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1 2 3

GENERAL BOOTH.

-^^f

Darke

NGLAlvfD

mS'

AND

THE WAY OUT

(

7>"

. BY

GENERAL BOOTH

/v CHICAGO :

/ LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS
.T - 1890

i ..A,

' H

\ .

TO THE MEMORY

OF THE

COMPANION, COUNSELLOR, AND COl

OF NEARLY 40 YEARS,

THE SHARER OF MY E VER Y A MB I

FOR

THE WELFARE OF MANKIND,
MY
LOVING, FAITHFUL, AND DEVOTED

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATE!

.Ki. ).■.;? J

S- V

.;2io

,-'4 ^

!«■ {;;,'^. ir

\:t

•:/fl

' ,4

(v1

ir;-..

CONTENTS.

PART I.-THE DARKNESS.

CHAPTER I. PACK.
Why « Darkest England ? " 9

;?; CHAPTER II.
The Submerged Tenth. 17

CHAPTER III. -
The Homeless » 24

^ CHAPTER IV.

The Out-of- Works. 32 -

CHAPTER V.
Gn the Verge of the Abyss. .^ 40

CHAPTER VI.
The Vicious 46

CHAPTER VII.
The Cttminds, 57

" CHAPTER VIII.
The Children of the Lost 62

jj' CTiAPTER IX.
:^ .ioH?lp? 67

■ --v ^■

PART II.-DELIVERANCE.

CHAPTER I.

• •• •• ••••■•«•••••••*•••« »•••••«••••••••

85
90

A STUPENDOUS UNDERTAKING.

bn I. — ^The Essentials to Success i

2. — My Scheme

CHAPTER II. '

TO THE rescue! — THE CITY COLONY.

,, Section i.=— Food and Shelter for Every Man 94

2,_Work for the Out-of- Works— The Factory 105

3.— The Regimentation of the Unemployed iii

4.— The Household Salvage Brigade 4 .. . , . 114.

(5)

\ «
,;

■PT

CONTENTS
CHAPTER III.

TO THE country! — THE FARM COLONY.

PAGB.

Section i. — The Farm Proper 124 ^

« 2.— The Industrial Village 135

" 3. — Agrictiltural Villages 140

" 4.^ — Co-operative Farm 142

CHAPTER IV.

NEW BRITAIN — THE COLONY OVER SEA.

Section I. — The Colony and the Colonists 146

" 2. — Universal Emigration 150

«« 3.— The Salvation Ship 152

CHAPTER V.

MORE CRUSADES.

Section i. — A Slam Crusade — Our Slum Sisters 158

" 2.— The Traveling Hospital 170

I " 3. — Regeneration of Our Criminals — The Prison Gate Brigade. . . 173

" 4. — Effectual Deliverance for the Drunkard 180

•* 5. — A new Way of Escape for Lost Women — The Rescue Homes, 188

•* 6. — A Preventive Home for Unfallen Girls when in Danger 192

'* 7. — Enquiry Office for Lost People 194

" 8. — Refuges for Children of the Streets 201

" 9. — Industrial Schools 202

la — Asylums for Moral Lunatics 204

CHAPTER VL

ASSISTANCE IN GENERAL. ^

I. — Improved Lodgings ., , ^»

2. — Model Suburban Villages ,.';►., .|2io

3. — The Poor Man's Bank '..'^^£-1%

<* 4. — The Poor Man's Lawyer 2^8 -

" 5. — Intelligence Department 2^5ff '*'

" 6. — Co-operation in General 229 1:".-

" 7. — Matrimonial Bureau 343 )'

" 8. — Whitechapel-by-the-Sea 23^'

CHAPTER VIL

CAN IT HE DONE, AND HOW?

Section i. — The Credentials of the Salvation Army 24'j , |

" 2.— How Much Will it Cost ? 246V ^

" 3. — Some Advantages Stated 252 |

" 4. — Some Objections Met 258 '

♦« 5. — Recapitulation 270

CHAPTER VIII.
A Practical Conclusion 277

I'i

Section

M
(«

•|

PREFACE.

The progress of The Salvation Army in its work amongst the poor and
lost of many lands has compelled me to face the problems which are more
or less hopefully considered in the following pages. The grim necessities
of a huge Campaign carried on for many years against the evils which lie
at the root of all the miseries of modern life, attacked in a thousand and
one forms by a thousand and one Ijeutenants, have led me step by step to
contemplate as a possible solution of at least some of those problems the
Scheme of Social Selection and Salvation which I have here set forth.

When but a mere child the degradation and helpless misery of the poor
Stockingers of my native town, wandering gaunt and hunger-stricken
through the streets droning out their melancholy ditties, crowding the
Union or toiling like galley slaves on relief works for a bare subsistence,
kindled in my heart yearnings to help the poor which have continued to
this day and which have had a powerful influence on my whole life. At
last I may be going to see my longings to held the workless realised. I
think I am.

The commiseration then awakened by the misery of this class has been
an impelling force which has never ceased to make itself felt during forty
years of active service in the salvation of men. During this time I am
thankful that I have been able, by the good hand of God upon me, to do
something in mitigation of the miseries of this class, and to bring not
only heavenly hopes and earthly gladness to the hearts of multitudes of
these wretched crowds, but also many material blessings, including such
commonplace things as food, raiment, home, and work, the parent of so
many other temporal l^eneflts. And thus many poor creatures have proved
Godliness to be " profitable unto all things, having the promise of the life
that now is as well as of that which is to come."

These results have been mainly attained by spiritual means. I have
boldly asserted that whatever his peculiar character or circumstances might
be, if the prodigal would come home to his Heavenly Father, he would
find enough and to spare in the Father's house to supply all his need both

(7)

PREFACE.

I 1

for this world and the next ; and I have known thousands, naj, I can say
tens of thousands, who have literally proved this to be true, having, with
little or no temporal assistance, come out of the darkest depths of destitu-
tion, vice and crime, to be happy and honest citizens and true sons and
servants of God.

And yet all the way through my career I have keenly felt the remedial
measures usually enunciated in Christian programmes and ordinarily em-
ployed by Christian philanthropy to be lamentably inad^uate for any
effectual dealing with the despairing miseries of these outcast classes. The
rescued are appalingly i^w — a ghastly minority compared with the multi>
tudcs who struggle and sink in the open-mouthed abyss. Alike, therefore,
my humanity and my Christianity, if I may speak of them in any way as
separate one from the other, have cried out for some more comprehensive
method of reaching and saving the perishing crowds.

No doubt it is good for men to climb unaided out of the whirlpool on to
the rock of deliverance in the very presence of the temptations which have
hitherto mastered them, and to maintain a footing there with the same
billows of temptation washing over them. But, alas 1 with many this seems
to be literally impossible. That decisiveness of character, that moral nerve
which takes hold of the rope thrown for the rescue and keeps its hold
amidst all the resistances that have to be encountered, is wanting. It is
gone. The general wreck has shattered and disorganized the whole man.

Alas, whai tudes there are around us everywhere, many known to

my readers p^ ■'illy* and any number who may be known to them by a
very short walk from their_ own dwellings, who are in this very plight !
Their vicious habits and destitute circumstances make it certain that, with-
out some kind of extraordinary help, they must hunger and sin, and sin
and hunger, until, having multiplied their kind, and filled up the neasure
of their miseries, the gaunt fingers of death will close upon thorn and
terminate their wretchedness. And all this will happen this very winter
in the midst of the unparalleled wealth, and civilisation, and philanthropy
of this professedly most Christian land.

Now I propose to go straight for these sinking classes, and in doing so
shall continue to aim at the heart. I still prophesy the uttermost dis-
appointment unless that citadel is reached. In proposing to add one more
to the methods I have already put in operation to this end, do not let it be
supposed that I am the less dependent upon the old plans, or that I seek
anything short of the old conquest. If we help the man it is in order that
we may change him. The builder who should elaborate his design and
erect his house and risk his reputation without burning his bricks would
be pronounced a failure and a fool. Perfection of architectural beauty,
unlimited expenditure of capital, unfailing watchfullness of his labourers,
would avail him nothing if the bricks were merely unkilned clay. Let him

-^^ ^1

'7 '.

I ''-^V

PREFACE,

kindle a fire. And so here I see the folly of noping to accomplish any-
thing abiding, either in the circumstances or the morals of these hopeless
classes, except there be a change effected in the whole man as well as in
his surroxmdings. To this everything I hope to attempt will tend. In
many cases I shall succeed, in some I shall fail; but even in failing of this
my ultimate design, I shall at least benefit the bodies, if not the souls, of
men, and if I do not save the fathers, I shall make a better chance for the
children.

It will be seen, therefore, that in this or in any other development that
may follow, I have no intention to depart in the smallest degree from the
main principles on which I have acted in the past. My only hope ^or the
permanent deliverance of mankind from misery, either in this world or the
next, is the regeneration or remaking of the individual by the power of the
Holy Ghost through Jesus Christ. But in providing for the relief of tem-
poral misery I reckon that I am only making it easy where it is now
difficult, and possible where it Js now all but impossible, for men and
.^/•omen to find their way to the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.
'■^ ^ That I have confidence in my proposals goes without saying. I believe
they will work. In miniature many of them are working already. But I
do not claim that my Scheme is either perfect in its details or complete in
the sense of being atdequate to combat all forms of the gigantic evils against
which it is in the main directed. Like other human things* it must be
perfected through suffering. But it is a sincere endeavour to do something,
and to do it on principles which can be instantly applied and universally
developed. Time, experience, criticism, and, above all the guidance of
God will enable us, I hope, to advance on the lines here laid down to a
true and practical application of the words of the Hebrew Prophet: " Loose
the bands of Avickedness; undo the heavy burdens; let the oppressed go free;
break every yoke; deal thy bread to the hungry; bring the poor that are
cast out to thy house. When thou seest the naked cover him and hide not
thyself from thine own flesh. Draw out thy soul to the hungry — ^Then
they that be of thee shall build the old waste places and Thou shalt raise
up the foundations of many generations. "

To one who has been for thirty-five years indissolubly associated with
me in every undertaking I owe much of the inspiration which has found
expression in this book. It is probably difficult for me to fully estimate
the extent to which the splendid benevolence and unbounded sympathy of
her character have pressed me forward in the life-long service of man, to
which we have devoted both ourselves and our children. It will be an
ever green and precious memory to me that amid the ceaseless suffering of
a dreadful malady my dying wife found relief in considering and developing
the suggestions for the moral and social and spiritual blessing of the people
which are here set forth, and I do thank God she was taken from me only

,>1

Y^-

^-iv-

PREFACE.

when the book was practically complete and the last chapters had been
sent to the press.

In conclusion, I have to acknowledge the services rendered to me in
preparing this book by Officers under my command. There could be
no hope of carrying out auy part of it, but for the fact that so many
thousands are ready at my call and under my direction to labour to the
very utmost of their strength for the salvation of others without the hope
of earthly reward. Of the practical common sense, the resource, the readi*
ness for every form of usefullness of those Officers and Soldiers, the world
has no conception. Still less is it capable of understandmg the height and
depth of their self-sacrificing devotion to God and the poor.

I have also to acknowledge valuable literary help from a friend orthe
poor, who, though not in any way connected with the Salvation Army,
has the deepest sympathy with its aims, and is to a large extent in harmony
with its principles. Without such assistance I should propably have found
it — overwhelmed as I already am with the affairs of a world-wide enter-
prise — extremely difficult, if not impossible, to have presented these
proposals, for which I am alone responsible, in so complete a form, at any
rate at this time. I have no doubt that if any substantial part of my plan
is successfully carried out he will consider himself more than repaid for
the services so ably iendered.

WILLIAM BOOTH.
International Head^jarters of
The Salvation Army,

London, E. C, October^ 189a

In Darkest England

PARTI.— THE DARKNESS

CHAPTER I.
WHV «• DARKEST ENGLAND"?

This summer the attention of the civilised world has been nrrestcd
by the story which }/It. Stanley has told of "Darkest Africa" and
his journeyings across the heart of the Lost Continent. In all that
spirited narrative of heroic endeavour, nothing has so much im-
pressed the imagination, as his description of the immense forest,
which ofiered an almost impenetrable barriir to nis advance. Tlie
intrepid ,^xplorer, in his own phrase, " marched, tore, ploughed,
and cut his way for one hundred and sixty days through this inner
;womb of the true tropical forest." The mind of man with difficulty
endeavour? to realise this immensity of wooded wilderness, covering
a territory half as large again as the wliole of France, where the
rays of the sun rvever penetrate, where in the dark, dank air, filled
with the steam of the heated morass, human be'rngs dwarfed into
pygmies and brutalized into cannibals lurk and live and die. Mr.
Stanley vainly endeavours to bring home to us the full horror of
that awful gloom. He says :

Take a thick Scottish copse dripping with rain ; imagine this to oe a mere
undergrowth nourished under the impenetrable shade of ancient trees ranging
from lOO to 180 feet high ; briars and thorns abundant ; lazy creeks meandcjiiig
through the depths of the jungle, and sometimes a c\;cp. affluent of a great river.
Imagine this forest *and jungle in all stages of decay and growth, rain pattering
on you every other day of the year; an impure atmosphere with its dread con-
sequences, fever and dysentery; gloom throughout the day and darkness
almost palpable throughout the night; and then if you can imagme such
a forest extending the entire distance from Plymouth to Peterhead, you will
have a fair idea of some of the inconveniences endured by us in the Conga forest.

The denizens of this region are filled with a conviction that the
foreit is endless — interminable. In vain did Mr. Stanley and his
companions endeavour to convince them that outside the dreary wood
were to be found sunlight, pasturage and peaceful meadows.

They replied in a manner that seemed to imply that we must be strange
creatures to suppose that it would be possible for any world to exist save Uidc

WHY " DARKEST" ENGLAND" T

illimitabl* forest. "No," they replied, shaking their heads compassionately, and
pitying our absurd questions, ''ail like this," and they moved their hands
sweepingly to illustrate that the world xvas all alike, nothing but trees, trees and
trees — great trees rising as high as an arrow shot to the sky, lifting their crowns
intertwining their branches, pressing and crowding one against the other, until
neither the sunlcam nor shaft of light can penetrate it.

" We entered the forest," says Mr. Stanley, " with confi^lence ; forty
pioneers in front with axes and bill hooks to clear a path through the
obstructions,' praying that God and good fortune would lead us."
But before the conviction of the forest dwellers that the forest was
without end, hope faded' out of the hearts of the natives of Stanley's
company. The men became sodden with despair, preaching was
useless to move their brooding sullenness, their morbid gloom.

The little religion they knew was nothing more than legendary lore, and in'
Iheir memories there* dimly floated a story of a land which grew darker and
darker as one travelled towards the end of the earth and drew nearer to the
^lace where a great serpent lay supine and coiled round the whole world. Ah !
then the ancients must have referred to this, where the light is so ghastly, and
the woods are endless, and are so still and solemn and grey ; to this oppressive
loneliness, amid so much life, which is so chilling to the poor distressed heart ;
and the horror grew darker with their fancies ; the cold ot early morning, the.
comfortliess grey of dawn, the dead white mist, the ever-dripping tears of the
dew, the deluging rains, the appalling thunder bursts and the echoes, and the
wonderful play of the dazzling lightning. And when the night comes with its thick
palpable darkness, and they lie huddled in their damp little huts, and they hear
the tempest overhead, and the howlmg of the wild winds, the grinding and
groaning of the storm-tost trees, and the dread sounds of the falling giants, and
the shock of the trembling earth which sends their hearts with fitful leaps to
their throats, and the roaring and a rushing as of a mad overwhelming sea —
oh, then the horror is intensified 1 When the march has begun once again, and
the filte are slowly moving through the woods, they renew their morbid
broodings, and ask themselves : How long is this to last ? Is the joy of life to
end thus ? Must wc jog on day after day in this cheerless gloom and this
joyless duskiness, until we stagger and fall and rot among the toads ? Then
they disappear into the woods by twos, and threes, and sixes ; and after the
caravan has passed they return by the trail, some to reach Yambuya and upset
the young officers with their tales of woe and war ; some to fall sobbing under
a spear-thrust ; some to wander and stray in the dark mazes of the woods, hope-
lessly lost ; and some to be carved for the cannibal feast. And those who Yemain
compelled to it ^y fr :rs of greater danger, mechanically march on, a prey to
dread and weakness.

That is the forest.: . But what of its denizens ?^They are com-
paratively few*; only soitie hundreds of thousands living in small
tribes from teh to thirty ftiiles apart, scattered ov6r an area on
which t^Q tS^busand imllioh trees put out the sun from a region four

tHE AFRICAN PARALLEL^^

•Hi

assionately, and
'ed their hands
trees, trees and
ng their crowns
the other, until

Wence ; forty
through the
lid lead us."
le forest was
of Stanley's
caching was
loom.

y lore, and in'
w darker and
nearer to the
' world. Ah f
) ghastly, and
lis oppressive
ressed heart ;
morning, the.
I tears of the
noes, and the
with its thick
md they hear
grinding and
g giants, and
itful leaps to
Jming sea—
e again, and
heir morbid
oy of life to
tn and this
»ds? Then
nd after the
a and upset
>bing under
oods, hope-
vho l-emain
> a prey to

are corn-
in small
area on
g^ion four

t-,--. .}

times- 'as wide as Great' Britain. ;; Of these - pygmies there are two
kinds ; one a very degraded specimen with ferretlike eyes, dose-set
nose, more nearly approaching the baboon than was supposed to be
possible, but very human; the other very handsome, with frank
open innocent features, very prepossessing. They are quick and
intelligent," capable of deep affection and gratitude, showing re-
markable industry and patience, i: A pygmy boy of eighteen worked
witbii consuming zeal ; time with him was too precious to waste in
talk. ' His mJnd seemed ever concentrated on work. Mr. Stanley said :

/^ When I opce stopped him to ask him his name, his face seemed
to^say, .* Please don't stop me. ; I must finish my task.*

/* All alike, the baboon variety and the handsome innocents, are
canhibalsii^4They are possessed with" a perfect mania for meat. We
were obliged to bury our dead in the river, lest the bodies should be
exhumed and eaten, even when they had died from smallpox."

Upon the pygmies and all the dwellers of the forest has descended
a devastating visitation jn the shape of the ivory raiders of civilisa-
tiotti TlJ^race that wrote the Arabian Nights, built Bagdad and
Graij^da^'aild invented Algebra, sends forth men with the hunger for
gold in their hearts, and Enfield muskets in their hands, to plunder
and'ttir slay. l- They exploit the domestic affections of the forest
dwellers in order to strip them of all they possess in the world. That
has b^ii going on for years, j^ It is going on to-day. It has come to
be^ regarded as the natural and normal law of existence. Of the
refigion* of/these hunted pygmies Mr. Stanley tells us nothing,
perhaps' because there is nothing to tell. ' But an earlier traveller.
Dr.' Kfaff, says that bne of these tribes, by name Doko, had some
notion of a Supreme Being, to ^hom, "under the name of Yer, they
sometinies addressed prayers in moments of sadness or terror, in
these^*prayers they say; "Oh" Yer, if Thou dost really exist why
dost Thou let us be slaves ? ^ We ask not for food or clothing, for
we live on snakes, ants, and' mice. Thou hast made us. wherefore
dost Thou let us be trodden down ? ",

^U is a terrible picture, and one that has engraved itself deep on
the heart of civilisation. ^:. But while brooding over the awful
pre&entklion of life as it exists in the vast African forest, it seemed to
me only too vivid a picture of many parts of our own land. As
there^, is .ar^ darkest -Africa is there not also a darkest England?
Civilisation^^ which can breed its own barbarians, does it not also
brieed. kalown pyginies ? _ May we not . find a parallel at ovir. own

WHY "DARKEST ENGLAND"?

•:

doors, and discover within a stone's throw of our cathedrals and
palaces similar horrors to those which Stanley has found existing
in the great Equatorial forest ?

The more the mind dwells upon the subject, the closer the analogy
appears. The ivory raiders who brutally traffic in the unfortunate
denizens of the forest glades, what are they but the publicans who
flourish on the weakness of our poor ? The two tribes of savages,
the human baboon and the handsome dwarf, who will not speak
lest it impede him in his task, may be accepted as the two
varieties who are continually present with us — the vicious, lazy
lout, and the toiling slave. They, too, have lost all faith of life
being other than it is and has been. As in Africa, it is all trees,
trees, trees with no other world conceivable ; so is it here — it is all
vice and poverty and crime. To many the world is all slum, with
the Workhouse as an intermediate purgatory before the grave. And
just as Mr. Stanley's Zanzibaris lost faith, and could only be induced
to plod on in brooding suUenness of dull despair, so the most of our
social reformers, no matter how cheerily they may have started off,
with forty pioneers swinging blithely their axes as they force their
way into the wood, soon become depressed and despairing. Who
can battle against the ten thousand million trees ? Who cAn hope to
make headway against the innumerable adverse conditions which
doom the dweller in Darkest England to eternal and immutable
misery ? What wonder is it that many of the warmest hearts and
enthusiastic workers feel disposed to repeat the lament of the old
English chronicler, who, speaking of the evil days which fell upon
our forefathers in the reign of Stephen, said " It seemed to them as
if God and his Saints were dead." —

An analogy is as good as a suggestion ; it becomes wearisome
when it is pressed too far. But before leaving it, think for a moment
how close the parallel is, and how strange it is that so much interest
should be excited by a narrative of human* squalor and human
heroism in a distant continent, while greater squalor and heroism
not less magnificent may be observed at our very doors.
' The Equatorial Forest traversed by Stanley resembles that Darkest
England of which I have to speak, alike in its vast extent — both stretch,
in Stanley's phrase, "as far as from Plymouth to Peterhead ;" its mono-
tonous darkness, its malaria and its gloom, its dwarfish de-humanized
inhabitants, the slavery to which they are subjected, their privations
and their misery. That which sickens the stoutest heart, and causes

ledrals and
nd existing

he analogy
infortunate
licans who
f savages,
not speak
the two
ious, lazy

h of life

all trees,
—it is all
lum, with
ve. And
- induced
)st of our
arted off,
»rce their

. Who

hope to
s which
imutable
irts and
the old
ill upon
hem as

irisome
noment
interest
human
eroism

►arkest
tretch,
mono-
mized
ations
:auses

THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND. OF OUR TIMEX lISj

£:

many of our bravest and best to ; fold their hands in despair/is the
apparent impossibility of doing more than merely, to .peck vat- the
outside of the endless tangle of 'monotonous ^undergrowth;; to' let
light into it, to make a road clear througlr it, that «hall notvbe immj^
diately choked up by the ooze of the morass and the luxuriant. pat a^
sitical growth of the forest — who dare iiope for that ? At present^
alas, it would seem as though no one dares even to hope ! It is the
great Slough of Despond of our time.

And what a slough it is no man can gauge who has not waded
therein, as some of us have done, up to the very neck for long 3'ears.

Talk about DjUit^s^JAfiiUaadJ^^

torture-chamber of the lost ! The man who walks with, gpgn eyes
and witH nBlee^ing^h'earf tKrbuglV the shamHtes 'of,^<gy]^ i;|.)^^§g^
nee3s ri'd -St»tb>ftHirist!e images 6f Xhf^^pocT to^igijc|\ Jiii» .boriw^*
Often ariH^ofterr whcnl liave seefi Ihe- voting and the poor and the
helpless go down before my eyes into the morass, trampled underfoot
by ^beas ts o£ ] >rey in hui nd^n sliap^ thani aunt th9sc retj;ions. i^ ?ccip9^1

were no longer nT Mis worlcj, but that in Hi s stea d r^jgupd

a fi^ndnrnerclTe^'^^ no doubt,

to read m Stanley s pages of the slave-traders coldly arranging for
the surprise of a village, the capture of the inhabitants, the massacre
of those who resist, and the violation of all tlic women'; but the stony
streets of London, if they could but speak, would tell of tragedies as
awful, of ruin as complete, of ravishments as horrible, as if wc were
in Central Africa; only the ghastly devastatioi) is covered, corpse-
like , withj h^^jirtificialities and iiypocrisies of modern civiJi^iyLiQQ

TnTioTof a negrcss'^ffiitfrirquatoMt F6r<*frlS ifoC^^^ very

happy one, but is it so very much worse than that of many a pretty
orphan girl in our Christian capital ?. We talk about the brutalities
of the dark ages, and we profess to shudder as wc read in books of
the shameful exaction of the rights of feudal superior. And yet here,
beneath our very eyes, in our theatres, in our restaurants, and in many
other places", unspeakable though it be but to name it, the same hideous
abuse flourishes unchecked. A young penniless girl, if she be pretty,
is often hunted from pillar to p^t^Jieremployers,^^illr6^^^^

^y"^|e3SsEPiDxeEE§^'^o£SiJ^ the poorgtpnras

consented to buy the right to earn her living by the sacrifice of her
virtue, -then she is treated as a slave and an outcast by the
cvry-men who have ruined her. Her word becomes unbclicv
able, her life an -.i ignominy, and .. shc; i8iij»\v.c|>t;i;Ldownvvard

••" \

) (■

WHW" DARKEST ENGLAND " T

.'^■V..

... v ."

ever. downward, into the bottomless perdition cf prostitution. But
there, even in the lowest depths, excommunicated by Humanity and
.outcast from God, she is ifar nearer the pitying heart of the One true
Saviour than all the men whn forced her down, aye, and than all the
Pharisees "and Scribes who stand silently by while these fiendish
wrongs are perpetrated before their very eyes.

The blood boils with impotent rage at the sight of these enormities,
callously inflicted, and silently borne by these miserable victims.
Nor is it only women who are the victims, although their fate is the
most tragic. Those firms which i:g4u6Aj;sX£aliGg to a Jine art, who
sy«tematicallj^_^and]^^il3^afl^,j(i^^ workman of his pay,

wfio^gfindTthe faces of thenojorjand who rob the^widoW andthc
orphan. anownoJor a^jaret ence make great prof essions oj public-
spint'and philanthropy, these men nowadays are sent to Parliament
tomakeTaws for the peoplei.The.fiLlii pro phets sent them to Hell —
btiji^e have changed all that.^ They send their victims to Hell, and
are revd^rded-by all thatwealth can do to make their lives comfortable.
Read the Houseof Lords' Report on the Sweating System, and ask if
any African slave system, making due allowance lor the superior civili-
sation, and therefore sensitiveness, of the victims, reveals more misery.

Darkest England, like Darkest Africa, reeks with malaria. ^The
foul and letid breath of our slums is almost as poisonous as that of
the^African swamp. . Fever is almost as chronic there as on the
Equator."- 'Every year thousands of children are killed off by what is
called-, defects of our sanitary system. ' They are in reality starved
andf. poisoned, and all that can be said is that, in many cases, it is
bettcfrlor them that they were taken away Iropi the trouble to come.

Jiist as dn^ Darkest Africa it is only a part of the evil and misery
that comes h'ojn ^the superior race who invade the forest to enslave
and 'massacre its miserable inhabitants, so with us, much of the
misery'^f those whose lot we are considering arises from their own
habits.'^Drunkenhess and all manner of uncleanness, moral and
physical/^bound. tHave you ever watched by the bedside of a man
in delinum tremens ?/T.Multiply the sufferings of that one drunkard
by^the hundred thousand, and you have some idea of what scenes
are .being witnei^sed *'m all our great cities at this moment. Asjn
Africa'fJstreamsJ, intersect the forest in every dtgact ion^ bo
shJJJpt-stanijoja corner ivith its-Rivww^oiLUlfi/wa^ptl^Death

ii^/mjP^evcntec^^ out (rf the twenty'^wirlor the desbrbction

trivM"HnnE7"steeped['7n vice-

A LIGHT BEYOND.

II?

>stitution. But

Humanity and

)f the One true

nd than all the

these fiendish

Jse enormities,
arable ^-ictims.
leir fate is the

1 of" his pay.
gStranTthc
OS^of^pubfic-
to Parliament
Jem toHell—
to Hell, and
i comfortable.
™, and ask if
jperiorcivili-
more misery,
alaria. ,The
us as that of
- as on the
fif by what is
ility starved
cases, it is
We to come,
and misery
t to enslave
uch of the
n their own
moral and
e of a man
i drunkard
'hat scenes
nt. As in

!;^Death
lesppUction
3*7n vice-

eaterfiup by every social and physical malady,' these -arc'thc 'denizens'
of Darkest England amidst whom* my- life has been spent,\'and^ to
whose rescue I would now summon tall ^^hat.i^jssijjx.them^hhond
and ^womanhood of our land. .

■But this book is no mere lamentation-:of ■despair." '^.ForiDarkcst
England, as for Darkest Africa, there -is. a light beyond. .; I think
I see my way out, a way by which these, wretched ones may escape
from the gloom of their miserable existence.into a higher and happier
life. Long wandering in the Forest of the Shadow of Death at our
doors, has familiarised me with its horrors ;, but while the realisation
is* a vigorous spur to action it has never been so oppressive as to
extinguish hope. Mr. Stanley never succumbed to the terrors which
oppressed his followers. He had lived in a larger life, and' knew
that^'the forest, though long, was not interminable. Every step
forward brought him nearer his destined goal, nearer to the light of
the sun, the clear sky, and the rolling uplands of the grazing land.
Therefore he did not despair. The Equatorial Forest was, after all,
a mere comer of one quarter of the world. In the knowledge of the
light outside, in the confidence begotten by past experience of sue-,
cessful endeavouf, he pressed forward ; and when the i6o days^
struggle was over, he and his men came out into a pleasant place
;\*liere the land smiled with peace and plenty, and their hardships
and hunger were forgotten in the joy of a great deliverance.

So I venture to believe it will be with us. But the end is not yet.
We are still in the depths of the depressing gloom. It is in no spirit
of light-heartedness that this book is sent forth, into the world
as if it was written some ten years ago.

If this were the first time that this wail of hopeless misery had
sounded on our cars the matter would have been less serious. It is
because we have heard it so often that the case is so desperate.
T he e xceeding bitter cry of the disinherited has become to.be as
fai iuliai^.iiLUliLUia.^01E 51S^TT1^ the

And^so It rises unceasing,

iw-'anine. of the wind through the trees

rammzn-MWictin ■iaas.vim.jf ■

year in and year but, and we'are'too^usy or too idle, too indifferent
or too selfish, to spare it a thought. Only now and then, on rare occa-
sions, when some clear voice is heard giving more articulate utterance
to the miseries of the miserable men, do we pause in the regular routine
of our daily duties, and shudder as we realise for one brief moment
what life means to the inmates of the Slums. But one of the grimmest
social prpblqins of our time should be sternly faced, not jwiiha^je^

S^BBS

WHY " DARKEST ENGLAND " ?

to , the generation of profitless emotion, but with a view to its
solution.

Is it not time? There is, it is true, ah audacity, in the mere
suggestion that the problem is nnt insoluble that is enough to. take
away the breath. But can nothing be done? 'If, after full, and
exhaustive consideration, we come to the deliberate conclusion
that nothing can be done, and that it is the inevitable and inexorable
destiny of thousands of Englishmen to be brutalised into worse than
beasts by the condition of their environment, so be it. But if, on the
contrary, we are unable to believe that this " awfur slough," which
engulfs the manhood and womanhood of generation after generation,
is incapable of removal ; and if the heart and intellect of mankind alike
revolt against the fatalism of despair, then, indeed, it is time, and high
time,ttvat the question were faced in no mere dilettante spirit, but with a
resolute determination to make an end of the crying scandal of our age,

What a satire it is upon our Christianity and bur civilisation j
that the existence of these colonies of heathens and savages- in* the
heart of our capital should attract so little attention 1 It isjiaJjfit^
than a ghastl y mo ckery — theologians might u se a stronger Vord-^tb
call fiy^^^rSrffF^oTjnne^^^ca

was lpsyhq§^^JQ\«.JXhesjd£3^ midsf"^' IbsV multitudes either

sleep ln..aaaUw>i>K''^it&l>la\e«a« ^ful ^i nterest in a chasuble.^ Why all
this apparatus of temples and meeting-lTouses to save. men- from
perdition in a world which is to come, while never a helping hand is
stretched out to sava them from the inferno of their present life? Is
it not time that, forgetting for a moment their wranglirigs about tha
infinitely little or infinitely obscure, they should concentrate all theic
energies on a united effort to break this, terrible perpetuity pC
perdition, end to rescue some at least of. those' foe wbonfi th^y
profess to believe their Founder came to die i

Before, venturing to define the remedy, I" begin by aescribing tjie
malady. But even when presenting the dreary picture of oursdcial
ills, and describing the difficulties which confront us, I speakl not
in despondency but in hope. "I know in v^hom I have. believed.''
1 know, therefore do I speak. Darker England is but a fractional
part of^f^Greater England." There is wealth enough abundantly to
ministe.^;toJts social regeneration so far as wealth "can, if there be
buf KeartVecpugh.to set about the work in earnest. And I hope'and
believe that' the heart "will not be lacking when once the problei|fti&
tnaofully^f^ced,^^ ^d.the method of its^splution pkioly p<^iMWk.

a view to its

^»n the mere
lough tQ take
after full, and
te conclusion
md inexorable
to worse than
But if, on the
lough," which
r generation,
nankind alike
ime, and high
rit, but with a
'al of our age,
' civilisatiohj
Images- in* the
isnobpfr^/»r

erVord-^tb
I^ISlOQlich
Lfe either
'• Why all
nien- from
ing hand is
nt life ? Is
> about th2
te all their
petuit^ of
'hbiis th^y

ribiiig tjie
our social
speak not
believed.'^
fractional
dantly to
there be
^opeand
■oblertitia
cTSOk

CHAPTER II.
THE SUBMERGED TENTH.

In setting forth the difficulties which have to be grappled with, I
shall endeavour in all things to understate rather than overstate my
case. I do this for two reasons : first, any exaggeration would create
a reaction ; and secondly, as my object is to demonstrate the prac-
ticability, of solving the problem, I do not wish to magnify its
dimensions. In this and in subsequent chapters I hope to convince
those who read them that 'there is no overstraining in -the
representation of the facts, and nothing Utopian in the presentation
of remedies. I appeal neither to hysterical emotionalists nor head-
long enthusiasts ; but having tried to approach the examination of
this (question in a spirit of scientific investigation, I put forth' my
proposals witii the view of securing the support and co-operatioh ot
the sober, serious, practical men and women who constitute the saving
strength and moral backbone of the country. I fully admit that there
is much that is lacking in the diagnosis of the disease, and, no doubt,
in this first draft of the prescription there is much room for improve-
ment, which will come when we have the light of fuller experience.
But with all its drawbacks and defects, I do- not hesitate to submit
my proposals to the impartial judgment of all who are interested in
the solution of the social question as an immediate and practical mode
of dealing with this^ the greatest problem of our time.

The first duty of an investigator in approaching the study of any
question is to eliminate all th^t is fore';_,n to the inquiry, and to
concentrate his attention upon the subject to be dealt with. Here I
mayjremark that I make no attempt in this book to deal with Society
as "^^hole. I leave to others the formulation of ambitious pro-
grammes for the reconstruction of our entire social system ; not
because I may not desire its reconstruction, but because the
elaboration of any plans, which are more or less visionary and

\iS-

-Hi

.■Ul

THE SUBMERGED

TENTK.

rA-

incapable of realisation for many years would stand in the way of
the consideration of this Scheme for dealing with the most urgently
pressing laspect of the question, which I hope mav be put into
operation at once:

In taking thisNS)urse I am aware that I cut myself off from a wide
land attractive ; field ; but as a practical man, dealing with sternly
prosaic factsi;-^^ 1 1 must confine my attention to that particular
section of ' the problem which clamours most pressingly for
a '-solution. * Only one thing I may say in passing. There
is nothing in my scheme which will bring it into collision either with
Socialists of the State, or Socialists of the Municipality, with In-
dividualists or Nationalists, or any of the various schools of thought
in the great, field of social economics — excepting only those anti-
Christian economists who hold that it is an offence against the
Hoctrine of the survival of the fittest to try to save the weakest
from going to the wall, and who believe that when once a man is
down the supreme duty of a self-regarding Society is to jump upon
him. Such economists will naturally be disappointed with this book.
I venture to believe that all others will find nothing in it to
offend"? their favourite theories, but perhaps something of helpful
suggestion which they may utilise hereafter.

What, then, is Darkest England ? For whom do we claim that
*' urgency " which gives their case priority over that of all other
sections of their countrymen and countrywomen ?

I claim it for the Lost, for the Outcast, for the Disinherited of the
World.

These,' it* may be said, are but phrases. Who are the Lost ? I
reply, not in a religious, but in a social sense, the lost are those
who have gone under, who have lost their foothold in Society, those
to whom the prayer to our Heavenly Father, " Give us day by day
our daily bread," is either unfulfilled, or only fulfilled by the Devil's
agency: by the earnings of vice, the proceeds of crime, or the
contribution enforced by the threat of the law.

But I will be more precise. The denizens in Darkest England,
for whom I appeal, are (i) those who, having no capital or income of
their- own, would in a" month be dead from sheer starvation were they
exclusively dependent upon the money earned by their own work ;
and (2) those who by their utmost exertions are unable to attain
the. regulation allowance of food which the law prescribes SA indis-
\>en8able even for the worst criminals in our gaols.

in the way of

most urgently

be put into

r from a wide
with sternly
at particular
essingly for
ing. There
n either with
ity, with In-
»ls of thought
those anti-
against the
the weakest
ce a man is
jump upon
ith this book,
ling in it to
ig of helpful

'e claim that
of all other

lerited of the

he Lost? I
3t are those
ociety, those
day by day
y the Devil's
ime, or the

ist England,
or income of
>n were they
own work;
ble to attain
€s as India-

THE CAB HORSE IDEAL OF EXISTENCE.

I sorrowfully admit that it would be Utopian in our present social
arrangements to dream of attaining for every honest Englishman a
gaol standard of all the necessaries of life. Some time, perhaps, we
may venture to hope that every honest worker "ori Eng'irsR"s6TI will
always^ be as warnily cTadTas healthily housed, ami as regnfariy fed as
our criminal Svfcfs"— "Bui tfians'not' yet^

Neither is it^pbssiBteto hop^Tor many years to come that human
beings generally will be as well cared for as horses. / Mr. Carlyle
long ago remarked that the four-footed worker has already got all
that this two-handed one is clamouring for : " There are not many
horses in England, able and willing to work, whicTTiirWirertrafe
foo J ' a iwt iilwtgi i ig ■ ai ' id' 1^ ' iWlfettt" al ee k t ' oa todj-wrtTsficd'^n-hearfe^'
You say it is impossible ; but, said Carlyle, "The human brain, rddicing
at these sleek English horses, refuses to believe in such impossibility
for English men." Nevertheless, forty years have passed since
Carlyle said that, and we seem to be no nearer the attainment of the
four-footed standard for the two-handed worker. " Perhaps it might
be nearer realisation," growls the cynic, " if we could only produce
men according to demand, as we do horses, and promptly send them
to the slaughter-house when past their prime " — which, of course, is
not to be thought of.

What, then, is the standard towards which we may venture to aim
with some prospect of realisation in our time? It is a very humble
one, but if realised it would solve the worst problems of modern Society.

It is the standard of the London Cab Horse.

When Mmestrcett'^TCohciorra' ^l^B'llorse, weary or careless or
stupid, trips and falls and lies stretched out in the midst of the traffic,
there is no question of debating how he came to stumble before we
try to get him on his legs again. The Cab Horse is a very real illus-
tration of poor broken-down humanity; he usually falls down because
of overwork and underfeeding. If you put him on his feet without
altering his conditions, it would only be to give him another dose of
agony ; but first of all you'll have to pick him up again. It may have
been through overwork or underfeeding, or it may have been all his
own fault that he has broken his knees and smashed the shafts, but
that does not matter. If not for his own sake, then merely in order
to prevent an obstruction of the traffic, all attention is concentrated
upon the question of how we are to get him on his legs again. The
load is taken off, the harness is unbuckled, or, if need be, cut, and
everything is done to help him up. Then he is put in the shafts

SBB

}L0

'THE~8UBMERGE0 TENTH.

Again and : once : more restored to his regular round^ofAwork.'
;That is the first point. The second is that every CabvHpr^V in
London has three things ; a shelter for the night, food for its stomach,
and work allotted to it by which it can earn its corn.

These are the two points of the Cab Horse's Charter. When
he is doWn he is helped up, and- while he lives he has food, shelter
and work. ThaLalthough a humble standard, is at present
absolutely unattainable by millions — literally by miTIions — of our
fellow-men and won\e;3L.in.;-tJMa. .country. , C^ the Cab'. Horse
Charter be gained for human beings ? I answer, yes. The Cab
Horse standard can be attained on the Cab Horse terms. .If you
get your fallen fellow on his feet ajjain,. Docility and Discipline will
enable you to reach the Cab Horse ideal, otherwise it will remain
unattainable. But Docility seldom fails where Discipline is intelli-
gently maintained. Intelligence is more frequently lacking to direct,
than obedience to follcw direction. At any rate it is not for those
who possess the intelligence to despair of obedience, until they have
done their part. Some, no doubt, like the bucking horse that will
never be broken in, will always refuse lO submit to any guidance but
their own lawless will. rhe> will remain either the Ishmaels or the
Sloths of Society. Bui man is naturally neither r.n Ishmael nor a Sloth.

The fir3t question, then, which confronts us is, what are the dimen-
sions of the E"il? How many of our fellow-men dwell in this Darkest
England? Kowcanwe take the census of those who have fallen below
the Cab Horse standard to 'vhi'',h it i? our aim to elevate the most
Wi etched of our countrymen?

The noment you juteinpt to ari's.wer this question, you are con-
fronted by the fact that the Social Problem has scarcely been studjed
at all scientifically. Go to Mudie's and ask for all the books that
have been written on the subject, and you will be surprised to find
how few there are. There are probably more scientific , books
treating of diabetes or of gout than there are dealing with the great
social malady which eats out the vitals of such numbers of our
people. Of late there has been a change for the better. The Report
of the Royal Commission on the Housing of the Poor, and the Report
of the Cc«Anittee of the House of Lords on Sweating, represent af-j
attempt at least to ascertain the facts v/hich bear upon the Condition
of the People question. But, after all, more minute, patient, intelli-
gent observation has been devoted to the study of Earthworms, than"
to the evolution, or rather the degradation, oC^he Sunken SectioiKOf

l;^of hVirork.'
>yHpr9e>in
ts sfomach,

:r. When
Mxl, shelter
atjpresent
is~pf our
'ab" Horse
The Cab
3. .If you
M'pline will
rill remain
; is intelli-
j to direct,
t for those
they have
e that will
idance but
els or the
or a Sloth,
he dimen-
is Darkest
lien below
: the most

I are con-
:n studied
>ooks that
ed to find
fie books
the great
rs 'of our "
tie Report
le Report
resent &ii
Condition
It, intelli-
rms, than;
iectiookof

SOME GHASTLY FIGURES.

our people. Here and there in the immense field individual workers
make notes, and occasionally emit a wail of despair, but where js
there any attempt even so much as to take the first preliminary ste0
of counting those who have gone under ?

One book there is, and so far as I know at present, oniy one,'
which even attempts to enumerate the destitute. In his " Life and
Labour in the East of London," Mr. Charles Booth attempts to form
some kind of an idea as to the numbers of those with whom we have
to deal. With a large staff of assistants, and provided with all the
facts in possession of the School Board Visitors, Mr. Booth took an
industrial census of East London. This district, whibh comprises
Tower Hamlets, Shoreditch, Bethnal Green and Hackney, contains
a population of 908,000 ; that is to say, less than one-fourth of the
population of London.

How do his statistics work out ? If we estimate the number of
the poorest class in the rest of London as being twice as numerous
as those in the Eastern District, instead of being thrice as numerous,
as they would be if they were calculated according to the population
in the same proportion, the following is the result : —

Estimate for

PAUPERb

j:.ast L.ona

°" rest of London. *""'

Inmates of Workhouses, Asylums,

and Hospitals

17,000

... 34.000

... '51,000

Homeless

Loafers, Casuals, and some Crim-

inals

11,000

... 22,000

... 33.0W

Starving

Casual carnmgs between i8s. per

week and chronic want . .

100,000

... 200,000

.., 300,000

The Very Poor.

Intermittent earnings i8s. to 21s.

per week ... ... ,,, ,,,

74,000

... 148.000

... 222.000

Small regular earnings i8s. to 21s.

fWi^ vKiBCK ••• ••• •«« ««■

129,000

... 25S.OOO

... 387,000

331,000
Reguiar wages, artizans, etc, 22s.

to 30s. per wQek 377.00O

Higher tlass labciur, 306. to 50s. per

w«dc I2I,0«0

Lower aiiddle class. sh«pk«eiiers.

cleifcs, «tc 34<oo0

Upper middle class [servant keepers) 4S,oo»

<.jafi8,oo&

662)000

993,txx}

■li

i W i i it iBfe 'i'i n

22 THE SUBMERGED TENTH. /

I.t>inay be admitted that East London aflfords an exceptioni^ly bad
district from which to generalise for the rest of the country. Wages
are higher in London than elsewhere, but so is rent, and the number
of the homeless and starving is greater in the human warren at the
East End. There are 31 millions of people in Great Britain,
exclusive of Ireland. ' If destitution existed everywhere in East
London proportions, there would be 3 1 times as many homeless
and starving people as there are in the district round Bethnal Green.

But let us suppose that the East London rate is double the
average for the rest of the country. That would bring out the
following figures ; —

Houseless

East London. United KinKdon.
Loafers, Casuals, and some Criminals ... 11,000 ...... 165,500

Starving

Casual earnings or chronic want 100,000 1,550,000

Total Houseless and Starving ...111,000 1,715,500

In Workhouses, Asylums, &C. ... 17,000 190,000

128,000 ii905,5oo

Of those returned as homeless and starving. 870,000 were in
receipt of outdoor relief.

To these must be added the inmates of our prisons. In 1889,
174,779 persons were received in the prisons, but the average
number in prison at any one time did not exceed 60,000. The
figures, as given in the Prison Returns, are as follows : —

In Convict Prisons 11,660

In Local Prisons 20,883

In Reformatories 1,270

In Industrial Schools 21,413

Cnminal Lunatics * ... 910

56,136;
Add to this the number of indoor paupers and lunatics (excluding
oiminals) 78,9667— and we have an army of nearly two •millions
belongiiig to the submergiid cl,asses. To this there mjust be aickitd,.
atthe vety ttkkt, anbtbieF nUlioii, representing those d^>eRdeat upon
the criminal, hinatic and other classes, not enumerated here, and the
more or less helpless of the class immediately above the houselees and
starving. -This brings ip y total ^o three milUfins.or. Jo DUt.it roughly

ptioni^ly bad
try. Wages
1 the number
warren at the
reat Britain,
liere in East
ny homeless
ithnal Green,
double the
ring out the

!ted Riniploin.
165,500

,550,000

.715.500
190,000

,905,500

00 were in

I. In 1889,
the average
0/JOO. The

1,660
0,883
1,270

1.413
910

6,136;

s (excluding
two inillions
3t be aidded,.
endeat upon
ere, and the
ouseleas and
it.it rou|^y

OESTITUTION--3.000.000 STRONG.

to one-tenth of the population. According to Lord Brabazon and Mr.
Samuel Smith, "between two and three millions of oun population arc
always pauperised and degraded." Mr. Chamberlain says there is a
"population equal to that of the metropolis/' — that is, between four
and five millions — " which has remained constantly in a state of abject
destitution and misery." Mr. Giffen is more moderate. The sub-
merged clas'S) according to him, comprises one in live of manual
labourers, six in 100 of the, population. . Mr. Giffen does not add
the third million which is living on the border line. Between Mr.
Chamberlain's four millions and a half, and Mr. Giffcn's I,8oo,ocx3,
I am content to take three millions as renrescnting the total' strength
of the destitute army.

Darkest England, then, may oe said to have a population about
equal to that of Scotland. Three million men, women, and children,
a vast despairing multitude in a condition nominally free, but really
enslaved ; — these it is whom we have to save.

It is a large order. England emancipated her negroes sixty years
ago, at a cost of ;^40,ooo,ooo, and has never ceased boasting about it
since. But at our own doors, from " Plymouth to Peterhead,"
stretches this waste Continent of humanity — three million human
beings who are enslaved — some of them to taskmasters as merciless
as any West Indian overseer, all of them to destitution and despair.

Is anything to be done with them ? Can anythinf^ be done for
them? Or is this million-headed mass to be regarded as offering a
problem as insoluble as that of the London sewage, which, feculent and
festering, swings heavily up and down the basin of the Thames with
the ebb and flow of the tide ?

This Submerged Tenth — is it, then, beyond the reach of the nine-
tenths in the midst of whom they live, and around whose homes they
rot and die ? No doubt, in every large mass of human beings there
will be some incurably diseased in morals and in body, some for
whom nothing can be done, some of whom even the optimist must
despair, and for whom he can prescribe nothing but the bene-
fi:cently stern restraints of an asylum or a gaol.

But is not one in ten a proportion scandalously high ? , The
Israelites of old set apart one tribe in twelve to minister to the Lord
in the service of the Temple ; but must we doom one in ten of
"God's Englishmen" to the service of the great Twin Devils-
Destitution and Despair ?

,, . . i |IW i« W il ll »li

■^r^"-" """

1.111,]

i'-S-

'I'ii

CHAPTER in.
THE HOMELESS.

Darkest England may be described as consisting broadly of three
circles, one within the other. The outer and widest circle is
inhabited by the starving and the homeless/ but honest, Poor. The
second by those who live by Vice ; and the third and innermost region
at the centre is peopled by those who exist by Crime. The whole of
the three circles is sodden with Drink. Darkest England has many
more public-houses than the Forest of the Aruwimi has rivers, of
which Mr. Stanley sometimes had to cross three in half-an-hour.
t'i The borders of this great lost land are not sharply defined. They
are continually expanding or contracting. Whenever there is a
period of depression in trade, they stretch ; when prosperity returns,
they contract. So far as individuals are concerned, there are none
among the hundreds of thousands who live upon the out-
skirts of the dark forest who can truly say that they or
their children are secure from being hopelessly entangled in
its labyrinth. The death of the bread-winner, a long illness,
a failut'e in the City, or any one of a thousand other causes
wh!ch might be named, will bring within the first , circle
those who at present Imagine themselves free from all danger of
actual want. The death-rate in Darkest England is high. Death
is the great gaol-deliverer of the captives. But the dead are hardly
in the grave before their places arc taken by others. Some escape,
but the majority, their health sapped by their surroundings, become
weaker and weaker, until at last they fall by the way, perishing
without hope at the very doors of the oalatiai mansions which, may-
be, some of them helped to build.

Some seven years ago a great outcry was made concerning the
Housiog of the Poor. Much was said, and rightly said— it could .not

LAZARUS ON THE EMBANKMENT.

!ly of three
St circle is
Poor. The
most region
he whole of
1 has many
s rivers, of
ilf-an-hour.
led. They
there is a
ity returns,
e are none

the out-
t they or
tangled in
ng illness,
ler causes
irst^ circle

danger of
jh. Death
are hardly
me escape,
gs, become
, perishing
hich, may-

erning the
t could .not

destrpying character of many of tht tenements in which the poor
nerd in our large cities. But there is a deptli below that of the
dweller in the slums. It is that of the dweller in the street, who has
not even a lair in the slums which he can call his own. The house-
less Out-of-Work is in one respect at least like Him of whom it was
said, " Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the
Son of Man hath not where to lay His head."

The existence of these unfortunates was somewhat rudely forced
upon the attention of Society in 1887, when Trafalgar Square be-
came the camping ground of the Homeless Outcasts of London.
Our Shelters have done something, but not enough,. to provide for
the outcasts, who this night and every night arc walking about the
streets, not knowing where they can find a spot on which to rest
their weary frames. , ; '

Here is the return of one of my Officers who was told off this
summer to report upon the actual condition of the Homeless who
have no roof to shelter them in all London : —

There are still a large number of Londoners and a considerable percentage
of wanderers from thej:ountry in search of work, who find themselves at night-
fs"l '^.estitute. These now betake themselves to the seats under the plane trees
on the Embankment. Formerly they endeavoured to occupy all the seats, but
the lynx-eyed Metropolitan Police dcchned to allow any such proceedmgs, and
the dossers, knowing the invariable kindness ot the City Police, mado tracks for
that portion of the Embankment which, lying east of the Temple, coincs under
the control of the Civic Fathers. Here, between the Temple and Blackfnars, I
found the poor wretches by the sf'ore, almost every scat contained its full
complement of six— some men, some women— all reclining in various postures
and nearly all fast asleep. Just as Big Ben strikes two, the moon,
flasiiing across tht'; Thames and lighting up the stone work of thj
Embankment, brings into relief a pitiable spectacle. Here on the
stone cbutments, which afford a slight protection i"rom the biting wind,
are scores of men lying side by side, huddled together for warmth,
and, of course, without any other covering than their ordinary clothing,
which is scanty enough at the best. Some have laid down a few pieces of
waste paper, by way of taking the chill off the stones, but the majority are too
tired, even for that, and the nightly toilet ol mos« consists of first removing
^ the hat, swathing the head in whatevci old rag may be doing duty as %
handkerchief, and then replacing the hat

The intelligent-looking elderly man, who was just fixing himself ap on'a
seat, informed me that he frequently made that his night's abode. "You- see,"
pjtQtb h^ J.' there's nowhere else so comfortable. I was here last night, an(l

THE HOMELESS.

"B^

Monday and Tussday as well, that's four nig'its this wcok. 1 had no money for
lodgings, couldn't earn any, try as I might. I ve had one bit of bread to-day,
nothing else whatever, and I've earned nothing to-day or yesterday; I had
threepence the day before. Gets my living by carrying parcels, or mindihg
liursea, oi odd jobs of that sort. You see I haven't got my health, that's
where it is. I used to work on the London General Omnibus Company and
after that on the Road Car Company, but I had to go to the infirmary with
bronchitis and couldn't get work after that. What's the good of a man what's
got bronchitis and just left the infirmary ? V/ho'll engage him. I'd like to know?
Besides, it makes me short of breath at times, and I can't do much. I'm a
widower; wife died long ago. I have one boy, abroad, a sailor, but he's only
lately started and can't help me. Yes! its very fair out here of nights, seats
rather nard, but a bit of waste paper makes it a lot softer. We have women
sleep here often, and children, too. They're very well conducted, and there's
seldom many rows here, you see, because everybody's tired out. We're too
sleepy to make a row."

Another party, a tall, dull, helpless-looking individual, had walked up from
the country ; would prefer not to mention the place. He had hoped to have
obtained a hospital letter at the Mansion House so as to obtain a truss for a
bad rupture, but failing, had tried various other places, also in vain, winding
up minus money or food on the Embankment.

In addition to these sleepers, a considerable number walk about the streets
up till the early hours of the morning to hunt up some job which will bring a
copper into the empty exchequer, and save them from actual starvation. I had
some conversation with one such, a stalwart youth lately discharged from the
militia, and unable to get work. ,

" You see," said he, pitifully, " I don't know my way about like most of the
London fellows. I'm so green, and don't know how to pick up jobs like they
do. I've been walking the streets almost day and night these two weeks and
cao't get work. I've got the strength, though I shan't have it long at this rate.
I only want a job. This is the third night running that I've walked the streets
all night ; the only money I get is by minding blacking-boys' boxes while they
go into Lockhart's for their dinner. I got a penny yesterday at it. and twopence
for carrying a parcel, and to-day I've had a penny. Bought a ha'porth of bnuid
and a ha'penny mug of tea."

'Poor lad 1 probably he would soon get i|ito thieves' company, and sink into
the depths, for there is no other means of living for many like him ; it is starve
oCt steals ev9« for the young. Thsre are gangs of lad thieves in the low
Wlritecbapel lodging-houses, varying in age fron thirteen to fifteen, who live
1^ thieving oatables and other easily obtained goods from shop fronts.

lln addition to the Embankment, al fresco lodgings are found in the seats
afitsidft Sg^italfields Church, aad many homeless viranderers have their qwo litUe

■A'^.

TWELVE STORIES FROM REAL LIFE.

nooks and corners of resort in many sheltered yards, vans, etc., all over Londoa
Two poor women I observed making their home in a shop door-way in Liverpool
Street. Thus they manage in the summer ; what it's like in winter time is
terrible to think of. In many cases >t means the pauper s grave, as in the wsc
of a young woman who was wont to sleep in a van in Bedfordbury- Some men
who were aware of her practice surprised lier by dashing a bucket of water on
her. The blow to her weak system caused illness, and the inevitable sequel—
a coroner's jury came to the conclusion that the water only hastened her death,
which was due, in plain English, to starvation.

The following are some statements taken down by the same Officer
from twelve men whom he found sleeping on the Embankmexic on
the nights of June 13th and I4lh, 1890: —

No* I. "I've slept here two nights, I 'm a confectioner by trade; I eomo
from Dartford. I got turned off because I 'm getting elderly, They can get
young men cheaper, and \ have the rheumatism so bad I vo earned nothing
these two days; I thought I could get a job a' Woolwich, so 1 walked there,
but could get notbi.ig. I found a bit of bread in the road wrapped up in a bit
of newspaper. That did" ne for yesterday I had a bit of bread and butler
to-day. I 'm 54 years old. When it's wet we stand about all night under the arches "'

No. 2. " Been sleeping out three weeks all b\x* one night ; do odd jobs,
miod horses, and that sort of thing. Earned nothing to-da>, or shouldn't be
here. Have had a pen'orth of bread to-day That 's all Yesterday had some
pieces giveti to me at a cook-shop. Two days last week had nothing at all
from morning till night. By trade I'm a feather-bed dresser, but it(8 gone out
of fashion, and besides that, 1 've a cataract in one eye, and have lost the sight
of it completely. I 'm a widower, have one child, a soldier, at Dovei. My last
regular work was eight months ago, but the firm broke, Been doing odd iobs
since."

No. 3. " I *m a tailor ; have slept here four nights running Can't get work
Been out of a job three weeks. If I can muster cash 1 sleep at a lodging-house
in Vere Street, Clare Market. It was very wet last night., I left these seats and
went to Covent Garden Market and slept under co'ic.;.^. There were about
thirty of us. The police moved us on. but we went baclc^ as soon as they had
gone. I 've had a pcnorth of bread and pen'orrh 01 soup during ihc last two
Jays — often goes witiiout altogether. There are women sleep out here. Thev
larc decent people, mostly charwomen and such like who can t get work."
] No. 4.': Elderly man ; trembles visibly with excitement at mention 01 work ;
i)roduces> card carefully wrapped in old newspaper, to the effect that

If. J. R is a member of the Trade Protection League. He is a waterside
labourer; last job at that was a fortnight since. Has earned nothing for five

ays.' .Had a bit of bread this morning, but not a scrap since. Had a cup of

■P"

THE HOMELESS.

tea and two slices of bread yesterday, and the same the day before ; the deputy
at a lodging house gave it to him. He is fifty years old» and is still damp from
sleeping out in the wet last night.

No. 5. Sawyer by trade, machinery cut him out. Had a job, haymaking
near Uxbridgc. Had been on same job lately for a month ; got 2s. 6d.
a day. (Probably spent it in drink, seems a very doubtful worker.") Has been
odd jobbing a long time, earned 2d. to-day, bought a.pcnorth of tea and ditto of
sugar (produces same from pocket) but can't get any place to make the tea , was
hoping to get to a lodging house where he could borrow a teapot, but had no
money. Earned nothing yesterday, slept at a casual ward ; very poor place, get
insufficient food, considering the labour. Six ounces of bread and a pint of
skilly tor breakfast, one ounce of cheese and six or seven ounces of bread for
dinner (bread cut by guess). Tea same as breakfast, — no supper. For this you
have to break 10 cwt. of stones, or pick 4 lbs. of oakum.

Number 6. Had slept out four nights running. Was a distiller by trade ;
been out four months ; unwilling to enter into details of leaving, but it was his
own fault. (Very likely ; a heavy, thick, stubborn, and senseless-looking
icllow, six feet higli, thick neck, strong limbs, evidently destitute of ability.)
Does odd jobs ; earned 3d. for minding a horse, bought a cup ot coflee and
pen'orth of bread and butter. Has no money now. Slept under Waterloo
Bridge last night.

No. 7. Good-natured looking man ; one who would suffer and say nothing ;
clothes shining with age, grease, and dirt ; they hang on his joints as on pegs ;
awful rags ! I saw him endeavouring to walk. He lifted his feet very slowly
and put them down carefully in evident pain. His legs are bad ; been in
infirmary several times with them. His uncle and grandfather were clergymen ;
both dead now. He was once in a good position in a money office, and after-
wards in the London and County Bank for nine years. Then he went with an
auctioneer who broke, and he was left ill, old, and without any trade. " A
clerk's place," says he, " is never worth having, because there are so many of
them, and once out you can only get another place with difficulty. I have a
brother-in-law on the Stock Exchange, but he won't own me. Look at my
clothes? Is it likely?"

No. 8. Slept here four nights running. Is a builder's labourer by trade, that
is, a handy-man. Had a settled job for a few weeks which expired three weeks
since. Has earned nothing for nine days. Then helped wash down a shop
front and got 2s. 6d. for it. Does anything he can get. Is 46 years old. Earns
about 2d. or 3d. a day at horse cinding. A cup of tea and a bit of bread
yesterday, and same to-day, is all he has had.

No. 9. A plumber's labourer (all these men who are somebody's "labourers"
are poor samples of humanity, evidently lacking in grit, and destitute oi
ability to do any work which would mean decent wages). Judging frotn

THE NOMADS OF CIVILIZATION.'

B ; the deputy
ill damp from

b, haymaking
; got 2s. 6d.
r.) Has been
;a and ditto of
2 the tea , was
3t, but had no
poor place, get
and a pint of
23 of bread for
, For this you

iller by trade ;
but it was his
nsclcss-looking
utc of ability.)
> of coflee and
nder Waterloo

d say nothing ;
its as on pegs ;
eet very slowly
bad; been in
ere clergymen ;
fice, and after-
e went with an
iny trade. "A
are so many of
ulty. I have a
Look at my

by trade, that
ed three weeks
h down a shop
ars old. Earns
a bit of bread

y's "labourers"
d destitute ot
Judging frotn

lappeiTranceSf- they will do nothing well. They are a kind of automaton, with
the machinery ' rusty ; slow, ■ dull, and incapatle. The man of ordinary
inteiygence leaves them in the rear. They could doubtless earn more even
at^oddjobs, but lack the energy. Of course, this means little food,
e.VppgUre;; to weather, and increased incapability day by day. ("From
hipj that hath not," etc.) Out of work through. slackness, does odd jobs; slept
here three nights running. Is a dock labourer when he can get work. Has 6d.
an hour; works so many hours, according as he is wanted. Gets 2s., 3s., or
4s. 6d. a day. Has to work very nard for it. Casual ward life is also very hard,
he says, ifor those who are not used to it, and there is not enough to eat. Has
haid to-day a pen'orth of bread, for minding a cab. Yesterday he spent 3id. on
a breakfast, and that lasted him all day. Age 25.

No. 10. Been out of work a month. Carman by trade. Arm wlfliered, and
cannot do work properly. Has slept here all the week ; got an awful cold
through the wet. Lives at odd jobs (they all do). Got sixpence yesterday for
minding a cab and carrying a couple of parcels. Earned nothing to-day, but
had one good meal ; a lady gave it him. Has been walking about all day Iook«
ing for work, and is tired out. • s

No, II. Youth,' aged 16. Sad case; Londoner. Works at odd jobs and
matches selling. Has taken 3d. to-day, i.e., net profit i|d. Has five boxes still.
Has slept here every night for a month. Before that slept in Covent Garden
Market or on doorsteps. ' Been sleeping out six months, since he left Feltham
Industrial School. Was sent there for playing trunnt. Has had one bit of bread
;.o-day ; yesterday had only some gooseberries and cherries, i.e., bad ones that
had been thrown away. Mother is alive. She "chucked him out" when he
returned home on leaving Feltham because he could'nt find her money for drink.

No. 12. Old man, age 67. Seems to take rather a humorous view of the
position. Kind of Mark Tapley. Says he can't say he docs like it, but then he
must like it 1 Ha, ha ! Is a slater by trade. Been out of work some time ;
younger men naturally get the work. Gets a bit of bricklaying sometime ■; ; can
turr. his hand toanything. Goes miles and gets nothing. Earned one and two-
pence this week at holding horses. Finds it hard, certainly. Used to care once,
and get down-hearted, but that's no good ; don't trouble now. Had a bit of
bread and butter and cup of coffee to-day. H3altli is awful bad, not half the
size he '/:■ J ; exposure and want of food is the causa ; got wet last night, and is
very stiii in consequence. Has been walking about since it was light, that is
3 a.m. Was so cold and wet and weak, scarcely knew what to do. Walked to
Hyde Park, and got a little sleep there on a dry seat as soon as the park opened.

These are fairly typical cases of the men who arc now wandering-
homeless through the strcetr.. That is the way in which the nomads
!of civilization are constantly being recruited from aboy^

iMia

tor

THE HOMELESS.

..-

IVy

Such are the stories gathered at random one Midsummer night
this year under the shade of the plane trees of the Embankment. A
month later, when one of my staff took the census of the sleepers
out of doors along the line of the Thames from Blackfriars to
Westminster, he found three hundred and sixty-eight persons
sleeping in the open air. Of these, two hundred and seventy were
on the Embankment proper, and ninety-eight in and about Covent
Garden Market, while the recesses of Waterloo and Blackfriars
Bridges were full of human misery.

This, be it remembered, was not during a season of bad trade.
The revival of business has been attested on all hands, notably by
the barometer of strong drink. England is prosperous enough to
drink rum in quantities which appall the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
but' she is not prosperous enough to provide other shelter than the
midnight sky for these poor outcasts on the Embankment.

To very many even of those who live in London it may be news
that there are so many hundreds who sleep out of doors every night.
There are comparatively few people stirring after midnight, and when
we are snugly tucked into our own beds we are apt to forget the
multitude outside in the rain and the storm who are shivering the
long hours through on the hard stone seats in the open or under the
arches of the railway. These homeless, hungry people are, however,
there, but being broken-spirited folk for the most part they seldom
make their voices audible in the ears of their neighbours. Now and
again, however, a harsh cry from the depths is heard for a moment,
jarring rtidely upon the ear and then all is still. The inarticulate
classes speak as seldom as Balaam's ass. But they sometimes find a
voice.1;. Here for instar.ce is one such case which impressed me much.
It was reported in one of the Liverpool papers some time back. The
speaker was haranguing a small knot of twenty or thirty men : —

" My lads," he commenced, with one hand in the breast of his
ragged vest, and the other, as usual, plucking nervously at his beard,
" This kind o' work can't last for ever." (Deep and earnest ex-
clamations, " It can't 1 It shan't") "Well, boys," continued the speaker,
" Somebody'll have to find a road out o' this. What we want is work,
not work'us bounty, though the parish has been busy enough
amongst us lately, God knows! What we want is honest work.
(Hear, hear.) Now, what I propose is that each of you gets^fifty
n.-..es -to joiii you ; that'll make about 1,200 starving chaps — "
*J%Xid then ?"_ asked several _verj^gaunt^and_hungry-looking men

«l ; '

'A LAZARUS PROCESSION OF DESPAIR.

ner night
nent. A
i sleepers
cfriars to
persons
:nty were
It Covent
lackfriars

3ad trade,
otably by
enough to
xchequer,
r than the

y be news

'ery night.

and when

forget the

vering the

under the

, however,

ley seldom

Now and
a moment,
narticulate
mes find a

me much,
ack. The
nen : —
east of his

his beard,
arnest ex-
le speaker,
int is work,
sy enough
nest work,
gets.fifty
chaps — "
oking men

excitedly. "Why, then," continued the leader. " Why,^thefi;"
interrupted a cadaverous-looking man from the farther and^darkeSl
end of the cellar, " of course we'll make a — ^London job of it» eh ^ '*
"No,' no," hastily interposed my friend, and holding up his hands
deprecatingly, " we'll jo peaceably about it chaps ; we'll go in \^
body to the Town Hall, and show our poverty, and ask Tor .work.
We'll take the women and children with us too." ("Too. ragged I
Too starved i They can't walk it ! ") "The women^s rags is no
disgrace, the staggerin' children '11 shdw what we come toV. JLet!§
go a thousand strong, and ask for work and bread ! "

Three years ago, in London, there were some such processions>
Church, parades to the Abbey and St. Paul's, bivouacs in TrafalgalT
Square,.^etc. But Lazarus showed his rags and his sores too con**
spicuously for the convenience of Dives, and was summarily dealtt
withwin the name of law and order. But as we havje" Lord
Mayor's Days^, when all the well-fed fur-clad City Fathers go in State
Coaches, through the town, why should we not have 9, L&2arus
Day, in, which the starving Out-of- Works, and the sweated half-
starved " in-works " of London should crawl in their tattered
raggedriess, with their gaunt, hungry faces, and emaciated wives atld
children,' a Procession of Despair through the main thoroughfare^,
past the massive houses and princely palaces of luxurious London ?

For these men are gradually, but surely, being sucked down into the
quickiand of modern life. They stretch out their grimy/hands tO.,Ua
in vain appeal, not for charity, but for work.

Work, work ! it is always work that they ask. The Divitit; curj^e
is to them the most blessed of benedictions. " In the sweat of thy
brow thou shall eat thy bread," but alas for these' forlorn sons bt
Adain;- they fail to find the bread to eat, for Society has no work f6P
themito' do. -CyThey have not even leave to sweat. As well as discuss-
ing How these poor wanderers should in the second Adam "all be made
alive," ou^ht we not to put forth some effort to effect their restoratfoii
to that share in the heritage of labour which is theirs by right. (if
descent from the first Adam ?

ii.

'.til

— ■■t'

J!;

mr^*

ii II

,' CHAPTER IV. ^

THE OUT-OF-WORKS.

There is hardly any more pathetic figure than that of the strong,
able worker crying plaintively in the midst of our palaces and churches,
not for charity, but for work, asking only to be allowed the privilege
of perpetual hard labour, that thereby he may earn wherewith to fill
his empty belly and silence the cry of his children for food. . Crying
for it and not getting it, seeking for labour as lost treasure and
finding it not, until at last, all spirit ' and vigour worn out in the
weary quest, the once willing worker becomes a broken-down
drudge, sodden with wretchedness and despairing of all help in this
world or in that which is to come. Our organisation of industry
certainly leaves ipuch to be desired. A problem which even slave
owners have solved ought not to be abandoned as insoluble by the
Christian civilisation of the Nineteenth Century.

I have already given a few life stories taken down from the lips
of those who were found homeless on the Embankment which suggest
somewhat of the hardships and the misery of the fruitless search for
work. But what a volume of dull, squalid horror— a horror of great
darkness gradually obscuring all the light of day from the life of
the sufferer — might be written from the simple prosaic experiences
of the ragged fellows whom you meet every day in the street. These
men, whose labour is their only capital, are allowed, nay coippelled,
to waste day after day by the want of any means of employment, and
then when they have seen days and weeks roll by during which
their capital has been wasted by pounds and pounds, they are
lectured for not saving the pence. When a rich man cannot employ
his capital he puts it out at interest, but the bank for the labour
capital of the poor man has yet to be invented. Yet it might be
.worth while inventing one. A man's labour is not only his capital,
but his life. ^:,When it passes it returns never more. .To utilise it. to

THE HUNT- FOR WORt^.,

prevent its wasteful squandering, to enable the poor man to bank it
up for use hereafter, this surely is one of the most urgent tasks
before civilisation.

Of all heart-breaking toil the hunt for work is surely the worst.
Ypt at any moment let a workman lose his present situation, and he
is compelled, to begin anew the dreary round of fruitless calls. Here
is the story of one among thousands of the nomads, taken down
from, his own lips, of pnewho was driven by sheer hupger into
crime.

A bright Spring morning found me landed from a western colony. Fourteen
years had passed since I embarked from the same spot. They v/ere fourteen
years, as far as results were concerned, of non-success, £ nd here I ^as again
in my own land, a stranger, with anew career to carve for myself and the
battle of life to fight over again.

My first thought was work. Nevei before had 1 felt more eager for a down-
right good chance to win my way by honest toil; but where was I to find work?
With firm determination I started in search. . One day passed without success,
and another, and another, but the thought cheered me, •' Better luck to-morrow.''
It lias been said, •• Hope springs eternal in the human breast." In my case it
was to be severely tested. . Days soon ran into weeks, amX still I was, on the
trail patiently and hopefully/ Courtesy and ppliteness so often met me in my^
jenquiries for employment that I often wished they would kick me out, and so
vary, the monotony of the sickly veneer of consideration that so thinly overlaid
the indi^erence and the absolute unconcern they had to my needs. A few cut up
'rough and said, " No ; we don't want you." " Please don't trouble us again (this
^after the second visit). We have no vacancy ; and if we had, we haye plepty of
people on hand to fill it."

Whp c^n e.xpress the feeUng that comes over one when the fact begins to
dawn that, the search for work is a failure? All my hopes and 'prospects
seemed Jo liaye; turned put false. • Helplessness, I had often heard of it, had
often talked about it, thought I knew all about it. Yes ! in others, but now I
began , to understand it for myself. Gradually my personal appearance faded.
My once faultless linen became unkempt and unclean. - Down further and
furthe'r-went the heels oi my shoes, and I drifted into that distressing condition,
" shabby gentility." .' If the odds were against me before, how much more so
nov^i seeing that I was too shabby even to command, attention) much less a
reply to\my enquiry for work.

Hunger now began to do its work, and I drifted to the dock gates, but what
phance; had ,1 among the hungry giants there? And so down ^the. stream I
ftnfted-uritil^* Grim Want " brought me to the last shilling, the last lodging, and
tiiBiasi:rieaL What shall I do^ Wliere shall I go ? 1 tried to tjiink. :,J4ust,

..■•ii
)■

i''t

■ I

It;

THE OUT-OF-WORKS.

I starve ? Surely there must be some door still open for honest willing
endeavour, but where ? What can I do? " Drink," said the Tempter; but to
drink to drunkenness needs cash, and oblivion by liquor demands an equivalent
in the currency.

Starve or steal. •' You must do one or the other," said tlie Tempter. But I
Tecoiled from being a Thief. " V/hy be so particular ? " says the Tempter again.
"You are down now, who will trouble about you? Why trouble about
yourself? The choice is between starving and stealing." And I struggled
until hunger stole my judgment, and then I became a Thief.

No one can pretend that it was an idle fear of death by starvation
which drove this poor fellow to steal. Deaths from actual hunger are
more common than is generally supposed. Last year, a man, whose
name was never known, was walking through St. James's Park, when
three of our Shelter men saw him suddenly stumble and fall. They
thought he was drunk, but found he had fainted. They carried him
to the bridge and gave him to the police. They took him to St.
George's Hospital, where he "died. It appeared that he had, ac-
cording to his own tale, walked up from Liverpool, and had been
without food for five days. The doctor, however, said he had gone
longer than that. The jury returned a verdict of " Death from
Starvation."

Without food for five days or longer ! Who that has experienced
the sinking sensation that is felt when even a single meal has been
sacrificed may form some idea of what kind of slow torture killed that
man!

In 1888 the average daily numoer of unemployed in London was
Estimated by the Mansion House Committee at 20,000. This vast
teservoir of unemployed labour is the bane of all efforts to raise the
scale ofliving, to improve the condition of labour. Men hungering to
death for lack of opportunity to earn a crust are the materials from
which " blacklegs " are made, by whose aid the labourer is constantly
defeated in his- attempts to improve his condition.

This is the probleniibat-m\de.rlies all questions of TradesUnionism,
and aTTScHemes for the Improvement of the Condition of the Industrial
Army: ' To rear any stable edifice that will not perish when the first
storm rises and the first hurricane blows, it must be built not upon
sand, but upon a rock. And the worst of all existing Schemes for
social betterment by organisation of the skilled \\rorkers and the like
is that they are founded, not upon " rock," nor even upon " sand,"
but upon the bottomless bog of the stratum of the Workless. It is,

loncst wilUng
tnpter ; but to
an equivalent

upter. But I
empter again,
rouble about
d I struggled

y Starvation

1 hunger are

man, whose

Park, when

fall. They

carried him

him to St.

he had, ac-

d had been

le had gone

!)eath from

experienced
;al has been
e killed that

!^ndon was
This vast
to raise the
ungering to
erials from
• constantly

jUnionism,
e Industrial
en the first
: not upon
ichemes for
nd the like
)n "sand,"
less. It is

AN IMMENSE PROBLEM

here where we must begin. The regimentation of industrial workers
who have got regular work is not so very difficult. That can be
done, and is being done, by themselves. The problem that we have
to face is the regimentation, the organisation, of those who have not
got work, or who have only irregular work, and who from sheer
pressure of absolute starvation are driven irresistibly into cut-throat
competition with their better employed brothers and sisters. Skin
for skin, all that a man hath, will he give for his life ; much more,
then, will those who experimentally know not God give .ill that they
might hope hereafter to have — in this world or in the world to come.

There is no gainsaying the immensity of the problem. It is
appalling enough to make us despair. But those who do not put
their trust in man alone, but in One who is Almighty, have no right
to despair. To despair is to lose faith ; to despair is to forget God.
Without God we can do nothing in this frightful chaos of human
misery. But with God we can do all things, and in the faith that He
has made in His image all the children of men we face even this
hideous wreckage of humanity with a cheerful confidence that if we
are but faithful to our own high calling He will not fail to open up a
way of deliverance.

I have nothing to say against those who are endeavouring to open
up a way of escape without any consciousness of God's help. For
them I feel only sympathy and compassion. In so far as they are
endeavouring to give bread to the hungry, clothing to the naked, and
above all, work to the workless, they are to that extent endeavouring
to do the will of our Father which is in Heaven, and woe be unto all
those who say them nay ! But to be orphaned of all sense of the
Fatherhood of God is surely not a secret source of strength. It is
in most cases — it would be in my own — the secret of paralysis. If I
did not feel my Father's hand in the darkness, and hear His voice in
the silence of the night watches bidding me . put my hand to this
thing, I would shrink back dismayed ; — but as it is I dare not.

How many are there who have made similar attempts and have failed,
and we have heard of them no more ! Yet none of them proposed to
deal with more than the mere fringe of the evil which, God helping me, 1
will try. to face in all its immensity. Most Schemes that are put
forward :?ffbr^s-the^ Improvement of the Circumstances vof^ the
People :*^are yfcither i avowedly orj^ actually limited to .those ? whose
condition ^-lea^tf needs amelioration. , The Utopians/Cthe^cono-
|nistS|^and^^mQ§.t j of . tHe ^ihilanthropists projgound : remedies,

s«

THE OUT-OF-WORKS.

which, if adopted to-morrow, would only affect the aristo
cracy of tl>c miserable. It is the thrifty, the industrious, the sober,
the thoughtful who can take advantage of these plans. But
the thrifty, the industrious, the sober, and the thoughtful are already
very well able for the most part to take care of. themselves. No one
will ever make even a visible dint on the Morass of Squalor who
does Pot deal with the improvident, the lazy, the vicious, and the
criminal. The Scheme of Social Salvation is not worth discussion
which is not as wide as the Scheme of Eternal Salvation set forth in
the Gospel. The Glad Tidings must be to every creature, not merely
to an elect few who are to be saved while the mass of their fellows
are predestined to a temporal damnation. We have had this doctrine
of an inhuman cast-iron pseudo-political « economy too long
enthroned amongst us. It is now time to fling down the false idol,
and proclaim a Temporal Salvation as full, free, and universal, and
with no other limitations than the " Whosoever will," of the Gospel.

To attempt to save the Lost, we must accept no limitations to
human brotherhood. If the Scheme which I set forth in these and
the following pages is not applicable to the Thief, the Harlot, the
Drunkard, and the Sluggard, it may as well be dismissed without
ceremony. As Christ came to call not the saints but sinners to
repentance, so the New Message of Temporal Salvation, of salvation
from pinching poverty, from rags and misery, must be offered to all.
They may reject it, of course. But we who call ourselves by the
name of Christ are not worthy to profess to be His disciples until wc
have set an open door before the least and worst of these
who are now apparently imprisoned for life in a horrible
dungeon of misery and despair. The responsibility for its rejection
must be theirs, not ours. We all know the prayer, '' Give me neither
poverty nor riches, feed me with food convenient for me " — and for
every child of man on this planet . thank God the prayer of Agur,
the son of Jakeh, may be fulfilled.

At present how far it is from being realised may be seen by anyone
who will take the trouble to go down to the docks and see the struggle
for work. Here is a sketch of what was found there this summer : —

London Docks, 7.25 a.m. The three pairs of huge wooden doors are closed.
Leaning against them, and standing about, there are perhaps a couple of
hundred men. The public house opposite is full, doing a heavy trade. AV
along the road are groups of men, and from each direction a steady stream
increases the crowd at the gate.'

AT¥THE DOCK GATES

the aristo
5, the sober,
plans. But

are already
Es. No one
Squalor who
>us, and the
1 discussion

set forth in
;, not merely
heir fellows
:his doctrine
too long
ic false idol,
tiversal, and
:he Gospel,
imitations to
in these and

Harlot, the
sed without

sinners to

of salvation
ffered to all.
;lves by the
>les until wc
it of these

a horrible
its rejection
'e me neither
"—and for
rer of Agur,

n by anyone

the struggle

; summer : —

>rs are closed.
s a couple of
ivy trade. AH
Steady stream

7.30. Doors open, there. is a general, rush to the interior. Everybody
inarches about a hundred yards along to thieiron barrier— a temporary chain
affair, guarded by the dock police. Those men who have previously (i>.r night
before) been engaged, show their ticket and pass through, about six hundred.
The rest— some five hundred— stand behind the barrier, patiently waiting. tlie
chance of a job, but /ess than twenty of these get engaged. They arc taken on
by a foreman who appears next the barrier and proceeds to pick his men;~ No
sooner is the foreman seen, than there is a wild rush to the spot and a sharp,
mad fight to " catch his eye." The men picked out, pass tlie barrier, and the
excitement dies away until another lot of men are wanted.

They wait until eiglit o'clock strikes, which is the signal to' withdraw.
The barrier is taken down and all those hundreds of men, wearily disperse to
" find a job." Five hundred applicants, twenty acceptances ! No wonder one
tired-out looking individual ejaculates, "Oh dear, Oh dear! Whatever shall I
do ? " A few hang about until mid-day ,6n the slender chance of getting taken
on then for half a day.

Ask the men and they will tell yOU' something like the follSwing
story, which gives the simple experiences of a dock labourer:

■.s. »•'

Ir.

R. P. said : — "I was in regular work 7^ at -. the • South West ■ Indi^ Docks
before the strike. We got 5d. an hour. Start work 8 a.m. summer and 9 a.m.'
winler. Often there would be five hundred go, and only twenty get taken on
(that is besides those engaged the night previous!) The foreman stood in his
box, and called out the men he wanted. He would know quite five hundred by
name. It was a regular fight to get work, I have known nine hundred to be
taken on, but there's always hundreds turned away. -You see they get to know
when ships come in, and when they're conseqicnily lilnly to be, wanted, and
turn up then in greater numbers. I would earn yts. a week sometimes and
then perhaps nothing for a fortnight.' That's what makes it so hard. You get
nothing to eat for a week scarcely, and then when you get taken on, you are so
weak that you can't do it properly. I've stood in the crowd at the gate and had
to go away without work, hundreds .of times. Still I should go at it again if I
could. ^: I got tired of the little work and went away into the country to get work
bn a farm, but couldn't get it, so I'm without the \os. that it costs to join the
jDockers' Union. I'm going to the country again in a day or two tu try again.
Expect to get 3^ a day perhaps. ^' Shall come back to the docks again. ' There
is a chance of getting regular'dock work, and thut is, to lounge about the pubs,
where the foremen go, and treat them. Then they will very likely take you on

next day."

'*\:vj_i,"."..'

R. Prwas a liori-Uhionist. Henry F. is a Unionist. His history

'I
r

THE OUT-OF-WORKS.

" I worked at St. Katherine's Docks five months ago. You have to get to the
gates at 6 o'clock for the first call. There's generally about 400 waiting. They
will take on one to two hundred. Then at 7 o'clock there's a second call.
Another 400 w^U have gathered by then, and another hundred or so will be takcii
on. Also there will probably be calls at nine and one o'clock. About the same
number turn up but there's no work for many hundreds of then. I was a Union
man. That means los. a week sick pay, or 8s. a week for slight accidents ; also
some other advantages. The Docks won't take men on nov unless they are
Unionists. The point is that there's too many men. I would often be out of
work a fortnight to three weeks at a time. Once earned £-^ in a week, working
day and night, but then had a fortniglit out directly after. Especially when there
don't happen to be any ships in for a few days, which means, of course, nothing
to unload. That's the time ; there's plenty of men almost starving then. . They
have DO trade to go to, or can get no work at it, and they swoop down to the
docks for work, when they had much better stay away."

But it is not only at the dock-gates that you come upon these
unfortunates who spend their lives in the vain hunt Tor work. , Here
is the story of another man whose case has only too many parallels.

C. is a fine built man, standing nearly six feet. He has been in the Royal
Artillery for eight years and held very good situations whilst in it. It seems
that he was thrifty and consequently steady. He bought his discharge, and
being an excellent cook opened a refreshment house, but at the end of five
months he was compelled to close his shop on account of slackness in trade,
which was brought about by the closing of a large factory in the locality.

After having worked in Scotland and Newcastlc-on-Tyne for a few years,
and through ill health having to give up his situation, he came to London with
the hope that he might get something to do in his native town. He has had no
regular employment for the past eight months. His wife and family are in a
state 01 destitution, and he remarked, " We only had i lb. of bread between us
yesterday." He is six weeks in arrears of rent, and is afraid that he will be
ejected. The furniture which is in his home ij not wrrth 3s. and the clothes ol
each member of his family are in a tattered state and hardly (it for the *ag bag.
He assured us he had tried everywhere t? get employment and would be willing
to take anything. His characters are very good indeed.

Now, it may seem a preposterous dream that any arrangement can
be devised by which it may be possible, under all circumstances, to
provide ..food, clothes, and she'ter for all these Out-of-Works
without any loss of self respect ; but I am convinced that it can be
done,'providing only that they are willing to Work, and, God helping
|mc, if the means are forthcoming, I mean to try. to do it ; how, and
ivhere, and when, I will explain in subsequent chaptecsi

wi|

a§

th|

thi

d£

e to get to the
'aiting. They
a second call.

> will be takcifl
bout the same
I was a Union
:cidents; also
iless they are
ften be out of
feek, working
ly when there
lurse, nothing

; then. , They

> down to the

A REALISABLE IDEALl

\>i^>yj^-

:^:^

All that I need say here is, that so long as a mar[.otiki^?^^n j^
willing to submit to the discipline indispensable in everpqampijgn!
against any formidable foe, there appears to me nothing- im^ssible
about thjs ideal ; and the great element of hope before us j||;^haf the
majority are, beyond all gainsaying, eager for work;^pM6st of
them now do more exhausting work in seeking for employment than
the regular toilers do in their workshops, and do it, too, under the
darkness of hope deferred which maketh the heart sick. ^

I. .

CHAPTER V.
ON THE VERGE OF THE ABYSS.

There is, unfortunately, no need for me to attempt to set out, how-
ever imperfectly, any statement of the evil case of the sufferers whom
we wish to help. For years past the Press has been fJ.lcd with
echoes of the " Bitter Crv of Outcast London,"' with pictures of
" Horrible Glasgow," and the like. We have had several volui^es
describing " How the Poor Live," and I may therefore assume that
all my readers are more or less cognizant of the main outlines of
" Darkest England." My slum officers are living in the midst cf it
their reports are before me, and one day I may publish some '
detailed account of the actual '■-';ts of the social condition of the
Sunken Millions. Put not now. All that must be taken as read. I
only glance at the subject in order to bring into clear relief the
salient points of our new Enterprise.

I have spoken of the houseless noor. tir.ch of these represents a
point in the scale of human sufferi.ig below that of those who have sJill
contrived to keep a shelter over their heads. A home is a home, be
it ever so low ; and the desperate tenacity with which the poor
will cling to the last wretched semblance of one is very touch-
ing. There are vile dens, fever-haunted and stench. al crowded
courts, where the return of summer is dreaded because it
Oieans the orwloosing of myriads of vermin which render night
unbearable, which, nevertheless, are regarded at this moment as
havens of rest by their hard-working occupahts. They can scarcely
be said to be furnished. A chair, a mattress, and a few miserable
sticks constitute all the furniture of the biiiglc room in which they
have to sleep, and breed, and die ; but 'they cling to it as ^ drowning
man to a half-submerged raft. Every week they contrive by pinch-
ing and scheming to raise the rent, for with them it is pay or go ;
and they, struggle to meet the collector as the sailor, nerves himself

A cry: OF DESPAtR.

«t out, how-
Terers whom
with

n nilcd

pictures of
;ral volui^es
assume that
1 outlines of
midst cf it
1 some '
jition of the
1 as read. I
ir relief the

represents a
rho have still
3 a home, be
:h the poor
very touch-
.al crowded

because it
ender night

moment as
can scarcely
V miserable
which they

a drowning
;<: by pinch-
pay or go ;
rves himself

to avoid being sucked under by the foaming wave. If at any time
work fails or sickness comes they are liable to drop helplessly into
the ranks of the homeless. It is bad for a single man to have to
confront the struggle for life in the streets and Casual Wards. But
how much more terrible must it be for the married man with his
v/ife and children to be turned out into the streets. So long as the
jamily has a lair into which it can creep at night, he keeps his footing;
but when he loses that solitary foothold then arrives the time if
there be such athing as Christian compassion, for the helping hard
to be held out to save him from the vortex that sucks him downward
— ay, downward to the hopeless under-strata of crime and despair.

** The heart knoweth its own bitterness and the stranger intcr-
meddleth not therewith." But now and then out of the depths there
sounds a bitter wail as of some strong swimmer in his agony as he
is drawn under by the current. A short time ago a respectable man,
a chemist in Holloway, fifty years of age, driven hard to the wall,
tried to end it all by cutting his throat. His wife also cut her
throat, and at the same time they gave strychnine to their only
child. The effort failed, and they were placed on trial for attempted
murder. In the Court a letter was read which the poor wretch had
written before attempting his life : —

My dearest George, — Twelve months have I now passed of a most miserable
and struggling existence, and I really cannot stand it any more. I am com-
pletely worn out, and relations who could assist me won't do any more, for such
was uncle's last intimation. Never mind ; he can't take his money and comfort
with him, and in all probability will find himself in the same boat as myself.
He never enquires whether I am starving or not. ;^3— amere flei.-bite to him —
would have put us straight, and with his security and good interest might have
obtained me a good situation long ago. I can face poverty and degradation no
longer, and would sooner die than go to the workhouse, whatever may be the
a\v.';tl consequences of the steps we have takt '.. We have, God forgive us,
^ c>' oir darling Arty with us out of pure love and affection, so that the
din; s'ould never be cuffed about, or reminded or taunted with his heart-
brok.' • pa.-ents' cfime. My poor wife has done her best at needle-work,
washing, house-minding, &c., in fact, anything and everything that would bring
ill a shilling ; but it would only keep us in semi-starvation. I have now done
six weeks' travrlling from morning till night, and not received one farthing for
it. If that is not enough to drive >ou mad— wickedly mad — I don't know what
is. No bright prospect anywhere ; no ray of hope.

May God Almighty forgive us for this heinous sin, and have mercy
on our sinful souls, is the prayer of your miserable, broken- he^rtedj

;■:'(■

1^'

4i2

ON THE VERGE OF THE ABYSS.

but loving brother, Arthur. We have now done everything that we can
possibly think of to avert this wicked proceeding, but can discover no
ray of hope. Fervent prayer has availed us nothing; our lot is caat,
and we must abide by it. It must be God's will or Ho would have
ordained it differently. Dearest Georgy, I am exceedingly sorry to leave you
all, but I am mad — thoroughly mad. You, dear, must try and forget us, and,
if possible, forgive us ; for I do not consider it our own fault we have not
succeeded. If you could get £'^ for our bed it will pay our rent, and our scanty
furniture may fetch enough to bury us in a cheap way. Don't grieve over us or
follow us, for we shall not be worthy of such respect. Our clergyman has
never called on us or given us the least consolation, though ! called on him a
month ago. He is paid to preach, and" there he considers his responsibility
ends, the rich excepted. We have only yourself and a very few others who,
care one pin what becomes of us, but you must try and forgive us, is the last
fervent prayer of your devotedly fond and affectionate but broken-hearted and
persecuted brother. ■ (Signed) R. A. O .

That is an autl 'itic human document — a transcript from the life
of one among thousr- vho go down inarticulate into the depths.

They die and make no . ign, or, worse still, they continue to exist,
carrying about with them, year after year, the bitter ashes of a life
from which the furnace of misfortune has burnt away all joy, and hope,
and strength. Who is there who has not been confronted by many

despairing ones, who come, as Richard O went, to the clergyman,

crying for help, and how seldom have we been able to give it them ?
It is unjust, no doubt, for them to blame the clergy and the comfort-
able weil-to-do— for what can they do but preach and offer good

advice ? To assist all the Richard O s' by direct financial advance

would drag even Rothschild into the gutter. And what else can be
done? Yet something else must be done if Christianity is not to be
a mockery to perishing men.

Here is another case, a very common case, which illustrates how
the Army of Despair is recruited.

Mr. T., Margaret Place, Gascoign Place, Bethnal Green, is a bootmaker by trade.
Is a good hand, and has earned three shillings and sixpence to four shillings and
sixpence a day. He was taken ill last Christmas, and went to the London Hospital ;
was there three months. A week after he had gone Mrs. T. had rheumatic
fever, afld was taken to Bethnifl Green Infirmary, where she remained about
three months. Directly after they had been taken ill, their furniture was seized
for the three weeks' rent which was owing. Consequently, on becoming ,con^
valescent, they were homel sij. They came out about the same time. He wen!
put to a lodging-house lor a night or two, untU she came out. He then had

WANTED /C'^^ SOCIAL"^ LIFE-BOAT^ BRIGADE II

twopence, and she had sixpence, which a nurse had given her. They went to ai
lodging-house together, but th' society there was dreadful. Next day he had a
day's work, and got two shilling and sixpence, and on the strength of this they,
took a furnished room at tenpencu per day (payable nightly). ' His work lasted!
a few weeks, when he was again taken ill, lost his job, and spent all their money.^
Pawned a shirt and apron for a shilling ; spent that, too. At last pawned theifj
tools for three shillings, which got them a few d8>s' food and lodging. He is]
now minus tools and cannot work at his own job, and does anything he can.
Spent their I..0I twopence on a pen'orth each of tea «nd sugar. In two days
they had a slice of bread and butter each, that 's all. They are both very weak
through want of food.

" Let things alone," the laws of supply and demand, and all the
rest of the excuses by which those who stand on firm ground salve
their- consciences when they leave their brother to sink, how do
they look when we apply them to the actual loss of life at sea?
Doe s "Let things alone" m an the lifeboat? Will the inexorable laws of
pofitical economy save th e shipAVffiCWSi s aildr ffftTft (R^ poihng surf?
Th^y "Often enough are responsible for his disaster. Coffin ships
are a direct result of the wretched policy of non-interference with the
legitimate' operations of commerce, but no desire to make it pay
created the National Lifeboat Institution, no law of supply and
demand actuates" th'e volunteers who risk their lives to bring the
shipwrecked to shore.

What we have to do is to apply the same principle to society.
W e want a Social ^lifehflali TniRif^Mt'^", a Social Lifeboat Brigade, to
snatch from the abyss those who, if left to themselves, will perish
as miserably as the crew of a ship that founders in mid-ocean.

The moment that we take in hand this work we shall be
compelled to turn our attention seriously to the question
whether prevention is not better than cure. It is easier and
cheaper, and in every way better, to prevent the loss
of home than to have to re-create that home. It is better to keep a
man out of the mire than to let him fall in first and then risk the
chance of plucking him out. Any Scheme, therefore, that attempts
to deal with the reclamation of the lost must tend to develop into an
endless, variety of ameliorative measures, of some of which I shall
have somewhat to say hereafter. I only mention the subject here in
order that no one may say I am blind to the necessity of going further
and '^adopting wider plans of operation than those which I put
lorward in tiiis book;. ^The renovation of our Social System, is a

IV;

•r

44'

O.M THE VERGE OF THE ABYSS.

work so vast that no one of us, nor all of us put together, can define
all the measures that will have to be taken before we attain even the
Cab-Horse Ideal of existence for our children and children's
children. All that we can do is to attack, in a serious, practical
spirit the worst and most pressing evils, knowing that if we do our
duty we obey the voice of God. He is the Captain of our Salvation.
If we but follow where He leads we shall not want for marching orders,
nor need we imagine that He will narrow the field of operations.

I am labouring under no delusions as to the possibility of inaugu-
rating the Millennium by any social specific. In the struggle of life
the weakest will go to the wall, and there are so many weak. The
fittest, in tooth and claw, will survive. All that we can do is to
soften the lot of the unfit and make their suffering less horrible than
it is at present. No amount of assistance will give a jellyfish a back-
bone. No outside propping will make some men stand erect. All
material help from without is useful only in so far as it develops
moral strength within. And some men seem to have lost even the
very faculty of self-help. There is an immense lack of common
sense and of vital energy on the part of multitudes.

It is against Stupidity in every shape and form that we have to
wage our eternal battle. But how can we wonder at the want of sense
on the part of those who have had no advantages, when we see such
plentiful absence of that commodity on the part of those who have
had all the advantages ?

How can we marvel if, after leaving generation after generation
to grow, up uneducated and underfed, there should be developed a
heredity of incapacity, and that thousands of dull-witted people
should be bom into the world, disinherited before their birth of their
share in the average intelligence of mankind ?

Besides those who are thus hereditarily wanting in the qualities
necessary to enable them to hold their own, there are the
weak, the disabled, the aged, and the unskilled ; worse than all,
there is the want of character. Those who have the best of reputa-
tion, if they lose their foothold on the ladder, find it difficult enough
to regain their place. What, then, can men and women who have no
character do ? When a master has the choice of a hundred honest
men, is it reasonable to expect that he will select a poor fellow with
tarnished reputation ?

■MX this is true, and it is one of the things that makes the problem
iHmost insoluble. And insoluble it is, I am absolutely convisu:ed,

wl
bf

Saving the body to save the soul:

", can define
in even the
children's
's, practical
we do our
" Salvation,
ling orders,
ations.
of inaugu-
ggle of life
eak. The
n do is to
rrible than
ish a back-
irect. All
t develops
t even the
f common

^e have to
It of sense
e see such
who have

feneration
veloped a
:d people
h of liieir

qualities

are the
than all,
f reputa-
t enough

have no
d honest
low with

unless it is possible to bring new moral life into the soul of these
people. This should be the first object of every social reformer, whose
work will only last if it is built on the solid foundation of a new
birth, to cry " You must be born again "

To get a man soundly saved it is not enough to put on him a pair
of new breeches, to give him regular work, or even to give him a
University education. These things are all outside a man, and if the
inside remains unchanged you have wasted your labour. You must
in some way or other graft upon the man's nature a new nature,
which has in it the clement of the Divine. All that I propose in this
book is governed by that principle.

The diflference between the method which seeks to regenerate the
man by ameliorating his circumstances and that which ameliorates
his dfCmttSfalices^n order to get at the receneratronoTliirRtart,
is tne" dincrehce between the method of the gardener who grafts a
Ribstone Pippin on a crab-apple tree and one who merely ties
appTds witn string upon tne branches of the crab. To change the
nature of tiiemdmduat, W'g^T'Sr 1^^^^ soul is the

only real, lasting method of doing him any good. In many modem
schemes of social regeneration it is forgotten that " it takes a soul
to move a body, e'en to a cleaner sty," and at the risk of being mis-
understood and misrepresented, I must assert in the most un-
qualified way that it is primarily and mainly for the sake of saving
the soul that I seek the salvation of the body

But what is the use of preaching the Gospel to men whose whole

attention is concentrated upon a mad, desperate |$l3Jl|(gll§,Jj? Ji'^cp

thefiiSelve^" alive ? You ni i gTiC aj 'W€tf gfve a tract to

sailoir Ivlio'is battling wi'tmTie'suri wHicli Kas dr owned his pflpurades

and- tm'etfffflfjgr'tirttretw'ttli^-*^ he

canHSTTTeaV you^an^'rriore than a man whose head is under water
can listen to a sermon. The first thing to do is to get him at leasl
a footing on firm ground, and to give him room to live. Then you
may have a chance. At present you have none. And you will
have all the better opportunity to find a way to his heart, if hf
comes to know that it was you who pulled him out of the horrible
pit and the miry clay in which he was sinking to perdition.

problem
iviaced,

*5^j:^?TT'.' Ur— -

il ■■

CHAPTER VI

THE VICIOUS

^ Tliere are many vices and Bcven deadly sins. But of late years
inany of the seven huv e contrived to pass themselves off as virtues.
Avarice, for instance ; and Pride, when re-baptised thriH: and self>
respect, have become the guardian angels of Christian civilisation ;
and as for Envy, it is the corner-stone upon which much of our
competitive system is founded. There are still two vices which are
fortunate, or unfortunate, enough to remain undisguised, not even
concealing from themselves the fact that they are vices and not
,virtues. One is' drunkenness ; the other fornication. The vicious-
ness of these vices is so little disguised, even from those who
habitually practise them, that there will be a protest against merely
describing one of them by the right Biblical name. Why not say
prostitution ? , For this reason : prostitution is a word applied to
only one half of the vice, and that the most pitiable. Fornication
hits both sinners alike. Prostitution applies only to the woman.

When, however, we cease to regard this vice from the point of
view of morality and religion, and look at it solely as a factor in the
social problem, the word prostitution is less objectionable. For the
social burden of thJs vice is borne almost entirely by women. The
maf^mneraoSTJS!7lJy^tH€^^'^^^^^^^ himself in a

worse position in obtaining employment, in finding a home, or even
in securing a wife. His wrong-doine only hits him in his purse, or,
perhaps, in his health. His incontinence, excepting so far as
it mates to the woman whose degradation it necessitates, does not
add to the number of those for whom society has to provide. It is
an immense addition to the infamy of this vice in man that
its consequences have -to t^ borne ahnost exclusively by woman-.

The difficulty of dealing with drunkards and harlots is almost
iinaunnouptablc/^^ ^toa .U^nQt that I utterjy ^gpudiate asa/unda-

of late years
off as virtues,
rift and self-
1 civilisation ;
much of our
ces which are
»ed, not even
ices and not

The vicious-
n those who
gainst merely
Why not say
rd applied to
Fornication
; woman.

the point of

factor in the
ble. For the
iromen. The
I himself in a
ome, or even
lis purse, or,
g SO far as
tes, does not
ovide. It is
in man that
womaih.
a is almost

asaiiuuia-:

NOT! BORN BUT DAMNED INTO THE WORLD.»' ,47

(' ..,^-. '• ~ ■; ~ — ;■ — ::! ^~~" — -svvi- -4

mental denial of the essential principle 'of the Chstian religion the

popular pseudo-scientific doctrine that any man or woman is past
saving by the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit, I would
sometimes be disposed to despair when contemplating these victims
of the Devil. The doctrine of Heredity^nd the suggestion ot Irre-
sponsibility come perilously near re-establishing, on scientific bases/
the awful dogma of Reprobation which has cast so terrible a shadow
over the Christian Church. For thousands upon thousands of these
poor wretches are, as Bishop South truly said, " not so -much born
into this world as damned into it." Th e bastard of a harlo t, bom in
a brothel, suckled on gin, and familiar from earliest infancy wTHTiall
the oeSlramiH of debauch, violated before she .i§«.tw«Jve»<4nd.4Qven
out mto the Sfreets by her mother a year or two later, what chance is
there lor sucn a girl in this world — I say nothing about the. next?

li'i'!**/^'

..■j3*-^.'C»t?*-"

YersiJcfriTdase is riot exc^^ There are many such differing

in detail, but in essentials the same. And with boys it is almost
as bad. There are thousands who were begotten when both
parents were besotted with drink, whose mothers saturated them-,
selves with alcohol every day of their pregnancy, who may, be
said to have sucked in a taste for strong drink with their mothers*
milk, and who were surrounded from childhood with opportunities
and incitements to drink. How can we marvel that the constitution
thus disposed to intemperance finds the stimulus of drink indispen-
sable? Even if they make a stand against it, the increasing
pressure of exhaustion and of scanty food drives them back to the
cup. Of these poor wretches, born slaves of the bottle, predestined
to drunkenness from their mother's womb, there are — who can say
• how many? Yet they are all men; all with what the Russian
peasants call " a spark of God " in them, which can never be wholly
obscured and destroyed while life exists, and if any social scheme is
to be comprehensive a^d practical it must deal with these men. It
must provide for the drunkard and the harlot as i* ,^-ovides for the
improvident and the out-of-work. But who is sufficient for these
things ?

I will take the question of the drunkard, for thedrink difficulty lies

at the root of everything. Nine-tenths of our povertyTSl^pSWffWfce,
and cnme springTromn^his poisonous lap-rool. many of our social.

evils, wiiitTTovershadQw ,JJie.laS^ nany upas trees^ould

dwmale aw.w and die if they were not constantJxJS^tessft^iKUh, strong
driiS^^" Ipni" agreement on that point ;> in fact|^thQ

M!J

.^8

THE VICIQUS.

agreement as to the evils of intemperance is almost as universal as
.the conviction that politicians will do nothing practical to interfere
with them. In Ireland, Mr. Justice Fitzgerald says that intemperanre
leads to nineteen-twentieths of the crime in that country, but no one
proposes a Coercion Act to deal with that evil. In England,
the judges all say the same thing. Of course it is a mistake
to assume that a murder, for instance, would never be committed by
sober men, because murderers in most cases prime themselves for
their deadly work by a glass of Dutch courage. But the facility of
securing a reinforcement of passion undoubtedly tends to render
always dangerous, and sometimes irresistible, the temptation to violate
the laws of God and man.

Mere lectures against the evil habit are, however, of no avail.
\ We have to recognise, that the gin-palace, like many other evils,
\ although a poisonous, is still a natural outgrowth of our social con-
I ditions. The tap-room in many cases is the poor man's only parlour.
I Many a man takes to beer, not from the love of beer, but from a
\natural craving for the light, warmth, company, and comfort which is
jthrown in along with the beer, and which he cannot get excepting by
buying beer. Reformer gjgj)j| ne ypr gPi* "'"* '^ **•" ■'■•■'"'' "^-p ••"*•'
they can outbid it in the subsidiary attractions JVhii^jLjofffira to its
customers. 1 hen, again, let us never forget that the temptation to
•drtinflS' strongest when want is sharpest and misery the most acute.
A well-fed man is not driven to drink by the craving that torments
the hungry; and the comfortable do not crave' for the boon of for-
getfulness. Gin is the only Lethe of the miserable. The foul and
poisoned air of the dens in which thousands live predisposes to a
longing for stimulant. Fresh air, with its oxygen and its ozone,
being lacking, a man supplies the want with spirit. After a time the
longing for drink becomes a mania. Li<e seems as insupportable with-
out alcohol as without food. It is a diseabc often inherited, alv ; ys de-
veloped by indulgence, but as clearly a disease as ophthalmia or stone.
All this should predispose us to charity and sympathy. While
recognising that the primary responsibility must always rest upon
the individual, we may fairly insist that society, which, by its habits,
its customs, and its laws, has greased the slope down which these
poor creatures slide to perdition, shall seriously take in hand their
salvation.

^ow many are there who are, more or less, under the dominion
pf stroni^rink ? Statistics abound, but they seldom tell us what

universal as

10 interfere
nfemperflnre
', but no one
[n England,
) a mistake
)nimitted by
smselves for
le facility of
Is to render
ion to violate

[>f no avail,
other evils,
r social con-
mly parlour.
, but from a
!brt which is
excepting by
>«. ^e p^ until
ofiera to its
mptation to
most acute,
at torments
3oon of for-
ie foul and
isposes to a
I its ozone,
r a time the
rtable with-

alv- f ys de-
iia or stone,
ly. While

rest upon
|Mts^habitri,
rhich these
hand their

I dominion

11 us what

WANTED, A CENSUS OF DRUNKARDS.

we want to know. We know how many public-houses there are in
the land, and how many arrests for drunkenness the police make in
a year ; but beyond that we know little. Everyone knows that for
one man who is arrested for drunkenness there are at least ten-
and often twenty — who go home intoxicated. In London, for
iribtmce, there are 14,000 drink shops, and every year 20,000
persons are arrested for drunkenness. But who can for a moment
believe that there are only 20,000, more or less, habitual drunkards
in London ? By habitual drunkard I do not mean one who is
always drunk, but one who is so much under the dominion of th"
evil habit that he cannot be depended upon not to get drunk wlien-
ever the opportunity offers.

In the United Kingdom there are 190,000' public-houses, and
every year there are 200,000 arrests for drunkenness. Of course,
several of these arrests refer to the same person, who is locked up
again and again. Were this not so, if we allowed six drunkards to
each house as an average, or five habitual drunkards for one arrested
for drunkenness, we should arrive at a total of a million adults who
are more or less prisoners of the publican —as a matter of fact,
Isaac Hoyle gives i -in 1 2 of the'acluTE'p6](Jtilation. This may be an
excessive estimate, but, if we take half of a million, we shall
not be accused of exaggeration. Of iJiese some are in the last stagr
of confirmed dipsomania ; others are but over the verge; but the
procession tends ever downwards.

The loss which the maintenance of this huge standing army of a
half of a million of men who are more or less always besotted
men whose intemperance im pairs their working power, consumes their
earnings, and renders theirTTomes wretcliea, has long beltrSlamiliar
theme 'of the ptanorm.'^^iar'l^lTSr'caPi'be done for them? Total
abstinence is no doubt admirable, but how are you to get tfiem to be
totally abstinent ? When a man is drowning in mid-ocean the one
thing that is needful, no doubt, is that he should plant his feet firmly
on terra firma. But how is he to get there ? It is just what he
cannot do. And so it is with the drunkards. If they are to be rescued
there must be something more done for them than at present is
attempted, unless, of course, we decide definitely to allow the iron
laws of nature to work themselves out in their destruction. In
that .case .it might r be more merciful to facilitate the slow .workings
pf;,natural . law. There is no need of establishing a lethal chamber
lciklrjmkar.dsiJ(ikev4]xat^nto which the lost dogs .pf Loadoniiire

■'■ 1'

THE vicious;

driven, to die in peaceful sleep under the influence of carbonic oxide.
The State would only need to go a little further than it goes at
present in the way of supplying poison to the community. If, in
addition to planting a flaming gin palace at each corner, free to all
who enter, it were to supply free gin to all who have attained a
certain recognised standard of inebriety, delirium tremens would
3oon reduce our druni<en population to manageable proportions.
I can imagine ;. a cynical millionaire of the scientific philan-
thropic school making a clearance of all the drunkards in a
district by the simple expedient of an unlimited allowance
of alcohol. But that for us is out of the question. The problem
of what to do with our half of a million drunkards remains to be
solved, and few more difficult questions confront the social reformer.
The question of the harlots is, however, quite as insoluble by the
ordinary methods. For these unfortunates no one who looks below
the surface can fail to have the deepest sympathy. Some there are.
no doubt, perhaps many, who — whether from inherited passion or
from evil education — have deliberately embarked upon a life of vice,
but with the majority it is not so. Even those who deliberately
and of free choice adopt the profession of a prostitute, do so
under the stress of temptations which few moralists seem to realise.
Terrible as the fact is, there is no doubt it is a fact that there is r
industrial career in which for a short time a beautiful girl can m:
as much money with as little trouble as the profession of a courtesan.
The case recently tried at the Lewes assizes, in which the wife ol
an officer in the army admitted that while living as a kept mistress
she had received as much as ;^4,ooo a year, was no doubt very-
exceptional. Even the most successful adventuresses seldom make
the income of a Cabinet Minister. But take women in professions
and in businesses all round, and the number of young women who
have received ;^500 in one year for the sale of their person is
larger than the number of women of all ages who make a similar sum
by honest industry. It is only the very few who draw these gilded
orizes, and they only do it for a very short time. But it is
*he few prizes in every profession which allure the multitude; who
think little of the many blanks. And speaking broadly, vice offers
to every good-looking girl during the first bloom of her youth and
beauty more money than she can earn by labour in any field of
industry open to her sex. >• The penalty exacted afterwards is disease,
deflradatinn flnH death'; but these things at first are hidden from hetsight.j

FROM THE REGISTER OP THE RESCUE HOME.'

3onIc oxide.
1 it goes at
lity. If, in
free to all
attained a
lens would
proportions,
fie philan-
ards in a
allowance
he problem
nains to be
al reformer,
uble by the
looks below
e there are.
passion or
life of vice,
deliberately
ute, do so
n to realise,
there is r
rl can m;
I courtesan,
the wife of
pt mistress
doubt very
Idom make
professions
vomen who
r person is
similar sum
hese gilded
But it is
titude; who
vice offers
youth and
ly field of
s is disease,
n hersight.j

The profession of a prostitute is the only career in which the
maximum income is paid to the newest apprentice. It is the one
calliug in which at the beginning the only exertion is that of self-
indulgence ; all the prizes are at the commencement. It is the ever-
new embodiment of the old fable of the sale of the soul to the Devil.
The tempter offers wealth, comfort, excitement, but in return the
victim must sell her soul, nor docs the other party forget to exact
his due to the uttermost farthing. Human nature, however, is
short-sighted. Giddy girls, chafing against the restraints of uncon-
genial industry, see the glittering bait continually before them.
They are told that if they will but " do as others do " they will
make more in a night, if they are lucky, than they can make
in a week at their sewing ; and who can wonder that in many cases
the irrevocable step is taken before they realise that it is irrevocable,
and that they have bartered away the future of their lives for the
paltry chance of a year'o ill-gotten gains ?

Of the severity of the punishment there can be no question. If the
premium is high at the bcginnin*g, the penalty is terrible at the close.
And this penalty is exacted equally from those who have deliberately
said, "Evil, be thou my Good," and for those who have been decoyed,
snared, trapped into the life which is a living death. When you see
a girl on the street you can never say without enquiry whether she
is one of the most-to-be condemned, or the most-to-be pitied of her
sex. Many of them find themselves where they are because of a too
trusting disposition, confidence born of innocence being often the
unsuspecting ally of the procuress and seducer. Others are as much
the innocent victims of crime as if they had been stabbed or maimed
by the dagger of the assassin. The records of our Rescue Homes
abound with life-stories, some of which we have been able to verify
to the letter — which prove only too conclusively the existence of
numbers of innocent victims whose entry upon this dismal life can
in no way be attributed to any act of their own will. Many are
orphans or the children of depraved mothers, whose one idea of a
daughter is to make money out of her prostitution. Here are a few
cases on our register : —

E. C, aged i8, a soldier's child, born on the sea. Her father died, and her
mother, a thoroughly depraved wonvaa, assisted to secure her daughter's prostitu-
tion.

P. ^^^ajged 20. illegitimate child. Went to consult a doctor one tin\p'about
some ailmenU The doctur abused his position aud took advantjige uf iiivjg^

- :»t

•u

■t.

62;

THE VICIOUS.

r 'r

f,\ '

!'^

and when she complained, gave li*.: ^4 as compensation. When that was $geiJt,
having lost her character, she came >n the town. We looked the doctor up, anU
he fled.

E. A.^ aged J 7, was left an orphan very early in life, and adopted by her god-
father, who himself was the means of her ruin at the age of 10,

A girl in her teens lived with her mother in the " Dusthole," the lowest part ot
Woolwich. This woman forced her out upon the streets, and profited by her
prostitution up to the veiy night of her confinement. The mother had all the time
been the receiver of the gains.

E., neither father nor mother, was taV^n care nl by a grandmother till, at an
early age, accounted old enough. Married a sr Idier ; but shortly before the birth
of her first child, found that her deceiver had i wife and family in a distant part
of the country, and she was soon left friendless and alone. She sought an
asylum in the Workhouse for a few weeks, after which she vainly tried to get
honest employment. Failing that, and being on the very verge of starvation,
she entered a lodging-house in Westminster and " did as other girls." Here
our lieutenant found and persuaded her to leave and enter one of our Homes,
where she soon gave abundant proof of her conversion by a thoroughly changed
life. She is now a faithful and trusted servant in a clergyman's family.

A girl was some time ago discharged from a city hospital after an illness. . She
was homeless and friendless, an orphan, and obliged to work for her living.
Walking down the street and wondering what she should do next, she met a girl,
who came up to her in a most friendly fashion and speedily won her confidence.

"Discharged ill, and nowhere to go, are you?" said her new friend. "Well,
come home to my mother's ; she will lodge you, and we'll go to work together,
when you are quite strong."

The girl consented gladly, but found herself conducted to the very lowest
part of Woolwich an^* ^ishered Into a brothel; there was no mother in the case.
She was hoaxed, and powerless to resist. Her protestations were too late to
save her, and having had her character forced from hei she became hopeless,
and stayed on to live the life of her false friend.

There is no need for me to go into the details of the way in which
men and women, whose whole livelihood depends upon their success
in disarming the suspicions of their victims and luring them to their
doom, contrive to overcome the reluctance of the young girl without
parents, friends, or helpers to enter their toils. What fraud fails to
accomplish, a little force succeeds in effecting; and a girl who has
been guilty of nothing but imprudence finds herself n outcast for
life.'

l)hc vffy. ioxiocance of a girl ti^lls against her. A woman ot
the wor^ once ' cntrapDcd, wouliJ have all her wits about her to

THE VICTIMS OF IGNORANT INNOCENCE'.

iS3

It was $geni,
»ctor up, and

by her god-
west part ol
ited by her
all the time

er till, at an
ore the birth
distant part
J sought an
tried to get
: starvation,
iris." Here
our Homes,
hly changed
ily.

llness. She
• her living,
e met a girl,
confidence,
id. "Well,
k together,

very lowest
in the case.
! too late to
le hopeless,

r in which
ir success
m to their
rl without
jd fails to
! who has
Litcast for

woman oi
Lit her to

, _ . — tneir mai 'en daughters, they are crushed beneath the mill-

extricate herself from the position in whicii she found herself. i/"A
perfectly virtuous girl is often so overcome with shame and horror
t.iat there seems nothing in life worth struggling for. She accepts
her doom without further struggle, and treads the long and torturing
path-way of " the streets " to the grave.

" Judge not, that ye be not judged " is a saying that applies most
appropriately of all to thesi unfortunates. Many of them would
have escaped their evil fate had they been less innocent. They are
where they are because they loved too utterly to calculate con-
sequences, and trusted too absolutely to dare to suspect evil. And
others are there because of the false education which confounds
ignorance with virtue, and throws our young people into the midst
of a great city, with all its excitements and all its temptations, with-
out more preparation or warning than if they were going to live in
the Garden of Eden.

Whatever sin they have committed, a terrible penalty is exacted.
While the man^jwho caused their ruin passes as a respectable
member of soaew, to '^^^ he

is rich
stone oT'^ocLi^l (e^j?,CQjtjiiiwjpi«at»oii.

Here let me quote from a report made to me by the head of our
Rescue Homes as to the actual life of these unfortiinates.

The following hundred cases are taken as they come from our Rescue
Register. The statements are those of the girls themselves. They are
certainly frank, and it will be noticed that only two out of the hundred allege
that they took to the life out of poverty : — '

Cause of Fall

Condition when Applying.

Rags ... ... ... 25

Destitution ... ,„ 27

Decently dressed ... 48

Total 100
Total 100

Out of these girls twenty-three have been m prison.

The giria suffer so much that the shortness of their njMi^rsible life is the ooly
redeeming feature. Whether we look at the wretchedness of the liJPfc itself; tlMSP"
lierpetual intexicatisn ; the cruel treatment to which they are subjected by their
tas1c..i«afiters and nisttMses er bullies ; the hopelessness, suffieniig «nd despair
iSiiuss^^ihsiLcijricuaitaACM «a4 surreuMlings ; tbe 41eptks>f misery^ de^ra-

Drink...

Seduction ...

Wilful choice ...

Bad company ...

Poverty

I I , iT i i<l i r- i ii i ii ij i ^j l ; iiiii ,^J 1_1.-?.— -^ ..-.U.- '!

wmm.

«4'

rrHE vicious:

dation and poverty to which: tlicy eventually descend; or their treatment in
sickness, their friendlessness and loneliness in death, it must be admitted that a
more dismal lot seldom faUs to the fate of a human being. I will take each ot
these in turn.

Health. — This life induces insanity, rheumatism, consumption, and all forms
of syphilis. Rheumatism and gout are the commonest of these evils. Some
were quite crippled by both — young though they were. Consumption sows its
seeds broadcast. The life is a hot-bed for the development of any constitutional
and hereditary germs of the disease. We have found girls in Piccadilly at mid-
night who are continually prostrated by haemorrhage, yet who have no other
way of life open, so struggle on in this awful manner between whiles.

Drink. — This is an inevitable part of the business. All confess that they
could never lead their miserable lives if it were not for its influence.

A girl, who was educated at college, and who had a home in which was every
comfort, but who, when ruined, had fallen even to the depth of Woolwich
" Dusthole," exclaimed to us indignantly — " Do you think I could ever, ever do
this if it weren't for the drink ? I always have to be in drink if I wani^to sin."
No girl has ever come into our Homes from steet-life but has been moTB or less
a prey to drink.

Cruel Treatment. — The devotion of these women to their bullies is as
remarkable as the brutality of their bullies is abominable. Probably the primary
cause of the fall of numberless girls of the lower class, is their great aspiration
to the dignity of wifehood ; — they are never " somebody " until they are married,
and will link themselves to any creature, no matter how debased, in the hope ot
being ultimately married by him. This consideration, in addition to their help-
less condition when once character has gone, makes them suffer cruelties
which they would never otherwise endure from the men with whom large
numbers of them live.

One case in illustration of this is that of a girl who was once a respectable
servant, the daughter of a police sergeant. She was ruined, and shame led her
to leave home. At length she drifted to Woolwich, where she came across a
man who persuaded her to hve with him, and for a considcrnbic length of time
she kept him, although his conduct to her was brutal in the exlreme.

The girl living in the next room to her has frequently heard him knock l-.cr
head against the wall, and pound W, when he was out of temper, through I>cr
gains of prostitution being less than usual. He lavisiied upon her every sort of
cruelty and abuse, and at length she grew so wretciied, and was reduced to
so dreadful a plight, that she ceased to attract. At this he became furious, and
pawned all her clothing but one thin garment of rags. .. The week befn--c her,
first confinement he kicked hei black and blue from neck to knees, and shy
was carried to the police station in a pool of blood, but she was so loval to
|||»«vr«tcb iMilith* rafuced to ap{)ear against him.

FROM WOOLWICH DUSTHOU.'

.-■I

Siic uus going to drown herself in desperation, when ourKescue OScefsspdke
to her, wrapped their own shawl around her shivering shoulders, took her home
with them, and cared for her. The baby was born dead — a tiny, shapeless mass^

This state of things is all too common.

Hopelessness— Surroundings. — The state of hopelessness and despair in
which these girls live continually, makes them reckless of consequences, and
large numbers commit suicide who are never heard of. A West End policeman
assured us that the number of prostitute-suicides was terribly in advance ol
anything guessed at by the public.

Depths to which they Sink. — There is scarcely a lower class of girls to be
found than the girls of Woolwich " Dusthole " — where one of our Rescue Slum
Homes is established. The women living and following their dreadful busi'
ness in this neighbourhood are so degraded that even abandoned men will
refuse to accompany them home. Soldiers are forbidden to enter the place, or
to go down the street, on pain of twenty-five days' imprisonment ; pickets are
stationed at either end to prevent this. The streets are much cleaner than many
of the rooms we have seen.

One public house there is shut up three or four times in a day sometimes for
fear of losing the licence through the terrible brawls which take place within.
A policeman never goes down this street alone at night — one having died not
long ago from injuries received there — but our two lasses go unharmed and
loved at all hours, spending every other night always upon the streets.

The girls sink to the " Dusthole" after coming down several grades. There is
but one on record who came tliere with beautiful clothes, and this poor girl,
when last seen by the officers, was a pauper in the workhouse infirmary in a
■vretched condition.

The lowest class of all is the girls ^vho stand at the pier-head — these sell
themselves literally for a bare crust of tread and t-ep in the streets.

Filth and vermin abound to an extent to which ao one who iias not seen it
can have any idea

The " Dusthole " is only one, alas of many similar districts in this highly
civilised land.

Sickness, Friendlessness — Death. — In hospitals it is a known fact that these
girls are not treated at all like other cases ; they inspire disgust, and arc most
frequently discharged before being really cured.

Scorned by their relations, and ashamed to make their case known even to
those who would help them, unable longer to struggle ou; on the streets to ean.
the bread of shame, there are girls lying in many a dark hole in this bi^ .itv
positively rotting away, and maintained by their old companions on the streets. '

Many are totally friendless, utterly cast out and left to perish by relatives and
frienda One of this class came to us, sickened and died, and we burled her,
being her only follower* to the jrave.

!3R

(Bi

THE VICIOUS.

l£ is a sad story, but one that must not be forgotten, for these
women constitute 5 large standing, army whose numbers no one can,
calculate. All estimates that I have seem purely imaginary. The
ordinary figure given for London is from 60,000 to 80,000. . This
may be, true if it is meant to include all habitually unchaste women.
It is a monstrous exaggeration if it is meant to apply to those who
make their living solely and habitually by prostitution. These figures,
however, only confus'^. We shall hav^ to deal with hundreds every
month, whatever estimate we take. How utterly unprepared society
js for any such systematic reformation may be seen from the fact
that even now at our Homes we are unable to take in all the girls
who apply They cannot escape, even if they would, for want of
funds whereby to provide them a way of release.

mu ^KCjant a«>-.jmw n i«ii a. . >— < '

CHAPTER VII.
T H E C R I M I N A L S.

One very important section of the denizens of Darkest England
are the criminals and the semi-criminals. They are more or less
predatory, and are at present shepherded by the police and punished
by the gaoler. Their numbers cannot be ascertained with very
great precision, hut the following figures are taken from the prison
returns of 1889:-^- -

The criminal classes of Great Britain, in round figures, sum up a
total of no less than 90,cxx) persons, made up as follows : —

Convict prisons contain ... ... ... 11,660 persons.

Local „ „ ... ... ... 20,883 •>

Retbrmatories for children convicted of crime

Industrial schools for vagrant and refractory children

Criminal lunatics under restraint

Known thieves at large

Known receivers of stolen goods ... ...

Suspected persons ...

1,270

21,413
910

14,747
1,121

17,042

Total 89,046

The above <ioes not include the great army of known prostitutes,
nor the keepers and owners of brothels and disorderly houses, as to
whose numbers Government is rigidly silent.

These figures are, however, misleading. They only represent the
ciiminils actually in gaol on n given day. The average gaol popula-
tion in England and Wales, excluding the convict establishments,
was, in 1889, 15,119, but the total number actually sentenced and
imprisoned in local prisons was I53,cxx>, of v.honi 2^,000 only. qnmt
on first term sentences ; 7€,^(X> of them had been convicted at least
10 times. But eveu if we suppose that the criminal class numberi|

JTHE ^criminals:

no more than 90,b6oJ%f:V^hom' only 35,000 person_s are at large, it is
still a large enough section of^humanity to compel attention. fe. 90,000
criminal^ represents a wreckage Whose cost to the" community' is very
imperfectly estimated ' when we add up the cost of the prisons, even
if we "add to them the whole cost of the police. The police have so
many other duties besides the shepherding of criminals that it is
unfair to saddle the latter with the whole of the cost of the constabu-
lary. : The cost of prosecution and maintenance of criminals; and
the expense of the police involves an annual outlay of ;^4,437,ooo.
This, however, is small compared with the tax and toll which this
predatory horde inflicts upon the community on which it is quartered.
To the loss caused by the actual picking and stealing must be added
that of the unproductive labour of nearly 65,000 adults. Dependent
upon these criminal adults must be at least twice as many women
and children, so that it is probably an under-estimate to say that this
list of criminals and semi-criminals rejpresents a population of at least
200,000, who all live more or less at the expense of society.

Every year, in the Metropolitan district alone, 66,100 persons are
arrested, of whom 444 are arrested for trying to commit suicide — life
having become too unbearable a burden. This immense population
is partially, no doubt, bred to prison, the same as other people are
bred to the army and to the bar. The hereditary criminal is by no
means confined to India, although it is only in that country that they
have the engaging simplicity to describe themselves frankly in
the census returns. But it is recruited constantly from the outside.
In many cases this is due to sheer starvation. Fathers of the Church
have laid down the law that a man who is in peril of death from
hunger is entitled to take bread wherever he can find it to keep body
and soul together. That proposition is not embodied in our
jurisprudence. Absolute despair drives many a man into the
ranks of the criminal class, who would never have fallen into the
category of criminal convicts if adequate provision had J)een made for
the rescue of those drifting to doom. Wlen once he hds fallen, circum-
stances seem to combine to keep him there. As wounded and sickly stags
are gored to death by their fellows, so the unfortunate who bears the
pu'ison brand is hunted from pillar to post, until he despairs of ever
regaining his position, and osuUates between one prison and another
fur th«^ce9t of his days. I gave in a prec$:ding pager an account of
Imw a man, after trying in vain to get work, fell before the temptation
lo^8icaJiin'Ord€r-.io_(escapc starvation.^ Hc>j;J5.,th^

GAOL BIRD'S TALE.

t large, it is
9n.i^^90,ooo
inity' is very
risons, even
(lice have so
Is that it is
le constabu-
iminals; and
A,437,ocx).
11 which this
is quartered,
ist be added
Dependent
nany women
say that this
on of at least
ety.

1 persons are
suicide — life
56 population
ir people are
linal is by no
itry that they
5 frankly in
1 the outside.
)f the Church
)f death from
to keep body
died in our
lan into the
Hen into the
jeen made for
alien, circum-
id sickly stags
vho bears the
spairs of ever
1 and another
an account of
he temptation

man's story. .J After^he had stolen he ran away, and; thus describes
his experiences : —

" To fly was easy. To get away from the scene required very little" ingenuity;
but the getting away from one suffering brought another. A straight look from
a stranger, a quick step behind me, sent a chili through every nerve. The
cravings of hunger had been satisfied, but it was the cravings of conscience that
were clamorous now. It was easy to get away from the earthly consequences of
sin, but from the fact — never. And yet it was the compulsion of circumstances
that made me a criminal. It was neither from inward viciousness or choice, and
how bitterly did I cast reproach on society for allowing such an alternative to
offer 'itself — *to Steal or Starve,' but there was another alternative that here
offered itself— either give myself up, or go on with the life of crime. I chose the
foriner, I had travelled over loo miles to get away from the scene of my theft,
and I now find myself outside the station house at a place where I had put in
my boyhood days.

" How many times when a lad, with wondering eyes, and a heart stirred
with childhood's pure sympathy, I had watched the poor waifs from time to
time led within its doors. It vas my turn now. I entered the charge
roonv and with business-like precision disclosed my errand, viz. : that I wished
to surrender myself for having committed a felony. My ^'*ury was doubted.
Question followed question, and confirmati(;n kiiust '^' waited. 'Why had I
surrendered ? ' 'I was a rum *un.' • Cracked.' • More foo! than rogue.' ' He
will be sorry when he mounts the wheel.' These and such like remarks, were
handed round concerning me. An hour passed by. An inspector enters, and
announces the receipt of a telegram. ' It is all right. You can put him down.
And turning to me, he said, ' They will send for you on Monday,' and then I
passed into the inner ward, and a c^tl. The door closed with a harsh, grating
clang, and I was left to face tha most clamorous accuser of all — my own interior
self.

" Monday morning, the door opened, and a compiacent detective stood
before me. Who can tell the feeling as the handcuffs closed round my wrists,
and we started for town. As again the charge was entered, and the passing of
another night in the cell ; then the morning of tAe day arrived. The gruff, harsh
' Come on ' of the gaoler roused me, and the next moment I found myself in the
prison van, gazing through the crevices of the floor, watching the stones flying
as it were from beneath our feet. Soon the court-house was reached, and
hustled into a common ceil, I found myself amongst a crowd of boys and men,
all bound for the 'dock.' One by one the names are called, and the.crowd is
gradually thinning down, when th^ announcement of my own name fell on my
startled ear, and I found myself stumbling up the stairs, and finding myself in
daylight and the ^dock.' What a terrible ordeal. iLwiw-^Xhcxcremony^waa

■7

brief enough; 'Have you anything to say?' 'Dont interrupt his Worship
prisoner 1 '/• Give over tallying !' 'A month's hard labour.' This is about all I
heard, or at any rate realised, until a vigorous push landed me into, the presence
of the officer who booked the sentence, and then off I went to gaol. I need
not linger over the formalities of the reception. ' A nightmare seemed to have
settled upon me as I passed into the interior of the correctional.

"Iresignefl my name, and I seemed to die to myself for henceforth. A31B
disclosed my identity to myself and others.

" Through all the weeks that followed I was like one in a dream. Meal times,
resting hours, as did every other thing, came with clock-like precision. At times
I thought my mind had gone — so dull, so callous, so weary appeared the organs
of the brain. The harsh orders of the gaolers ; the droning of the chaplain in
the chapel ; the enquiries of the chief warder or the governor in their periodical
visits, — all seemed so meaningless.

" As the day of my liberation drew near, the horrid conviction that circum-
stances would perhaps compel me to return to prison haunted me, and so
helpless did I feel at the. prospects that awaited me outside, that I dreaded
release, which seemed but the facing of an unsympathetic world. Tlw day
arrived, and, strange as it may sound, it was with regret that I left my cell. It
had become my home, and no home waited me outside.

" How utterly crushed I felt ; feelings of companionship had gone out to my
unfortunate fellow-prisoners, whom I had seen daily, but the sound of whose
voices I had never heard, whilst outside friendships were dead, and companion-
ships were for ever broken, and I felt as an outcast of society, with the mark ol
'gaol bird' upon me, that I must cover mv face, and stand aside and cry
' unclean.' Such were my feelings.

" The morning of discharge came, and I am once .lore on the streets. My
scanty means scarcely sufRcicnt for two days' least needs. Could I brace myself
to make another honest endeavour to start afresh ? Try, indeed, I did. I fell
back upon my antecedents, and tried to cut the dark passage out of my life, but
straight came the questions to me Pt cuch application for employment, ' What
have you been doing lately ? ' ' Where have you been living ? ' If I evaded
the question it caused doubt ; if I answered, the only answer I could give was
• in gaol,' and that settled my chon'^ef^.

'* What, a comedy, alter all, it appeared. I remember the last words of the
chaplain before leaving the prison, cold and precise in their officialism : ' Mind
you never come back here again, young man.' And now, as though in response
to my earnest effort to keep froni going t^ prison, society, by its actions, cried
out, * Go back to gaol. There are honest men enough to do our work without
such as you.*

^ " Imagine, if you can, my condition. At the end of a few days, black despair
had wraot itself around even* facultv of mind and body. Then followed several

■ f

HELP FOR THE DISCHARGED PRISONER.

his Worship
IS about all I
the presence
5aol. I need
;med to have

forth. %y^B

Meal times,
on. At times
5d the organs
e chaplain in
leir periodical

that circum-
l me, and so
lat I dreaded
•Id. Tlie day
t my cell. It

ne out to my
Lind of whose
d companion-
the mark ot
iside and cry

days and nights with scarcely a bit of food or a resting-place. I prowle'i the
streets like a dog, with this difference, that the dog has the chance of helping
himself, and I had not. I tried to forecast how long starvation's fingr rs would
be in closing round the throat they already t,Jpped. So indifferent was I alike'
to man or God, as I waited for the end."

In this dire extremity the writer found his way to one of ourj
Shelters, and there found God and friends and hope, and once more
got his feet on to the ladder which leads upward from the black
gulf of starvation to competence and character, and usefulness and
heaven.

As he was then, however, there are hundreds — nay, thousands —
now. Who will give these men a helping hand? .What is to be
done with them ? Wou Id it not be more merciful to kill them off
at once instead of sternly crushing them out of all semblance of
honest manhood ? Society recoils from such a short cut. Her
virtuous scruples reminds me of the subterfuge by which English
law evaded the veto on torture. • Torture was forbidden, but the
custom of placing an obstinate witness under a press and slowly
crushing him within a hairbreadth of death was legalised and
practised. So it is to-day. When the criminal comes out of gaol
the whole world is often but a press whose punishment is sharp and
cruel indeed. Nor can the victim escape even '<" he opens his mouth,
and speaks.

streets. My

brace myself

I did. I fell

jf my life, but

yment, ' What

If I evaded

)uld give was

words of the

ilism ; 'Mind

;h in respdnse

actions, cried

work without

black despair
llowed several

•fMP*M»M<i»«>*P*

CHAPTER VIII.

THE CHILDREN OF THE LOST.

Whatever may be thought of the possibility of doing anything
with the adults, it is universally admitted that there is hope for the'
children. " I regard the existing generation as lost," said a leading
Liberal statesman. " Nothing can be done with men and women
who have grown up under the present demoralising conditions. My
only hope is that the children may have a better chance. Education
will do much." But unfortunately the demoralising circumstances of
the children are not being improved — are, indeed, rather, in many
respects, being made worse. The deterioration of our population in
large towns is one of the most undisputed facts of social economics.
The country is the breeding ground of healthy citizens. | But for
the constant influx of Countrydom, Cockneydom would ^ long
ere this have perished. But unfortunately the country is being
depc'pulated. The towns, London especially, are being gorged with
undigested and indigestible masses of, labour, and, as the result, the
children suffer grievously.

The town-bred child is at a thousand disadvantages compared with
his cousin in the country. But every year there are more town-bred
children and fewer cousins in the country. To rear healthy children
you want first a home ; secondly, milk ; thirdly, fresh air ; and
fourthly, exercise under the green trees and blue sky. All these
things every country labourer's child possesses, or used to possess.
For the shadow of the City life lies now upon the fields, and even »in
the remotest rural district the labourer who tends the cows is often
denied the milk which his children need. The regular demand of
the great towns forestalls the claims of the labouring hind, .j, Tea and-
slops and beer take the place of milk, and the bone and sinew of the
next generation are sapped from the cradle.;4B"t the country^chUdl

f anything
pe for the'
i a leading
nd women
tions. My

Education
nstances of
jr, in many
pulation in
economics.
But for
ould i^long
•y is being
orged with

result, the

ipared with
town-bred
ly children
air ; and
All these
:o possess,
nd even on
vs is often
demand of
Tea and-
new of the
intryjfhildl

SCHOOLEDr NOTfEDUCATED.

■ft-^

it he has nothing but skim milk, and only a little of that, has at least
plenty of exercise in the fresh air. ; He has healthy human rela-
tions with his neighbours.' He is looked after, and in some sort ol
fashion brought into contact with the life of the hall, the vicarage;
and the farm. He lives a natural life amid the birds and trees and
growing crops and the animals of the fields. He is not a mere
human ant, crawling on the granite pavement of a great urban ants'
nest, with' an unnaturally developed nervous system and a sickly
constitution. :

But, it will be said, the child of to-day has the inestimable
advantage of Education. •■ No ; he has not. Educated the children
are not. They are pressed through " standards," which exact a
certain acquaintance with ABC and pothooks and figures, but
educated they are not in the sense of the development of their
latent capacities so as to make them capable for the discharge of
their duties in life. The new generation can read, no doubt.
Otherwise, where would be the sale of " Sixteen String Jack,"
" Dick Turpin," and the like ? But take the girls. Who can
pretend that the girls whom our schools are now turning out are
half as well educated for the work of life as their grandmothers
were at the same age ? How many of all these mothers of the
future know how to bake a loaf or wash their clothes ? Except
minding the baby — a task that cannot be evaded — what domestic
training have they received to qualify them for beiner in the future
the mothers of babies themselves ? •

And ever} the schooling, such as it if, at what an expense is it
often imparted I The rakings of the human cesspool are brought
into the school-room and mixed up \vith your children. Your little
ones, who never heard a foul word and who are not only innocent,
but ignorant, of all the horrors of vice and sin, sit for hours side by
side with little ones whose parents are habitually drunk, and
play with others whose ideas of merriment are gained from tlu.'
familiar spectacle of the nightly ♦debauch by which their mothers
earn the family bread. It is good, no doubt, to learn the
ABC, but it is not so good that in acquiring these indispensable
rudiments, your children should also acquire the vocabulary of the
I harlot and the corner boy. I speak only of vvh.it I know, and of
that which has been brought home to me as a matter of repeated
complaint by my Oflicers, when 1 say that the obscenity of the'.talk
of many of the children of. some of^ur public schools could Juacilly

»■■

THE CHILDREN OF THE LOST.

i) ii

be outdone even in Sodom and Gomorrha. Childish innocence is
V|5ry beautiful ; but the bloom is soon destroyed and it is a cruel
awakening for a mother to discover that her tenderly nurtured boy,
or her carefully guarded daughter, has been initiated by a companion
into the mysteries of abomination that are concealed in the phrase —
a house of ill-fame.

The home is largely destroyed where the mother follows the
father into the factory, and where the hours of labour are so long
that they have no time to see their children. The omnibus drivers
of London, for instance, what time have they for discharging the daily
duties of parentage to their little ones ? How can a man who is on his
omnibus from fourteen to sixteen hours a day have time to be a father
to his children in any sense of the word ? He has hardly a chance
to see them except when they are asleep. Even the Sabbath, that
blessed institution which is one of the sheet anchors of human exist-
en:e, is encroached upon. Many of the new industries which
have been started or developed since I was a boy ignore man's
wed of one day's rest in seven. The railway, the post-office, the
tramway all compel some of their employes to be content with less
than the divinely appointed minimum of leisure. In the country
darkness restores the labouring father to his little ones. In the
town gas and the electric light enables the employer to rob the
children of the whole of their father's waking hours, and in some
cases he takes the mother's also. Under some of the conditions of
modern industry, children are not so much born into a home as
they are spawned into the world like fish, with the results which
we see.

The decline of natural affection follows inevitably from the sub-
stitution of the fish relationship for that of the human. A father
who never dandles his child on his knee cannot have a very keen
sense of the responsibilities of paternity. Iri the rush and pressure
of our competitive City life, thousands of men have not time, to be
fpthers. SircSj yes ; fathers, no. It will take a good deal of School-
master to make up for that change. If this be the case, even with
the children constantly employed, it can be imagined what kind of a
home, life is possessed by the children of the tramp, the odd ■jobber,
theitbief, and" .the ? harlot. For all these people have childrcjn,
although they* liavc no homes in which to rear them. ;■ Not a bird in
nil tTic woods or fields but prepares some kind of a nest in which to I
iiatch and rear its young, even if it be. but a-hale in the sand. Dr. 8

THE CURSE UPON THE CRADLE.

noccncc is
t is a cruel
rtured boy,
companion
e phrase —

bllows the
are so long
bus drivers
ng the daily
'ho is on his
) be a father
lly a chance
abbath, that
uman exist-
itries which
jnore man's
ist-office, the
ent with less
the country
les. In the
to rob the
and in some
conditions of
a home as
-esults which

om the sub-
A father
a very keen
and pressure
time, to be
eal of school-
se, even with
hat kind of a
e odd •jobber,
we childre^l,
Not a bird in
it in which to I
he sand, dls'

few crossed sticks in the bush. But how many young ones amongst
our people arc hatched before any nest is ready to receive them ?

Think of the multitudes of children born in our workhouses,
children of whom it may be said " they are conceived in sin and
shapen in iniquity," and, as a punishment of the sins of the parents,
branded from birth as bastards, worse than fatherless, homeless, and
friendless, " damned into an evil world," in which even those who
have all the advantages of a good parentage and a careful training
find it hard enough to make their way. Sometimes, it is true,
the passionate love of the deserted mother for the child which has
been the visible symbol and the terrible result of her undoing
stands between the little one and all its enemies. But think how
often the mother regards the advent of her child with loathing and
horror ; how the discovery that she is about to become a mother
aftects her like a nightmare ; and how nothing but the dread of the
hangman's rope keeps her from strangling the babe on the very hour
01 its birth. What chances has such a child ? And there are many such.

In a certain country that I will not name there exists a scienti-
fically arranged system of infanticide cloaked under the garb of philan-
thropy. Gigantic foundling establishments exist in its principal cities,
where every comfort and scientific improvement is provided for the
deserted children, with the result that one-half of them die. The mothers
are spared the crime. The State assumes the responsibility. We do
something like that here, but our foundling asylums are the Street, the
vvoikhouse, and the Grave. When an English Judge tells us, as
Mr. Justice Wills did the other day, that there were any number of
parents who would kill their children for a few pounds' insurance
money, we can form* some idea of the horrors of the existence into
which many of the children of th'is highly favoured land are ushered
at their birth.

The overcrowded homes" of the poor compel the children to witness
everything. Sexual morality often comes to have no meaning to them.
Incest is so familiar as hardly to call for remark. The bitter poverty
of the poor compels them to leave their children half fed. There are few
more grotesque pictures in the history of civilisation than that of the com-
pulsory attendance of children at school, faint with hunger because they
had no breakfast, and not sure whether they would even secure a
dry criist for dinner when their morning's quantum of education had
been duly imparted. Children thus hungered, thus housed, and thus
l6ft to grow up as best they can without being fathered or mothered,

SSSBBSSRSI

THE CHILDREN OF THE

LOST.

are not, educate them as you vvill, exactly the ir.o^t prtmiaing
material for the making cf the Aiture citizens khd ^rulers of the
Empire.

What, then, is the ground for hope that if we leave things alone the
new generation will be better than their elders ? To me it seems
that the truth is rather the other way. The lawlessness of our lads,
ilie increased license of our girls, the general shiftlessness from the
home-making point of view of the product of our factories and schools
are far from reassuring. Our young people have never learned to
obey. The fighting gangs of half-grown lads in Lisson Grove, and
the scuttlers of Manchester are ugly symptoms of a social condition
that will not grov/ better by being left alone.

It is the home that has been destroyed, and with the home the
home-like virtues. It is the dis-homed multitude, nomadic, hungry,
thai is rearing an undisciplined population, cursed from birth with
hereditary weakness of body and hereditary faults of character.
It is idle to hope to mend matters by taking the children and
bundling them up in barracks. A child brought up in an institution
is too often only half-human, having never known a mother's love
and a father's care. To men and women who are without homes,
children must be more or less of an incumbrance. Their advent
is regarded with impatience, and often it is averted by crime. The
unwelcome little stranger is badly cared for, badly fed, and allowed
every chance to die. Nothing is worth doing to increase his
chances of living that does not Reconstitute the Home. But between
us and that ideal how vast is the gulf! It will have to be bridged,
however, if anything practical is to be donei

prbmiaing
era oF the

^ alone the
jie it seems
af our lads,
IS from the
and schools
• le.'irned to
Grove, and
al condition

e home the
die, hungry,
n birth with
f character,
hildren and
,n institution
[Other's love
hout homes.
Their advent
crime. The
and allowed
increase his
But between
> be bridged,

1 I v

, CHAPTER IX. : "

IS THERE NO HELP?

It may be said by those who have followed me to this point that
while it is quite true that there are many who are out of work, ana
not less true that there are many who sleep on the Embankment and
elsewhere, the lav/ has provided a remedy, or if not a remedy,
at least a method, of dealing with these sufferers which is sufficient.
The Secretary of the Charity Organisation Society assured one of
my Officers, who went to inquire for his opinion en the subject,
" that no further machinery was necessary. All that war. needed in
this direction they already h d in vrorking order, and to create
any further machinery \\ouId do more harm than good."

Now, v/hat is the existing machinery by which Society, whether
through the organisation of the State, or by individual endeavour,
attempts to deal with the submerged residuum ? I had intended at
one time to have devoted considerable space to the description of the
existing agencies, together v/ith certain observations which have
been forcibly impressed upon my mind as to their failure and its
cause. The necessity, however, of subordinating everything to the
supreme purpose of this book, which is to endeavour to show how
light can be let into the hearc of Darkest England, compels me to
pass rapidly over this department of the subject, merely glancing as
I go at the well-meaning, but more or less abortive, attempts to cope
with this great and appalling evil

- The first place must naturally be giv6n to the administration of
t.'i :. Pcor Law. Legally the State accepts the responsibility of
providing food and shelter for every man, woman, or child who is
tittcrly destitute. This jresponsibility it, however, practically shirks
by the imf)nr>iHon cf ct^clitions on the claimants of relief that are
Iituciul aiici repulsive, if not impossible. As to the method of Poor

IS THERE NO HELP?

■n

Law adunhiistriatidir in dealing with inmates of woi'kh&useft^ or in fltot
distribution of outdoor relief, I say nothing. Both of these raise
great questions which lie outside my immediate purpose. All that
I need to do is to indicate the limitations — it may be the necessary
limitations — under which the Poor Law operates. No Englishman can
come upon the rates so long as he has anything whatever left to call
his own. When long-continued destitution has been carried on to the
bitter end, when piece by piece every article of domestic furniture has
been sold or pawned, when all efforts to procure employment have
failed, and when you have nothing left except the clothes in which you
stand, then you can present yourself before the relieving officer and
secure your lodging in the workhouse, the administration of which
variesgnfinitely according to the disposition of the Board of Guardians
under, whose control it happens to be.

If, however, you have not sunk to such despair as to be willing to
barter your liberty for the sake of food, clothing, and shelter in
the Workhouse, but are only temporarily out of employment,
seeking work, then you go to the Casual Ward. There you are
taken in, and. provided for on the principle of making it as dis-
agreeable as possible for yourself, in order to deter you from
again accepting the hospitality of the rates, — and of course in
defence of this a good deal can be said by the Political £conom<st.
But what seems utterly indefensible is the careful precautions which
are taken to render it impossible for the unemployed Casual to
resume promptly after his night's rest the search for work. Under
the existing regulations, if you are compelled to seek refuge on
Monday night in the Casual Ward, you are bound to remain there
at least till Wednesday morning.

The theory of the system is this, that individuals casually poor
and out of work, being desUtute and without shelter, may upon
application receive shelter for the night, supper and a breakfast, and
in return for this, shall perform a task of work, not necessarily in
repayment for the relief received, but simply as a test of their
'villingness to work for their living. The work given is the same as
that given to felons in gaol, oakum-picking and stone-breaking.

The work, too, is excessive in proportion to what is received.
Four pounds of oakum is a great task to an expert and an
old hand. To a novice it can only be accomplished with the
grSatcst difficulty, if indeed it can be done at all. h is even
l^'^j^iiess ot iU^ amount demanded from a cnmiiwU in ^ol.

J1t^ CASyiAU WAR^.^

•w^

■■'j ? i; ! > L

Mr in Mtt

ise raise
All that
Lecessary
iman can
;ft to call

on to the
liture has
lent have
vhich you
>fBcer and

of which
Guardians

willing to
shelter in
iployment,
e you are
it as dis-
you from
course in
Econom'st.
ions which
Casual to
k. Under
refuge on
main there

sually poor
may upon
lakfast, and
cessarily in
St of their
he same as
aking.
is received,
irt and an
1 with the
It is even
L in gaol.

The stone-breaking' test is monstrous. Half a ton of stone from j^j\y
man in return for partially supplying the cravings of hunger is an
outrage which, if we read of as having occurred in Russia or Siberia,
would find Exeter Hall crowded with an indignant audience, and
Hyde Park filled with strong oratory. But because this system
exists at our own doors, very little notice is taken of it. These
tasks are expected from all comers, starved, ill-clad, half-fed
creatures from the streets, foot-sore and worn out, and yet unless it
is done, the alternative is the magistrate and the gaol. The old
system was bad enough, which demanded the picking of one pound
of oakum. As soon as this task was accomplished, which generally
kept them till the middle of next day, it was thus rendered im-
possible for them to seek work, and they were forced to spend
another night in the ward. The Local Government Board, however,
stepped in, and the Casual was ordered to be detained for the whole
day and the second night, the amount of labour required from him
being increased four-fold.

Under the present system, therefore, the penalty for seeking^helter
from the streets is a whole day and two nights, with an almost
impossible task, which, failing to do, the victim is liable to be dragged
before a magistrate and committed to gaol as a rogue and vagabond,
while in the Casual "Ward their treatment is practically that of a
criminal. They sleep in a cell with an apartment at the back, in
which th6 work is done, receiving at night half a pound of gruel and
eight ounces of bread, and next morning the same for breakfast, with
half a pound of oakum and stones to occupy himself for a day.

The beds are mostly of thv p!ank type, the coverings scant, the
comfort «i7., . Be it remembered that this is the treatment meted
out to those who are supposed to be Casual poor, in temporary
difficulty, walking from place to place seeking some employment.

The treatment of the women is as follows : Each Casual has to
stay in the Casual Wards two nights and one day, during which
time they have to pick 2 lb. of oakum or go to the wash-tub and
work out the time there. While at the wash-tub they are allowed
to wash their own clothes, but not otherwise. If seen more than
once in the same Casual Ward, they are detained three days by
ordeir of the inspector each time seen, or if sleeping twice in the
same month the master of the ward has power to detain them three
days. There are four inspectors who visit different Casual Ward* j
and if^thc Casual is seen by any of the inspectors ^wbo in turn^>dsit

IS THERE NO HELP?

all the Casual Wards) at any of the wards they have previously
visited they are detained three days in each one. • The inspector,
who is a male person, visits the wards at ^11 unexpected hours, even
visiting while the females are in bed. The beds are in some wards
composed of straw and two rugs, in others cocoanut fibre and two
rugs. The Casuals rise at 5.45 a.m. and go to bed 7 p.m. '^- If they
do not finish picking their oakum before 7 p.m., they stay up till
they do. If a Casual does not come to the ward before 12.30,
midnight, they keep them one day extra. The way in which this
operates, however, can be best understood by the following state-
ments, made by those who have been in Casual Wards, and who
can, therefore, speak from experience as to how the system affects
the individual :—

J. C. knows Casral Wards pretty well. Has been in St. Giles, White-
chapel, St. George s, Paddington, Marylebone, Mile End. They vary a little
in detail, but as a rule the doors open at 6 , you walk in , they tell you what
the work is, and that if you fail to do it, you will be liable to imprisonment.
Then you bathe. Some places the water is dirty. Three persons as a rule
wash in one water At Whitechapel (been there three times) it has always
been dirty; also at St Georges. I had no bath at Mile End; they were short
ot water If you complain they take no notice You then tie your clothes m
a buiiule, and they give you a nightshirt At most places they servo supper to
the men, who have to go to bed and cat it there. Some beds arc in cells; some
in large rooms. You get up at u a.m. and do the tabk. The amount of stonc-
breaking is too much ; and the oakiim-picking is atsu heavy. The food differs.
At St. Giles, the gruel left over-night is boiled up for breakfast, and is conse-
quently sour , the bread is puffy, full of holes, and don't weigh the regulation
amount. Dinner is only 8 ounces of bread and i^ ounce of cheese, and if
that's short, how can anybody do their work ? They will give you water to drinlc
if you ring the cell bell for it, that is, they will tell you to -vait, and bring it
in about hah an hour. There are a good lot of " moochers ' go to Casual Wards,
bu* there are large niiraberd of men w'lo only want work.

J. D , age 25, Londoner; cant gel work, trird hard; been refused work
several times on account of having no settled residence; looks suspicious, they
think, to have " no home. ' Seems a decent, willing man. Had two penny-
worth 01 soup this morning, which has lasted all day. Earned is. 6d. yesterday,
bill distributing, nothing the day before Been m good many London Casual
Wards. ThmKS they are no good, because they keep him all day, when he migiit
be seeking work Don't want shelter in day time, wants work. If he goes in twice
in a month to the same Casual W ard, they detain \um lour days. Considers the
food decidedly insufficient to do the rccjuircd amount of work. If the work is

THE EXPERIENCES OF CASUALS.

eviously
ispcctor,
irs, even
le wards
and two
-If they
ly up till
re 12.30,
hich this
ng statc-
and who
:m affects

es, White-
ary a little
il you what
prisonmcnt.
s as a rule
has always
t were short
r clothes in
p supper to
cells; some
It of stonc-
ood differs,
lid is consc-
e regulation
2cse, and il
iter to drink
and bring it
sual Wards,

fused work
)icious, they
two penny-
J. yesterday,
ndon Casual
len he miglit
goes in twice
lonsidcrs the
f the work is

not done to time, you are liable to 21 days' imprisonment. Get badly treated
some places, especially where there is a bullying superintendent. Has done 21
days for absolutely refusing to do the work on siuch low diet, when unfit. Can't
get justice, doctor always sides with superintendent.

J. S. ; odd jobber. Is working at board carrying, when he can get It. There's
quite a rush for it at is. 2d. a day. Carried a couple of parcels yesterday, got
5d. for them j also had a bit of bread and meat given him by a working man, so
altogether had an excellent day. Sometimes goes all day without food, ard
plenty more do the same. Sleeps on Embankment, and now and then in Casual
Ward. Latter is clean and comfortable enough, but they keep you in all d-y ;
that means no chance of getting work. Was a clerk once, but got out of a job,
snd couldn't get another ; there are so many clerks.

" A Tramp " says : " I've been in most Casual Wards in London ; was in the
one in Macklin Street, Drury Lane, last week. They keep you two nights and
a day, and more than that if they recognise you. You have to break 10 cwt. of
stone, or pick four pounds of oakum. Both are hard. About thirty a night go
to Macklin Street. The food is I pint gruel and 6 oz. bread for breakfast ; 8 oz.
bread and i J oz. cheese for dinner; tea same as breakfast. No supper. It is
not enough to do the work on. Then you are obliged to bathe, of course ;
rnmetimes three will bathe in one water, and if you complain they turn nasty,
and ask if you are come to a palace. Mitcham Workhouse I've beert in ; grub
is good ; i\ pint gruel and 8 oz. bread for breakfast, and same for supper.

F K. W. ; baker. Been board-carrying to-day, earned one shilling, hours
9 till 5. I've been on this kind of life six years. Used to work in a bakery,
but had congestion of the brain, and couldn't stand the heat. I've been in about
every Casual Ward in England. They treat men too harshly. Have to worl:
very hard, too. Has had to work whilst really unfit. At Peckham (known as
Camberwell) Union, was quite unable to do it through weakness, and appealed
to the doctor, who, tal "ng the part of the other cTicials, as usual, refused to
allow him to forego the work. Cheeked the doctor, telling him he didn't under-
stand his work ; result, got three days* imprisonment. Before going to a Casual
Ward at all, I spent seven consecutive nights on the Embankment and at last
went to the Ward.

The result of the deliberate policy of making the night refuge
for the unemployed labourer as disagreeable as possible, and of
placihg as many obstacles as possible in the >vay of his finding work
the following day, is, no doubt, to minimise the number of Casuals,
and without question succeeds. In the whole of London the number
of Casuals in the wards at night '~. only 1,136. *That is to
say, the conditions which are imposed are so severe, that the
majority of th^ Qu;-pf-Works prefer tp sleep ia the open air, taking

„ I

-■:■(■

:i:ll

I8TTHERETNOTHELP f

their diSWSb^iS!' the' inclemency and mutability of our Eiiglish
weathcrjf «'ith'(^ than go through the experience of the Casual Ward.

It seems td rrie that such a mode of coping with distress does not
so much meet tlie difficulty as evade it. It is obvious that an
apparatus, wliich only provides for 1,136 persons per night, is
utterly unable to deal with the numbers of the homeless Out-of- Works.
Hut if by some miracle we could use the Casual Wards as a means
of providing for all those who are seeking w- a. from day to day,
without a place in which to lay their heads, save the kerbstone of the
pavement or the back of a sc"./ on the Embankment, they would utterly
fail to have any apprec'ible effect upon the mass of human misery
with which we have to deal. For this reason ; the administration
of the Casual Wards is mechanical, perfunctory, and formal. Each of
the Casuals is to the Officer in Charge merely one Casual the more.
There is no attempt whatever to do more than provide for them
merely the indispensable requisites of existence. There has never
been any attempt to treat them as human beings, to deal with
them as individuals, to appeal to their hearts, to help them on
their legs again. They are simply units, no more thought of
and cared for than if they were so many coffee beans passing
through a coffee mill ; and as the net result of all my experience
and observation of men and things, I must assert unhesitatingly
that anything which dehumanises the individual, anj^thing which
treats a man as if he were only a number of a series or a cog
in a wheel, without any regard to the character, the aspirations,
the temptations, and the idiosynrrasics of the man, must utterly
fail as a remedial agency. \The Casual Ward, at the best, is merely
a squalid resting place lor the Casual in his downward career. If
anything "^is to- be done for these men, it must be aone by other
agents than those wh'ch prevail in the administration of the Poor
Lawa.

The second method in which Society endeavours to do its duty to
the lapsed masses is by the miscellanftous and heterogeneous efforts
which arc clubbed together under the generic head of Charity. Far
be it from me to say one word in disparagement of any effort that
is prompted by a sincere desire to alleviate the misery of our fellow
creatures, but the most charitable are those who most deplore, the
utter failure which has, up till now, attended all their efforts to do
more than temporarily alleviate pain, or effect ai> ocfcasion^I Jm-
|)r6vem€nt in the condition pf inUjvidutkir

ijQHAaTIC CHARITY.

There are many institutions,^ very excellent in their way; without
which it is difficult to se6 how society could get on at all. but when they
have done their best there still remains this great and appalling mass of
human misery on our hand^, a perfect quagmire, of Human Sludge
They may ladle out individuals here and there, but to drain the whole
bpgis an effort which seems to be beyond the imagination of most of
those who spend their lives in philanthropic work. It is no doubt better
than nothing to take the individual and feed v him from day today, to
bandage up his wounds and heal his diseases ; but you may go on
doing that for ever, if you do not do more than that : and the worst
of it is that all authorities agree that if you only do that you will
probably increase the evil with which you are attempting to deal,
and that you had much better let the whole thing alone-
There is at present no attempt at Concerted Action. ?^ Each one
deals with the case immediately before him, and the result is what
might be expected ; there is a great expenditure, but the gains are,
alas ! very small. The fact, however, that so much is subscribed for
the temporary relief and the mere alleviation of distress justifies my
confidence that if a Practical Scheme of dealing with this misery in a
permanent, comprehensive fashion be discovered, there will be no lack
of the sinews of war. It is well, no doubt, sometimes to administer
an anaesthetic, but the Cure of the Patient is worth ever so much
more, and the latter is the object which we must constantly set
before us in approaching this problem.

The third method by which Society professes to attempt the re-
clamation of the lost is by the rough, rude surgery of the Gaol.
Upon this a whole treatise might be written, but when it was
finished it would be nothing more than a demonstration that our
Prison system has practically missed aiming at that which should be
the first essential of every system of punishment. It is not Refor-
matory, it is not worked as if it were intended to be Reformatory. It
is punitive, and only punitive. The whole administration needs to be
reformed from top to bottom in accordance with this fundamental prin-
ciple, viz., that while every prisoner should be su bjected t o t hat
me«»tire"pX'pBHisTiment which shall mark a due ^sense~6f \i!s"c'rTme
both to himself and society, the main object should be to rouse in nis
mintrtfie desire to teadafftibnestltf^raftrtT^iT^^ in

his Hispbsition and character which will send him forth to' fttt
tifiikt desirte' into practice. At present, every Prisbti^^ vaixt
pr.' less a Training School for Crime, anuhitrodudtion. toitliie

IS THERE NO^HELPf

*rwi"i

society of criminals, the petrifaction of any lingering human
feeling and a very Bastille of Despair. The prison brand
is stamped upon those who go in, and that so deeply, that
it seems as if it clung to them for life. To enter Prison once,
means in many cases an almost certain return there at an early
date. All this has to be changed, and will be, when once the
work of Prison Reform is taken in hand by men who understand
the subject, who believe in the reformation of human nature in every
form which its depravity can assume, and who are in full sympathy
with the class for whose bent-fit they labour ; and when those
charged directly with the care of criminals seek to work out their
regeneration in the same spirit.

The question of Prison Reform is all the more important because it
is only by the agency of the Gaol that Society attempts to deal with
its hopeless cases. If a woman, driven mad with shame, flings
herself into the river, and is fished out alive, we clap her into Prison
on a charge of attempted suicide. If a man> despairing of work and
gaunt with hunger, helps himself to food, it is to the same reformatory
agency that he is forthwith subjected. The rough and ready surgery
with which we deal with our social patients recalls the simple
method of the early physicians. The tradition still lingers among
old people of doctors who prescribed bleeding lor every ailment,
and of keepers of asylums whose one idea of ministering to a
mind diseased was to put the body into a strait waistcoat. Modern
science laughs to scorn these simple " remedies" of an unscientific age,
and declares that they were, in most cases, the most efficacious
means of aggravating the disease they professed to cure. But in
social maladies we are still in the age of the Liood-letter and" the
stratrwaistcoat.'^The"Ga6t1S'6uf s^^^^ all

else fails *1Society will always undertake to feed, clothe, warm, and
house a man, if only he will commit a crime. It will do it also in
such a fashion as to render it no temporary help, but a permanent
necessity.

Society says to the individual : " To qualify for free board and
lodging you must commit a crime. But if you do you must pay the
price. You must allow me to ruin your character, and doom
you for the rest of your life to destitution, modified • by the
occasional successes of criminality. You shall become the Child
of the State, on condition that we doom you tQ a tem-
poral perditioni out of which you will never be permitted to escape,

EMIGRATION AS A PANACEA.

and in which ^ou will always be a charge upon our resources and a
constant souice of anxiety and inconvenience to the authorities. I
wil l feed you, certai nly^ bat in retMrfi^--yPU4aMst permit me to damn
you!*" 1* hat sualy . ought' not. to be the last word' 6t Civilised

**T!crtainly noi, ^ say others. " Emigration is the true specific.
Th^ waste lands oPthe world are' crying aloud for the application of
surplus labour. Emigration is the panacea." Now I have no objec-
tion to emigration. Only a criminal lunatic could seriously object to
the transference of hungry Jack from an overcrowded shanty —
where he cannot even obtain enough bad potatoes to dull the
ache behind his waistcoat, and is ' tempted to let his child
die for the sake of the insurance money — to a land flowing
with milk and honey, where he can eat meat three times
a day and where a man's children are his wealth. But you
might as well lay a new-born child naked in the middle of a new-sown
field in March, and expect it to live and thrive,. as expect emigration
to produce successful results on the lines which some lay down.
The child, no doubt, has within it latent capacities which, when years
and training have done their work, will enable him to reap a harvest
from a fertile soil, and the new sown field will be covered with
golden grain in August. But these facts will not enable the infant
to still its hunger with the clods of the earth in the cold spring time.
It is just like that with emigration. It is simply criminal to take a
multitude of untrained men and women and land them penniless and
helpless on the fringe of some new continent. The result of such
proceedings we see in the American cities; in the degradation of their
slums, and in the hopeless demoralisation of thousands who, in their
Qwn country, were living decent, industrious lives.

A few months since, in Paramatta, in New South Wales, a young
man who had emigrated with a vague hope of mending his fortunes,
found himself homeless, friendless, and penniless. He was a clerk.
They wanted no more clerks in Paramatta. Trade was dull, employ-
ment was 8ca#ce, even for trained hands. He went about from day
to day seeking work and finding none. " At last he came to the end
of all his resources. He went all day without food ; at night he
slept as best he could. Morning came, and he was hopeless.
All next day . passed without a meal. Night came. He could not
sleep. He wandered about restlessly. ; At last, about midnight,,' an
Idea eozed him. (braspiiig a brick, ke deliberately walked up "to a

,i\.

IS THERE NO HELPt

jeweller's window, and smashed a hole through the glass. He

made no attempt to steal anything. He merely smashed the

pane and then sat down on the pavement beneath the window,

waiting for the arrival of the policeman. He waited some hours ;

but at last the constable arrived. He gave himself up, and was

marched off to the lock-up. " I shall at least have something to eat

now," was the reflection. He was right. He was sentenced to

one year's imprisonment, and he is in gaol at this hour. This very

morning he received his rations, and at this very moment he is

lodged, and clothed and cared for at the cost of the rates and taxes.

He has become the child of the State, and, therefore, one of the

socially damned. Thus emigration itself, instead of being an

invariable specific, sometimes brings us back again to the gaol door, 'f

Emigration, by all means. But whom are you to emigrate?

These girls who do not know how to bake ? These lads who never

handled a spade ? And where are you to emigrate them ? Are

you going to make the Colonies the dumping ground of your human

refuse ? On that the colonists will have something decisive to say,'

where there are colonists ; and where there are not, how are you

to feed, clothe, and employ your emigrants in the uninhabited

wilderness? Immigration, no doubt, is i making of a colony,'

just as bread is the staff of life. But if you were to cram a stomach

with wheat by a force-pump you would bring on such a fit of

indigestion that unless your victim threw up the indigestible mass

of unground, uncooked, unmasticated grain he would never want

another meal. So it is with the new colonies and the surplus labour

of other countries.

Emigration is in itself not a panacea. Is Education ? .- In one
sense it may be, for Education, the developing in a man of all his
latent capacities for improvement, may cure anything and everytliing.
But the Education of which men speak when they use the term, is
mere schooling. No one but a fool would say a word against school
teaching. By all means let us have our children educated. But
when we have passed them through the Board School Mill we have
enough experience to see that they do not emerge the * renovated
and regenerated beings whose advent was expected bjr those who
passed the Education Act. The " scuttlers " who knife inoffensive
persons in Lancashire, the fighting gangs of the West of London^^
l^long to the generation that has enjoyed the advantage of Compulsoj^
Education. Education, book-learning and schooling _will not

THE LIMITATIONS

OF TRADES UNIONISM.

■rt~

ass.

shed the
I window,
le hours ;
and was
ing to eat
enced to
This very
;nt he is
nd taxes,
le of the
being an
io\ door. ^■
migrate ?
rho never
n? Are
ir human
re to say,"
■ are you
inhabited
El colony/
I stomach
i a fit of
ible mass
/er want
is labour

■^' In one
f all his
irytliing.
: term, is
St school
id. But
ive have
movated
ose who
)frensive
London^
ipulsoiqr
rill not

Solve the difficulty.- It helps,"^no doubt. But in some ways it
aggravates it. The common school to which the children of
thieves and harlots and drunkards are driven, to sit side by side
with our little ones, is oftcft b}' nn means a temple of all the virtues.'
It is sometimes a university of all the vices. The Lad infect the
good, and your boy and girl come back reeking with the contamina-
tion of bad associates, and familiar with the coarsest obscenity of
the slum. Another great evil is the extent to which our Education
tends to overstock the labour market with material for quill-drivers
and shopmen, and gives our youth a distaste for sturdy labour.
Many of the most hopeless cases in our Shelters are men of con-
ciderable education. Our schools help to enable a starving man to
tell his story in more grammatical language than that which his
father could have employed, but they do not feed him, or teach him
7/here to go to get fed. So far from doing this they increase the ten-
dency to drift into those channels where food is least secure, because
employment is most uncertain, and the market most overstocked.

" Try Trades Unionism," say some, and their advice is being
widely followed. There arfe many and great advantages in Trades
Unionism. The fable of the bundle of sticks is good for all time.
The more the working people can be banded together in voluntary
organisations, created and administered by themselves for the
protection of their own interests, the better — at any rate for this
world — and not only for their own interests, but for those of every
other section of the community. But can we rely upon this agency
as a means of solving the problems which confront us ? Trades
Unionism has had the field' to itself for a generation. It is twenty
years since it was set free from all the legal disabilities under which
it laboured. But it has not covered the land. It has not organised all
skilled labour. Unskilled labour is almost untouched. At the
Congress at Liverpool only one and a half million workmen were
represented. Women are almost entirely outside the pale. Trade
Unions not only represent a fraction of the labouring classes, but
they are, by their constitution, unable to deal with those who do
not belong to their body. What ground can there be, then, for
hoping that Trades Unionism will by itself solve the difficulty?
The most experienced Trades Unionists will be the first to admit that
any scheme which could deal adequately with the out-of-works and
others who hang on to their skirts and form the recruiting ground
pf blacklejgs and ?mtojirr^s§ tliem in every way, woul?l be,^ of 9\^

J ■

18 THERE NO HELPr

% y

oUler» that whl^h would be most benef.cial to Trades Unionism.
The same may be said about Co-operation. Personally, I am
a strong believer in Co-operation, but it must be Co-operation based
uu the spirit uf benevolence. I don't see how any pacific re-adjust-
ment of the social and economic relations between classes in this
country can be effected except by' the gradual substitution of co-
operative associations for the present wages system. As you
will see in subsequent chapters, so far from there being anything in
my proposals that would militate in any way against the ultimate
adoption of the co-operative solution of 'the question, I look to
Co-operation as one of the chief elements of hope in the future. But
we have not to deal with the ultimate future, but with the immediate
present, and fior the evils with which we are dealing the existing cc -
operative organisations do not and cannot give us much help..

Another — I do not like to call it specific ; it is only a name, a mere
mockery of a specific — so let me call it another suggestion made
when discussing this evil, is Thrift. Thrift is a great virtue no
doubt. But how is Thrift to benefit those who have nothing?
What is the use of the gospel of Thrift to a man who had nothing
to eat yesterday, and has not threepence to-day to pay for his lodging
to-night? To live on njjthjiiga-iiay-is difficult f;iOi^
on it would beafthe cleverest politjcal economist that ever lived. I
adrnit~'with6ii[l"h"esrtatioti that apy Scheme which weakened the
incentive to Thrift would do harm. But it is a mistake to imagine
that social damnation is an incentive to Thrift. It operates least
where its force ought to be most felt. There is no fear that any
Scheme that we can devise will appreciably diminish the deterrent
influences which dispose a man to save. But it is idle wasting time
upon a plea that is only brought forward as an excuse for inaction.
Thrift is a great virtue, the inculcation of which must be
constantly kept in view by all those who are attempting to
educate and save the people. It is not in any sense a specific for the
salvation of the lapsed and the lost. Even among the most wretched
of the very poor, a man must have an object and a hope before he
will save a halfpenny. " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we
perish," sums up the philosophy of those who have no hope. In the
thriftiness of the French peasant we see that the temptation
of eating and drinking is capable of being resolutely subordinated to
die superior claims of the accumulation of a dowry for the daughtef|
or for the acquisition of a little more land for the son. ,■

eOCIAUST UTOPIANISM.

Unionism,
ly, I am
on based
e-adjust-
in this
n of co-
As you
thing in
ultimate
look to
e. But
imediatr;
ting cc-
).,

, a mere
>n made
irtuc no
lothing ?
nothing
lodginn;
-to save
ived. J.
ned the
imagine
es least
hat any
eterrent
ng time
naction.
ust be
ting to
for the
retched
fore he
row we
In the
ptation
ated to
Jghter,

Or<ihe>rs"cliemes of those who-Tn-opose to bring in a new heaven
and'a new <arth by a more scientific distribution of the pieces of gold
and silver in the trouser pockets of mankind, I need not say anything
here.-. They may be good or they may not. I say nothing against any
short cut to the Millennium that is compatible with the Ten Com-
mandments. T intensely sympathise with the aspirations that lie
behind all these Socialist dreams. But whether it is Henry
Georgo's Single Tax on Land Values, or Edward Bellamy's National-
ism, or the more elaborate schemes of the Collectivists, my attitu<J-2
towards them all is the same. What these good people want
to do, J also want to do. But I am a practical man, deal-
ing with the actualities of to-day. I have no preconceived
theories, and I flatter myseli I am singularly free from prejudicer..
I am ready to sit at the feet of any who will show me any good. 1
keep my mind open on all these subjects ; and am quite prepared to
hail with open anns any Utopia that is offered me. But it must be
within range of my finger-tips. It is of no use to me if it is in the
clouds. Cheques on the Bank of Futurity I accept gladly enough
aSs^a free gift, but I can hardly be expected to take them as if they
were current coin, or to try to cash them at the Bank of England.

It may be that nothing will be put permanently^ right until every-
thing" Has beefi"turried upsrdS'^iSo^^lt'^T^ are HffamJy so
many things' thtt*-^HBced'tfstilit8nmng^ beginning with the heart of
each individual man and woman, that I do not quarrel with any
Visionary when in his intense longing for the amelioration of the
condition of mankind he lays down his theories as to the necessity
for radical change, however impracticable they may, appear ta me*
But this is the question. Here at our Sy Iters last night
were a thousand hungry, workless people, i want to know
what to do with them? Here is John Jones, a stout stalwart
labourer in rags, who has not had one square meal for a month, who
has been hunting for work that will enable him to keep body and
soul together, and hunting in vain. There he is in his hungry
raggedness, asking for work that he may live, al^d not die of sheer
starvation in the midst of the wealthiest city in the world. , What is
torhe done with John Jones 2

"Hie individualist tells me^that the free plaxof the Na*.u-?il Laws
governing the struggle for.«xislence will result in the Survival of the
Fittest,*^and that in the course of a few ages^. more or less, a much
nobler typft will be^volved. But jneanwhUgjvhjit ia.Jto become of Johp

.'.,-.yi

18 THERE NO HELP?

Jones ? The Socialist tells me that the great Social Revolution is
looming larfje on the horizon. In the good time coming, when wealth
will be rc-distributed and private property abolished, all stomachs
will be filled and there will be no more John Jones** impatiently
clamouring for opportunity to work that they may not die. It may
be so, but in the meantime here is John Jones growing more im-
patient than ever because hungrier, who wonders if he is to wait for
a dinner until the Social Revolution has arrived. What are we to do
with John Jones ? That is the question. And to the solution of that
question none of the Utopians give me mucli help. For practical pur-
poses these dreamers fall under the condemnation they lavish so freely
upon the conventional religious people who relieve themselves of all
anxiety for the welfare of the poor by saying that in the next world
all will be put right. ThisreHjg^gHg^antj which ridsjig^^^j]^ alljhe
importunity of suffering "Humanity by drawing unri^otiable bills pay-
abhrim~theoth«i*'%ia^"bf thigfrvi^^^^ than

thgnSoHairsliS^tlap^trap which postpones uU redress of human suffer-
ing until after the general overturn. Both take refuge in the Future
to escape a solution of the problems of the Present, and it matters
little to the sufferers whether the Future is on thir side of the grave
or the other. Both are, for them, equally out of reach.

When the sky falls we shall catch larks. No doubt. But in the
meantime ?

It is the meantime — that is the only time in which we have to work.
It is in the meantime that the people must be fed, that their life's work
must be done or left undone for ever. Nothing that I have to
propose in this book, or that I propose to do by my Scheme, will in
the least prevent the coming of any of the Utopias. I leave the
limitless infinite of the Future to the Utopians. They may build
there as they p^oase. As for me, it is itulispensable that whatever I
do is founded on existing fact, and provides a present help for the
actual need.

There is only one class of men who have cause to oppose the
proposals which I am about to set forth. That is those, if such
there be, who are determined to bring about by any and every means
a bloody and violent overturn of all existing institutions. They will
oppose the Scheme, and they will act logically in so doing. Fofthe only
hope of those who are the artificers of R.evolutiOn is the mads of^^ething
discontent and misery that lies in the heart "of thfe 8ocial'^%yiitem.
Honestly believing that things intint get worse before they get

THE SOLDIERS OF DESPAIR.

better, .they build all their hopes upon the general overturn, and
they resent as an indefinite postponement of the realisation of their
dreams any attempt at a reduction of human misery.

The Army of the Revolution is recruited by the Soldiers of Despair
Therefore, down with any Scheme which gives men Hope. In so far as
it succeeds it curtails our recruiting ground and reinforces the ranks
of our Enemies. Such opposition is to be counted upon, and to be
utilised as the best of all tributes to the value of our work. Those
who thus count upon violence and bloodshed are too few to hinder,
and their opposition will merely add to the momentum with which I
hope and believe this Scheme will ultimately be enabled to surmount
all dissent, and achieve, with the blessing of God, that measure of
success with which I verily believe it to be charged.

A .'

ii !

PART II.^ DELIVERANCE

f- ; CHAPTER I.
A STUPEKDOUS UNDERTAKJNa

Such, then, is a brief and hurried survey of Darkest England, and
those v/ho have been in the depths of the enchanted forest in which
wander the tribes of the despairing Lost will be the first to admit
that I have in no way exaggerated its horrors, while most will
assert that I have under-estimated the number of its denizens. I
have, indeed, very scrupulously striven to keep my estimates of the
extent of the evil within the lines of sobriety. Nothing in such an
enterprise as that on which I am entering could worse befall me
than to come under the reproach of sensationalism or exa^eration.
Most of the evidence upon vvhich I have relied is taken direct from
the official statistics supplied by the Government Returns;
and as to the rest, I can only say that if my figures
are compared with those of any other writer upon this subject,
it will be found that my estimates are the lowest. I am not
prepared to defend the exact accuracy of my calculations, excepting
so far as they constitute the minimum. To those who believe that
the numbers of the wretched are far in excess of my figures, I have
nothing to say, excepting this, that if the evil is so much greater than
I have described, then let your efforts be proportioned to your
estimate, not to mine. The great point with each of us is, not how
many of the wretched exist to-day, but how few shall there exist in
the years that are to come.

The dark and dismal jungle of pauperism, vice, and despair is the
inheritance to which we have succeeded from the generations and
centuries past, during which wars, insurrections, and internal

'84

A STUPENDOUS

UNDERTAKING

1 .i'ti...:,,4iJfii m

troubles left our forefathers small leisure to attend to thd welf-btiiig
of the sunken tenth. Now that we have happened upan more
fortunate times, let us recognise that we are our brother's keeper?^
and set to work, regardless of party, distinctions and religious
differences, to make this world of ours a little bit more like home for
those whom we call our brethren

T^e problem, it must be admitted, is "by no means a simple one ;
nor can anyone accuse me in the foregoing pages of having mini-
mised the difficulties which heredity, habit, and surroundings place in
the way of its solution, but unless we are prepared to fold our arms
in selfish ease and say that nothing can be done, and thereby dooui
those Uost millions to remediless perdition in this world, to say
nothing of the next, the problem must be solved in some way. But
in: what way? That is the question. It may tend, perhaps, to
the crystallisation of opinion on this subject if I lay down, with
such precision as I can command, what must be the essential
dements of any scheme likely to command success.

W !•

Section i.— THE ESSENTIALS TO SUCCES&

The first essential that must be borne in mind as governing every
Scheme that ma^ be put forward is that it must change the man when
it is his character and conduct wntcn constitute the reasons for his failure
in the battle of life. No change in circumstances, no revolution in
social conditions, can possibly transform the nature of man. Some
of the worst men and women in the world, whose names are
chronicled by history with a shudder of horror, were those who had
all the advantages that wealth, education and station could confer or
ambition could attain.

The supreme test of any scheme for benefiting numanity lies in the
answer to the question, What does it make of the individual? Does
it quicken his conscience, does it soften his heart, does it enlighten
his mind, does it, in short, make more of a true man of him, because only
by such influences can he be enabled to lead a human life? Among the
denizens of Darkest England there are many who have found their way
thither by defects of character which would under the most favourable
circumstances relegate them to the same position. Hence, unless you
can change their character your labour will be lost. You may clothe
the drunkard, fill his purse with gold, establish him in a well-furnished
home, and in three, or six, or twelve months he will once more be on
the Embanknient, haunted by delirium tremens, dirty, squalid, and
ragged. Hence, in all cases where a man's own character and
defects constitute the reasons for his fall, that character must be
changed and that conduct altered if any permanent beneficial results
are to be attained. If he is a drunkard, he must be made sober;
if iu% he must be made industrious ; if criminal, he must be made
honest; if impure, he must be made clean ; and if he be so deep
down -n vice, and has been there so long that he has lost all heart,
and hope, and power to help >-'mself, and absolutely refuses to move,
kc must be inspired with hope and have created within him the
ar'jition to rise ; otherwise he will never ^cc out of th? horrible pit,

' (

WffS^mmsmmmm

THE ESSENTIALS TO SUCCESS.

Secondly : The remedy, to be ejffectuaL must change the circumstances
of the individual when they are the cause of his wretched coar'^ition, and
lie beyond his control. Among those who have arrived at their
present evil plight through faults of self-indulgence or some defect in
their moral character, how many are there who would have been very
difterently placed to-day had their surroundings been otherwise ?
Charles Kingsley puts this very abruptly where he makes the.
Poacher's widow say, when addressing the Bad Squire, who drew back

*♦ Our daughters, with base-bom babies,
Have wandered away in their shame.
If your misses had slept, Squire, where they did,
Your misses might do the same.'

Placed in the same or similar circumstances, how many of us v/o?:M
hav2 turned out better than this poor, lapsed, sunken multitude ?

M;;r-y of this crowd have never had a chancejof doi5g.^^^ier; they
h ?.\^i?iSetft(ora"rrilr']b6ispncd fttmoB^^^

v/incTT have rendered modesty an impossibility, and have been
thrown iStb life in conditions which malce vice a. second nature.
Hence, to provide an effective remedy for the evils which Vvs
p.re deploring these circumstances must be altered, and unless
my Scheme effects such a change, it will be of no use.
There are multitudes, myriads, of men and • women, who
are fioundering in the horrible quagmire beneath the burden
of a load too heavy for them to bear; every plunge they
take forward lands them deeper ; some have ceased even to
struggle, and lie prone in the filthy bog, slOwly suffocating,
with their manhood and womanhood all but perished. It is
no use standing on the firm bank of the quaking morass and
anathematising these poor wretches ; if you arc to do them any good,
you must give them another chance to get on their feet, you m.ust
give them firm foothold upon which they can once more stand upright,
and you must build stepping-stones across the bog to enable them
safely to reach the otlier c-icie. Favourable circumstances will not
change a man's heart or transform his nature, but unpropitious
circ'.imstances may render it absolutely impossible for him to escape,
Rorr.attcr how he may desire to e;^f;ricate himself. The first step with
these helpless, sunken creaturer. is to create the desire to escape, and
then provide the means for doing so. In other words, give the man
Another chance.

WHAT THE SCHEME MUST BE AND M UST NOT BE 87

Thirdly : Af{y remedy worthy of conuderation must be on a
I scale commensurate with the evil with which it proposes to deal. It
is no use Crying to bail out the ocean with a pint pot. This evil is
one whose victims are counted by the million. The army of the Lost
in our mid.:t exceeds the numbers of that multitudinous host which
Xerxes led from Asia to attempt the conquest of Greece. - Pass in
parade tho^^e who make up the submeiged tenth, count the
paupers indoor and outdoor, the homeless, the starving, the
criminals, the lunatics, the drunkards, and the harlots — and yet
do not give way to despair 1 Even to attempt to save a tithe of
this host requires that we should put much more force and fire into
our work than has hitherto been exhibited by anyone. There must
be no more philanthropic tinkering, as if this vast sea of human
misery were contained in the limits of a garden pond.

Fourthly : Not only must the Scheme be large enough, but it must
bi permanent. That is to say, it must not be merely a spasmodic
effort coping with the misery of to-day ; it must be established
on a durable footing, so as to go on dealing with the misery of to-
morrow and the day after, so long as there is misery left in the world
with which to grapple.

Fiuhly : But while it must be permanent, it must also be immediately
practicable. Any Scheme, to be of use, must be capable of being
brought into instant operation with beneficial results.

Sixthly : The indirect features of the Scheme must not be such as
tc produce injury to the persons whom we seek to benefit. Mere
charity, for instance, while relieving the pinch of hunger, de-
moralises the recipient ; and whatever the remedy is that we employ,
it must be of such a nature as to do good without doing evil at the
same time. It is no use conferring sixpennyworth of benefit on a
p:in if, at the same time, we do him a shilling'sworth of harm.

Seventhly : V/htle assisting one class of the community, it must not
seriouzly interfere zvitk the interests of another. In raising one section
of the fallen, we mvtet not thereby endanger the safety of those who
with difficulty are keeping on their feet.

These are the conditions by which I ask you to test the Scheme 1
am about to unfold. They are formidable enough, possibly, to deter
maay from even attempting to do anything. They arc not of my
BMiking. They are obvious to anyone who looks into the matter.
They are the laws which govern the work of the* philanthropic

^1^

ii.i-« KMn* J."3t?5*r,:

)

]

THE ESSENTIALS TO SUCCESS.

reformer, just as the laws of gravitation, of wind and of weather,
govern the operations of the engineer. It is no use saying we could
build a bridge across the Tay if the wind did not blow, or that we
could build a failv/ay across a bog if the quagmire would afford us a
solid foundation. The engineer has to take into account the difficulties,
and make them his starting point. The wind will blow, therefore
the bridge must be made strong enough to resist it. Chat Moss will
shake ; therefore wc must construct a foundation in the very bowels
of the bog on which to build our railway. So it is with the social
difficulties which confront us. If we act in harmony with these laws
we shall triumph ; but if we ignore them they will overwhelm us
v/ith destruction and cover us with disgrace.

But, difficult as the task may be, it is not one which we can
neglect. When Napoleon was compelled to retreat under circum-
stances which rendered it impossible for him to cairy off his sick
and wounded, he ordered his doctors to poison every man in the
hospital. A general has before now massacred his prisoners rather
than allow them to escape. These Lost ones are the Prisoners of
Society ; they are the Sick and Wounded in our Hospitals. What a
shriek would arise from the civilised world -if it were proposed to
administer to-night to every one of these millions such a dose of
morphine that they would sleep to wake no more. But so far
as they are concerned, would it not be much less cruel thus
to end their life than to allow them to drag on day after day,
year after year, in m.isery, anguish, and despair, driven into vice
and hunted into crime, until at last disease harries them into the
grave ?

I am under no delusion as to the possibility of inaugurating a
millennium by my Scheme; but the triumphs of science deal so much
with the utilisation of waste material, that I do not despair of some-
thing effectual being accomplished in the utilisation of this waste
human product. The refuse which was a drug and a curse to our
manufacturers, when treated under the hands of the- chemist, has been
the means of supplying us with dyes rivalling in loveliness and
variety the hues of the rainbow. If the alchemy of science caii
extract beautiful colours from coal ta?J^t9if{?6t 15ni1^''Mc
enable ttS'toevoIve gladness arid bngKffiess bSn^^tfie agonised
hearts and darkj dreary, loveless lives' of 'th€Se'1Il^iftW myriads ?
Is it too much to hope that in God's vs'btld GbtPlTcKitSren may be
able to do somethingi if they set to work with a will, to carry out a

TH^ KEY TO THE ENIGMA.

w, therefore

)Ian of campaign against these great evils which are the nightmare
lof our existence ?

The remedy, it may be, is simpler than some imagine. The key

Ito the enignid may lie closer to our hands than we have any idea of.

■Many devices have been tried, and many have failed, no doubt ; it is

[only stubborn, reckless perseverance that can hope to succeed ; it is

Iwell that we recognise this. Ho* ^ many ages did men try to make

gunpowder and never succeeded ? They would put saltpetre to

charcoal, or charcoal to sulphur, or saltpetre to sulphur, and so

were ever unable to make the compound explode. But it has only been

discovered within the last few hundred years that all three were

needed. Before that gunpowder was a mere imagination, a phantasy

of the alchemists. How easy it is to make gunpowder, now the

I secret of its manufacture is known I

But take a simpler illustration, one which lies even within the
memory of some that read these pages. From the beginning of the
world down to the beginning of this century, mankind had not found
out, with all its striving after cheap and easy transport, the miraculous
difference that would be brought about by laying down two parallel
lines of metal. All the great uien and tl wise men of the past
lived and died oblivious of that fact. ^ he greatest mechanicians
and engineers of antiquity, the men who bridged all the rivers of
Europe^ the architects who built the cathedrals which are still the
wonder of the world, failed to discern what seems to us so obviously
simple a proposition, that two parallel lines of rail would diminish
the cost and difficulty of transport to a minimum. Without that
discovery the steam engine, which has itself been an invention of
quite recent years, would have failed to transform civilisation.

What we have to do in the philanthropic sphere is to find some-
thing analogous to the engineers' parallel bars. This discovery I
think I have made, and hence have I written this book.

- r "'■ pi

IV-r-

I i

SECTfow 2.— MY SjCHEME

What, then, is my Scheme ? It is a very simple one, although in
ils ramifications and extensions it embraces the whole world. In
this book I profess to do no more than to merely outline, as plainlv
and as simply as I can, the fundamental features of my proposals.
I propose to devote the bulk of this volume to setting iorth what can
practically be done with one of the most pressing parts of the
problem, namely, that relating to those who are out of work, and
vviio, as the result, are more or less destitute. I have many ideas of |
what might be done with those who are at present cared for in some
measure by the State, but I will leave these ideas for the present.

It is not urgent that I should explain how our Poor Law system
could be reformed, or what I should like to see done for the Lunatics
in AsyluHis, or the Criminals in Gaols. The persons who are pro-
vded for by the State we will, therefore, for the moment, leave
CM' G^ count. The indoor paupers, the convicts, the inmates ol
the lunatic asylums are cared for, in a fashion, already. But,
ov<2r and above all these, there exists some hundreds of thousands
wiio are not quartered on the State, but who are living on the
vsrge of despair, and who at any moment, under circumstances cf
misfortune, might be compelled to demand relief or support in ono
shape or another. I will confine myself, therefore, for the present
to those who have no helper.

It is possible, I think probable, if the proposals which I am now
putting forward are carried out successfully in relation to the lost,
homeless, and helpless of the population, that many of those who
are at the present moment in somewhat better circumstances will
demand that they also shall be allowed to partake in the benefits of
the Scheme. But upon this, also, I remain silent. I merely remari:
that we have, in the recognition of the importance of discipline and
organisation, v/hat may be called regimented co-operation, a
principle that will be found valuable for solving maiy social prob-

THE OPEN SECRET.

lems other than that of destitution. Of these plans, which are at
present being brooded over with a view to their realisation when
the time is propitious and the opportunity occurs, I shall have
f.omething to say.

What is the outward and visible form of the Problem of the
Unemployed ? Alas ! we are all too familiar with it for any lengthy
I'cscription to be necessary. The social problem presents itself
i^cfore U9 whenever a hungry, dirty and ragged man stands at our
door asking if we can give him a crust or a job. That is the social
question. What are you to do with that man ? He has no money
in his pocket, all that he can pawn he has pawned long ago, his
.'tomach is as empty as his purse, and the whole of the clothes upon
'.is back, even if sold on the best terms, v/ould not fetch a shilling.
There he stands, your brother, with sixpennyworth of rags to cover
lis nakedness from his fellow men and not sixpennyworth of
victuals within his reach. He asks for work, which he v/ill set to
even on his empty stomach and in his ragged uniform, if so be that
you will give him something for it, but his hands are idle, for no one
employs him. What are you to do with that man ? That is the
great 'note of interrogation that confronts Society to-da3\ Not only
• n overcrowded England, but in newer countrier> beyond the
soa, wliere Society has not yet provided a means by which
ihc men can be put upon the land and the land be made
to feed the men. To deal with this man is the Problem
of the Unemployed. To deal with him effectively you must
deal with h'un immediately, you must provide him in some way or
other at once v/iih food, and shelter, and warmth. Next you must
find him something to do, something that will test tb.e reality of his
desire to v;ork. This test must be more or less temporary, and
should be of such a nature as to prepare him for making a permanent
livelihood. Then, h.aving trained him, you must provide him wliere-
v.'ithal to start life afresh. All these things I propose to do. My
Scheme divides itself into three sections, each of which is indis-
pensable for the .success of the whole. In this three-fold organisation
lies the open secret of the solution of the Social Problem.

The Scheme I have to offer consists in the formation of tncse
people into self-helping and self-sustaining communities, each being
a kind of co-operative society, or patriarchal family, governed and
disciplined on the prirnciples which have already proved so effective
ia the Salvation j\rmy.

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MY SCHEME.

These communities we will call, for want of a better term, Colotuos.
The-'c will be—

(i) The City Colony.

(2) The Farm Colony.

(3) The Over-Sea Colony.

THE CITY COLONY.

fiy the City Colony is meant the establishment, in the very
centre of the ocean of misery of which we have been speaking, of a
number of Institutions to act as Harbours of Refuge for all and any
who have been shipwrecked in life, character, or circumstances.
These Harbours will gather up the poor destitute creatures, supply
their immediate pressing necessities, furnish temporary employment,
inspire them with hope for the future, and commence at once a course
of regeneration by moral and religious influences.

From these Institutions, which are hereafter described, numbers
would, after a short time, be floated off to permanent employment, or
sent home to friends happy to receive them on hearing of their
reformation. All who remain on our hands would, by varied means,
be tested as to their sincerity, industry, and honesty, and as soon as
satisfaction was created, be passed on to the Colony of the second
class. «

THE FARM COLONY.

This would consist of a settlement of the Colonists on an estate in
the provinces, in the culture of which they would find employment
and obtain support'. As the race from the Count^toAcCity has
been the cause of much /rf-4h e - ;i J iStt tt 3 r ^j|!||^^^*]^^|ffi; we
propose ie find a imbstahtiat part of our leniedy^^ transferring these
same pCtiple back to the country)' tKaltis'liarjla^ !"

Here the process of reformation of character wouldbe carried for-
ward by the same industrial, moral, and religious methods as have
already been commenced in the City, especially including those forhis
of labour and that knowledge of agricultu;:e which, should the
Colonist not obtain employment in this country, will qualify him for
pursuing his fortunes under more favourable circumstances in some
other land.

From the Farm, as from the City, there t:an be no question that
large numbers, resuscitated in health and character, would be restored
to friends up and down the country. Some would find employment
in Iheir own callings, others would settle in cottages on a small piece

T^ THREI-FOLD COLONY.

■• y -.- ' ip» '

r^r-

otUnd that we should pfoyi^?, or Qp^'Co^operaitive Fan;ius vrhjojfk we
iniftnd to promote ) whil^ th^ g^^t bulk, after trial and training,
Wt>uld be passed on to the Foreign Settlement, which would con-
stitute our third class, namely The Over-Sea Colony.

THE OVER-SEA COLONY.

All who have given attention to the subject ire agreed that in our
Colonies in South Africa, Canada, Western Australia and elsewhere,
there are millions of acrei of useful land to be obtained almost for
the asking, capable of supporting our surplus population in health
and comfort, were it a thousand times greater than it is. We pro-
pose to secure a tract of land in one of these countries, prepare it
for settlement, establish in it authority, govern it by equitable laws,
assist it in times of necessity, settling it gradually with a prepared
people, and so create a home for these destitute multitudes.

The Scheme, in its entirety, may aptly be compared to A Grfeat
Machine, foundationed in the lowest slums and purlieus of our great
towns and cities, drawing up into its embrace the depraved and destitute
of all classes ; receiving thieves, harlots, paupers, drunkards, prodigals,
all alike, on the simple conditions of their being willing to work and
to confonn to discipline. Drawing up these poor outcasts, reforming
them, and creating iii them habits of industry, honesty, and truth ;
teaching them metho'ds by which alike the bread that perishes and
that which endures to Everlasting Life can be won. Forwarding
them from the City to the Country, and there continuing the process
of regeneration, and then pouring them forth on to the virgin soils
that await their coming in other lands, keeping hold of them with a
strong government, and yet making them free men and women ; and
so laying the foundations, perchance, of another Empire to swell to
vast proportions in later times. Why not ?

■ ^'■■

:■-',•

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i '

! , /,

wmmmmmmmi

•A-

;'^

CHAPTER IL

ITOTHE RESCUE !-THE CITY COLONY.

The first section of my Scheme is the establishment of a Receiving
House for the Destitute in every great centre of population. We
start, let us' remember, from the individual, the ragged, hungry,
penniless nian who confronts us with despairing demands for food,
shelter,* and work. Now, I have had some two or three years*
experience in dealing with this class. I believe, at the present
moment, the Salvation Army supplies more food and shelter to the
destitute than any other organisation in London, and it is the experi-
ence and encouragement which I have gained in the working of
these Food and Shelter Depots which has largely encouraged me to
propound this scheme.

Section i.— FOOD AND SHELTER FOR EVERY MAN.

As I rode through Canada and the United States some three years
ago, I was greatly impressed with the superabundance of food which
I saw at every turn. Oh, how I longed that the poor starving
people, and the hungry children of the E^st of London and of
other centres of our destitute populations, should come into the
midst of this abundance, but as it appeared impossible foif mc to
take tbem to it, I secretly resolved that I would endeavour to bring
some of it to them. I am thankful to say that I have already been
able to do so on a small scale, and hope to accomplish it ere long crt
a much vaster one.

With this view, the first Cheap Food Depdt was opened in tne
East of London two and a half years ago. This has been fol-
lowed^ by others, and we have now three establishments : others are
being arranged for

P Since the commencement in 1888, we have supplied over three
and %^ half million meals.

' Some idea can be formed of the extent to which these Food and
Shelter I^pOts have already struck their roots into the strata of

WHAT HAS BEEN DONE ALREADY.

Society which it is proposed to benefit, by the following figure*?,
which give the quantities of food sold during the year at our Food
Depdts.

'!ft

FOOD SOLD IN DEPOTS AND SHELTERS DURING i88q.

Article.

Weight.

•f

Measnre.

Soup 116,400 gaUons ...

Bread igzjtons 106,964 4lb.-lcave?

Tea 2j „ 46,980 gallons ,..

Coffee i.. iscwt 13-949

Cocoa 6 tons 29,229

Sugar 25 „

Potatoes ; 140

Flour... 18 „

Peaflour 28^ „

Oatmeal 3I „

Rice 12

Beans 12

Onions and parsnips 12

Jam....' 9

Mannalade 6

Meat 15

Milk : ,

Remarks,

.........

If «. .......

ft ..•••••••

. 300 bags
,.2,800 „
. 1 80 sacks
. 288 „

. 36
. 120

. 240 H
. 240 „
.2,880 jars

.i.920 ft

•*

.4,300 quarts.

This includes returns from three Food Depdts and five Sheltersi. I
propose to multiply their number, to develop their usefulness, and to
make them the threshold of the whole Scheme. Those who have already
visited our Depdts will understand exactly what this means. The
majority, however, of the readers of these pages have not done so,
and for them it is necessary to explain what they are.
'.: At each of our Dep6ts, which can be seen by anybody that cares to
take the trouble to visit them, there are two departments, one dealing
with food, the other with shelter. Of these both are worked together
and minister to the same individuals. Many come for food who do
not. come for shelter, although most of those who come for shelter
also come for food, which is sold on terms to cover, as nearly as
possible, the cost^pHiSeiind.vWorking expenses of the establishment.
In this otir Foo<Ji Depots differ from the ordinary soup kitchens.

'.u-

l:t

"sxam

h I

86 FOO D AND SHELTER FOR EVERY MAN

There is no gratuitous distribution of victuals. The following is our
Price List : —

Scup

WHAT IS SOLD AT THE FOOD DEP6tS.

FOR A CHILD.

I • Per Basin \

• •.. ... V/ith Bread \

Coffee or Cocoa per cup \

„ „ With Bread and Jam -^

ooup ••• •.« ••• . ...

tf *•• •«« ••• .«•
Potatoes

\..;«uo3go ... ... ...

Haricot Beans

Itclled Jam Pudding...
„ Plum „ ...

I<.icc
Baked Flura

FOR ADULTS.

Per Basin ^
With Bread i

••• •*• ••• ^

. ... 7^

• ••• U

* * ** 9

Each 1

. ... 2

. ... $

•*• •*.

• •• ^

... ^

Baked Jam Roll

Meat Pudding and Potatoes
Corned Beef „

M Mutton „

Cotiee per cup, \^ ; per mug r

Cocoa „ |d, „ X

7ea ... ... ,, ^d. „ X

Bread & Butler, Jam, or Marmalade

per slice \

Soup in own Jugs, id. per Quart.
Ready at lo a.m.
A certain discretionary power is vested in the OfHcers in charge

of the Dep6t, and they can in very urgent cases give relief, but the

i-ale is for the food to be paid for, and the financial results shew

liiat working expenses are just about covered.

These Cheap Food Depots I have no doubt have been and are ot
[i'.eat service to numbers of hungry starving men, women, and
children, at the prices just named, which must be within the
reach of all, except the absolutely penniless ; but it is the Shelter that
\ regaled as the most useful feature i»* this part of our undertaking,
for \\ anything is to be done to get hold of those v/ho use the Depdt,
tome more favourable opportunity must be afforded than is offered
by the mere coming into the food store to get, perhaps, only a basin
of soup. This part of the Scheme I propose to extend very
cottsiderably.

Suppose that you arc a casual in the streets of London, homeless,
friendless, weary with looking for work all day and finding none.
Night comes on. Where are you to go ? You have perhaps only
a few coppers, or it may be, a few shillings, left of the rapidly
dwindling store of your little capital. You shrink from sleeping in
the open air ; you equally shrink from going to the fourpenny Doss-
house where, ii. the midst of strange and ribald company, you may
he robbed ot the remnant of the money still in your possession.
While at a loss as to what to do, someone who sees you suggests

}wtng IS our

AT A*" SHELTER DEPOT. M7

^hat you should go to our Shelter. You cannot, of cou^, i^*^ iHe
!;asual Ward of the Workhouse as long as you have any money in
irour possession. You come along to one of our Shefters. On
jntering you pay fourpence, and are free of the establishment for
^he night. You can come in early or late. The company begins to
assemble about five o'clock in the afternoon. In the women's
shelter you find that many come much earlier and sit sewing,
reading or' chatting m the s , ely furnished but well warmed "oom
om the early hours of the afternoon until bedtime.
You come in, and you get a large pot of coffee, tea, or cocoa, and
la hunk of bread. You can go into the wash-house, where you can
|have a wash with plenty of warm water, and soap and towels free.
Then after having washed and eaten you can make yourself
Comfortable. You can write letters to your friends, if you have any
Ifriends to write to, or you can read, or you can sit quietly and do
Inothing. At eight o'clock the Shelter is tolerably full, and then
Ibegins what we consider to «be the indispensable feature of the
Iwhole concern. Two or three hundred men in the men's Shelter, or
las many women in the women's Shelter, are collected together, most
laf them strange to each other, in a large room. They are all wretchedly
(poor — what are you to do with them ? This is what we do with them.
We hold a rousing Salvation meeting. The Officer in charge of
;he Dep6t, ass: "ted by detachments from the Training Homes, con-
Ijucts a jovial free-and-easy social evening The girls have their
banjos and their tamb urines, and for a couple of hours you have
as lively a meeting as you will find in Lon ion. There is prayer,
[short and to the point; there are cadvesses, some delivered by the
eaders of the meeting, but the most oi tren the testimonies of those
Arho have been saved at previous meetings, and who. rising in their
[seats, tell their companions their experiences. Strange experiences
they often are of those ho have been dowrf »n the very bottomless
depths of sin and vice and misery, but who have found at last firm
footing on which to stand, and who are, as they say in all sincerity,
" as happy as the day is long." There is a joviality and a genuine
good feeling at some of these meetings which is refreshing to the
soul. There are all sorts and conditions of men ; ciasuals, gaol
birds, Out-of- Works, who have come there for the first time, and who
find men who last week or last month were even as they themselves
I are now — still poor *^ut rejoicing in a sense of brotherhood and a
Gonsciousnoss of th^ir being no longer outcasts and forlorn in thiSi

I ■;

FOOD AND SHELTER FOR EVERY, MAN

*^'

.'*•••* V * •'••' ,

wide world. There are men who have at last seen 'reviver- before
them a hope of escaping from that dreadful vortex, into which their
sins and misfortunes had drawn them, and being restored to those
comforts that they had feared so long were gone for ever; nay,
of rising to live a true and Godly life. • These tell their mates how
this has come about, and urge all who hear them to try for
themselves and see whether it is not a good and happy thing
to be soundly saved. In the intervals of testimony — and these
testimonies, as every one will bear me witness who has ever attended
any of our meetings, are not long, sanctimonious lackadaisical
speeches, but simple confessions of individual experience — there are
bursts of hearty melody. The conductor of the meeting will start
up a verse or two of a hymn illustrative of the experiences mentioned
by the last speaker, or one of the girls from the Training Home will
sing a solo, accompanying herself on her instrument, while all join
in a rattling and rollicking chorus.

There is no compulsion upon anyone of our dossers to take part
in this meeting ; they do not need to come in until it is over ; but as
a simple matter of fact they do come in. Any night between eight
and ten o'clock you will find these people sitting there, listening to
the exhortations and taking part in the singing, many of them, no
doubt, unsympathetic enough, but nevertheless preferring to be presem
with -the music and the wa .nth, mildly stirred, if only by curiosity,
as the various testimonies are delivered.

Sometimes these testimonies are enough to rouse the most cynical
of observers. We had at one of our shelters the captain of an
ocean steamer, who had sunk to the depths of destitution through
strong drink. He came in there one night utterly desperate and was
taken in hand by our people — and with us taking in hand is no mere
phrase, for at the close of our meetings our officers go from seat to
s^at, and if they see anyone who shows signs of being affected by the
speeches or the singing, at once sit down beside him and begin to
labour with him for the salvation of his soul. By this means they
are able to get hold of the men and to know exactly where the
difficulty lies, what the trouble is, and if they do nothing else, at least
succeed in convincing thein that there is someone who cares for their
soul and would do what he could to lend them a helping hand.

The captain of whom I was speaking was got hold of in this way.
He was deeply impressed, and was induced to abandon once and for
alL his. habits..Q{„ intemperance. From that_meeting he went an

reviver- beforcl

which theirl
>red to those
vc ever; nay.l
r mates howl

to try fori
happy thing
r — and these
ever attended
lackadaisical
:e — there are
ng will start
es mentioned [
ig Home will
vhile all join

to take part
over; but as
etween eight I
, listening to
r of them, no
; to be presem
by curiosity,

most cynical
aptain of an
ition through
irate and was
id is no mere
> from seat to
ITected by the

and begin to
s means they
y where the
: else, at least
ares for their

1 hand.
' in this way. I
once and fori
he went an

HE SALVATION DOSS HOUSE:

altered man. He regained his position in the merchant service, and
twelve months afterwards astonished us all by appearing In the
uniform of a captain of a Idrge ocean steamer, to testify to those
who were there how low he had been, how utterly he had lost all
hold on Societ}^ and all hope of the future, when, fortunately led to
the Shelter, he found friends, counsel, and salvation, and from that
time had never rested until he had regained the position which he
had forfeited by his intemperance.

The meeting over, the singing girls go back to the Training Home,
and the men prepare for bed. Our sleeping arrangements are
somewhat primitive ; we do not provide feather beds, and when you
go into our dormitories, you will be surprised to find the floor
covered by what look like an endless array of packing cases. Thess
are our beds, and each of them forms a cubicle. There is a mattress
laid on the floor, and over the mattress a leather apron, which is all
the bedclothes that we find it possible to provide. The men
undress, each by the side of his packing box, and go to sleep under
their leather covering. The dormitory is warmed with hot water
pipes to a te;mperature of 60 degrees, and there has never been any
complaint of lack of Wcirmth on the part of those who use the
Shelter. The leather can be kept perfectly clean, and the
mattresses, covered with American cloth, are carefully inspected
every day, so that no stray specimen of vermin may \x.
left in the place. The men turn in about ten o'clock and sleep
until six. We have never any disturbances of any kind in the
Shelters. We have provided accommodation ' now for several
thousand of the most helplessly broken-down men in London,
criminals many of them, mendicants, tramps, those who are among
the filth and ofTscouring of all things; but such is the iniluence
that is established by the meeting and. the moraH ascendancy
of our officers themselves, that we have never had a
fight on the premises, and very seldom do we ever hear
an oath or an obscene word. Sometimes there has been
trouble outside the Shelter, when men insisted upon coming in
drunk or were otherwise violent ; but once let them come to
the Shdter, and get into the swing of the concern, and we
have no trouble with them. In the morning they get up and have
their breakfast and, after a short service, go off their various ways.

We find that we can do this, that is to say, we can provide coffee.
and bread for breakfa3t and for supper, and a shake-down on the

' i

'il

100

FOOD AND SHELTER FOR EVERY MAN.

floor in the packing-boxes I have described in a warm dormitory
for fourpence a head.

I propose to develop these Shelters, so as to afTord every man
a locker, in which he could store any little valuables that he
may possess. I would also allow him the use of a boiler in
the washhouse with a hot drying oven, so that he could wash his
shirt over night and have it returned to him dry in the morning.
Only those who have had practical experience of the difficulty of
seeking for work in London can appreciate the advantages of
the opportunity to get your shirt washed in this way— if
you have one. In Trafalgar Square, in 1887, there wercJ
few things that scandalised the public more than the
spectacle of the poor people camped in the Square, washing their
shirts in the early morning at the fountains. If you talk to any men
who have been on the road for a lengthened period they will tell
you that nothing hurts their self-respect more or stands more fatally
in the way of their getting a job than the impossibility of getting^
their little things ^one up and clean.

In our poor man's "Home" everyone could at least keep himself
clean and have a clean shirt to his back, in a plain way, no doubt ;
but still not le^^ ^^ective than if he were to be put up at one of the
West End hoi. nd would be able to secure anyway the neces-
saries of life whue being passed on to something far better. This is
the first step.

SOME SHELTER TROPHIES.

Or the practical results which have followed our methods of deal-
ing with the outcasts who take shelter with us we have many striking
examples. Here are a few, each of them a transcript of a life
experience relating to men who are now active, industrious members
of the community upon which but for the agency of these Dep6ts they
would have been preying to this day.

A. S.— Born in Glasgow, 1825. Saved at Clerkenwell, May 19, 1889. Pool
parents raised in a Glasgow Slum. Was thrown on the streets at seven yean*
or age, became the companion and associate g( thieves, and drifted into crime.
The following are his terms of imprisonment : — 14 days, 30 days, 30 days, 60
days, 60 days (three times in succession), 4 months, 6 months (twice), 9 months,
18 months, 2 years, 6 years, 7 years (tMrice), 14 years ; 40 years 3 months and ^
days in the aggregate. Was flogged for violent conduct in gaol 8 times.

W. M. ("Buff").— Born in Deptford, 1864, saved at Clerkenwell, Mareb
3Mt, 1889.^ His ^father was an old Navy man, and earned a decent living

SOME SHELTER TROPHIES/

l«)1

I dormitory

every man
es that he
a boiler in
d wash his
morning,
difficulty of
rantages of
is way~-»f
here were

than the
eishing their
to any men
liey will tell
nore fatally

of getting^

eep himselif
, no doubt ;
t one of the
•.he neces-
er. This is

ods of deal-
any striking
pt of a lifo
us members
Depots they

, 1889. Pool
It seven yean*
id into crime.
, 30 days, 60
ce), 9 months,
months and ^
times.

nwell, March
decent living

lasmajiager. Was sober, respectable, and trustworthy. Mother was a dis*
reputable drunken slattern : a curse and disgrace to husband and family. The
home was broken up, and little Buff was given over to the evil influences of his

1 depraved mother. His 7th birthday present from his admiring parent was a
" quarten o' gin." He got some education at the One Tun Alley Ragged School,
but when nine years old was caught apple stealing, and sent to the Industrial
School at Ilford for 7 years. Discharged at the end of his term, he drifted to
the streets, the casual wards, and Metropolitan gaols, every one of whose
interiors he is familiar with. He became a ringleader of a gang that infested
London ; a thorough mendicant and ne'er-do-well ; a pest to society. Naturally
he is' a bom leader, ana one o\ rhose spirits that command a following ; conse-
quently, when he got Salvation, the major part of his following came after hfm
to the Shelter, and eventually to God. His character since conversion has been
altogether satisfactory, and he is now an Orderly at Whitechapel, and to all
appearances a " true lad."

C. W. (" Frisco ").— Bom in San Francisco, 1862. Saved April 24th,
1889. Taken away from home at the age of eight years, and made his way tu
Texas. Here he took up life amongst the Ranches as a Cowboy, and varied if
with occasional trips to sea, developing into a typical brass and rowdy. He had

2 years for mutiny at sea, 4 years for mule stealing, 5 years for cattle stealing,
and has altogether been in gaol for thirteen years and eleven months. He came
over to England, got mixed up with thieves and casuals here, and did several
short terms of imprisonment. He was met on his release at Millbank by an old
chum (Buff) and the Shelter Captain ; came to Shelter, got saved, and has stood
firm.^ •

H.'a. — Bora at Deptford, 1850. Saved at Clerkenwell, January 12th,
1889. Lost mother in early life, step-mother difficulty supervening, and a
propensity to misappropriation of small things developed into thieving. He
followed the sea, became a hard drinker, a foul-mouthed blasphemer, and, a
blatant spouter of infidelity. He drifted about for years, ashore and afloat,
and eventually reached the Shelter stranded. Here he sought God, and has
done well. This summer he had charge of a gang of hajrmakers sent into
the countty, and. stood the ordeal satisfactorily. He seems honest Jn his
profession, ^and^strives patiently to follow after God. He is at the
workshops.

H. S.— Bora^iat A , in Scotland. Like most Scotch lads although

parents were in poor circumstances he managed to get a good education.
Early ih life he took to newspaper work, and picked up the details of the
jottraalistiti ptofession in several prominent papers in N.B. Eventually he got
a position on a provincial newspaper, and having put in a course at Glasgpw
Umversity, giaduated^B.A.^there. :. After this ^he .was ^ on the. staff of %

102

FOOD AND aHELTER TOR EVERY MAN.

Welsh paper. He married n decent girl, and had several little onea, but
giving way to drink, lost position, wife, family, and friends. At times
he would struggle up and recover himself, and appears generally to have
been able to lecure a position, but again and again his besetment overcame
him, and each time he would drift lower and lower. For a time he was engaged
in secretarial work on a prominent London Charity, but fell repeatedly, and at
length was dismissed. He came to us an utter outcast, was sent to Shelter and
Workshop got saved, and is now in a good situation. He gives every promise,
and those best able to judge seem very sanguine that at last a real good work
baa been accomplished m him.

F. D. — Was bom in London, and brought up to the iron trade. Held several
good situations, losing one after another, from drink and irregularity. On one
occasion, with £10 in his pocket, he started for Manchester, got drunk there, was
locked up and fined five shillings, and fifteen shillings costs ; this he paid, and as
he was leaving the Court, a gentleman stopped him, saying that he knew his father,
and inviting him to his house ; however, with ;^io in his pocket, he was too
independent, and he declined ; but the gentleman gave him his address, and
left him. A few days squandered his cash, and clothes soon followed, all dis
appearing for drink, and then without a coin lie presented himself at the
address given to him, at ten o'clock at night It turned out to be his uncle, who
gave him £fl to go back to London, but this too disappeared for liquor. He
tramped back to London utterly destitute. Several nights were passed on the
Embankment, and on one occasion a gentleman gave him a ticket for the
Shelter ; this, however, he sold for 2d. and had a pint of beer, and stopped out
all night But it set him thinking, and he det^mined next day to raise 4d. and
see what a Shelter was like. He came to Whitechapel, became a regular cus-
tomer, eight months ago got saved, and is now doing well.

F. H.— Was bom at Birmingham, 1858. Saved at Whitechapel, March

26th, 1890. ^ Father died in his infancy, mother marrymg again. The

stepfather was a drunken navvy, and used to knock the mother about, and *he

lad was left to the streets. At 12 years of age he left home, and tramped to

Liverpool, begging his way, and sleeping on the roadsides. In Liverpool he

lived about the Docks for some days, sleeping where he could. Police found

him and returned him to Birmingham ; his reception being an unmerciful

thrashing from the dranken stepfather. He got several jobs as errand-lx>y,

remarkable for his secret pilferings, and two years later left with fifty shillings

stolen money, and reached Middlesbrough by road. Got work in a nail factory,

stayed nine months, then stole nine shillings from fellow-lodger, and again

took the road, He reached Birmingham, and finding a warrant out for him,

joined the Navy.' He was in the Impregnable training-ship three years,

tMhavedj^himself, j^only i^^etting " one dozen,'*_ and vras transferred with

iracter
dripk
lost e
eral t
V gaol
ces
in th
ed hi:
led his
rkct, bi
led do
ne. E\
ustwort
ice him,

. W. s..
is busii
into evi
iking; 1
iter, am
clothes
:wisha
nising i

T.— B<

ly in lii

Was

led a
1 passe
: unemj
k. He
dition ;
it a mar
:, he go
sent he
iience ir

S.-B
:ving p
ind out
over the
last ter
rriod a r<
iracter

1' \

SOME SHELTER TROPHIES.

103

aracter marked " good " to the Iron Dukt in the ' China seas ; soon
drinking, and was locked up and imprisoned for riotous conduct in
nost every port in the stations. ■•: He broke ship, and deserted
jreral times, and was a thorough specimen of a bad BritisI) tar. He

gaol in Signapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama, Shanghai, Canton, and other
Ices. In five years returned home, and, after furlough, joined the Belli

in the Irish station. Whisky here again got hold of him, and excess
led his constitution. On his leave he had married, and on his discharge
lied his wife in Dinningham. For some time he worked as sweeper in the
Irket, but two years ago deserted his wife and family, and came to London,
)led down to a loafer's life, lived on the streets with Casual Wards for his
ie. Eventually came to Whitechapcl Shelter, and got saved. He is now
lustworthy, reliable lad ; has become reconciled to wife, who came to London
fee him, and he bids fair lo be a useful man.

W. S. — Bom in Plymouth. His parents are respectable people. He is rl#>ver
[lis business, and has held good situations. Two years ago he came to London,
into evil courses, and took to drink. Lost situation lifter situation, and kept on
liking ; lost everything, and came to the streets. He found out Westminster
[iter, and eventually got saved \ his parents were communicated with, and help
I clothes forthcoming ; with Salvation came hope and energy ; he got a situation

:vvi!>ham (7d. per hour) at his trade. Four months standing, and is a

lising Soldier as well as a respectable mechanic.

T. — Born in Ireland ; well educated (commercially) ; clerk and accountant.
|ly in life joined the Queen's Army, and by good conduct worked his way
Was orderly-room clerk and paymaster'^ assistant in his regiment,
led a steady life whilst in the service, and at the expiration of his
passed into the Reserve with a " very good " character. He was a long
unemployed, and this appears to have reduced him to despair, and so to
kk. He sank to the lowest ebb, and came to Westminster in a deplorable
lition; coatless, hatless, shirtless, dirty altogether, a fearful specimen ot
|it a man of good parentage can be brought to. After being at Shelter some
e, he got saved, was passed to Workshops, and gave great satisfaction. At
sent he is doing clerical work and gives satisfaction as a workman : a good
jence in the-place.

S. — Born in London, of decent parentage. . FromT«^child he exhibited

lying propensities: soon got into the hands ^ of the fpolice, and was

|nd out of gaol continually. He led the life of a confirmed tramp, and roved

over the United Kingdom. He has been in penal servitude -three times, and

last term wa& for seven years, with police supervision.^A|^ter^his relt^ase he

riod a respectable girl, and tried to reform, but circumstances were ^'gaioft hiljg;;

[racter he bad.jione,a4;«QLGareer_only^tQ..rccDiiiaeadlJbiiikiiLndjHJLjie.tfttd

' I.

, ' .pi

! •

104

rUOD AND SHELTER FOR EVERY MAN.

his wife eventually drifted to destitution. They came to the Shelter, and askrJ
advice ; they were received, and he made application to the sitting Magistrate al
Clerkenwell as to a situation, and what he ought to do. The Magistratl
helped him, and thanlceu the Salvation Army for its efforts in behalf of him anil
such as he, and asked us to look after the applicant A little work was givcj
him, and after a time a good situation pro^nircd. To-day they have a goo
time ; he is steadily employed, and both arc serving God, holding the respeci
and confidence of neighbours, etc.

E. G. — Came to England in the service of a family of position, ani
afterwards was butler and upper servant in several houses of the nobility. Hi
health broke down, and for a long time he was altogether unfit for work,
had saved a considerable sum of money, but the cost of doctors and the nece^
sarics of a sick man soon played havoc with his little store, and he becar
reduced to penury and absolute want. For some time he was in the WorkhousJ
and, being discharged, he was advised to go to the Shelter. He was low i
health as well as in circumstances, and broken in spirit, almost despairing,
was lovingly advised to cast his care upon God, and eventually he was coi|
verted. After some time work was obtained as porter in a City warehous
Assiduity and faithfulness in a year raised him to the position of traveller. Tj
day he prospers in body and soul, rctaiiy,ng the respect and confidence of

associated with him.

'»

We might multiply these records, but those given show the kiiij
of results attained.

There's no reason to think that influences which have bcc
blessed of God to the salvation of these poor fellows will not
equally efficacious if applied on a wider scale and over a vastd
area. The thing to be noted in all these cases is that it was not tlj
mere feeding which effected the result ; it was the combination of til
feeding with the personal labour for the individual soul. Still, if \^
had not fed them, we should never have come near enough to gal
any hold upon their hearts. If we had merely fed them, they woul
have gone away next day to resume, with increased energy, tl|
predatory and vagrant life which they had been leading. Hut whe
our feeding and Shelter Depdts brought them to close quarters, oi|
officers were literally able to put their arms round their necks an
plead with them as brethren who had gone astray. We told thd
that their sins and sorrows had not shut them out from the love of tn
Everlasting Father, who had sent us to them to help them with all tlj
power of our strong Organisation, of the Divine authority of which
never feel so sure as when it is going forth to seek and to^sayejthejos

Section 2.— WORK FOR THE OUT-OF-WORKS.-THE FACTORY.)

The foregoing, it will be §aid,,is all. very^^wc^iifoi^^yQur outcast when
lie has got fourpence in his:fpockcti;' but i;yiiat;^Jf^he.^^h got his

fourpence ?. f^iWliat if you are confrbnted with., a^,c:rowdi!pf^un^
desperate wfdtches, without even a penny in their pouch, demanding
food and shelter? -This objection is natural enough, and has 'been
duly considered from the first.

I propose to establish in connection with every Food" and" Sheltec
Depot a Workshop or Labour Yard, in which any person wh6 comes
destitute and starving will be supplied with sufiicient work;to enable
liim to earn the fourpence needed for his bed and board, rf; This -is a
fundamental feature of the Scheme, and one which I think will
commend it to all those who are anxious to benefit the poor by
enabling them to help themselves without the demoralising interven-
tion of charitable relief.

Let us take our stand for a moment at the door of one of our
Shelters. There comes along a grimy, ragged, footsore tramp, his
feet bursting out from the sides of his slices, his clothes all rags,
with filthy shirt and towselled hair. He has been, he tells you,;on
the tramp for the last three weeks, seeking work and finding npne,
slepi last night on the Embankment, and wants to kijpw if jrouVpan
give him a bite and a sup, and shelter for the night. • Has he any
money ? Not he ; he probably spent the^ last penny he begged 'or
earned in a pipe of tobacco, with which to dull the crav'iigs of his
Iiungry stomach?^ ^Whafare ycjn to do with this man?.

Remember^tlTis;';iscl.np^, fancy s)cetch»— it is a typical case. .There
are hundreds, and5'thousauds of such applicants. ^ Any one who j's'
at all familiar with Kfe.inliLondon arid. ouriother large towns, will
recognise thatj. gauntr figure, standing ^here. tasking, for bread and
shelter or for^.work b3i;f^hich he' can^btairiy.'both. . What can .W5
do with him ?/t^efore'1iim Society siands "paralysed, "qui.etingf'its
conscience every ^ nowJ, and «. then by^ an^ occasion aL. dole j of bread

r I J'

'1 ■
I,

• :!■.!

lOd WORK .FOR THE OUT-OP.WORKS.-THE FACTORY.

and^soupl varied with the semi-cnminal treatment of the Casua
Ward, ontil the manhood is crushed out of the man and you have in
your hands a ••eckless, despairing, spirit-broken creature, with not even
an aspiration to rise above his miserable circumstances, covered with
vermin and filth, sinking ever lower and lower, until at last he is
hurried out of sight in the rough shell which carries him to a pauper's
grave

I propose to take that man, put a strong arm round him, and
extricate him from the mire In which he is all but suffocated. As a
first step we will say to him, " You are hungry, here is food ; you
are homeless, here is a shelter for your head ; but remember you
must work for your ration*. This is not charity ; it is work for the
workless, help for those who cannot help themselves. 4. There is the
labour shed, go and earn your fourpence, and then come in out of
the cold and the wet into the warm shelter ; here is your mug of
coffee and your great chunk of bread, and after you have finished
these there is a meeting going on in full swing with its joyful music
and hearty human intercourse. There are those who pray for you
and with you, and will make you feel yourself a brother among men.
tThere is your shake-down on the floor, where you will have your
warm, quieir -bed, undisturbed by the ribaldry and curses with which
you have bc^n familiar too long There is the wash-house, where
you can have a thorough wash-up at last, after all these days of
unwashedncss. There is plenty of soap and warm water and clean
towels ; there, too, you can wash your shirt and have it dried while
you sleep. In the morning when you get up there will be breakfast
for you, and 3'our shirt will be dry and clean. Then when you are
Washed and rested, and are no longer faint with hunger, you can go
and seek a job, or go back to the Labour shop until something better
turns up."

But where and how ?

Now let me introduce you to our Labour Vard.''^Here is no
pretence of charity beyond the charity which gives a man remunera-
tive labour. It is not our business to pay men >vages. What tre
propose is to enable those, male or female, who are destitute, to earn
their rations and do enough work to pay for their lodging until they
are able to go out into the world and earn wages for themselves.
There is no compulsion upon any one to resort to our shelter, but if
a penniless man wants food he must, as a rule, do work sufficient to
fky for wllat he has of that and of other accommodatibn. I say as a rule

he Casua
ou have in
h not even
I'cred with
last he is
a pauoer's

him, and
ed. As a
food; you
mber you
rk for the
icre is the

in out of
ur mug of
e finished
^ful music
y for you
long men.
lave your
'ith which
se, where
c days of
and clean
*ied while
breakfast
1 you are
3U can go
ing better

re is no
emunera-
Whattre
i, to earn
ntil they
:mselves.
;r, but if
iicient to
as a rule

NOT CHARITY, BUT WORK.

107

because, of course, our Officers will be allowed to make exceptions in
extreme cases, but the rule will be first work then eat. And
that amount: of work will be exacted rigorously. It is that which
distinguishes this Scheme from mere charitable relief.

1 do not wish to have any hand in establishing a new centre of
demoralisation, i I do not want my customers to be pauperised by
being treated to anything which they do not earn. To develop
self-respect ■ in the man, to make him feel that at last he has
got his foot planted on the first rung of the ladder which leads
upwards, is vitally important, and this cannot be done unless the
bargain between him and me is strictly carried out. So much coffee,
so much bread, so much shelter, so much warmth and light from mc,
but so much labour in return from him.

What labour ? it is asked. For answer to this question I would
like to take you down to our Industrial Workshops in Whitechapcl.
There you will see the Scheme in experimental operation. What we
are doing there we propose to do everywhere up to the extent of the
necessity, and there is no reason why we should fail elsewhere if wc
can succeed there.

Our Industrial Factory at wniiecnapel was established this Spnng,
We opened it on a v<:ry small scale. It has developed until we have
nearly ninety men at work. Some of these arc skilled workmen
who are engaged in carpentry. The particular job they have now
in hand is the making of benches for the Salvation Army. Others
arc engaged in mat making, some are cobblers, others painters, and
so forth. This trial effort has, so far, answered admirably. No
one who is taken on comes for a permanency. So long as he is
willing to work for his rations he is supplied with materials and
provided with' skilled superintendents. The hours of work are
eight per day. '^ Here are the rules and regulations under which the
work is carried on at present : —

THE SALVATION .ARMY SOCIAL REFORM WING.

■■1

Temporary Headquarters —

36, Upper Thames Street, Londo.'t, E.C.
CITY INDUSTRIAL WORKSHOPS.
Objects.— These workshops are open for, the relief of the tinemployed and
destitute, the object being to make it unnecessary for the homeless or workless
to be compelled to go to the Workhouse or Casual Ward, foo^ and shelter being
provided for them in exchange for work done by them, until they can procure
work'for themselves/ or.it. can be found for them elsewhere^

i ii

It
1 '

108 WORK ' FOR ' THE : OUT-OF-WORKS.-THE : FACTORY.

Plan op Operation. — AIL those applying for assistance will be placed 'itv
what is 'termed the first class. '-i'Tlicy must be willing to do any kind of work
allotted to them. While they remain in the ' first class, they shall be entitled" to
three meals a day, and shelter fur the night, and will be expected in return tu
cheerfully perform the work allotted to them.

Promotions will be made from this first-class to the second-class of all those
considered eligible by the Labour Directors. * They will, in addition to the food
and shelter above mentioned, recciyc surns of money up to 5srat the end of (the
week, for the purpose of assisting them to provide themselves with tools, to get
work outside.

Kkculations. — No smoking, drinking, bad language, or conduct* calculated
to dcinuralizc will be permitted on the factory p.rcmises. No one under the
inlluence of drink will be admitted. Any one refusing to work, or guilty of bad
coiuhict, will be required to leave the premises.

Hours ok Work.-*./ a.m. to 8.30 a.m.; 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.; 2 p.m. to 5.30 p.m.
Doors will be closed 5 minutes after 7, 9, and 2 p.m. Food Checks will be
given to all as they pass out at each meal time. Meals and Shelter provided at
272, Whitechapel Koad.

Our practical experience shows that we can provide work by v/hich
a man can earn his rations. We shall be careful not to sell the goods
so manufactured at less than tha market prices. In firewood, for
instance, we have endeavoured to be rather above the average than
below it. As stated elsewhere, we are firmly opposed to injuring
one class of workmen while helping another.

Attempts on somewhat similar lines to those now being described
have hitherto e.xcited the liveliest feelings of jealousy on the part of
the Trade Unions, and representatives of labour. They rightly
consider it unfair that labour partly paid for out of the Rates and
Taxes, or b}' Charitable Contributions, should be put upon the market
at less than market value, and so compete unjustly with the pro-
duction of those who have in the first instance to furnish an impor-
tant quota of the funds by which these Criminal or. Pauper workers
ate supported. No such jealousy can justly exist in relation to ot)
Scheme, seeing that we are endeavouring to raise the standard of
labour and are pledged to a war to the death against sweating in
every shape and form.

But, it will be asked, how do these Out-of-Works' conduct
themselves when you get them into the Factory ? Upon this point I
have a very satisfactory report to render. Many, no doubt, arc bel^AV
par, undcr-fcd, and sufTcruig from ill health, or the conseqiicnoeiol

RY.

fTHE RESULT OF PRACTICAL EXPERIMENT.

109

be placed 'in
kind of work
e entitled 'to
. in return tu |

of all those
n to the food I
ic end of (the I

tools, to get

cf calculated

e under (he

juilty of bad I

to S-30 p.m.

ccks will be

provided at |

k by v/hich I
I the goods
re wood, for
^crage tlian
to injuring!

; described
the part of
ey rightly f
Rates and I
the market I
1 the pro-
an impor-
;r workers I
on to ot)
andard of I
vcating in

•' conduct
is poiiU I
tire bcl^
q'ucnoe:ol

tlwir intemperance! Many also are old men, who have been crowded
• jutof the labour market by their younger generation, liut, without
making too many allowances on these grounds, I may fairly say that
these men have shown themselves not only anxious and willing, but
able to work. Our Factory Superintendent reports : ~

Of loss of timf there has practically hcen'nnnp sinro the opening, June 2qth.
Knch man during Ijis stay, with hardly an exrcption, has presented himself
punctually at opening time and worked more or less assiduously the whole of
the labour hours. The morals of the men have been pond, in not more than
three instances has there been an overt art of disobedience, insubordination, or
misiliief. Tlic men, as a wliolc. arc uniformly ttvil, willing, and satisHed: they
are all fairly industrious, some, ana that not a few, arc assiduous and energetic.
The Foremen have hau no serious complaints to makc-or delinquencies to report.

On the 1 5th of August 1 had a return made of the n imes and

trades and mode of employment of the men at work. Of the forty

in the shops at that moment, eight were carpenters, tv.'elve labourers,

two tailors, two sailors, three clerks, two engineers, while among the

rest was a shoemaker, two grocers, a cooper, asailmaker, a musician,

a painter, and a stonemason. Nineteen of those were employed in

•»awi ig, cutting and tying up firewood, si.\ were making mats, seven

making sacks, and the rest were employed in various odd jobs.

Among them was a Russian carpenter who could not speak a word

of English. The wliole place is a hive of industry which fills the

hearts of those who go to see it with hope that something is about

to be done to solve the difficulty of the unemployed.

Although our Factories will be permanent institutions they will not
be anything more than temporary resting-places to those who avail
themselves ot theif advantages. They are harbours of refuge into
which the storm-tossed workman may run and re-fit, so that he may
again pu.sh out to the ordinary sea of labour and earn his living.
The establishment of these Industrial Factories seems to be one of
the most obvious duties of those who would effectually deal with the
Social Problem. They are as indispensable a link in the chain of
deliverance ..^ the Shelters, but they are only a link and not a-
stopping-place. And we do not propose that they should be
regarded as anything but stepping-stones Ito better things.

These Shops will also be of service for men and women temfmrarilyj
tihemployed who have families, and who possess some sort of «
home. In numerous ihstances, if by any means these unfortunates
could ^find bread and rent for a few weeksj they would tide over

■■:■'

:■.

I.
■ '' ii

i 'I

■■'■J

MO WORK FOR THE OUT-OF-WORKS. THE FACTORY.

their difficulties, and an untold amount of misery would \y* averted.
In such cases Work would be supplied at their own homes where
preferred, especially fopthe "women and children, and such remuncra-
ifoii would be aimed at a<» would supply the immediate necessities of
the hour. To those who have rent to pay and fdmilies lo support
something beyond rations would be indispensable.

The Labour Sliops will enable us to work out our Anti-b\\ eating
experiments. For instance, we propose at once to commence manu-
facturing match boxes, for which we shall^im at giving nearly treble
the amount at present paid to the poor starving creatures engaged in
this work.

In all these workshops our success will depend upon the extent
to which we are able to establish and maintain in the minds of th^
workers sound moral sentiments and to cultivate a spirit of hope-
fulness and aspiration. We shall continually seek to impress upon
them the fact that while w* desire to feed the hungry, and clothe the
naked, and provide shelter for the shelterless, w^ aro still more
anxious to bring abou*: that regeneration of heart and life which is
essential to their future happiness and well-being

But no compu^'iion will for a moment be allowed with respect to
religion. The man who professes to love and scrv^ God will be
helped because of such profq^sion, and the man who docs not will
be helped in the hope that he will, «ooner or later, in grati-
tude to God, do the same; but ther^ w'll be no melancholy miser\-
makiiig for any. There is no sanctimonious long face in tin-
Army. We talk freely about Salvation, because it is to us
the very light and joy of our existence. We are happy, and wc
wish others to share our joy. We know by our own experience
that life is a very different thing when we have found the peace
of God, and are working together with Him for the salvation of the
world, instead of toiling for the realisation of worldly ambitioa or
the amassing of earthly gain.

Sewiok 3.— the regimentation OF THE UNEMPLOYED.

When we have got the homeless, penniless tramp v/ashed, ar.d
housed, and fed at the Shelter, and have secured him the means of
earning his fourpence by chopping firewood, or making mats or
cobbling the shoes of his fellow-labourers at the Factory, we have
next to seriously address ourselves to the problem of how to help
him to get back into the regular ranks of industry. The Shelter and
the Factory are but stepping-stones, which have this advantage, they
give us time to look round and to see what there is in a man and
what we can make of him.

The first and most obvious thing to do is to ascertain whether
there is any demand in the regular market for the labour which is
thus thrown upon our hands. In order to ascertain this ''l have
already established a Labour Bureau, the operations of which I
shall at once largely extend, at which employers can register their
needs, and workmen can register their names and the kind of work
they can do.

At present there is no labour exchange in existence in this country.
The columns of the daily newspaper are the only substitute for this much
needed register. It is one of the many painful consequences arising
from the overgrowth of cities. In a village where everybody knows
everybody else this necessity does not exist. If a farmer wants a
couple of extra men for mowing or some more women for binding
at harvest time, he runs over in his mind the na^.^s of every avail-
able person in the parish. Even in a small town there is little
difficulty in knowing who wants employment. <- But in the cities
this knowledge is not available ; hence we constantly hear of per-
sons who would be very glad to employ labour for odd jobs in an
occasional stress of work while at the same time hundreds of persons
are starving for want of work at another end of the town.%To mtt^t
this evil the laws of Supply and Demand have created theiSweathig

1'. (-.'

r '-;

I. '•

'112'_ THE REGIMENTATION OF THE UNEMPLOYED.

Midciloncn, who farm out th« unfortunarea And chavipe s6 hitAvy a
commiRsion for their share that the poor wrctehts who do thfr work
receive hardly cfiongh to fcccf> bo<^y and soul together. I prDpose
to change all this by establishing Registers which will enable us to
'ay our hands a* a moment's notice upon all the unemployed men in
a district in any particului trade. In this way we shcMjId become
the universal intermediary between those who have no employment
and those who want workmen.

In this we do not propose to supersede or interfere with the
regular Trade Unions. Where Unions exist we should place our-
selves in every casejn communication with their officials. But the
most helpless mass of misery is to be foiind among the unorganised
labourers who have no Union, and who are, therefore, the natural
prey of the middleman. Take, for instance, one of the most
wretched classes of the comnmnity, the poor fellows who per-
ambulate the streets as Sandwich Men. These are farmed out by
certain firms, If you wish to send fifty or a hundred men thron.:,'i
I ondon carrying boards announcing the excellence of your good;.,
you go to an advertising firm who will undertake to supply you
with as m,any sandwi ;!i men as you want for two shillings or hr.lf o
crown a d.iy. ' The men are forthcommg, your goods are advertised,
you pay your money, but how much of that goes to the men .<*
About one shilling, or one shilling and threepence ; the rest goes to
the middleman. I propose to supersede this middleman by forming
a Co-operative Association of Sandwich Men. At every Shelter there
would be a Sandwich Brigade ready in any numbers when wanted,
The cost of registration and organisation, which the men would
gladly pay, need not certainly amount to more than a penny in the
shilling.

All that is needed is to establish a trust,worfhy and disinterested
centre round which the unemployed can group themselves, and
which will form the nucleus of a great Co-operative Self-helping
Association. Tfie advantages of such a Bureau are obvious. But in
this, also, I do pot speak from theory. 1 have behind me the
experience of seven months of labour both in England and Australia.
Jn London we have a registration office in Upper Thames Street,
where the unemployed come every morning in droves ta register
their names and ta see whether they can obtain situations. In
Australia, I see, it was -stated in the House of Assembly t]liat our
Officer? "^ad been instrumental in finding ^cuatkms for >iiaii^ than

THE, LABOUR BUREAU AT .WORK;

,113

jbncihundrcd and thirty-two ** Out-of-W6rks " in a few'daysj llere;
ijp' London, we have succeeded in obtaining employment for^a^great
.nuinber,.^al.though/ of course, it is beyond , our power to -help r all
those who apply. We have sent hay-makers > down to the 'countryj
aind' there r is every^, reagpn 'to believe that' when our Organisation
isVJjctter .known, 'tand^- in more extended operation, we shall
have ;?a,- great: labour .exchange between town and country, so'
that .when there is scarcity in one place and congestion in anotherj
thc^ \^U be information in^mediatcly sent, so that the surplus labour
can l)e^^rafted' into those districts where labour is wanted. ^For
instance,' in the harvest seasons, with changeable weather, it is quite
a common occurrence for the crops to be seriously damaged. for want
of labourers, while at the same time there will be thousands wandering
about in the big towns and cities seeking work, but finding no one to
hire them. ;/ Extend this system all over the world, and make it not
only applicable to the transfer of workers between the towns and the
provinces, but between Country and Country, and it is impossible to
exaggerate the enormous advantages which would result. The officer
in charge of our experimental Labour Bureau sends me the following
notes as to what has already been done through the agency of the
Upper Thames Street office : — ,

SALVATION ARMY SOCIAL REFORM WING.

LABOR BUREAU.

Bureau opeiifd June i6th, 1890. The following are particulars of transactions
up to September 26tli, 1890 :-

Applications for employment— Men

Women

Applications from Employers tor Men

•• II Women

Sent to Work—Men ..1
M Women

••• •••

• •• ••• •••

Permanent Situations...

Temporary Employment, viz:— Boardmen,

Cleaners, &c., &c

,SeBt to Workshop in HaQhury Street

••* ••• •••

2462

208

2670

128

187

301
68

309

146

223

16s

.1 •

.■ i:

., I .|,

-iVr ■ ■'-'»

'■ "'^y''

. ■■! - ■ ">i t ;.

I'^V-'-V

:"i'i

SiCTioN 4.~THE HOUSEHOLD SALVAGE BRIGADE

It is obvious that, the moment you begin to find work for the un-
employed labour; of Ulie community, tio matter wliat you do by way
bf^the* registration 'and bringing together of those who Want work
and those who want workers, there will still remain a vast residuum
of.: unemployed, and itwill be the duty of those who undertake to
deal, with the question to devise means for securing them cmplpyr
ment. ^ Many /.things • are possible when there "is a directing in-
telligence at headquarters and discipline in the rank and file, which
would be utterly impossible when everyone is left to go where he
pleases, when ten men are running for one man's job, and when no
one' can be depended upon to be in the way at the time he is
wanted.rji'When my Scheme is carried out, there will be in every
populous centre a Captain of Industry, an Officer specially charged
with the ' regimentation of unorganis'ed labour, who would be con-
tinually on the alert, thinking how best to utilise the waste human
material in his district. . It is contrary to all previous experience to
suppose that the addition of so much trained intelligence will not
operate beneficially in securing the disposal of a commodity which is
at present a drug in the market.

Robertson, of Brighton, used frequently to remark tnat every
truth was built up of two apparent contradictory propositions. • In
the same way I may say that the solution of every social difficulty
is to be found in the discovery of two corresponding difficulties. \v It
is like the puzzle maps of children, .v When you are putting one
^together, you suddenly come upon some awkward piece that will not
fit in anywhere, but you do not- in disgust and despair break your
piece into fragments or throw it away. • On the contrary, you keep
itiby 3'ou, knowing that before long you will discover a numb«i^of
CMier pieces which it will be impossible to fit ^ in until* you ^iix;|5^our
cminanaMeable, unshapely piece in the centre) Now,' in.thelwbrkbf

WANTED, A NERVOUS^ SYSTEM 4FOR SOCIETY.' II6

piecing together the fragments which lie scattered around tlie base
of our social system we must not despair because we have in ult
unorganised, untrained labourers that which seems hopelessly out
of fit with every thing'around; There must be somctliing correspond-
ing to it which is equally useless until he can be brought to bear
upon it.'^*' In other words, having got one difficulty in Uie case of the
Out-of- Works, wc must cast about to find another difHculty to pair off
against it, and then out of two difficulties will arise the solution of
the problem.

Wc shall not have far to seek before we discover in every town
and in every country the corresponding element to our unemployed
labourer. We have waste labour on the one hand ; we have waste
commodities on the other. About waste land I shall speak in the
next chapter ; I am concerned now solely with waste commodities.
Herein we have a means of immediately employing a large number
of men under conditions which will enable us to permanently provide
for many of those whose hard lot we are now considering.

I propose to establish in every large town what I may call " A
Household Salvage Brigade," a civil force of organised collectors,
who will patrol the whole town as regularly as the policeman, who
will have their appointed beats, and each of whom will be entrusted
with the task of collecting the waste of the houses in their circuit.
In small towns and villages this is already done, and it will be
noticed that most of the suggestions which I have put forth in this
book are based upon the central principle, which is that of restoring
to the over-grown, and, therefore, uninformed masses of population
in our towns the same intelligence and co-operation as to the mutual
wants of each and all, that prevails in your small town or village.
•The latter, is the manageable unit, because its dimensions and its
heeds have not put-grown the range of the individual intelligence
and.:ability. of -f those who dwell therein. * Oar troubles in large
towns ^ arise' chiefly from the fact that the massing of population
has caused the physical bulk of Society to outgrow its intelligence.
It is as if a human being had suddenly developed fresh limbs which
were not connected by any nervous system with the gray matter of
his. brain^f Such a thing is impossible in the Immao bieing^ but,
unfortunatiely, ' it is only too possible in human society. '"- In the
human .bbidy i>o member can sufier without an instantaneous telo-
grainrj:^ng^ despatched, as it ^were, to the seat of intelligence; the
!fOQ£iQrl the 1 finger ^ crie^iowtlwheni it„ suffersi^and^ the^whole body

116

THE HOUSEHOLD SALVAGE :i BRIGApE.

. — °^ — — • >»>iii

suffers with 'it! ■ „ So, in a small community, every one, rich and pcor,
is more or less cognizant of tbc sufTcrings of tlie-community. lifa
largg town, where people have ceased to "be neighbourly, there- is
only a congested nias<» of imputation settled down on a ccrtay) small
area without auy huniaij tics connecting' tbcm togetlvcr. '* Here,
it is perfectly possible, and it frequently happens, that^ men
actually , die of starvation within a few doors; of- thoae Vwho,
if they had been informed of the * actual- condition -of the
suflcrcr that lay within earshot of their comfortable drawing-
rooms, would have been eajjcr to minister the needed relief. • What
we have to do, therefore, is to grow a new nervous system for the
body politic, to create a swift, almost automatic, means of communi-
cation between the community as a whole and the meanest of its
members, so as lo restore to the city what the village possesses.

I do not say that the • plan%hich I have suggested is the only
plan or the best plan conceivable. All that I claim for it is that it
is the only plan wliich I- can conceive as practicable at the present
moment, and that, as a matter of fact, it holds the field alone, for no
one, so (hr as I hav^bcen able to discover, even proposes toreconsti-
tutc the connection between what 1 have called the gray matter of
the brain of the municipal community and all 'the individual units
wlUch make up the body politic. '

Gari'ying out the same idea 'I>comc to tne problem of the waste
commodities of the towns, and wc will take this as an earnest of the
working out of the generalkprinciple. In the villages there is very
little wajjtc. "v^ Tiic sewage is applied directly to the land, and so
becomes a 'source of wealth instead ,x)f; being emptied into great
subterranean '^ reservoirs, ' to generate^jpoisonous gases, which by a
most ingenious"! arrangement,"^ are v. then,' poured,, focth into the
very heart of our dwellings,*as., js the case in tlj^e great cities.
Neither is there any, waste jofa-- broken Yictuals.'^-'The 'villi^ger
has ■ his , pig • or . bis poultry, or ir^ihejjhas '".not a pig his
neighbour has one, and • the -colleetion7o.fi:.brq|^ien victuals is con-
ducted as regularly as the delivery of the post.'-'*f And as it is with
brcdcen victuals, so it is with' rags and bones, and old iron, and all
the d^is of a household. flWhen I .was a boy one of the most
familiar figures in the streets of a country town was the man, who,
with his small hand-barrow- or. donkey-cart, made a- rcgfular patrol
through all the streets once a week,- collecting rags^^ones,' and all
other waste matenals,^1)uying^ the . same >(rom:«theJ^)iyeniIeft.iwho

ind poor,
ty. Irfa
, there-is
ajf) small

''^Herc,
lat I men
ae who,

of the
drawing-
; • What
n for the
ommuni-
st of its
ses.

the only
3 that it

present
c, for no
reconsti-
iiatter of
lal units

le waste
St of the
is very
and so
o great
:h by a
nto the
t cities,
villijger
pig his
is con-
is with
and ajl
le most
n, who,
r patrol
and all
eftiwho

HOW TO DEAL WITH LONDON.

117

collected them in specie, not of Her Majesty's current coin, but of
common sweetmeats, known as " claggum " or " taffy.'* Wlien the
tootling of his familiar horn was heard the cliildrcn would bring
out their stores, and trade as best they could with the ifincrant
merchant, with the result that the closets which in our towns to-day
have become the receptacles of all kinds of disused lumber wcra
kept then swept and garnished. Now, what I want to know is why
can we not establish on a scale commensurate with our extended
needs the rag-and-bone industry in all our great towns ? That there ir.
::ufncient to pay for the collection is, I think, indisputable. If it paid
in a small North-country town or Midland village, why would it not
pay much better in an area where the houses stand more closely
iogether, and where lujcurious living and thriftless habits have so
increased that there must be proportionately far more breakage,
more waste, and, therefore, more collectable matter than in the niral
distrirts ? In looking over the waste of London it has occurred to
me that in the debris of our households there is sufficient food, il
utilised, to feed many of the starving poor, and to employ aomc
thousands of them in its collection, and. in addition, largely to assist
the general scheme.

What I propose would be to go to work on something like the
following plan : —

London would be divided into districts, beginning with that port-
tion of it most likely to furnish the largest supplies of what would be
worth collection. Two men, or a man and a bov. would be told ofi
for this purpose to this district.

Households v/ould be requested to allow a receptacle to be placed
in some convenient spot in which the servants could deposit the
waste food, and. a sack of some description would also be supplied
for the paper, rags, &c.

The whole would be collected, say once or tv;ice a week, or more
frequently, according to the season and circumstances, and transferred
to depdts as central as possible to the different districts.

At present much of this waste is thrown into the dust-bin, there
to fester and breed disease. Then there are old newspapers, ragged
books, old bottles, tins, canisters, etc. We all know what a number
of articles there aro which are not quite bad enough to be thrown
into the dust heap, and yet are no good to us. "We put
them on one side, hoping that sorn 'filing may turn up, and
as that something very seldom does turn up, there they, remain.

(.,,;

I'J

118

TftE "hojseholoIsalvageTbrigade:

Crippled musical instrumcnts7 for' inst,ancc,'*x>ld~toys,'^broken-down
perambulators, old clothes, all the things,* in ■short, for which we
have no more need, and for which there .is no, market within" our
reach, but which we feel it would be a sin and a shame to destroy.

When I get my Household Salvage Brigade properly organised,"
beginning, as J said, in some district where we should be likely to
meet with most matdrial, our uniformed collectors 'would call every
other day or twice a week with their hand barrow or pony cart. j;^. As
these men would be under strict discipline,' and numbered, the house-
holder would have a security against any abuse of which such
regular callers might otherwise be the occasion.

At present the rag and bone man who drives a more or less pre-
carious livelihood by intermittent visits, is looked upon askance by
prudent housewives. They fear in many cases he takes the refuse
in order to have the opportunity of finding something which may be
worth while " picking up," and should he be impudent or negligent
there is no authority to whojn they can appeal. Under our Brigade,
each district would have its numbered officer, who would himself be
subordinate to a superior officer, to whom any complaints could be
made, and whose duty it would be to sec that the officers under his
command punctually performed their rounds and discharged their
duties without offence.

Here let me disclaim any intention of interfering with the Little
Sisters of the Poor, or any other persons, who collect the broken
victuals of hotels and other establishments for charitable purposes.
My object is not to poach on my neighbour's domains, lior shall I
ever be a party to any contentious quarrels for the control of this or
that source of supply. All that is already utilised I regard .is outside
my sphere. The unoccupied wilderness of waste is a wide enough
area for the operations of our Brigade. But it will be found in
practice that there are no competing agencies. While the broken
victuals of certain large hotels are regularly, collected, the things
before enumerated, and a number of others, are untouched because not
sought after.

Of the immense extent to which Food is wasted few people have
any notion except those who have vnjxde actual expcrvments. . Some
y«ai» .ago, Lady Wolseley established a system of collection from
house to house in May fair, in order to secure materials for a
charitable kitchen which, in concert with Baroness Burdett-Coutts, she
had:: started at Westminster. Ihc a.iiount of the food which ^shc,

vri

an^

th|

of-t

inc

byj

wi|

dirl

WASTE FOOD AND OLD CLOTHES.

110

gathered was enormous. Somctiines legs of mutton from which only
one or two slices had been cut were thrown into the tub, where they
waited for the arrival of the cart on its rounds. ; It is by no means
an excessive estimate to assume that the waste of the kitchens of
the West End yrould provide a sufficient sustenance for all the Out-
of- Works who will be employed in our labour sheds /■ at the
industrial centres. All that it needs is collection, prompt, systematic,
by disciplined men who can be relied upon to discharge their task
with punctuality and civility, and whose failure in this duty can be
directly b.rought to the attention of the controlling authority.

Of the utilisation of much of the food which is to be so collected I
shall speak hereafter, when I come to describe the second great
division of my scheme, namely the Farm Colony. Much of the food
collected by the Household Salvage Brigade would not be available
for human consumption. In this the greatest care would be exercised,
and the remainder would be dispatched, if possible, by barges down
the river to the Farm Colony, where we shall meet it hereafter.

But food is only one of the materials which we should handle.
At our Whitechapel Factory there is one shoemaker whom we picked
off the streets destitute and miserable. He is now saved, and
happy, and robbles away at the shoe leather of his mates. That
shoemaker, i foresee, is but the pioneer of a whole army of shoe-
makers constantly at work ni repairing the cast-oft' boots and shoes
of London. Already in some provincial towns a great business is
done b;' the conversion of old shoes into new. They call the men
so employed translators. Boots and shoes, as every wearer of
them knows, do not go to pieces all at once or in all parts at once.
The sole often wears out utterly, while the upper leather is quite
good, or the upper leather bursts while the sole remains prnrtically
in a salvnble condition : but your individual pair of shoes and boots
arc no good to you when any section of them is hopelessly gone to
the bad. . But give our trained artist in leather and his army of
assistants a couple of thousand pairs of boots and shoes, and it will
go ill wjth him if out of the couple of thousand pairs ojF wrecks he
cannot construct five, hundred pairs, which, if '.not quite good, will
be immeasurably better than the apol^ifies for boot^ which cover
the feet of many a poor tramp, to say nothing of the^ thousands of
poor children who are at tlie present moment attending our> public
•ichools. ;^ In some towns they have already established a.. Boot and
SliocFund in.order^tovprovide.the little ones -who- come to^chool

I i

" ii

■■'!

15p

THe- HOUSEHOLD" SALVAGE BRIGADE.

with shoes warranted not^to let in water.^between the school house
aiid home.^K Wh en '?you 'remember the 43,000 children 'who arc
reported by the SchooIBoard to attend the'schools of London alone
unfed and starving,.doyou'"'not'r think there are many thousands to
whomlwe could xasily dispose, with advantage, the resuirected shoes
of our 13oot Factory ;?

This, howcver^^is only.?, one.-, branch, of ^ industry. Take old
umbrellas.'}!, W^ till /know:vthe"? itinerant umbrella mender, whose
appearance in the "neighbourhood of. the 'farmhouse leads the good
wife to look after her^r poultry ajid to see well to it that the watch-
dog is on the prcmises.ikJ^ But' that gentleman is almost the only
agency by which old umbrellas tan be rescued from the dust licap.
Side by side with our Boot Factory v/e shall have a great umbrella
works. The ironwork of one umbrella will be fitted to the stick of
another, and even from those that are too hopelessly gone for any
further use as umbrellas we shall find plenty of use for their steels
and whalebone..' "

So I might go on. ; Bottles are a fertile source of minor domestic
worry. - When'you buy a bottle you have to pay a penny for it ;
but v/hen you have emptied it you cannot get a penny back ; no, nor
even a farthing.^^jYou -throw your empt}' bottle either into the dust
heap, or let it lie about. *>' But if we could collect all the waste bottles
of London 'every day,r it would go hardly wilh us if we could not
turn a very pretty penny by washing them, sorting them, and send-
ing them out on a new lease of hfe. ''•The washing of old bottles
alone will keep a considerable number of people going. '

I can imagine the. objection which will be raised by «omc short-
sighted people, that by giving the old, second-hand material a new
lease of life it will be said that -.we shall diminish the demand for
new material, and • so curtail Work and wages at one f;^d while we
arc endeavouring to piece oii' something at the other. ' This objec-
tion reminds me pf a remark ; of \a North Country pilot who, when
spea]<ii,i^;^pf "|[hQ54w^"Css in -the shipbuilding industry, said tliat
3^ot])iD8^^\vould :do?,any good but a serieg. of heavy storms, which
would send a goodly number of oceailVgoing steamers to the bottom,
to replace whichj this politicaL economist thoughl, the yards would
once more be filldd with, orders. -VThis, liovvever, is not the way in
which work is supplied. Economy is a great auxihary^to trade,
inasmuch as the money saved is expended on other. products of
industry^

ClfESTOXS^OR^TJtlETJVIimiOfiBv

H I ; i »» * !■ II r 111 V - .. m ,:.m-^

121

Tliefe* is^

■ one material that
whMfttiis t'fte despair

is coiitinaally increasing i vi iqoBOitity;
c iife'*6f the housr.holder.and oi' the l<ocal
S$hi1«ir]fc-Auih<srrty. I ^rofer to the tins in. which provisions, are
supplied; Nowadays 'everything- comes Tto'^'Us in tins. We .have
coffee tins, meat tins, sahnon tins;-,and" tins"h</ «a«sfa;;;. Tin is
becoming more flhd TtTofe ,the';xiniversaj envelbpeV.of the rations of
man. i^'But when yoi/ti4¥6'' extracted the contents of. the .tin what
can y5u do with it? jl^^fe mountains of tmpty.tinsjie aboutr every
dustyard, for as yet "no man has discovered a means of.utilising them
when in great masses. ; Their market price is about four or.- live
shillings a ton, but they .stre so light that it .would take half a dozen
trucks to hold a ton.^They formerly buftit .them for the sakt. of the
solder,' but now, by a new process, they are jointed without solder.
The problem of the utilisation of. the tins is one to which we would
have to address ourselves.* and I am by no mfeahsl desponding as to
the result.

I see in the old tins" of London at least ohe means of establishing
an industry which is at present almost monopolised by our. neigh-
bours. .-Most of the toys which are sold in France on New Year's
Day are. almost entirely made of Vsa^dine tins collected- in the JTrehch
capitali^The toy market-bf .England is ^at present :f^rrTrom being
QverstdckiEiy, for there, afe multitudes of children>)vHb.have no toys
.Vorth;:speaking of with which to amuse themselves.^ In these «mpty
tinS.I see a means of employing a large number of pejpplejn turning
out cheap toys which will, add, a^ncw joy to^'the^hoUBehold^^ofithe
poor — the poor to whom .every farthing is irifportarit, not the rich —
the rich can always get toys — but the children of .tbe poor, .who live
in one room and have nothing to Jock: out upbti but the slunuor the
street. . These desolate little things nee.d our. toys, and if supplied
cheap enough they will take, them in sufiffcient quantities to make it
worth wliile to manufacture them

A whole book .might be written concerning the utilisation of the
waste of London. But 1 am not going to write one. .^s. I hope before
long to do something much better than write avb8«r, nam*^y,j:to
establish all organisation to utilise the Vtraste, d^d then Tf^.I dcfecribe
what is being done it will be much better than; liy-tiow explaining
what I propose, to- do. ' But there is one ..more waste material to
which it is necessary to allude. L refer to old^:new.~paperSviaftd
magazines, and books. ^-f! Newspapers accumulate in our houses-)\lntil
wc somctiraes-buro-thenvJarsheer disp;ust. Magazines and old books

-;:ii

'I'i; i

^1 /'• ' •■

i
i

1;
''i'

I A

122

Xjjg JiP^gHOLp SALVAQE BRIQADE.V

v-i/i...^-

luTnlitr our shelves undl we '^hardly know, where to turn to put a
new volume. »> My Brigade will relieve the householder from these
difficulties, and thereby become a gp'eat distributing agency of cheap
hterature. After -the magazine has done its duty in the middle
class household it ca^i. be passed on to the reading-rooms, work-
houses, and hospitals. - Every publication issued from the Press
that is of the slightest use to men and women will, by our Scheme,
acquire a double share of usefulness. It will be read first by its
owner, and then by many people whp would never otherwise see it

We shall establish an immense second-hand book shop. All the
best books that come into our hands will be exposed for sale, not
merely at our central depots, but on the barrows of our peripatetic
colporteurs, who will go from street to street with literature which,
I trust, will be somewhat superior to the ordinary pabulum supplied
to the poor. After we have sold all we could, and given away all
that is needed to public institutions, the reiuainder will be carried
down to our great Paper Mill, of which we shall speak later, in
connection with our Farm Colony.

The Household Salvage Brigade will constitute an agency capable
of being utilised to any extent for the distribution of parcels
newspapers, &c. When once you have your' reliable man who will
call at every house with the regularity of a postman, and go his beat
with the punctuality of a policeman, you can do great things with
him. I do not need to elaborate this point. It will be a universal
Corps of Commissionaires, created foi- the service of the public and
in the interests of the poor, which will bring us into direct relations
with every family in London, and will therefore constitute an
unequalled medium for the distribution of advertisements and the
collection of information.

It does not require a very fertile imagination to see that when
such a house-to-house visitation is regularly established, it will
develop in all directions ; add working, as it would, in connection
with our Apti-sweating Shops and Indystrial Colpny, woirfd pxpbably
soon become th<s jmediup (qr negotiating suoilry l^u%eholci rtfUMrft,
from a broken wiij^oir ta a. dairiage^ at^kifUKr If 4t ptPiter were

^»^ ^ ^E^^JWS^^il?f'9m''^9^^^ ^^!^f^ to 4p ch5M3Pf , or some
one to a)eaiii^iif^ws^«riany;^t^r odd job, the ublqukous Servant of
All who called for the waste, either verbally or by po9$Gard,~W0Cild re-
ceive the order, and whoever was wanted would appear at^th'e time
desired without any further trouble on the part of the householder.

'rr;

THT^UESTION^OF COST/

123

One word as to the cost.^ There are five hundred^thousan(iJntbuses
in the Metropolitan Police district. - To supply every house with a
tub and a sack for the reception of waste would involve an initial ex-
penditure which could not possibly be less than one shilling a house.
So huge is London, and so enormous the numbers with which we shall
have to deal, that this simple preliminary would require a cost of
;^25,cxx>. Of course I do not propose to begin on anything like such
a vast scale. That sum, which is only one of the many expenditures
involved, will serve to illustrate the extent of the operations which
the Household Salvage Brigade will necessitate. The enterprise
is therefore *beyond the reach of any but a great and powerful
organisation, commanding capital and able to secure loyalty,
disciplin<^ and willing service.

■:.'t

1 1-

Ispme

Int of
id re-
time

CHAPTER III. \^

TO THE COUNTRY !~THE FARM COLONY.

I leave on one side for a moment various features of the operations
which will be indispensable but subsidiary to the City Colony, such
as the Rescue Homes for Lost Women, the Retreats for Inebriates, the
Homes for Discharged Prisoners, the Enquiry Office for the Discovery
of Lost Friends and Relatives, and the Advice Bureau, which will, in
time, become an institution that will be invaluable as a poor man's
Tribune. All these and other suggestions for saving the lost and
helping the poor, although they form essential elements of the City
Colony, will be better dealt with after I have explained the relation
which the Farm Colony will occupy to the City Colony, and set forth
the way in which the former will act as a feeder to the Colony;,Over
Sea.

i have already described how I propose to deal, in- the first 'ciase^
with the mass of surplus labour which will infallibly accumulate on
our hands as soon as the Shelters are more extensively established
and in good working order, r. But I fully recognise . that when all has
been done that can be done in the direction of disposing of the
unhired men and women of the town, there ,will still remain many
whom you can neither employ in the Household Salvage
Brigade, nor for whom employers, be they registered never so care-^
fulh , can be found. What, then, must be done witli them ?^>The
answer to that question seems to me obvious. ..They must go upon
the land I

The land is the source of all food; only by the applicatidtt tSf
labour can the land be made fully productive.. Th?re is any amount
of waste land in the world, not far away in distant XbftTinenls, Jiext

or to the North Pole, but here at our very doors. ■ Have you ever

'culated, for " 'ance, the square miles^pf unused land which fdng||
'. I - & sides, of .all our railroads .? No doubt some-embankments are oi

Eiwpnwi

•THE LAND IS WO^TH ' CULtlVATtNG.

»6S

material that wouJdbafne"the-cultivating'''5killV«f?a GhinQge of the
careful.husbandry of a^Swiss moyptajneer; .'but^thcse are je^ccptions;
When- bther'ivpeople«;^al.k of reclaimingVS^li§bury Pl^ic, or pf
cultivating the -bare iAnoo'rlands of the rbiealc' Tfprlh, I think- of the
hundreds of square miles. of lanc^ thatJie in^.long'ribbons on the side
of each of^our; railways, upon which,^withou^-any cost for cartage,
innumerable tons of City manure could be shot' down, and the crjops
of which could be carried at once^to the nearest market without^iny
but the initial cost r of: •-heaping<- into 'convenient -trucks. Thc?.c
railway embankments* constitute a vast estate, capable of growing
fruit enough to supply all the jam that Crosse and Blackwell ever
boiled. In. almost every county in England are vacant' farms, and,
in still greater numbers, farms but a quarter cultivated, which only
need the application of an industrious population v/orking with due
incentive to produce twicej jfhrice, and four times as much as they
yield to-day.

I am aware- that there are few subjects upon which - there are
such fierce. %controversies as 'the possibilities^ of ^making-".- a Jivjeii-
hood out :i)f smair^^lioldings, ' but" • Irish •4cottiers -do'*it,'^"and
in ' regions infinitely worse adapted for ; the purpose than
our Essex corn lands, and possessing none of the advantages which
civilization and co-operation place at the command of an intelligently
directed body of husbandmen.' ' Talk about the land not being worth
cultivating ! Go to the Swiss Valleys and examine for j'ourself the
miserable patches of land, hewed out as it were from the heart of the
granite mountains, where the cottager grows his crops and makes a
livelihood. No doubt he has his Alp, where his cows pasture in
summer-time, and his other occupations which enable him to supplement
the scanty yield of his^ farm garden among the crags; but if it pays
the Swiss mountaineer in the midst of the eternal snows, far removed
iVom any marke!, to cultivate such miserable soil in the brief summer,
of the high Alps, it is impossible to believe that Englishmen, working
on English soil, close to our rharkets and enjoying all the advantages
of co-operation, cannot earn their daily bread by their daily toil]
The soil of England is not unkindly, and although much is said
against our climate, it is, as .Mr. RusseH Lowell observes, aftetf a
lengthened experience of many countries and many climes, " the besc
climate in the whole world for the labouring man." There are more
days in the English year on which a man. can work out- nfi
doors with a spade, with comparative comfort than in/'<9tiijf

,:i

1 1.

!!■!■

126

TO THE COUNTRY l-THE FARM COLONY;^,

otlier country under heaven, v I do not say that men will make a
fortune out of the land, nor do' I pretend that we can, under the grey
English skies, hope ever to vie with the productiveness of the Jersey
farms ; but I am prepared to maintain against all comers that.^^it is
possible for an industrious man to grow his rations, provided he is
given a spade with which to dig and land to dig in.^'; Especially
WAf^this be the case. with intelligent direction and the advantagefs of
co-operation.

Is it not a reasonable supposition? It always seems tome a
strange thing that men should insist that you must first transport
your labourer thousands of miles to a desolate, bleak country in
order to set him to work to extract a livelihood from the soil when
hundreds of thousands of acres lie only half tilled at home or not
tilled at all. Is it reasonable to think that you can only begin to
make a living out of land when it lies several thousand miles from
the nearest market, and thoi^sands of miles from the place where the
labourer has to buy his tools and procure all the necessaries of life
which are not g^own on the spot ? If a man can make squatting
pay on the prairies or in Australia, where every quarter of grain
which he produces has to be dragged by locomotives across the
railways jf the continent, and then carried by steamers across the
wide ocean, can he not equally make the operation at least sufficiently
profitable to keep himself alive if you plant him with the same soil
within an hour by rail of the greatest markets in the world ?

The answer to this is, that you cannot give your man as much
soil as he has on the prairies or in the Canadian lumber lands.
This, no doubt, is true, but the squatter who settles in the Canadian
backwoods does not clear his land all at once. He lives on a small
portion of it, and goes on digging and delving little by little, until,
after many years of Herculean labour, he hews out for himself, and
his children after him, a freehold estate. Freehold estates, I admit,
are not to be had for the picking up on English soil, but if a man
will but work in England as they work in Canada or in Australia,
he will find as little difficulty in making a livelihood here as there. •

I may be wrong, but when I travel abroad and see the desperate
struggle on the part of peasant proprietors and the small holders in
mountainous districts for an additional patch of soil, the idea ot
cuitivating which would make our agricultural labourers turn up tbisir
noses in speechless contempt, I cannot but think that our Enj^liish
soil could carry a far gi«ater number of souls to the acre than

THE FARM PROPER.

127

which it bears at present. Suppose, for instance, that Essex were
fiu'^'denly to find itself unmoored from its English anchorage and
towed across the Channel to Normandy, or, not to imagine miracles,
suppose that an Armada of Chinese were to make a descent on the
Isle of Thanet, as did the sea-kings, Hengist and Horsa, does any-
one imagine for a moment that Kent, fertile and cultivated as it is,
would not be regarded as a very Garden of rJden out of the odd
corners of which our yellow-skinned invaders would contrive to
extract sufficient to keep themselves in sturdy health ? I only
suggest the possibility in order to bring out clearly the fact that the
difficulty is not in the soil nor in the climate, but in the lack of
application of sufficient labour to sufficient land in , the truly
scientific way.

" What is the scientific way ? " I shall be asked impatiently. I
am not an agriculturist ; I do not dogmatize. I have read much
from many pens, and have noted the experiences of many colonies,
and I have learned the lesson that it is in the school of practical
labour that the most valuable knowledge is to be obtained.
Nevertheless, the bulk of my proposals are based upon the
experience of many who have devoted their lives to the study of
the subject, and have been endorsed by specialists whose experience
gives them authority to speak with unquestioning confidence.

much

lands.

ladian

small

|until,

", and

[dmit,

man

[ralia,

ire. '

[erate

's in

la ot

their

iHsh

SlCTiON 1.— THE FARM PROPER.

My present idea is to take an estate from five hundred to a
thousand acres within reasonable distance of London. It should be of
such land as will be suitable for market gardening, while having some
clay on it for brick-making and for crops requiring a heavier soil.
If possible, it should not only be on a line of railway which is
managed by intelligent and progressive directors, but it should have
access to the sea and to the river. It should be freehold land, and
it should lie at some considerable distance from any town or village.
The reason for the latter desideratum is obvious. We must be near
London for the sake of our market and for the transmission of the
commodities collected by our Household Salvage Brigade, but it
must be some little distance from any town or village in order
that the Colony may be planted clear out in the open away from the
public house, that upas tree of civilisation. A sine qud non o( the
new Farm Colony is that no intoxicating liquors will be permitted
within its confines on any pretext whatever. The ''doctors will have
to prescribe some other stimulant than alcohol for residents in this
Colony. But it will be little use excluding alcohol with a strong
Kand and by cast-«ron regulations if the Colonists have only to take
d short walk in order to find themselves in the midst of the " Red
I-ions," and the " Blue Dragons," and the " George the Fourths,"
which abound in every country town.

Having obtained the land I should proceed to prepare it for the
Colonists. This is an operation which is essentially the same in any
country. You need water supply, provisions and shelter. /^AU
this would be done at first in the simplest possible style. Our
pioneer brigade, carefully selected from the competent Out-of-Works
in the City Colony, would be sent down to lay out the estate and
prepare it for those who would come after. :-'^" And here let me say
that it is a great delusion to imagine that in the riffraff and waste of
the labour market there are no workmen to be had except those that
are worthless. Worthless under the present conditions, exposed to
constant J temptations to intemperance no doubt they are, but some of
the brightest merv in London, with some of the smartest pairs of
hands, and the <:levcpcsH brains, are at the present moment weltering
hclpiessljyni^{he_ sludge^^^pm which zwe propose to (.rescue .them.

'r*

IN-"PRAI3E"'OF

TOMMY ^ATKfMS;

fr^

■tias{

■**-•

the
any
•'AU
Our
orks
and
say
e of
that
d to
of
s of
|ring
iem.

1 am .not .speaking \vithout book ib this nutttef^ iSome of my. beV6
Officers to-day have been even such ^as ^y. Inhere it ait infinite!
potentiality of capacity lymg Jatent in our Provincial Tap-rooms
and the City Gin Palaces if you can but get them soundly sayedj.
and even short of that, if you can place them in conditions where
they would no longer be liable to be sucked back into, their old
disastrous habits, you may do great things with them.

I can well imagine the incredulous laughter which will greet "my
proposal. "What," it will be said, "do you think that you can
create agricultural pioneers out of the scum of Cockneydom ? " Let
us look for a moment at the ingredients which make up what you
call " the scum of Cockneydom." After careful examination and
close cross-questioning of the Out-of- Works, whom we have already
registered at our Labour Bureau, we find that at least sixty per cent;
are country folk, men, women, boys, and girls, who have left theiii
homes in the counties to come up to town in the hope of bettering
themselves. They are in no sense of the word Cockneys, and they
represent not the dregs °ot the country but rather its brighter and
more adventurous spirits who have boldly tried to make their way
in new and uncongenial spheres and have terribly come to grief. Of
thirty cases, selected haphazard, in the various Shelters during the
week ending July 5th, 1890, twenty-two were country-born, sixteen
were men who had come up a long time ago, but did not ever seem
lo have settled to regular employ, and four were old military men.
Of. sixty cases examined into ."it the Bureau and Shelters during the
fortnight ending August 2nd, forty-two were country people ; twenty-
six men who had been in London for various periods, ranging from
six months to four years ; nine were lads under eighteen, who had
run away from home and come up to town ; while four were
ex-military. Of eighty-five cases of dossers who were spoken to at
night when they slept in the streets, sixty-three were country people.
A very small proportion of the genuine homeless Out-of-Works are
Londoners bred and born.

There is another element in the matter, the existence of which
will be news to most people, and that is the large proportion of
ex-military men who are among the helpless, hopeless destitute.!
Mr. Arnold White, after spending many months in the streets of
London interrogating more fhan four thousand men whom he found
in the course of one bleak winter sleeping out of doors like animals
returns it as his^ conviction that at least 20 per ..cent. ^ are. Army

^ !■:

'130

THE' FARM 'PftOPER.

■■>»■

Reserve men.-.' Twenty per cent iVThat is to say one man in every
five with whom Sve. shall have to deal has served Her Majesty the
Queen under the colours. . This is the resource to which these poor
fellows come after they have given the f>rime of their lives to the
service of their country. ^ Although this may be largely brought about
by their own ' thriftless and evil conduct, .it is a scandal and dis-
grace which may well make the check of the patriot tingle. Still,
I see in it a great resource. ' A man who has been in the Queen's
Army is a ' man who has learnt to obey. - He is further a man
who has been taught in the roughest of rough schools to be handy
and smart, to make the best of the roughest fare, and not to consider
himself a martyr if he is' sent on a forlorn hope. I often say if we
could only get Christians to 'have one-hair of the practical devotion
and sense of duty that animates even the commonest Tommy Atkins
what a change would be brought about in the world !

Look at poor Tommy ! ^'*A country lad who gets himself into some
scrape, runs away from home, finds himself sinking lower and lower,
vyjlh no hope of employment, no friends to advise him, and no one to
give him' a helping hand.il^Ih shedr.'despair he takes the Queen's
shilling and enters the ranks. 'He is handed over to an inexorable
drill sergeant, he is compelled to room in' barracks j,' where privacy
is unknown, to mix with men, many 'of them vicious,^ few . of them
companions whom.he would of his- own ^choice select. ' He gets his
rations, and although he is told; he will -get a '^shilling a day, there
are so many stoppages' that he often does not -finger a shiHing a
week.'f" He is drilled and worked and ordered hither and thither as
if he 'were a machine, all of which he takes cheerfully, without even
considering that there is any hardship in his lot, plodding on in a
dull, stolid kind of way for his Queen and his country, doing his
best, also, poor chap, to be proud of his red uniform, and to cultivate
his self-respect by reflecting that he is one ^ of the ■ defenders of his
native land, one of the heroes upon whose . courage and endurance
depends. the safety of the British realm.

Some; fine day at the other- end of the v;orld some prancing
pro-consul '-'finds it necessary to smash one of the man-slaying
machines > that loom ominous on his borders, or some savage
potentate makes an incursion into territory of a British colony, or
some fierce outburst of. Mahommedan fanaticism raises up a Mahd*
in mid-Africa. In a moment Tommy Atkins is marched off to the
troop-ship, and swept across the seas, heart-sick r and sea-sick^

THE SETTLERS ON THE FARM.

131

:ing
Mng

rage
or

the

nnd miserable exceedingly, to fight the Queen's enemies in foreign
parts. When he arrives there he is bundled ashore, brigaded wiiK
other troops, marched to the front ihrougli the blistering glare of a
tropical sun over poisonous marshes in which his comrades sicken
and die, until at last he is drawn up in square to receive the charge
of tens of thousands of ferocious savages. P'ar away from all
who love him or care for him, foot-sore and travel weary, having
eaten perhaps but a piece of dry bread in the last twenty-four hours,
he must stand up and kill or be killed. Often he falls beneath the
thrust of an assegai or the slashing broadsword of- the charging
enemy. Then, after the fight is over his comrades turn up the sod
where he lies, bundle his poor bones into the shallow pit, and
leave him without even a cross to mark his solitary grave. Perhaps
he is fortunate and escapes. Yet Tommy goes uncomplainingly
through all tlicse hardships and privations, docs not think himself
a martyr, takes no fine airs about what lie has done and suffered,
and shrinks uncomplainingly into our Slicltcrs and our Factories,
only asking as a benediction from heaven that someone will
r.;ive him an honest job of work to do. ' That is the fate of Tommy
Atkins. If in our churches and chapels as much as ' one single
individual were to bear and dare, for the benefit of his kind and the
salvation of men, what a hundred thousand Tommy Atkins' bear
untomplainingly, taking it all as if it were in the day's work, for their
rations and their shilling a day (with stoppages), think you we
should not transform the whole face of the world ? Yea, verily.
We find but very little of such devotion ; no, not in Israel.

I look forward to making great use of these Army Reserve men.
There are engineers amongst them ; there are artillery men and
infantry ; there are cavalry men, who know what a horse needs to
keep him in good health, and men of the transport department, for
v>^hom I shall find work enough to do in the transference of the
multitudinous waste of London from our town Depots to the outlying
Farm. This, however, is a digression, by the way.

After having got the Farm into some kind of ship-shape, we should
select from the City Colonies all those who were likely to be
successful as our first settlers. ''' These would consist of men who
had been working so many weeks or days in the Labour Factory, or
had been under observation for a reasonable time at the Shelters
or io the Slums, and who had given evidence of their willingness to
.work, their amenity to discipline, and their a. ii>ition to improve

I I

132

THE, FARM PROPER.

.-*•• • •«'

themselves. On arrival at the Farm they would be installed in a
harraoks, and at once told off to work. In winter time there wouM
be draining, and road-making, and fencing, and many other forms of
industry which could go on when the days are short and the nights
are long. In Spring, Summertime and Autumn, some would be
employed on the land, chiefly in spade husbandry, upon what is
called the system of " intensive " agriculture, such as prevails in
the suburbs of Pans, where the market gardeners literally create
the soil, and which yields much greater results than when yoi'
merely scratch the surface with a plough.

Our Farm, I hope, would be as productive as a great market garden
There would be a Superintendent on the Colony, who would be
a practical gardener, familiar with the best methods of small
agriculture, and everything that science and experience shows to be
needful for the profitable treatment of the land. Then there would
be various other forms of industry continually in progress, so that
employment could be furnished, adapted to the capacity and skill of
every Colonist. Where farm buildings are wr.nted, the Colonists must
erect them themselves. If they want glass houses, they must put
them up. Everything on the Estate must be the production of the
Co'onists. Take, for instance, the building of cottages. After the
first detachment has settled dovv-n into its quarters and brought the
fields somewhat into cultivation, there will arise a demand for
houses. These houses must be built, and the bricks made by the
Colonists themselves. AH the crapcntcring and the joinery will be
done on the premises, and by this means a sustained demand for
work will be created. Then there would be furniture, clothing,, and
a great many other wants, the supply of the whole of which would
create labou- which the Colonists must perform.

For a long time to come the Salvation Army will be able to con-
sume all the vegetables and crops which the Colonici will produce
That is one advantage of being connected with so great and groov-
ing a concern ; the right hand will help the Itft, and we shall lie
able to do many things which those who devote themselves ex-
clusively to colonisation would find it impossible to accomplish.
We have seen the large quantities of provisions which are required
to supply the Food Depots in their present dimensions, and with the
coming extensions the consumption will be enormously augmented.

On this Farm I propose to carry on Qveiy description oi " little
agriculture..'

«■

I'C
L'C-

Ih.
id
;c

tie

A TRAINING SCHOOL FOR EMIGRANTS.

133

I have not yet relcrred to the female »id<» of our operations, but
have reserved them for another chapter. U is necessary, Iiowcvcr,
lo bring them in here in order to explain that employment will be
created for women as well as men Fruit farming affords a great
opening for female labour, and it will indeed be a change as
from Tophct to the Garden of Rden when the poor lost girls on the
streets of London exchange the pavements of Piccadilly for tiic straw-
berry beds of Essex or Kent.

Not only will vegetables and fruit of every description he raised,
nut I think that a g^-cat deal might be done in tl>c smaller aujuncts ol
the Farm.

It is quite certain that amongst the mass ot people with whom wc
have to deal tliere will be a residual remnant of persons lo some
extent mentally infirm or physically incapacitated from engaging in
tlic harder toils. For these people it is necessary to find work, and
i think there would be a good field for tneir benumbed energies
in looking after rabbits, feeding poultry, minding bees, and, in short
doing all tliosc little odd jobs about a place which must be attended
to, but which will not repay the lal our of able-bodied men.

One advantage of the cosmopolitan nature of the Army is that
we have Officers in almost every country in the world. When this
Scheme is well on the way every Salvation Officer in every land will
have it imposed upon him as one of the duties of hii calling to keep
his eyes open for every useful notion and every conceivable con-
trivance for increasing the yield of the soil and utilising the employ-
ment of waste labour. Ky this means I hope that there will not be
an idea in the world which will not be made available for oui
Scheme. If an Officer in Sweden can give us practical bints as lo
how they manage food kitchens for the people, or an Officer in the
South of France can explain how the peasants arc able to rear eggs
and poultry not only for their own ljc, but so as to he able to
c.xpor, them by the million to England : if a Sergeant in Belgium
understands how it is t!.at the rabbit farmers there can feed and fatten
and supply our market with millions of rabbits wc shall hayC him
over, tap his brains, and set him to work to benefit our people.'

By the establishment of tliis Farm Colony wc should create a grcal
school of technical agricultural education. It would be a Working
Men's Agricultural University, training people for the life which they
would have to lead in the new countries thoy will go forth lo colonise
>lind ^possess. ^

I •!

''.

134

THE FARM PROPER.

Every man who goes to our Farm Colon}' docs so, not to acquire
his fortune, but to obtain a knv.'vlcdge of an occupation and that
mastery of his tools which will enable him to play his part in the
battle of life. He will be provided with a cheap uniform, which wc
shall find no difficulty in rigging up from the old clothes of London,
and it will go hardly with us, and we shall have worse luck than the
ordinary market gardener, if we do not succeed in making sutticieiU
profit to pay all the expenses of the concern, and leave something
over for the maintenance of the hopelessly incompetent, and those
who, to put it roughly, arc not worth their keep.

Every person in the Farm Colony will be taught the elementary
lesson of obedience, and will be instructed m the needful arts ot
husbandry, or seme other method of earning his bread. Tiic
Agricultural Se.tion will learn the lesson of the seasons and of the
best kind of seeds a^id plants. Those belonging to thiji Section will
learn how to hedge and ditch, how to make roads and build bridges,
and generally to subdue the earth and make it yield to him the riches
which it never withholds from the industrious and skilful workman.
But the Farm Colony, any more than the City Colon}, although an
abiding institution, will not provide permanently for those with whom
we have to deal. It is a Training School for Emigrants, a place
where those .dispensably practical lessons arc given which will enable
the Colonists to know their way about and to feel themselves at hon«c
wherever there is land to till, stock to rear, anu harvests to reap.
We shall rel}' greatly for the peace nnd prosperity of the Colony
upon the sense of brotherhood which will be universal in it from the
highest to the lowest. While there will be no systematic wage-
paying there will be some sort of rewards and remuneration for
honest industr}, '-hich will be stored up, for his benefit, as after-
wards explained. They wiP in the main work each for all, and,
the»\.iore, the needs of all will be supplied, and any overplus will go to
make the bridge o\er which any poor fcHow may escape from the
horrible pit and the nury c»ay from which they themselves have been
rescued.

The dulncss and deadness of country life, especially in the
Colonies, leads man} men to prefer a life of hardi»hip and privation
in a City slum. But in our Colony they would be near to each other,
and would enjoy the advantages of country life and the association
land companionship of life in town.

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Section 2.— THE INDUSTRIAL VILLAGE.

1' I.

ic
n

f
Ml

In describing the operations of the Household Salvage Brigade
I have referred to the enormous quantities of good sound food whicli
would be collected from door to door every day of the year. Much
of this food would be suitable for human consumption, its waste
being next door to sinful. Imagine, for instance, the quantities of
soup which might be made from boiling the good fresh meaty bones
'>♦" the great City I Think of the dainty dishes which a French cook
' ' "u be able to serve up from the scraps and odds and ends of a
single West End kitchen. Good cookery is not an extravagance
but an economy, and many a tasty dish is made by our Continental
friends out o£ materials which would be discarded indignantly by the
poorest tramp in Whitechapel.

But after all that is done there will remain a mass of food which
cannot be eaten by man, but can be converted into food for him
by the simple process of passing it through another digestive
apparatus. The old bread of London, the soiled, stale crusts can be
used in foddering the horses which are employed in collecting the
waste. It will help to feed the rabbits, whose hutches will be. close
by every o'iage on the estate, and the hens of the Colony will
flourish r,.y hf crumbs which fall from the table of Dives. " But after
the hoi a: j/d he rabbits and poultry have been served, there will
remain a res d ivra of eatable matter, which can only be profitably
disposed of to the voracious and necessary pig. I foresee the rise of
a piggery in connection with the new Social Scheme, which will dwarf
into insignificance all that exist in Great Britain and Ireland. ;.: V/e
have the advantage of the experience cf the whole world as to the
choice of breeds, the construction of sties, and the rearing of stock.
,We shall have the major part of our food practically for the' cost of
collect- O.J, and be able to adopt all the latest methods of, Chicago^ for
^he.. kiltiig,^ _cuiing,^and_ disppsing^pf our . pork,j. ham,;l.*rMlIbaconJ

1 ' 'i

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136

THE INDUSTRIAL VILLAGE.

There are few animals more useful than the pig. > He will eat any-
thing, live anywhere, and almost every particle of Inni, from the tip
of his nose to the end of his tail, is capable of being converted into
a saleable commodity. Your pig also is a great producer of m:inure,
and agriculture 's after all largely a matter of manure. Treat the
land well and it will treat you well. With our piggery in connection
with our Farm Colony there would be no lack of manure.

With the piggerj there would g^ow up a great bacon factory for
curing, and that again would make more work. Then as for
sausages they would be produced literally by the mile, and aH made
of the best meat instead of bemg manufactured out of the very
objectionable ingredients too often stowed away in that poor man's
favourite ration.

Food, however, is only one of the materials which will be
collected by the Household Sah, ;s;e Brigade. The barges which
float down the river with the tide, .j o the brim with the cast-oflf

waste of half a million homes, Wi* bring down an enormous
quantity of material which cannot be eaten even by pigs. There
will be, for instance, the old bones. At present it pays speculators
to go to the prairies of America and gather up the bleached bones
of the dead buffaloes, in order to make manure. It pays manu-
facturers \o bring bones from the end of the earth in order to grind
them up for use on our fields. But the waste bones of London ; who
collects them ? I see. us in a vision, barge loads upon barge loads
of bones floating down the Thames to the great Bone Factory.
Some of the best will yield materiat for knife handles and buttons;
and the numberless articles which will afford ample opportunity an
the long winter evenings for the acquisition of skill on the part of
our Colonist ear,VErs, while the rest will go straight to the Manure Mill.
There will be a constant demand for manure on the part of bur
ever-increasing nests of new Colonies and our Co-operative Farm,"
every man in which will be educated in the great doctrine thatuhere
is no good agriculture without liberal manuring. And here will be
an unfailing source of supply.

Among the material which comes down will be an immense
quantity of greasy matter, bits of fat, suet and*ilard, tallow, strong
butter, and all tl?e rancid fat of a great city, ^t^ For all that we shall
have;to find use. ;r The, best of it will make waggon grease, the
rest,after due boiling and straining, will form the nucleus of the raw
itnatcrial which will make our Social Soap a household word through-.

GOVERNMENT OF COLONISTS.

137

out the kingdom. Aiicr the Manure Works, tlje Scan Factory will be
the natural adjunct of our operations.

The fourth great output of the daily waste of London will be waste
paper and rags, which, after being chemically treated, and duly
manipulated by rr 'hinery, will be re-issued to the world in the
shape of paper. 1 iie Salvation Army consumes no less than thirty
tons of paper every week. Here, therefore, would be one customer
for as much paper as the new mill would be able to turn oCit at the
onset ; paper on which we could print the glad tidings of great joy,
and tell the poor of all nations the news of salvation for earth and
Heaven, full, present, and free to all the children of men.

Then comes the tin. It will go hard with us if we cannot find
some way of utilizing these tins, whether we make them into flower-
pots with a coat of enamel, or convert them into ornaments, or cut
them up for toys or some other purpose. My officers have been
instructed to make an exhaustive report on the way the refuse
collectors of Paris deal with the sardine tins. The industry of
making tin toys will be one which can be practised better in the Farm
Colony than in the City. If necessary, we shall bring an accomplished
workman from France, who will teach our people the way of dealing
with the tin.

In connection with all this it is obvious there would be a constant
demand for packing cases, for tv/ine, rope, and for boxes of all kinds ;
for carts and cars ; and, in short, we should before long have
a complete community practising almost all the trades that are
to be found in London, except the keeping of grog shops, the whole
being worked upon co-operative principles, but co-operation not for
the benefit of the individual co-operator, but for the benefit of the
:;unken mass that lies behind it.

RULES AND REGULATIONS FOR THE GOVERNMENT OF

COLONISTS.
A documcut containing the Orders and Regulations for the Government ot
the Colony must be approx'ed and signed by every Colonist before admission.
Amongst other things there will be the following : —

1. All Officers must be treated respectfully and implicitly obeyed.

2. The use of intoxicant^s strictly prohibited, none being allowed within its
borders. Any Colonist guilty of violating this Order to be expelled, and that on
the first offence.

3. Expulsion for drunkeoDess, dishonesty, or falsehood will follow the third
ofTence*

I '

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■'.'(■

138'

THE INDUSTRIAL VILLAGE.

4. Profane language strictly forbidden.
' 5. No cruelty to be practised on man, woman, child, or animal
,' 6. Serious offenders against the virtue of women, or of children of either sex,
to incur immediate expulsion.

^ 7. After a certain period of probation, and a considerable amount of patience,
all who will not work to be expelled.

i S. The decision of the Governor of the Colony, whether in the City, or the
Farnj, or Over the Sea, to be binding in all cases. - .

^ 9. With respect to penalties, the following rules will be acted upon. The
chief reliance for the maintenance of order, as has been observed before, will be
placed upon the spirit ot love which will prevail throughout the community.
But as it cannot be expected to be universally successful, certain penalties will
have to be provided : —

(a) First offences, except in flagrant cases, will be recorded.

(b) The second offence will be published.

(c/ The third offence will incur expulsion or being handed over to
the authorities. - ' ' "

Other regulations will be necessary as the ScTifflne develops. ,

There will be no attempt to enforce upon the Colonists the rules
and regulations to which Salvation Soldiers are subjected. Those
who are soundly saved and who of their own free will desire to become
Salvationists will, of course, be subjected to the rules of the Service.
But Colonists who are willing to work and obey the orders of the
Commanding Officer will only be subject to the foregoing and similar
regulations ; in all other things they will be left free.

For instance, there will be no objection to field recreations or any
outdoor exercises, which conduce to the maintenance of health and
spirits. A reading room and a library will be provided, together with
a hall, in which they can amuse themselves in the long winter nights
and in unfavourable weather. These things are not for the Salva-
tion Army Soldiers, who have other work in the world, but for those
who are not in the Army these recreations will be permissible.
Gambling and anything of an immoral tendency will be repressed
like stealing.

There will probably be an Annual Exhibition of fruit and flowers,
at which all the Colonists who have a »plot of garden of their own
will take part. They will exhibit their fruit and vegetables as well
as their rabbits, their poultry and all the other live-stock of the farm.

Every effort will be made to establish village industries, and I am
oot without hope but that we may be able to restore some of thej

PUBLIC ELEMENTARY SCHOOL.

139

domestic occupations which steam has compelled us to confine to the
great factories. The more the Colony can be made self-supporting
the better. And although the hand loom can never compete with
Manchester mills, still an occupation which kept the hands of the
goodwife busy in the long winter nights, is not to be despised as an
element in the economics of the Settlement. While Manchester and
Leeds may be able to manufacture common goods much more cheaply
than they can be spun at home, even these emporiums, with all their
grand improvements in machinery, would be sorely pressed to-day to
compete with the hand-loom in many superior classes of work. For
instance, we all know the hand-sewn boot still holds its own against
the most perfect article that machinery can turn out.

There would be, in the centre of the Colony, a Public Elementary
School at which the children would receive training, and side by
side with that an Agricultural Industrial School, as elsewhere
described. . •

The religious welfare of the Colony would be looked after by the
Salvation Army, but there will be no compulsion to take part in its
services. The Sabbath will be strictly observed ; no unnecessary
work will be done^in the Colony on that day, but beyond interdicted
labour, the Colonists will be allowed to spend Sunday as they please.
It v/ill be the fault of the Salvation Army if they do not find our
Sunday Services sufficiently attractive to command their attendance.

. *'

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:■>'.!:

Section 3— AGRICULTURAL VILLAGES.

/This brings me to the next feature of the Scheme, the creation ofj
agricultural settlements in the neighbourhood of the Farm, around
the original Estate. I hope to obtain land for the purpose of allot-
ments which can be taken upSlto the extent of so many acres by the
more competent Colonists who wish to remain at home instead of
Igoing abroad. T There will be allotments from three to five acres
iwith a cottage, a cow, and the necessary tools and seed for making
jthe allotment self-supporting. /A weekly charge will be imposed for.
■the repayment of the cost of the fixing and stock. The tenant
will, of course, be entitled to his tenant-right, but adequate pre-
cautions will be taken against underletting and other forms by which
sweating makes its way into agricultural communities. On entering
into possession, the tenant will become responsible for his own and
his family's maintenance. I shall stand no longer in the relation of
father of the household to him, as I do to the other members of the
fColony ; his obligations will cease to me, except in the payment of his
renjt.

The creation of a large number of Allotment Farms would make the
establishment of a creamery necessary, where the milk could be
brought in every day and converted into butter by the most modem
methods, with the least possible delay. 'Dairying, which has in some
places on the Continent almost developed to a fine art, is in a very
backward condition in this country. But by co-operation among
the cottiers and an intelligent Headquarter staff much could be done
which at present appears impossible.

The tenant will be allowed permanent tenancy on payment of an
'annual rent or land tax, subject, of course', to such necessary regu-
lations which may be made for the prevention'' of intemperance and
immorality and the preservation of the fundamental features of the
Colony. .^ In this way our FarmiColony will throw off small Colonies'

COTTAGES DETACHED RESIDENCES.

^all*iround it^htil the origmal sitels bu'tlhe^ centre: of a^hole"- series
of small farms, where those whom we have rescued ao'd^traiiiipd will
live, if not under their own vine'.and fig tree, at> leastVin the midst
of their own. little • fruit farm, and surrounded by their small flocks
and herds.'*;; The cottages wilLbe so many detached residences,)each
standing in its own ground, not so far away from its neighbours' as
to deprive its occupants of the benefit of human intercourse

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'.'■I'

Section 4.— CO-OPERATIVE FARM.

Side by side with the Farm Colony proper I should propose to
renew the experiment of Mr. E. T. Craig, which he found work so
successfully at Ralahine. When any members of the original Colony
had pulled themselves sufficiently together to desire to begin again
on their own account, I should group some of them as partners in a
Co-operative Farm, and see whether or no the success achieved in
County Clare could not be repeated in Essex or in Kent. I cannot
have more unpromising material to deal with than the wild Irishmen
on Colonel Vandeleur's estate, and I would certainly take care to be
safeguarded against any such mishap as destroyed the early promise
of Ralahine.

I shall look upon this as one of the most important experiments of
the entire series, and if, as I anticipate, it can be worked success-
fully, that is, if the results of Ralahine can be secured on a larger
scale, I' shall consider that the problem of the employment of the
people, and the use of the land, and the food supply for the globe, is
unquestionably solved, were its inhabitants many times greater in
number than they are.

"Without saying more, some idea will be obtained as to what I
propose from the story of Ralaliine related briefly at the close of
this volume.

ropose to

work so

lal Colony

gin again

tners in a

hieved in

I cannot

Irishmen

bre to be

y promise

iments of
I success-
1 a larger
nt of the
: globe, is
^eater in

whai I
close of

CHAPTER IV.
NEW BRITAIN.-THE COLONY OVER-SEA.

We now come to the third and final stage of the regenerative
process. The Colony Over-Sea. To mention Over-Sea is sufficient
with some people to damn the Scheme. A prejudice against emigra-
tion has been diligently fostered in certain quarters by those who
have openly admitted that they did not wish to deplete the ranks of
the Army of Discontent at home, for the more discontented people
you have here the more trouble you can give the Government, and
the more power you have to bring about the general overturn, whi'h
is the only thing in which they see any hope for the future. Some
again object to emigration on the ground that it is transportation. I
confess that I have great sympathy with those who object to emigra-
tion as carried on hitherto, and if it be a consolation to any of my
critics I may say at once that so far from compulsorily expatriating
any Englishman I shall refuse to have any part or lot in emigrating
any man or woman who does not voluntarily wish to be sent out.

A journey over sea is a very diflerent thing now to what it was
when a voyage to Australia consumed more than six months, when
emigrants were crowded by hundreds into sailing ships, and scenes
of abominable sin and brutality were the normal incidents of the
passage The world has grown much smaller since the electric
telegraph was discovered and side by side with the shrinkage of
this planet under the influence ot bteam and electricity there has
come a sense of brotherhood and ^ ccnsuiousness of community o*'
interest and of nationality on the part of the English-speaking people
throughout the world. To change from Devon to Australia is not
such a change in many respects as merely to crosfi over from Devon
to Normandy. In Australia the Emigrant finds himself among men
and women of the same habits, the same language, and in fact -the
same people, excepting that they \\\z u|ider the southern cross instead

!', :i,'.

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I. ■ , J

144!

THt COLONY OVER SEA?

of in the northern latitudes. The reduction of the postage between
England and the Colonies, a reduction which I hope will' soon be
followed by the establishment of the Universal Penny Post between
the English speaking lands, will further tend to lessen the sense of
distance.

The constant travelling of ♦he Colonists backwards and forwards
to England makes it absurd to speak of the Colonies as if they were
a foreign land. They arc simply pieces of Britain distributed about
the world, enabling the Britisher to have access to the richest parts
of the earth.

Another objection which will be taken to this Scheme is that
colonists already over sea will see with mfinite alarm the prospect of
the transfer of our waste labour to their country. It is easy to under-
stand how this misconception will arise, but there is not much dangei
of 'opposition on this score. The working-men who rule the roost
at Melbourne object to the introduction of fresh workmen into
their labour market, for the same reason that the new Dockers'
Union objects to the appearance of new hands at the dock gates,
that is for fear the newcomers will enter into unfriendly competition
with them. But no Colony, not even the Protectionist and Trade
Unionists who govern Victoria, could rationally object to the intro-
duction of trained Colonists planted out upon the land. They
would see that these men would become a source of wealth,
simply because they would at once become producers as well
as consumers, and instead of cutting down wages they would
tend directly to improve trade and so increase the employment
of the workmen now in the Colony. Emigration as hitherto
conducted has been carried out on directly opposite principles to
these. 'Men and women have simply been shot down into countries
without any regard to their possession of ability to earn a liveli-
hood, and have consequently become an incubus upon the energies
of the community, and a discredit, expense, and burden. The result
is that they gravitate to the towns and compete with the colonial
|workmen, and thereby drive down wages. We shall avoid that
[mistake. ■ We need not wonder that Australians and other Colonists

should object to their countries being converted into a sort of

damping groijujd, on which to deposit men andiwoinen totally
iUnsuited for the new circumstances in which they fii;^ tJipQi^((;||^.

Moreover, looking at it from the aspieot of the cl{i^^iifaidf»<
Vould such emigration be of any.^endurinfif..value?.^It. is not!

5 between
rsoon be
t between
e sense of

forwards
they were
ited about
lest parts

le is that
rospect of
to under-
ch dangei
the roost
men into

Dockers'
)ck gates,
mpelitioa
nd Trade
he intro-
d. They
wealth,
as well
;y would
ployment

hitherto
iciple& to
countries

a liveli-

encrgies
'he result

colonial
troid that
Colonists
sort of
totally
sehtes.

18 not!

WHERE SHOULD IT BE t

145

merely more favourable circumstances that are requircfd by
these crowds, but those habits of industry, truthfulness, and
self-restraint, which will enable them to profit by better conditions if
they could only come to possess them. According to the most
reliable information, there are already sadly too many of the same
classes we want to help in countries supposed to be the paradise of
the working-man

What could br Jone with a people whose first enquiry on reaching
a foreign land would be for a whisky shop, and who were utterly
ignorant of those forms of labour and habits of industry absolutely
indispensable to the earning of a subsistence amid the hardships of an
Emigrant's life ? Such would naturally shrink from the belf-denial
the new circumstances inevitably called for, and rather than suffer
the inconveniences connected with a settler's life, would probably
sink down into helpless despair, or settle in the slums of the first
city they came to.

These difficulties, in my estimation, bar the way to the emigration
on any considerable scale of the " submerged tenth," and yet I am
strongly of opinion, with the majority of those who have thought and
' ^'tten on political economy, that emigration is the only remedy for
mighty evil. Now, the Over-Sea Colony plan, I think, meets
iiiese difficulties : —

(i) In the preparation of the Colony for the people.

(2) In the preparation of the people for the Colony.

(3) In the arrangements that are rendered possible lor the tiansport of
the pepple when prepared.

It is proposed to secure a large tract of land in some country
suitable to our purpose. We have thought of South Africa, to begin
with. We are in no way pledged to this part of the world, or to it
alone. There is nothing to prevent our establishing similar settle-
ments in Canada, Australia, or some other land. British Columbia
has been strongly urged upon our notice. Indeed, it is certain if
this Scheme proves the success we anticipate, the first Colony will
be the forerunner of similar communities elsewhere. Africa, how-
ever, presents to us great advantages for the moment. There is any
amount of land suitable for our purpose which can be obtained, we
think, without difficulty. The climate is healthy. Labour is in
great demand, so that if by any means work failed on the Colony,
there would be abundant opportunities for securing good wages from
thefneighbouring Companies. '" >

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Section i.~THE COLONY A!>iD THE COLONISTS.

Before any decision is arrived at, however, information will be
obtained as to the position and character of the land ; the accessibility
of markets for commodities ; communication with Europe, and other
necessary particulars. ; :

The next business would be to obtain on grant, or otherwise, ?.
sufficient tract of suitable country for the purpose of a Colony^ on
conditions that would meet its present and future character.

After obtaining a title to the country, the next business will be to
effect a settlement in it. This, I suppose, will be accomplished by
sending a competent body ot men under skilled supervision to fix on
a suitable location for the first settlement, erecting such buildings as
vould be required, enclosing and breaking up the land, putting in
first crops, and so storing sufficient supplies of food for the future.

Then a supply of Colonists would be sent out to join them, and
from time to time other detachments, as the Colony was prepared to
receive them. Further locations could then be chosen, and more
country broken up, a .d before a very long period has passed the
Colony would be capable of receiving and absorbing a continuous
stream of emigration of considerable proportions.

The next work would be the establishment of a strong and
efficient government, prepared to carry out and enforce the same
laws and discipline to which the Colonists had been accustomed in
England, together with such alterations and additions as the new
circumstances would render necessary.

The Colonists would become responsible for all that concerned
their own support ; that is to say, they would buy and sell, engage
in trade, hire, servants, and transact all the ordinary bu ness affairs
of every-day life.

Our Headquarters in England would represent the Colony in this
country on their behalf, and with money ijupplied by tiiem, when
bnce fairly. established, would buy., for. their agents v.nat they were at

W!PWIP

'S.

tion will be
accessibility
le, and other

otherwise, ?.
I Colonyj on
er.

ss will be to
mplished by
on to fix on
buildings as
i, putting in
he future.
n them, and
prepared to
1, and more
passed the
I continuous

strong and
e the same
zustomed in
as the new

It concerned
sell, engage
ness affairs

•lony in this
tiiem, when
hey. were at,

THE^COLONISTS PREPARED FOR THE C0L0NY7 147

the outset unable to produce themselves, such as machinery and the
like, also selling their produce to the best advantage.

All land, timber, minerals, and the like, would be rented to the
Colonists, all unearned increments, and improvements on the land,
would be held on behalf of the entire community, and utilised for its
general advantages, a certain percentag ». being set apart for the
extension of its borders, and the continued transmission of Colonists
from England in increasing numbers.

Arrangements would be made for the temporary accommodation
of new arrivals. Officers being maintained for the purpose of taking
them in hand on landing and directing and controlling them generally.
So far as possible, they would be introduced to work without any
waste of time, situations being ready for them to enter upon ; and
any way, their wants would be supplied till this was the case.

There would be friends who would welcome and care for them,
not merely on the principle of profit and loss, but on the ground of
friendship and religion, many of whom the emigrants would probably
have known before in the old country, together with all the social
influences, restraints, and religious enjoyments to which the Colonists
have been accustomed.

After dealing with the preparation of the Colony for the Colonists,
we now come to the preparation of the

COLONISTS FOR THE COLONY OVER-SEA.

They would be prepared by an education in honesty, truth, and
mdustry, without which we could not indulge in any hope of their
succeeding. While men and women would be received into the
City Colony without character, none would be sent over the sea who
had not \^\ n proved worthy of this trust.

They would be inspired with an ambition to do well for themselves
and their fellow Colonists.

They would be instructed in all that concerned their future career.

They would be taught those industries in which they would be
most profitably employed.

They would be inured to the hardships tney would have to endure.

They would be accustomed to the economies they would have to
practise.

They would be made acquainted with the comrades with whom
they would have to live and labour.

They would be accustomed to the Government, Orders, and
Regulations which they^ would have to obey.

i
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ir; ;

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to ,:■

^ ^hF

/■ '■\-

■

■148?

TTHE COLONY AND THE COLON ISTS.T

They ^ould be educated, so far. sis the opportunity served, in those
habits of patience, forbearance, and affection which would so largely
tend to* their own welfare, and- to the successful carrying out of this
part of oitf Scheme."

^TRANSPORT ■ TO THE COLONY OVER-SEA..

We now come to the question of transport. • This certainly has an
element of difficulty in it, if the remedy is to be applied on a very
large scale. But this will appear of less importance if we consider :—

That the largeness of the number will reduce the individual cost.
Emigrants can be conveyed to such a location in South Africa, as
we have in view, by ones and twos at ;^8 per head, including land
journey ;■ and, no doubt, were a large number earned, this figure
would be-reduced considerably.

Many of the Colonists would have friends who would assist them
with the cost of passage money and outfit.

AH the unmarried will have earned something on the City an-
Farm Colonies, which will go towards meeting their passage money.
In the "course of time relatives, who are comfortably settled in the
Colony, will save money, and assist their kindred in getting out to
them.'-' We have the»examples before our eyes in Australia and the
United States of how those countries have in this form absorbed
from Europe millions of poor struggling people.

All Colonists and emigrants generally will bind themselves in tx
legal^. instrument to repay all monies, expenses of passage, outfit, or
otherwise, which would in turn be utilised in sending out further
contingents.

On-the plan named, if prudently carried out, and generously
assist<?d, the. transfer of the entire surplus population of this country
is not -only possible, but would, we think, in process of time, be
effected ^with enormous advantage to the people themselves, to this
country,;^find _the country - of their adoption. .The history , of
Australia vaJid the United States evidences this.S' It is quite true
the-^fe^^ settlers^in'-the latter were people 'superior in every way
for'sUch an enterprise to the- bulk of those we propose to send out.
Butiitliii equally true that large numbers of the most ignorant and
vicicua t>f V our European populations have been pouring into that
countryever since without affecting its prosperity, and this Colony
Over-Sea would have the immense advantage at the outset which
would come from a government and discipline carefully adapted to its
peculiaritircumstance?! _and rigidly, enforced in every particular.

^f*^

idf in those

so largely

out of this

inly has an
on a very
onsider ;—
i^idual cost,
Africa, as
uding land
this figure

assist them

e City an ■
tge money,
tied in th;:;
ting out to
lia and the
n absorbed

selves in a
i, outfit, or
3Ut further

generously
lis country
* time, be
^es, to this
listory , of
quite true
ivery 'way
send out.
orant and
: into that
s Colony
set which
ted to its
ulai;

TRANSPORT TO THE COLONY OVER-SEA.

149

I would guard agaiiist misconception in relation to this Colony

cf-Sea by pointing out that all my proposals here are necessarily ten-
tive and experimental. There is no intention on my part to' stick to
y of these suggestions if, on maturer consideration and consulta-
n with practical men, they can be improved upon. Mr. Arnold
hite, who has already conducted two parties of Colonists to South
rica, is one of the few men in this country who has had
ictical experience of the actual difficulties of colonisation.

have, through a mutual friend, had the advantage of corn-
ring notes with him very fully, and I venture to believe that there

nothing in this Scheme that is not in harmony with the
suit of his experience In a couple of months this book will be
ad all over the world. It will bring me a plentiful crop of sugges-
)ns, and, I hope, offers of sei^vice from many valuable and
[perienced Colonists in every country. In the due order of things
e Colony Over-Sea is the last to be started. Long before our first
itch of Colonists is ready to cross the ocean I shall be in a position

correct and revise the proposals of this chapter by the best wisdom
id matured experience of the practical men of every Colony in the
mpire. _^

,•■{',[

,!.-.^.

■ 1 ■)■

i. I

I I

mams

Section 2.~UNIVERSAL EMIGRATION.

We have in our remarks on the Over-Sea Colony referred to the!
general concensus of opinion on the part of those who have studiedj
the Social Question as to Emigration being the only remedy for the
overcrowded population of this country, at the same time showing
some of the difficulties which lie in the way of the adoption of the
remedy ; the dislike of the people to so great a change as is
involved in going from one country to another ; the cost of their
transfer, and their general unfitness for an emigrant's life. These
difficulties, as I think we have seen, are fully met by the Over-Sea
Colony Scheme. But, apart from those who, driven by their abject
poverty, will avail themselves of our Scheme, there are multitudes
of people all over the country who would be likely to emigrate could
they be assisted in so> doinp^. Those we propose to help, in thej
following manner : —

1. By opening a Bureau in London, and appointing Officers whose businers
it will be to acquire every kind of information as to suitable countries, their
adaptation to, and the openings they present for different trades and callings,
the possibility of obtaining land and employment, the rates of remuneration,
and the like. These enquiries will include the cost of passage-money, railv/ay
fares, outfit, together with every kind of information required by an emigrant.

2. From this Bureau any one may obtain all necessary information.

3. Special terms viiH be arranged with steamships, railway companies, anrl
laad agents, of which emigrants using the Bureau will have the advantage,

4. Introductions will be supplied, as far as possible, to ageris a:id friends in
the localities to which the emigrant may be proceeding.

5. Intending emigrants, desirous of saving money, can deposit it through
this Bureau in the Army Bank for that purpose.

6. It is expected that government contractors and other employers of labour
rei|uiring Colonists of reliable character will apply to this Bureau for such.
offering favourable terms with respect to passage-money, employment, and
other advantaj^es.,

AK* EMIGRATION BUREAU.'

151

7. No emigrant villi be sent out in response to any application from abioad
here the emigrant's expenses are defrayed, without references as to character,'
ndustry, and fitness.

This Bureau, we think, will be especially useful to women and

oung girls. There must be a large number of such in this country

living in semi-starvation, anyway, with very poor prospects, who

ivould be very welcome abroad, the expense of whose transfer

governments, and masters and mistresses alike would be very glad to

efray, or assist in defraying, if they could only be assured on both

ides of the beneficial character of the arrangements when made.

So widespread now are the operations of the Army, and so

xtensively will this Bureau multiply its agencies that it will speedily

e able to make personal enquiries on both sid'^s,"that is in the

►tion of the^riterest alike of the emigrant and the intended employer in any part

f the world.

rred to the
ive studied
;dy for the
le showing

mge as 13
ist of their
fe. These
B Over-Sea
their abject
multitudes
igrate could
help, in the

if:

J' .

*» .■

I* ' ■'

(■ I

I . 'I

^| ,;

.;■ :i.,!

t'll

■■vn

lose business
untries, their
and callings,
emuneration,
oney, railv^ay
n emigrant,
on.

mpanies, Jind
'vantage.
:id friends in

iit it throug'n

-,!!!!

jrs of labour
eau for such.
loymsnt, and

Ill

Section 3.— THE SALVATION SHIP.

1 *sen|

■■. nort
nergi
>assen

Vustral

iome

labits

When we have selected a party of emigrants whom we belief i/ery
to be sufficiently prepared to settle on the land which has been gc iindon
ready foe them in the Colony over Sea, it will be. no disrn. To
expatriation which will await them. No one who has ever been to ha>
the West Coast of Ireland when the emigrants were departing, an might
has heard the dismal wails which arise from those who are takin quest!
leave of each other for the last time on earth, can fail to sympathis as, th(
with the horror excited in many minds by the very wo''d emigratioi the ac
But when our party sets out, there will he no violent wrenching c would
home ties. In our ship we shall export them all — father, mother very 11
and children. The individuals will be grouped in families, and th us, wl
families will, on the Farm Colony, have been for some months pasi All
more or less near neighbours, meeting each other in the field, ijand it
the workshops, and in the Religious Services. - It will resembli
nothing so much as the unmooring of a little piece of England, an
towing it across the sea to find a safe anchorage in a sunnier climi
The ship v/hich takes out emigrants will bring back the produce
the farms, and constant travelling to and fro will lead more thai
ever to the feeling that we and our ocean-sundered brethren an
members of one family.

No one who has ever crossed the ocean can have failed to
impressed with the mischief that comes to emigrants when they arel
on their way to their destination. Many and many a girl has dated
her downfall from the temptations which beset her while journeying|
to a land v/here she had hoped to find a happier future.

" Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do," and he
must have his hands f611 on board an emigrant ship. Look into
the steerage at any time, and you will find boredom inexpressible
on every face. The men have nothing to do, and an incident of no
more 'importance than the appearance, of a sail upon the distant

instrui

their «

could

needii

every

direcl

conv<

some

conn

amoi

this

a po

vvorl

muc'

aver

pas:

/:V/DRK^ON

BOARD SHIP.

153

f|2)SMi^is '911 event which makes the whole ship talkw I dd not see
y: 'this should be so. Of cimrse, in the case of conveying
^sengers and freight, with the utmost p>ossible expedition, for
aort distances, it would be idle to expect that either time or
nergies could be spared for the employment or instruction of the
)assengers. But the case is different when, instead of going to
Vmerica, the emigrant turns his face to South Africa or remote
Australia. , Then, even with the fastest steamers, they must remain
;ome weeks or months upon the high seas. The result is that
labits of idleness are contracted, bad acquaintances are formed, and
lom we believ i?ery often the moral and religious work of a lifetime is
h has been gc undone.

be, no dismi To avoid these evil consequences, I think we should be compelled

IS ever been to have a ship of our own as soon as possible. A sailing vessel

departing, an might be found the best adapted for the work. Leaving out the

vho are takin question of time, which would be of very secondary importance with

to sympathis us, the construction of a sailing ship would afford more space for

the accommodation of emigrants and for industrial occupation, and

would involve considerably less working expenses, besides costing

very much less at the onset, even if ' "i did not have one given to

us, which I should think would be very probable.

All the emigrants would be under the charge of Army Officers,

and instead of the voyage being demoralising, it would b«5 made

instructive and profitable. From leaving London to landing at

their destination, every colonist would be under watchful oversight,

sunnier climeBcould receive instruction in those particulars v/here they w^re still

o»-d emigratio
t wrenching
father, mothei
milies, and th
le months pas
n the field, ii
will resembli
' England, an;

:he produce
ad more thai
brethren an

needing it, and be subjected to influences that would be beneficial

everyway.
Then we have seen that one of the great difficulties in the

direction of emigration is the cost of transport The expense of
B failed to ,<b«l conveying a man from England to Australia, occupying as it does
vhen they areB some seven or eight weeks, arises not so much from the expense
jirl has datedB connected with the working of the vessel which carries him, -as the
le journeyingj amount of provisions he consumes during the passage. Now, with

this plan I think that the emigrants might be made to earn at least

> do," and hel a portion of this outlay. There is no reason why a man should not
>. Look intol work on board ship any more than on land. Of course, nothing
mexpressibleB much could be done when the weather was very rough ; but the
icident of nol average number of days during which it would be impossible for.

> the distant I passengers Jo .. employ themselves profitably,Jni,the. time «. spent

'I- J,

■ 1. ► ■ .-i J

■fmr

-M-

15^

THE SALVATION' SHIP

between the Channel and Cape Town or Australia would
comparatively few.

When the ship was pitching or rolling, work would be difficull
but even then, when the Colonists get their sea-legs, and are fr^
from the qualmishness which overtakes landsmen when first gettii
afloat, I cannot see why they should not engage in some form
industrial work far more profitable than yawning and lounging aboil
the deck, to say nothing of the fact that by so doing they woulj
lighten the expense of their transit. The sailors, firemeif
engineers, and everybody else connected with a vessel have
work, and there is no reason why our Colonists should not wor|
also.

Of course, this method would require special arrangements in tlij
fitting up of the vessel, which, if it were our own, it would not
difficult to make. At first sight it may seem difficult to finJ
employments on board ship which could be engaged in to advantage]
and it might not be found possible to fix up every individual righ
away ; but I think there would be very few of the class anj
character of people we should take out, with the prior instructioi
they would have received, who would not have fitted themsdve
into some useful labour before the voyage ended.

To begin with, there would be a large amount of the ordix
ship's work that the Colonists could perform, such as the preparatioj
of food, serving it out, cleaning the decks and fittings of the shij
generally, together with the 'loading and unloading of cargo.
these operations could be readily done under the direction of perl
maneut hands. Then shoemaking, knitting, "*wing, tailoring, ani
other kindred occupations could be engaged in. I should thinll
sewing-machines could be worked, and, one way or another, ani
amount of garments could be manufactured, which would find readj
and profitable sale on landing, either among the Colonists the
\selves, or with the people round about:

Not only would the ship thus be a perfect hive of industry, it wouI(|
also be a floating temple. The Captain, Officers, and every member '
the crew would be Salvationists, and all, therefore, alike interested iij
the enterprise. Moreover, the probabilities are that we shouI(|
obtain the service of the ship's officers and crew in the mc
inexpensive manner, in hannony with the usages of the Aimj
everywhere else, meii serving from love and not as a mere busim
>The effect _ produced by our ^ip cruising, slowly southwards

A MISSIONARY VESSEL.

tifying to the reality of a Salvation for both worlds, calling at
convenient ports, would constitute a new kind of mission work,
Lnd drawing out everywhere a large amount of warm practicd
Sympathy. At present the influence of those who go down to the
Lea in ships is not always in favour of raisuig the morals anc'i
religion of the dwellers in the places where they come. Here,
lowever, would be one ship at least whose appearance foretold
10 disorder, gave rise to no debauchery, and fiom whose capacious
mil would stream forth an Army of men, who, instead of throng Jng
grog-shops and other haunts of licentious indulgence, would
ccupy themselves with explaining and proclaiming the religion
}f the Love of God and the Brotherhood of Man.

! i

■i,i

, I

/■ . I- :

■ f i . .

,-. i':!

CHAPTER V. : ^

MORE CRUSADES

I have now sketched out briefly the leading features of the three-l
fold Scheme by which I think a way can be opened out of " Darkest!
England/' by which its forlorn denizens can escape into the light and!
freedom of a new life. But it is not enough to make a clear broadl
road out of the heart of this dense and matted jungle forest ; itsi
inhabitants are in many cases so degraded, so hopeless, so utterl}r|
desperate that we shall have to do something more than make roads.
As we read in the parable, it is often not enough that the feast be I
prepared, and the guests be bidden ; we must needs go into the high- 1
ways and byways and compel them to come in. So it is not enough I
to provide our City Colony and our Farm Colony, and then rest on I
our oars as if we had done^ our work. That kind of thing will not|
save the Lost.

it is necessary to organise rescue expeditions to free the miserable I
wanderers from their captivity, and bring them out into the larger
liberty and the fuller hfe. Talk about Stanley and Emin ! There is I
not one of us but has an Emin somewhere or other in the heart of
Darkest England, whom he ought to sally forth to rescue. Our Emins
have the Devil for their Mahdi, and when we get to them we find
that it is their friends and neighbours who hold them back, and they
are, oh, so irresolute! It needs each of us to be as indomitabla^as
Stanley, to burst through all obstacles, to force our way right to the
centre of things, and then to labour with the poor prisoner of vice
and crime with all our might. But had not the Expeditionary
Committee furnished the financial means whereby a road was opened to
the sea, both Stanley and Emin would probably have been in the
heart of Darkest Africa to this day. This Scheme is our Stanley
Expedition. The analogy is very close. I propose to make a road

A NEW STANLEY FOR ANOTHER EMIN.'

157

clear down to the sea. But alas our poor Emin t Even when the
road is open, he halts and lingers and doubts. First he will, and
then he won't, and nothing less than the irresistible pressure of a
friendly and stronger purpose will constrain him to take the road
which has been opened for him at such a cost of blood and treasure.
I now, therefore, proceed to sketch some of the methods by which
v/e shall attempt to save the lost and to rescue those who arc
perishing in the midst of " Darkest England."

of the three-l
of " Darkest!
the light andl
a clear broadl
e forest; its!
ss, so utterly]

make roads,
t the feast be I
nto the high- 1
s not enough

then rest onl
hing will not

';M^'i

he miserable
the larger
There is

the heart of
Our Emins

hem we find

ck, and they

domitablv^as
right to the

)ner of vice
peditionary

as opened to
seen in the
lur Stanley
i;^ke a road

■y-^'

Section i.~A SLUM CRUSADE.— OUR SLUM SISTERSL

When Professor Huxley lived as a medical officer in the East of
London he acquired a knowledge of the actual condition of^the'life
of many of its populace which led him long afterwards to declare
that the surroundings of the savages of New Guinea" were; mucli
more conducive to the leading of a decent human existence"* than
those in which many of the East-Enders live. Alas, it is not only
in London that such lairs exist in which the savages of civilisation
lurk and breed. :i All the great towns in both the Old World and the
New have their slums, in which huddle together, in festering and
verminous filth, men, women, and children. They correspond .to
the lepers who thronged the lazar houses of the Middle Ages;

As in those days St. Francis of Assissi and the heroic band of
saints who gathered under his orders were wont to go and lodge
with the lepers at the city gates, so the devoted souls who have
enlisted in the Salvation Army take up their quarters in the heart of
the worst slums. •- But ' whereas the Friars were men, our Slum
Brigade is composed of women, v- 1 have a hundred of them under
my orders, young women for the most part, quartered all of them in
outposts in the heart o^the Devil's country. Most of them are i the
children of the poor who have known hardship from their youth up.
Some are ladies born and bred, who have not been afraid^} to
exchange the comfort of a West End drawing-room for service
among the vilest of the vile, and a residence in small and>fetid
rooms whose walls were infested with vermin. They live the life of the
Crucified for the sake of the men and women for whom He. lived and
died. :^. They form one of the branches of the activity of the 'Armyj
upon which I dwell with deepest sympathy. They, are at the front;
they are at close quarters with the enemy.

To the dwellers in decent homes who. occupy cushioned pews in
fashionable churches . thers is.. something^ strange .and^quaint in the

THE SISTERS -^OF TRE SLUM/

169

rrr-

, '<**•'*:• r*)x>'

-.'*■•«

ERSL

I the East of
I of the ^life
Is to declare
"were; much
istence^'.than
is not only
civilisation
orld and the
:stering and
rrespond .to
^ges.
oic band of
> and lodge
s who have
the heart of
I, our Slum
them under
of them in
tiem are {the
ir youth up.
n afraid^} to
for service
ill and>fetid
he life "of the
1^ lived and
af the 'Armyj
It the front ;

led pews in
[uaint in the

language they hear read from the Bible, language which 'habitually
refers to' the Devil as an actual personality, and to the struggle
against sin and unclcanness as if it were a hand to hand death
wrestle with the legions of Hell. To our little sisters who dwell in
an atmosphere heavy with curses, among people sodden with drink,
in - quarters where sin and uncleanness are universal, all . these
Biblical sayings arc as real as the quotations of yesterday's price of
Consols are to a City man. They dwell in the midst of Hell, and in
their daily warfare with a hundred devils it seems incredible to them
that anyone can doubt the existence of either one or the other.

1 ne Slum Sister is what her name implies, the Sister of the Slum.
They go forth in Apostolic fashion, two-and-two living in a couple of
the same kind of dens or rooms as are occupied by the people
themselves, differing only in the cleanliness and order, and the few
articles of furniture which they contain."^ Here they live all the year
round, visiting the sick, looking after the children, showing the
women how to keep themselves and their homes decent, often
discharging the sick mother's duties themselves ; cultivating peace,
advocating temperance, counselling in tempcraJities, and ceaselessly
preaching the religion of Jesus Christ to the Outcasts of Society.

I do not like to speak of their work. Words fail me, and what I
say is so unworthy the theme. I prefer to quote two descriptions by
Journalists who have seen these girls at work in the field. The first
is ta!en from a long article which Julia Hayes Percy contributed to
the Neuf York World, describing a vijit paid by her to the slum
quarters of the Salvation Army in Cherry Hill Alleys, in the
Whitechapel of New York.

Twenty-four hours in the slums— just a night and a day — yet into them were
crowded such revelations of misery, depravity, and degradation as having once
been gazed upon life can never be the same afterwards. Aroupd and above
this blighted neighbourhood flows the tide of active, prosperous life. Men and
women travel past in street cars by the Elevated Railroad and across the bridge,
and take no thought of its wretchedness, of the criminals bred there, and of
the disease engendered by its foulness. It is a fearful menace to the public
health, both moral and physical, yet the multitude is as heedless of danger as
the peasant who makes, his house and plants green vineyards and olives above
Vesuvian fires. "^ We are almost as careless and auite as unknowing as we pass
the bridge in the late afternoon.

Our immediate destination is the Salvation Army Barracks in Washing-
ton Street, 'and we are going finally to the Salvation Officers— two
6

•'' \,

r J :

I! '

■

.160

A SLUM CRUSADE.

,youog/ women— who ''.;have been dwelling and doing, a noble mission
work for ' months in ' one of "the worst comers" of ^ New York's i-. most
vretched quarter. ' These ; Officers are not , living 'under the eegis of.} the
Army,"* however. a; The, blue .'bordered flag is > furled ' out 'ofc^vsight,^thc

uniforms and poke. bonnets are laid away, and there are no drums or tam-

• > . *■'' ,1., . ,i'

bourines. ;" The banner over them is love" of their fellow-creatures 'ambng

whom they dwell upon an 'equal plane of poverty, wearing no: belter: clothes
tHan the rest, eating coarse and scanty food, and sleeping upon hard cots or
upon the flooi. Their lives are consecrated to God's service among the poor ot
the earth. One is a woman in the early prime of vigorous life, the other-".^ girl
of eighteen. The elder of these devoted women is awaiting us at the barracks
to be our guide to Slumdom. She is tall, slender,. and clad in a coarse brown
gown, mended with patches. A big gingham apron, artistically rent Jn several
places, is tied about her Waist. She wears on old plaid woollen shawl and an
ancient brown straw hat. Her dress indicates extreme poverty, her face denotes
perfect peace. ''^" This is Em," says Mrs. Ballington'Bootht and after this intro-
duction we sally forth/

More and. more .wretched grows the district V^nas^" we" ;^netrate further.
Em pauses before a dirty, broken, smokef-dimmed ^ window, through which
in a dingy room are seen a party of roughs, dark-looking men, drinking
iand squabbling at a table. "They are our neighbours in the front."
We enter the hall-way and proceed to the rear room. It is tiny, but clean and
warm. A fire bums on the little cracked stove, which stands up bravely on
three legs, with a brick eking out its support at the fourth comer. A tin lamp
stands on the table, half-a-dozen chairs, one of which has arms, but must have
renounced its rockers long ago, and a packing box, upon which we deposit our
shawls, constitute the furniture. Opening from this is a small dark bedroom,
with one cot made up and another folded against the wall. Against a door,
'which must communicate with the front room, in which we saw the disagree-
able-looking men sitting, is a wooden table for the hand-basin. A small trunk
and a barrel of clothing complete the inventory.

Em's sister in the slum work gives us a sweet shy welcome.' She is a
Swedish girl, with the fair complexion and crisp, bright hair peculiar to the
Scandinavian blonde-type. Her head reminds me of a Grenze that hangs in the
Louvre, with its low knot ol rippling hair, which fluffs out from her brow and
frames a dear little face with soft childish outlines, a nez retrousse, a tiny mouth,'
likeacmshed pink rose, and wistful blue eyes. This girl has been ttliSal-
vationist for two years. ' During that time she has learned to .speak, read; and
write English, ivhile she has constantly laboured among the poor and wretched.

The house where we find ourselves was formerly notorious as one of the
iw:orstin4he Chexrv Hill district. It has been j^the .scene of r^^some memorable

;■; -i ■'IB

)le mission
'ork's inmost
egis of; the
^sight^thc
urns or tam-
tures'ambng
etterfclothes
liard cots or
g the poor ot
other '<6 girl
the barracks
oarse brown
itjn several
hawl and an
face denotes
erthis intro-

rate * further,
rough which
len, drinking

the front."
lut clean and
p bravely on

A tin lamp
\xt must have

deposit our
irk bedroom,

inst a door,
he disagree-

small trunk

She is a
:uliar to the
hangs in the
er brow and

tiny mouth,
been «xSal-
ik, read; and
id wretched.

one of the
! memorable

ROUND THE SLUMS OF NEW YORK.

t61

crimes, and among them that of the Chinaman who slew his Irish wife, after
the manner of " Jack the Ripper," on the staircase leading to the second floor.
A notable change has taken place in the tenement since Mattie and Em haytf
lived there, and their gentle influence is making itself felt in the neighbouring
houses as well. It is nearly eight o'clock when we sally forth. Each of us
carries a handful of printed slips bearing a text of Scripture and a few words
of warning to lead the better life.

" These furnish an excuse for entering places where otherwise we could not
go," explains Em. ...

After arranging a rendezvous, we separate. Mattie and Liz go off in one
direction, and Em and I in anothe*. From this our progress seems like a
descent into Tartarus. Em pauses before a miserable-looking saloon, pushes
open the low. sv/inging door, and we go in. It is a low-ceiled room, dingy with
dirt, dim with the smoke, nauseating with the fumes of sour beer and vile
liquor. A sloppy bar extends along one side, and opposite is a long table, with
indescribable viands littered over it, interspersed with empty glasses, battered
hats, and cigar stumps, A motley crowd of men and women jostle in the
narrow space. Em speaks to the sq^erest looking of the lot. He listens to
her words, others crowd about. Many accept the slips we offer, and gradually,
as the throng separates to make way, we gain the further end of the apartment.
Em's serious, sweet, saint-like face I follow like a star. All sense of fear slips
from me, and a great pity fills my soul as I look upon the various types oi
wretchedness.

As the night wears on, the whole apartment seems to wake up. Every house is
alight ; the narrow sidewalks and filthy streets are full of people. Miserable
little children, with sin-stamped faces, dart about like rats ; little ones who
ought to be in their cribs shift for themselves, and sleep on cellar doors and
areas, and under carts ; a few vendors are abroad with their wares, but the most
of the traffic going on is of a different description. Along Water Street are
women conspicuously dressed in gaudy colours. Their heavily-painted faces
are bloated or pinched ; they shiver in the raw night air. Liz speakd to one,
who replies that she would like to talk, but dare not, and as she says this aa
old hag comes to the door and cries : —

*' Get along ; don't hinder her work I "

During the evening a man to whom Em has been talking has told her : —

" You ought to join the Salvation Army ; they are the only good women who
bother us down here. I don't want to lead that sort of life ; but I must go
where it is light and warm and :Iean after working all day, and there isn't any
place but this to come to " exclaimed the man.

"You will appreciate the plea to-morrow when you see how tne people live,"
Em say*, as we turn our steps toward the tenement room, which seems like aa.

.'I

■ 1

1 1
if

J 62

A SLUM CRUSADED

oasis of peace and purity after the howling desert we have been wandering in.
Em and Mattie brew some oatmeal gruel, and being chiUid atid faint we en-
joyed a cup of it. Liz and I share a cot in the outer room. We are just going
to sleep when agonised cries ring out through the night ; then the tones of a
woman's voice pleading pitifully reach our, ears. We are unable to distinguish
her words, but the sound is heart-rending. It comes from one of those dreadful
Water Street houses, and we all feel that a tragedy is taking place. There is a
sound of crashing blows and then silence

t It is customary in the slums to leave the house door open perpetuall;', which
is convenient for tramps, who creep into the hall-ways to sleep at night, thereby
saving the few pence it costs to occupy a " spot " in the cheap lodging houses.
Em and Mat keep the corridor without their room beautifully clean, and so it has
become an especial favourite stamping ground for these vagrants. We were told
this when Mattie locked and bolted the door and then tied the keys and the door-
handle together. So we understand why there are shuffling steps along the
corridor, bumping against the panels of the door, and heavily breathing without
during the long hours of the night.

» AH day Em and Mat have been toiling among their neighbours, and the night
before last they sat up with a dying woman. They are worn out and sleep
heavily. Liz and I lie awake and wait for the coming of the morning ; we are
too oppressed by what we have seen and heard to talk.

|; In the morning Liz and I peep over into the rear houses where we heard
those dreadful shrieks in the night. There is no sign of life, but we discover
enough filth to breed diphtheria and typhoid throughout a large section. In the
area below our window there are several inches of stagnant water, in which :s
heaped a mass of old shoes, cabbage heads, garbage, rotten wood, bones, rags
and refuse, and a few dead rats. We understand now why Em keeps her room
ull of disinfectants. She tells us that she dare not make any appeal to the
sanitary authorities, either on behalf of their own or any other dwelling, for fear
of antagonizing the people, who consider such officials as their natural enemies.
The first visit we pay is up a number of eccentric little flights of shaky steps
interspersed with twists of passageway. The floor is full of holes. The stairs
have been patched here and there, but look perilous and sway beneath the feet,
A low door on the landing is opened by a bundle of rags antl fil:h, out of which
issues a 'soman's voice in husky tones, bidding us enter. She has La grippe.
,We have to stand very close together, for the room is small, and already
contains three women, a man, a baby, a bedstead, a stove, and indescribable
dirt \ The atmosphere is rank with impurity. The man is evidently dying.'
Seven weeks ago he was " gripped." He is now in the last stages of pnetunonia.'
Em has tried to induce him to be removed to the hospital, and he gasps oiit ^b
desire " to die in comfort in my own bed." Comfort ! The " bed " is a rack
heaped withrags. Sheets, pillow-cases, and night-clothes are. not in vogue ia,

OlRTr DRINK, AND DEATH.

163

idertng in.
int we en-
just going
tones of a
iistinguish
;e dreadful
There is a

all;*, which
ht, thereby
ng houses,
id so it has
e were told
d the door-
along the
ng without

d the night

and sleep

ig ; we are

we heard
;e discover
>n. In the
in which :s
)ones, rags
s her room
)eal to the
ig, for fear
il enemies.
haky steps

The stairs
th the feet,
t of which
La grippe.
nd already
lescribable
itly dying.'
fneumooia.'
ips oiit ^is

" is a rack
n vogue ia,

tllc.^^ms. A woman ,1^58 asleep ©•' the dir-ty flpor with her head under the
table. '?•- Another woman, who has been sharing the night watch with thei^yalid's
wife, is finishing her morning meal, in which roast oysters on the half shell are
conspicuous. A child that appears never to have been washed toddles about
the floor and tumbles over the sleeping woman's form. Em gives it some gruel,
and ascertains that its name is " Christine."

The dirt, crowding, and smells in the first place are characteristic ot half a
dozen others we visited. We penetrate to garrets and descend into cellars.
The "rear houses" are particularly dreadful. Everywhere there is decaying
garbage lying about, and the dead cats and rats are evidence that there are
mighty hunters among the gamins of the Fourth Ward. We find a number ill
from the grip and consequent maladies. None of the sufferers will entertain
the thought of seeking a hospital. One probably voices the opinion of the
majority when he declares that " they'll wash you to death there." For these
people a bath possesses more terror than the gallows or the grave.

In one rv,om, with a wee window, lies a woman dying of consumption ; wasted,
wan, c id v/retched, lying on rags and swarming with ^ e^min. Her little son,
a boy of eight years, nest^les beside her. His cheeks arc scarlet, his eyes
feverishly bright, and he has a hard cou^';.

" It's the chills, mum," says the little chap.

Six beds stand close together in another roon ; one is empty. Three days
?go a woman died there and the body has just been taken away. It hasn't
disturbed the rest of the inmates to have death present there. A woman is
lying on the wrecks of a bedstead, slats and posts sticking out in every direction
from the rags on which she reposes.

" It broke under me in the night," she explains. "A woman is sick and wants
Liz to say a prayer. We kneel on the Slthy floor. Soon all my faculties are
absorbed in speculating which will arrive '^-st, the "Amen" or the "B flat"
which is wending its way towards me. This time the bug does not get there,
^\nd I enjoy grinding him under the sole of my Slum shoe when the prayer is
ended.

In another room we find what looks like a corpse. It is a woman in an opium
stupor. Drunken men are brawling around her.

Returning to our tenement, Em and Liz meet'us, ar*^ ^re return to our expcH-
ence. >The minor details wry slightly, but the story is the same piteous tale of
woe everywhere, and crime abounding, conditipns which only change to a prisoa^
a plunge in the river, or the Potter's field.

Tba Dark Continent can show no lower de'pth'ol, degradation thai) Iffit
sounded by the dwellers of the dark alleys ja Cherry HiU. There isn't arVl;^,
missing TA that .quaver; .IBveyry siq in tbe^^ecalqgue flp^FigH'e«|(ih that f^efitof
penitentiaries ao(i',;.(iW8iM»s. ..And avan as Jta.MKwri ia^Mmit ^ ^mm\ii i vi :^^ik

I il

164

A SLUM CRUSADE

poisons the veins of our social life so the malarial fiUli^ with which the locality
reeks must sooner or later spread disease and death.

An awful picture, truly, but one which is to me irradiated with the
love-light which shone in the eyes of " Em's serious, sweet, saint-
like face."

Here is my second. It was written by a journalist who had just
witnessed the scene in Whitechapel. He writes : —

I had just passed Mr. Barnett's church when I was stopped by a small crowd
at a street corner. There were about thirty or forty men, women, and children
standing looccly together, some others were lounging on the opposite side of
the street round the door of a public-house. In the centre of the crowd was a
plain-looking little woman in Salvation Army uniform, with her eyes closed,
praying the " dear Lord that he would bless these dear people, and save them,
save them now 1 " Moved by curiosity, I pressed through the outer fringe of
the crowd, and in doing so, I noticed a woman of another kind, also invoking
Heaven, but in an altogether different fashion. Two dirty tramp-like men
were listening to the prayer, standing the v/hile smoking their short cutty
pipco. For some reason or other they had offended the woman, and she
was giving them a piece of her mind. They stood stolidly silent while she went
at them like a fiend. She had been good-looking once, but was now horribly
bloated with drink, and excited by passion. I heard both voices at the
same time. What a contrast I The prayer was over now and a oleading earnest
address was being delivered.

"You are v/rong," said the voice in the centre "you know you are; all
this misery and poverty is a proof of it. You are prodigals. You have got
away from your Father's house, and you are rebelling against Him every day.
Can you wonder that there is so much hunger, and oppression, and ivretcfaed-
ness allowed to come upon you ? In the midst of it all your Father loves you.
He wants you to return to Him ; to turn your backs upon your sins ; abandon
your evil doings ; give up the drink and the service of the devil. He has given
His Son jesus Christ to die for you. He wants to save you. Come to His feet
He is waiting. His arms are open. I know the devil has got fast hold ot
you ; but Jesus will give you grace to conquer him. He will help you to
master your wicked habits and your love of drink. But come to Him now. God is
love. He loves me. He loves you. He loves us all. He wants to save us alL"

Clear and strong the voice, eloquent with the fervour of intense
feeling, rang through the little crowd, pasf which streamed the ever-
flowing tide of East End life. And at the same time that I heard
this pure and passionate invocation to love God and be true to man I heard
a voice on the outskirts, and it said this : " You •- — rr— swine I 111 knock
the vitals out of yer. None of your — — . im^udsftce to me. •— —

e locality

with the
:t, saint-
had just

13U crowd
i children
te side of
iwd was a
;s closed,
ave them,
fringe of
invoking
-like men
hoTt cutty
and she
; she went
V horribly
!S at the
ig earnest

are; all
have got

;veiy day.

ivretched-

oves you.
abandon

has given
His feet
: hold ot
> you to
God is
eusalL"
intense
the ever-

I heard

I I heard
U knock

AT A SLUM POST.

165

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 ycu,
you dirty rascal." The man shifted his pipe. " What's the matter?" " Matter!'

screamed the virago hoarsely. " yerliie, don'tyouknowwhat'sthematter ?

I'll matter ye, you hound. By God 1 1 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 fiall 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, bittei
sarcasms of this brazen, blatant virago.

" God is love." Was it not, then, the accents of God's voice that
sounded there above the din of the street and the sv/earing 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 ot 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 oi our Slum posts, where the Officer's rooms were on the
ground floor, about fourteen other lamilies 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 oi them are in such a filthy condition, y/hen
they have a fire the ashes are lett to accumulate 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 hav£
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 v^hen
they are supposed to clean them thej' 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 th'^ walls and ceili.ng on you
while you are standing in the rooms. Some v.f the walls are covered
with marks where they have killed them. Many people fia the
fummer sit on the door steps all night, the reason for this beingv tiict

I 'ii

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i-,

166

A~SLUM CRUSADE.

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 pass it from
one doorway to another, the result being singing, shouting and fight-"
ing 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 whp are often indifierent 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 accumulation 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 *SIum Sisters nursed the' old people, and on one
occasion undertook to do C ir washing, and they brought it heme to
their copper for this purpose, but it was so infested with vermin that
they did not know how to wash it. '^^Tpieir 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 Jwo shillings and sixpence per week from the
parish." v

^Jiere is a report from the headquarters of our Slum Brigade as to
the work which. the Slum Sisters have done..

It 'iafaJmostv four c- years since the Slum Work' was r started in
London. The ^principal work done by^our first .D£;ceift was that oC

mm^

SOME SLUM TROPHIES.

167

oni the
But as
for beer
3 it from
id fight-^

which
evolting
Features
mention
he kind

Officers

leading
)e there
irk they
ley tried

until at
y could
hey got
rate, but

several
sack of
Te came
very ill.

neither
lis poor
oap and
on one
heme to
ain that
ippened
y more,
ich was
rom the

leas to

irted in
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
Saved now over two years,

a drunkard, place dirty and filthy, terribly poor.

home Ai., plenty of emplovment at cane-chair bottoming; husband now saved

also. „ V ' .

Mrs. R— Drury Lane Slum. Husband and wife, drunkards ; husband very
lazy, only worked when starved into it. We found them both out of work,
.home furnitureless, in debt. She got saved, and our lasses 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 God 1 " called out and said, *' Do you mean that if I
ask God 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 ot
his home. He found work, and now owns a coffee-stali 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 r.t two places, at one of
which he got 5s. a week, and the other los., wli jn he got saved ; this was
starvation wages, on which to keep himself, his wile, and four children. At the
IDS. a week work he had to deliver drink for a sj-irit merchant; feeling con-
demned 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 Js. a week employer
took him afterwards at l8s., and he is now earning 22s., and has left the ground-
floor Slum tenement for a better house.

H, — Nine Elms Skim, Was saved on Easter Monday, out of- work
several weeks before, is a labourer, seems very earnest, m terrible distress.
We allow his wife 2s. 6d, a week for cleaning the hall (to help themV In
addition to that, she gets another 2s. 6d, ior nursing, and on that husband, wife,
and a coupl** 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.

:''>0

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168

A SLUM CRUSAOE.

3i 'HI

llliji

T.— Of Rotherhithc 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 j^75o,
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 Walea, 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 OfKcer 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 v/ithin their ov.'n. For over two years they
have been delivered from the power of the cursed drink. Th«* .'d rookery is
gone, and now they have a comfortably-furnished home. Their children give
evidence of being truly converted, and have a lively gratitude for their father's
salvation. One boy of eight said, last Christmas Day, " I remember wheh 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 conversiotij to-day he is chief man, next to his
employer, in a large business house.

He says : —

I am perfectly satisfied that very few of the lowest strata of Society are un-
willing to work if they could get it. The wretched hand-to-mouth cvistencc
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.

RESULTS ALREADY ATTAINED.

169

The results of our work in the Slums may be put down a^ : —

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

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

3rd. A much larger amount of work is being done now than
beTore 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 use-
fulness 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. .

'I ! \\

It
fit,

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:.J

Section 2— THE TRAVELLING HOSPITAL.

Of course, there is only one real remedy for this Si.ate 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 considera-
tion 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.

J 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 desol'-'ion, with a couple of
nurses trained for the business, it might l of immense service,
without being very costly. They could have a few simple instru-
ments, 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 com-
panionship of the members oi thtir own families, brutrJ as they often
are, and would rather stay and stiSer, 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
ojyatiisataon of some system of nursing tkem in their own homes a

SICKNESS IN THE SLUMS.

171

of things,
hovels in
considera-
a country
It for the
of district

ony, could
nd dying,
couple of
e service,
le instru-
what was
i oil-stove
3ap wash,
e carried

'ho know
attending
ibodes of
>le when
eply that
the com-
»ey often
•f all the
m go to

we have
ikes the
iOmes 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 m a cup of tea. It is really a mysteiy
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 fooJ. 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 vtHio need the continual application of hot
poultices, but who are left with a cold one for hours.

In Marylcbone the Officers visited a poor old woman who was very ill. She
lived in an underground back kitchen, with hardly a ray of light ind 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 fu.-niture 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 cmable 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 downstair she fell
•gw. The neighbour picked her up and put her back to bed, where for

I ' .'I

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Mi'.;-;

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172

THE TRAVELLING HOSPITAL;

a lung time she lay thorouglily prostrated. The Orficers took hc'> case in hand,
fed, and nursed her, cleaned her room and generally looked after licr.

In anothctdark slum the Officers found n poor old woman in an underground
back kitchen. She was suffering with some complaint. When they knocked at
the door she was terrified for fear it was the landlord. The room was in a most
filthy condition, never having been cleaned. She had a penny paraffin lamp
which filled the room with smoke. The old woman was at times totally unable
to do anything for herself. The Officers looked after her.

GectioI

Oui

)'■:

CEcriON 3— REGZNERATION OF OUR CRIMINALS.-THE PRISON

GATE DRIGAUE '

Our Prisons ought to be reforming institutions, which should turn
men out better than v.len they entered their doors. As a matter of
fact they are often quite the reverse. There are few persons in this
world more to be pitied than the poor fellow who has served his first
term of imprisonment or finds himself outside the gaol doors without
a character, and often without a friend in the world. Here, again,
the process of centralization, gone on apace of late years, however
desirable it may be in tiie interests of administration, tells with
disastrous effects on the poor wretches who are its victims.

In the old. times, when a man was sent to prison, the t'^ol
stood within a stone's throw of his horfie. When he came out he was
at any rate close to his old friends and relations, who would take him in
and give him a helping hand to start once more a nev/ life. Butwhathas
liappcned owing to the desire of the Government to do away with as
many local gaols as possible ? The prisoners, when convicted, are
sent long distances by rail to the central prisons, and on coming out
find themselves cursed with the brand of the gaol bird, so far from
home, character gone, and with no one to fall back upon for counsel,
or to give them a helping hand. No wonder it is reported that
vagrancy, has much increased in some large towns on account of
discharged prisoners taking to begging, having no other resource.

In the competition for v.;ork no employer is likely to take a man
wh<i is fresh from gaol ; nor arc mistresses likely to engage a
servant whose last character was, her discharge from one of Her
Majesty's prisons. It is incredible how muth mischief is often done
by well-meaning persons, who, in struggling towards the attainment
of an excellent end — such, for instance, as that of economy an4
efficiency in prison administration — forget entirely the bearing which
theif reforms ma^have upon the prisoners themselves.

p."

r »■■

-, I; . : . i;

> ' .1

174

THE PRISON GATE BRIGADE.

The Salvation Army has at least one great qualification for dealing
with this question. I believe I am in the proud position of being at the
head of the only religious body which has always some of its
members in gaoi for conscience' sake. We are also one of the few
religious bodies which can boast that many of those who are in our
rgnks have gone through terms of penal servitude. We, therefore,
know the prison at both ends. Some iijen go to gaol because they
are better than their neighbours, most men because they are worse.
Martyrs, patriots, reformers of all kinds belong to the first category.
No great cause has ever achieved a triumph before it has furnished
a certain quota to the prison population. The repeal of an unjust
law is seldom carried until a certain number of those who are
labouring for the reform have experienced in their own persons the
hardships of fine and imprisonment. Christianity itself would never
have triumphed over the Paganism of ancient Rome had rhe early
Christians not been enabled to testify from the dungeon and the
arena as to the sincerity and serenity of soul with which they could
confront their persecutors, and from that .ime down to the success-
ful struggles of our people for the right of public meeting at Whit-
church and elsewhere, the Christian religion and the liberties of men
have never failed to demand their qu ta of martyrs ^or the faith.

When a man has been to prison in the best of causes he learns to
look at the question of prison discipline with a much more sympa-
thetic eye for those who are sent there, even for the worst offences,
than judges and legislators who only look at (he prison from the
outside. " A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind," and it is an
immense advantage to us in dealing witli the criminal classes that
many of our best Officers have themselves I^een in a prison cell.
Our people, thank God, have never learnt to regard a prisoner as a
mere convict — A 234. He is ever a human being to them, who is to
Le cared for and hoked after as a mother looks after her ailing child.
At present there seems to be but little likelihood of any real reform
in the interior of our prisons. We have therefore to wait until the
men come outside, in order to see what can be done. Our work
begins when that of the prison authorities ceases. We have already
had a good deal of experience in this work, both here and in Bombay,
ir Ceylon, in South Africa, in Au.stralia and elsewhere, and as the nett
result of our experience we proceed now to set fort!i the measures
we intend to adopt, some of which are already in .^.successful
operation.

possil

King'

One

in di

great

whic

can

only

•I !,

»r dealing
■ing at the
e of its
|f the few
re in our
therefore,
use ihe3'
Ire worse,
category,
rnished
^n unjust
who are
sons the
lid never
the early
and the
ey could
succcss-
at Whit-
' of men
ith.

learns to
sympa-
Jffenccs,
rom the
it is an
3es that
on <:ell.
;r as a
lo is to
r child,
reform
itil the
■ work
i ready
mbaj',
e nett
sures
issful

WHA T WE PROPOSE TO DO FOR THE PRISONERS. 175

1. We propose the opening of Homes for this class as near a?
possible to the diflFerent gaols. One for men has just been taken at
King's Cross, and will be occupied as soon as it can be got ready.
One lor women must follow immediately. Others will be required
in different parts of the Metropolis, and contiguous to each of its
great prisons. Connected v/ith these Homes will be workshops in
which the inmates will be regularly employed until such time as we
can get them work elsewhere. F'or this class must also work, not
only as a discipline, but as the means for their own support.

2. In order to save, as far as possible, first offenders from me
contamination of prison life, and to. prevent the formation of further
evil companionships, and the recklessness which follows thf loss of
character entailed by imprisonment, we would offer, in the Police
and Criminal Courts, to take such offenders under our v/ing as were
anxious to come and willing to accept our regulations. The confidence
of both magistrates and prisoners would, Wc *aink, soon be secured,
the friends of the latter would be mostly ..■ our side, and the probability,
therefore, is that we should soon have a large number of cases placed
under our care on what is known as *' suspended sentence," to be
brought up for judgment when called upon, the record of each
sentence to be wiped out on report ^eing favourable of their conduct
in the Salvation Army Home

3. We should seek access to the prisons in order to gain such
aciuaintance with the prisoners as would enable us the more effectu-
ally to benefit them on their discharge. This privilege, we think,
would be accorded us by the prison authorities when they became
acquainted with the nature of our work and the remarkable results
which followed it. The right of entry into the gaols has already
been conceded to our people in Australia, ^here they have free
access to, and communion with, the mmates while undergoing their
sentences. Prisoners are recommended to come to us by the gaol
authorities, who also forward to our people information of the date
and hour when they leave, in order that'they may be met on their
release.

4. We propose to meet the criminals at the prison gates with the
offer of immediate admission to our Homes. The general rule is for
them ,to be met by their friends or old associates, who ordinarily
belong to the same class. Any v»'ay, it would be an exception to the
rule were they not all alike believers in the comforting and cheering
power of the intoxicating cup. Hence the public-house js invariably

I I

'176

tHE PRISON GATE BRIGADE.

adjourned to, where plans for further crime are often decided upon
straiglit away, resulting frequently, before many weeks are past, in
the return of the liberated convict to the confinement from which he
has just escaped. Having been accustorned during confinement to
the implicit submission of themselves to the will of "another, the
newly-discharged prisoner is easily inOuenced by whoever first gets
liold of him. Now, v/e propose to be beforehand with these old
companions by taking the gaol-bird under our wing and setting
before him an open door of hope the moment he crosses the
threshold of the prison, assuring him that if he is willing to work
and comply with our discipline, he never need know want any more.

5. We shall seek from the authorities the privilege of supervising
and reporting upon those who are discharged with tickets-of-leave,
so as to free them from the humiliating and harassing duty of
ha>^ing to report themselves at the police stations.

6. We shall find suitable employment for each individual. If not
in possession of some useful trade or calling we will teach him one.

7. After a certain length of residence in these Homes, if consistent
evidence is given of a sincere purpose to live an honest life, he will
be transferred to the Farm Colony, unless in the meanwhile friends
or old employers take him off our hands, or some other form of
occupation is obtained, in which case he will still be the object of
watchful care.

We shall offer to all the ultimate possibility of being restored
to Society in this country, or transferred to commence life afresh in
another.

With respect to results we can speak very positively, for although
our operations up to the present, except for a short time some three
years ago, have been limited, and unassisted by the important acces-
sories above described, yet the success that ha? attended them ha.-i
been most remarkable. The following are a few instances which
might be multiplied : —

J. W. was met at prison gate by the Captain of the Home and offered help.
He declined to come at once as he had friends in Scotland who he thought
would help him ; but. if they failed, he promised to comp It was his first
rnnviction, and he had six luuiilhs for robbing his employer. His trade was
that Of a baker. In a few 4ays he presented himself at the Home, and was
received. In the course of a few weeks, he professed conversion, and gave
every evidence of the change. For four months he was cook and baker in the
kitchen, and at last a situation as second hand was offered for him, witl^e

Ua Mi ii ii i i i in iiii r- i

ded upon
past, in
which he
lement to
ther, the
first gets
Jiese old
setting
sscs the
to work
"Jy more.
>ervising
of-Ieave,
duty of

If not
n one.

nsistent
he will

friends
rorm of
Jject of

cstftrcd
res'i in

:hough
i three
accc'o-
'n lia.-s
wliich

! help,
ought
s first
e was
i was
gave
n the

SOME PRISON TROPHIES.

177

, S. Sergeant-major of the Congress Hall Corps. That is three years ago. He
; there to-day, saved, and satisfactory ; a thoroughly useful and respectable man.
J. P. was an old offender. He was met at Millbank on the expiration of his
!st term (five years), and brought to the Home, where he worked at his trad6 —
tailor. Eventually he got a situation, and has since married. He has now a
ood home, the confidence of his neighbours, is well saved, and a soldier of the
lackney Corps.

C. M. Old offender, and penal servitude case. Was induced to come to the
lome, got saved, wa. .here for a long period, offered for the work, and went
ito the Field, was L iitenant for two years, and eventually married. He is
o\v a respectable meclianic and soldier of a Corps in Derbyshire.
J. W. Was manager m a large West End millinery establishment. He was
cnt out with two ten-pound packages of silver to change. On his .way he met
companion and was induced to take a drink. In the tavern the companion
nade an excuse to go outside and did not return, and W. found one of the
packages had been abstracted from his outside pocket. He was afraid to
eturn, and decamped with the other into the country. Whilst in a small town
16 strolled into.a Mission Hall; there happened to be a hitch in the proceedings,
he organist was absent, a volunteer was called or, and W., being a good
nusician, offered .to piay. It seems the music took hold of him. In the middle
of the hymn he walked out and went to the police station and gave himself up.
He got six months. When he came out, he saw that Happy George, an ex-gaol
bird, was announced at the Congress Hall. He went to the meeting and was
induced to come to the Home. He eventually got saved, and to-day he is at the
iicad of a Mission work in the provinces.

" Old Dan " was a penal servitude case, and had had several long sentences.
He came into the Home and was saved. He managed the bootmaking there
for ;^ long time. He has since gone into business at Hackney, and is married.
He is of four years' standing, a thorough respectable tradesman, and a
Salvationist.

Charles C. has done in the a^^gregate twenty-tnree years' penal servitude.
Was out on licence, and got saved at the Hull Barracks. At that time he
had neglected to report himself, and had destroyed his licence, taking an
assumed name. When he got saved he ga^e himself up, and was taken
before the magistrate, who, instead of sending him back to fulfil his sentence,
gave him up to the Army. He was sent to us from Hull by our representative,
is now in our factory and doing well. He is still under poliae supervision for
five years.

H. Kelst>. Also a licence man. He had neglected to report himselt, and vtbis
arrested. 'While before the magistrate he said he was tired of dishonesty, and
wafiild go m th* SalVati<itt Army if they would discharBe him. He,^%3 sent

i( f

;ii:i::-^;i!;'i

i-l

t78

THE PRISC^N GATE BRIGADE.

G^M

back to penal servitude. Application was made by us to the Home Seci
on his behalf, and Mr. Matthews granted his release. ITe was handed ovj .. ^
our Officers at Bristol, brought to London, and is now in the Factory, aavecx „'•
domgwell.^ L^Uy.ai

Pvl'W. 'belongs to Birmingham, is in his forty-ninth year, and has y -
inand out of prison all his life. He was at Redhill Reformatory five years,
his? last term was five years' penal servitude. The Chaplain at Pentor
advised him if he really meant reformation to seek the Salvation Army oi
release. He came to Thames Street, was sent to the Workshop and profe
salvation the following Sunday at the Shelter. This is three months ago.
is quite satisfactory, industrious, contented and seemingly godly.

A. B., Gentleman lonfer, good prospects, drink and idleness broke up
home, killed his wife, and got him into gaol. Presbyterian minister, friend o
famjiy, tried to reclaim him, but unsuccessfully. He entered the Prison
Home, became thoroughly saved, distributed handbills for the Home, and
mately got work in a large printing and publishing works, where, after tl
years' service, he now occupies a most responsible position. Is an elder in
Presbyterian Church, restored to his" family, and the possessor of a happy ho

W. C, a native of London, a good-for-nothing lad, idle and dissolute. W'
leaving England his father warned him that if he didn't alter he'd end his d
on the^gallows. Served various sentences on all sorts of charges. Over
years'ago wc took him in hand, admitted him into Prison Gate Brigade Ho
where he became truly saved ; he got a job of painting, which he had learnt
gaol, and has married a woman who had formerly been a procuress, but had pas:
through our Rescued Sinners* Home, and there became thoroughly convert!
jTogether they have braved the storms of life, both working diligently for thi
living^^They have now a happy little home of their own, and. are doing v
iwell:

F.;JJC.^ the "son of a Government officer, a drunkard. *^gambler,Torger, ai
all-round blackguard ; served numerous sentences for forgery. ^1 On his
discharge was admitted into Prison Gate Brigade Home, where he stayed aboi
five months and became truly saved. Although jfciis, health was completel
shattered from the effects of his sinful life, he steadfastly resisted all temptatio
to drink, and kepttrue to Gpd. ".Through advertising -in^theW^tf/ Cry, he fou
his lost son and daughter, who are delighted with the wonderful change ii
their father. They have become regular attendants at our meetings in thi
Temperance Hall.;. He now keeps a coffee-stall, is doing well, and properl;
saved.

G. A.; 72, spent 23 years in gaol, last sentence^ two years for burglary; wai
ti' drunkard,'' gambler,' and swearer. " Met on .his discharge by the Prison Gatf]
Brigfide, admitted into rfeS^^here^ he nswain^ {oni^i^vpi^Mi^^^i
ln\l£ sated: HcJs liviugiiiLConsistent,jadly.,Ufc and is.in_.so!iplo.XJfl«Qt»

Y.
lived, w^
tuken iij
found 111
:;nd altj
ihat he
xMony i4
M. j[
I'aough
Austra
drink,
find hi
andw
Prisot
positi'
B.
home
savet
versi
Ukel
in a
posi

rai

SOME PRISON TROPHIES."

179

•<p("^

le Heme Secif — "WT .-•:■■ ■■^^'
Kas haiidc'I I ^*^'i ^g*^ 64, opium-smoker, gambler, blackguard, separated from wife and
Factory. .ia»» tfamily, and eventually landed in gaol, was met on his discharge and admitted

^ory, Bavecf

into Prison Gate Brigade Home, was saved, and is now restored to his wife and

'ear, arid has l^^'"*'i'' ^"^ giving satisfaction in his employment.

toiy five yea I ^' "'* ^^^ ^" ^^^^' '°^^"& thieving, swearing, disreputable young man, who

ain at Pent J 'Jved, when out of gaol, with the low prostitutes of Little Bourke Street. Was

ation Armv I ^•-^^" *" ^^^^ ^y °^^ Prison Gate Brigade Officers, who got him saved, then

hop and prof 1 f°""** '"•" work. After a lew months he expressed a desire to work for God,

months an I ""^ although a cripple, and having to use a crutch, such was his earnestness

ly, I that he was accepted and has done good service as an Army officer. His testi-

^ss broke I '^*o"y '^ 8°°^ ^"^ ^^^ ''^^ consistent. He is, indeed, a marvel of Divine grace.

M. J., a young man holding a high position in England, got into a fast set;
thought a change to the Colonies would be to his advantage. Started for
Australia with ;^20O odd, of which he spent a good portion on board ship in
drink, soon dissipated the balance on landing, and woke up one morning to
find himself in gaol, v/ith deKriTira tremens on him, no money, his luggage lost,
and without a friend on the whole continent. On his discharge he entered our
Prison Gate Home, became converted, and is now occupying a responsible
position in a Colonial Bank.

B. C, a man of good birth, education, and position ; drank himself out of
home and friends and into gaol, on leaving which he came to our Home ; was
saved, exhibiting by an earnest and truly consistent life the depth of his con-
version, being made instrumental while with us in the salvation of many who,
like himself, had come to utter destitution and crime through drink. He is now
in a first-class situation, getting ;^30o a year, wife and family restored, the
possessor of a happy home, and the love of God shed abroad in it.

I do not, produce these samples, which are but a few, taken at
random from the many, for the purpose of boasting. The power
which has wrought these miracles is not in me nor in my Officers ;
it IS power which comes down from above. But I think i may
fairly point to these cases, in which our instrumentality has been
blessed, to the plucking of these brands from the burning, as affording
some justification for the plea to be enabled to go on with this work
on a much more extended scale. If any other organisation, religious
or se<;u1"r, can shov/ similar trophies as the result of such limited
ogewitiqn^ as ourshave hitherto been among the criminal population,
1 am willing to give place to them. All that I want is to have the
' ork done.

»ster. friend of
the Prison
e Home, and
here, after tli
's an elder in
o( a happy 1,0,
dissolute. VV,
'^'"^ end bis ill
'arges. Over
- Brigade Hoi
he had JearntI
's. but had pas
'"8hly converti
•gent/y for th
I -are doing

err forger, ai
^l On his I
e stayed aboi
as completel
'" temptatjo
<^ry. he fou
"J change n
•"'ngs in th
and properlj

rglaiy;
Prisgn

I i

i ' I

■I H

'■■f^'ii

\wm.

wmmmmmm

¥ \

, Section 4.— EFFECTUAL DELIVERANCE FOR THE DRUNKARD.

' The number, misery, and hopeless condition of the slaves of strong
drink, of both sexes, have been already dealt with at considerable
length.

We have seen that there are in. Great Britnn one million of men
and women, or thereabouts, completely under the domination of this
cruel appetite. The utter helplessness of Society to deal with the
drunkard has been proved again and again, and confessed on all
hands by those who have had experience on the subject As wc
have before said, the general feeling of all those who have tried their
hands at this kind of business is one of despair. They think the
present race of drunkards must be left to perish, that every species
of effort having proved vain, the energies expended in the
endeavour to rescue the parents will be laid out to greater
advantages upon the children.

There is a great deal of truth in all this. Our own efforts have
been successful in a very remarkable degree. Some of the bravest,
most devoted, and successful workers in our ranks are men and
women who were orice the most abject slaves of the intoxicating
cup. Instances of this have been given already. We might
multiply them by thousands. Still, when compared with the ghastly
array which the drunken army presents to-day, those rescued are
comparatively few. The great reason for this is the simple fact that
the vast majority of those addicted to the cup are its veritable
slashes. No amount of reasoning, or earthly or religious considerations,
can have any efiect upon a man who is so completely under the
mastery of this passion that he cannot break away from it, although
he sees the most terrible consequences staring him in the face.

The drunkard promises and vows, but promises and vows in
ttititi Occasionally he will put forth frantic efforts to deliver himself,
but only Jo fall again in the presence of the opportunity. ,_ The,

'■1

A SUCCESSFUL RESCUE.

181

INKARD.

of strong
isidcrable

n of men
>ii of this
with the
ed on all
As wc
ned their
think the
y species
in the
greater

rts have
bravest,
len and
xicating
might
ghastly
Jed are
let that
Ti table
ations,
er the
hough

ws in

tnself,

The

batiable crave controls him. He cannot get away from it. It
Impels him to drink, whether he will or not, and, unless delivered
an Almighty hand, he will drink himself into a drunkard's grave
Id a drunkard's hell.

Our annals team with successful rescues effected from the ranks of
|e drunken army. The following will not only be examples of this,
lit will tend to illustrate the strength and madness of the passion

lich masters the slave to strong drink.

[Barbara. — She liad sunk about as low as any woman could when we found her.

F;cim the age of eighteen, when her parents had forced her to tlirow over her

lilor sweetheart and marry a man with "good prospects," she had been goin?^

Ic;idily down.

She did not love her husband, and soon sought comfort from the little public-

i;:c only a few steps fiein her own door. Quarrels in her home quickly gave

bee to fighting, angry curses, and oaths, and soon her life became one of the

tost wretched in the place. Her husband made no pretence of caring for he;,

Ind when she v«?.s ill' and unable to cam money by selling fish in the street??, lu;

ifould go off for a few months, leaving her to keep the house and supf^jd:

jerself ana babies as best she could. Out of her twenty years of married liic,

(en were spent in these on-and-off separations. And so she got to live for only

bne thing — drink. It was life to her ; and ti:e msd craving grew to be irresistible.

The vi^oman who looked after her at the birth of her child refused to fetch her

whisky, so v/hen she had done all pho could and left the mother to rest,

barbara crept out of bed and crawled slowly down the stairs over the way to

[he tap-room, where she sat drinking with thy baby, not yet an hour old, in her

arms. So things went on, until her ijfe got so (uibearahle that she determined to

Save done with it. Taking her two eldest children with her, she went down to the

[l)ay, and deliberately threw them both into the water, jumping in herself after

Ifhem. " Oh, mither, mither, dinna droon me 1 " wailed her little three-year-old

[Sarah, but she was determined and held theirk under the water, till, seeing a boat

[put out to the rescue she knew that she was discovered. Too late to do it

[now, she thought, and, holding both children, swam quickly back to the shore. A

made-up story about having fallen into the water satisfied the boatman, and

Barbara leturncd home dripping and baffled. But little Sarah did not recover

from the shock, and after a few weeks her short life eoded, and slu: was Laid in

[the Ccmetciy,

Yet another time, goaded to desperation, she tried to take her life by hanging
herself, but a neiglibour came in and cut her down unconscious, but still living,
SJie became a terror to all the neighbourhood, and her name was the bye-word
for daring and desperate actions. But our Open-Aiv Meetings attracted her, she
came to the Barracks, got saved, and was delivered from her love of drink and sin.

'.;t.i,

:.— rr--r=:r=:; 3:ngrrr;:xar.'S

!l'

182 EFFEOiUAL DELIVERANCE FOR THE DRUNKARD."

,. From being a dread her home became a sort of house of refuge in the -iittla ^l wei
low street where she lived ; other wives as unhappy as herself would come in lorl|)jjyi of his
advice and help. Anyone knew that Barbie was changed, and loved to dol " I woi
all she could for her neighbours. A few months ago she came up to the CaptaiiVsli^jnonade
-in great distress over a woman who lived just opposite. She had been cruelly! And M
kicked and cursed by her husband, who had finally bolted the door against her,
and she had turned to Barbie as the only hope. And of course Barbie took hcil
in, with her rough-and-ready kindness got her to bed, kept out the other womcnj
who crowded round to sympathise and declaim against the husband's brutalitv I
was both nurse and doctor for the poor woman till her child was born andl
laid in the mother's arms. And then, to Barbie's distress, she could do no morcj
for the woman, not daring to be absent longer, got up as best she could, andl
crawled on hands and knees down the little steep step?, across the street, andl
back to her own door. " But, Barbie ! "exclaimed the Captain, horrified, "youj
should have nursed her, and kept her until she was strong enough." But Barbiel
answered by reminding the Captain of "John's" fearful temper, and how itl
might cost the woman her life to be absent from her home more than a couple)
of hours.

The second is the case of—

Maggie. — She had a home, but seldom was sober enough to reach it at nights. !
She would fall down on the doorsteps until found by some passer-by or
policeman.

In- one of her mad freaks a boon-companion happened to offend her. He ]
was a little hunch-back, and a fellow-drunkard ; but without a moment's hesita- 1
tion, Maggie seized him and pushed him head-foremost down the old-
fashioned wide sewer of the Scotch town. Had not some one seen his heels '
kicking out and rescued him, he would surely have been suffocated.

Oiie winter's night Maggie had been drinking heavily, fighting, too, as usua',
and she staggered only as far, on her way home, as the narrow chain-pic
Here s-he stumbled and fell, and lay along on the snow, the blood oozing froi:-.
her cuts, and her hair spread out in a tangled mass.

At 5 in the morning, some factory girls, crossing the bridge to their work,
came upon her, lying stiff and stark amidst the snow and darkness.

To rouse her from her drunken sleep was hard, but to raise her from tho
ground was still harder. The matted hair and Wood bad frozen fast to th;;
earth, and Maggie was a prisoner. After trying to free her in different ways,
and receiving as a reward volleys of abuse and bad language, one of the gir! :
ran for a kettle of boiling water, and by pouring it all around her, thev succeeded
by degrees in melting her on to her feet again !

But she came to our Barracks, and got soundly converted, and the Captaii'
Was rewarded^for^AightsaDd days of toil by seeing her a saved and sober womao.

I i

in the.'4ittl
I come in ibrl
loved to uol
theCaptain'sl
been cruelly!
>r against herj
irbie took he\\
other womeiil
nd's brutalit"
'as born ant]
d do no more,
ihe could, and
he street, andf
orrified, "you
" But Barbie
r, and how it
than a couplej

h it at nights. I
isser-by or a I

(nd her. He I
nent's hesita-
»wn the old- 1
:en his heels i

oo, as usua',
' chain-pic:
oozing fro;::

their work,

er from th.;
fast to th:
erent ways
of the girl:
' succeeded

le Captair
»er womao,

A WONDERFUL CASE.

183

All went ricbt till a friend asked her to his house, to drink his health, and
thai of his newly-married wife.

" I wouldn't ask you to take anything strong." he said. " Drink to me with this
lemonade."

And Maggie, nothing suspecting, drank, and as she drank tasted in the glass
her old enemy, whisky I . ' "

The man laughed at h ' dismay, but a friend rushed off to tell the Captain.

"I may be in time, she has not really gone back": and the Captain ran to the
house, tying her bpnnet strings as she ran.

" It's no good — keep awa' — I don't want to see'er. Captain," wailed Maggie ;
" let me have some more — oh, I'm on fire inside."

But the Captain was firm, and taking her to her home, she locked herself in
with the woman, and sat witn the key in her pocket, while Maggie, half mad
with craving, paced the floor like a caged animal, threatening and entreating by
terms.

" Never while I live," was all the answer she could get ; so she turned to the
door, and busied hersell there a moment or two. A clinking noise, The Captain
started up — to see the door open and Maggie rush through it 1 Accustomed
to stealing and all its " dodges," she had taken the lock off the door, and was
away to the nearest public-house.

Down the stairs. Captain after her, into the gin palace; but before the
astonished publican could give her the d.-ink she wqis clamouring for, the
" bonnet " was by her side, " If you dare to serve her, I'll break the glass before
it reaches her lips. She shall not have any 1 " and so Maggie was coaxed away,
and shielded till the passion was over, and she was herself once more.

But the man ^ho gave her the whisky durst not leave his house for weeks.
The roughs got to know of tlic trap he bad laid for her, and would have lynched
him could they have got hold of him. . i.

The third is the case of Rose.

Rose was ruined, deserted, and left to the streets when only a girl of thirteen,
by a once well-to-do man, who is now, we believe, closing his, days in a workhouse
io the North of England.

Fatherless, motherless, and you might almost say friendless, Rose trod the
broad way to destruction, with all its misery and shame, for twelve long years.
Her wild, passionate nature, writhing under the wrong suffered, sought forget-
ftilnass in the intoxicating cup, and she soon became a notorious drunkard.
Seveaty-four times during her career she was dragged before the magistrates,
And seventy-four times, with one exception, she was punished, but the seventy-
fourth time she was as far off reformation as ever. The one exception happened
on the Queen's Jubilee Day. On seeing her weH-known face again before him
the magistrate enquired, " How many times has this woman been here before 3

%rl

1184 EFFECTUAL DELIVERANCE FOR THE DRUNKARD.

The Police Superintendent answered. " Fifty times." The magistrate remarked,
in somewhat grim humour, " Then this is her Jubilee," and. moved by the coinci-
dence, he let her go free. So Rose spent her jubilee out of prison.

It is a wonder that the dreadful, drunken, reckless, dissipated life she lived did
not hurry her to an early grave ; it did affect her reason, and for three weeks
she was locked up in Lancaster Lunatic Asylum, having really gone mad through
drink and sin. "

In evidence of her reckless nature, it is said that after her second imprison-
ment she vowed she would never again walk to the ptilice station; con-
sequently, when in her wild orgies the police found it necessary to arrest
her, they had to ge«- her to the police station as best they could, somc-
tnnes by requisitioning a wheelbarrow or a cart, or the use of a stretcher, and
sometimes they had to carry her right out. On one occasion, towards the close
of her career, when driven to the last-named method, four policemen were carry-
ing her to the station, and she was extra violent, screaming, plunging and biting,
when, either by accident or design, on*" of the policemen let go of her head, and
it came in contact with the curbstone, causing the blood to pour forth in a stream.
As soon as they placed her in the cell the poor creature caught the blood in her
hands, and literally washed Ijer face with it. On the following morning she
presented a pitiable sight, and before taking her into the court the police wanted
to wash her, but she declared she would drav/ any man's blood vi^ho attempted
to put a finger upon her ; they had spilt her blood, and she would carry it into
the court as a wilness against them. On coming out of gaol for the last time,
she met with a few Salvationists beating the drum and singing " Oh ! the Lamb,
the bleeding Lamb ; He was found worthy." Rose, struck with the song, and
impressed with the very faces of the people, followed them, saying to herself,
" I never before heard anything like that, or seen such happy looking peopJe."
She came into the Barracks ; her heart was broken : she found her way to the
Penitent Form, and Christ, with His own precious blood, washed her sins away.
She arose from her knees and said to the Captain, " It is all right now."

Three months after her conversion a great meeting was held in the largest
iiall in the town, where she was known to almost every inhabitant. There were
about three thousand people present. Rose was called upon to give her testi-
mony to the power of God to save. A more enthusiastic wave of sympathy
never greeted any speaker than that which met her from that crowd, every
one of whom was familiar with her past history. After a few broken words, in
which she spoke of the wonderful change that had taken place, a cousin, who.
Jike herself, had lived a notoriously evil life, came to the Cross.

Rjse is now War C*y sergeant. She goes into the brothels and gin palaces
^.x\<.\ other haunts of vice, from which she was rescued, and sells more papers
iilnn'any other Soldier.

ID.

tc remarked,
y the coinci-

he h'ved did
three weeks
nad through

id imprison-

ation; con-

y to arrest

'uld, some-

tcher, and

ds the close

were carry-

and biting,

r head, and

in a stream.

lood in her

orning she

lice wanted

attempted

arry it into

e last time,

the Lamb,

song, and

to herself,

ig peopJe."

ivay to the

sins away.
If

le largest
here were
her testi-
sympathy
I'd, every
words, in
sin, who,

I palaces
e papers

DELIVER THEM FROM TEMPTATION.

185

The Superintendent of Police, soon after her convrrsion. told the Captain of
the Corps that in rescuing Rose a more wonderful work had been done than !:«
had seen in all the years gone by.

S. was a native of Lancaiiliire, the son of poor, but pious, parents. lie was
saved when sixteen years of age. He was first an Evangelist, then a City
Missionary for five or six years, and afterwards a Baptist Minister. He
then fell under the influence of drink, resigned, and became a rommcrci:il
traveller, but lost his berth through drink. He was then an insurance agent,
and rose to be cupenntondent, but was again dismissed through drink.
During his drunken career he had delirium tremens four times, attemptcil
suicide three times, sold up six homes, was in the workhouse with his
wife and family three times. His last contrivance for getting drink was to
preach mock sermons, and offer mock prayers in the tap-rooms.

After one of these blasphemous performances in a public-house, on the words,
" Are you Saved ? " he was chall-jngcd to go to the Salvation Barracks. He
went, and the Captain, who knew him well, at once made for him, to plead for
his soul, but S. knocked him down, and rushed back to the public-house for
more drink. He was, hov/cver, so moved by what he had heard that he was
unable to raise the liquor to his mouth, although he made th.ree attempts. He
again returned to the meeting, and again quitted it for the public-house. He
could not rest, and for the third time he relumed to the Barracks. As he entered
the last time the Soldiers were singing :—

' Depth of mercy, can there be •

Mercy still reserved for me ?
,-,, Can my God his wrath forbear ?

r , Me, the chief of Sinners, spare?"

This song impressed him stfJl fnrther ; he wept, and remained in the Barracks
under deep conviction until midnight. He was drunk all the next day, vainly
trying to drown his convictions. The Captain visited him at night, but was
quickly thrust out of the house. He was there again next morning, and prayed
and talked with S. for nearly two hours. Poor S. was in despair. He persisted
that there was no mercy tor him. After a long struggle, however, hope spriuir:
up, he fell upon hi«i knees, confessed his sins, and obtained forgiveness.

When this happened, his furniture consisted of a soap-box for a table, ai d
starch boxes for chairs. His wife, himself, and three children, had not sle| ■
m a bed for three years. He has now a happy family, a comfortable home, and
has been the means of leading numbers of other slaves of sin to the Saviour, and
to a truly happy life.

Similar cases, desci ibing the deliverance of drunkards from the
bondage of strong driik, could ^)e produced indefinitely. There are
Oificers marching in our ranks to-day, who where once gnpped by,

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186 EFFECTUAL DELIVERANCE FOR THE DRUNKARD.'

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this fiendish fascination, who have had their fetters biioken, atid are
now free men in the Army. .Still the mighty torrent of Alcohol,
fed by ten thousand manufactories, sweeps on, bearing with it, I
have no hesitatiun in saying, the foulest, bloodiest tidie that ever
flowed from earth to eternity. The Church of the living God
ought not — and to say nothing about religion, the people who have
any humanity ought not, to rest without doing something desperate
to rescue this half of a million who are in the eddying mael-
strom. We purpose, therefore, the taking away of the people from
the temptation which they cannot resist. We would to God that
the temptation could be taken away from them, that every house
licensed to send forth the black streams of bitter death were closed,
and closed for ever. But this will not be, we fear, for the present
at least.

While in one case drunkenness may be resolved into a habit, in
another it must be accounted a disease. What is wanted in the one
case, therefore, is some method of removing the man out of the
sphere of the temptation, and in the other for treating the passion
as a disease, as we should any other physic^] affection, bringing to
bear upon it every agency, hygienic and otherwise, calculated to
effect a cure.

The Dalrymple Homes, in which, on the order of a magistrate and
by their own consent. Inebriates can be confined for a time, ha. e
been a partial success in dealing with this class in both these
respects ; but they are admittedly too expensive to be of any service
to the poor. It could never be hoped that working people of them-
selves, or with the assistance of thchr fcieads, would be able to pay
two pounds a week for the privilege of being removed away from the
licensed temptations to- drink which surround them at every step.
Moreover, could they obtain admission they would feel themselves
anything but at ease amongst the class who avail themselves
of these institutions. We propose to establish Homes which will
contemplate the deliverance, not of ones and twos, but of mjulti-
tudcs, and which will be accessible 'to the poor, or to peciions of any
clags choosing to use them. This is our national vice, and it
demands nothing short of a national remedy — anyway, one of
proportions large enough to be counted national.

I. To begin with, there will be. City Homes, into which a man
can be taken, watched over, kept out of the way of temptation, and if
possible. delivered from the power. of this dreadful habit.

In com
business
to and fr
tion for t

2. Coi
principle
binding
would re

The g<
thing as

The
discussic
be objec
and that
before t
police r
enormoi

We !
possible
humanii
impriso
them t .
TAich ar

THE SOCIAL EVIL.

187

In some cases persons would be taken in who are engaged in
business in the City in the day, being accompanied by an attendant
to and from the Home. In this case, of course, adequate remunera-
tion for this extra care would be required.

2. Country Homes, which we shall conduct on the Dalrymplc
principle ; that is, taking persons for compulsory confinement, they
binding themselves by a boni confirmed by a magistrate that they
would remain for a certain period.

The general regulations for both establishments would some-
thing as follows : —

(I). There would be only one class in each establishment. II it was
found that the rich and the poor did not work comfortably
togetheri separate institutions must be provided.

(2). All would alike have to engage in some remunerative form of era«
ployment. Outdoor work would be preferred, but indoor employ-
ment would be arranged for those for whom it was most suitable,
and in such weather and at such times of the year when garden
work was impracticable.

v3). A charge of los. per week would be made. This could be
remitted when there was no ability to pay it.

The usefulness of such Homes is too evident to need any
discussion. There is one class of unfortunate creatures who must
be objects of pity to all who have any knowledge of their existence,
and that is, those men and women who are being continually dragged
before the magistrates, of whom we are constantly reading in the
police reports, whose lives are spent in and out of prison, at an
enormous cost to the country, and without any benefit to themselves.

We should then be able to deal v^ith this class. It would be
possible for a magistrate, instead of sentencing the poor wrecks of
humanity to the sixty-fourth and one hundred and twentieth term of
imprisonment, to send them to this Institution, by simply remanding
them to come up for sentence when called for. How much cheaper
TAich an arrangement would be for the country 1

; :1

■Ip-

■■! ■■^;'■:^

wmmm

wmm

Section 5.— A NEW WAY OF ESCAPE FOR LOST WOMEN.

THE RESCUE HOMES. _ ' '

Perhaps there is no evil more destructive of the best interests of
Society, or confessedly more difficult to deal with remedially, than
that which is known as the Social Evil. We have already seen
something of the extent to which this terrible scourge has grown,
aaid the alarming manner in which it affects our modern civilisation.

We have already made an attempt at grappling with this evil, having
about thirteen Homes in Great Britain, accommodating 307 > girls
under the charge of 132 Officers, together Vi'ith seventeen Homes
abroad, open for the same purpose. The whole, although a small
affair compared with the vastness of the necessity, nevertheless
constitutes perhaps the largest and most efficient effort of its
character in the world.

It is difficult to estimate the results that have been already
realised. By our vafied operations, apart from these Homes,
probably hundreds, if not thousands, have been delivered frorti lives
of shame and misery. We have no exact return of the numbejr who
have gone through the Homes abroad, but in connection with the
work in this country, about 3,000 have been rescued, and are living
lives of virtue.

This success has not only been gratifying on account' of the
blessing it has brought these young women, the gladness it has
introduced to the homes to which they have been restored, and the
benefit it has bestowed upon Society, but because it has assured us
that much greater results of the same character may be realised by
operations conducted on a larger scale, and under more favourable
circumstances.

With this view we propose to remodel and greatly increase the
number of our Homes both in London and the provinces, estab-
lishing one in every gi'eat centre of this infamous traffic.

To make them very largely Receiving Houses, where the girls
will be initiated into the system of reformation, tested as to the
reality of their desires for deliverance, and started forward on the
highway of truth, virtue, and religion.

GIRLS IN THE FARM COLONY.

189

From these Homes hrgc numbers, as at present, would be
restored to llicir friends and relatives, while some would be detained
in training for domestic service, and others passed on to the Farm
Colony.

On the Farm they would be engaged m vanous occupations. In the
Factory, at Bookbinding and Weaving ; in the Garden and Glass-
houses amongst fruit and flowers ; m the Dairy, making butter ; in
all cases going through a course of House-work which will fit them
for domestic service.

At every stage the same process of mo .1 and religious training,
on which we specially rely, will be carried forward.

There would probably be a considerable amount of inter-marriage
amongst the Colonists, and in this way a number of these girls
would be absorbed into Society.

A large number would be sent abroad as domestic servants. In
Canada, the girls are \iken out of the Rescue Homes as servants,
with no other reference than is gained by a few weeks* residence
there, and are paid as much as £^ a month wages The scarcity ol
domestic servants in the Australian Colonies, Western States of America,
Africa, and elsewhere is well known. And we have no doubt that
on all hands our girls with 12 months' character will be welcomed,
the question of outfit and passage-money being easily arranged for
by the pcrbons requiring their services advancing the amount, with
an understanding that it is to be deducted out of their first earnings.

Then we have the Colony Over-Sea, which will require the service
of a large number. Very few families will go out who will not be
very glad to take a young woniun with them, not as a menial
servant, but as a companion and friend.

By this method we should be able to carry out Rescue work on a
much larger scale At present two difficulties vt.y largely block our
way. One is the costliness of the work. The expense of rescuing
a girl on the present plan cannot be much less than £7 ; that is,
if we include the cost of those with whom we fail, and j)n whom the
money is largely thrown away. Seven pounds is certainly not a
very large sum for the measure of benefit bestowed upon the girl by
bringing her off the streets, and that which is bestowed on Society
by removing her from her evil course. Still, when the work runs
into thousands of individuals, the amount required becomes con-
siderable. On the plan proposed we calculate that from the date of
their reaching the Farm Colony they will earn nearly all that j«}
required for their support.

, •'} ■-;■■?» -Ill

■

ido

THE RESCUE HOMES.

The next difficulty which hinders our expansion in this depart-
ment is the want of suitabfe and permanent situations. Although
we have been marvellously successful so far, having at this hour
probably 1,200 girls in domestic service alone, still the difficulty in this
respect is great. Families are naturally shy at receiving these poor
unfortunates when they can secure the help they need combined with
unblemished character ; and we cannot blame them.

Then, again, it can easily be understood that the monotony of
domestic service in this country is not altogether congenial to the
tastes of many of these girls, who have been accustomed to a life of
excitement and freedom. This can be easily understood. To be
shut up seven days a week with little or no intercourse, either with
friends or with the outside world, beyond that which comes of the
weekly Church service or " night out " with nowhere to go, as many
of them are tied off from the Salvation Army Meetings, becomes
very monotonous, and in hours of depression it is not to be
wondered at if a few break down in their resolutions, and fall back
into their old ways.

On the plan we propose there is something to cheer these girls for-
ward. Life on the farm will be attractive. From there they can go to
a new country and begin the world afresh, with the possibility of being
married and having a little home of their own some day. With su^h
prospects, we think, they will be much more likely to fight their
way through seasons of darkness and temptation than- as at
present.

This plan will also make the task of rescuing the girls much more,
agreeable to the Officers engaged in it. They will have this future
to dwell upon as an encouragement to persevere with the girls, and
will be spared one element at least in the regret they experience,
when a girl falls back into old habits, namely, that she earned the
principal part of the money that has been expended upon her.

That girls can be rescued and blessedly saved even now, despite
all their surroundings, we have many remarkable proofs. Of these
take one or two as examples : —

J. W. was brought by our Officers from a neighbourhood which has, by reason
of the atrocities perpetrated in it, obtained «n unenviable renown, even among
similar districts of equaily bad character.

She was only nineteen. A country girl. She had begun the struggle for
life early as a worker in' a large laundry, and at thirteen years of age was led
away by an inhuman brute. The first, false step taken, her course onjhe

wtmm^^.

f":

A WILD WOMAM.

191

depart-
though
is hour
' in this
se poor
td with

tony of
1 to the
a life of

To be
er with

of the
s many
>ecomes

to be
ill back

iris for-
an go to
of being
ith su^h
;ht their
• as at

ch more,
s future
iris, and
•erience,
ned the
r.

despite
3f these

\>y reason
!n among

uggle for
e was led
e onjhe

downward road was rapid, and growing restless and anxious for more scope
than that afforded in a country town, she came up to London.

For some time she lived the life of extravagance and show, known to tpany of
this class for a short time — having plenty ot money, fine clothes, and luxurious
surroundings — until the terrible disease seized her poor body, and she soon found
herself deserted, homeless and friendless, an outcast of Society.

When we found her she was hard and impenitent, difficult to reach even with
the hand of love ; but love won, and since that time she has been in two or three
si uations, a consistent Soldier of an Amy corps, and a champion IVdr Cry seller.

A TICKET-OF-LEAVE WOMAN.

A. B. was the child of respectable working people— Roman Catholics— out
was early left ou orpiian. zme ie\i m with bad companions, and became ad-
dicted to drink, going from bad to worse until drunkenness, robbery, and harlotry
brought her to the lowest depths. She passed seven years in prison, and after
the last offence was discharged with seven years' police supervision. Failing to
report herself, she was brought before the bench.

The magistrate inquired whether she had ever had a chance in a Home of any
kind. " She is too old, no one will take her," was the reply, but a Detective
present, knowing a little about the Salvation Army, stepped forward and ex-
plained to the magistrate that he did not think the Salvation Army refused
any who applied. She was formally handed over to us in a deplorable condition,
her clothing the scantiest and dirtiest. For over three years she has given
evidence of a genuine reformation, during which time she has industriously earned
her own living.

A WILD WOMAN.

In visiting a slum in a town in the North of England, our Officers entered a
hole, unfit to be called a human habitation — more like the den of sbme wild
animal almost the only furniture of which wa3 a filthy iron bedstead, a wooden
box to serve for table and chair, while an old tin did duty as a dustbin.

The inhabitant of this wretched den was a poor woman, who fled into the
darkest corner of the place as our Officer entered. This poor wretch was the
; victim of a brutal man, who never allowed her to veqture outside the door,
keeping her alive by the scantiest allowance of food. Her only clothing con-
sisted of a sack tied round her body. Her feet were bare, her hair matted and
foul, presenting on the whole such an object as one could scarcely imagine living
in a civilised country. \

She had left a respectable home, forsaken her husb»nd and fam^'y. and sunk
so low that the man who then claimed her boasf^d to the Officer that he had
bettered her condition by taking her off the streets. \

We took the poor^ creature away, washed and clothed her; and, changed vd
heart '^nd life, she is one more added to the number of those who rise uo to
bleu the Salvation Armyjvprk^rs.

7 '

! „i

•m.

j I;

■■^'^.j^-

• I I

Section 6.— A PREVENTIVE HOME FOR UNFALLEN GIRLS WHEN

IN DANGER.

Jliere is a story told likely enough to be true about a young girl
who applied one evening for admission to some home established for
the purpose of rescuing fallen women. The matron naturally
inquired whether she haH forfeited her virtue ; the girl "replied in the
negative. She had been kept from that infamy, but she was poor
and friendless, and wanted somewhere to lay her head until she
could secure work, and obtain a home. The matron must have
pitied her, but she could not heln her as she did not belong to the
class for whose benefit the Institution was intended. The girl
pleaded, but the matron could no- alter the rule, and dare not break it,
they were so pressed to find room for their own poor unfortunates,
and she could not receive her. The poor girl left the door reluctantly
but returned in a very short time, and said, " I am fallen now, will
you take me in ? "

I am somewhat slow to credit this incident ; anyway it is true in
spirit, and illustrates the fact that while there are homes to which
any poor, ruined, degraded harlot can run for shelter, there is only
here and there a corner to which a poor friendless, moneyless, home-
less, but unfallen girl can fly for shelter from the storm which bids
fair to sweep her away whether she will or no into the deadly vortex
of ruin which gapes beneath her.

In London and all our large towns tnere must be a considerable
number of poor girls who from various causes are suddenly plunged
into this forlorn condition ; a quarrel with the mistress and sudden
discharge, a long bout of disease and dismissal penniless from the
hospital, a robbery of a purse, having to wait for a situation until
the last penny is spent, and many other causes will leave a girl an
almost h' ocless prey to the linx-eyed villains who are ever watching
to take advantage of innocence wlien in danger. Then, again, what
a number there must be in a great city like London who are ever
faced with the alternative of being turned out of doors if thev refuse

to subn
them. V

prosecui
with th<
were thi
We hai
terrible,
employe
tunately

Now,
can Hy
shielded

The I
as the
accept a
visible i
conform
provided
Every I
to bear <
efforts V,
tion of
provide
a way
institutic
be neces

HOMES'^TOTFLr'TOT

^T93

to submit themselves to the infamous overtures of those around
them. ^ I understand that the Society for the Protection of Childrci»
prosecuted last year a fabulous number of fathers for unnatural sins
with their children.- If so many were brought to justice, how many
were there of whom the world never heard in any shape or form?
We have only to imagine how many a. poor girl is faced with the
terrible* alternative of being driven literally into the streets by
employers or relatives • or others in ;, whose power she is unfor-
tunately placed.

Now, we want a real home for such— sl< house to which any girl
can lly at any hour of the day or night, and be taken in, cared for,'
shielded from the enemy, and helped into circumstances of safety.

The Refuge we propose will be very much on the same principle
as the Homes for the Destitute already described. We should
accept any girls, say from fourteen years of age, who were without
visible means of support, but who were willing to work, and to
conform to discipline. There would be various forms of labour
provided, such as lau-ndry work; sewing, knitting by machines, &c.'
Every beneficial influence within our power would be brought
to bear on the rectification and formation of character. .'Continued
efforts woul-'. be made to secure situations according to the adapta-
tion of the girls, to restore wanderers to their homes, and otherwise
provide for all. From this, as with the other Homes, there will be
a way made to the Farm and to the Colony over the sea. KThe
institutions would be multiplied as we had means and found thcni' to
be necessary, and made self-supporting as far as possible.'

■I, !'

■m

Section 7.— ENQUIRY OFFICE FOR LOST PEOPLE

Perhaps notning more vividly suggests the varied forms of broken-
hearted misery in the great City than the statement that l8,cxx)
people are lost in it every year, of whom 9,000 are never heard of
any more, anyway in this world. What is true about London is,
we suppose, true in about the same proportion of the rest of the
country. Husbands, sons, daughters, and mothers are continually
disappearing, and leaving no trace behind.

In such cases, where the relations are of some importance in the
world, they may interest the police authorities sufficiently to make
some enquiries in this country, which, however, are not often suc-
cessful ; or where they can afford to spend large sums of money,
they can fall' back upon the private detective, who will continue
these enquiries, no: - at home but abroad.

But where the re.. s of the missing individual are in humble
circumstances, they are absolutely powerless, in nine cases out of
ten, to effectually prosecute any search at all that is likely to be
successful.

Take, for instance, a cottager in a village, whose daughter leaves
for service in a big town or city. Shortly afterwards a letter
arrives informing her parents of the satisfactory character of her
place. 7 The mistress is kind, the work easy, and she likes her
fellow servants. She is going to chapel or church, and the family
are pleased. Letters continue to arrive of the same purport, but,
at length, they suddenly cease. Full of concern, the mother writes to
know the reason, but no answer comes back, and after a time the
letters are returned with "gone, no address," written on the
envelope. The mother writes to the mistress, or the father journeys
to- the city, but no further information can be obtained beyond the
fact that " the girl has conducted herself somewhat mysteriously of
late ; had ceased* to be as careful at her work ; had been noticed to
be keeping company with some young man ; had given notice and
disappeared altogether."

«■■

FINDING THE LOST.'

196

Now, what can these poor people do ? They apply to the police,
but they can do nothing. Perhaps they ask the clergyman of the
parish, who is equally helpless, and there is nothing for them buti
for the father to hang his head and the mother to cry herself to'
sleep — to long, and wait, and pray for information that perhaps never,
comes, and to fear the worst.

Now, our Enquiry Department supplies a remedy for this state ofj
things. In such a case application would simply have to be made to
the nearest Salvation Army Officer — probably in her own village, any;
way, in the nearest town — who would instruct the parents to write
to the Chief Office in London, sending portraits and all particulars.!
Enquiries would at once be set on foot, which would very possiblyi
end in the restoration of the girl.

The achievements of this Department, which has only been in]
operation for a short time, and that on a limited scale, as a branch ofj
Rescue Work, have been marvellous. No more romantic stories can]
be found in the pages of our most imaginative writers than those it]
records. We give three or four illustrative cases of recent date.

ENQUIRY.

A LOST

Mrs. S., of New Town, Leeds, wrote
to say that Robert R. left England in
July 1889, for Canada to improve his
position. He left a wife and four little
children behind, and on leaving said
that if he were successful out there he
should send for them, but if not he
should return.

As he was unsuccessful, he left
Montreal in the Dommion Liner
" Oregon," on October 30th, but except
receiving a card from him ere he
started, the wife and friends had heard
no more of him from that day till the
date they wrote tis.

They had written to the "Dominion"
Company, who replied that " he landed
at Liverpool all right," so, thinking he
had disappeared upon his arrival, they
put the matter in the hands of the
Liverpool Police, who, alter having the
case in hand fur several weeks mado
the usual report — " Cannot be traced."

RESULT.
HUSBANP.

We at once commenced looking for
some passenger who had come over
by the same steamer, and after the
lapse of a little time we succeeded in j
getting hold of one.

In our first interview with him we'
learned that Robert R did not land at!
Liverpool, but when suffering from de-l
pression threw himself overboard three
days after leaving America, and was
drovvned. We further elicited that
upon his death the sailors rifled his
clothes and boxes, and partitioned them.

We wrote the Company reporting
this, and they promised to make en-^
quiries and amends, but as too often
happens, upon making report of the
same to the family they took the
matter into their own hands, dealt'
with the Company direct, and in all pro-
bability thereby lost a good sum in
compensation which we should pro-
bably have obtaiacd for them.

I 'I
! i

196

ENQUIRY OFFICE FOR LOST PEOPLE.'

A LOST WIFE.

F. J. L. asked us to seek for his wife,
who left him on November 4th, 1888.
He feared she had gone to live an im-
moral life ; gave us two addresses at
which she might possibly be heard of,
and a description. They had three
children.

Enquiries at the addresses given
elicited no information, but from ob-
servation in the neighbourhood the
woman's whereabouts was discovered.

After some difficulty our Officer ob-
tained an interview with the woman,
who was greatly astonished at our
having discovered her. She was dealt
with faithfully and firmly: the plain
truth of God set before her, ^nd was
covered with shame and remorse, and
promised to return.

We communicated with Mr. L. A
few days after he wrote tbat he had
been telegraphed for, had forgiven his
wife, and that they were re-united.

Soon afterwords she wrote expres-
sing her deep gratitude to Mrs. Bram-
well Booth for the trouble taken in her
case.

A LOS'' CHILD.

Alice P. was stolen away from home
by Gypsies ten years ago, and now
longs to find her parents to be restored
to them. She believes her home to be
in Yorkshire.

The Police had this case in hand for
lome time, but failed entirely.

With these particulars we advertised
in the "War Cry." Captain Green,
seeing the advertisement, wrote, April
3rd, from 3, C. S., M. H., that her
Lieutenant knew a family of the name
advertised for, living at Gomersal,
Leeds.

We, on the 4th, wrote to this ad-
dress for confirmation.

April 6th, we heard from Mr. P ,

that this lass is his child, and he writes
full of gratitude and joy, saying he
will send money for her to go home.
We, meanwhile, get from the Police,
who had long sought this girl, a full
description and photo, which we
sent to Captain Cutmore; and on
April 9th, she wrote us to the effect
that the girl exactly answered tlic
description. We got from the parent >-
15/- for the fare, and Alice was onc(
morp restored to her parents.

Praise God.

FOUND IN CANADA.

197

A LOST DAUGHTER.

E. W. Age 17. Application fum this
girl's mother and brother, who had lost
Jill trarc of her since July, 1885, when
sli-; left for Canada. Letters had been
once or twice received, dated from
Montreal, but they stopped.

A photo., full description, and
handwriting were supplied.

Mrs. M., Clevedon, one of Harriett P.'s
old mistresses, wrote us, in deep con-
cern, about this girl. She said she was a
good servant, but was ruined by the
young man who courted her, and had
since had three children. Occasionally,
she would have a few bright and
happy weeks, but would again lapse
into the *' vile path."

Mrs. M. tells us that Harriett had
good parents, who arc dead, but she
still has a respectable brother in Hamp-
shire. The last she heard of her was
thai some weeks ago she was staying
at a Girl's Shelter at Bristol, but had
since left, and nothing more had been
heard of her.

The enquirer requested us to find
her, and in much faith added, " I believe
you are the only people who, if success-
ful in tracing her, can rescue and do
1 ;;• a permanent good."

We discovered that some kind
Church people here had helped E. W.
to emigrate, but they had no informa*
tion as to her movements af^cr lanUinf!.

Full particulars, with photo., \\'«Tf
sent to our Officers in Canada. The girl
was not found in Montreal. Thcmfor-
mation was then sent to Ofticcrs in other
towns in that part of the Colony.

The enquiry was continued liirouf 1»
spmc months ; and, finally, throuj{h
• our Major of Division, the girl was
reported tousashaving been recognisc<l
in one of oiir Barracks and idcntiticd.
When sudden ly called by //tfrozfwwawr,
she nearly faintod with .imitation.

She was in a condition of terrible
poverty and shame, but at once con-
sented, on hearing of her mother's en-
quiries, to go into one of our Canadian
Rescue Homes. She is now doing well.

Her mother's joy may be imagine' •

A LOST SERVANT.

Wc at once set enquiries on foot,
and in the spare of a few days f«>unu
that she had started from Bristol on
the road for Bath. Following her up
we found that at a little place called
Bridlington, on the way to Bath, she
had met a man, of whom she enquired
her way. He hearing a bit of her
story, after taking her to a public-
house, prcvailedupon Iicr togohomeand
live with him, as he had lost his wife.

It was at this stage that wc camo
upon the scene, and having dealt with
them both upon the matter, got her to
consent to come away if the man
would not marry her, giving him two
days to make up his mind.

The two days* respite havmg expired
and, he being unwilling to undertake
matrimony, we brought her away, and
sent her to one of our Homes, where
she is enjoying peace and penitence.

When we informed the mistress and
brother of the success, they were greatly
rejoiced and ' overwhelmed j, us ^witb
thanks. -^^'

't .

'ih;^

l^U,tiL..

"l^-VJ!

rT^ssasBS

198

ENQUIRY OFFICE FOR LOST PEOPLF.

; I

I r

I I

1 !■

A LOST HUSBAND.

In a seaside home last Chfstmas there v/as a sorrowing wife, v";ho mourn;:.!
over the basest desertion of her husband. Wandering from place to placet
drinking, he had left her to struggle alone with four little ones dependent
upon her exertions.

Knowing her distress, the captain of the corps wrote begging us to advertise
for the man in the Cry. We did this, but for some time heard nothing of the
result.

Several weeks later a Salvationist entered a beer-house, where a group of
men were drinking, and began to distribute IVar Crys amongst them, speaking
here and there upon the eternity which faced everyone.

At the counter stood a man with a pint pot in hand, who took one of the
papers passed to him, and glancing carelessly down its columns caught sight of
his own name, and was so startled that the pot fell from his grasp to the Hoor.
" Come home," the paragraph ran, " and all will be forgiven."

His sin faced him ; the thought of a broken-hearted wife and starving
children conquered him completely, and there and then he left the public-
house, and started to walk home — a distance of many miles — arriving there
about midnight the same night, after an absence of eleven months.

The letter from his wife telling the good news of his return, spoke also of
his determination by God's help to be a dififerent man, and they are both
attendants at the Salvation Army barracks.

A SEDUCER COMPELLED TO PAY.

Amongst the letters that came to the Inquiry Office one morning was one
from a girl who asked us to help her to trace the father of her child who had for
some time ceased to pay anything towards its support. The case had been
brought into the Police Court, and judgment given in her favour, but the guilty
one had hidden, and his father refused to reveal his whereabouts.

We called upon the elder man and laid the matter before him, but failed to
prevail upon him either to pay his son's liabilities or to put us into communica-
tion with him. The answers lo an advertisement in the War Cry, however, had
brought the required information as to his son's whereabouts, and the same
morning that our Inquiry Officer communicated with the police, and served a
summons for the overdue money, the youi'g man had also received a letter
from his father advising him to leave the country at once. He had given
notice to his employers ; and the £\(i salary he received, with some help his
father had sent him towards the journey, he was compelled to hand over to the
mother of his child.

TRACED AMONG THE KAFFIRS.'

199

ti.

FOUND IN THE BUSH.
A year or two ago a respect&ble-looking Dutch girl might have been seen
making her way quickly and stealthily across a stretch of long rank grass towards
the shelter of some woods on the banks of a distant river. :^ Behind her lay the
South African town from which she had come, betrayed, disgraced, ejected from
her home with words of bitter scorn, having no longer a friend in the wide world
who would hold out to her a hand of help. What could there be better for her
than to plunge into that river yonder, and end this life — no matter what should
come after the plunge ? But Greetah feared the " future," and turned aside to

spend the night in darkness, wretched and alone.

• • • • •

Seven years had passed. An English traveller making his way through
Southern Africa lialted for the Sabbath at o little village on his route. A ramble
through the woods brought him unexpectedly in front of a kraal, at the door ot
which squatted an old Hottentot, with a fair white-faced child playing on the
ground near by. Glad to accept the prcfTered shelter of the hut from the burning
sim, the traveller entered, and was greatly astonished to find within a young
White girl, evidently the mother of the frolicsome child. Full of pity for the
strange pair, and especially for the girl, who wore an air of reBr.ement little to be
expected in this out-of-the-world spot, he sat down on the earthen floor, and
told them of the wonderful Salvation of God. This was Greetah, and the
Englishman would have given a great deal if he could have rescued her from
this miserable lot. But this was impossible, and with reluctance he bid ker
farewell

It was an English home. By a glowing fire one night a man sat alone, and
in his imaginings there came up the vision of the girl he had met in the Hottentot's
Kraal, and wondering whether any way of rescue was possible. Then he
remembered reading, since his return, the following paragraph in the IVar Cry : —

"TO THE DISTRESSED.

" The Salvation Army invite parents, relatio'ns, and friends in any part of the
world interested in any woman or girl who is known, or feared to be, living in
immorality, or is in danger of coming under the control of immoral persons, to
write, stating full particulars, with names, dates, and address of-aIl,concerned|
and, if possible, a photograph of the person in whom the interest is taken.

" All letters, whether from these persons or from such women ^orlgiris tkem^
selves, will be regarded as strictly confidential. They may be written'ih^any
language, and should be addressed to Mrs. Bramwell Booth, loi,' Queen Victoria!
Street, London, E.C."

" It will do no harm to try,''anyhow,'Vexclaiihed'he7" tlielthinj^^tuuntsj me aa
itii»''4uuLwithout further delay^lie pt^nnedAiLACCfiuat otJtia AlncanidventureJ

-/■

SS^S!SS^?rjKlS*^ES

■Bl

200

ENQUIRY OFFICE FOR LOST PEOPLE.

as full as possible. The next African mail carried instructieas to the Officer in
Command of our South African work.

» " • # ' » #

Shortly after, one of our Salvation Riders was exploring the bush, and after
some difficulty the kraal was discovered — the girl was rescued and saved. The
Hottentot was conveited afterwards, and both arc now Salvation Soldiers.

Apart from the independent agencies employed to prosecute this
class of enquiries, which it is proposed to very largely increase, the
Army possesses in itself peculiar advantages for this kind of
investigation. The mode of operation is as follov/s : —

There is a Head Centre under the direction of a capable Officer
and assistants, to which particulars of lost husbands, sons, daughter-.,
and wives, as the case may be, are forwarded. These are advertised,
except when deemed inadvisable, in the English " War Cry," with
its 3(X),ooo circulation, and from it copied into the twenty-three other
" War Crys " published in different parts of the world. Specially
prepared information in each case is sent to the local Officers of the
Army when that is thought wise, or Special Enquiry Officers trained
to their work are immediately set to work to follow up any clue which
has been given by enquiring relations or friends.

Every one of its 10,000 Officers, nay, almost every soldier in its
ranks, scattered, as they are, through every quarter of the globe,
maj» be regarded as an Agent.

A small charge for enquiries is made, and, where persons are able,
all th&.costs of the investigation will be defrayed by them. .

5 Officer in

and after
ivcd. The
iers.

cute this
"ease, the
kind of

Officer
aughtern,
Iverflsed,
ry," with
irce other
Specially
:rs of the
's trained
lue which

ier in its
he globe,

are able,

Bection 8.— refuges FOR THE CHILDREN OF THE STREETS.

For the waifs and .strays of the streets of Lonaon much com-
iJi.aeration is expressed, and far more pity is deserved than is
bestowed. We have no direct purpose of entering on a crusade on
their behalf, apart from our attempt at changing the hearts and lives
and improving the circumstances of their parents.

Our main hope for these wild, youthful, outcasts lies in this
direction. If we can reach and benefit their guardians, morally and
materially, we shall take the most effectual road to benefit the
children themselves. *

Still, a- number of them will unavoidably be forced upon us ; and
we shall be quite prepared to accept the responsibility of dealing
with them, calculating that our organisation will enable us to do so,
not only with facility and efficiencv, but with trifling cost to the
public.

To begin with, Children's Cr&ches or Children's Day Homes wouio
be established in the centres of every poor populstion, where for a
small charge babies and young children Can be taken care of in the
day while the mothers are at work, instead of being left to the
dangers of the thoroughfares or the almost greater peril of being
burnt to death in their own miserable homes.

By this plan we shall not only be able to benefit the poor children,
if in no other direction than that of soap and water and a little whole-
some food, but exercise some humanising influence upon the mothers
themselves.

On the Farm Colony, we should be able to deal with the infants
from the Unions and other quarters. Our Cottage mothers, with
two or three children of their own, would readily take in an
extra one on the usual terms of boarding out children, and nothing
would be more simple or easy for us than to set apart some trust-
worthy experienced dame to make a constant inspection as to
whether the children placed out were enjoying the necessary conditions
of health and general well-being. Here would be a Baby Farm
carried on with the most favourable surroundings.

'ii

':!

■*l;.
■ ■ ■\ '}

■ /;;:■

■ ;■;

] ;.!

■ I

I I

Section 91— INDUSTRIAL SCHOOLS.

1 also propose, at the earliest opportunity, to give the
^iibject of the industrial training of, boys a fair trial; and.
if successful, follow it on with a similar one for girls. - i
am nearly satisfied in my own mind that the children of the
streets taken, say at eight years of age, and kept till, say
twenty-one, would, by judicious management and the utilisation of
their strength and capacity, amply supply all their own wants, and
would, I think, be likely to turn out thoroughly good and capable
members of the community.

\part from the mere benevolent aspect of the question, the
present system of teaching is, to my mind, unnatural, and shame-
fully wasteful of the energies of the children. Fully one-half the
time that boys and girls are compelled to sit in school is spent to
little or no purpose — nay, it is worse than wasted. The minds of the
children are only capable of useful application for so many con-
secutive minutes, and hence the rational method must be to apportion
the time of the children ; say, half tHe morning's work to be gfiven to
their books, and the other half to some industrial employment ; the
garden would be most natural and healthy in fair weather, while the
gvorkshop should be fallen back upon when unfavourable.

By this method health would be promoted, school would be loved,

(the cost of education would be cheapened, and the natural bent of

the child's capacities would be discovered and could be cultivated.

Instead of coming out of school, or going away from apprenticeship,

with^the most precious part of life for ever gone so far as learning

is, concerned, chained to some pursuit for which there is no predilec-

;^bn^and: which promises nothing higher than mediocrity if not

failure— -the work for which the mind - was peculiarly adapted

and, for ^ which, therefore, it would have a natural capacity,

^ould not only have been discovered, but the bent of^the inclination

|jltivat^;4^ilU^be^U(e's..work chosen accord ingljr^

give the

ial ; and

girls. • I

n of the

till, say

lisation of

vants, and

nd capable

stion, the
id shame-
le-half the
is spent to
inds of the
nany con-
apportion
)e given to
ment ; the
while the

INDUSTRIAL* SCHOOLS.

'203

■X^.y.;,

Ills not for me'to'attempt.ianx reform ,fof^'ourJi School system.sbri
this model. ^ But I do think that I may be allowed to 'test the theory
by; its practical working in an Industrial School in connection with
theTarm Colony. # I should begin probably with children selected
for their goodness and capacity, with a view to imparting a superior
education, thus fitting them for the position of Officers in all parts of
the t world, with the special object of raising up a body of men
thoroughly trained and educated, among other things, to carry out
all the branches of the Social work that are set forth in this book,
and it may be to instruct other nations in the same.

•M

'*4i

ri >'l

'U '*!]'

'X:}

■;-;■<

'V-. Ill

I be loved,
al bent of
cultivated.
;nticeship,
s learning
5 predilec-
ity if not
f adapted
capacity,
inclination

Jllc

'm(
be
efl
he

Section la— ASYLUMS FOR MORAL^ LUNATICS.^

There will remain, after all has been said and done, one problem
that has yet to be faced. You may minimise the difficulty every way,
and it is your duty to do so, but no amount of hopefulness can make
us blink the fact that when all has been done and every chance
has been offered, when you have forgiven your brother not only
seven times but seventy times seven, when you have fished him
up from the mire and put him on firm ground only to see
him relapse and again relapse until you have no strength left to
pull him out once more, there will still remain a residuum of
men and women who have, whether from heredity or custom, or
hopeless demoralisation, become reprobates. After a certain time,
some men of science hold that persistence in habits tends to convert
a man from a being with freedom of action and will into a mere
automaton.';v' There are some cases within our knowledge which
seem to confirm the somewhat dreadful verdict by which a man
appears to be a lost soul on this side of the grave. '

There are men so incorrigibly lazy that no , inducement that
you. can . offer will tempt them to ^work ; so eaten up )y vice
tiiat virtue is V abhorrent ; to -them, and •■ so . inveterately dishonest
that theft is to them a master passion, i,' When a human being has
reached that stage, there is only •• one course that can be rationally
pursued. • Sorrowfully, but remorselessly, it;: must be recognised
that he -has»j become lunatic,^morally demented, incapable of self-
government,, and^that•.,uponv him," therefore, T must be passed r. the
sjntence of permanent seclusion from. a world in which he is not fit
to be at large.5;Tlie ultimate destiny of these poor wretches; should
be a penal settlement, where: they could be7Confined|du.ririg;jHer
Majes^y's^ivpleasure'; as ijare: the criminal^ lunaticsj^
It j^ acrimc against the^race to allow those who-iire so iriveteratelyi
dsjpraYcdUtliBiiifccftdfim- toijwander. abroad,:infect itheirlfclloy '^-

^TICSL^

'e, one problem
:ulty every way,
ilness can make
d every chance
rother not only
lave fished him
d only to see
strength left to
a residuum of
or custom, or
a certain time,
ends to convert
n into a mere
owledge which
which a man

ducement that
n up iy vice
tely dishonest
man being has
1 be rationally
be recognised
ipable of self-
e passed r;the
:h he is not .fit
etches; should
||during5-Her
'^^Broadmoor.
inveterateJy,

jdl*JECTS^OFJ&1N FINJTE-LiCO M RASSION J

e05f

QpofJ^ocietyivaiiS. to ■mfiltiplyr^lTeiF:-Tnin3l WHfatever, felge^SociSlyi
Jiiay do, and suffer.' to be done, this thing it ought not^b^lalldv/^'SEmyi
'more than it should allow the free perambulation of a. mad dog; But
before we come to this I would have every possible means tried to
effect their reclamation. Let Justice punish them, and Mercy,rput
her arms around them ; let them be appealed to by penalty arid by
reason, and by every influence, human and Divine, that can possibly
be brought to bear upon them. - Then, if all alike failed, their ability
to further curse their fellows and themselves should be stayed/

They will still remain objects worthy of infinite compassion. -They
should lead as human a life as is possible to those who have fallen
under so terrible a judgment. They should have their own little cottages
in their own little gardens, under the blue sky, and, if possible, amid the
green fields. I would deny them none of the advantages, moral, mental,
and religious which might minister to their diseased minds, and tend to
restore them to a better state. Not until the breath leaves their
bodies should we cease to labour and wrestle for their . salvation
But when they have reached a certain point access to their fellow
men should be forbidden. . Between them and the wide world there
should be reared an impassable barrier, which once passed should be
recrossed no more for ever. Such a course must be v/iser than allow-
ing them to go in and out among their fellows, canying with them
the contagion of moral leprosy, and multiplying a progeny doomed
before its birth to inherit the vices and diseased cravings of their
unhappy parents.
To these proposals three leading objections will probably be raised,
I. It may be said that to shut out men and women from

that liberty which is their universal birthright would be

cruel.
To this it might be sufficient to reply, that this is already done ;
twenty years' immurement is a very common sentence passed upon
wrong-doers, and in some cases the law u,je3 as far as to inflict
penal servitude for life. But we say further that it would be far
more merciful treatment than th?.f which is dealt out to them at
present, and it would be far more likely to secure a pleasant existence.
Knowing their fate they would soon become resigned to it. Habits
of industry, sobriety, and kindness with them would create a restful-
ness of spirit which goes far on in the direction of happiness, and if
religion nxre added it would make that happiness complete.
There might be set continually before them a large measure of free-,

I:,:

'■kw

.:' V

i 'r,

■ r!:J

i I' ','1

'I m

mm^

206^

ASYLUMS FOR MORAL LUNATICS.

idom and more frequent intercourse with the world in the shape of
correspondence, f newspapers, and even occasional interv'ews with
relatives, as rewards for well-doing, 'f And in sickness and old age
their latter days might be closed in comfort. In fact, so far as' this
class of people were concerned, we can see that they vA>uld be far
better circumstanced for happiness in this life and in the life to
come than in their present liberty — if a life spent alternatively
in drunkenness, debauchery, and crime, on the one hand, or the
prison on the other, can be called liberty.

2. It may be said that the carrying out of such a sug-

! gestipn would be too expensive.
To this we reply that it would have to be very costly to exceed
the expense in which all such characters invblve the nation under
the present regulations of vice and crime. But there is no need for
any great expense, seeing that after the first outlay the inmates of
such an institution, if it were fixed upon the land, would readily
earn all that would be required for their support.

3. But it may be said that this is impossible.

It would certainly be impossible other than as a State regulation.
But it Would surely be a very simple matter to < ••act a law which
should decree that after an individual had sufferev a certain number
of convictions for crime, drunkenness, or vagrancy, he should forfeit
his freedom to roam abroad and curse his fellows. When I in-
clude vagrancy in this list, I do it on the supposition that the oppor-
tunity and ability for work are present. Otherwise it seems to me
most heartless to punish a hungry man wiio begs for food because
he can in no other way obtain it. ' But with the opportunity and
ability* for work I would count the solicitation of charity a crime, and
punish it as such. Anyway, if a man would not work of his own
free will I would compel him.

I''

the shape of
terv'ews with

and old age
so far as! this
wbuld be far
n the life to

alternatively
hand, or the

such a

sug-

itly to exceed

nation under

no need for

inmates of

/ould readily

e regulation.

law which
tain number
lould forfeit
Vhen I in-

the oppor-
eems to me
od because
tunity and
crime, and
)f his own

CHAPTER VI.

ASSISTANCE IN GENERAL.

There are many who are not lost, who need help. A little assis-
tance 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 constitute 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, constitute 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.

i H\

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Section i.-lMPROVED LODGINGS.

The necessity for a superior class 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 v/ho 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 liis luck.
They have been a good thing for us ; in fact, had it not been for
them, we would still have been v/ithout a friend, sleeping on the
Embankment, getting our living dishonestly, or not getting a living
at .ill. 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, bult 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 batck again to where we were before."
^•v But ^this,- although natural, is not desirable ; for, if the ^process
went on, in course of time the whole of the Shelter Dep6ts would be
taken up by persons who had risen above thc.class for. whom they.

THE POOR MAN'S METROPOLE.

209

were originally destined. 1 propose, therefore, to draft those who get
on, but wish to continue in connection with the Army, into a superiQi?
lodging-house, .a sort of

POOR man's METROPOLE,

managed on tne same principles, but with better accommodation
in 'every way, which, I anticipate, would be self-supporting from
the first. In these homes there would be separate dormitories,
good sitting-rotPiS, cooking conveniences, baths, a hall for meetings,
and many othei 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 conse-
quences of getting hold of these men very soon makes itself felt. Your
ragged, hungry, destitute 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 soo»i 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 couples
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 vhl be described in the
chapter relating to Suburban Cottages. TVie Model-lodging House
fot' Married People is, however, one of those things that must be
provided as an adjunct of the Food and Shelter Depots.

'■'M

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Section j— MODEL SUBURBAN VILLAGES.

As I have repeatedly stated already, but will state once more,
for it is important enough to bear endless repetition, one of the
first steps which must inevitably be taken in the reformation of this
class, 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 institution of any first, second, or third-class
lodging-houses as affording anything but palliatives of the existing
distress. To substitute 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 hoarding-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 Dep6ts, 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 lire compelled
to spend their days, as a solution of the question. The over-
crowding 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^oLIndustrial Settlements or. Suburban Villages, lying out in

WORKMEN'S COTTAGESA

ifiwi

ic ''country,^!; within va'^rcasonnble'dfsta'ncerof; all ^buirfgrcat'^^^
lomposed of cottages of suitable size and construction, and with !all
jeedful comfort and accommodation for the families of working-men,;
le,. rent; of which, together with the "railway fare,;' and other,
jconomic conveniences, should be within the reach of /a. family^ of
loderate income. '

This proposal lies slightly apart from the scope of v this book,
Otherwise I should be disposed to elaborate the project at greater
:ngth. I may say, however, that what I here propose has been^
larefully thought out, and is of a perfectly practical character. .In
Ihe planning of it I have received some valuable assistance from a
friend who has had considerable experience in the building trade,
Ind he stakes his professional reputation on its feasibility. The
[ollowing, however, may be taken as a rough outline :— -I

The Village should not be more than twelve miles 'from • town ;
^hould 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
[hat the company would, for their own . interests, immediately
;rect one.

The Cottages should be built of the best material and workman-
ship. This would be effected most satisfactorily by securing a
contract for the labour only, the projectors of the Scheme purchasing
khe materials and supplying them direct from the manufacturers to
the builders. The cottages would consist of three or four rooms,
fith a scullery, and out-building in the garden, 'f. The cottages
should be built in terraces, each having .- a good " garden
ittached.

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
jEstate, and, if possible, tlvi landowner from whom the land is
lobtained 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
linconvenience and suffering they have inflicted on the poor, and in
jtheir own interests, might be induced to make the fc^wing
■advantageous arrangements: —

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212

f^ODELT SUBURBAN ; VILLAGES.

(1) Th^'cenyisyance of each member actually living in the villa(
to .aiid<i-f^m|i:^ndon:at the rate of ('sixpence per'week^^lEach paj
should -have oh :lt' the portrait of< the owner,. and be fastened to sor
article 'of^^theSidress, ■• nnd be available^bnly^by Workmen's^Traiil
runningiearly^and late and during certain'hours'of-theday, wh6n4]j
trains are^'almost empty.

(2) The conveyance of goods and parcels should be at half tlj
ordinary rates.

It is reasonable to suppose that large landowners would glad]
give one hundred acres of land in view of the immensely advance
values of the surrounding property which would immediately follo\^
seeing that the erection of one thousand or two thousand cottagj
would constitute the nucleus of a much larger Settlement.

Lastly, the rent of a four-roomed cottage must not exceed 3!
per week. Add to this the sixpenny ticket to and from Londof
and you have 3s. 6d., and if the company should insist on is.,
will make 4s., for which there would be all the advantages of
comfortable cottage — of which it would be possible for the tenant
become the owner — a good garden, pleasant surroundings, and oth^
influences promotive of the health and happiness of the family,
is hardly necessary to remark that in connection with this Villa^
there will be perfect freedom of opinion on all matters. A glance
the ordinary homes of the poor people of this great City will at onij
assure us that such a village would be a veritable Paradise to ther
and that were four, five, or six settlements provided at once the
would not contain a tithe of the people who would. throng to occuf
them.

1: '

d be at half d

•■';]

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

I If the Jove of money is the root of all evil, the want of money is
|e cause of an immensity of evil and trouble. The moment you
jgin practically to alleviate the miseries of the people, you discover
jat the eternal want of pence is one of their greatest difficulties. In

most sanguine moments I have never dream.ed of smoothing this
[fficulty out of the lot of man, but it is surely no unattainable ideal

establish a Poor Man's Bank, which will extend to the lower
tddle class and the working population the advantages of the credit
jstem, v/hich is the very foundation of our boasted commerce,
lit might be better that there should be no such thing as credit,
lat no one shjuid lend money, and that everyone should be com-
piled to rely solely upon whatever ready money he may possess
)m day to day. But if so, lei us apply the principle all round ; do
)t let us ^lory in our world-wide commerce and boast ourselves in
ir riches, obtained, in so many cases, by the ignoring of this prin-
Iple. If it is right for a great merchant to have dealings with his
nker, if it is indispensable for the due carrying on of the business
the rich men that they should have at their elbow a credit system
[hich will from time to time accommodate them . with needful
Ivance's; and. enable them to stand up against the pressure of
idden: demands, "'hich otherwise would wreek.^ them, then' surely
le case' is still stronger for providing a similar resource for the
laller "men, the weaker men. ■; At present Society is organised far
)o much "on the principle |Of giving to. him who hath so that he
[nil have more abundantly, and taking away from him who hath

even that which he hath.i

If we are to really benefit the poor, we can only do so by practical

feasures. We have merely to look round and see the kind of

livantages which wealthy men fnd indispensable for the due

[r.nagcment of tht-ir business, r.iid ..::i; ouiicivcs whether 'poor men

'ii

1214'

THE. POOR MAN'S BANK;

! I

cannot be supplied with the same opportunities. . The^reason why!

they are not is obvious. To. supply the needs of the rich is a meand

of iinaking 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 f 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 mass of our fellow country-
men, on sound business principles with the advantages of the credit
system, which is found to work so beneficially for tho " 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
pawnbroker 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 institution 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, withc':t in any
way pledging myself to add this branch of activity to the already
gigantic rar^e of V)perations foreshadowed in this book — Would it not
be possible for some philanthropists with capital to establish on
cloarJy defined principles a Poor Man's Bank for the making of small
loans on •good, security, or making advances to those who are in
dangerof 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 dis-
posed possessor of wealth to give the price of a racehorse,.or of ^n

'-Al

le^eason why
ich is a means
the poor will
profit that the

banking and
the '^ American
modern I times,
It will not men
explore the

highest peak,
>er cent. I do
• Man's Bank
might be made
imunity would

his business
ve his answer,
1 taking some
:llow country-
s of the credit
1 " well-to-do "

htened to take
hands of the
lo cruelly prey
>f land banks,
ien one of the
nd elsewhere.
2, before long,

i^ithc*:t in any
o the already
-Would it not

establish on
aking of small
; who are in
re— in fact, for

"big man"?
evolently dis-
rse,,or of ^n,

PERSONAL SECURITY;

215

old master," to form the nucleus of the necessary capital, I will c r-
ainly experiment in this direction. '

I can anticipate the sneer of the cynic v/ho scoffs at what he calls
ny glorified pawnshop. I am indifiercnt to his sneers. A Mont de
ietd — the very name (Mount of Piety) shows that the Poor Man's
5ank is regarded as anything but an objectionable institution across
le Channel — might be an excellent institution in England. Owing,
owever, to the vested interests of the existing traders it might be
inpossible for the State to establish it, excepting at a ruinous
xpense. There would be no difficulty, however, of instituting a
private Mont de Pidte, which would confer an incalculable boon upon
)e struggling poor.

Further, 1 am by no means indisposed to recognise the necessity of
caling with this subject in connection with the Labour Bureau,
)rovided that one clearly recognised principle can be acted upon.
That principle is that a man shall be free to bind himself as security
or the repayment of a loan, that is to pledge himself to work for his
ations until such time as he has repaid capital " and interest.
(\n illustration 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
destitution. He has by degrees pawned one article after another
to keep body and soul together, until v.t last he has been
compelled to pawn his tools. We register him, and an employer
omes 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 continu'es on our hands.
Obviously it is most desirable in the interest of the community
that the man should get his tools out of pawn ; 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 circumstances, 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
inake over his actual rations and Shelter money should belong to his
creditor . Of course such an arrangement might be varied indefinitely

■ ^,!l'

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% .

(.1 "

K ,.

"I'!
J:;'

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il i

i !

ei6

THE POOR MAN'S BANK.

by private agreement ; the repayment of instalments could be spread
over 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 maiiy years in a
situation and has a large family, which he has brought up respectabl}'
and educated. He has every prospect of retiring in a few yean
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 docs
not know where to turn in his emergency. If he cannot 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 aA advance of all he needed from his
banker. Why should he not be able to pledge his salary, or
portion of it, , to an Institution which would enable him to pay off
his debt, on terms that, while sufficiently remunerative to the
bank, would not unduly embarrass 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 th
advantage which their position gives them to extort every penny he
has. A great black book written witWin 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, an* probably "^ always will; but what we can do
is to circumscribe 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 cf
desperate need, so as to prevent their falling into the hands cf
these remorseless wretches, who have wrecked the fortunes of
thousands, and driven many, a decent man to suicide orv:a*.prc-
mature grave.

»uld be spread

/hole principle

he man makes

he has repaid

ny years in a
up respectabl}'
I a few years
ited by a claim
>r a hundred
;en a careful,
life, and doea
lot raise this

his situation
uin will stare
; of ten times
:ount, and, in
ided from his

salary, or a
im to pay off
ative to the

consults his
himself, or he
falls into the
but at interest

and use the
'ery penny he

in letters of
le dealings of

They have
It we can do

1 the number
sgitimate and
eir hours of
the hands of

2 fortunes of
de or-a}.prc-

^■K^

HAROSHIP>^OF THE HIRE SYSTEM.

217

»■■■■■ ■ ■■■iiw— I — IIW II P^ ^ i , ., if, . ,1 ., | . ■ ,--^— ■■.^■ — .^ ■ ...I ■■_.■, II — •■■ -.-ii ■ ■■ ■■■■11

Thwe are endless ramifications of this principle, w'lich do not'
leed to be described h€fe, but> btlbre leaving the subject I may
allude to an evil which is ^ cruel reality, alas ! to a multitude of
unfortunate men and women. I refer to the working of the Hire
System. The decent poor; man- or woman- who is anxious to
cam 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
ddition 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
his 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 analogy 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 otJtlay, his better-to-do neighbour will often assist
lim by providing the capital necessary to enable him to make
a way for himself in the world. The neighbour does this becafuse
he knows the lad, because the family is at least related by tics 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 destitute 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 circumstances. 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 institu-
tion, it is true, can ever replace the magic bond of personal
friendship, but if we have the whole mass of Society permeated.
in every direction by brotherly associations established for the
purpose of mutual help and sympathising counsel, it is not an
impossible thing to believe that v/e shall be able to do something
to restore the missing element in modern civilisation.

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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 tor 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 diffi-
culties which, if he lived in a friendly world, would often disappear.
A man, and still more a woman, stands often quite as niuch 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. ; God, 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 rejoif-" to take by the hand and pray with, and labour for, if
thereby they can but snatch him as a brand from the burning.^
Now, we want to make more use of this, to make the Salvation
lArmyi^the.nucleus.^ofva^ceattagency for. bringing comfort and^counscl

SOCIETY NEEDS "MOTHERING."

219

>f the people,
material, but
gine that you
ck in order to
ve apparatus,
to* remember
mind that he
bled by diffi-
sn disappear.
lUch in need
Iress. Many
ragged down
d despair for
e, and make
irill help her

he world, we
time, setteth
the desolate
lising world,
no creature
one of the
One of the
friendless of
the world — ;
f people will
ibour for, if
he burning,
e Salvation
and; counsel I

to those who are at their wits' end, feeling as if in the whole world
there was no one to whom they could go.

What we want to do is to exemplify to the world the family idea.
" Our Father " is the keynote. One is Our Father, then all we are
brethren. But in a family, if anyone is troubled in mind or
conscience, there is no difficulty. The daughter goes to her father,
or the son to his mother, and pour out their soul's troubles, and are
relieved. If there is any serious difficulty a family council is held,
and all unite their will and their resources to get matters put
straight. This is what we mean to try to get done 'n the New
Organisation of Society for which we are labouring. We cannot
know better than God Almighty what will do good to man. We arc
content to follow on His lines, and to mend the world we shall seek
to restore something of th- family idea to the many hundreds of
thousands — ay, millions — who have no one wiser or more
experienced than themselves, to whom they can take their sorrows,
or consult in their difficulties.

Of course we can do this but imperfectly. Only God can create a
mother. But Society needs a great deal of mothering, much more
than it gets. And as a child needs a mot. * to run to in its
difficulties and troubles, to whom it can let out its little heart in
confidence, so men and women, weary and worn in the battles
of life, need someone to whom they can go when pressed down
with a sense of wrongs suffered or done, knowing that their confi-
dence will be preserved inviolate, and that their statements will
be received with sympathy. I propose to attempt to meet this want.
I shall establish a department, over which I shall place the wisest,
the pitifuUest, and the most sagacious men and women whom I can
find on my staff, to whom all those in trouble and perplexity shall
be invited to address themselves, ft is no .use saying that we love
our fellow men unless we try to help them, and it is no use pretending
to sympathise with the heavy burdens which darken Hicir lives
unless we try to ease them and to lighten their existence.

Insomuch as we have more practical experience of life than
other men, by so much are we bound to help their inexperience, and
share our talents with them. But if we believe they are our brothers,
and that One is our Father, even the God who will come to judge
us hereafter for all the deeds that we have done in the body, then
must we constitute, in some such imperfect way as is open to us, the
parental office. We must be willing to receive the outpourings of our.

■1

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THEtP001^nRfA>J 'S^TTaWV Eli:

1 "•'?-•*«

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)!'•'•.

striiggbng fellow mcn',Ho'^iisten "Ito^thciflong-buri'eq secret", that- has
troubled the human heart, and to welcome instead of repelling those
who would obey the Apostolic precept : "To confess their sinS't^ne'to
another." Let not that word confession scandalise any.'^^Xonfcssio'n of
the most open sort ; confession on the public platform before£the
presence of all the man's former associates in, sin has long been one of
the most potent weapons by which the Salvation;;,Ar'niy has.;w6h its
victories. That confession we have long imposed on all our converts,"
and it is the only confession which seems to us to be a condition of
Salvation. Hut this suggestion is of a different kind.^;>It is notim-.
posed as a moans of grace. It is not put forward as a preliminary to
the absolution which no one can pronounce but our Lord Himself.- It is
merely a response on our part to on? of the deepest needs and
secret longings of the actual men and women who are meeting us
daily in our work. Why should they be left to brood jn'^niisery
over their secret sin, when a plain straightforward talk withfa.man
or woman selected for his or her sympathetic common-sense and
spiritual experience might take the weight off their shoulders which
is crushing them into dull despair?

No for absolution, but for sympathy and direction, do I propose lo
establish my Advice Bureau in definite form, for in practice it has
been in existence for some time, and wonderful things have|!'been
done in the direction on which I contemplate it working. ^ I- have
no pleasure in inventing these departments, j^ They all entail hard
work and no end of anxiety, x But if we are to represent thelovei
of God to men, we must minister to all the wants and needs of the
human heart.',: Nor is it only in affairs of the heart that this'Advice
Buredu will be of service. • It will be quite as useful..in affairs of
the head. -^ As I conceive it, the Advice Bureau will bel

.THE POOR MAN'S LAWYER" AND THE POOR. MAN*S' TRIBUNE.?

There are no means in London, so far as my knowledge goes, by
which the poor and needy can obtain an^ legal assistance in the
varied oppressions and difficulties from which they must, in conse-'
quence of their poverty and associations, be continually suffering.

While the " well-to-do" classes can fall back upon skilful friends
for direction, or avail themselves of the learning and e^cperience of the
legal profession, the poor man has literally no one qualified to cibunsel
him oni^such^atters.. Jjii^ascs iOf^icluiess^e^cah^^gly'^tQjIthfi

A POPULAR COURT OF ARBITRATION.

221

■■■' y*-.^-

t". that- has
lling those
sins'^one'to
nfcssionbf
before£the
)cen bneof
as -wbh its
r converts,'
andition of
is not ini-.
i mi nary to
iiselfr It is
needs and
meeting us

•

in,,Tnisery
ith f a , man
■sense and
ders which

propose to
:tice it has
have:'been
;.^ I- have
entail hard
t the -love:
eds of the
his Advice
1 affairs of

BUNE.7

e goes, by
incc in the

in conse-:
ffering.

ful friends
ince.of the

totJbunsel
gl^'^taiithfi

parish doctor or the great hospitnt, and receive nn odd word or two
of advice, with a bottle of physic which may or m.iy not , beVof
service, liut if his circumstances arc sick, out of order, in danger of
carrying him to utter destitution, or to prison, or to the Union, he
has no one to appeal to who has the willingness or the ability to help
him.

Now, \vc want to create a Court of Counsel or Appeal, to which
anyone sufiering from imposition having to do with person, liberty.
or property, or anything else of sufficient importance, can apply, and
obtain not only advice, but practical assistance.

Among others for whom this Court would be devised is the
hl'.amefully-ncglccted class of Widows,' of whom in the East
o'i London there are 6,ooo, mostly in very destitute circumstances,
I.'i the whole of London there caiinot be less than 20,ooo, and
in England "and Wales it is estimated there are 100,000, fifty
ti'.ousand of whom are probably poor and friendless.

The treatment of these poor people by the nation is a crying
>uan^dal. Take the case of the average widow, even when left in
comfoi table circumstances. She will often be launched into a sea of
n;:;rpleAity, although able to avail herself of the best advice. But
Ihink of the multitudes of poor women, who, when they close
their husbands' eyes, lose the only friend who knows anything
about their circumstances. There may be a trifle of money or a
struggling business or a little income connected with property or
Kome other possession, all needing immediate attention, and that
of a skilful sort, in order to enable the poor creature to weather
ihe storm and avoid the vortex of utter destitution.

All we have said applies equally to orphans and friendless
people generally. Nothing, however, short of a national institu-
tion could meet the necessities of all such cases. But we can do
something, and in matters already referredf to, such as involve
loss of property, malicious prosecution, criminal and otherwise, we
can render substantial assistance.

In carrying out this purpose it will be no part of our plan to
encourage legal proceedings in others, or to have recourse to
them ourselves. All resort to law would be avoided either in
counsel or practice, unless absolutely necessary. But where
manifest injustice and wrong are perpetrated, and every other
method of obtaining reparation fails, we shall avail ourselves oC
the assistance the Law affords.

si !

ill'!.:

'in !

U-

y<.'\

/222

THE POOR MAN'S LAWYER.

E! I.

Oiir great hopc'^of usefulness, however, in this Department lies
in prevention. Tlie knowledge that the oppressed poor have in us a
friend able to apeak for them will often prevent the injustice which
cowardly and avaricious persons might oth.crwisc. inflict, and the
same considerations may induce them to accord without compulsion
t.b.e right of the weak and friendless.

)|^lso calculate upon a wide sphere of usefulness in the direction
of friendly arbitration and intervention. There will be at least one
disinterested tribunal, however humble, to which business, domestic,
or any other questions of a contentious and litigious nature can be
referred without involving any serious .Dsts,
J The following inciden-ts have been gathered from operations already
(Undertaken in this direction, and will explain and illustrate the kind
"of work we contemplate, and some of the benefits that may be
pxpected to follow from it.

About four years ago a young and delicate girl, the daughter of a pilot, came
to us in great distress. Her story was that of thousands of others. She had
been bctrpycd by a man in a good position in the West End, and was now the
mother of an infant child

Just befpre her confinement her seducer had taken her to nis solicitors and
made her sign and swear an affidavit to tiie effect that he was not the father of
the then expected child.'- Upon this he gave her a few pounds in settlement of
all claim'sx^jpon him. ?rThe poor thing was in, great poverty and distress.
Through our solicitors,' we immediately opened communications with the man,
and after negotiations, he, to avoid further proceedings, was compelled to secure
by a deed a proper allowance to his unfortunate victim for the maintenance of
her child.

SHADOWED AND CAUGHT.

A was induced to leave a comfortable home to oecome the governess of

the motherless children of Mr. G , whom she found to be a kind and con-
siderate employer. After she had been in his service some little time he pro-
posed that she should take a trip to London. To this she very gladly
consented, all the more so when he offered to take her himself to a good
appointment he had secured for her. In London he seduced her, and kept her
as his mistress until, tired of her, he told her to go and do as " other women
did."

Instead of descending to this infamy, she procured work, and so supported
herself and child in some degree of comfort, when he sought her out and again
dragged her down. -Another child was born, and a second time he threw her
up and left her Jg starve. It was then.she applied to our people. ' We hunted

DEFENCE OF THE DEFENCELESS.

223

nent lies
e in us a
ce which
and the
mpulsion

direction
least one
domestic,
c can be

is already
the kind
may be

pilot, came
. She had
as now the

licitors and
fie father of
:ttlement of
id distress,
h the man,
:d to secure
ntenance of

;overness of
d and con-
ime he pro-
irery gladly
' to a good
nd kept her
her women

> supported
It and again
le threw her
We hunted

u{}1the man, fulluwcd him to the country, threatened him with public exposure,
and forced from him the payment to his victim of £(30 down, an allowance oi
J[^\ a week, and an Insurance Policy on his life for j^4So in her favour.

£60 FROM ITALY.

C. was seduced by a young Italian of good position in society, who promised
to marry her, but a short time before the day fixed for the ceremony he told her
urgent business called him abroad. He assured her he would return in two
years and make her his vife. He wrote occasionally, and at last broke her
b'^art by sending the news of his marriage to another, adding insult to injury by
suggesting that she should come and live with his wife as her maid, offering at
the same time to pay for the maintenance of the child till it was old enough to
be placed in charge of the captain of one of the vessels belonging to his firm.

None of these promises were fulfilled, and C, with her mother's assistance,
for a time managed to support herself and child ; but the mother, worn out by
age and trouble, could help her no longer, and the poor girl was driven to
despair. Her case was brought before us, and we at once set to work to assist
her.. The Consul of the town where the seducer lived in style was communicated
with. Approaches were made to the young man's father, who, to save the dis-
honour that would follow exposure, paid over £(yo. This helps to maintain the
child ; and the girl is in domestic service and doing well.

THE HIRE SYSTEM.

" The most cruel wrongs are frequently inflicted on the very poorest
persons, in connection with this method of obtaining Furniture,
Sewing Machines, Mangles, or.oiher articles. Caught by the lure of
misleading advertisements, the poor are induced to purchase articles
to. be paid for by weekly or monthi}' instalments. They struggle
through half the amount perhaps, at all manner of sacrifice, when
some delay in the payment is made the occasion not only for seizing
the goods, which they have come to regard as their own, and on
which their very existence depends, but by availing themselves of
some technical clause in the agreement, for robbing them in addition.
In such circumstances the poor things, being utterly friendless, have
to submit to these infamous extortions without remedy. Our Bureau,
will be open itoi all such. •

• -■ ■;n'VA**'.''' !.-'• '.. 1 ■ 'A

TALLYMEN, MONEY LENDERS, "AND BILLS-OF-SALEMONGERS. »

Here again we have a class who prey upon the poverty of the

people, inducing them to purchase things for which they have oftett

no immediate use — anyway for which there is no real necessity — by

all manner. of .speciQws^ promises -as. to ^eas^terms of repayment

I. I

!i.l

; 'i

: ,

.''1:

POOR •'MAN'S* CAWYER.'

fhaving'got.thcir 'dupes into; Ihcir power they drag them
cjown"^ to misery, and very often iflter tcitiporal ruin; once in their
net escape is exceedingly difficult, if not impossible. We propose
to help the poor victims by this Scheme, as far as possible.

'Our Buredu, we expect will be of immense service to Clergymen,
•Ministers of all denominations,'* District Visitors, Missionaries, and
others who^frjfily mix among the poor, seeing that they must bo
frfequently appealed to for legal a'^vice, which they are quite unable
t(T give, /and equally at a loss to obtain. We shall always be ver)-
^glad to'ffssist such.'*'"

THE DEFENCE OF UNDEFENDED PERSONS.

/rTfic conviction is gradually fixing itself upon the public mind that
1 not inconsiderable number of innocent persons are from time to
time convicted of jcrimcv and offences, the reason for which often is
the mere inability to secure an efficierit defence. Although there arc
several societies in London and the country dealing with the criminal
ptasses, and more particularly with discharged prisoners, yet there
Woes not appear to be one for the purpose of assisting unconvicted
prisoners. This work we propose boldly to take up.

By this and many other ways we shall help those charged with
criminal offences, who, on a most careful enquiry, might reasonably
be supposed to be innocent, but who, through want of means, arc
unable to obtain the legal assistance, and produce the evidence
'necessary for an efficient defence.

We shall not pretend authoritatively to judge as to who is innocent
or who is guilty, but if after full explanation and enquiry the person
charged may reasonably be supposed to be innocent, and is not in a
position to defend himself, then we should feel free to advise such a
case, hoping thereby to save such person and his family and friends
from much misery, and possibly from utter ruin.

.Mr. Justice Field recently remarked : —

.."For a man to assist another man who was vender a criminal charge was a
highly laudable and praiseworthy act, ' If a man was without friends, and an
Englishman came forward and legitimately, and for the purpose of honestly
assisting :him with means to put before the Court his case, that was a highly
laudable and praiseworthy act, and he should be the last man in the country to
complain of any man for so doing."

/These remarks are ' endorsed by most Judges and Magistrates,
tind^ur^ Advice^ Bureau will give practical effect^ to them./

I '

drag them
ice in their
Ve propose
le.

Clergymen,
maries, and
ey must bo
lulte unabk
lys be ver}!

ic mind that
rom time to
liich often is
gh there arc
the criminal
rs, yet there
unconvicted

harged with

t reasonably

f means, are

le evidence

is innocent
f the person

1 is not in a
dvlse such a

and friends

charge was a
iends, and an
le of honestly
t was a highly
the country to

Magistrates,]

/ADVICE. BUREAU^IN CRIMINAL, CHARGES? T225

Jlre^t^^cry 'TiT[se'-an^attem'pt"^villVtre""<4t1ade^^^ not only ;the

outward Teformaiion, but thc-iactuakrcgeneratlon 'of all'Whom we
assist.''^5pccial-attcnti6n,as has been^escribed under theaUilSrimitial
Kefoi'm; -Department," will* be paid to, first offenders.
:. VWe. shall endeavour also toassist,,"as faras we have''aBTHty,"^tKeJ
Wives V and .Children 'of persons whorVare 'undergoing, sentences;
by endeavouring to "^obtain " for . them^ iemployment, or otherwise
rendering them help.' Hundreds of this class fall into the deepest
distress and demoralisation through want of friendly aid in the
forlorn circumstances in which ^'thcy find themselves on the con-
viction of relatives on whom they have been dependent for a liveli-
hood, or for protection and direction in the ordinary affairs of life.^

This Department will also be responsible for gathering intelligence,'
spreading information, and the general prosecution of such measures
as are likely to lead to the much-needed bcneficialchanges in.our
Prison Management.; In short' it will seek to become the true'^friend
and saviour of the 'Criminal Classes in general, and in doing so
we shall, desire to 'act in harmony with the societies at* present in
existence, ' who .may ^ be '{^ seeking for objects kindred' to the
Advice Bureau.

We pen the following list to give some idea of the topics on which
the Advice Bureau may be consulted : —

Children, Custody of ^ . Empliyers Liability Act
Compensationfor Injuries Executors, Duties of
„ ..for Accident i

„ *^for Defamation Factory Act, Breach of
I, 'for ., Loss., of Frau^,_^ttempted
jEm^loy-

iment,/ ':&Cy jpdtodwill. Sale ot,
&ci. CruarantcQ, ."Forfeited

.Confiscaiidn by Landlol^s^
Contracts, Breach of^ ;Heit--at-Law>
Copyright, Infringement^ ; Husbands and Wives,

Accidents, dlaim for
Administration of Estates
Adulteration of Food and
j - Dnigs4

Agency, Questions of
Agreements, Disputed
Affiliation Cases
Animals, Cruelty to
Arrest, AVltongfuI
Assault

BafiTtruptcies
Billi^f Exchange
Billi^JSale
Bonds, Forfeited^
Breach of Promise

Childreq, Cru^t^oi

Vof
CoantyjGpurt Cases

Oebts> .^

Distress, IllegaV
Divorce
Ejectment Cases

^Disputes. ofj

Imprisonment, False,-
Infnts, Custody of/
In I Stacy, Cases p^

Judgim:nt,Si|Tm^ses,i

!■'!-

\i.

r'l

-ir.^

226

THE POOR MAN'S LAWYER'

Lundlord and

Cases
Leases, Lapses

Koiu'wals of
Lt'pafies. 1 disputed
Libel Cases
Licences

SlitMilVs

Smvlics Kslreateil

J'artnrrsliip, Tlic Law o\

Ki'onts, KccistratlDMand Tenancies, Dispntcd

Tenant Nuisances, Alie;^«.<l
and

Infrino;cnient uf
Pawnbrokers and their

Pledges
Polirc Cases
Marriage Law, Question Probate

of llie
Masters' and Servants' Kates and Taxes
Acts

Trade Marks, Jnfring(|

in<nt of
Trespass, Cases of
Trusters and Trusts

Seduction, Cas(>s of
Servants' Wronglul Dis-
rnissal

Wages Kept liack
Wills, Disputed an^

Unproved
Women, Cruelty to
Workmen, Grievances oi

&c., &c

Reversionary Interests
Meeting, Kight of I'ublic
Mortgages
Neglife'.'ucc, Alleged
J4cxt of Kin Wanted;

The Advice Bureau will tlieiefore be, first of all, a place where
men and women in trouble can come when they please to com*
municate in confidence the cause of their anxiety, with a certainty
that they will receive a sympathetic hearing and the best advice.

Secondly, it will be a Poor Man's Lawyer, giving the best legal
counsel as to the course to be pursued in the various circumstances
\yith which the poor find themselves confronted.

-Thirdly, it will act as a Poor Man's Tribune, ?nd will undertake
the defence of friendless prisoners supposed to be innocent, cogcther
(Witli the resistance of illegal extortions, and the prosecution of
pffendets who refuse legal satisfaction fc the wrongs they have
committed.

Fourthly, it will act wherever it is called upon as a Court of
Arbitration between litigants, where the decision will be according
to equity, and the costs cut down to t!ie lowest possible figure.

Such a Department cannot be improvised ; but it is already ir. A
fair^way^of developtnent^ andit jcan bardly feil to 4o great good.

ipiitf'd
Infring^

?s of
Ir lists

iack

itcd an()

Itv to

icvancc.s oi

- 'J

ice wlicrc
to com*
certainty
vice.

best legal
mstanres

mdertake

together

cution of

ley have

Court of

according

irc.

.ady ir. a

;ood.

Section j.^OUR INTELLIGENCE DEPARTMENT.

An indispensable adjunct of this Scheme will be the institution of
what may be called an Intelligence Department at Headquarters,
Power, it has been said, belongs to the best informed, and if we are
cftecti'ally to deal with the forces of social evil, we must have ready,
at our fingers' ends the accumulated experience and information of
the whole world on this subject. ' The collection of facts and- the
systematic record of them would be invaluable, rendering the results
of the experiments of previous cenerations available for the informa-]
tion of our own.

At the present there is no central institution, either governmierital
or otherwise, in this country or any other, which charges itself^with;
the duty of collecting and collating the ideas and conclusionst'on
Social Economy, eo far as they are lilely to help the solution of the'
problem we have in hand. The Britisli Home Office has only.begunl
to index its own papers. The Local Government Board is in a1
similar condition, and, although each particular ' Blue Book may ibe]
admirably indexed, there is no classified index of the whole series^
If this is the case with the Government, it is not likely that the ,ifth\ir?
! lerable private organisations which are pecking here and there atfthe
social question should possess any systematised method for the purpose'

of comparing notes and storing information. This, Intelligence Depart-

ment, which I propose to found on a small scale at first, will have in
it the germ of vast extension which will, if adequately: supported,'
become a kind of University, in which the accumulated experiences]
of the human race will be massed, digested, and rendered: available'
t-) the humblest toiler in the great work of social reformrt^At the
present moment, who is there that can produce in any ^^of; our
museums and universities as much as a classified index of >publica-
tions relating to one of the many heads, under which I have, dealt
with this subject ? .^ Who is there among all our.. wise men*and "social
reformers that can send me a, list of all the" best tracts "^'iiporir^sayj
the establishment of agricultural colonies or the^uexperim'PnltSjthat
have been made in dealing with inebriates ; or the beg^^^au. for!,tha
construction of .a working man's cottage?

■i

228

OUR INTELLIGENCE DEPARTMENT/,

fc'-^J^-f

.l''or tiiQ (Icvclopmcnt of this Scheme 1 want an OlTuc to bcfft with,
iir\\1iicli,*iiiulcr tlic head of the varied subjects treated of -hr this
volume, I niay liavc arranged the coiulcnscd essence of all the best
books tiiat have been writte?), and the names and addresses of tliose
whose opinions are worth having upon them, together with a note of
what tliose opinions are, and the results of experiments which have
been made in relation to them. I want to establish a system which
will enable me to use, not only the eyes and hands of Salvation
onicersj but of sympathetic friends in all parts of the world, for
purposes of noticing and reporting at once every social experiment
of importance, any words of wisdom on the social question, whether
it may be the breeding of rabbits, the organisation of an cmigraticii
service, the best method of conducting a Cottage Farm, or the
best way of rooking potatoes. There is nothing in the whole range
of our'operations upon which we should not be accumulating and
recording the results of human experience. What 1 want is to get
the essence of wisdom which the wisest have gathered from the
widest experience, rendered instantly available for the humblest
worker in the Salvation Factory or Farm Colony, and for any o\hr.i
toiler in similar fields of social progress.

It can be done, and in the service of the people it ought to be done.
I look for helpers in this department a'mong those who hitherto
may not have cared for the Salvation Army, ' ut who in the seclusion
of their studies and libraries will assist in the compiling of this
great Index of Sociological Experiments, and who would be willing,
in this form, to help in this Scheme, as Associates, for the ameliora-
ting of the condition of the people, if in nothing else than in usirj
their eyes and ears, and giving me the benefit of their brains as- to
where know w-dgc lies, and how it can best be utilised. I propose to
make a beginning by putting two capable men and a boy in an
oflice, with in.structions to cut out, prescive, and verify all con-
temporary records in the daily and weekly press that have a bearing
upon any branch of our departments. Round tligsc two men and a
boy*, will grow up, I confidently believe, a vast ojganisation of
2C^alous unpaid workers, who will co-operate in makingj^our. Inte.-
J^gencc Department a great storehouse of informatiou^fea universal
library where any man may learn what is the sum of human know-
ledge upon any branch of the subject which we have taken iii hand.

ill with,
'•ill. this
Ihc best
af those
I note of
ch have
in which
Jalvation
orld, for
pcrimciit
whether
lif^raticii
, or the
)lc range
ting and
is to gel
from the
liumblest
my o^hcr

be done,
hitherto
seclusion
of this
wiUing,
nnchora-
in usirj
is as, to
oposc to
)y in an
all con-
bearing
eit and a
ation of
ir, Inte.-
inivcrsal
know-
li liaud.

Section 6.— CO-OPERATION IN GENERAL.

If anyone asked me to state hi one word what seemed likely to be
the key of the solution of the Social Problem I should answer un-
hesitatingly Co-operation. It being. always understood that it is Co-
operation conducted on righteous principles, and for wise and
benevolent ends ; otherwise Association cannot be expected to bear
t»ny more profitable fruit than Individualism. Co-operation is applied
association — association for the purpose of production and distribu-
tion.^ Co-operation implies the voluntary combination of individuals
♦o - attaining an object by mutual help, mutual counsel, and mutual
u<_i...^5 .There is a great deal of idle talk in the world just now
about capital, as if capital were the enemy of labour. ; It is quite
true that there are capitalists not a few who may be regarded ad the
enemies, not only of labour, but of the human race; tut capital
itself, so far from being a natural enemy of labour, is the great object
which the labourer has constantly , in view. , However much an
agitator may denounce capital, his one great grievance is that he has
not enough of it for himself.^? Capital, therefore, is not an evil in
itself; on the contrary, it is gobd— so good that one of the great aims
of. the social reformer, ought'to be to facilitate its 'widest possible
distribution ancng his fcllovy-men.i^It.is the cc» ;jcstion of capital
thati^is ev'' anc the labours question will never be finally solved
until even r vu'-er is his own capitalist.

AH this is It' enough, and has been said a thousand times already,
but, unfortunately, with the saying of it the matter ends. ;. Co-opera-
tion has. been brought into practice in relation" to distribution with
considerable success, ^Mt co-operation,'as a means of production, has
not achieved anything like the success that was anticipated, c' Again
andagaitu^ertterprises have been begun on co-operative pnnciplcs
which b'idffair, in""the opinion of the vjromoters, to succeed : but after
one,' two. hree, br ten years, the enterprise which was started with
such hikJ: [ i>pe\Jiiis dwindled away into either total or partinl failure.

!!''

■. i

230

CO^DPERATION IN GENERAL.

At present, many co-operative unckrt.ikiiigs arc nothing more .or less
than huge Joint Stock Limited Liahility conccrns;^ shares of which
are held largely by working people, but not necessarily, and some-
times not at all by those who are actually employed in the so-called
co-operative business. Now, why is this? Why do co-operative
firms, co-operative factories, and co-operative Utopias so very often
come to grief ? I believe the- cause is an open secret, and can be
discerned by anyone who will look at the subject with an open eye.

The success of industrial concerns is largely a question of manage-
ment. ■ Management signifies government, and government implies
authority, and authority is the last thing which co-operators of the
Utopian order are willing to recognise as an element essential to the
success of their Schemes. 'I'lie co-operative institution which is
governed on Parliamentaiy principles, with unlimited right of
debate and right of obstru k i, will never be able to compete
successfully with institution^, ich are directed by a single

brain wielding the united resoui^es of a disciplined and obedient
army of workers. Hence, to make co-operation a success you
must superadd to the principle of consent the principle of
authority ; you must invest in those to whom you entrust the manage-
ment of your co-operative establishment the same liberty of action
that is possessed by the owricr of works on the other side of the
street. There is no delusion more common among men than the
belief that liberty, which is a good thing in itscl'', is so good as to
enable those who possess it to dispense with all other good things-
But as no man lives by bread alone, neither can nations or factories
or shipyards exist solely upon unlimited freedom to have their own
way. In co-operation we stand pretty much where the French
nation stood immediately after the outburst of the Revolution. In
the enthusiasm of the proclamation of the rights of man, and the
repudiation of the rotten and effete rc'iiinie of the Bourbons, the
French peasants and workmen imagined that they were inaygurating
the n\illennium when they scrawled Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity
across all the churches in every city of France, They carried their
principles of freedom and license to the logical, ultimate, and
attempted to manage their army on Parliamentary principles. ■ It
did not work ; their undisciplined levies were driven back ; disorder
reigned in the Republican camp ; and the French Revolution wuuld
have been stifled in its cradle had not the in.stinct of- the nation
discerned in time the weak point in its armour. Mcnaced^by,.foi:ci^n

^'SUCCESS IN CO-OPERATION:

23^.

•^^r,

""T

)rc .or less
of. which
md some-
so-called
-operative
very often
nd can be
pen eye.
if maiiage-
nt irhplics
ors of the
itial to the
which is
right of
» compete
a single
I obedient
cccss you
inciple of
e nianage-
of action
de of the
than the
Dod as to
od things-
factories
heir own
French
ition. In
and the
bons, the
ygu rating
raternity
ried their
late, and
iples. • It
disorder
on would
16" nation
ly^foccififn

iw^rs^and intestine revolt, the Republic established ah<ir6ri.^discipline
in :its .'army, and enforced obedience by the^sunimary process of
military execution. The liberty and the enthusiasm 'developed by
the outburst of the long pent-up revolutionary forces -supplied the
motive power, but it was the discipline of the revolutionary armies,
the stern, unbending obedience which was enforced in all ranks from
the highest to the low st, which created for Napoleon the admirable
military instrument by which he shattered every throne in Europe
and swept in triumph from Paris to Moscow.

In industrial affairs we are very much like the French Republic
before it teriipered its doctrine of the rights of man by the duty of
obedience on the part of the" soldier. . We have got to introduce dis-
cipline into the industrial army, we have to superadd the principle of
authority to the principle of co-operation, and so to enable the
v/orker to profit to the full by the increased productiveness of the
v/illing labour of men who are employed in their own workshops and
on their own property. There is no need to clamour for great
schemes of State Socialism. The whole thing can be done simply,-
economically, and speedily if only the workers will practice as much
self-denial for the sake of establishing themselves as capil;alists, as
the Soldiers of the Salvation Army practice every year in Self Denial
Week. What is the sense of never making a levy except during a
strike? Instead of calling for a shillinp-, or two shillings, a week in-
order to maintain men who are starving in idleness because of a dis-;
pute with their masters, why should there not be a levy kept up for;
weeks or months, by the workers, for the purpose of setting them-
selves up in business as masters ? There would then be no longer
a capitalist owner face to face with the masses of the proletariat, but
.all the means of production, the plant, and all the accumulated re-
sources, of capital would really be at the disposal of labour. This
will never be done, however, as long as co-operative experiments are
carried on in the present archaic fashion.

Believing in co-operation as the ultimate solution, if to co-opera-
tion you can add subordination, I am disposed to attempt some-
thing in this direction in my new Social Scheme. I shall endeavour
to start a Co-operative Farm qn the principles of Ralahine, and base
ihe whole of my Farm Colony on a Co-operative foundation.] ^

In starting this little Co-operative Commonwealth, I am reminded
byithose who are always at a man's elbow to fill him with forebodings
jf JUiJo ..lo.Q.k,^aUUie -failuresj^which, L have just_r:fefeiTed.t9^ jyhich,

; Hi

■Jl

232

CO-OPERATION IN GENERAL".

make up the history of the attempt to realise ideal commonwealths in
this practical workaday world. S'4. Now, I have read the history;fof the
many attempts at co-operation" that have been made to form commun-
istic settlements in the United States, and am perfectly familiar with
the sorrowful fate with which nearly all have been overtaken ; but the
story of their failures docs not deter mc in the least, for I regard
them as nothing more than warnings to avoid certain mistakes,
beacons to illustrate the need of proceeding on a different tack.
Broadly speaking, your experimental communities fail because your
Utopias all start upon the system of equality and government by
vote of the majority, and, as a nccesisary and unavoidable con-
sequence, your Utopians get to loggerheads, and Utopia goes to smash.
1 shall avoid that rock. The Farm Colony, like all the other
departments of the Scheme, will be governed, not on the principle of
counting noses, but on the exactly opposite principle of admitting
no noses into the concern that arc not willing to.be guided by the
directing brain.'"" It will be managed on principles which assert that
the fittest' ought to rule, anrl it will provide for the fittest being
selected, and having got them at the top, will insist on universal
and unquestioning obedience from those at the bottom. If any-
one does not like to work for his rations and submit to
the orders of his superior OfTicers he can leave. *' There is no
compulsion on him to stay. The world is wide, and outside the
confines of our Colony and the operations of our Corps my authority
does not extend. But judging from our brief experience it is not
from revolt against authority that the Scheme is destined to fail.

There cannot be a greater mistake in this world than to imagine
that men object lo be governed. They like to be governed, provided
li \t the governor has his "head screwed on , right", and
that he is prompt to hear and ready to sec and recognise all that
is vital to the interests of the commonwealth.^;: So far from< there
being an innate objection on the part of mankind to being governed^
the instinct to obey is so universal that even when governments have
gone blind, and deaf, and paralytic, rotten with corruption and hope-
lessly behind the times, they still contrive to live on." Against a capable
Government no people ever rebel, only when stupidit5^ and incapacity,
have taken possession of the scat. of power do insurrections break
out.

nagine

ovided

and

1 that

there

ernedy^

have

hopc-

pablc

Section 7.— A MATRIMONIAL BUREAU.

There is another direction in which something ought to be done
to restore the natural advantages enjoyed by every rural community
which have been destroyed by the increasing tendency of mankind
to come together in huge masses. I refer to that which is after all
one of the most important elements in every human life, that of
marrying and giving in marriage. In the natural life of a country
village all the lads and lasses grow up together, they meet together
in religious associations, in daily employments, and in their amuse-
ments on the village green. They have learned their A, B, C and pot-
hooks together, and when the time comes for pairing off they have had
excellent opportunities of knowing* the qualities and the defects of
those whom. they select as their partners in life. Everything in such
a community lends itself naturally to the indfSpensable preliminaries
of love-making, and courtships, which, however' much they maybe
laughed at, contribute more than most things to the^ happiness
of life. But in a great city all this is destroyed. In London at
the present moment how many hundreds, nay thousands, of young
men and young women, who are living in lodgings, are practically
without any opportunity of making the acquaintance of each ^ other,
or of any one of the other sex 1 The street is no doUbf, the city
substitute for the village green, jind what a substitute it is 4

(t has been bitterly said by one who knew well: whatt-he was
talking about, "There are thousands' of young men to-day, who
have no right; to call any woman by her Christian' name, except
the girls they ; meet ' plying their" dreadful trade ■.. in 'our,^ pliblic
thoroughfares."J^ As long as that is the'case. vice has^ari^etnoithous
advantage over, virtue ; suchVan cbnormal' social arrangement inter-
dicts morality and places, avast premium upon prostitution]). "We
must get back to nature if we have to cope with this ghastly ieyil)

cope „ _, _.-..

There ought to be more opportunities aTorded fdr.heajthyitiuman
intercourse^between .young . men^ and i^oyn^ «wi>mgii^orx£aiil^i2cifit3

•1

'234

A" MATRIMONIAL BUftEAU.'

rid itself of a great responsibility for all the wrecks of manhood an*d
womanhood with which our streets are strewn, unless it does make
some attempt to bridge this hideous chasm which ya\yns between the
two halves of humanity. The older I grow the more absolutely am
I opposed to anything that violates the fundamental law of the family.
Humanity is composed of two sexes, and woe be to those who
attempt to separate them into distinct bodies, making of each half one
whole ! ;. It has been tried in monasteries and convents with but poor
success^' yet what our fervent Protestants do not seem to see is
that we are reconstructing a similar false system for our young
people without the safeguards and the restraints of convent walls
or the sanctifying influence of religious conviction. The conditions
of. City, life, the absence of the enforced companionship of the
village* and small town, the difficulty of young people finding
harmless opportunities of friendly intercourse, all. tends to create
classes^ of celibates who are not chaste, and whose irregular
and lawless indulgence of a* universal instinct is one of the most
melancholy features of the ptiesent state of society. Nay, so generally
is this recognised, that one of the terms by which one of the con-
sequences of this unnatural state of things is popularly known is
" the social ,evil," as if all other social evils were comparatively
,un worthy of notice in comparijon to this.

While I have been busily occupied in working out my Scneme for
ther registration of labour, it has occurred to me more than once,
wh)r^:couldi^not something like the 'same plan be adopted in
relation $ to/ men \ who v want * wives . and women v who want
husbands ? ^: Marriage is -•> with most ' people : largely a matter of
opportunity.-.?; Many a man~ and many a woman, who would, if they
hadfcome 'together, have . formed a happy household, are leading at
this? moment miserable''^ and 'solitary lives, suflering in body and in
soul, irifconsequence* of/' tlieir' exclusion from the natural state of
matrimony, il Of. course, the registration of the unmarried who wish
to.-marry^;would.rbe|a.,matter:of/r much greater delicacy than the
registratioriTof the. joiners' T and stone-masons who wish to obtain
worltJm;But the thing is not impossible. •• I have repeatedly found
in myjvexperience^ that many a man and many a woman would only
be ^oojglad to ha v'e^ a' friendly hint as to where they, might prosecute
theijiattehtions^ or. from which they might receive proposals.

.I^p^inection.with^such an' agency, if it wei-e established--^for X am
lifitj^l^glDS isk uaiieriake thb. task^l am oihl^ .thrawihfiiLQuUa

A TRAINING HOME OF HOUSEWIFERY.'

235

manhood an'd
i it does make
s between the

absolutely am
V of the family.

to those who
f each half one
with but poor
2em to see is
or our young
convent walls
fhe conditions
mship of the
eople finding
nds to create
ose irregular
: of the most
% so generally
e of the con-
rly known is
:omparatively

' Scneme for

than once,

adopted in

who want

matter of

ould, if they

re leading at

body and in

ral state of

id who wish

'y than the

5h to obtain

tedly found

would only

It prosecute

lis;

d-^for 1 am
wioil^QULia'

possible suggestion as to the development in the direction of meeting
a much needed want, there might be added training homes forj
matrimony. My heart bleeds for many a young couple whom I see
launching out into the sea of matrimony with no housewifery
experience. The young girls who leave our public elementary
schools and go out into factories have never been trained to honfe
duties, and yet, when taken to wife, are unreasonably expected to
fill worthily the difficult positions of the head of a household and
the mother of a family. A month spent before marriage in a
training home of housewifery would conduce much more to the
happiness of the married life than the honeymoon which
immediately follows it.

Especially is this the case with those who marry to go abroad
and settle in a distant country. I often marvel when I think of the
utter helplessness of the modern woman, compared with the handi-
ness of her grandmother. How many of our girls can even bake a
a loaf? . The baker has killed out one of our fundamental
domestic arts. But if you are in the Backwoods or in the Prairie or
in the Bush, no baker's cart comes round every morning with the
new-made bread, and I have often thought with sorrow of the kind
of stuff which this poor wife must serve up to her hungry husband.
As it is with baking, so it is with washing, with milking, with*
spinning, with all the arts and sciences of the household, which
were formerly taught, as a matter of course, to all the daughters
who were born in the world. Talk about woman's rights, one of
, the first of woman's rights is to be trained to her trade, to be
queen of her household, and mother of her children.

Speaking of colonists leads me to the suggestion whether
something could not be done to supply, on a well-organised'
system, the thousands of bachelor miners or the vast host of
unmarried males who are struggling with the wilder'-.t-'? on the
outskirts of civilisation, with capable wives from the overplus
of marriageable females who abound in our great towns. Woman
supplied in adequate quantities, is the great moraliser of Society,
but woman doled out as she is in the Far West and the
Australian bush, in the proportion of one woman to about a dozen
men, is a fertile source of vice and crime. Here again we must
get back to; natur% whose fundamental laws our social arrangements
have rudely set on one side with consequences which as usual she does
(DPt.faiLto. exa.ct .with„ remorseless severity. -^Xhere. hayg; aLwaysJb^n]

t3i

K-

236'

A~ MATRIMONIAL BUREAU^i^

born into the world and continue to be bom boy^^'and girlS" in! fairly
equal proportions, but withcolonising and soldiering our men go away,
leaving behind them a continually growing surplus of marriageable
but unmarried spinsters, who cannot ^J^ spin, : and who are utterly
unable- to find themselves husbands.' r This is a wide, field on" the
discussion of which I must not enter."!": I merely indicate it as one
of those departments in which an intelligent philanthropy might
find a great sphere for its endeavours; but it would be better not
to touch it at all than to deal with it with light-hearted precipitancy
and without due consideration of all the difficulties and dangers
connected therewith. " : Obstacles, however, exist to be overcome and
converted into victories. - There is even a certain fascination about
the, difficult and dangerous, which appeals very strongly to all who
know that it is the apparently insolvable difficulty which contains
within ?,t3 bosom the key to the problem which you are seeking to
solve.

*^^

imt

s^ in. fairl3'
n go away,
irriageable
e utterly
Id t>n;the
: it as one
Py might
>etter not
Jcipitancy

(iangers
come and
ion about

all who

contains

-el;ing to

Section 8— WHITECHAPEI^BY-THE-SEA.

In considering tne various means by which some substantial
improvement can be made in the condition of the toiling masses,
recreation cannot be omitted. I have repeatedly had forced
upon me the desirability of making it possible for them to spend
a few hours occasionally by the seaside, or even at times three or
four days. Notwithstanding the cheapened rates and frequent
excursions, there are multitudes of the poor who, year in and
out, never get beyond the crowded city, with the exception of
dragging themselves and their children now and then to the parks
on holidays or hot summer evenings. The majority, especially
the inhabitants of the East of London, never get away from
the sunless alleys and grimy st-reets in which they exist from
year to year. It is true that a few here and there of the adult
population, and a good many of the children, have a sort
of annual charity excursion to Epping Forest, Hampton Court, or
perhaps to the sea. But it is only the minority. The vast number,
while possessed of a passionate love of the sea, which only those
who have mixed with them can conceive, pass their whole lives
without having once looked over its blue waters, or watched its
waves breaking at their feet.

Now I am noc so foolish as to dream that it is possible to make any
such change in Society as will enable' the poor man to take his
wife, and children for a fortnight's sojourn, during the oppressive
summer days, to brace them up for their winter's task, although this
might be as desirable in their case as in that of their more highly
favoured fellow-creatures. ' But 1 would make it pos<iible for every
man, woman and child, to get, now and then, a day's refreshing
change by a visit to that never-failing source of interest.

In the carrying out of 4his plan, .we are met at the onset with" a
difficultx ,.Q f some Ittle jiagnitude, : ant^ithati is^the^n ece ssityjo fi^

! 't'l

238

jwhitechapel-by-the-sf;i^

I s

! i

1 !

vastly reduced charge, in the cost of the journey. To do anj-thing
effective we must be able to get a man from^hitechapel or Stratford
to the sea-side and back for a shilling.

Unfortunately,- London '■ is- sixty miles from the sea. : Suppose we
take it at seventy miles. -^^^^This would involve \ a journey of ; one
hundred and forty miles for the small sum of is. .Can this.be ddrie? I
thmk it can, and done -to pay the railway companies ; ;: otherwise
there is ho ground to hope for this part of%iy Scheme ever being
realised. *" But I think that this great boon can be granted to the
poor people without the dividends being sensibly affected. -^ I. .am
told that the cost of haulage for an ordinary passenger;? train,
carrying from five hundred to a thousand persons, is 2s. 7d. per mile.;
a railway company could lake six hundred passengers seventy miles
there; and bring them seventy miles back, at a cost of ;^i8 is. 8d,
Six hundred passengers at a shilling is ;^30, so that there would be a
clear profit to the company of nearly ;^I2 on the haulage, towards
the payment of interest on the capital, wear and tear of line, &c.
But I reckon, at a very moderate computation, that two hundred
thousand persons would travel to and fro every season. An addition
of ;^ 10, OCX) to the exchequer of a railway company is not to be
despised, and this would be a mere bagatelle to the indirect profits which
would follow the establishment of a settlement which must in due
course necessarily become very speedily a large and active com-
munity.;

This it would be necessary to bring home* to the railway com-
panies, and for the execution of this part of my Scheme I must wait
till I get some manager sufficiently public-spirited to try the experi-
ment. When such a man is found, I purpose to set at once about
my Sea-Side Establishment. This will present the following special
advantages, which I am quite certain will be duly appreciated by the
very poorest of the London population : —

An es.dte of some three hundred acres would be purchased, on
which buildings would be erected, calculated to meet the wants of
this class of excursionists^:

Refreshments would be provided at rates very similar to thpse
charged at our London Food Dep6ts. There would, of course, be
greater facilities in the way of rooms and accommodation generally.

'Lodgings for. invalids, children, and those, requiring* to make a
short stay in the place would be supplied at the lowest prices. Beds
ificuLsini^emen and. single women could be .charged^ at the Ipw rate

A BRIGHTON FOR THE EAST END/

239

an}"thing
r Stratford

uppose we
ey of one
>eddrie?:i
otherwise
ever being
ted to the
ed. ^I.^am
igei:> train,
. per mile.;
enty miles
1 8 IS. 8d,
vould be a
e, towards

line, &c.

hundred
n addition
not to be
ofits which
ust in due
:tive com-

Iway com-
must wait
he experi-
nce about
ng special
ed by the

based, on
wants of

to thpse
ourse, be
;nerally.
> make a
s. Beds

Ipwrate

of sixpence a night, and children in proportion, while accommoda-
tion of a suitable character, on ..very, moderate terms^ oould be
arranged for married people. '

No public-houses would be allowed within'cth'e precinHS of "(be
settlement.

A park, playground, music, boats, -covered ! converiiences-^for
bathing, without the expense of hiring a machine, and other arrange-
ments for the comfort and enioyment of the people would be provided.

The estate would form one of the Colonies of the general enter-
prise, and on it would be grown fruit, vegetables, flowers, and other,
produce, for the use of the visitors, and sold at the lowest remunera-
tive rates. ,One of the first provisions for the comfort of the
excursionists would be the erection of a large hall, affording ample
shelter in case of unfavourable weather, and in this and other parts
of the place there would be the fullest opportunity for ministers of all
denominations to hold religious services in connection with i an ^
excursionists they might bring with them.

There would be shops for tradesmen, houses for reside'ntsp'a
museum with a panorama and stuffed whale ; boats would be let out
at moderate prices, and a steamer to carry people so many miles out
*o sea, and so many miles back for a penny, with a possible bout of
sickness, for which no extra charge would be made.

In fact the railway fares and refreshment arrangements would be
»n sacn a scale, that a husband and wife could have a 70-mile ride
through the green fields, the new-mown hay, the waving grain or
fruit laden orchards ; could wander for hours on the seashore, have
comforting and nourishing refreshment, and be landed back at home
sober, cheered and invigorated for the small sum of 3s. A couple
of children under 12 might be added at is. 6d. — nay, a whole family^
husband, wife and four children, supposing, one is in arms, could have
a day at the seaside, without obligation or charity, for 5s.
/The gaunt, hungry inhabitants of the Slums would save up their
halfpence, and come by thousands ; clergymen would find it possible
to bring half the poor and needy occupants of their ^parishes ;
schools, mothers* meetings, and philanthropic societies of all
descriptions would come down wholesale; in short, what Brighton
is to the West End and middle classes, this place would be to the
East End poor, nay, to the poor of the Metropolis generally, a
Whitechapel-by-the-Sea.

'. t

■■:i{i

.'!i

I Ml

J24a WHITECHAPEL-BY-V: '.'^-BZAT

^ — ,..., -*y^v..Mn,.-!];::...^ ...... ' -,^v, ...;■ ., -- — ■ - . -. ' - ■ ■ ^^.,>'-i^. - J^

^ Now this ought to be done apart from my Scheme altogether. \^The
rich corporations which have the charge of the affairs of this^great
City, and the millionaires, who would never have amassed ;,,their
fortunes but by the assistance of the masses, ought to.9ay it shall . be
done. .: Suppose the Railway Companies refused to lend the great
highways of which they have become the monopolists for such v an
undertaking without a subvention, then the necessary ^subvention
should be forthcoming.';; If it could be made possible for the joyless
toilers to come out of the sweater's den, or the stifling factory ; if the
seamstress could leave her needle, and the mother get away from the
weary round of babydom and household drudgery for a day now and
then, to the cooling, invigorating, heart-stirring influences of the sea,'
it should be done, even if it did cost a few paltry thousands. Let the
men and women who spend a little fortune every year in Continental
?.ours, Alpine climbings, yacht excursions, and many another form of
luxurious wanderings, come forward and say that it shall be possible
for these crowds of their less fortunate brethren to have the oppor«
mnity of spending one day at least iji the year by the sea.

/ CHAPTER VIL

CAN IT BE DONE,' AND HOWJ ' -

Section i.—THE CREDENTIALS OF THE SALVATION ARMY.

Can this great work be done?.l I believe it can. And I believe
that it can be done by the Salvation Army, because it^has ready
to hand an organisation of men and ^ women, numerous enough
and' zealous enough . to .Trapple with, the enormous undertaking.
The work" may. prove ueyond our powers. But this is not so
manifest as. to preclude us from wishing to make the attempt.
15^at in itself is a qualification which is shared by no other
organisation — at present. , If we can do it we have the field entirely
to ourselves. ... The wealthy churches show no inclination to com-
pete for the onerous privilege of making the experiment in this defi-
nite* and practical form. ..Whether we have the power or not, we
have, at least, the will, the ambition to do this great thing for the
sake of our brethren, and therein lies our first credential for being
entrusted with the enterprise.

The second credential is the fact that, while using all material
means, our. reliance is on the co-working power of God. We
keep' our. powder dry, but we trust in Jehovah. We go not
forth in our own strength to this battle, our dependence is
upon Him who can influence the heart of man. There is
no doubt "that the most satisfactory method of raising a man
must be to effect such a change in his views and feelings that he
shall voluntarily abandon his evil ways, give himself to industry and
goodness in the midst of the very temptations and companionships
that before le J him astray, and live a Christian life, an example in
himself of what can be done by the power of God in the very face
of the most impossible circumstances.

I r

242

THE CREDENTIALS OF THE SALVATION'ARMY:

■ !

i' !

But herein lies the great difficulty again and again referred to, men
have not that force of character which will constrain them to avail
[themselves of the methods of deliverance. Now our Scheme is
based on the necessity of helping such.

Our third credential is the fact that we hatve already out of
practically nothing achieved so great a measure of success that we
think we may reasonably be entrusted with this further duty. ' The
ordinary operati ;is of the Army have already effected most wonder-
ful changes in tht conditions of the poorest and worst. Multitudes
of slaves of vice in every form have been delivered not only from
these habits, but from the destitution and misery which they ever
produce. Instances have been given. Any number more can be
produced. Our experience, wkich has been almost world-wide, has ever
shown that not only docs the criminal become honest, the drunkard
sober, the harlot chaste, but that poverty of the most abject and
helpless type vanishes away.

Our fourth credential is that our Organisation alone of England's
religious bodies is founded upon the principle of implicit obedience.

For Discipline I can answer. The Salvation Army, largely
recruited from among the poorest of the poor, is often reproached by
its enemies on account of the severity of its rule. It is the only
religious body founded in our time that is based upon the principle
of voluntary subjection to an absolute authority. No one is bound
to remain in the Army a day longer than he pleases. While he
remains there he is bound by the conditions of the Service. The
first condition of that Service is implicit, unquestioning obedience.
The Salvationist is taught to obey as is the soldier on the field of
battle:-

From the time when the Salvation Army began to acquire strength
and to grow from the grain of mustard seed until now, when its
branches overshadow the whole earth, we have been constantly
warned against the evils which this autocratic system would entail.
Especially were we told Ihat in a democratic age the people would
never stand the- establishment : of what was described as a spiriua!
despotism. 'It was contrary "lo the spirit of the times, it would be a
stone of stumbling and a rock of offence to the masses to whom we
ap{>eal, and so forth and so forth.

But what has been the answer? off Accomplished fac^s, to; 'ttiese
predictions of theorists ? -' Despite the alleged unpopularitjy^ of our
aisc|jj^in<yjp^rhap^ because cf' th£ rjgour of^^iniIitarMMthQri!^y;ypi.ijj

srred to, men
hem to avail
' Scheme is

sady out of
ess that we
duty. ' The
ost wonder-
Multitudes
t only from
1 they ever
lore can be
ide, has ever
le drunkard
abject and

' England's
>bedience.
ly, largely
roached by
s the only
e principle
- is bound
While he
^^ice. The
obedience,
he field of

•e strength
, when its
constantly
uld entail,
pie would
a spiriual
/ould be a
whonj we

: tor-^!ieGe
itj'o^tur

TEN THOUSAND OFFICERS.

243

which we have insisted, the Salvation Army has grown from year to
year with a rapidity to which nothing in modern Christendom
affords any paralle'. It is only twenty-five years since it was born.
It is now the largest Home and Foreign Missionary Society in the
J^'rotestant world. We have nearly 10,000 officers under our orders,
a number increasing every day, every one of whom has taken service
on Rie express condition that he or she will obey without questioning
or gainsaying the orders from Headquarters. Of these, 4,600 are
in Qreal Britain. The greatest number outside these islands, in
any one country, are in the Amcri(;an Republic, where we have l,Ol8
officers, and democratic Australia, where we have 800.

Nor is the submission to our discipline a mere paper loyalty.
These officers are in the field, constantly exposed to privation and
ill-treatment of all kinds. A telegram from me will send any of
them to the uttermost parts of the earth, will transfer them from
the Slums of London to San Francisco, or despatch them to assist
in opening missions in Holland, Zululand, Sweden, or South
America. So far from resenting the exercise of authority, the
Salvation Army rejoices to recognise it as one great secret of
its success, a pillar of strength upon which all its soldiers can
rely, a principle which stamps it as being different from all other
religious organisations founded in our day.

With ten thousand officers, trained to obey, and "trained equally
to command, I do not feel that the organisation even of the dis-
or ;anised, sweated, hopeless, drink-sodden denizens of darkest
England is impossible. It is possible, been ic it has already been
accomplished in the case of thousandi. who, .- : )re they were saved,
were even such as those whose evil lot we are now attempting
to deal with.

Our.-, fifth * credential is the extent and universality of the
Army. 'What a mighty agency for .working out the Scheme is
found in , the Army in this respect! This will be apparent v hen
we consider that it has already stretched itself - through over
thirty diffiprent Countries and Colonies, with a permanent location in
somethings like 4,000 different places, that it has eith&r soldiers
or frieads suffKi'Ofatly in sympath}' with it to render assistancr »
almoflt every coqsiderable population in the civilised world, and
in mijch, of .t|^;Utv:iMi.lise4i, that it has nearly ,io^QOO sepa^^d
oSScerft whose- %^JiTAgi atod l«ibur», and hi«tory qitelify them to
become its enthusiastic and earnest co-workers. In fact, our

I i

l'' I

244'

.THE

CREDENTIALS OF THE SALVATION ARMY.

whole people will hail it as the missing link in the great Scheme
for the regeneration of mankind, enabling them to act out those
impulses of their hearts which are ever prompting them to do
good to the bodies as well as to the souls of men.

Take the meetings. With few exceptions, every one of these four
thousand centres has a Hall in which, on every evening in the week
and from early morning until nearly midnight on ' every Sabbath,
services are being held ; that nv^arly every service held indoors is pre-
ceded by one out of doors, the special purport of every one being
the saving of these wretched crowds. Indeed, when this Scheme is
perfected and fairly at work, every meeting and every procession will
be looked upon as an advertisement of the earthly as well as the
heavenly conditions of happiness. And every Barracks and Officer's
quarters will become a centre where poor sinful suffering men and
women may find sympathy, counsel, and practical assistance in every
sorrow that can possibly come upon them, an'^ every Officer
throughout our ranks in every quarter of the globe will become
a co-worker.

See how useful our people will be in the gathering in of this class.
They are in touch with them. ; They live in the same street, work
in the same shops and factories, and come in contact with them at
every turn and corner of life. If they don't live amongst them, they
formerly did. They know where to find them ; they are their old
chums, pot-house companions, and pals in crime and mischief This
class is the perpetual difficulty of a Salvationist's life. He
feels that there is no help for them in the conditions in n^iich
they are at present found. They are so hopelessly weak, and their
temptations are so terribly strong, that they go down before them.
The Salvationist feels this when he attacks them in the tap-rooms,
in the low lodging houses, or in their own desolate homes. Hence,
with many, the Crusader has lost all heart. He has tried them so
often. But this Scheme of taking them right a-vay from their old
h^iunts and temptations will put new life into him and he will gather
up the poor social wrecks wholesale, pass them along, and then go
and hunt for more.

Then see how useful this army of Officers and Soldiers will be for
the regeneration of this festering mass of vice and crime when it is/'
so to speak, in our possession.

AH the thousands of drunkards, and harlots, &iid blasphemers, and
idlers have to be, made over again, to be renewed in the spirit of their

'f\

SET A ROGUE TO CATCH A ROGUE/

ZA%i

Scheme
)ut those
m to do

hese four
the week
Sabbath;
rs is pre-
ne being
cheme is
ision will
!1 as the
Officer's
men and
in every
Officer
become

lis class.

et, work

them at

;m, they

heir old

'. - This

wiiich

nid their

them.

-rooms,

Hence,

iem so

leir old

gather

hen go

t _. ■ . ■ - ■-_,

minds, thai is — made good. What a host of moral workers will be re-^

quired to accomplish such a gigantic transformation. In the Army we^

have a few thousands ready, anyway we have as many as can be

used at the outset, and the Scheme itself will go on manufacturing

more. ■ Look at the qualifications of these warriors for the work !

They have been trained themselves, brought into line anH are
examples of the characters we want to produce. , ,

They understand their pupils — having been dug out of the same
pit. Set a rogue to catch a rogue, they say, that is, we suppose,
a reformed rogue. Anyway, it is so with us. These rough-and-
ready warriors will work shoulder to shoilder with them in the
same manual employment. ". They will engagv^ in the task for love.
This is a substant >! part of their religion, the moving instinct of
the new heavenly nature that has come upon them. They want
to spend their lives in doing good. Here will be an opportunity.

Then see how useful these Soldiers will be for disvtribution I Every
Salvation Officer and Soldier in every one of these 4,000 centres,
scattered through these thirty odd countries and colonies, vrith all
their correspondents and friends and comrades living elsewhere, will
be ever on the watch-tower looking out for homes and employments
where these rescued men and women can be fixed up to advantage,
nursed into moral vigour, picked up again on stumbling, and watched
over generally until able to travel the rough and slippery paths of
life alone. -

1 am. therefore, not without warrant for my confidence in the
possibility of doing great things, if the problem so long deemed
hopeless be approached with intelligence and determination on a
scale corresponding to the magnitude of the evil with which we
have to co{'€.

- 1' ■

-'V

be for
n It 18/

r8,and
)f their

1 I

J "I

i 1

Sections.— HOW MUCH WILL IT COST?.

A considerable amount of money will be required to fairly launch
this Scheme, and some income may be necessary to sustain it for a
season, but, once fairly afloat, we think there is good reason to
believe that in all its branches it will be self-supporting, unless its
area of operation is largely extended, on which we fully rely. Of
course, the cost of the effort must depend very much upon its magni-
tude. If anything is to be done commensurate with the extent of
the evil, it will necessarily require a proportionate outlay. If it is
only the drainage of a garden that is undertaken, a few pounds will
meet the cost, but if it is a great dismal swamp of many miles in
area, harbouring all manner of vermin, and breeding all kinds of
deadly malaria, that has to be reclaimed and cultivated, a very
diiferent sum will not only be found necessary, but be deemed an
economic investment.

Seeing that the country pays out something like Ten Millions per
annum in Poor Law and Charitable Relief without securing any real
abatement of the evil, I cannot doubt that the public will hasten to
supply one-tenth of that sum. If you reckon that of the submerged
tenth we have one million to deal with, this will only be one pound
per head for each of those whom it is sought to benefit, or say

ONE MILLION STERLING

to give the present Scheme a fair chance of getting into practical
operation;- .

According to the amount furnished, must necessarily be the extent
of our operations. ^'^We. have carefully calculated that with one
hundred thousand pounds the scheme can be successfully set in
motion, and that it can be kept going on an annual income of
;^30,Q00 which is about three and a-quarter per cent, on the balance
of th«; miUion sterling, for which I ask as an earnest that the public
intend, to put its hand to ' this business with serious resolution ;
^jid our judgment is* <base4^ not on any mene imaginings, but upon
fte aetiNir result of ^ 'e^agxeEunentB alroady made. StiU' it mud!t be
FeMcniberttd that so vaet and desirable an end cannot be even
practicallyMContemplated without a proportionate fi.nancial outlay.

Supposing, however,vby the subscription of this amount the under-
.taking isfairl^ set afloaC OChs, ^u$sti.oja. maxhfi.aakfid4^-^ASihatiui:hfii:

FINANCING THE CITY COLONY.'

24r

» fairly launch
Jstain it for sa
3od reason to
ng, unless its
ully rely. Of
on its magni-
the extent of
tlay. Ifit is
r pounds will
lany miles in
all kinds of
ated, a very
i deemed an

Millions per
ing any real
ill hasten to
: submerged
one pound
or say

to practical

the extent
with one
illy set in
income of
he balance
the public
esolution ;
but upon
itmu^te
fae even
tlay.

le under-
atiiuthfic

funds will be required for its efficient maintenance ? " This question
we proceed to answer. Let us look at the three Colonies apart, and
then at some of the circumstances which apply to the whole. ,,To
begin with, there is '

THE FINANCIAL ASPECT OF THE CITY COLONY.

Here there will be, of course, a considerable outlay required for
the purchasing and fitting up of property, the acquisition of machinery,
furniture, tools, and the necessary plant for carrying forward all these
varied operations. These once acquired, no further outlay will be
needed except for the necessary reparations.

The Homes for the Destitute will be nearly, it not quite, self-
austaining. The Superior Homes for both Single and Married
people will not only pay Aar themselves, but return some interest
on the amount invested, which would be devoted to the futherance
of other parts of the Scheme.

The Refuges for Fallen Girls would require considerable funds
to keep them going. But the public has never been slow to
practically express its sympathy with this class of work

The Criminal Homes and Prison Gate Operaticii-. would require
continued help, but not a very great deal. Then, the work in the
Slums is somewhat expensive. The eighty young women at
present engaged in it cost on an average I2s. per week each for
personal maintenance, inclusive of clothes and other little matters,
and there are expenses for Halls and some little relief which
cannot in anyway be avoided, bringing our present annual Slum
outlay to over ;^4,ooo. But the poor people amongst whom they
work, notwithstanding their extreme poverty, are already contributing
over ;Ci,OQO per annum towards this amount, which income will
increase. -Still as by this Scheme we propose to add at once a
hundred to the number already engaged, money will be required
to keep this department going.

The Inebriate Home, I calculate, will maintain itself. All its
innji^s will have to engage in some kind of remunerative labour,, and
we calculate, in addition, upon receiving money with a con-
M^fejeab^e^ number of those availing themselves of its benefits.
But to practjeajly assist the half-million slaves of the cup we
must have money not only tojaunch out but to keep our operations
going.

The Food 'Pepdts;^ once fitted- up, pay thi^ir own working; cxpensesr

iii

•J
■ » '

248

HOW MUCH WILL; IT-'^COST ?

The Emigration, Advice, and Inquiry Bureaux must maihtain
themselves or nearly so.

The Labour Shops, AntiTSweating, and other simifarjopcrations
will without question require money to make ends meet.

But on the whole, a very small sum of money, in proportion to the
immense amount of work done, will enable us to accomplish. £L< vast'
deal of good.

THE FARM COLONY FROM A FINANCIAL' POINT OF V1EW.^

. ■■ . - . . ■- ■ \,

Let us now turn to the Farm Colony, and consider it from a
monetary standpoint. Here also a certain amount of money will
have to be expended at the outset ; some of the chief items of which
will be the purchase of land, the erection of buildings, the supply
of stock, and the production of first crops. „ ; There is an abundance
of land in the market, at the present time, at very low prices.

It is rather important for the initial experiment ' that all estate
should be obtained not too far from London, with land suitable for
immediate cultivation. Such an estate would beyond question be
expensive. After a time, I have no doubt, we shall be able to deal
with land of almost any quality (and that in almost any part of the
couiitry), in consequence of the superabundance of labour we shall
possess. There is no question if the scheme goes forward, but
that estates will be required in connection with all our large towns
and cities. I am not without hope that a sufficient quantity of
land will be given, or, in any way, sold to us on "^ry favourable
terms.

When acquired and stocked, it is calculated that this land, if culti-
vated by spade husbandry, will support at least two persons per
acre. The ordinary reckoning of those who have had . experience
with allotments gives five persons to three acres. But, even sup-
posing that this calculation is a little too sanguine, we. can still
reckon a farm of 500 acres supporrine. without any outside assist-^
ance, say, 750 persons. But, in this Scheme, we should have many!
advantages not possessed by the simple peasant, such as-thosei
resulting from combination, market gardening, and the otheri^formsj
of cultivation already referred to, and thus we should wantjo place'
two or three times this number on that quantity of land.f

By a combination of City and Town Colonies, there will? BeTaJ
market for at least a large portion of the products. ;..,At the rate , of
our^jHTeseDtconsumptiop in.the London Food Depots ' ai»L.Homec3

;" t

THE FINANCIAL ASPECT OF THE FARM.

249

nust maihtain

side assist-'^

for the Destitute alone, at least 50 acres would be required for
potatoes alone, and every additional Colonist would be an additicnal
consumer.

There will be no rent to pay, as it is proposed to buy the land right
out. In the event of a great rush being made for the allotments
spoken of, further land might be rented, with option, of purchase.

Of course, the continuous change of labourers would tell against
the profitableness of the undertaking. But this would be oroportior ally
beneficial to the country, seeing that everyone who passes through
the institution with credit makes one less in the helpless crowd.

The rent of Cottages and Allotments would constitute a small
return, and at least pay interest on the money invested in them.

The labour spent upon the Colony would be constantly in-
creasing . its monev value. Cottages would be built, orchards
planted, land enriched, factories run up, warehouses erected, while
other improvements would be continually going forward. All the
labour and a large part of the material would be provided* by the
Colonists themselves. %

It may be suggested that the workers would have to be main-
tained during the progress of these erections and manufactures, the
cost of which would in itself amount to a considerable sum. True,
and for this the first outlay would be required. But after this every
cottage erected, every road made, in short every structure and im-
provement, would be a means of carrying forward the regenerating
process, and in many cases it is expected will become a source of
income. - .

As the Scheme progresses, it is not irrational to expect that
Government, or some of the varied Local Authorities, will assist
in the working out of a plan which, in so , marked a manner,
will relieve the rates and taxes of the country.

The salaries of Officers would be in keeping with those given
in the Salvation Army, which are very low.l

No wages would" be paid to Colonists, as has been described,
beyond pocket money and a- trifle for extra service.

Although no permanent invaUd would be knowinr«ly. taken into
the Colonies, it is fair id assume that there will be a certain number,'
and also a considerable residuum of naturally indolent, half-witted
peofAe, mcapable of improvement, left upon our hands,';^iStill^;it is
thought that with reformed habits, variety of '"^mplcfymeiit;^ and
Itf efttjjpycrsii^htf. such may J >c,ma de.lo^CitmJhsJRia^^

I.;.

I i

> i

250

HOW MUCH WILL IT COST 7

at least, especially when it is borne in mind that unless they work,
so far as they have ability/ they cannot remain * in the Colony.

If the Household Salvage Scheme which has been explained in
Chapter II. proves the success we anticipate, there can be no question
that great financial assistance will be rendered by it to the -entire
scheme when once the whole thing has been brought into.work-
ingi^rder.^

^THE FINANCIAL ASPECT OF THE COLONY OVER-SEA.

Let us now turn to the Colony Over-Sea, and regard it also from
the financial standpoint. Here we must occupy ourselves chiefly
.with the preliminary outlay, as we could not for a moment contem-
plate having to find money to assist it when once fairly established.
[The initial expense will, no doubt, be somewhat heavy, but not beyond
a reasonable amount.

.The land required would probably be given, whether we go to
iAfrica, Canada, or elsewhere ; , anyway, it would be acquired on
such easy terms as -would be a near approach to a gift.

A considerable ' sum would certainly be necessary for effecting
the first settlements, ^ There would be temporary buildings to^erect,
land to break up. and crop ; stock, farm implements, and furniture
to purchase,.\and/otherr similar : expenses. - But . this ; would not be
undertaken on ;(aylarge scale, -as we should rely, to some , extent, on
thet successive '■ batches of;; Colonists ;• more ' or less ^ providing for
;themselves,v,and iin'this respect- working out 4 their own salvation.

JThe amount advanced for passages,"outf.t money, and settlement
iwould be repaid by.instalments by the Colonists, which would in turn
serve to pay the cost ofv^ conveying others , to the same destination.

Passage;:and outfit money would, no doubt, : continue to b^
difficulty. ;^8 per head, say to Africa-^;^5 paissage money/'aijd £i
^ the journey across the country — is a large sum when a considerable
Dumtier are involved ; and I am afraid no Colony would be reached
at?|av much lower rate. But I ani 'not without hope that ' the
Government might assist us in this direction.^

Taking np the entire question, that is of the three Colonies, we
are satisfied that the sum named will suffice to set to work an
agency which V ill probably rescue from lives of degradation and
i^njprality an immense number of people, and that an income of some-
thing like ;^30,000 will keep it afloat. But supposing that a much
larger amount should. be.. req^uirediJ^^erAtions greatly in advance

-■ I

A MILLION STERLING I

251

of those here spoken of, which we think exceedingly probable, it is not
unreasonable to expect that it will be forthcoming, seeing that caring
for the poor is not only a duty of universal obligation, a root
principle of all religion, but an instinct of humanity not likely to
be abolished in our time. We are not opposed to charity as such,
but to the mode of its administration, which, instead of permanently
relieving, only demoralises and plunges the recipients lower in the
mire, and so defeats its own purpose.

•■ What I " I think I hear some say, " a million sterling ! how can
any man out of Bedlam dream of raising such a sum?" Stop a
little ! A million may be a great deal to pay for a diamond or a
palace, but it is a mere trifle compared with the sums which Britain
lavishes whenever Britons are in need of deliverance if they happen
to be imprisoned abroad. The King of Ashantee had captive some
British subjects — not even of English birth — in 1869. . John Bull
despatched General Wolseley with the pick of the British army, who
smashed Koffee Kalkallee, liberated the captives, and burnt Coomassie,
and never winced when the bill came in for ;^7 50,000. But that was
a mere trifle. When King Theodore, of Abyssinia, made captives of
a couple of British representatives. Lord Napier was despatched to
rescue. He marched his army to Magdala, brought back the prisoners,
and left King Theodore dead. The cost of that expedition was over
nine millions sterling. The Egyptian Campaign, that smashed
Arabi, cost nearly five millions. The rush to Khartoum, that arrived
too late to rescue General Gordon, cost at least as much. The
Afghan war cost twenty-one millions sterling. Who dares then to
say that Britain cannot provide a million sterling to rescue, not one
or two captives, but a million, whose lot is quite as doleful as that of
the prisoners of savage kings, but who are to be found, not in the
land of the Soudan, or in the swamps of Ashantee, or in the Moun-
tains of the Moon, but here at our very doors ? ' Don't talk to
me about the impossibility of raising the million. - Nothing is
impossible when Britain is in earnest. All talk of impossibility only
means that you don't believe that the nation cares to enter upon a
serious campaign against the enemy at our gates. When John Bull
goes to the wars he does not count the cost. And who dare deny
that the time has fully come for a declaration of war against the
Social Evils lyhicb seem to shut out God from this oiu: vforld.?

'j.Vi'

r Section 3.--SOME ADVANTAGES STATED.

This Scheme takes into its embrace aii kinas and classes of men
who may be in destitute circumstances, irrespective of their character
or conduct, and charges itself with supplying at once their
temporal needs ; and then aims at placing them in a permAnent
position of comparative comfort, the only stipulation mad6 being a
willingness to work and to conform to discipline on the part of
those receiving its benefit.

While at the commencement, we must impose some limits with
respect to age and sickness, we hope, when fairly at work, to be
able to dispense with even these restrictions, and to receive any
unfortunate individual who has only his misery to recommend him
and an honest desire to get out of it.

It will be seen that, in this respect, the Scheme stands head and
shoulders above any plan that has ever been mooted before, seeing
that nearly all the other charitable and remedial proposals more or
less confess their utter inability to benefit any but what they term
the " decent " working man.

This Scheme seeks out by all manner of agencies, marvellously
adapted for the task, the clcsses whose welfare it contemplates,
and, by varied measures and motives adapted to their circum-
stances,", compels them tp accept its benefits.

Our '.Plan contemplates nothing short of revolutionising the
character of those whose faults are the reason for their destitution.
We have » seen that with fully fifty per cent, of these their own
evil conduct is the cause of their wretchedness. ;. To stop .short with
them of .anything less than a real change^of ..heart .will -be to
invite and ensure failure. But this we are confident .of . effecting- —
anywayyiin; the great majority of cases, by reasonings land per-
suasipns,%concerning both earthly and heavenly advantages, by
ilJii&''^ai«er ofiman, and by the powerpf God.

A FRESH

START IN LIFE.

253

By this Scheme any man, no matter how deeply he may have
fallen in self-respect and the esteem of all about him, may re-enter
life afresh, with the prospect of re-establishing his character when
lost, or p)erhaps of establishing a character for the first time, and
so obtaining an introduction to decent employment, and a claim for
admission into Society as a good citizen. While many of this crowd
are absolutely without a decent friend, others will have, on that
higher level of respectability they once occupied, some relative, or
friend, or employer, who occasionally thinks of them, and who, if
or»'y satisfied that a real change has taken place in the prodigal, will
not only be willing, but delighted, to help them once more.

By this Scheme, we believe we shall be able to teach habits of
economy, household management, thrift, and the like. There are
numbers of men who, although suffering the direst pangs of poverty,
know little or nothing about the value of money, or the prudent use of
it; £ud there are hundreds of poor women who do not know what a
decently-managed home is, and who could not make one if they had
the most ample means and tried ever so hard to accomplish it,
having never seen anything but dirt, disorder, and misery in their
domestic history. They could not cook a dinner or prepare a meal
decently if their lives were dependent on it, never having had a
chance of learning how to do it. But by this Scheme we hope to
teach tjiese things.

By . his . Plan, habits of cleanliness will be created, and some
knowledge" of sanitary questions in general will be imparted.

This Scheme changes the circumstances of those whose poverty
is caused by their misfortune.

To begin with, it finds work for the unemployed. This is the
chief need. > The great problem that has for ages been puzzling
the brains of the political economist and philanthropist has been —
" How can we find these people work ? " No matter what other
helps, are discovered, without work there is no real ground for
hope. 4. Charity and all the other ten thousand devices are. only
temporary expedients, altogether insufficient to meet the necessity.
Work, apart from the fact that it is God's method of supplying
the wantsj of man's composite nature, is an essential to ^ his
well-being |; in r every^ way — and on this Plan ^ there ; , is ^i.work;
honourable work — none of your demoralising ". stone-breaking,^
or OAkum-picking business, which tantalises . and insults < poverty.
Evei3^W0rk(BriwilUfe.el that he is not only.„ occupied aforhis^asaon

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554

SOME ADVANTAGES stated;

benefit, but that any advantage reaped over and above that which
he gains himself will serve to lift some other poor wretch oiit
of the gutter.

There would be work within the capacity of all. Every gift
could be employed. For instance, take five persons on the Farm —
a baker, a tailor, a shoemaker, a cook, and an agriculturist. The
baker would make bread for all, the tailor, garments for all, the
shoemaker shoes for all, the cook would cook for all, and the
agriculturist dig for' all. Those who know anything which would
be useful, to the inhabitants of the Colony will be set to do it, and
those who are ignorant of any trade or profe£ fion will be taught one.

This Scheme removes the vicious and criminal classes out of the
snhere of those temptations before which they have ''nvariably fallen
iH the past. Our experience goes to show that when you have, by
Divine grace, or by any consideration of the advantages of a good
life, or tb** disadvantages of a bad one, produced in a man circum-
stanced as those whom we have been describing, the resolution to
turn over a new leaf, the temptations and difficulties he has to
encou..ter will ordinarily master him, and undo all that has been
done, if he still continues to be surrounded by old companions and
allurciiients to sin

Now, look at the force of the temptations this class has to fight
against. What is it that leads people to do wrong — people of all
classes, rich as well as poor? Not the desire to sin. They do
not want to sin ; many of them do not know what sin is, but "they
have certain appetites or natural likings, the indulgence of which is
pleasant to them, and when the desire for their unlawful gratification is
aroused, regardless of the claims of God, their own highest interests,
or the well-being of their fellows, they are carried away by them ;
and thus all the good resolutions they have made in the past come
to grief.^ ■ '■

For instance, take the temptation which comes through the natural
appetite, hunger. Here is , a man who has been at a religious
meeting, or received some good advice, or, perhaps, just come out
of prison, with the memories of the hardships he has suffered fresh
upon him, or the advice of the chaplain ringing in his ears. . He
has made up his mind to steal no more, but he has no means
of earning a livelihood. He becomes hungry. What is he to do ?
'a loa*" of bread tempts him, or, more likely, a gold chain which he
ican.>;,turii«jnta JtiOeadj 1^ >mward*struggle^cQinmeDcesH>JheAtriea^tO

■; (;

MINIMISE THE TEMPTATIONS.

1265-

Stick to his bargaii\ but the hunger goes on gnawing within, and
it may be there is a wife and children hungry as well as himself ;
so he yields to the temptation, takes the chain, andjn turn the
policeman takes him.

Now this man does not want to do wrong, and "still less does
he want to go to prison. In a sincere, dreamy .way he 'desires
to be good, and if the path were easier fori himj?. he would
probably walk in it.

Again, there is i the appetite for drink. That ; man has ' no
thought of sinning when he takes his first glass.' Much less
does he waat to get drunk. He may have still a vivid recollec-
tion of the unpleasant consequences that followed his last spree,
but the craving is on him ; the public-house is there handy ; his
companions press him ; he yields, and falls, and, perhaps, falls to
rise no more.

We might amplify, but our Scheme proposes to take the poor
slave ri^ht away from the public-houses, the drink, and the com-
panions that allure him to it, and therefore we think the chances
of reformation in him are far greater. ^

Then think of the great boon this Scheme will be to the
children, bringing them out of the slums, wretched hovels, and
filthy surroundings in which they are being reared for lives of
abomination of every description, into the fields, amongst the green
trees and cottage homes, where they can grow up with a chance
of saving both body and soul.

Think again of the change this Scheme will make for these poor
creatures from the depressing, demoralising surroundings, of the
sightly, filthy quarters in which they are huddled together, to the
pure air and sights and sounds of the country. There is much
talk about the beneficial influence of pictures, music and litera-
ture upon the multitudes. Money, like water, is being poured
forth to supply such abtractions in Museums, People's Palaces,
and the hke, for the edification and amelioration of the social
condition of the masses. But " God made the country, man
made the town," and if we take the people to the pictures of divine
manufacture, that must be the superior plan.

Again, the Scheme is capc^ble of illimitable application. . The

plaister can be made as large as the. wound. The wound is certainly

a very extensive one^and it seems at first sight almost ridiculous for

any private enterprise to attempt dealing with it. Three millions of
9

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256

SOME ADVANTAGES STATED.

people, living in little short of perpetual misery have to be reached
and rescued out of this terrible condition. But it can be done, and
this Scheme will do it, if it is allowed a fair chance. Not all at
once? Truel It will take time, but it will begin to tell on the
festering mass straight away. Within a measurable distance we
ought to be able to take out of this black sea at least a huildred
individuals a week, and there is no reason why this number should
not go on increasing.

An appreciable impression on this gulf of misery would be imme-
diately made, not only for those who are rescued from its dark
waters, but for those who are left behind, *seeing that for every
hundred individuals removed, there is just the additional work
which they performed for those who remain. It might not be much,
but still it would soon count up. Supposing three carpenters are
starving on employment which covered one-third of their time, if
you take two away, the one left will have full employment. But it
will be for the public to fix, by their contributions, the extent of
our operations.

The benefits bestowed by this Scheme will be permanent in dura-
tion. It will be seen that this is no temporary expedient, such as, alas!
nearly every effort hitherto made on behalf of these classes has been.
Relief Works, Soup Kitchens, Enquiries into Character, Emigration
Schemes, of virhich .none will avail themselves, Charity in its
hundred forms, Casual Wards, the Union, and a hundred otb.er
Nostrums may serve for the hour, but they are only at the besti
palliations. But this Scheme, I am bold to say, offers a sub-|
stantial and permanent remedy.

In relieving one section of the community, our plan involves nol
interference with the well-being of any other. (See Chapter VII.|
Section 4, " Objections.")

This Scheme removes the all but insuperable barrier to an in-
dustrious and godly life. It means not only the leading of thcbel
lost multiti"^es out of the " City of Destruction " into the Canaanl
of pic ity, but the lifting of them up to the same level of advantagel
with the more favoured of mankind for securing the salvation ofj
their souls.

Look at the circumstances of hundreds and thousands of thel
classes of whom we are speaking. From the cradle to the grave, nughtl
pot their influence in the direction of Religious Belief be summarisedj
ju one sentence, "Atheism made easy." Let my readers imagine theii

THE PEOPLE MUST BE HELPED.

257

,ve to be reached
'nn be done, and
nee. Not all at
n to tell on the
able distance we
least a huiidred
i number should

would be imme-
:d from its dark
J that for every
additional work
ght not be much,
i carpenters are
of their time, if
iloyment. But it
IS, the extent of

manent in dura-
nt, such as, alas!
classes has been,
icter, Emigration
Charity in its
hundred other^
>nly at the best!
offers a sub-l

an involves nol
:e Chapter VIl]

rrier to an in-
sading of thebel
nto the Canaanl

el of advantage!
he salvation of

to have been a similar lot. Is it not possible that, under such cir-
cumstances, they might have entertained some serious doubts as
to the existence of a benevolent God who would thus allow His
creatures to stai've, or that they would have been so preoccupied with
their temporal miseries as to have no heart for any concern abouv
the .lext life ?

Taice a man, hungry and cold, who does not know where his
next meal is coming from ; nay, Who thinks it problematical whether
it will come at all. We know his thoughts will be taken up entirely
with the bread he needs for his body What he wants is a dinner.
The interests of his soul must wait.

Take a woman with a starving family, who knows that as soon
as Monday comes round the ^ rent must be paid, or else she and
her children must go into the street, and her little belongings be
impounded. At the present moment she isiPwithout it. Are not
her thoughts likely to wander in that direction if she slips into a
Church or Mission Hall, or Salvation Army Barracks ?

I have had some experience on thij subject, and hive been
making observations with respect to it ever since the day I made
my first attempt to reach these starving, hungry, crowds — just
over forty-five s^ years ago — and I am quite satisfied that these
multitudes will not be saved in their present circumstances. All
the Clergymen, Home Missionaries, Tract Distributors, Sick
Visitors, and everyone else who care about the Salvation of the
poor, may make up their minds as to that. If these people are
to believe ' in Jesus Christ, . become tiie Servants of God, and
escape the miseries of the wrath to come, they must be helped
out of their present social miseries. They m^ist be put into a
position in which they can work and eat, and have a decent room
to live and sleep in, and see something before them besides a
long, weary, monotonous, grinding round of. toil, and anxious care
to keep themselves and those they love barely alive, with nothing
at the further end but the Hospital, the Union, or the Madhouse. If
Christian Workers and Philanthropists will join hands to effect this
change it will be accomplished, and the people will rise up and bless
them, and be saved; if they will not, the people will curse them
and perish.

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Section 4.— SOME OBJECTIONS MET. '

Objections must be expected. They are a necessity with regard
to any Scheme that has not yet been reduced to practice, and
simply signify foreseen difficulties in the working of it. We freely
admit that there are abundance of difficulties in the way of work-
ing out the plan smoothly and successfully that has been laid
down. But many of these we imagine- will vanish Vii'hen we come
to close quarters, and the remainder will be surmounted by
courage and patience. Should, however, this plan prove the
success we predict, it must eventually revolutionise the condition
of the starving sections of Society, not only in this great metro-
polis, but throughout the whole range of civilisation. It must
therefore be worthy not only of a careful consideration but of per-
severing trial.

Some of these difficulties at first sight appear rather serious.
Let us look at them.

'Objection I. — // is suggested that the class of people for whose
benefit the Scheme is designed would not avail themselves of it.

When the feast was prepared and the invitation had gone forth,
it is said that the starving multitudes would not come ; that though
labour was offered them in the City, or prepared for them on the
Faim, they would prefer to rot in their present miseries rather
than avail themselves of the benefit provided.

In order to gather the opinions of those most concerned, we
consulted one evening, by a Census in our London Shelters,
two hundred and fifty men out of work, and all suffering severely
in consequence. • We furnished a set of questions, and obtained
answers from the whole. Now, it must be borne in mind that these
men were under no obligation whatever to mai<e any reply to our
enquiries, much less to answer them favourably to our , plan,JroJf
which they knew next to nothing.

:her serious.

iWILLINGNEBSITOTWORK.-;

259x

^^^ThcscTtwb'hunclred and ' fifty men were mostly in the. prime "of
life,*^ the greater portion of them being > skilled ' Sv6rkiViert ; *' an
^examination of the return papers showine that out of the chtire
humbei'. two hundred and seven were able to work at their trades
had they the opportunity. >

The number of trades "naturally varied.'; There were some ^f all
kinds : Engineers, Custom House Officers, Schoolmasters, Watch'
and Clockmakers, Sailors, and men of the different branches of!
the Building trade; also a number of men who have been in
business oh their own account.

The ■ average amount of wages earned by the skilled mechanics
when regularly employed was 33s. per week : the money earned by
the unskilled averaged 22s. per week.

They could not be accounted lazy, as most of them, when not
employed at their own trade or occupation, had proved their willing-
ness to work by getting jobs at anything that turned up. 0:i looking
over the list we sav/ that one who had been a Custom House Officer
had recently acted as Carpenter's Labourer; a Type-founder hnd
been glad to work at Chimney Sweeping ; the Schoolmaster, able to
f;peak five languages, who iv. his prosperous days had owned a farm,
was glad to do odd jobs as a Bricklayer's Labourer ; a Gentleman's
Valet, wiio once earned £$ a week, had come so lov/ down in the
world that he was glad to act as Sandwich man for the magnificent
Gum of fourteenpence a day, and that, only as an occasional affair.
In the Hit v/as a dyer and cleaner, married, with a wife and nine
children, \yho had been able to earn 40s. a week, but had done no
regular \v/ork for three years out of the last ten.

Wc put the following question to the entire number : — " If you
were ">m on a farm, and set to work at anything you could do,
and supplied with food, lodging, and clothing, with a view to
gettii ; you on to your feec, would you be willing to do all you
could?"

r^ response, th-' whole 250 replied in the affirmative, with one
exception, and on enquiry we elicited that, being a sailor, the
man was afraid he would not know how to do the work

On being interrogated as to their willingness to grapple with the
hard labour on the land, they said : " Why should we not ? Look
at us. Can any plight be more miserable tha.: ours ?"

Why not, inf ;eed ? A glance at them would certainly make it
impodiribb for any thoughtful [x:rson to assign a rational reason

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260

SOME OBJECTIONS MET.'

for their refusal — in rags, swarming with vermin, hungry, many of
them living on scraps of food, begged or earned in the most
haphazard fashion, without sufficient clothing to cover their > poor
gaunt limbs, most of them without a shirt. They had to start out
the next morning, uncertain which way to turn to earn a crust for
dinner, or the fourpence necessary to supply them again with the
humble shelter they had enjoyed that night. The idea of their
r<;fusing employment which would supply abundantly the necessaries
of life, and give the prospect of becoming, in process of time, the owner
of a home, with its comforts and companionships, is beyond concep-
tion. There is not much question that this class will not only accept
the Scheme we want to set before them, but gratefully do all in their
power to make it a success.
II. — Too many would come.

This would be very probable. There would certainly be too many
apply. But we should be under no obligation to take more than
was convenient. The larger the number of applications the wider
the field for selection, and the greater the necessity for the enlargement
of our operations.

III. — They would run away.

/It is further objected that if they did come, the monotony of the
life, the strangeness of the work, together with the absence of the
excitements and amusements with which they had been entertained in
the cities and towns, would render their existence unbearable. Even
When left to the streets, there is an amount of life and action in the
city which is very attractive. Doubtless some would run away,
but I don't think this would be a large proportion. The change
would be so great, and so palpably advantageous, that I think
they would find in it ample compensation for the deprivation of
any little pleasureable excitement they had, left, behind them in
the city. For instance, there \v«ald be —
A SufBciency of Food.

The friendliness and sympathy of their new assocsates. ' There would be
abundance of companions of similar tastes and circumstances — not
all pious. \K would be quite another matter to going single-handed
on to a farm, or into a melancholy family.
Then there would be the prospect of doing well for themselves in the
future, together with all the religious life, meetings, musics and
freedom of the Salvation Army.
But:^What . says our experiencej^' ^

> \

ymany of
the most
heir V poor
I start out
L crust for
t with the
I of their
ecessaries
the owner
d concep-
nly accept
ill in their

too many
nore than
the wider
largement

ly of the
ce of the
tained in
Even
>n in the
away,
change
I think
ation of
them in

would be
ces — not
handed

:s in the
sic^ and

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THEY WOULD RUN AWAY?

261

If tiicre be one class which is the despair of the social reformer, it
is that which is variously described, but which we may term the lost
women of our streets. From the point of view of the industrial
organiser, they suffer from almost every fault that human material
can possess. They are, with some exceptions, untrained to labour,
demoralised by a life of debauchery, accustomed to the wildest
license, emancipated from all discipline but that of starvation, given
to drink, and, for the most part, impaired in 4tcalth. If, therefore,
any considerable number of this class can be shown to be ready to
submit themselves voluntarily to discipline, to endure deprivation
of drink, and to apply themselves steadily to industry, then example
will go a long way towards proving that even the worst description
of humanity, when intelligently, thoroughly handled, is amenable to
discipline and willing to work. ; In our British Rescue Homes we
receive considerably over a thousand unfortunates every year ; while
all over the world, our annual average is two thousand. The work
has been in progress for three years — long enough to enable us to
test very fully the capacity of the class in question to reform.

With us there is no compulsion. If any girl wishes to remain, she
remains. If she wishes to go, she goes. No one is detained a day
or an hour longer than they choose to stay. Yet our experience
shows that, as a rule, they do not run away. Much more restless
ind thoughtless and given to change, as a class, than men, the
girls do not, in any considerable numbers, desert. The average
of our London Homes^ for the last three years, gives only 14 per
cent, as leaving on therr own account, while for the year 1889
only 5 per cent. And the entire number, who have either left
or been dismissed' during that year, amounts only to 13 per cent,
on the whole.

IV. — They would not work.

Of course, to such as had for year's been leading idle lives,
anything like work and exhaustive labour would be very
trying and wearisome, and a little patience and coaxing might be
required to get them into the way of it. Perhaps some would De
hopelessly beyond salvation in this respect, and, until the time comes,
if it ever does arrive, when the Government will make it a crime
for an abled-bodied man to beg when there is an opportunity for
him to engage in remunerative work, this class will wander abroad
preying upon a generous public. It will, however, only need to be
knowiL- that. any_ man can obtain work. if„ he -wants^it.^ox^those

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262.

SOME OBJECTIONS MET.

■ I

who'haye by their liberality maintained men and women in idle-
ness to* cease doing so. And when- it comes to this pass, that p.
man cannot eat without working, of the two evils he will choose thu:
latter, preferring labour, however unpleasant it may be to his
tastes, to actual starvation.

It must be borne i'n mind that the penalty of certain expulsion,
which all would be given to understand would be strictly enforced
would have a good influence in inducing the' idlest to give work a fair
trial, and once at it I should not despair of conquering the aver-
sion altogether, and eventually being able to transform and pass
these once lazy loafers as real industrious members of Society.

Again, any who have fears on this point may be encouraged
by contrasting the varied and ^ver-changing methods of labour we
should pursue, with the monotonous and uninteresting grind of many
of the ordinary employments of the poor, and the circumstances b}'
which they are surrounded. .

Here, again, we fall back upon our actual experience in reclamation
work; In our Homes for Saving the Lost Women we have no
difficulty of getting them to work. The idleness of this section of
the social strata has been before referred to ; it is not for a moment
denied, and there can be no question, as to its being the cause of
much of their poverty and distress. But from early morn until the
lights are out at night, all is a round of busy, and, to a great extent,
very uninteresting labour ; while the girls have, as a human induce-
ment, only domestic service to look forward to — of "'hich they arc
in no way particularly enamoured — and yet here is no mutiny, no
objection, no unwillingness to work ; in fact they appear well
pleased to be kept continually at it. Here is a report that teaches
the same lesson.

A small Bookbinding Factory is worked in connection with the Rescue Homes
in London. The foldero and stitchers are girls saved from the streets, but who,
for various reasons, were found unsuitable foi domestic service. ^ The Factory
has solved the problem of employment for some of the most difficult cases.
Two of the girls at present employed there are crippled, while one is supporting
herself and two young children.

While learning the work they live in the Rescue Homes, and^e fev/
shillings they are able to earn are paid into the Home funds. As soon^as they
are able to earn 12s. a week, a lodging is foun^for them (with Salvationists, if
possible), and they are placed entirely upon their own resources. The majority
of girls working at this trade in London are living in the family, and 6s., 7s., and
8s. a week make an acceptable addition to the Home income : but our girls w>io

■i;

WOULD THEY HAVE THE PHYSIQUE?

263

It extent,

arc ^«///r()' dependent upon tlieir own earnings must maUc an average wage ot
I2S. a week at least. In order that they may do tliis we are obliged to pay
higher wages than other employers. For instance, we give from 2jd. to 3d. a
thousand more than the trade for binding small pamphlets ; nevertheless, after
the Manager, a married man. is paid, and a man for the superintendence of the
machines, a profit of about ;^5oo has been made, and the work is improving.
They are all ^;i.\(l piecework.

Eighteen women are supporting themselves in this way.at present, and con-
ducting themselves most admirably. One of their number acts as forewoman,
and conducts the Prayer Meeting at 12.30, the Two-minutes' Prayer after meals,
etc. Their continuance in the factory is subject to their good behaviour — both
at home as well as at work. In one instance only have we It ad any trouble at
all, and in this solitary case the girl was so penitent she was forgiven, and has
Hone well ever since. I think that, without exception, they arc Salvation
Soldiers, and will be found at nearly every meeting on the Sabbath, etc. The
binding of Salvation Army publications — "The Deliverer," "All the World,"
the Penny Song Books, etc., almost keep us going. A little outside work for the
end of the months is taken, but we are not able to make any j)rofit generally, it
is so badly paid.

It will be seen that this is a miniature factory, but still it is a
factory, and worked on principles that will admit of illimitable
extension, and may, I think, be justly regarded as an encouragement and
an exemplification of what may be accomplished in endless variations.

V. — Again, it is objected that the class whose benefit we contemplate
would not have physical ability to work on a farm, or in the open air.

How, it is asked, would tailors, clerks, weavers, seamstresses
and the destitute people, born and reared in the slums and poverty-
hovels of the towns and cities, do farm or any other work that has
to do with the land ? The employment in the open air, with
exposure to every kind of weather which accompanies it, would." it
is said, kill them off right away.

We reply, that the division of labour before described would
render it as unnecessary as it would be undesirable and uneco-
nomical, to put many of these people to dig or to plant. Neither
is it any part of our plan to do so. On our Scheme we have
shown how each one would be appointed to that kind of work for
which his previous knowledge and experience and strength best
adapted him.

Moreover, there can be no possible comparison between 1 the
conditions of health enjoyed by men and women .wanderine jabout

i i

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rSOME OBJECTIONS MET:

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homelessj'^sleeping in'^the streets or in 'the fever-haunted lodging-
houses, or Jiving huddled up in a single room, and toiling twelve
and fourteen hours in a sweater's den, andpiving in, comparative
comfort in well-warmed and ventilated houses," situated in the open
country, with abundance of good, healthy food.

Take a man or a woman out into the fresh air, give them proper
exercise, and substantial food. ,. Supply them with a comfortable'
home, cheerful- companions, and a fair prospect of reachin/? a position
of independence in this or some other land, and a complete: renewal
of health and careful increase of vigour will, we expect, be one
of the first great benefits that will ensue.

VI. — // is objected that we should be left with a considerable resiauwn
of half-witted^ helpless people.

Doubtless this would be a real difficulty, and we should have lo
prepare for it. We certainly, at the outset, should have to
guard against too many of this class being left upon - our
hands, although we should not be compelled to keep anyone.
It would, however, be painful to have to send them back to
the dreadful life from which we had resciK ' them. Still,
hcwever, this would not be so ruinous a . isk, looked at
Snancially, as some would imagine. We could, we think, maintain
thsm for 4s. per v/eek, and they would be very weak indeed in
body, and very wanting in mental, strength if they were not able
to earn that amount in some one of the many forms of employment .
which the Colony would open up.

VII. — Again, it will be objected that some efforts of a similar
character have failed. For instance, co-operative enterprises in farm-
ing have not succeeded.

True, but so far as I can ascertain, nothing of the character I
am describing has ever been attempted.V^A large number of
Socialistic communities have been established and come to grief
in the United States, in Germany, and elsewhere, but they have
all, both in principle and practice, strikingly differed from what
we are proposing here. Take one particular alone, the great
bulk of these liocieties have not only been fashioned without any
regard to the principles of Christianity, but, in the vast majority
of instances, have been in direct opposition to them ; and the
only communities based on co-operative principles that have sur-
(Vived the first few months of their existence have been based
)ip(m : Christian truth. If_ not absolute successes,^there , have ^been!

WILL THEY SUBMIT TO DISCIPLINE 7

265

some very remarkable results obtained by efforts partaking some-
what of the nature of the one I am setting forth. (See that of
Ralahine, described in Appendix.)

VIII. — // is further objected that it would be impossible to maintain
order and enforce good discipline amongst this class of people

We are of just the opposite opinion. We think that it would —
nay, we are certain of it, and we speak as those who have had
considerable experience in dealing with the lower classes of
Society. We have already dealt with this difficulty. We may say
further--.

That we ao not propose to commence with a thousand people
in a v/ild, untamed state, either at home or abroad. To the
Colony Over-Sea we should send none but those who have had a
long period of training in this country. The bulk of those sent
to the Provincial Farm would have had some sort of trial in the
different City Establishments. We should only draft 4;them on to
the Estate in small- numbers, as we were prepared to deal with
them, and I am quite satisfied that without the legal methods of
maintaining order that are acted upon so freely in workhouses
and other similar institutions, we should have as perfect obedience
to Law, as great respect for authority, and as strong a spirit of
kindness pervading all ranks throughout the whole of the com-
munity as could be found in any other institution in the land.

It will be borne in mind that our Army system of government
largely prepares us, if it does not qualify us, for this task. Ahyvvay,
it gives us a good start. All our people are trained in habits of
obedience, and all our Officers are educated in the exercise of
authority. The Officers throughout the Colony would be almost
exclusively recruited from the ranks of the Army, and everyone of
them would go to the work, both .theoretically and practically,
familiar with those principles which are the essence of good
discipline.

Then we can argue, and that very forcibly, from the actual
experience we have already had in dealing with this class. Take
our experience in the Army itself. Look at the order of our Soldiers.
Here are men and women, who have no temporal interest whatever
at stake, receiving no remuneration, often sacrificing their earthly
interests by their union with us, and yet see how they fall into line,
and obey orders in the promptest manner, even when such orders
go right.. in. the Xeeth. of. their temppraL int£r.esJts.

liyi

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rjw^m

XAl...K^l

266

SOME OBJECTIONS MET.

m !

"Yes," it will be replied by some, "this is all very excellent
80 far as it relates to those who are altogether of your own way of
thinking. You can command them as you please, and they v/ill
obey, but what proof have you given of your ability to control and
discipline those who are not of your way of thinking ?

" You can do that with your Salvationists because they arc save',
ns you call it. When men are born again you can do anything v/'th
them. But unless you convert all the denizens of Darkest England,
what chance is there that they v/ill be docile to your discipline ? If
they were soundly saved no doubt something might be done. But
they are not saved, soundly or otherwise ; they are lost. VJhrJ.
reason have you for believing that they will be amenable tc
discipline?"

I admit the force of this objection ; b i •! liave an answer, and en
answer which seems to me complete. Discipline, and that of the
most merciless description, is enforced upon multitudes of thece
people even now. Nothing that the most authoritative organisation
of industry could devise in the excess of absolute power, could
for a moment compare with the slavery enforced to-day in the den.s
of the sweater. It is not a choice between liberty and discipline tha'
confronts these unfortunates, but between discipline mercilessly
enforced by starvation and inspired by futile gi'eed, and discipline
accompanied with regular rations and administered solely for their
own benefit. What liberty is there for the tailors who have to sew
for sixteen to twenty hours a day, in a pest-holc, in order to earn
ten shillings a week ? There is no discipline so brutal as that of the
sweater ; there is no slavery so relentless as that from which we
seek to deliver the victims. Compared with their normal condition
of existence, the most rigorous discipline which would be needed
to secure the complete success of any new individual organisation
would be an escape from slavery into freedom.

You may reply, " that it might be so, if people understood their own
interest. But as a matter of fact they do not understand it, and that
they will never have sufficient far-sightedness to appreciate the
advantages that are offered them."

To this I answer, that here also I do not speak from theory.
I lay before you the ascertained results of years of experience.
More than two years ago, moved by the misery and despair
of the unemployed, I opened the Food and Shelter Dep6ts in
London already described. Here are a large number of men

18 THE SCHEME TOO BIG T

y excellent
wn way of
I they v/ill
:ontrol and

arc Sii\ (-".',
yth-'ng v/'tb
St England;
ipline ? If
done. Bui
ost. W1t.1
menablc tc

ver, and z-x
that of the
es of thecti
Drganisaticn
ower, could
in the den.-3
scipline thiJ
mercilessly
jd disciplin
lely for their
have to sew
>rder to earn
IS that of the
n which we
lal condition
1 be needed
organisation

)d their own
1 it, and that
tpreciate the

from theory,
experience,
and despair
• Dep6ts in
ber of men

every night, many of them of the lov/cst type of casuals who
crawl about the streets, a certain proportion criminals, and
about as diflicult a class to manage as I should think could be
ifot together, and while there will be 200 of them in a single
building night after night, from the first opening of the doors in the
evening until the last man has departed in the morning, there shall
scarcely be a word of dissatisfaction ; anyway, nothing in the shape
of angry temper or bad languaije. No policemen are required ;
indeed two or three nights' experience v/ill be sufficient to turn the
regular frequenters of the place of their own free will into Officers
of Order, glad not only to keep the regulations of the place, but to
enforce its discipline upon others.

Again, every Colonist, whether in the City 6r elsewhere, would
know that those who took the interests of the Colony to heart,
were loyal to its authority and principles, and laboured indus-
triously in promoting its interests, would be rewarded accordingly
by promotion to positions of influence and authority, which
would also carry with them temporal advantages, present and
prospective.

But one oi our main hopes would be in the apprehension by the
Colonists of the fact that all our efforts were put forth on their
behalf. Every man and woman on the place would know
that this enterprise was begun and carried on solely for their
benefit, and that of the other members of their class, and that
only their own good behaviour and co-operation would ensure
their reaping a personal share in such benefit. Still our expectations
would be largely based on the creation of a spirit of unselfish
interest in the community.

IX. Again, it is objected that the Scheme is too vast to be attempted by
voluntary enterprise; it ought to be taken up and carried out by
the Government itself.

Perhaps so, but there is no very near pt obability of Government
undertaking it, and we are not quite sure whether such an attempt
would prove a success if it were made. But seeing that neither
Governments, nor Society, nor individuals have stood forward to
undertake what God has made appear to us to be so vitally impor-
tant a work, and as He has given us the willingness, and in many
important senses the ability, we arc prepared, if the financial help
is furnished, to make a determined effort, not only to undertake but
.tofiaymXit forwsytd to. a triumphant success,.

!.:

;■ ;

lir I

!.•■■!

^B^m

268

SOME OBJEpTfONSMVIET.

I i

i!'

!l!

. X.— // is objected thai the classes ive seek to benefit are too
ignorant and depraved for Christian efforif or for effoti of any kind, to
reach, and reform. —

Look at the tramps, the drunkards^ the harlots, the criminals* liow
confirmed they are in their idle and vicious habits. It will \:'i said,
indeed has been already^ said by,?; those with whom I have con-
versed, that I don't know them: which statement cannot, I. think,
be maintained, for if I don't know them,' who does ?

I admit, however, that thousands of this class' are very, far gone
from every sentiment, principle , and practice of r'ght conduct.^
But : I argue that these poor i people cannot the .. much more
unfavourable subjects for the work of regeneration than are many
of the savages and heathen tribes, in the conversion of ^whom
Christians universally believe ; for whom they beg large sums
of money, and to whom they send their best and bravest people.

These poor people are certainly embraced in the Divine plan of
mercy. To their class, the Saviour especially gave His attention when
he was on the earth, and for them He most certainly died on the Cross:

Some of the best examples of Christian faith and practice,* and
some of the most successful workers for the benefit of mankind,-
have sprung from this class, of which we have instances STe-
corded in the Bible, and any number, in the history., of the Church
and of the Salvation Army.

It may be objected that while"' this Scheme, would undoubtedly
assist one class of the community by making steady,Mndustriougi
workmen, it must thereby injui;-e another class by introducing so many
"ew hands into the labour marlcet, already so seriously overstocked. ^

To this we reply that there is certainly an appearance of force in
this/ objection ; but it has, I think, been already answered in the' fore-
going pages. Further, if the increase of workers, which this Scheme
will certainly bring about, was the beginning and the end of -it, it
would certainly present a somewhat serious aspect. But, 'even on
that supposition, I don't see how the skilled worker could leave his
brothers to rot in their present wretchedness, though their rescue
should involve the sharing of a portion of his wages.

(i) But there is no such danger, seeing that the numbe#of extra
hands thrown on the British Labour Market must be lie'cessarily
inconsiderable.

(2) The increased production of food in our Farm and. Colonial/
operations must indirec ^ benefit the working man.'

DRAINING LABOUR MARKETS.

369

(3) The taking out of the labour market of a large number of
individuals who at present have only partial workj* while benefiting
tliem, must of necessity affcrd increased labour to those left behind.

(4) While every poor workless individual made into a wage earner
will of necessity have increased requirements in proportion. For
instance, the drunkard who has had to manage with a few bricks, a
soap box, and a bundle of rags, will want a chair, a table, a bed, and
at least the other necessary adjuncts to a furnished home, however
sparely fitted up it may be.

There is no question but that when our Colonisation Scheme is
fairly afloat it will drain off, not only many of those who are in the
morass, but a large number who are on the verge of it. Nay, even
artisans, earning what are considered good wages, will be drawn by
the desire to improve their circumstances, or 'O raise their children
under more favour ble surroundings, or from suU nobler motives, to
leave the old country. Then it is expected that the agricultural
labourer and the village artisan, who are ever migrating to the great
towns and cities, will give the preference to the Colony Over-Sea,
and so prevent that accumulation of cheap labour which is considered
to interfere so materially with the maintenance of a high wages
standard.

ill

: r ' t

i 1:

■^"''-i,;^ ii,»..i^u-»j»

Section 5.— RECAPITULATION.

I have now passed in review the leading features of the
Scheme, which I put forward as one that is calculated to considerably
contribute to the amelioration of the condition of the lowest
stratum of our Society. It in no way professes to be complete
in all its details. Anyone may at any point lay his finger on
this, that, or the other feature of the Scheme, and show some
void that must be filled in if it is to work with effect. There is
one thing, however, that can be safely said in excuse for the
shortcoming^ of the Scheme, and that is that if you wait until
you get an ideally perfect plan you will have to wait until the
Millennium, and then you will not need it. My suggestions, crude
though they may be, have, nevertholess, one element that will in
time supply all deficiencies. There is life in them, with life there
is the promise and power of adaptation to all the innumerable
and varying circumstances of the class with which we have to
deal. Where there ici life there is infinite power of adjustment.
This is no cast-iron Scheme, forged in a single brain anc! then set
up as a standard to which all must conform. It is a sturdy plant,
which has its roots deep down in the nature and circuiiiotcYOccs Ot
men. Nay, I believe ir. tho very heart of God Himself. li has
already grown much, and will, if duily nurtured and tended, grow
still further, until from it, as from the grain of fuustard-seed in
the parable, there shall spring up a greri tree whose branches
shall overshadow all the eaith.

Once more let me say, I claim no patent rights in any part of this
Scheme. Indeed, I do not know what in it is original and what is not.
Since formulating some of the plans, wnich I had thought were new
under the sun, I have discovered that they have been already tried
in different parts of the world, and that with great promise. It may
be so with others, and in this I rejoice. I plead for no exclusive-^

mmm

HAVE YOU A BETTER PLAN .

2 71

ires of the
considerably

the lowest
36 complete
s finger on
show some
:. There is
use for the

wait until
t until the
tions, crude
that willin
h life there
nnumcrabk
^e have to
adjustment,
inc! then set
turdy piantj
nUcmcxs Ot
)lf. li has
nded, gro'wV
ird-seed in
e branches

part of this
what is not.
t were new
ready tried
e. It may
exclusive-

ness. The question is much too serious for such fooling as
that. Here are millions of our fellovz-creatures perishing
amidst the breakers of the sea of life, dashed to pieces
on sharp rocks, sucked under by eddying whirlpools, suffo-
cated even when they think they have reached land by treachcious
quicksands ; to save them from this imminent, destruction I suggest
that these things should be done. If you have any better plan than
mine for effecting this purpose, in God's name bring it to the light
and get it carried out quickly. If you have not, then lend me a
hand with mine, as I would be only too glad to lend you a hand with
yours if it had in it greater promise of successful action than mine.

In a Scheme for the working- out of social salvation the great, the
only, test that is worth anything is the success with which they
attain the object for which they are devised. An ugly old tub of
a boat that will land a shipwrecked sailer safe on the beach is v/orth
more to him than the finest yacht that ever left a slip-way incapable
of effecting the same object. The superfine votaries of culture may
recoil in disgust from, the rough-and-ready suggestions which I have
made for dealing with the Sunken Tenth, but mere recoiling is no
soh'tion. If the cultured and the respectable and the orthodox
and the established dignitaries and conventionalities of Society
pass by on the other side we cannot follow their examplo..
We may not be priests and Levites, but we can at Us-p^
play the part of the Good Samaritan. The man who f^^jrf
down to Jericho and fell among thieves was
improvident, reckless individual, who ought
better than to go roaming alone through defiles h jnted by ban
v^'hom he even led into temptation by the caielei>3 way in whic'
exposed himself and his goods to their avaricious gaze, it was,
doubt, largely his own fault that he lay there bruised and senseless^
and ready to perish, just as it is largely thp fault of those v;hom we
seek to help that they lie in the helpless plight in which we find
them. But for all that, let us bind up their wounds with such balm
as we can procure, and, setting them on our ass, let us take them to
our Colony, where tliey may have time to recover, and once more set
forth on the journey of life.

And now, having said this much by way of reply to some of my
critics, I will recapitulate the salient features of the Scheme. I laid
down at the beginning cf^! tain points to be kept in view as embodying
those invariable laws or principles of political economy, .without due

probably a ly< ^
to have k

t ii 'J !

Lli::ii!

■*■■'"

272

RECAPITUUATIOM.

regard to which no Scheme can hope for even a chance of success.
Subject to these conditions, I think my Scheme will pass muster. It
is large enough to cope with the evils that will confront us ; it is
practicable, for it is already in course of applicatiovi, and it is capable
of indefinite expansion. But it would be better to pass the whole
Scheme in its more salient features in review once more.

The Scheme will seek to convev benefit to the destitute classes in
various ways altogether apart from their entering the Colonies. Men
and women may be very poor and in very great sorrow, nay, on
the verge of actual starvation, and yet be so circumstanced as to be
unable to enrjol themselves in the Colonial ranks. To these
our cheap Food Depots, our Advice Bureau, Labour Shops, and
other agencies will prove an unspeakable boon, and will be likelj^
by such temporary assistance to help them out of the deep gulf in
which they are struggling. Those wno need permanent assistance
will be passed on to the City Colonj^ and taken directly under our
control. Here they will be employed as before descrijbed. Many
will be sent off to friends ; work will be found for others in the City
or elsewhere, while the great bulk, after reasonable testing as to
their sincerity and willingness to assist in their own salvation, will
be sent on to the Farm Colonies, where the same process of
reformation and training will be continued, and unless employment
is otherwise obtained they will then be 'nassed on to the Over-Sea
Colony.

All in circumstances of destitution, vice, or criminality will receive
casual assistance or be taken into the Colony, on the sole conditions
of their being anxious for deliverance, and willing to work for it,
and to conform to discipline, altogether irrespective of character,
ability, religious opinions, or anything else.

No benefit will be conferred upon any individual except under
extraordinary circumstances, without ,some return being made in
labour. Even where relatives and friends supply" money to the
Colonists, the latter must take their share of work with their
comrades. We shall not have room for a single idler throughout all
uur borders.

^he labour allotted to each individual will be chosen in view of his
past employment or ability. Those who have any knowledge of
agriculture will naturally be put to work on the land ; the shoemaker
will make shoes, the weaver cloth, and so on. And when there is no
knowledge of any handicraft, the aotitude of the individuaLand^th^

^mmmmm

HAND LABOUR.

27i>

f success,
iswcr. It
us ; it is
is capable
the whole

classes in
es. Men
r, nay, on
[ as to be
To these
lops, and
be likelj^
ep gulf in
issistancc
jnder our
1. Many

I the City
ng as to
ition, will
rocess of
ployment
Over-Sea

II receive
onditions
rk for it,
haracter,

)t under
made in
to the
1th their
ghout all

:w of his
ledge of
oemaker
lere is no
anduJhQ

necessities of the hour will suggest the sort of work it would be
most profitable for such an one to learn.

Work of all descriptions will be executed as far as possible by
hand labour. The present rage for machinery has tended to pro-
duce much destitution by supplanting hand labour so exclusively
that the rush has been from the human to the machine. We "ant,
as far as is pr. /- cicable, to travel back from the machine to the
human.

Each member of the Colony would receive food, clothing, lodging,
medicine, and all necessary care in case of sickness.

No wages would be paid, except a trifle by way of encouragement
for good behaviour and industry, or to' those occupying positions of
trust, part of which will be saved in view of exigencies in our Colonial
Bank, and the remainder used for pocuet money.

The whole Scheme of the three Colonies will for all practical
purposes be regarded as one ; hence the training will have in view
the qualification of the Colonists for ultimately earning their
livelihood in the world altogether independently of our assistance,
or, failing this, fit them for taking some permanent work within our
borders either at home or abroad.

Another result of this unity of the Town and Country Colonies
will be the removal of one of the difficulties ever connected with the
disposal of the products of unemployed labour. The food from the
Farm would be consumed by the City, while many of the things
manufactured in the City would be consumed on the Farm,

The continued effort of all concerned in the reformation of these
people will be to inspire and cultivate those habits, the want of
which has been so largely the cause of the destitution and vice of
the past.

Strict discipline, involving careful and continuous oversight,
would be necessary to the maintenance of -order amongst so large
a number of people, many of whom had hitherto lived a wild and
licentious life. Our chief reliance in this respect would be upoh the
spirit of mu -il interest that would prevail.

The entire Colony would probably be divided into sections, each
under the supervision of a sergeant — one of themselves — working
side 'y 3ide with them, yet responsible for the behaviour of all.

TIi<i chief Officers of the Colony would be individuals who had
given themF^lves to the work, not for a livelihood, but from a desire
to be useiul to the suffering puoi*. They would be selected

v.i \ 'J

•wr

1274

RFCAPITUL'ATION.

H|»

at the outset from the Army, and .that on the ground of their
possessing certain capabilities for the^osition, such as kiy^wledge
of the particular kind of work they had to superintend, or their being
good disciplinarians and having the faculty for controlling men and
being themselves influenced by a spirit of love. . Ultimately the
Officers, v/e have no doubt, 'would be, as is the case in all our other
operations, men and women raised up from the Colonists themselves,
and who will consequently, possess some. special qualifications for
dealing with f'cse they have to superintend.

The Colonis -. will be divided into two classes : the 1st, the class
which receives no wages will consist of : —

(a) The new arrivals, whose ability, character, and habits

are as yet unknown.

(d) The less capable in strength, mental calibre, or other

opacity.

appeared ^doubtful. These would remain in ^ this class,t until

sufficiently.. im()roved for advancement, or are pronounced so
Jhopcless as to justify expulsion.
The 2nd class would have a small extra allowance, a part of
which would be given to the workers for private use,!'and a* part
reserved for future contingencies, the payment of travelling expenses,
ere. From this class we should obtain our petty officers, send out
hired labourers, emigrants, etc., etc.

Such is the Scheme as I have conceived it. Intelligently applied,
and resolutely persevered in, I cannot doubt that,, it will produce a
great and salutary chancre in the condition of many of the most
hopeless of our fellow countrymen. Nor is it only our . fellow
countrymen to whom it is capable of application. In its salient
features, with such alterations as are necessary, owing to differences
of climate and of race, it is capable of adoption in every city in the
world, for it is an attempt to restore to the masses of humanity that are
crowded together in cities, the human and natural elements of Jife
which they possessed when they lived in the smaller unit of the
village or the market town. Of the extent of the need there .can be
no question. It is, perhaps, greatest in London, where the masses of
population are denser than those of any other city ; but it exists
equally in the chief centres of population in the new Englands that
have sprung up beyond the sea,' as well as in the larger cities of
Europe. It is, a remarkable tact that .up^tqjhe present moment ih^

. ' !♦•■

STARVING IN MELBOURNE.

276

most eager welcome that has been extended to this Scheme reaches
us firom Melbourne, where our officers have been compelled to begin
operations by the pressure of public opinion and in compliance with
the ui^ent entreaties of the Government on one side and the leaders
of the working claases on the other before the plan had been
elaborated, or instructions could be sent out for their guidance.

It is rather strange to hear of distress reaching starvation point in
a dty like Melbourne, the capital of a gieat nev7 country which
teems with natural wealth of every kind. But Melbourne, too, has
its unemployed, and in no city in the Empire have we been more
successful in dealing with the social problem than in "the capital of
Victoria. The Australian papers for some weeks back have been
filled with reports of the dealings of the Salvation Army with the
unemployed of Melbourne. This was before the great Strike.
The Government of Victoria practically threw upon our officers the
task of dealing with the unemployed The subject was debated in
the House of Assembly, and at the close of the debate a subscription
was taken up by one of those who had been our most strenuous
opponents, and a sum of ;^400 was handed over to our officers to dis-
pense in keeping the starving from pferishing. Our people have
found situations for no fewer than i,776 persons, and are dispensing
meals at the rate of 700 a day. The Government of Victoria
has long been taking the lead in recognising the secular uses of the
Salvation Army. ^. The following letter addressed by the Minister
of the Interior to the Officer charged with the oversight of this
part off our J operations, indicates the estimation in which we are
hdd:-^

G^erament ol Victoria, Chief Secretary's Office,
"^ Melbourne. 7

July 4/A, 1889.

SuperinteH^eni Sali^tioa Anny Rescue VV^rk. .

Sir,-^In CQmpUaDce with your request for a letter of introduction which may
be of use to you in England, I have much pleasure in stating from reports
fumi^bed by OfiScert of my Department, I am convincfid that the work you have
been eggipged da during the pa9t su( ^axs has been of material advantage to the
comomuDJty. ; You bsve Feeeued fVom ccime some who, but for the counsel and
aaustance rendered tkeqi, might have been a permanent tax upon the Stc*'*, ' nd
you have restrained from further criminal courses others who had already suffered
legal punishment for their misdeeds. •)■, It has given me pleasure to obtain from
the Executive Council authority for you to apprehend children found in Brothels,"

!!'

1 : '

■f!(

md to take chaf^e^ moh. ciiildreo afteLCoima.! coqiinittal.

LOf^the^reat value.

276

RECAPITULATION.

of this branch of your work there can be no question. It is evident that lhe|
attendance of yourself and your Officers at the police-courts and lock-ups has:
been attended with beneficial results, and your invitation to our largest jails ha«j
been highly approved by the head of the Department. Generally speaking,
may say that your policy and procedure have been commended by the Chie;|
Officers of the Government of this Colony, who have observed your work.

X h{ive the honour to be, Sir,
' Your obedient Servant,

(Signed) Alfred DEAKirr.

The Victorian Parliament has voted an annual grant to our funds,
not as a religious endowment, but in recognition of the service whicli
we render in the reclamation of criminals, and what may be called,
if I may use a word which has been so depraved by Continental
abuse, the moral police of the city. Our Officer in Melbourne has ar,
official position which opens to him almost every State institution
and all the haunts of vice where it may be necessary for him to mal.:.
his way in the search for girls that have been decoyed from honi^ ]
or who have fallen into evil courses.

It is in Victoria also that a system prevails of handing over fir l
offenders to the care of the Salvation Army Officers, placing thein
VI recognizance to come up when called for. An Officer of ti.e
Army attends at every Police Court, and the Prison Brigade i-
always on guard at the gaol doors when the prisoners are discharged
Our Officers also have free access to the prisons, where they a..
conduct services and labour with the inmates for their Salvatio:.
As Victoria is probably the most democratic of our colonic,
and the one in which the working-class has supren .
control, the extent to which it has by its governme-j*
recognised the value of our operations ^ is sufficient ; .
indicate that we have nothing to fear from the opposition of the
democracy. In the neighbouring colony of New South Wales a lacy
has already given us a farm of three hundred acres fully stocked, c:i
which to begin operations with a Farm Colony, and there seem..
some prospect that the Scheme will get itself into active shape at the;
other end of the world before it is set agoing in London. The eager ;
welcome which has thus forced the initiative upon our Officers in
Melbourne tends to encourage the expectation that the Scheme will
be regarded as no quack application, but will be generally taken up
and^uickly set in operation all round the world.

CHAPTER VIII:

A PRACTICAL CONCLUSION.

Throughout this book I have more constantly used the first
[personal pronoun than ever before in anything I have written. I
lliave done this deliberately, not from egotism, but in order to make
lit more clearly manifest that here is a definite proposal made by an
lindividual who is prepared, if the means are furnished him, to carry
it out. '■'At the same time I want it to be clearly understood that it
k' not in my own strength, nor at mj own charge, that I purpose to
[embark upon tliis great undertaking. Unless God wills that I
should work out the idea of which I believe He has given me the
(conception, nothing can come of any attempt at its execution but
confusion, disaster, and disappointment. —But if it be His will — and
whether it is or not, visible and manifest tokens will soon be forth-
coming—who is there that can stand against it? Trusting in Him
for guidance, encouragement, and support, I propose at once to enter
[upon this formidable campaign. - .

! do not run without b-^ing called. I do not press forward to., fill
I this breach without being urgently pushed from, behind. Whether
or not, I am called of ^ God, as well. as by the agonising cries of
suftering men and women and children, He will make plain to me,
and to us all ; for as Gideon looked for a sign before he, at the
bidding of the heavenly ■ messenger, undertook the leading of the
! chosen people against the hosts of 'Midian, even so do I look for a
sign. Gideon's sign was arbitrary. - He selected it He dictated
his own terms; and out of compassion for his halting faith, a sign
Was V given to I him," and v that twice over. First, his fleece was dry
when ^all the country round was drenched with dew ; and, secondly,
In 3 r "-^e was':' drenched -with dew when all the country round

'w:\

'It! •

111

ij!

278

A PRACTICAL CONCLUSION.

The sign for which I ask to embolden mc to go forwards is single,
not double. It is necessary and not arbitrary, and it is one which
the veriest sceptic or the most cynical materialist will recognise as
sufficient. If I am to work out the Scheme I have outlined in this
book, I must have ample means for doing so. How much would be
required to establish this Plan of Campaign in all its fulness/ over-
shadowing all the land with its branches lartlen with all manner of
pleasant fruit, I cannot even venture to form a conception. But I
have a definite idea as to how much would be reauired to set it fairly
in operation.

Why do I talk about commencing ? We have already begun,, and
that with considerable effect. Our hand has been forced by circum-
stances. The mere rumour of our undertaking reaching the Anti-
podes, as before described, called forth such a demonstration of
approval that my Officers there were compelled to begin action with-
out waiting orders from home. In this country we have been workin*
on the verge of the deadly morass for some years gone by, and not
without marvellous effect. We have our Shelters, our Labour Bureau,
our Factory, our Inquiry Officers, our Rescue Homes, our Slum Sisters,
and other kindred agencies, all in good going order. The sphere of
these operations may be a limited one; still, what we have done already
is ample proof that when I propose to do much more I am not speak-
ing without my book ; and though the sign I ask for may not be
given, I shall go struggling forward on the same lines ; still, to
seriously take in hand the work which I have sketched out — to esta-
blish this triple Colony, with all its affiliated agencies, I must have, at
least, a hundred thousand pounds.

A hundred tliousand pounds I That is the dew on my fleece. It
is not muc considering the money that is raised by my poor peop ^.e
for the work of the Salvation Army. The proceeds of the Self-
Denial Week alone last year brought us in ;^20,cxx). This year it
will not fall short of ;C^25,ooo. If our poor people can do so much
out of their poverty, I do not think I am leaking an extravagant
demand when I ask that out of the millions of the wealth of the
world I raise, as a first instalment, a hundred thousand pounds, and
say that I rannot consider myself effectually called to undertake this
work unless it is forthcoming.

It is in no spirit of dictation or arrogance that I ask Hhe sign. It
is a necessity. Even Moses could not have taken the Children of
Israel dry-shod through the Red Sea unless the waves had divided.

^ards is single,
; is one which
1 recognise as
Jtlined in this
tiuch would be
fulness/ over-
all manner of
ption. " But I
to set it fairly

iy begun,, and
ed by circum-
ng the Anti-
lonstration of

1 action with-
been workin*

2 by, and not
ibour Bureau,

Slum Sisters,
The sphere of

done already
.m not speak-

may not be
les ; still, to
)ut— to esta-
must have, at

ly fleece. It

poor people

of the Seir-

This year it

1 do so much

extravagant

ealth of the

pounds, and

idertake this

THE^'SIQNillWANT.

279

That was the. sign'which.'marked "out. his duty; aided his "faith, and
determined his action. ^.Thesign which I seek' is 'somewhat similar;
Money is not everything. . It is not by any^means the main'ihingJ
Midas, with all his millions, could ho^ihore' do the;, work than he
could win the battle of Waterloo, or hold the Pass, of Thermopylae J
But the millions of Midas are capable"" of accomplishing great and
mighty things, if they be sent about doing good under the direction
of Divine v/isdom and Christ-like loye.

How hardly shall they that have riches enter' into the. Kingdom
of Heaven 1 It is easier to make a hundred'poof men sacrifice their
lives than it is to induce one rich man to sacrifice his fortune, or.
even a portion of it, to a cause in which, in his half-hearted fashion,'
he seems to believe.' When I: look over the roll of men and women'
who have given up friendi) parents; home prospects, and .everything,
they possess in order to walk bare-footed beneath a burning sun. inj
distant India, to live on a hapdful of rice, and^die^in'the midst of thej
dark heathen for God and the > Salvation Army,' I sometimes [ marvel
how it is that they should be so eager to give up all, even life itself,;
in a cause which has not power enough in it to induce any reasonaljle
number W wealthy men to "give to :it the' mere superfluities and
luxuries of their existence. * From those to whom much is' given muchi
is^xpected ; but, alas, alas, how little is . realised P It is still Jlie
^widow who casts her all into the Lord's treasury — the wealthy deem it a
preposterous suggestion when we allude to the Lord's tithe, and count it
boredom when we ask only for the crumbs that fall from their tables.]

Those who have followed me thus far will decide for themselves^
to; what extent they, ought to help me to carry out this Project, or
whether they ought to. help me at all. > L do not thinkfthat any,
sectarian differences or- religious feelings whatever ought to be
imported into this question. Supposing you do not like my Salva-
tionism, surely it is better for these miserable, wretched crowds to
have, food to eat, clothes to wear, and a home' in which to lay
their weary bones after their day's toil is done, even though the
chaise is accompanied by some peculiar religious notions^ and prac-
tices, <than it would be for them to be hungry, and naked, and
hoi^e;^ apd possess no religion at all. It must- be infinitely pre-
ferable that they should speak the truth, and be virtuous, industrious,
and contented, even if they do pray to God, sing Psalms, and go
about with red jerseys, faL?ticaily, as you call it, "seeking for the
jnaillennium"— rthan that thev.shqukL remain thieves or harlots, _with

■1 )

!|[^

; /

IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-3)

1.0

1.1

11.25

UiUl 12.5
^ ^ 12.2

1.4 IIIIII.6.

■^>i

"y.

Photographic

Sciences

Corporation

33 tViST MAIN STIteiT

WrwMTER.N.Y. 14580

(71«) •72-49(3

IVi

m I

280

A PRACTICAL CONCLUSION.

■ 3. Tha

no belief in God at all, a burden to the Municipality, a curse to ?s effeclut
Society, and a danger to the State. ijti me

That you do not like the Salvation Army, 1 venture to say, is no iome plai
justification for withholding your sympathy and practical co-opera- of these
tion in carrying out a Scheme which promises so much blessedness Let it se
to your fellow-men. You may not like our government, our methods, see the e^
our faith. Your feeling towards us might perhaps be duly described luccess.
by an observation that slipped unwittingly from the tongue of a to be relie
somewhat celebrated leader in the evangelistic world sometime ago, sideratior
who, when asked what he thought of the Salvation Army, replied turn to, a
that " He did not like it at all, but he believed that God Almighty jflfer, I de
did." Perhaps, as an agency, we may not be exactly of your way ol Now, i
thinking, but that is hardly the question. Look at that dark ocean, :xpresse(
full of human wrecks, writhing in anguish and despair. How to equally fj
rescue those unfortunates is the question. The particular charactci pu knovt
of the methods employed, the peculiar uniforms worn by the life- he book,
boat crew, the noises made by the rocket apparatus, and the important
mingled shoutings of the rescued and the rescuers, may all be nay not
contrary to your taste and traditions. But all these objections and them to t
antipathies, I submit, are as nothing compared with the delivering ol you then
the people out of that dark sea. or, rathei

If among my readers there be any who have the least concdptioi someone
that this scheme is put forward by me from any interested motives whom y<
by ail means let them refuse to contribute even by a sinj,le penny t( discernpc
what would be, at least, one of the most shameless of shams. Then saint or s
may be those who are able to imagine that men who have beeiB)uwels o
literally martyred in this cause have faced their death for the sake ol
the paltry coppers they collected to keep body and soul together^
Such may possibly find no difficulty in persuading themselves thai
this is but another attempt to raise money to augment that mythical
fortune which I, who never yet drew a penny beyond mere out-of^
pocket expenses from the Salvation A^-my funds, am supposed to
accumulating. From all such I ask only the tribute of their abub
assured that the worst they say of me is too mild to describe the infain
of my conduct if they are correct in this interpretation of my motive

There appsars to me to be only two reasons that will justify aii
man, with a heart in iiis bosom, in refusing to co-operate with ml
in this Scheme : —

I. That he should have an honest and inteiiigent conviction that
cannot be carried out with any reasonable measure of success; or.

I shou
as some
ihould I
fhis o\
nvestiga

There
xcuse t
Liieme.
f thouss
oring

ho thin
f poun

aking

) say, is no
al co-opera-

PiW"

IS IT IMPOSSIBLE?

231

That he (the objector) is prepared with some other plan ivhi^h will
a curse to§?s effectually accomplish the end it contemplates.

Let me consider the second reason first. If it be that you have
iome plan that promises more directly to accomplish the deliverance
jf these multitudes than mine, I implore you at once to bring it out.
Let it see the light of day. Let us not only hear your theory, but

your way o
dark ocean

r chan

lif,

blessedness

ur methods, see the evidences which prove its practical character and assure its

y described iuccess. If your plan will bear investigation, I shall then consider you

ongue of a to be relieved from the o\ ligation to assist rae — nay, if after full con-

metime ago, sideration of your plan I find it better than mine, I will give up mine,

■my, replied turn to, and help you with all my might. But if you have nothing to

)d Almighty jffer, I demand your help in the name of those whose cause I plead.

Now, then, for your first objection, which I suppose can be

;xpressed in one word — " impossible." This, if well founded, is

How to Equally fatal to my proposals. But, in reply, I may say — How do

ar charactci pu know ? Have you inquired ? I will assume that you have read

by the lifo-^ he book, and duly considered it. Surely you would not dismiss so

s, and the important a theme without some thought. And though my arguments

may all be nay not hav.e sufficient weight to carry conviction, you must admit

ijections and them to be of sufficient importance to warrant investigation. Will

delivering ol you therefore come and see for yourself what has been done already,

or, rather, what we are doing to-day. Failing this, will you send

it conception someone capable of judging on your behalf. I do not care very much,

sted motive! whom you send. It is true the things of the Spirit are spiritually

^le penny t( discerned, but the things of humanity any man can judge, whether

ims. Then saint or sinner, if he only possess average intelligence and ordinary

o have beeAuwels of compassion.

r the sake ofl I should, however, if I had a choice, prefer an investigator who
lul togetheAas some practical knowledge of social economics, and much more
nselves thaAhould I be pleased if he had spent some of his own time and a little
lat mythics^f his own money in trying to do the work himself. After such
nvestigation I am confident there could be only one result.
There is one more -^ lea I have to offer to those who might seek to
xcuse themselves from rendering any financial assistance to the
nieme. Is it not worthy at least 0/ being tried as an txperimeni ? Tens
I thousands of pounds are yearly spent in " trying " for minerals,
oring for coals, sinking for water, and i believe there are those
ho think it worth while, at an expenditure of hundreds of thousands
pounds, to experiment in order to test the possibility ,of
aking a tunnel under the sea between this country and

aicre out-
jposed to
their abuL,
e the infani
my motive
1 justify ail
ate with ml

iction that

! I

•.■■:- |i
V ,-i

s; or,

V'^

«B

PRACTICALTCONCLUSIOI^.

■

jhuridfeds ■ oitl^thousahds of pounds have beeiTexpended/^tTOtithey^
havepiSr; been J wasted, and they|will ^not;' com'plainTj^ause
[they liave at least attempted the accomplishment bf:that;whichjhcy^
ifelt^^ught to be done; and it • must t be better to fattempt'rafiJuty/
'though we fail, than never to* attempt it at all^lri^thisjbook^w^^^
think we have presented a sufficient reason to justify theexpchditure
of the montjy and effort involved in the making |;bf*this'i*cxperiihent.
And though the effort should not 'terminate^ in* the" grand *success
; w'2nch;^ I so confidently predict,': aridy;which we ' all^ must so ardently
desirej* still there is bound tdbe^^ not 'only 'the satistactiorfof ^liaying
attempted some''s6il;of|delivefancet?6r£ these wretched people^ but
certain, results whichlwilljariipjyt're^^^
'the experiment.

I ;am^now ■ sixty-one yearsJof|age3|^Th€r laSt^cighteen *fionths,
during which the ■ continual partner'of all my activities for no^iicariy
forty years has laid in, the aims"" of unspeakable sufTerihg, has'^ailded

more .than many many* former 'ones, to/the exhaustiori^'br, my
Service, i I feel already jsoniething "^of .the pressurej which ■

pressure.

term of
led^the

dying Emperor 'of Germany tb'say,'; *| I. have no'time^to; be weary."

■-«-,

ilf jj^^van* Jto see., the accomplishment : iiil'ahy. considerable- degree of
these' life-long hopes;^I must be enabled- to'embark' upon, the Enter-
prise without delay, and with' the'wbrld-wide burdenxonstantly upon
me '■:■ in connection with*^ the universar mission *of our.; Army I cannot
be" Expected to, struggle in this mattei: alone.

But'^I- trust ; that ; the upper'arid < middle -xlasses^ are at laSt b€ihg
awakened out 'of their long slumber with regard tor the permanent
improvement biF the lot of those who have hitherto been regarded as
being.for ever abandoned and hopeless." Shame indeed iipon England
if, withY the', example X presented to us nowadays iby^thc; Emperor
and Government of Germany,. we simply shrug our shoulders,^'an:i
pass on^again to'^our business* or our pleasure leaving these. wretchc.!
multitudes in the gutters wher«* they have lain so long^^i-.Ncf no^ no ;
time is short, 't Let us arise in the name of God^and.hutriahit;^'^and
wipe away the sad stigma fro^ ' the British banneirlthati^sur; horses
are better treated than our labourers;.

Iti will, be ;seetfCthat ■ this Scheme^containsf manyf BraScliesi It
is probable that' some' o' •^** """'*— »'~~" — v* i^i- -kiv ** -i^ Ji:-sH *t.-!i

t>Ian a^:2^hble while

ira-

gn
d,iti^hey

inflMcause

tOwhichthey,

imptra?duty;

^bbah^wc do

rexpcnditure

experiment.

rand ^success

it so ardently

biToffhaying

i peoplej*but

expended: in

teen fhonths,
>r now^

ig, has added
ifmy terai ot
rhich< leaf the
:ov be weary,
bid^aegree of
)n. thie inter-
nstahtlyupon
jihy I cannot

sat laSthgihg
lepermanent
ii regarded as
Lipon England
the Empieror
ioulders,''an:i
lese.wretchc-i
<|,No,no;no;
lumahity/aiid
iatiisui'i horsts

BrShcIiesi Itl
o^iSdbfsithei

HOW TO SUBSCRIBE.

283

and to the support of what they do not heartily approve they may not
be willing to subscribe. Where this is so, wc shall be glad for them
to assist us in carrying rut those portions of the undertaking which
more especially command their sympath}' and commend themselves
to their judgment. For instance, one man may believe in the
Over-Sea Colony, but feel no interest in the Inebriates' Home ;
another, who may not care for emigration, may desire to furnish a
Factory or Rescue Home ; a third may wish to give us an estate,
assist in the Food and Shelter work, or the extension of the Slum
Brigade. Now, although I regard the Scheme as one and
indivisible — from which you cannot take away any portion without
impairing the prospect of the whole — it is quite practicable to
administer the money subscribed so that the wishes of each donor
may be carried out. Subscriptions may, therefore, be sent in for the
general fund of the Social Scheme, or they can be devoted to any of
the following distinct funds : —

1. The City C *^ony.

2. The Farm Colony.

3. The Colony Over-Sea.

4. The Household Salvage

Brigade.

5. The Rescue Homes for

Fallen Women.

6. Deliverance for the
Drunkard.

7. The Prison Gate Brigade.

8. The Poor Man'fi Bank.

9. The Poor Man's Lawyer.
10. Whitechapel-by-the-Sea.

Or any other department suggested by the foregoing.

Ih making this appeal I have, so far, addressed myself chiefly to
those who have money ; but money, indispensable as it is, has never
been the thing moat needful. Money is the sine vvs of war ; and, as
society is at present constituted, neither carnal nor spiritual wars
can be carried on without money. But there is something more
necessary still. War cannot be waged without soldiers. A
Wellington can do far more in a campaign than a Rothschild.
More than money — a long, long way — I v/ant men ; and when I say
men, I mean women also — men of experience, men of brains, men of
heart, and men of God.

In this great expedition, though I am starting tor territory which is
familiar enough, I am, in a certain sense, entering an unknown land.
My people will be new at it. Wc have trained our soldiers to the
r.aving of souls, we have taught them Knee-drill, we have instructed
ihem in the art and mystery of dealing with the consciences and hearts
; I" men ; and that will ever continue t'uu main business of their lives.

I !
i '■

■•■.\V

r :■■

■S<«i

^^^

^^m

284

'A PRACTICAL CONCLUSIOM

To save the soul, to regenerate the life, and to inspire the spirit with
the undying love'of Christ is the worklo'^Whicli all other duties must
ever be strictly'^subordinate in the Soldiers *of the Salvation Afmy.'
But the new sphere on which we are. entering" will 'call for faculties
other, than those which have hitherto been cultivated, and For know-
ledge of a different character ; and those' who have these gifts, and
who ^arev possessed of this practical :.: information, ^.will be sprely
needed.'.

Already our world-wide Salvation work Gn~rosses the energies of
every,,; Officer whom we command/^^. With its extension we have
the greatest difficulty to keep pice; and, when this Scheme has to.
be practically grappled with, we shall, be in greater straits' than ever.
True, it will find employment for, ,a multitude of energies arid talents
which are now lying dormant, but, nevertheless, this extension will
tax our resources to the very utmost. ' In view 'of this, reinforce-'
ments will be indispensable. We shall need the ^ best brains, the
largest experienceif and iif the most? undaunted v energy of the
community.

I want Recruits, buf I cannot soften the conditions in order to
attract 'men to the Colours. ■'■■• I want no comrades on these terms,
but those who know .jour rules and are prepared to submit to our
discipline: who are one" with us on the great principles whtchf deter-
mine our action, and whose hearts are inuhis great t work.' for ^ the
amelioration of the hard Jot jpflhe. lapsed, and lost:^LThiESeJ.wilL
welcome to the service.

t may be that you cannot deliver an open-air; address, or conduct
an indoor meeting. ; Public labour for souls has hitherto been outside
your practice. • In the Lord's vineyard, h6\yeyer; are many labourers,'
and all are not needed to do the same thirigi'^If you have a practical
acquaintance with any of the varied operatioris of which I have
spoken in this book ; if you are familiar with; agricultare, understand
the building trade, or have a practical knowledge of almost any form
of manufacture,' there is a place for you.-

jWe cannot offer you great pay, social position, or any glitter and
tinsel of man's glory; in fact, we can promise little more than rations,
plenty of hard work, and probably no little 'of worldly scorn ; but if
on the whole you believe you can in no other way help your-Lord.so
well and bless humanity so much, you^/ivill brave the oppbsition^of
friends, abandon earthly- pfospects;^Mtrampiepricle' under foot, and
come out and follow Him i>i this NewXrusade.

soui
conl
The
min
whii
give
the
the
I
oblij
rest
the
Plai
whc
unn

■ l:

Your respomsibilitv/

S»i

To you who believe in the remedy here' proposed, aiia the
soundness of these plans, and have the ability to assist me, I now
confidently appeal for practical evidence of the faith that, is in you^
The responsibility is no longer mine alone. ;. It is your? as much as
mine. It is yours even more than mine if you withhold the means by
which I may cairy out the Scheme. ', I give what I have.S'If you
give what you have the work ^ will be done.,v; If it is not done, and
the dark river of wretchedness rolls on, as wide and deep as.ever*
the consequences will lie at the door of him who holds back.*

I am only one man among my fellows, the same as you3^ IThe
obligation to care for^ these lost and perishing multitudes does not
rest on me any more than it does on you. < To me has been given
the idea, but to you the means by which it may be realised. ;';i The
Plan has now been published to the world; it is for yo^>tQ say
whether it is to remain barren, ' or whether it is to bear fruit in
unnumbered blessings to all the children of men.

I !

■.i

..'I

■,'j

■[ :'■

-1

wmmmmmmmmmmmm.

mim

APPENDIX.

THE SALVATION ARMY.

THB FOStTION OF OUB FORCES.
OCTOBBB, 1890.

Corp*

Boclelles.

The United KinKdom ... 137&

Out-
posts.

oncers

Persons

wholly

enfrased

in tno

Work.

4fi06

Prance
Switcerland

\ 106

•••

&,U

Sweden ...

103

338

United Statee

• •• ei

. 363

1066

nnnda

••• ••• 317

1031

AuitralU-

Vlotorla ..

... ]

South Australia

Mew South Wales

- 370

465

903

Tasmania

•••

Queenslnnd

••• (

jNeyr Zealand

«•• e»

. 65

186

India
Cpylon

... ,

• 80 .

419

Holland ...

••a ••

131

Denmark ...

•«• ••

. 33

—

Norway ...

• •a ••

. 45

133

Germany ...

«•■ ••

. 16

Belgium ...

• •• ••

—

FinUnd ...

• •• ••

. 3

—

The Argentine Uepublh

i 3

—

South Africa

aud St

Helena ...

eae ••

163

Total abroad

. 1499

896

4910

Grand total

••• ••

.2874

896

M16

THB SUPPLY ("TBADB") DEFAKTMRNT.

At Home. Abroad.
Buildings occupied— At Home,

8 1 Abroad, 23

OlBcere ' ... 68 ... 15

Bmplojte ... 307 ... .%5

••« •••

*••

«877.S00

•••

10.000

13,598

•■•

11.676

*•«

6.601

• ••

98,738

•••

86.351

•••

14.798

•••

6.637

•••

7.188

•••

a.340

•••

10.401

••a

£644.618

THB ' ^OPERTY DBFABTMBITr.
Proptrfy now Vested in the Armif;—
The United Kingdom ...
France and Switzerland ...

Sweden

Norway

The United States

Canada

Australia

New Zealand

mala ... ... .„ „,

Holland
Denmark .. ..

South Africa...

Total ..

Value of trade effects, stock, machinery, and
goods on hand. £1.30,000 additional.

SOCIAL WORK OF THB ARMY.
Rescue homes (fallen women)..,

Slum Post*

Prison Gate Brigades

Food Depots ,

Shelters for the Destitute ..

Inebriates* Home

Factory for the " out of work" .,

Labour Bureaux

Officers nnd others managing those bmnehes 384

SALVATION AND SOCIAL RBFORM
LITISUATURB.

At Cirou-

home. Abroad. lation.
Weekly Newspapers ... 3 ... 34 „. 81.000,0iiu
Monthly Magazlnts... 3 ... 13 ... S.400,00Q

•••

•e«

•••

tea

•••

•so

•••

_ Total ... M •

zi,mjM

Total

800

^^^imm^paRBiWP

APPENDIX.

Total annual circulation of the above 88,400,000
Total annual circulation of other
publications .^ ...' 4,000,000

Total annual circulation of
literature*** ••• ••* ••• •••

Tax United Kinox>ok—
" The War Cry
" The Young Soldier
"All the World"...
"The Deliverer"...

Army

37.400.000

eea ae*

••• eea

eei eee

300,000 weekly.
136,750 „

60,000 monthly.

48,000 „

GENERAL STATRMEN'i'S AND STATISTICS.

Accom- Annual
modaticn. cost.

£11, COO

Training Garrisons for Ofll
oeri (United KinKdom)... 28 400
Do. Do. (Abroad)... 3S 7C0

Large Vans for Evange-
Using the Villa(ies(l(nown
as Cavalry Forts) 7

Homes of Rest for Ofllcers 3i 240 10.000

Indoor Meetings, held
weekly 38,391

Open-air Meetings beld
weekly (chiefly In
England and Colonics) 31,467

Total Meetings i

My 49,818

Number of Houses visited
weekly (Great Brltoin
only) 84,000

Number of ' Countries and Colonies
occupied 34

number of Languages In which Litera-
ture is issued 15

Number of Languages In which Saltation
is preached by tlie Officers 39

Number of I^ocal' (Non-Commissloned
Officers) and Bandsmen 33,069

Number ot Scribes and Office Employes 471

Average weekly reception of telegrams,
vVN). and Utters, 6,400, at the London
Headquartera.

Sum raited annually from all sources by

the Army £750,'X)0

Bala.'vce Shkkts. duly audited by chartered

accountants, are issued annually in connection

with the Intcrnntional Headquarters. See the

Anniul Report of INSO-" Apostolic Warfare."
Balance Sheets are also produced quarterly a^

•vecv Curps in Ui« wpi Id. audited and siicned

by the Local Officers. Dl vlalonal Balance SheeU
Isaued monthly and audited by s Special Depart-
ment at Headquarters.

Duly and Independently audited Balance
Sheets are also issued annually from vtny
Territorial Headqoarten

THE AUZILIAkT LBAQUB.

The Salvation Army International AnxlUary
League is composed
1.— Of persons who, without neeossarlly en-
dorsing or approving of every single method
used b" the Salvation Army, are sufleiently in
sympathy with its great work of reelalminc
drunkards, rescuing the fallen— in • word,
tavintf the loit— as to give it their pbayirs,

XNFLUKNOK, AND MONKT.

3.— Of persons who, although seeing eya>>
eye with the Army, yet are unable to Join it,
owing to being actively engaged in the work ot
their own denominations, or by reason of bad
health or other infirmities, which forbid their
taklug any active part lit Christian work.
Persons are enrolled either as Subscribing of
Colleoting Auxiliaries

The League comprises persons of Influenee and
ition. members of nearly all denominations,
and many ministers.

PAMPHLBTS.-Auxillarles will always be
supplied gratis with copies of our Annual Re-
port and Balance Sheet and oth^r pamphlets
for distribution on application to Headquarters.
Some of our Auxiliaries have matfrtally helped
us In this way by distributing our literature at
the seaside and elsewhere, tnd by making
arrangements for the regular supply of waiting
rooms, liydropathics, and hotels, thus helping
to dispel the prejudice nnder which many
persons unacquainted with the Army are found
to labour

"All tur World" is posted free regularly
each month to Auxiliaries.

For further information, and for full particu-
lars of the work of The Salvation Army, apply
personally or by letter to GENERAL BOOTH,
Or to the Financial Secretary at International
Headquarters, 101. Queen Victoria St., London,
E.G., to whom also contributions should be
sent

Cheques and Postal Ordcn eroisad '*Ollj

t trM regn]iirl5

THE SALVATION ARMY: A SKETCH.

BY AN OFFICER OF SEVENTEEN .YEARS' STANDING.

■■*■■■' /

H'hat is the Salvatum Armyf

It is an Oi^ganisation existing to effect a radical revolution in the spiritual
condition of the enormous majority of the people of all lands. Its aim is to
produce a change not only in the opinions, feelings, and principles of these vasl
populations, but to alter the whole course of their lives, so that instead ot
spending their time in frivolity and pleasure-seeking, if not in the grossest forms
of vice, they shall spend it in the service of their geneAtion and in the worship
of God. So far it has mainly operated in professedly Christian countries, where
the overwhelming majority of the people have ceased, publicly, at any rate, to
^worship Jesus Christ, or to submit themselves in any way to His authority. To
what extent has the Army succeeded ?

Its flag is now flying in 34 countries or colonies, where, under the leader-
ship of nearly 10,000 men and women, whose lives are entirely given up to the
work, it is holding some 49,800 religious meetings every week, attended by
millions of persons, who ten yearsago would have laughed at the idea of pray-
ing. And these operations aire but the means for further extension, as will be
seen, especially when it is remembered that the Army has its 27 weekly news-
papers, of which no less than 31,000,000 copies are sold in the streets, public-
houses, and popular resorts of the godless majority. From, its, ranks it is
therefore certain that an ever-increasing multitude of men and women must
eventually be won.

That all this has not amounted to the creation ot a mere passing gust of
feeling, may best be demonstrated perhaps from the fact that the Army has
accumulated no less than £77^,000 worth of property, pays rentals amount-
ing to £210,000 per annum for its meeting places, and has a total income from
all sources of three-quarters of a million per annum.

Now consider from whence all this has sprung.

It js only twenty-five years since the author of this volume stood" absolutely
aloaedQ\tbei.£asti,of^London,,to. endeavourjoj^. Christianise • its.irre^gioua;

APPENDIX.

multltudei, without the remotest conception in hii own'mlnd of the possibility
of any such Organisation being created. ,

Consider, moreover, through what opposition the Salvation Army has ever
had to malce its way.

In each country it has to face universal prejudice, distrust, and contempt, and
often stronger antipathy still. This opposition has generally found expression
in systematic. Governmental, and Police restriction, followed in too many cases
by imprisonment, and by the condemnatory outpourings of Bishops, Clergy,
Pressmen and others, naturally followed in too many instances by the oaths
and curses, the blows and insults of the populace. : Through all this, in country
after country, the Army makes its way to the position of universal respect,
that respect, at any rate, which is shown «to those who have conquered.

And of what material has this conquering host been made ?

Wherever the Army g^fi5 it gathers into its meetings, m the first instance, s
crowd of the most debased, brutal, blasphemous elements^' that can be found
who; if permitted, interrupt the services, and if they see *the slightest; sigh of
police tolerance for their misconduct, frequently fall .upon the Army officers or
their property with violence. 'Yet a couple of Officers face such an audience
with^ the absolute certainty of recruiting out of it an Army Corp8.'^!^Many
thousands of those who. are now most prominent in the raiiks of the Ahny
never knew what it was to pray before they attended its services; 'and large
numbers of them had settled into a profound conviction <> that 'everything
connected with religion Vas n.erly false, rit is out of such material that God
has constructed what is admitted to be one ot the mo8t^< fervid /bodies of
believers ever seen on the face of the earth.

Many persons in looking at the progress of the Army have shown a strange
want of discernment in talking and writing as though all this had been done in a
most haphazard fashion, or as though an individual could by the mere effort of
his will produce such changes in the lives of others as he chose. The slightest
reflection will be sufficient we are sure to convince any impartial individual that
the gigantic results attained by the Salvation Afmy could only be reached by
steady unaltering processes adapted to this end. ': And what are the processes
by Which this great Army has been made ?

I. The foundation of all the Army's success, Iboked at apart from its divine
source of 'strength, is its continued direct attack upon those whom it tieeksto
bring under the influence of the Gospel The Salvation Army Officer, instead of
standing upon some dignified pedestal,' to describe the fallen condition of his
ieltow menl^'in the hope that though far from him, they may thus, by some
mysterious process, come to a better life, goes down into the street, and from
door to doof, and from room to room, lays his hands on those who are spiritually
!<i«'Hrand leads them to the Almighty Healer. In its forms of speech and writing

»HE SALVATION ARMY: A SKETCH.

vll

poitibility

f has ever

itempt, and
expression
many cases
ps, Clergy,
r the oaths
, in country
lal respect,

instance, a
li be found
test, sign of
f officers or
in audience
ps.;^^Many
f the Ahny
•'and large
'everything
al that God
1, bodies of

n a strange
:n done in a
ere effort of
he slightest
ividual that
reached by
I processes

m its divine
it teeks to
r, instead of
ition of his
IS, by some
!t, and from
spiritually
and writing

the Army constantly exhibits this same characteristic. Instead of propounding
religious theories or pretending to teach a system of theology, it speaks much
after the fashion of the old Prophet or Apostle, to each individual, about his or
her sin and duty, thus bringing to bear upon each heart and conscience the
light and power from heaven, by which alone the world can be transformed.

3. And step by step, along with this human contact goes unmistakably
something that is not human.

The puzzlement and self-contradiction of most critics of the Army springs
undoubtedly from the fact that they are bound to account for its success without
admitting that any superhuman power attends its ministry, yet day after day,
and night after night, the wonderful facts go on multiplying. The man who
fast night was drunk in a London slum, is to-night standing up for Christ on an
Army platform. The clever sceptic, who a few weeks ago was intenupting tiic
speakers in Berlin, and pouring contempt upon their claims to a personal
knowledge of the unseen Saviour, is to-day as thorough a believer as any of
inem. The poor girl, lost to shame and hope, who a month igo was an out-
cast of Paris, is to-day a modest devoted follower of Christ, working in a
humble situation. To those who admit we are right in saying "this is
the Lord's doing," all is simple enough, and our certainty that the dregs
of Society can become its ornaments requires no further explanation.

3. All these modern miracles would,^however, have been comparatively useless
but for the Army's system of utilising the gifts and energy of our converts to the
uttermost. Suppose that without any claim to Divine power the Army had
succeeded in raising up tens of thousands of persons, formerly unknown and
unseen in the community, and made them into Singers, Speakers, Musicians, and
Orderlies, that would surely in itself have been a remarkable fact. But not only
have these engaged in various labours for the benefit of the community. They have
been filled with a burning ambition to attain the highest possible degree of useful-
ness. No one can wonder that we expect to see the same process carried on suc-
cessfully amongst our new friends of the Casual Ward and the Slum. And if the
Army has been able to accomplish all this utilisation of human talents for the
highest purposes, in spite of an almost universally prevailing contrary practice
amongst the Churches, what may not its Social Wing be expected to do, with
the example of the Army before it ?

4. The maintenance of all this system has, of course, been largely due to
the unq«<alified acceptance of military government and discipline. But for this,
we cannot be blind to the fact that even in our own ranks difficulties would
every day arise as to the exaltation to front seats of those who were formerly
persecutors and injurious. The old feeling which would have kept Paul
suspected, in the background, after his conversion is, unfortunately,
a part ot the cpnservative groundwork of ^hunuui nature that con-

^■p

i"^i^^

«^

viii

APPENDIX,

.1 I

-I

tinucs .to 'exist everywhere, and whirh has \n be overcome by rigid dis-
cipline in order to secure that eveiywherc and always, the new convert should
be made the most of for Christ. But our Army system is a great indis-
putable fact, so much so that our enemies sometimes reproach us with it That
it should be posr^ble to create an Army Organisation, and to secure faithful
execution of duty daily is indeed a wonder, but a wonder accomplished, just as
completely amongst the Republicans ot America and France, as amongst the
militarily trained Germans, or the subjects of the British monarchy. It is
notorious that we can send an officer from London, possessed of no extra-
ordinary ability, to take command of any corps m the world, with a certainty
that he will find soldiers eager to do his bidding, and without a thought
of disputing his commands, so long as he continues faithful to the prders and
regulations under which his men are enlisted.

5. But those show a curious ignorance who set down our successes to this
discipline, as though it were something of the prison order, although enforced
without any of the power lying either behind the prison warder or the Catholic
priest. On the contrary, wherever the discipline of the Army has been
endangered, and its regular success for a time interrupted, it has been through
an attempt to enforce it without enough of that joyous, cheerful spirit of love
which is its main spring. Nobody can become acquainted with our soldiers in
any land, without being almost immediately struck with their ^extraordinary
gladness, and this joy is in itself one of the most infectious and influential
elements of the Army's success. But if this be so, amid the comparatively well
to do, judge of what its results are likely to be amongst the poorest and most
wretched I To those who have never known bright days, the mere sight of a
happy face is as it were a revelation and inspiration in one.

6. But the Army's success does not come with magical rapidity ; it depends,
like that of all real work, upon infinite perseverance.

To say nothing of the perseverance of the Officer who nas made the saving ot
men his life work, and who, occupied and absorbed with this great pursuit, may
naturally enough be expected to remain faithful, there are multitudes of our
Soldiers who, after a hard day's toil for their daily bread, have but a few hours q1
leisure, but devote it ungrudgingly to the service of the War. Again and again,
When the remains of some Soldier are laid to rest, amid the almost universal
respect of a town, which once knew him only as an evil-dper, we hear it said that
this man, since the dafe of his conversion, from five to ten years ago, has seldom
been absent from his post, and never without good reason for it His duty may
have been comparatively insignificant, " only a door-keeper," *' only a lV(gr Cry
seller," yet Sunday after Sunday, evening after evening, he would be present, no
matter who the commanding officer might be, to do his part, bearing with the un-
ruly, breathing hope into the distressed, and showinK unwavering faithfulness toalL

THE SALVATION ARMY: A SKETCH.

y ri^id dis-
nvert should

great indis-
/ith it That
cure faithful
ished, just as
amongst the
archy. It is

of no extra-
th a certainty
jt a thought
; orders and

cesses to this
ugh enforced
the Catholic
ly has been
been through
spirit of love
ir soldiers in
^traordinary
d influential
ratively well
:st and most
!re sight of a

; it depends,

the saving ot

pursuit, may

Ludes of our

few hours qI

n and again,

ast universal

r it said that

, has seldom

is duty may

a WturCry

present, no

with the un-

ulnesstQaU.

The continuance of these processes of mercy depends largely upon leader-
ship, and the creation and maintenance of this leadership has been one of the
marvels of the Movement. We have men to-day looked up to and reverenced
over wide areas of country, arousing multitudes to the most devoted service,
who a few years ago were champions of iniquity, notorious in nearly every form
of vice, and some of them ringleaders in violent opposition to the Army. We
have a right to believe that on the same lines God is going to raise up just
such leaders without measure and without end.

Beneath, behind, and pervading all the successes of the Salvation Army is a
force against which the world may sneer, but without which the world's
miseries cannot be removed, the force of that Divine love which breathed on
Calvary, and which God is able to communicate by His spirit to human
hearts to-day.

It is pitiful to see intelligent men attempting to account, without the
admission of this great fact, for the self-sacrifice and success of Salvation
Officers and Soldiers. If those who wish to understand the Army would only
take the trouble to spend as much as twenty-four hours with its people,
how different in almost every instance would be the conclusions arrived at.
Half-an-hour spent in the rooms inhabited by many of our officers would
be sufficient to convince, even a well-to-do working man, that life could
not be lived happily in such circumstances without some superhuman power,
which alike sustains and gladdens the soul, altogether independently of earthly
surroundings.

The Scheme that has been propounded in this volume would, we are quite
satisfied, have no chance of success were it not for the fact that we have such a
vast supply of men and women who, through the love of Christ ruling in their
hearts, are prepared to look upon a life of self-sacrificing effort for the benefit
of the vilest and roughest as the highest of privileges. With such a force at
command, we dare to say that the accomplishment of this stupendous under-
taking is a foregone conclusion, if the material assistance which the Army does
not possess is forthcoming.

THE SALVATION ARMY SOCIAL REFORM WING.
Temporary Headquarters —

36, Upper Thames Street, London, EXL

Objects. — The bringing together 01 employers and workers for their mutual
advantage. , Making known the wants of each to each by providing a ready
method of cohimunication.

Plan of Operation.— The opening of a Central Registry OfBce, which for
the present will be located at the above address, and where registers will be
kept fne of charge wherein the wants of both employers and workers will be
recorded, the registers being open for consultation by all interested.

Public Waiting Rooms (for male, and female), to which the unemployed may
come for the purpose of scanning the newspapers, the insertion of advertise-
ments for employment in all newspapers at lowest rates. Writing tables, &c.,'
provided for their use to enable them to write applications for situations or
work.'^rThe receiving of letters (replies to applications for employment) for
unemployed workers.

The Waiting Rooms will also act as Houses-of-Call, where employers can
meet and enter into engagements with Workers of all kinds, by appointment or
otherwise, thus doing away with the snare that awaits many of the unemployed,
who :have^ no place to wait other than the Public House, which at present is
almost the only -" house-of-call !* forput-of-Work men.

By liking known to the public generally the wants ot the unemployed by
means of advertisements, by circulars, and direct application to employers, the
issue of labour statistics with information as to the number of unemployed who
ar^ anxious for work, the various trades and occupations they represent, &c.,&c.

,The^^opening of branches of the Labour Bureau as fast as funds and
opp^biiities permit, in all the large towns and centres of industry throughout
GreatlBiitain.

In,:cdnnection with the Labour Bureau, we propose to deal with both skilled
and unskilled^workers, amongst the latter forming such agencies as "Sandwich"
Board' Men's : Soc]etj/;,lShoc I Black;iCarpet Beating, While-washing, Window

WING.

>NDON, E.C

r their mutual
iding a ready

ke, which for
gisters will be
orkers will be
i~

mployed may
of advertise-
ig tables, &c.;
r situations or
ployment) for

:the labour bureau.

Cleauing, Wood Chopping, and other Brigades, all of which will, with many
then, bie put into operation as far as the assistance of the public (ia the shape
of applying for workers of all kinds) will afford us the opportunity.

A Domestic Servants' Agency will also be a branch of the Bureau^ and a
Home For Domestic Servants out of situation is also in contemplation. > In this
aud other matters funds alone are required to commence operations.

All communications, donations, etc., should be addressed as above, marked
" Labour Bureau," etc.

employers can
ppointment or
! unemployed,
li at present is

lemployed by
imployers, the
employed who
esent, &c., &c.
s funds and
ry throughou:

^ both skilled
I "Sandwich"
wng* Window

IPUPMI

HiilHHI

Xii

APPENDIX.

CENTRAL LABOUR BUREAU.
LOCAL 'AGENTS AND CORRESPONDENTS* DEPARTMENT.

Dear Comrade,— The enclosed letter, which has been sent to our Officers
throughout the Field, will explain the object we have in view. Your name has
been suggested to us as one whose heart is thoroughly in symg^thy with any
effort on behalf of poor suffering humanity. /We are anxious to have in con-
nection with each of our Corps, and in every locality throughout the Kingdom,
some sympathetic, level-headed comrade, acting as our Agent or local Corfes-
pondent, to whom we could refer at all times for reliable information, and.wht^
would take it as work of love to regularly communicate useful information
respecting the social condition of things generally in their neighbourhood.

Kindly reply^ giving us yourviews and feelings on. the subject as soon as
possible, 99 we are anxious to organise at once. The first business on hand is
for us to get information of those'' out of work and employers requiring
workers, so that we can place them upon our registers, and make known the
wants both of employers and employes.

We shall be glad of a communication from you, giving us some facts as to
the condition of things in your locality, or any ideas or suggestions you would
like to give, calculated to help us in connection with this good work.;'

I may say that the Social Wing not only comprehends, the labour question^
but. also prison rescue and other branches of Salvation work, ^dealing ywith
brdcen-down humanity generally, so that you can see what a great blessjng you
may 1)e to the work of. God by co-operating with us.

"* Believe me to be,

Yours affectionately for the Suffering and Lost.'^etc.

LOCAL AGENTS' DEPARTMENT.

Xllt

LOCAL AGENTS AND CORRESPONDENTS' DEPARTMENT.

*PRQPOSITION FOR LOCAL AGENT, CORRESPONDENT, ETC

Name.

Address .

Occupation.

If a Soldier, what Corps?.

-,f

If not a Soldier, what Denomination ? .

U spoken to oh the subject, what reply they have mnde ? .

•s requiring
known the

Signed ,
Corps..

Date.

.189

Kuidly return this as soon as possible, and we will then place ourselves in
communication with the Comrade you propose for this position.

"xlv

APPENDIX.

TO EMPLOYERS OF LABOUR

We beg to bring to your notice the fact that the Salvation Army has
o]:cned at the above address (in connection with the Social Reform Wing),
a Labour Bureau for the Registration of the wants of all classes of Labour, for
buth employer and employ^ in London and throughout the Kingdom, our
object being to place in communication with each other, for mutual advantage,
those who want workers and those who want work.

Arrangements have been made at the above address for waiting rooms, where
employers can see unemployed men and women, and where the Matter may have
accommodation to write letters, see the advertisements in the papers, &c., &c. ''

If you are in want of workers of any kind, will you kindly fill up the enclosed
form and return it to us ? We will then have the particulars entered up, and
endeavour to have your wants supplied. All applications, I need hardly assure
you, will have our best attention, whether they refer to work of a permanent or
temporary character.

We shall also be glad, through the information office of Labour Department,
to give you any further information as to our plans, &c., or an Officer will wait
upon you to receive instructions for the supply of workers, if requested.

\As no charge will be made for registration ot either the wants of employers
pt the wants of the unemployed, it will be obvious that a considerable outlay
will be. necessary to sustain these operations in active usefulness, and that
therefore financial help will be greatly needed.'

We shall gratefully receive donations, from the smallest coin up, to help to cover
the cost of working this department. ': We think it right to say that only in
special cases shall we feel at liberty to give personal recommendations. ;.This,
however, >riir no doubt be understood, seeing that we shall have to deal with
yeiy large numbers who are total strangers to us.

Please/address all communications or donations as above, marked "Central
labour Bureau." <fitc

A CRUSADE' AGAINST "SWEATING."

WB PROPOSE TO ENTER UPON A CRUSADE AGAINST
"SWEATING." WILL YOU HELP US?

Dear Sir, — In connection with the Social Reform Wing a Central Labour
Bureau has been opened, qne department of which will deal especially with
that class of labour termed " unskilled," from amongst whom are drawn Board-
men, Messengers, Bill Distributors, Circular Addressers, Window
Cleaners, White-washers, Carpet Beaters, &c., &c.

It is very important that work given to these workers and others not enumer-
ated, should be taxed as little as possible by the Contractor, or those who act
between the employer and the worker.

In all our operations in this capacity we do not propose to make profit out of
those we benefit ; paying over the whole amount received, less say one halfr
penny m the shilling, or some such small sum which will go towards the
expense of providing boards for " sandwich " boardmen. the hire of barrows,
purchase of necessary tools, &c., &c.

We are very anxious to help that most needy class, the " boardmen," many of
whom are " sweated " out of their miserable earnings ; receiving often as low as
one shilling for a days toil.

We appeal to all who sympathise with suffering humanity,
especially Religious and Philanthropic individuals and Societies, to assist us in
our efforts, by placing orders for the supply of Boardmen, Messengers, Bill-
distributors, Window-cleaners and other kinds of labour in our hands. Our
charge for " boardmen " will be 2s. 2d., including boards, the placing and proper
supervision of the men, &c. Two shillings, at least, will go direct to the men ;
mos* of the hirers of boardmen pay jthis, and some even more, but often not
more than one-half reaches the men.

We shall be glad to forward you further information of our plans, or will send

a representative to further explain, or to lake orders, on receiving notice from

you to that effect.

Believe me to be,

Yours faithfully, etc

mmm

xvl

APPENDIX.

CENTRAL LABOUR BUREAU.

TO THE UNEMPLOYED.-— MALE AND FEMALE.
NOTICE.

A Free Registry, for all kinds of unemployed labour, has been opened at the
above address.

If you want work, call and make yourself and your wants known.

Enter your name and address and wants on the Registers, or fill ap form
below, and hand it in at above address.

Look over the advertising pages of the papers provided. Tables with pens
and ink are provided for you to write for situations.

If you live at a distance, fill up this form giving all particulars, or references,
i^nd forward to Commissioner Smith, care of the Labour Bureau.

Name.

Address^

Kind of work wanted.

Wages you ask.

THE LABOUR BURP.AU.

XVIf

ened at the

ill op fom

with pens

references,

Name.

Age.

During past lo years have you
had regulat employment ?

How long for?

What kind of work ?

What work can you do ?

What have you worked at at
odd times ?

How much did vou earn when
regularly employed ?

How much did you earn when
irregularly employed ?

Are you married?

Is wife living?

How many children and ages ?

It you were put on a Farm to
wotic at anything you could
do, and were supplied with
food,, lodging, and clothes.
with ^;)e view to getting you
on your tect, would you aoj
all you could ?

HOW BEGGARY WAS ABOLISHED IN BAVARIA BY COUNT

RUMFORD.

Count Rumford was an American officer who served with considerablo
distinction in the Revolutionary War in that country, and afterwards settled in
England. From thence he went to Bavaria, where he was promoted to the
chief command of its army, an<' also was energetically employed m the Civil
Government. Bavaria at this time literally swarmed with beggars, who were
not only an eyesore and discredit to the nation, but a positive injury to the
State. The Count resolved upon the extinction of this miserable profession,
and the following extracts from his writings describe the method by which he
accomplished it : —

" Bavaria, by the neglect of the Government, and the abuse of the kindness
and charity of its amiable people, had become infested with beggars, with whom
mingled vagabonds and thieve 0. They were to tlic body politic what parasites
and vermin are to people and dwellings — breeding by the same lazy neglect."

(Page 14.)

" In Bavaria there « ere laws winch made provision for the poor, bnt they

suffered them to fall into neglect. Beggary had become general. '

—(Page 15.)

" In short,*' saj's Count Rumford, " these detestable vermin swarmed every-
where ; and not only their impudence and clamorous importunity were bound-
less, but they had recourse to the most diabolical arts and the most horrid crimes
in the prosecution of their infamous trade. They exposed and tortured their
own children, and those they stole for the purpose, to extort contributions from
the charitable." -(Page 15.)

"In the large towns beggary was an organised imposture, with a sort ot
government and police of its own. Each beggar had his beat, with orderly
successions and promotions, as wUh other governments. There were battles to
decide conflicting claims, and a good beat was not unfrequently a marriage
portion or a thumping legacy." '^-—(Page 16.)

BY COUNT

oor, but they

|R0W^BEGaARY|WA8 ABOLISHED IN BAVAR|A.\ xtiT

*' He'^aw'that it was not enpugh to forbid beggaly by law or to punish it by
impriaonment. The beggars cared for neither. ..The energetic Yankee States-
man attacked the question as he. did problems in physical science. , He atudicd
beggary and beggars. How ^ould he deal with one individual beggar ? , Send
him.for a month to« prison to beg again as soon as he came out? That is no
remedy.'^-' The evident course was to forbid him to beg, but at the same time to
give htm the opportunity to labor ; to teach him to work, to encourage him to
honest industry. And the wise ruler sets himself to provide food, comfort, and
work for every beggar and vagabond in Bavaria, and did it."

-(Page )

" Count Rumford, wise and just, sets himself to reform the whole class of
beggars and vagabonds, and convert them into useful citizens, even those who
had sunk into vice and crime.

" ' What,' he asked himself, ' is, after the necessaries of life, the first condition
of comfort ?' Cleanliness, which animals and insects prize, which in man affects
his moral character, and which is akin to godliness. The idea that the soul is
defiled and depraved by what is unclean has long prevailed in all ages. Virtue
never dwelt long with filth. Our bodies are at war with everything that defiles
them.

" His first step, after a thorough study and consideration of the subject, was
(o provide in Munich, and at all necessai'y points, large, airy, and even elegant
Houses of Industry, and store them with the tools ^d materials of such manu-
factures as were most needed, and would be most useful. Each house was
provided with a large dining-room and a cooking rpparatus sufficient to furnish
an economical dinner to every worker. Teachers were engaged for each kind
of labour. Warmth, light, comfort, neatness, and order, in and around these
houses, made them attractive. The dinner every day was gratis, provided at
first by the Government, later by the contributions of the citizens. Bakers
brought stale bread ; butchers, refuse meat ; citizens, their broken victuals — all
/ejoicmg in being freed from the nuisance of beggary. The teachers of handi-
crafts were provided by the Governmei\t. And while all this was free, every-
one was paid the full value for his labour. You shall not beg ; but here is com-
fort, food, work, pay. There was no ill-usage, no harsh language ; in five years
not a blew was given even to a child by his instructor.

"When the preparations for this great pvperimcnt had been silently completed,
the army — the right arm of the governing power, which had been prepared for
th«> work by its own thorough reformation — was called into action in aid of the
police and the civil magistrates. Regiments of cavalry were so disposed as to
furnish every town with a detachment, with patrols on every highway, and squads
in the villages, keeping the strictest order and discipline, paying the utmost
deference to the civil authorities, and avoidiug all .offence to the people j

l^lXlBOilW-lil

ioi

APPENDIX.

-«-

instruetetf when the order was given to arrest every beggar, vagrant, and deserter,
and bring them before the magistrates. This military police cost nothing extrm
to the country beyond a few cantonments, and this expense to the whole cbuntry
was less than j£3,ooo a-year.

"The 1st of January, 1790—New Year's Day, from time immemorial the
beggars' holiday, when they swarmed in the streets, expectmg everyone to
give — the commissioned and non-commissioned officers of three regiments of
infantry were distributed early in the morning at diflerent points of Munich to
wait for orders. Lieutcnant-Gencral Count Rumford assembled at his residence
the chief officers of the army and principal magistrates of the city, and com-
municated to them his plans for the campaign. Then, dressed in the uniform
of his rank, with his orders and decorations glittering on his breast, setting an
example to the humblest soldier, he led them into the street, and had scarcely
reached it before a beggar approached, wished him a ' Happy New Year,' and
waited for the expected alms. ' I went up to him.' says Count Rumtord, ' and
laying my hand gently on his shoulder, told him that henceforth begging would
not be permitted in Munich , that if he was in need, assistance would be given
him ; and if detected begging again, he would be severely punished.' He was
then sent to the Town Hall, his name and residence inscribed upon the register,
and he was directed to repair to the Military House of Industry next morning,
where he would find dinner, work, and wages. Every officer, every magistrate,
every soldier, followed the example set them ; every beggar was arrested, and in
one day a stop was put to beggary in Bavaria. It was banished out of the kingdom.

" And now let us sec what was the progress and success of this experiment.
It seemed a risk to trust the raw materials of industry — wool, flax, hemp,
etc.— to the hands of common beggars ; to render a debauched and depraved
class orderly and useful, was an arduous enterprise. Of course the greater
number made bad work at the beginning. For months they cost more than
they came to. They spoiled more horns than they made spoons. Employed
first in the coarser and ruder manufactures, they were advanced as they im-
proved, and were for some time paid more than they earned — paid to encourage
good will, effort, and perseverance. These were worth any sum. The poor
people saw that they were treated with more than justice — with kindness. It
was very evident that it was all for their good. At first there was confusion,
but no insubordination. Thrywere awkward, but not insensible to kindness.
The aged, the weak, ind the children were put to the easiest tasks. The
younger children were paid simply to look on until they begged to join in the
wotk, which seemed to them like play. > Everything around them was
made dean, quiet^ orderly, and pleasant. Living at their own homes, they
I came ai^ fixed hour in the morning. They had at noon a liot,' nourishing dinner
ioX aoup a»d bread.^Provisiona were either contributed or bought wholeaale, and

MOW BEGGARY WAS ABOLISHED IN BAVARIA:

tn9

the economies of cookery were carried to the last point of perfection. . Count
Rumford had so planned the cooking apparatus that three women cooked a
dinner for one thousand persons at a cost, though wood was used, of 4|d. for
fuel ; and the entire cost of the dinner for 1,200 was only £t 7s. 6|d., or about
one-third of a penny for each person I Perfect order was kept— at work, at
meals, and eveiywhere. As soon as a company took its place at table, the food
having been previously served, all repeated a short prayer. ' Perhaps,' says
Count Rumford, ' I ought, to ask pardon for mentioning so old-fashioned 1
custom, but I own I am old-fashioned enough myself to like such things.'

" These poor people were generously paid for their labour, but something more
than cash payment was necessary. There was needed the feeling of emulation,
the desire to excel, the sense of honour, the love of glory. Not only pay, but
rewards, prizes, distinctions, were given to the more deserving. Peculiar care
ws%> taken with the children. They were first paid simply for being present,
idle lookers-on, until they begged with tears to be allowed to work. * How
sweet those tears were to me,' says Count Rumford, ' can easily be imagined.'
Certain hours were spent bv them in a school, for which teachers were
provided.

" The effect of these measures was very remarkable. Awkward as the people
were, they were not stupid, and learned to work with unexpected rapidity. More
wonderful was the change in their manners, appearances and the very expres-
SM>n of their countenances. Cheerfulness and gratitude replaced the gloom of
misery and the suUenness of despair. Their hearts were softened ; they were
most grateful to their benefactoi for themselves, still more for their children.
'These worked with their parents, forming little industrial groups, whose affec-
tion excited the interest of every visitor. Parents were happy in the int|)istry
and growing intelligence of their children, and the children were proud of their
OMm achievements.

" The great experiment was a complete and triumphant success. When Count
Rumford vnote his account of it, it had been five years in operation ; it was,
financially, a paying speculation, and liad not only banished beggary, but had
wrought an entire change in the manners, habits, and very appearance of the
most abandoned and degraded people in the kingdom."

- ("Count Rumford," pages 18-24.)

"Are the poor ungrateful? Count Rumford did not find them so. When,
from the exhaustion of his great labours, he fell dangerously ill, these poor
people whon: he had rescued from lives of shame and misery, spontaneously
assnnbled, formed a procession, and went in a body to the Cathedral to offer
their united prayers for his recovery. When he wa^ absent in Italy, and
supposed to be dangerously^iU in Naples, Jhey^set.apart a certain. tipe.sxEiy

P!W

!^\»«Jt,',.;r>K,';VR

^rtsBBsimm

I •

^^.n^, APPENDIX.

-^ ————————

day, after wot k hours, to pray for their benefactor. Aftur an absence of fifteen
ntonths, Count Rumford returned with renewed health to Munich— a city wheie
thtrre was work, for everyone, and not one person whose wants were not provided
for!l|;When he visited the military workhouse, the reception given him by these
poor' people drew tears from the eyes of all present. A few days after be
entertained eighteen hundred of them in the English garden- a festival at which
30^000 of the citizens of Munich assisted."

(" Count Rumford, pages 24-25.)

rd, pages 24-25.)

THE CO-OPERATIVE EXPERIMENT AT RALAHINE,

"The outrages of the 'Whitefeet,' 'Lady Clare Boys,' and 'Terry Alts'
(labourers) far exceeded those of recent occurrence ; yet no remedy but force
was attempted, except by one Irish landlord, Mr. John Scott Vandelcur, of
Ralahine, county Clare, late high sheriiTof his county. Early in 1831 his family
had been obliged to rake flight, ;n charge of an armed police TuiCe. and hi;^
steward had been murdered by one of the labourers, having been chosen by lot
at a meeting held to decide who should perpetrate the deed. Mr. Vandeleur
came to England to seek someone who would aid him in organising the
labourers into an agricultural and manufacturing association, to be conducted
on co-operative principles, and he was recommended to Mr. Craig, who, at great
sacrifice of his position and prospects, consented to give his services.

" No one but a man of rare zeal and courage would have attempted so
apparently hopeless a task as that which Mr. Craig undertook. Both the men
whom he had to manage — the Terry Alts who had murdered their masters
steward — and their surroundings were as little calculated to give confidence in
Ki^ success of the scheme as they well could be. The men spoke generally the
Irish language, which Mr. Craig did not understand, and they looked upon him
with' suspicion as one sent to worm out of them the secret of the murder
recently committed. He was consequently treated with coldness, and worse
than that. On one occasion the outline of his grave was cut out of the pasture
near his dwelling, and he carried his life in his hand. After a time, however, he
won the confidence of these men, rendered savage as they had been by
Ill-treatment.

•' The farm v/aa let by Mr. Vandeleur at a fixed rent, to be paid in fixed
quantities of farm produce, which, at, the prices ruling in 1830-31, would b'lng
in ;^900, which included interest on buildings, machinery, and live stork
provlied by Mr Vandeleur. The rent alone was ^700. As the farm consisted
of 618 bcres, only 268 of which were under tillage, this rent was a very high
one — a fact which was acknowledged by the landlord. All profits after payment
of rent and interest belonged to the members, divisible at the end of the year if
desired. ^S^^he^ tsrted a co-operative store to supply themselves with food and
clothing, and the^estate was managed by a committee of the members, who paid
ewry male and .iiemale member wages for their labour in labour notes which
nvere exchangeable at .the store for goods or cash.'^>IntoNicating drink or tobacco
IverepirohibUcifL Xhslcommittce.£acU da^allotted eachliiiaDjiis duties.-^ The

■JIJU..J Ji.

!Ea!

VBMP

I^P

1 I, I

I j

xxtv

APPCNDlX;

members worked the land partly as kitchen garden and fruit orchards, and
partly as daiiy farm, stall feeding being encouraged and root crops grown for
the cattle. Pigs, poultry, &c., were reared.. Wages at the time were only 8d
per day for men and 5d. for women, and the members were paid at these rates.
Yet, as they lived chiefly on potatoes and milk produced on the farm, which, as
well as mutton and pork, were sold to them at extremely low prices, they saved
money or rather n> >tos. Their health and appearance quickly improved, so much
so that, with disea» raging round them, there was no case of death or serious
illness among them tvhile the experiment lasted. The single men lived togethen
in a large building, and the families in cottages. Assisted by Mrs. Craig, the
secretary carried out the most enlightened system of education for the young,'
those old enoiigh being alternately employed on the farm and in the school.]
Sanitary arrangements were in a high state of perfection, and physical and
moral training were most carefully attended to. In respect of these and other
social arrangements, Mr. Craig was a man much before his time, and he has
since made himself a name in connection with their application in various parts
of the country.

"The 'New System, as the Ralahine experiment was called,' though 'at'fijrst
regarded with suspicion and derision, quickly gained favour in the district, so,
that before long outsiders were extremely anxious to become members of the
association. In Januaiy, 1832, the community consisted of fifty adults and
seventeen children. The total number afterwards increased to eighty-one.
Everything -was prosperous, and the members of the association were
not only benefited themselves, but their improvement, exercised a
beneficent influence upon the people in their neighbourhood. It was hoped
that other landlords would imitate the excellent example of Mr. Vandeleur,
especially as his experiment was one profitable to himself, as well as calculated
to produce peace and contentment in disturbed Ireland. Just when these hopes
were rafsed to their highest degree of expectancy, the happy community at
Ralahine was broken up through the ruin and flight of Mr. Vandeleur, who had
lost his property by gambling. Everything was sold off, and the labour' notes
saved by the members would have been worthless had not Mr. Craig, with noble
self-sacrifice, redeemed them out of his own pocket.

"We have given but a very scanty description of the system pursued at
Ralahine. The arrangements were in most respects admirable, and reflected
the greatest credit upon Mr. Craig as an organiser and administrator. ^Tu his
wisdom, energy, tact, and forbearance the success of his experiment was in
great measure due, and it is greatly to be regretted that he was not in !a
position to repeat the' attempt under more fav urable circumstances."

(" Histoiy of a CoK)perative^Fanc.")

I
prices, they saved

improved, so much'

CARLYLE ON THE SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS OF THE NATION

FORTY-FIVE YEARS AGO.
Inserted at the earnest request of a friend, who was struck by the coincidence of

some ideas, similar to those of this volume, set forth so long ago, but as yet

remaining unrealised, and which / had never read.

EXTRACTS FROM "PAST AND PRESENT."

"A Prime Minister, even here in England, who shall dare believe the
heavenly omens, and address himself like a man and hero to the great dumb-
struggling heart of England, and speak cut for it, and act out for it, the God s-
Justice it is writhing to get uttered and perishing for want of — yes, he too wL'l
see awaken round him, in passionate, burning, all-defiant loyalty, the heart of
England, and such a ' support ' as no Division-List or Parliamentary Majority
was ever yet known to yield a man ! Here as there, now as then, he who can
and dare trust the heavenly Immensities, all earthly Localities are subject to
him. We will pray for such a man and First-Lord; — yes, and far better, vc
will strive and incessantly make ready, eath of us, to be worthy to ser\'e ana
second such a First-Lord ! We shall then be as good a^ sure of his arriving ;
sure of many things, let him arrive or not.

" Who can despair of Governments that passes a Soldier's Guard-house, or
meets' a red-coated man on the streets? That a body of men could be got
together to kill other men when you bade them : this, d priori, does it not seem
one of the mipossiblest things ? Yet look, behold it : in the stoltdeSt of
Do-nothing Governments, that impossibility is a thing done."

— {Carlyle, " Past and Present, ' page 223.)

•' Strange, interesting, and yet most mournful to reflect on. Was this, then,
of all the things mankind had some talent for, the one thing important to learn
well, and bring to perfection ; this of successfully killing one another? Truly,
you have learned it well, and carried the business to a high perfection. I» is
incalculable what, by arranging, commanding, and regimenting you can make oil
men. These thousand straight-standing, Arm-set individuals, who shoulder
arms, who march, wheel, advance, retreat ; and are, for your behoof a magazine
charged with fiery death, in the most perfect condition of potentifil activity.
Few months ago, till the persuasive sergeant came, what were they ? Multiform
ragged losels, runaway apprentices, stan-cd weavers, thievish valets ; an entirely
broken population, fast tending towards the trpacUnill. But the persuasive
eor=faant came by ta^j of drum enlislcd or formed lists of them took hr»rtily

xxvl

APPENDIX.

! !

! I

*.i

to drilling them; and he, and you have made them this! Most potent
efiectual for all work whatsoever, is wise planning, firm, combining, and
commanding among men. Let no man despair of Governments who look on
these two sentries at the Horse Guards and our United Service clubs.' I could
conceive an Emigration Service, a Teaching Service, considerable varieties of
United and Separate Services, of the due thousands strong, all cifective as this
Fighting Service is ; all doing t/ui'r work like it — which work, much more than
fighting, is henceforth the necessity of thc^e row ages we are got into ! Much
lies among us, convulsively, nigh desperately, struggling to be bom"

■ {" Past and Present," page 224.)

' It was well, all tins, wc know ; and yet it was not well. Forty soldiers, I am
told, will disperse the largest Spitalfields mob ; forty to ten thousand, that is the
proportion between drilled and undrilled. Much there is which cannot yet be
organised in this world, but somewhat also which can — somewhat also Which
must. When one thinks, for example, what books are become and becoming
for us, what operative Lancashircs are become , what a Fourth Estate and
innumerable virtualities not yet got to be actualities arc become and becoming,
one stes organisms enough in the dim huge future, and 'United Services'
quite other than the redcoat one . and much, even in these years, struggling to
be born ! " -H" Past ana f resent," page 226.

" An effective ' Teaching Service,* I do consider that there must be ; some
education secretary, captain-general of teachers, who will actually contrive to
get us taught. Then again, why should tli^ rt- not be an • Emigration Service,'
and secretary with adjuncts, with funds, forces, idle navy ships, and ever-
increasing apparatus, in fine an effective system of emigration, so that at length
before our twenty years of respite ended, every honest willing workman who
found England too st^uit, aiid the 'organisation of labour' not yet sufficiently
advanced, might iind likewisc'^a bridge built to carry him into new western
landti, there to 'organise' with more elbow room some labour for himself?
I'hcre to be a real blessing, raising ni-w corn for us, purchasing new webs and
hatchets from us ; leaving us at least in peace ; instead of staying here to be a!
physical-force Chartist, unblessed and no blessing 1 Is it not scandalous to con-
sider that a Prime Minister could raise within the year, as I have seen it done, a
hundred and twenty millions sterling to shoot the French ; and we are stopped
short for want of the hiindri'dth part of that to keep the English living? The
Uodi«9 of the English liviug, and the souls of the English living, these two
'^rvtew^' an J^tiration Service and an Emigration Service, these with others,
will have actually tu be orgapiHeil.

|^A free bridge lur emigrants! Why, we should then be on a par with America
itSM^ir, the must favoured of all lands that have no government; and wc should
lia\*^^ besides, so many,, traditions uud mementos ..^ uf priceless tbinuh wlii«'h

this f Most potent
■m, combining, and
tncnls who look on
rviceclub8.j I could
derable varieties «)f
:, all effective as this
K much more than
ire got into! Much
6e born:*

2sent," page 224.)
Forty soldiers, I am
housand, that is the
liich cannot yet be
newhat also Which
me and becoming
F'ourth Estate and
)me and becoming.
'United Services'
ears, struggling to
sent," page 226.

? must be; some
tually contrive to
ligration Service,'
ships, and ever-
so that at length
workman who
yet sufficiently
to new western
>ur for himself?
new webs and
ing here to be aj
indTalous to con-
f seen it done, a
we are stopped
h living? The
ving, these two
■se with others,

r with America

und we should

thinubi wlili'fi

CARLYLE ON THE SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS.

xxvii

America has cast away. Wc could proceed deliberately to ' organise labour not
doomed to perish unless we effected it within year and day eveiy willing
worker that proved superfluous, finding a bridge ready for him. This verily will
have to be done ; the time is big with this. Our little Isle is grown
too narrow for us ; but the world is wide enough yet for another six thousand
years. England's sure markets will be among new colonies of Englishmen in all
quarters of the Globe. All men trade with all men when mutually convenient,
and are even bound to do it by the Maker of Men. Our friends of China, who
guiltily refused to trade in these circumstances — had we not to argue with them,
in cannon-shot at last, and convince them that they ought to trade ? ' Hostile
tariffs will arise to shut us out, and then, again, will fall, to let us in ; but the
sons of England — speakers of the English language, were it nothing more — will
in all times have the ineradicable predisposition to trade with England. Mycale
was the Pan-1-onian — rendezvous of all the tribes of Ion — for old Greece ; why
should not London long continue the All Saxon Home, rendezvous of all the
' Children of the Harz-Rock, arriving; in select samples, from the Antipodes
and elsewhere, by steam and otherwise, to the ' season ' here ? What a future !
Wide as the world, if we have the heart and heroism for it, which, by Heaven's
blessing, we shall.

" Keep not standing fixed and rooted,

Briskly venture, briskly roam ;
Head and hand, where'er thoti foot it,

And stout heart are still at home.
In what land the sun does visit

Brisk are we, what e'er betide ;
To give space for wandering » it

That the world was made so wide.

"Fourteen hundred years ago it was a considerable ' Emigration Service,* never
doubt it, by much enlistment, discussion, and apparatus that we ourselves
arrived in this remarkable island, and got into our present difficulties among
others. " -(" Past and Preserit," pages 228-230.) I

" The main substance of this immense problem pf organising labour, and first
of all of managing the working classes, will, it is very clear, have to be solved
by those who stand practically in the middle of it, by those who themselves
work and preside over work. Of all that can be enacted by any Parliamemt in
regard to it, the germs must already lie potentially extant in those two classes
who are to obey such enactment. A human chaos in which there is no light,
you vainly attempt to irradiate by light shed on it ; order never can arise there."

— (" Past and Present," pages 231-52.)

/' Look around you. '. Your world-hosts are all in mutiny, in confusion, destitu-
tion ; on the eve of fiery wreck and madness. They will not narch farther for
you, on the sixpence a day and supply-and-demand principle : they will not; nor
ought they ; nor can they. Ye shall reduce them to order ; begvi.'reducing' them

^xxvii>

APPENDIX.

! i

to order, to just subordination ; noble loyalty iu return for noble guidance.
Their souls are driven nigh mad ; let yours be sane and never saner. -Not as a
bewildered bewildering mob, but as a firm regimented mass, with' real captains
over them, will these men march any more. All human interests, combined
human endeavours, and social growth in this world have, at a certain stage of
their development, required organising; and work, the greatest of human
interests, does not require it.

" God knows the task will be hard, but no noble task was ever easy. This task
will wear away your lives and the lives of your sons and grandsons ; but for
what purpose, if not for tasks like this, were lives given to men? Ye shall
cease to count your thousand-pound scalps ; the noble of you shall cease I Nay,
the very scalps, as I say, will not long be left, if you count only these. Ye shall
cease wholly to he barbarous vulturous Choctaws, and become noble European
nineteenth-century men. Ye shall know that Mammon, in never such gigs and
flunky ' respectabilities ' in not the alone God ; that of himself he is but a
devil and even a brute-god.

*' Difficult ? Yes, it will be difficult. The shurt-fibre cotton ; that, too, was
difficult. The waste-cotton shrub, long useless, disobedient as. the thistle by
the wayside; have ye not conquered it, made it into beautiful bandana webs,
white woven shirts for men. bright tinted air garments wherein flit goddesses ?
Ye have shivered mountains asimder, made the hard iron pliant to you as putty ;
the forest-giants — marsh-jotuns — bear sheaves of golden grain ; \£gir — the
Sea-Demon himself stretches his back for a sleek highway to you, and on
Firehorses and Windhorses ye career. Ye are most strong. Thor, red-bearded,
with his Llue sun-eyes, with his cheery heart and strong thunder-hammer, he
and you have prevailed. Ye are most strong, ye Sons of icy Nurth,' of the far
Kast, far marching from your rugged Eastern Wildernesses, hitherward from the
gray dawn of Time ! Ye are Sons of the /<)///«-land ; the land of Difficulties
Conquered. Difficult ? You must try this thing. Once try it with the under-
standing that it will and shall have to be done. Try it as you try the paltrier
thing, making of money I I will bet on you once more, against all Jotiins.
Tailor-gods, Double-barrelled Law-wards, and Denizens of Chaos whatsoever!"

— (" Past and Preserft," pages 236-37.)

» ' ■

"A question here arises: Whether, in some ulterior, perhaps not far-distant
stage of this 'Chivalry of Labour,' your Master-Worker may not find it
possible, and needful, to grant his Workers permanent interest in his enter-
prise and theirs? So that it become, in practical result, what in essential
act and justice ' it ever,, is, a joint -enterprise ; ..all men,-^- from ■- the
Chief Master down to the lowest Overseer and Operative, ecor^omically
well as loyally concerned for it ? Which question I do not 'answer.
The anaweri.liei;c«oULelsc&.far,^is gerhaps, Yes; and yet^onc^knoj^^sithe.

ijfWRIS

-\a

br noble guidance,
er saner. .Not as a
, witlireal captains
interests, combined
a certain stage of
greatest of human

^creasy. This task
grandsons ; but for
o men? Ye shall
shall cease I Nay,
ly these. Ye shall
e noble European
ever such gigs and
mself he is but a

)n ;; that, too, was
as the thistle by
ful bandana webs,
in flit goddesses ?
t to you as putty ;
[rain ; iEgir— the
' to you, and on
hor, red-bearded,
nder-hammer, he
North, of the far
lerward from the
lid of Difficulties
with the under-
u try the paltrier
iinst all Jotuns.
IS whatsoever ! "
pages 236-37.)

i not far-distant
lay not find it
St in his enter-
lat in essential
en,S:- from ; the
;, econ^omically
o not ^answer,
nc^knoi^aith^'

!■ ;■■. t'-.t
••■-\ , ■

,!\ ..

"(*•

■*!.•:■■

*: ■,:.

vase

CARUyLE ON THE SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS?. i^^^^y

JDespotism is essential in most enterprises ; I am toV! they do not

!^dom of debate on board a seventy-four. Republicun senate and

}uld not answer well in cotton mills. And yet, observe there too/

lot nomad's or ape's Freedom, but man's Freedom; this is indis^

<We must have it, and will have it ! To reconcile Despotism with

veil, is that such a mystery ? Do you not already know the way ?

ke your Despotism Jus/., Rigorous as Destiny, but just, too, as

. rits Laws. The Laws of Qod; all men obey these, and have no -

It all but in obeying them2 The way is already known, part of the

mrage and some qualities are needed for walking on it."

— (" Past and Present," pages 241-42.)

y-game is this man's life, but a battle and a march, a warfare with

and powers. No idle promenade through fragrant -orange-groves

oweiy spaces, waited on by the choral Muses and r66y Hours'. It

primage through burning sandy solitudes., through regions of 'thick-

'He walks among men, loves men with inexpressible soft pity, as

ove him, but his soul dwells in solitude in the uttermost parts of

, green oases by the palm-tree wells he rests a space, but anon he

.py forward, escorted by the Terrors and the Splendours, the Arch-

' Archangels; All Heaven, all Pandemonium are his^ escort. The

ancing from the Intensities send tidings to him ; the'graves, silent

ad, from the Eternities. Deep calls for him unto Deep."

: -(" Past and Present," page 249.