3 14- LIBRARY 
 
 b | 4" | OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 GEORGE MOREY RICHARDSON. 
 
 Fi 
 
 .^Accession 
 
 Received, ^August, 1898. 
 Class No. 
 
LESSER QUESTIONS 
 
Lesser Questions 
 
 BY 
 
 LADY JEUNE 
 
 
 ! O R A , j> y~ 
 
 OF THK 
 
 UNIVERSITY } 
 ^ 
 
 REMINGTON AND CO., LIMITED 
 
 15, KING STREET, COVENT GARDEN, LONDON 
 
 AND SYDNEY 
 
 1894 
 
 AH Rights Reserved 
 
, 
 
 33 
 
Trrri 
 
 ^RSITY 
 
 , F Q RN\* 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 INTRODUCTION - i 
 
 A HIGHLAND SEER & SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS 13 
 LONDON SOCIETY - .38 
 
 DINNERS AND DINERS - - 61 
 
 CONVERSATION - 75 
 
 THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS - 85 
 
 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY ^ \ - 100 
 
 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS - - - 124 
 
 THE CRINOLINE - 143 
 
 HELPING THE FALLEN - 156 
 
 SAVING THE INNOCENT - - 181 
 
 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN - 201 
 
 THE HOMES OF THE POOR - - 223 
 
 THE SALVATION ARMY 246 
 
 THE DOMESTIC SERVANT - - 262 
 
 THE CREED OF THE POOR - - 273 
 
CRSITY 
 Of 
 
 LESSER QUESTIONS. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 If there were a Rip Van Winkle of this century, the 
 space of his slumbers would appear to him revolutionary. 
 If we review the changes which have come over Eng- 
 land since the beginning of the reign of George IV., 
 we shall find much to awaken surprise. It is true 
 that we regard the early part of this century with much 
 less interest, perhaps, than any other time in the 
 annals of our country ; true, also, that we know less of 
 the immediate past than of less close times, the records 
 of which form part of our education. The Reformation, 
 the Revolution, the great struggle for supremacy be- 
 tween us and the French, and our ultimate victory, the 
 independence of America, and the political strifes of 
 the early days of the century, are affairs with which 
 every English person, well-educated or ill-educated, 
 is more or less accurately acquainted ; but for most 
 of us the history of England ceases, or becomes 
 
2 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 shadowy, with the passing of the first Reform 
 Bill. It is surely true, however, that no time has 
 been so full of interest, so replete with events and 
 discoveries which have influenced the character 
 of our people and the trend of our history, than 
 the last sixty years. The great political struggle was 
 over. Reform changed the polity of the country. 
 Our industrial system had been newly equipped with 
 steam practically applied. We need not now enter 
 into any of the profound causes which influenced our 
 life and country and have brought about the complex 
 problems of our modern life. Still, it may be inter- 
 esting to indicate some of the contrasts between now 
 and eighty years ago. The whole gigantic system of 
 railways in England, the development of the Press, 
 the cheapening of every article of daily want, the 
 application of machinery to industrial works, these 
 are a few of the momentous changes. That which has 
 affected us more than any other was the introduction of 
 railways : in the facility they gave for rapid communi- 
 cation and for bringing every part of the country 
 into personal contact with the others. 
 
 Although attempts to open a railway between Man- 
 chester and Liverpool were made in 1824, it was not 
 until 1830 that the design was accomplished, and some 
 years elapsed before the English Railway System 
 became a fait accompli. In 1847 ^ ie fever of railway- 
 making speculation reached its height. From that day 
 the whole system of English life and habit has been 
 changing. The importance of London has grown enor- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 3 
 
 mously. Many a large town which was the centre of an 
 important society has sunk into a decayed gentility, while 
 young competitors have risen in industrial enterprise. 
 Until the development of railways brought London 
 into close contact with other parts of the Kingdom, 
 there were large societies in many parts ; and these 
 societies, as I shall show by-and-bye, were not unim- 
 portant. They have disappeared, and the cause is 
 obvious. When we can go from John O'Groat's House 
 to London and back for 7, it is unnecessary to point 
 out how the discovery of steam and the development 
 of railways have revolutionised our life. It only needs 
 a glance through the pages of a foreign Bradshaw to 
 see how rapidly and cheaply we may reach the farthest 
 corner of the world. The world can be girdled in 
 eighty days. It hardly seems possible that communi- 
 cation can become more rapid or more searching ; but 
 anyone prophesying these things a hundred years ago 
 would have been deemed a madman. 
 
 The question whether this rapid communication is an 
 unmixed blessing is too large for discussion here. 
 There are a few persons who still say that railway 
 travelling, telegraphs, and letters, are the bane of life ; 
 and that nowhere, how remote soever may be their 
 retreat, are they protected from the destroyers of their 
 daily peace. It is difficult to realise what the world 
 was like in the old days. Theoretically, it may have 
 been more peaceful and more picturesque, and certainly 
 there was not the feverish desire for movement and in- 
 formation which now pervades the country. Repose 
 
 B 2 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 is gone, never to return. Many people live in the 
 train business men and persons of leisure alike. 
 Everybody wants change ; life cannot be stagnation ; 
 and so the ebb and flow goes on. It would be 
 difficult to find anyone in London who had never 
 been in the country or to the sea ; and the number of 
 country people, even among the labouring classes, who 
 have not been to London is rapidly decreasing. The 
 most lovely places in England are desecrated by 
 hideous advertisements, because the railway train 
 hurrying on bears the probable buyer of the 
 nostrum prepared by the enterprising trader ; and 
 many other kindred things are signs of the 
 ubiquity of the railroad. In the far north of 
 Scotland, thirty years ago, the post arrived every 
 other day only, and papers were three days old. 
 News travelled slowly, and if it was not convenient to 
 send for letters they lay at the post office for some 
 days. The post now arrives twice daily, and we have 
 our newspapers in time for breakfast next morning. All 
 the country is affected similarly ; but let any one anxious 
 to see one of the most remarkable sights of the day go 
 to any of the large termini and watch the departure of 
 a newspaper train in the early morning. The huge 
 monster dashes on, carrying news of the debates in the 
 Houses of Parliament, and details of the last murder, 
 and sporting intelligence, and information on many 
 other public matters, which an exacting people insist 
 on having with their breakfast. The rapidity with which 
 we get full details of any public event, quite apart from 
 
INTRODUCTION. 5 
 
 the earlier telegraphic intelligence, contrasted with the 
 long period which elapsed, formerly, before anything 
 more than the bare facts were known, is extraordinary. 
 The news of the great battles at the end of the last cen- 
 tury and the beginning of the iQth were days in reach- 
 ing us. That great engagements were pending was 
 known ; but there was exciting delay, and often imperfect 
 information before the full facts could be ascertained. 
 The Crimean War, which many of us remember, forms 
 a contrast to the later campaigns in which England has 
 been engaged, when the first intelligence, flashed by 
 the electric telegraph, has been succeeded rapidly by the 
 detailed account of the incidents of the battle. The 
 despatches with the news of the victory at Waterloo 
 were brought by carriage from Dover to London ; and 
 the papers containing the debates on the passing of 
 the Defence Bill were taken down the country by 
 the coaches, which were the only means of locomotion 
 for such goods. The late Mr. Bright used to say 
 that one of the most exciting and rapid journeys 
 from Edinburgh to London was made by the coaches 
 containing the advance copies of the Waverley 
 Novels, whose arrival was watched for by anxious 
 crowds at various stations on their journey, where 
 the numbers consigned to the local booksellers were 
 thrown out as the coach drove rapidly on. Now the 
 modern novel, or any work of public interest, leaves Lon- 
 don by night mail, and is delivered at its destination 
 within a >few hours. Do we enjoy our literary feasts 
 as much as the crowds who hungered for the pages of 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Waverley and Ivanhof and read them after longing 
 and waiting hours for the lumbering coach to deliver 
 its burden ? It is not only as regards letters, papers, 
 books, and so on, that one's wants are ministered unto. 
 The necessaries and the luxuries of life are now within 
 the reach of everyone who can afford them. The 
 flowers of the Riviera decorate one's tables ; the 
 daffodils and the narcissus of the Channel and the Scilly 
 Islands are gathered for us long before the whisperings 
 of the English Spring are heard; America and our 
 distant colonies give us canvass-backed ducks ; we 
 have grouse from Norway, salmon from Canada, 
 Australian mutton, New Zealand butter and eggs, 
 Indian wheat, and fruit from the West Indies. We 
 are left with not much scope for home production. The 
 English farmer must needs exercise great patience. 
 No sooner does he establish a new culture than it is 
 destroyed by the foreign competitor, and his satisfac- 
 tion at the convenience with which he gets his 
 goods to market must be considerably mitigated 
 by the facilities which easy locomotion offers to his 
 rivals. 
 
 The ease and the luxury which we see on every 
 hand are the result of the facility and cheapness 
 with which everything that the most fastidious and 
 exacting person can require is placed within his 
 reach. The increase of theatres in London, of con- 
 cert halls, of all places of amusement, is the result of the 
 easy railway communication between it and the suburbs : 
 the crowded audiences of popular plays, or operas, 
 
INTRODUCTION. j 
 
 are as much drawn from the distant suburbs as from 
 the Town itself. The endless curiosity, the conscious 
 feeling that everyone is so much -nearer every other 
 than formerly, and the almost complete obliteration of 
 distance, or the feeling of distance, are the distinctive 
 outcomes of this state of things. People compare the 
 suburbs with streets, and now trains are run to enable 
 the dwellers in Norwood and in Clapham " to delight 
 their eyes by going and taking part in the Church 
 Parade." The amusements of life are, at first sight, not 
 an important element in the question ; but the amuse- 
 ments of a people are nearly the best test of their 
 social and moral condition, and no one can deny that 
 the changes which have come over England in those 
 respects in the last fifty years are very great. Thirty 
 years ago there were fewer theatres, and prices were 
 much less ; but the houses, with one or two excep- 
 tions, were empty, and in a very poor financial condi- 
 tion. Now, with the enormous increase in the number 
 of places of amusement and a distinct increase in the 
 prices of seats, theatres, concert halls, and music halls, 
 are crammed ; and if we ask where the audiences 
 come from, and go to Waterloo, or to Victoria, or 
 to Charing-Cross Station, and watch the departure of 
 the midnight trains, we get our question answered. 
 The facility of locomotion has revolutionised business 
 life in England. A City man formerly had his house of 
 business in London, in Manchester, in Liverpool, where- 
 ever his work lay ; his movements were necessarily con- 
 fined within that place. Now a man can breakfast in 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 London, go to Manchester (a distance of 184 miles), 
 spend some hours there, and return in time to dine in 
 London. Hunting men can leave London early in the 
 morning, have their day's sport, and be back in time 
 for dinner. We can dine in London and breakfast in 
 Dublin. In short, we can go almost anywhere now 
 in little over twelve hours. Rapid as our travelling 
 is, we are hard-pressed by the Americans, who, from 
 the great distances to be traversed, carry their com- 
 missariat with them. Their great trains to the Far 
 West are huge moving towns. We read of 70 miles 
 an hour as maximum speed ; and the chronograph 
 will register sometimes as much as 80 or 82 miles. 
 Whether such a speed can be exceeded is as yet a 
 problem ; but the present rate of covering distance is 
 stupendous. 
 
 Can we wonder, when we realise what a mar- 
 vellous change this easy locomotion is, that it has 
 reformed all the conditions of life ? The restless 
 activity of the people is increasing, and no one can 
 remain long in one place. Tired of exploring our own 
 .country, we wander forth abroad, even to the antipodes. 
 The numbers of those who go to America, to India, to 
 Australia, are increasing yearly. The North Pole and 
 the South have, up till now, withstood the onslaught 
 of the railway and the telegraph ; but he would be a 
 bold man who should predict how long they are 
 likely to remain isolate. Soon the enterprising Mr. 
 Cook may lead his followers over the frozen glaciers 
 and the untrodden snows of the mysterious lands. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 How far are we better off, or happier, in the new 
 life that w r e live in ? Have we gained in the change 
 from the peace, tranquillity, and dignity, of the past, 
 to the ceaseless action of to-day ? 
 
 The advantages are so obvious that the question 
 seems hardly worth discussing. There are only a few 
 who would maintain that life to-day is not easier, 
 pleasanter, and more full of interest, than it was 
 fifty years ago. Some dignity, reverence, romance, 
 has disappeared. We are in an age of publicity. 
 Nothing is private ; nothing sacred. The most 
 intimate events of life are the property of the en- 
 terprising interviewer, and the higher our position the 
 more are our lives and all that concerns us the property 
 of the public. In fact, any attempt to preserve incognito 
 is deeply resented. All the entertaining details of life 
 are so much " copy " with which to appease the appetite 
 of the public. The struggle for everything existence, 
 fame, enjoyment is keen, and it is waged more keenly 
 from year to year. The standard is higher, the pressure 
 more intense ; therefore, the gifts which enable us to 
 attain success are of higher quality. The diffusion 
 of knowledge is more general ; but whether the know- 
 ledge be profound is another matter. The levelling-up 
 process, which improved education has set going, 
 may raise the standard ; but it may also tend to 
 create a drear level of mediocrity. Greater hap- 
 piness, a larger measure of success, is attainable by a 
 very much larger portion of the community ; and we 
 must not look too closely at the standard of excellence, 
 
io INTRODUCTION. 
 
 but content ourselves with the hope that we are 
 nearing the goal of the modern idealist and finding the 
 greatest happiness among the greatest number. Per- 
 haps, in the past, when philosophers surveyed the 
 world, and the complex questions of life, from a higher 
 intellectual standpoint, they were able to attain a higher 
 conception of perfection than we are, who rub shoulders 
 with every class of the community. With our lesser 
 knowledge and our greater humility, we accepted their 
 teachings and their standard of what life oughe to be, 
 and listened to the truths they propounded, with the 
 awe and respect our latter-day independence has swept 
 away. How can anyone be wiser than another? The 
 problems of the world, with their endless developments, 
 are no longer obscure, when we can see the Indian in 
 his inglorious degeneration, and watch the struggle 
 for supremacy among the black and the white races in 
 America, with our own eyes, and listen to the voices of 
 our distant children in the Parliaments . of the great 
 Australian Continent. When we are all brought into 
 such close personal contact, when we are almost on a 
 speaking acquaintance with the whole world, how can 
 we accept the older affirmations of philosophy without 
 dissent ? Can not we make our own deductions and 
 inductions from personal experience and observa- 
 tion ? Modern life does not lend itself to reflection. 
 The contemplative mind belonged to another age. 
 We live fast ; we know much ; and we seek to 
 cram all the emotions and excitements and amusements 
 of an age into the short space of our own life. The 
 
INTRODUCTION. n 
 
 intimate rapport into which we are brought with 
 every corner of the world, the ceaseless activity, and 
 the endless variety of life, leave us no leisure for rest or 
 meditation. This is a time when the vocation of most 
 people appears to be to secure the greatest possible 
 amount of pleasure and put the stern realities 
 of life aside. This does not, however, obliterate the 
 consciousness of the deeper responsibilities of life. 
 Side by side with it, one sees a passionate desire to 
 make life better, to those who suffer and want, among 
 some who have eagerly recognised the necessities of 
 those who are destitute, and the obligations which good 
 fortune imposes. Again, although the dogmatic beliefs 
 of religion are being discarded, and the spirit of liberal- 
 ism and doubt, which has impregnated our political and 
 social life, has attacked the stronghold of our faith, 
 there never was a time when a deeper religious feeling 
 pervaded the majority. Into the laughter and light of 
 our pleasure creep the shadow of sorrow and the con- 
 sciousness of the true realities of life ; into our hurried 
 day comes a deep yearning for rest. The world's 
 problems, its mysteries, its tragedies, are always with 
 us ; and in calmer and deeper moments they bring a 
 consolation, even a repose, growing out of their stern 
 permanence. That part of the world which is busy 
 with affairs is engrossed by realities which, howsoever 
 great their material value, are closing the portals of 
 imagination. We have lost romance and superstition. 
 In the quest after excitement, amusement, variety, we 
 have little time to enter that world of piety, love, and 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 sacrifice, which lies around us. Still, in the hurry and 
 scramble which the past fifty years have brought, we 
 can if we will, find peace in poetry and romance ; 
 whose influence must be good on us and on our time, 
 taking us out of engrossing material conceptions, and 
 placing temporalities in their own relation. There are 
 some, even now, who, when the days are ended, and the 
 silent night folds her wings over the busy world, wander 
 into the realms of imagination, and, in the land of 
 dreams, find something to soothe the longing for spiritual 
 consolation ; and in the finding (even, sometimes, in the 
 seeking) realise that nearly all our " burning questions " 
 are the mere fume and fret of time, which, necessarily, 
 is always, for the finite mind, at flood-tide. Each 
 decade has its alarums soothed in the indifference to- 
 wards them of the next, and we disquiet ourselves in 
 vain when we take our revolutions in manners seriously. 
 They are trivial and fleeting, after all : as we shall unani- 
 mously own when, in years to come, we are wrestling 
 with the Spirit of a new Age, in admiring awe at the 
 profundity of our own misgivings. 
 
1 
 
 A HIGHLAND SEER AND SCOTCH 
 SUPERSTITIONS. 
 
 The Lowlands have always been considered the 
 home of the fairy lore of Scotland. Sir Walter Scott 
 and Burns created a world of fairies and warlocks, and 
 invested them with all the interest which their versatile 
 imaginations could create. The Eildon Hills, the regions 
 by Melrose, Mofifat, and Abbotsford, were peopled by 
 spirits, the offspring of Scott's fancy ; and Burns 
 bestowed on his part of Scotland a progeny of the super- 
 natural. The Highlands, so far away and beyond the 
 reach of travellers, were an unknown world to the out- 
 side, while the savage character of the Highlanders 
 and their internecine feuds caused them to be considered 
 ignorant and destitute of any gifts of imagination or 
 poetry. That this belief should have existed is not sur- 
 prising. The Highlanders were shut up in their moun- 
 tain fastnesses, obliged to hold their lands by the right 
 of might, and often defeated, sometimes almost exter- 
 minated, during the wars between the clans. It was 
 difficult to imagine the probability of any development 
 among them of the softer influences that affected the 
 Lowlands. 
 
14 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 Nevertheless, as the country began to be opened up, 
 and the excitement following the Rebellions of 1 7 1 5 and 
 1745 subsided, it was discovered that there were not 
 only the same beliefs and superstitions as in the Low- 
 lands, but also an imaginative spirit that was no less 
 prolific. In the struggle for mastery among the clans, 
 some of the highest mental qualities, notably the feeling 
 of loyalty and devotion to the Chiefs, were developed. 
 The love of a child for its parent is not more intense than 
 this clannish affection ; and there is no story in history 
 more touching than that of the pains, perils, and tempta- 
 tions, endured by the Highlanders in their allegiance 
 to the House of Stuart. The qualities shown to be 
 possessed by these wild people would in a higher state 
 of civilization have produced very great men ; but 
 education was scanty, and we now see only the 
 simple grandeur of unswerving loyalty. The softer 
 side of the Highland nature sought an outlet in 
 supernatural beliefs, which were stimulated by the 
 romantic nature of the scenery and the gloomy climate. 
 Behind the mountain passes, shrouded among the mists 
 and rain, listening to the whistling wind, the fury of 
 the tempest, and the roar of the sullen thunder, the race 
 found a language in the pathos of the bagpipes. Even in 
 their war-songs and gathering-songs, we find the tender, 
 mournful strains. When the pipes summoned the 
 clansmen to battle, the echo of their music among the 
 hills fell on the air as a lament for those who would 
 never return. The same melancholy pervades all the 
 Celtic music. It expresses the deepest sorrow the 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 15 
 
 Highlanders have ever experienced, their grief over 
 the clearances sixty years ago, which stirred to the in- 
 most depths their hearts and imaginations. Great tracts 
 of country were depopulated, and the inhabitants sent 
 across the seas, in the interests, as the Highlanders 
 always believed, of the landlords. In the distant 
 antipodes, in the far-off wilds of Canada, where the 
 Highlanders have prospered, they still cling with all 
 the passionate devotion of their Celtic natures to the 
 memory of their homes. In the wild song and laments 
 of their fatherland they find utterance for feelings of 
 sorrow and longing that can never be eradicated. 
 
 The belief in fairies and brownies (brownies are the 
 more playful fairies) seems to belong more to the Low- 
 lands than to the Highlands. The character of the 
 people was softer, and the lighter superstitious beliefs 
 found a more fitting home there than in the Highlands. 
 The austere character of the Highlanders invested the 
 supernatural inhabitants of the glens and mountains 
 with something akin to their own dark nature. Thus, 
 the fairies and brownies of the Lowlands take in the 
 North the form of warnings that in gruesome guise 
 foretell misfortune. Every great family in the North 
 was believed to have a supernatural omen which ap- 
 peared before the death of any prominent member. 
 It varied in most cases ; but each family generally 
 received the same warning of death which was given 
 to its Chief. 
 
 Striking coincidences, no doubt, there have been, 
 important enough to convince a highly superstitious 
 
1 6 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 people. Among the Mackenzies, the Death Candle was 
 said to appear before the death of any leading member. 
 A large light arose in the sky, sailing slowly till it 
 arrived above the place where lived the person whose 
 death it predicted ; then it would slowly disappear in a 
 brilliant coruscation. In Tulloch Castle a Cold Hand 
 was laid on the face of the person who was to die. In 
 another family a White Owl presented itself when any 
 member was about to depart this life ; and in another a 
 Black Dog ; while on the west coast of the Highlands 
 an Old Woman, commonly called the " Gruagach," fore- 
 told the departure of some important member of the 
 family to which she belonged. 
 
 Second-sight is the supernatural gift most common, 
 and most revered, in the Highlands. It was possessed 
 by people of both sexes. The trance during which the 
 subliminal consciousness was aglow came at longer or 
 shorter intervals, of greater or less intensity. As a rule, 
 the gift was more largely possessed by women than 
 by men : the nervous and impressionable nature of 
 a woman made her the better medium. There are 
 so many well-known instances of witches in Scottish 
 history that we need not narrate any here. The belief 
 in witches and in their powers survived until quite 
 recently. Even at this present day, when all Scotland 
 seems given up to material interests, there are still 
 treasured up in many parts the traditions and sayings 
 of those who were supposed to possess the gift of open- 
 ing the book of fate. Fatal it was to all concerned. 
 It always brought enmity and misfortune to the Seer, 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 17 
 
 and his sayings were fraught with disaster to those 
 around him. The gloomy future, with its mysteries 
 and its pain, had a special interest to the Highlander, 
 who endeavoured to find in it an answer to the vague 
 riddles that perplexed his unquiet nature. 
 
 The most interesting figure in all the Scotch history 
 of prophecy and second-sight is one known only to 
 those who, from association or by family tradition, are 
 connected with him. That is the more remarkable in- 
 asmuch as his sayings and prophecies are the most 
 largely quoted in the Highlands. Some of them have 
 acquired a position which amounts to little less than a 
 religious belief. 
 
 Kenneth Mackenzie (or, as he is best known, Coin- 
 neach Odhar) was beyond all comparison the most 
 remarkable of the Highland Seers. His sayings have 
 been known throughout the Highlands for over a 
 hundred and fifty years. They were well known to Sir 
 Walter Scott, and some mention is made of them in 
 Lockhart's Life, especially in connection with the 
 prophecy that stamped Coinneach as the Prophet of his 
 day. He was born in the island of Lewis, and was all 
 his life closely connected with the family of the Earl of 
 Seaforth, then the great head of the clan, and one of 
 the most powerful chiefs of the time. At an early age 
 he settled on the mainland, in a cottage on the banks of 
 Loch Ussie, a short distance from Brahan Castle, the 
 home of his Chief. There are various traditions as to 
 his birth and the means by which he became possessed 
 of the gift of second-sight ; but the most generally 
 
1 8 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 received is that on one occasion he fell asleep on 
 the hill-side, and on awaking found on his breast a 
 small round white stone which gave him the power of 
 prophecy, and saved his life in several miraculous ways. 
 He occupied a comparatively humble position ; but, 
 being a man of some slight education and refinement, 
 he was much sought after by the great people who lived 
 in that part of the world, not only for his wonderful 
 knowledge, but for the gentle excellence of his life. 
 
 He came into personal contact with the wife of Lord 
 Seaforth, a haughty woman of violent and jealous 
 temper, who consulted the Seer when occasion arose, 
 and displayed great confidence in his counsel. Her 
 confidence proved fatal to the Seer. Lord Seaforth 
 had occasion to go to Paris after the Restoration of 
 Charles II., and he left Lady Seaforth in Scotland. 
 Becoming uneasy over his protracted absence, she 
 sent messages to Kenneth, bidding him come instantly 
 and give her tidings of her lord. Reluctantly obeying, 
 Kenneth made his appearance at the Castle ; and was 
 instantly summoned into the presence of the great 
 lady, who asked where Lord Seaforth was. Having 
 been told whither the Chief had gone, and saying that 
 he could find him, alive or dead, the Seer put the White 
 Stone to his eye, and assured Lady Seaforth that 
 her lord was well and happy. "But," asked Lady 
 Seaforth, " where is he ?" "That is not necessary for 
 your ladyship's knowledge," Kenneth answered. "Be 
 assured he is well." His assurances only increased 
 the curiosity and anxiety of Lady Seaforth, who pro- 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 19 
 
 ceeded from civility to threats. Kenneth at length 
 said, " Your lord is well and happy, and he is in a 
 fair chamber hung with fine tapestry, and there is a 
 bonnie lady with him, and he is on bended knees 
 before her, with her hand pressed to his lips." 
 
 The rage of Lady Seaforth knew no bounds. It 
 should have been directed against her husband ; but it 
 was poured on the head of the Prophet. The disclo- 
 sure had been made in public before many of her 
 friends and the retainers of the family. Enraged at 
 the outrage upon her having become known, she formed 
 a sudden resolution to destroy the Seer. Turning on 
 him with overpowering passion, reproaching him for 
 defaming the name of his great Chief, branding him as 
 a slanderer, she declared that there and then she would 
 take the most signal vengeance, and have him put to 
 death by the most ignominious means, that of being 
 burnt as a wizard. 
 
 No time was allowed for preparation ; no prayers for 
 forgiveness were heard ; and there was no opportunity 
 given for intercession. The Seer was led forth to 
 slaughter. Finding that all hope was gone, Kenneth 
 resigned himself to his fate ; and on his way to the 
 stake, before the enraged Countess, paused, and, draw- 
 ing forth his White Stone, uttered a prophecy about 
 the family of Seaforth. " I see into the far future, 
 and I read there the doom of my destroyer. Ere many 
 generations have passed, the line of Seaforth will 
 become extinct in sorrow. I see the last male of his 
 
 line both deaf and dumb. I see his three fair sons, all 
 
 c 2 
 
20 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 of whom he will follow to their grave. He shall sell 
 his gift lands, and no future Seaforth shall rule in 
 Kintail. A black-eyed lassie from the East, with snow 
 on her coif, shall succeed him .; she shall kill her sister; 
 and she shall be the last of the Mackenzies of Sea- 
 forth. In these days there shall be a daft Lovat and a 
 buck-tooth Chisholm, and they shall be the last direct 
 males of their line. When these things are, Seaforth 
 may know that his sons are doomed to death, and that 
 his broad lands shall pass away to the stranger, and 
 that his race shall be no more." 
 
 When Kenneth had uttered this uncomfortable pro- 
 phecy, he threw the White Stone away. Tradition says 
 it fell into a small well, from which there immediately 
 gushed a large spring, and spreading, formed the lake, 
 at the foot of Knockfarrel, called Ussie. From Brahan, 
 Kenneth was dragged by orders of Lady Seaforth, now 
 doubly distraught by his prophecies, to Chanory Point, 
 twenty miles distant, where he was burnt to death. 
 Lord Seaforth arrived at Brahan, shortly after Kenneth 
 had started on his last journey, and, on hearing of 
 what had occurred, rode fast-and-furiously to Fortrose, 
 in hope of averting the death of the wretched man ; 
 but he arrived only in time to see the embers of the fire 
 which had destroyed his devoted vassal. 
 
 Such, briefly, is the history of the man the fulfil- 
 ments of whose prophecies form some of the most 
 curious chapters in the history of supernatural affairs 
 in Scotland. It may be as well, before passing to 
 other prophecies he is said to have made, to trace the 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 21 
 
 fulfilment of the Seaforths' doom. The Countess 
 of Seaforth, to whom Kenneth owed his death, was the 
 daughter of Sir John Mackenzie of Tarbart, and sister 
 of the first Earl of Cromartie. She married Kenneth, 
 third Earl of Seaforth, who died in 1678, and was 
 succeeded by his son. During the Rebellion of 1715, 
 Lord Seaforth took the side of Prince Charles Edward, 
 was obliged to fly the country, and took refuge in 
 Spain. The titles and estates were forfeit to the 
 Crown ; but they were restored to him in 1/26, and he 
 lived in honour and wealth. The vicissitudes which 
 attended all powerful Highland families at that time 
 assailed the Seaforths ; but the family continued to 
 prosper. The ruin which the Rebellion of 1715 
 brought on many great families was retrieved in their 
 case, and restored possessions and honours preserved 
 the dignity of the family. Curiously, on the death of 
 the last Earl of Seaforth without a son, the family 
 possessions passed to his cousin, descended from the 
 sanguinary Countess ; and in his person, or, rather, in 
 the person of his brother, the prophecy of Coinneach 
 Odhar was accomplished. 
 
 Francis Mackenzie, Lord Seaforth, was a remarkable 
 man. He was possessed of great intellectual capacity ; 
 but became, from a bad illness contracted while at 
 school, deaf, and, as is not uncommon in such cases, 
 towards the end of his life, dumb. In spite of those 
 physical infirmities, he led a life of useful activity. 
 He raised a regiment at the end of the great war. He 
 was Governor of Barbados, and afterwards of Demerara 
 
22 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 and Berbice. He was a Lieut.-General in the army, 
 and in 1797 was created Baron Seaforth of Kintail. 
 There were, however, circumstances which must often 
 have made him feel ill at ease. He married happily 
 and well, and was blessed with three fine sons and six 
 daughters ; and round him on either side he saw his 
 neighbours, the two great contemporary chiefs of the 
 day, with the physical peculiarities mentioned by 
 Coinneach Odhar. However, the fatal truth was 
 forced on him, and on all those who remembered the 
 family prophecy, by events that filled his house with 
 sorrow. One after another, his three sons died. The 
 last, the eldest and most distinguished, was cut off in 
 youth. 
 
 The stricken father died in 1815, the last male of 
 his race. The great Seaforth estates were inherited 
 by his daughter, Lady Hood, whose husband, Admiral 
 Sir Samuel Hood, had, just before her father's death, 
 died in India. She returned from India in her widow's 
 weeds to take possession of her inheritance. She was 
 thus literally a white-hooded lassie (that is, a young 
 woman in widow's weeds) from the East. Lady Hood 
 married some years later Mr. Stewart, a grandson of 
 the Earl of Galloway, and lived in happiness on her 
 vast estates. After many years of prosperity, a 
 calamity overtook Mrs. Stewart Mackenzie. One 
 day, when she was driving her sister in a carriage, 
 the ponies took fright,' and started off at a furious pace 
 down a precipitous road. She and her sister were 
 thrown out. Mrs. Stewart Mackenzie recovered ; but 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 23 
 
 her sister, after lingering for days, died. As Mrs. 
 Stewart Mackenzie was driving at the time of the acci- 
 dent, she may, not inaccurately, be described as having 
 caused her sister's death : thus fulfilling a clause of 
 Coinneach's prophecy. 
 
 It is curious to note that the prophecy was not dis- 
 covered or developed contemporaneously or after the 
 events. It had been current in the Highlands for 
 generations, and the gradual fulfilment of the doom of 
 the Seaforths was watched with sorrow for more than 
 half-a-century. One curious instance of how firmly 
 rooted the belief in the prophecy was, occurred in 
 1812, when Lord Seaforth, in consequence of the mis- 
 management of his large West India estates, found 
 himself in such difficulties that he was constrained to 
 sell some of his property on the west coast of Ross- 
 shire, the lands of Kintail the " gift lands " (as they 
 were best known) the oldest possession of the family. 
 They had been granted to the common ancestor of the 
 Mackenzies, Colin Fitzgerald, one of the Geraldine 
 family in Ireland, an outlaw (tradition asserts) who 
 had taken refuge on the shores of Loch Duich, in 
 Kintail, in recognition of his having saved the life of 
 the King, Alexander III., out hunting. The King 
 gave him as reward a tract of land in the form of a 
 stag's head, which was commonly known as the " gift 
 lands " of the Seaforths. So firmly was the prophecy 
 believed in, when the tenants on the Kintail lands 
 heard of the necessities of their Chief, they subscribed 
 a sum of over ^"3000 among themselves, and sent it to 
 
24 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 Lord Seaforth, in the vain hope that it might lighten 
 his temporary embarrassment and avert the evil days. 
 Another evidence of the antiquity of the prophecy is 
 found in letters from the Countess of Seaforth, in 1722, 
 to her sister, Lady Arundel of Wardour, mentioning 
 the story and commenting upon it. 
 
 Thus we have two distinct proofs of the currency of 
 the prophecy fifty years before the Seaforth in whose 
 person it was fulfilled was born. Lockhart, in his 
 Life, says that " Mr. Morritt can testify thus fat- 
 that he heard the prophecy quoted in the Highlands at 
 a time when Lord Seaforth had two sons alive and in 
 good health, and that it was certainly not made after 
 the event ; " and Sir Walter Scott, in writing to Mr. 
 Morritt, says, " Our friend, Lady Hood, will now be 
 Caberfeigh herself. I do fear the accomplishment of 
 the prophecy that when there should be a deaf Caber- 
 feigh the house is to fall." Then, the stanzas in 
 which Sir Walter laments the extinction of the family 
 contain no more touching words than those in which 
 he alludes to the dramatic tragedies that clouded the 
 last days of the old Chief's life. 
 
 "Thy sons rose around thee in light and in love, 
 All a father could hope, all a friend could approve. 
 What Vails if, the tale of thy sorrows to tell, 
 In the spring-time of youth and of promise they 
 
 fell? 
 
 Of the line of MacKenneth remains not a male 
 To bear the proud name of the Chief of Kintail." 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 25 
 
 The prophecy has come true in its fullest and saddest 
 sense. Of the vast possessions of the Seaforths, only 
 a very small portion now belongs to the representative 
 of that once powerful family. 
 
 There are many prophecies relating to other families 
 in the North ; but there is none which is so detailed. 
 The buck-toothed Chisholm (a man with teeth in a 
 double row), the stammering Gairloch, the daft Grant, 
 and the harelipped Laird of Raasay, were well-known 
 subjects of Coinneach ; and, curiously, the representa- 
 tives of those four families at the time of the deaf 
 and dumb Seaforth were marked by the peculiarities 
 mentioned. 
 
 There are many of Coinneach's prophecies which, 
 devoid of the personal interest attaching to the Seaforth 
 seership, are none the less interesting. One well 
 known is that alluding to the opening of railways. 
 He said that " the day will come when long black 
 carnages without horses will go through the country 
 and cross the stance of the Muir of Ord;" and the 
 Highland Railway crosses the spot indicated. Another, 
 relating to the opening-up of the Highlands, is " that 
 the country will be crossed from sea to sea by white 
 bands;" which is evidently an allusion to the magnifi- 
 cent roads made through the North, after the battle of 
 Culloden, by General Wade and his army. A curious 
 coincidence was related to me by a lady who, soon after 
 her marriage, made an expedition into Kintail to see 
 the country. She was an English woman, and had 
 never heard of Coinneach and his prophecies. One 
 
26 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 day she was taken to the summit of a high hill in 
 Lochalsh by one of the MacRaes, a family of great 
 antiquity in Ross-shire, and one of the subject clans 
 of the Mackenzies. On arriving at the top she was 
 struck by the curious effect on the scenery of the great 
 roads which intersected the country on all sides, and 
 exclaimed to her companion, " O, Captain MacRae, 
 the country looks as if it were covered by white bands 
 of ribbon ! " To her surprise, the old man reverently 
 took off his hat, saying, softly, " Eh, my dear ! but 
 those are the very words that Coinneach Odhar himself 
 said over a hundred years ago ! " A prophecy relating 
 to a small well-wooded hill close to Inverness, called 
 Tomnahurich, " the hill of the fairies," is worth men- 
 tioning. "The day will come when Tomnahurich will 
 be kept under lock and key, and large ships shall sail 
 round or under its shadow." Some years ago the 
 Inverness people made a cemetery on Tomnahurich ; 
 gates have to be opened to admit visitors ; and the 
 Caledonian Canal now runs below the hill. 
 
 We may perhaps allow that some of the prophecies 
 were due not so much to supernatural knowledge on 
 Coinneach's part as to the conviction (which a man 
 of some intelligence and education could not help hav- 
 ing) that a hundred years must bring very important 
 changes into his country ; but, explain them as we 
 may, they are none the less curious coincidences. 
 Two other of Coinneach's prophecies will suffice. 
 " The estate of Fairburn shall be sold three times, and 
 the second time it shall be bought back by the Sea- 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 27 
 
 forths ; but before they buy it a cow shall calve in the 
 highest room in the Tower of Fairburn." The estate 
 of Fairburn, one of the oldest possessions of the Sea- 
 forths, was given to a younger son as a " wadset " (a 
 portion). For many years it continued in the possession 
 of the Mackenzies of Fairburn, who at last sold it to 
 a family in whose possession it remained a very 
 short time. On coming into the market again, it was 
 bought by the Hon. Mrs. Stewart Mackenzie of Sea- 
 forth, the representative of the Seaforth family. The 
 old castle of Fairburn was practically in ruins. It was 
 necessary to make repairs. While workmen were 
 engaged in them a cow contrived to ascend to the very 
 top of the tower by means of planks which had been 
 placed to enable them to ascend. She was so near 
 her time for calving, and the room into which she had 
 climbed was so large, that it was decided to let her 
 remain. She there gave birth to a calf. I remember 
 an old woman, who lived by the Tower of Fairburn, 
 assuring me that she had heard of the prophecy long 
 before the event. Sojourning near Inverness, Coinneach 
 crossed over what is now known as the battle-field of 
 Culloden. He is said to have exclaimed, " O, Drum- 
 rossie, thy bleak moor shall ere many generations have 
 passed away be bathed with the blood of the best and 
 noblest in the Highlands ! Glad am I that God will 
 spare me the sight of that day. For it will be a 
 terrible one. The proudest heads will fall, and no 
 mercy will be shown, or quarter given, on either 
 side." How true his words proved is known to all 
 
28 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 who have read the history of the last battle fought on 
 Scottish soil. 
 
 It will be observed that Coinneach's prophecies were 
 of a mournful nature. He possessed the power, ap- 
 parently, of reading only sad and disastrous futures. 
 His own tragic doom may unconsciously have in- 
 fluenced prevision for others. In none of his sayings 
 or prophecies do we find anything joyous or pleasant. 
 There is only one in which we discern a tinge of 
 humour. He says, in one of his songs, " The day will 
 come when the Lewis men shall go forth with their 
 hosts to battle ; but they will be turned by the jawbone 
 of an animal smaller than an ass. : ' This prediction 
 sounds ridiculous and incomprehensible to the last 
 degree ; yet it was fulfilled in a natural and very simple 
 manner. Lord Seaforth and the leading men of the 
 clan went "out " in 1715 and in 1719, and had their 
 estates forfeit. Only a few years before 1745 their 
 lands and honours were restored to Lord Seaforth and 
 to Mackenzie eleventh Baron of Hilton. The Rev. 
 Colin Mackenzie, Minister of Fodderty and Laird of 
 Glack, was the first in the neighbourhood to receive 
 news of the landing of Prince Charles Edward in 1745.. 
 Lord Seaforth had still the warmest feelings of attach- 
 ment to the Prince, which were shared by the minister, 
 who, although at heart a thorough Jacobite, was a great 
 personal friend of President Forbes. The minister 
 had been persuaded through that influence to remain 
 neutral ; and, fearing that his friend Seaforth on hear- 
 ing the news might be induced to join the Prince, he 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 29 
 
 started for Brahan Castle. Late at night he crossed 
 the hill of Knockfarrel, entered Seaforth's bedroom by 
 the window, and informed him of the Prince's landing. 
 They decided on getting out of the way, and both 
 immediately disappeared. Seaforth was known to have 
 been in regular correspondence with the Prince, and to 
 have sent private orders to the Lewis to have his men 
 there in readiness ; and his friend impressed on him 
 the necessity of getting out of sight for a time. They 
 started through the mountains in the direction of 
 Poolewe. Some days after, when in concealment near 
 the shore, they saw, entering the bay, two ships, 
 having on board many armed men, whom they recog- 
 nised as Seaforth's followers from the Lewis, com- 
 manded by Captain Colin Mackenzie. Lord Seaforth 
 had just finished dining, off a sheep's head, when he 
 espied his retainers. Approaching the ships with the 
 sheep's jawbone in his hand, he waved it towards them, 
 and ordered them to return to their homes at Stornoway ; 
 which command they obeyed. Coinneach's apparently 
 ludicrous prophecy was fulfilled. The brave Lewis 
 men had been turned back from battle by the jawbone 
 of an animal smaller than an ass. 
 
 There are many of Coinneach's prophecies still 
 running. They are all in the same strain. Most of 
 them refer to bloody battles to be fought between the 
 clans which in Coinneach's time were at variance. There 
 is one " that the ravens shall stand on the three large 
 stones at the south end of the Muir of Ord, and drink 
 of the blood of the Mackenzies and Macdonalds, which 
 
30 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 shall flow long and deep." There are similar prophecies 
 regarding places in Sutherlandshire and in the 
 Lewis. As to the Stone which gave Coinneach 
 the gift of prophecy, the received tradition is that it 
 lies at the bottom of Loch Ussie, and will remain there 
 until the man is born on whom the mantle of the 
 Prophet shall descend. The Prophet will be distin- 
 guished by physical peculiarities indicated by Coinneach, 
 and he will find the magic Stone in the inside of a pike. 
 It is asserted that a man possessing the peculiarities 
 did appear some years ago ; but the Stone has not yet 
 been found. 
 
 Some of the quaintest of Scotch superstitions are 
 those which pertain to Hallowe'en, when all the lads 
 and lassies, and older people, congregated at the shrine 
 of some Wise Woman to learn what Fate had in store 
 for them during the year. The most important ques- 
 tions generally related to affairs of the heart. The 
 oracle was consulted with seriousness, and delivered 
 her utterances with solemnity. Cutting an apple in 
 tw T o before a looking-glass, and watching with anxiety 
 and fear to see whose face peered over your shoulder ; 
 throwing a ball of thread out of the window, with the 
 question " Who holds ? " and sowing any kind of seed 
 in a dark corner of the garden, while repeating the 
 rhyme 
 
 " Hempseed I sew thee, 
 
 My true love to know thee : 
 
 Let he who is to marry me 
 
 Come after me and harrow this, 
 
tJiNTIVERSITY 
 AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS^ , 3 
 
 ==. 
 may seem to us to have been absurd usages ; but, when 
 
 we realize that the likeness or voice alternative to that 
 of the wished-for lover was his Satanic Majesty it is not 
 difficult to understand the terror with which young 
 women regarded the ordeal. The important part of the 
 evening's entertainment, however, was telling fortunes 
 by reading the future in the shapes which the white of 
 eggs assumed on being poured into a tumbler of water. 
 The person gifted with the power of prophecy held the 
 tumbler, while the person whose fortune was to be told 
 placed her or his hand over the glass ; and the whole 
 book of life was read from the fantastic forms in the 
 water. Very solemn in the firelight were the faces of 
 the listeners as the old wife foretold joy or sorrow, 
 prosperity or misfortune. The most profound belief 
 was accorded to her words. There was an Old Woman, 
 deceased only ten years ago, living near Strath- 
 peffer, in Ross-shire, who was supposed to possess 
 this special power of divination ; and on Hallowe'en 
 people flocked from all parts of the country to consult 
 her. I once took some English people to see her. 
 We had to come away with our curiosity ungratified. 
 She had such a levee of people waiting for her to solve 
 the riddles of their lives, she had no time to give to our 
 party. 
 
 In all the minor superstitions and beliefs, the Devil 
 played a very important part. He was always sup- 
 posed to be the influence that marred some promising 
 horoscope. The fairies, and smaller supernatural folk, 
 all gave way to the greater power, and on the night of 
 
32 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 Hallowe'en Satan had unhampered licence to pit himself 
 against Providence and Love. One superstition of 
 Hallowe'en, bearing the impress of the romantic melan- 
 choly so characteristic of the Highland character, is 
 practised only in very remote parts of the country. 
 The person who intends tempting the Spirits of Darkness 
 must steal out unobserved to a field whose furrows lie 
 due north and south, and, entering at the western side, 
 must proceed slowly over eleven ridges, and stand in 
 the centre of the twelfth. He will hear either sobs or 
 mournful shrieks, which predict speedy death ; or the 
 sounds of merriment and music, which foretell marriage. 
 This experiment was not popular, and was seldom tried. 
 Tradition told of girls who had gone out alone to make 
 it, and had returned bereft of reason. 
 
 The belief in the Church having power to counteract 
 the intentions of Evil Spirits had not much influence in 
 the Highlands. A Free Church minister in the Lewis, 
 Mr. MacRae, had, however, a curious story, which he 
 often narrated, of the manner in which the depreda- 
 tions in the Lewis in very early times had been stopped 
 by a priest, who went alone and confronted the great 
 golden-haired Princess from over the seas, half-woman 
 and half-witch, who was devastating the country. 
 She came no one knew whence, more beautiful and 
 glorious than the day, with golden hair covering her 
 from head to foot. A great host came with her, and 
 laid waste the country. No power could resist her. 
 After every man who attempted to stand against her 
 had been killed, the inhabitants appealed to the man of 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 33 
 
 God to see what holy help could do. Having, by 
 tryst, met the Enchantress on a high cliff above the 
 ocean on the wild coast of the island, he attempted to 
 induce her to quit the country ; but his entreaties were 
 unavailing. Scornfully, "she told him she would not 
 go while there was a man, or a woman, or a child, left. 
 His attempts at persuasion being useless, the wily 
 minister contrived to engage her in a fierce and angry 
 controversy ; she receding to the edge of the cliff, he 
 following her. Amid expostulations and entreaties, 
 the progress continued ; and the Princess found, too 
 late, that she had been driven on to a narrow point of 
 the cliff, some hundred feet above the sea, from which 
 there was no escape. Mad with passion, she hurled 
 herself on the minister, intending to kill him with the 
 spear she held in her hand ; but the holy man upheld 
 the Sign of the Cross, and the Enchantress, with a 
 shriek, which echoed through the island, fell backwards 
 over the rocks into the boiling waters at the foot of the 
 cliff; and her hosts had disappeared before the deliverer 
 of the island had returned to convey the joyful tidings 
 to his people. 
 
 Another story of the power of the Church over 
 spirits is told in Lochaber. The burial-ground of 
 Cillechoireal (or St. Cyril) is on a beautiful hill-top on 
 the mountain-side the very ideal of a peaceful resting- 
 place. Sleep there the Bard of Keppoch and the 
 mighty hunter, MacDonald. Time was when the 
 whole country was disturbed night after night by the 
 shouts of supernatural combatants. Those who in 
 
34 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 life had been enemies rose under the cloud of night to 
 renew their feuds, and the clash of claymores was heard 
 afar. The groans of the wounded, the cries of the 
 vanquished, and the fiendish laughter of the victors, 
 made the strongest hearts quake ; the fearful were 
 nearly dead with terror. At last, one stormy night, 
 matters came to a crisis. Women shrieked ; strong 
 men prayed and crossed themselves. Over and 
 above the noise of the raging elements the cries 
 of the demoniacal warfare rang. Some thought the 
 cause of the tumult was that a Protestant had been 
 buried there, and the sanctity of the consecrated 
 ground outraged. They implored the minister of 
 Kilmonivaig to remove the body. The minister, with 
 great caution, said that he thought it would be a pity 
 to remove a brave man who was evidently holding his 
 own against such a host, and refused to interfere. 
 Then it occurred to the people to get the ground re- 
 consecrated, and on this terrible night a man strong in 
 faith volunteered to go and fetch the priest. He 
 arrived safely at the house, and told his tale. The 
 priest, who was a very devout man, instantly set out 
 for the scene of the dreadful mule'c. In crossing the 
 river Spean the man carried the priest on his back. 
 Arrived on the farther shore, the priest took off one 
 of his shoes, and filled it with water, which he conse- 
 crated; and after many prayers set off alone to the 
 bury ing-ground, leaving the messenger in terror. In 
 that dark and lonely hour the priest entered the scene 
 of unholy warfare, and reconsecrated the ground 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 35 
 
 amidst the yells of the disappointed spectres. From 
 that day peace and silence reigned in CillechoireaL 
 "There at peace the ashes rest of those who once 
 were foes." 
 
 The belief in witches and witchcraft seems now to 
 have died away in the Highlands. In the very remote 
 districts we do still hear of bewitchment ; but the cases 
 are very rare. In the Autumn of 1858, we were living 
 in a small farmhouse on the shore of Loch Broom. An 
 old woman who lived in a broken-down ruined cottage 
 near us was reputedly a witch. She was one of 
 the most hideous hags I ever beheld, and, although 
 apparently harmless, was most vindictive. She con- 
 ceived a violent dislike to the cook, with whom she 
 quarrelled, and vowed she would be avenged for some 
 fancied insult. One day we were met by faces of great 
 consternation, and told that the woman had bewitched 
 the cows, which would give no milk. There was no 
 possibility of procuring milk elsewhere ; and, as the 
 difficulty of feeding small children was thus become 
 serious, it was considered best to appease the witch. 
 Some conciliatory measures were adopted, and the Old 
 Woman promised to repair the mischief she had done. 
 The cows were accordingly brought into the byre from 
 the hill-side ; and the hag, with a large black bottle con- 
 taining some mysterious fluid she had prepared, a bag 
 of simples, and her stool, was shut in with them. I 
 well remember being allowed to peep in at the window, 
 to see her sitting on her stool behind the cows, rock- 
 ing herself backwards and forwards, and crooning a 
 
 D 2 
 
36 A HIGHLAND SEER 
 
 weird song ; but it was only a glimpse, for every one 
 was enjoined to keep far away and leave her in peace. 
 At the end of about half-an-hour she appeared, assuring 
 us that the spell was removed, and that the cows would 
 soon be all right ; which they undoubtedly were, for in 
 the course of an hour or two they gave milk readily 
 and abundantly. The servants and neighbours be- 
 lieved devoutly that some supernatural power had been 
 invoked, and that the old hag was a medium. There 
 was a sceptical piper, however, who avowed that the 
 want of milk on that particular morning had been due 
 to a natural cause, and that had the cows been watched 
 while feeding on the hill-side a substantial fairy, the 
 Old Woman's daughter, might have been seen milking 
 them. That was the only doubt I ever heard cast on 
 what was considered a remarkable instance of witch- 
 craft. 
 
 It is curious to contrast the belief of the Highlanders 
 of the past with the scepticism of the race to-day. 
 There has been a marked change on the Highland char- 
 acter during the last fifty years. The blind devotion to 
 King and Chief, which made no task impossible, no sac- 
 rifice too great, has lapsed. The old families have died 
 away. The old territorial families and clans are 
 scattered, and we have in their place new races of 
 lairds and tenants. The causes are not far to seek. 
 The Rebellions of 1715 and 1745 had well-nigh ex- 
 hausted the resources of the country, and it longed to 
 be at peace. The last representative of the Royal 
 family of Scotland was a faineant, and unworthy of the 
 
AND SCOTCH SUPERSTITIONS. 37 
 
 blood spilt for him. The English Government, wisely 
 in the end, but cruelty at the time, determined to 
 stamp out all feelings of nationality that were left. It 
 succeeded. As the country became opened up, and 
 southern influences were brought to bear on the High- 
 landers, they accepted civilized conditions of life, and 
 turned their energies into fresh directions. The clear- 
 ances for deer forests and sheep farms, and the emigra- 
 tion which followed, broke the last link in the feudal 
 chain. The Highlanders' Chief became only their land- 
 lord, and ceased to be their Father. The Highlanders 
 are wealthier, more prosperous, and perhaps more con- 
 tented ; but the spirit of their poetry is dead, and all 
 that gave romance to Scottish life is gone. We have 
 sad evidence of this when we look upon the ruined 
 sheilings, w r hich tell of the fulfilment of Coinneach's 
 prophecy that " the day will come when the big sheep 
 and deer will overrun the country till they shall strike 
 the Northern Sea." 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 It would be difficult to point exactly to the begin- 
 ning of the change which has been gradually trans- 
 forming London Society ; but the death of the Prince 
 Consort and the withdrawal of the Queen from public 
 life certainly mark an epoch. The long mourning and 
 seclusion of the Court was really the abdication of the 
 Queen as the visible head of Society. Since then the 
 social revolution has been advancing, and the few 
 gatherings which the Queen honours by her presence 
 indicate vividly the change of which we have spoken. 
 No one other than those whom she knows or expresses 
 a desire to see is brought into personal contact with 
 the Sovereign ; but the gatherings are cosmopolitan. 
 
 In a democratic country like England, any Govern- 
 ment, whether Whig or Tory, is largely composed of 
 self-made men, who, with their families and belongings, 
 gratify the keenest of ambitions, that of " getting into 
 Society," with a facility that was impossible fifty years 
 ago, in the days before the passing of the Reform Bill. 
 When the Government was entirely in the hands of 
 Whigs and Tories, Society was essentially aristocratic 
 and exclusive, the members of each Ministry and their 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 39 
 
 subordinates being men of birth, who belonged naturally 
 to the society in which they moved ; but with the ex- 
 tension of enfranchisement the middle classes claimed 
 some of the social advantages of what had thitherto 
 been known as the ruling classes. Such a social 
 recognition was a prize highly valued and dearly bought, 
 and the price of the much-coveted invitation often 
 meant a wavering vote. The wives of the leaders of 
 political Parties were sparing and cautious in their 
 hospitality, and the fate of a Government often hung 
 on the issue of invitations to the house of the Prime 
 Minister. 
 
 While Lord Palmerston was in office, Lady Palmer- 
 ston wielded a political power little less than that of her 
 husband. An invitation to her Saturday parties at Cam- 
 bridge House was as eagerly sought for as any politica 
 reward. She was a strong partisan, and bestowed her 
 hospitality only on her personal friends, warm adher- 
 ents, and wavering opponents. She and Lady Derby 
 divided the toil of Party entertainments ; but, during 
 many years of Whig ascendency, the business of 
 dispensing social favours was briskest at Lady Palmer- 
 ston's. The reunions were exclusively political. Men 
 of the medical profession, of the bar, of the stage, even 
 of letters, were seldom seen. 
 
 Lady Waldegrave was the first woman in a political 
 position who opened her house to everyone, without 
 distinction of Party. She scandalized the more 
 exclusive of her friends ; but she helped to bring about 
 the cosmopolitanism which is now the characteristic 
 
40 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 of English Society. In her house everyone rubbed 
 shoulders with celebrities. Politicians, doctors, bar- 
 risters, actors, and actresses, all found a welcome in 
 her warm and kindly sympathy. No one has taken 
 her place. Party feeling has run so strongly that no 
 one else, probably, could have brought Jacobins, Con- 
 servatives, and Unionist Liberals into harmony within 
 four walls. Since the secession of the Whigs from the 
 Liberal Party, Liberal society has ceased to be ; but the 
 task of gathering the scattered flock together has been 
 taken up bravely by the wives of the few young Liberal 
 statesmen whose brilliant futures are not yet things of 
 the past. 
 
 London is so much larger and richer, the number of 
 people who receive has so enormously increased, and 
 the facilities for going into Society are so very much 
 more ample, that invitations to the house of a great 
 political leader are no longer sought after and intrigued 
 for so eagerly. In fact, the centre of Society has 
 changed. A large portion of it remains where it always 
 has been, and its members have opened fresh fields of 
 enterprise for themselves. Literature, art, and science, 
 have advanced to positions new to them ; and a small 
 section, but a very important one, has formed a society 
 of its own all the more important because it has the 
 acknowledged leaders of Society at its head and is 
 exercising an influence on English life and character 
 the effects of which we can as yet hardly estimate. 
 
 The tendency of Society in England is to grow 
 large : indeed, to be unwieldy. London has become 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 41 
 
 the centre of the civilized world. It is the fashion to 
 know everyone and to go everywhere, and the struggle 
 to accomplish this feat inevitably expands Society. 
 People have not the leisure to see their friends in a 
 quiet, simple way, as formerly, when real intellectual 
 pleasure was always to be found in certain small 
 coteries. Life is too full and too busy ; and all persons 
 with any pretence to social " smartness " find their 
 engagements so numerous that their only way of seeing 
 acquaintances is by inviting them to their house, where, 
 packed together in a hot room, much too small for 
 half their number, a surging crowd composed of 
 the most opposite elements try to find enjoyment in 
 the fact that they are in a room with an assemblage 
 of people more or less interesting and distinguished, 
 none of whom they know by sight, in whose existence, 
 indeed, they never interested themselves until it be- 
 came the fashion to invite the lions and make them 
 roar. To the hostess of the nineteenth century such 
 hospitality is a pain, and not a pleasure. If she 
 is a person with some appreciation of the great 
 qualities of her guests, it cannot be aught to her but an 
 annoyance that she is unable to give every one of her 
 friends the proper position and attention which he 
 merits ; but she has no alternative. Her large ac- 
 quaintance and her many engagements prevent her 
 from showing hospitality in any other way. 
 
 The French salon has never found a counterpart in 
 England. The inclination of the English, as regards 
 society, is to eat, not to talk. Their conception of 
 
42 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 social amusement connects itself with dinner, dress 
 coats, and as much formality and state as possible. 
 The simplicity of French Society, which meant drop- 
 ping in during a given evening one day a week to a 
 well-known house, where neither meat nor drink was 
 provided, never commended itself to England. It 
 found some adherents in the days of Miss Berry, 
 whose house in Wimpole Street was for many years 
 the haunt of all the most distinguished people of her 
 time. Lady William Russell, the mother of the late 
 Duke of Bedford, one of the most accomplished women 
 of the day, surrounded herself with a society as 
 pleasant as it was small, and, to the last day of her life, 
 was always to be found in the evening in her house in 
 Audley Square. Lady Jersey, Lady Sandwich, Lady 
 Granville, and Lady Ashburton, were the only grandes 
 dames who in English Society ever tried to imitate the 
 salon ; and their entourage was very small. Their 
 aristocratic prejudices were too strong to admit anyone 
 outside the charmed circle, and many of the most dis- 
 tinguished men of their time lived and died unknown 
 to them. 
 
 Whatever may be the reproach of the end of the 
 nineteenth century, a want of appreciation of distinc- 
 tion in any mode is not one. There never was an 
 age when fame of any kind was more of a "cult." 
 To have a good cook ; to be a smartly-dressed woman ; 
 to give magnificent entertainments, where a for- 
 tune is spent on flowers and decorations ; to be 
 the last favoured guest of Royalty, those are among 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 43 
 
 the qualifications. It must be admitted that they are 
 not high. 
 
 . Luxury, ease, comfort, the modern ideals are un- 
 dermining our Society as surely as they sapped that of 
 Rome. We have become very rich, and we have a 
 large leisured class whose only occupation is amuse- 
 ment. Men and women who live for pleasure, and 
 have no sense of the obligations of life, are becoming 
 the parents of young England ; and the example of 
 their lives is before the children, who are expected to 
 carry on the traditions of which our race is proud. 
 The influences of which we speak are perhaps less 
 felt among boys than among girls. School-life still 
 develops the manhood of England. Luxury in the early 
 preparatory schools is increasing ; but the rough-and- 
 tumble life of the public schools counteracts its influ- 
 ence, and gives boys the knocking-about which is 
 necessary for the development of the hardier qualities 
 of man's character. The battle of life the struggle 
 in all professions is so keen that it brings out a man's 
 strongest aptitudes, and the competition he has to meet, 
 which is becoming harder every year, makes him proof 
 against enervating- influences. Still, Society the tone 
 of Society is not governed by men. It is governed 
 by women ; and as women are virtuous or the reverse, 
 so is their entourage. 
 
 It would be idle to deny that certain changes in London 
 Society, which are too conspicuous to be overlooked, are 
 only the outcome of the easy-going manner in which 
 women of the highest rank and culture have allowed 
 
44 CONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 old-fashioned rules to be relaxed. The decay of re- 
 straints has been almost imperceptible ; but the spirit 
 of liberalism in all affairs, social, political, religious, 
 has swept away the reserve and illusions of our fore- 
 fathers. 
 
 Nowhere is this more conspicuous than among girls, 
 whose lives are as different from those of their grand- 
 mothers as dusk is different from darkness. Respect 
 for parents, the habit of self-denial, and the modest 
 reserve which used to be the characteristic of the 
 " English miss," have disappeared. Parents and 
 children now meet nearly on an equality ; but where 
 there is any inferiority it is on the parental side. The 
 young lady of to-day reads the newspapers, and what 
 books she chooses ; and discusses with equal frankness 
 the freshest scandal and the latest French mode ; she rides 
 in the Park often unattended by a groom, but generally 
 with a cavalier ; she drives alone in hansoms ; she 
 dances with men who do not care to be presented to her 
 mother ; and she leaves her chaperon, not to dance 
 with the enjoyment of girlhood, but to retire to 
 some leafy corner of the ball-room, where she can (to 
 use the modern phrase) " sit out," while her dis- 
 traught parent "sits up." She spends her own money, 
 and dresses as she likes, and more often than not 
 spends more than she can afford. Her stay in London 
 is one round of pleasure from morning to night, varied 
 during the autumn and winter by country visits which 
 are only a repetition of London on a small scale; and, 
 whilst some years ago girls would go anywhere for 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 45 
 
 a dance, now they desire to go only to the best balls 
 and to be with the smartest people.^ 
 
 The reason for the change in English girlhood is to 
 be found in the fact that for many years they have not 
 had, as far as regards Society, a "good time." The 
 young married women are formidable competitors. In 
 dress, in conduct, in conversation, and often in know- 
 ledge, therefore, they copy their envied rivals ; or, at- 
 taching themselves to some smart young married woman, 
 they profit by what she squanders in the prodigality of 
 her success. 
 
 Howsoever great the difficulties girls find in entering 
 the social lists, they are much more hardly handi- 
 capped in the matter of dancing, and still more in that 
 of marrying. Nothing is more comical than to see the 
 devices to which ball-givers resort to get men to come 
 to their houses and when there to dance. Everything 
 is done to tempt them. Balls begin at midnight, be- 
 cause the jeuncsse don'e of England will not dance 
 early ; a rcchcrcM supper and the best of wines are 
 provided ; and long before midnight patient rows of 
 sleepy chaperons and anxious girls await the arrival 
 of the young Adonis, who, after scornfully surveying 
 the serried ranks through his eye-glass from the end 
 of the ball-room, retires below to eat and drink, and, 
 having thus done his duty, goes back to his club. 
 What is true of dancing is true as regards marrying. 
 Knowing the life of ease and comfort which is the lot 
 of most girls, men who are poor, perceiving that 
 marriage would entail an amount of denial and sacri- 
 
46 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 fice they do not feel able to undertake, abstain from 
 the altar. When there is great affection the case is 
 different, and hand in hand man and woman face the 
 struggle together ; but when the gold is not sufficient 
 to provide more than bread and butter, the nineteenth 
 century takes away much of the poetry and romance 
 which gild the pathway of life. 
 
 Parents, besides, feel, naturally, that when a man has 
 no profession or prospects which will ultimately in- 
 crease the income he can offer their daughter, mar- 
 riage would not only be unwise but wrong. The effect 
 is that girls marry later, and often with a better pros- 
 pect of happiness. Still, girls do not marry as easily or 
 as well as formerly, and the confidante of fashionable 
 mothers will bear me out in saying that the universal 
 cry is, "The men won't marry." The New Man shows 
 no respect whatever for the theorem of Mr. Disraeli 
 that England will never be right until all the youth of 
 it is married at twenty-one and all the beauty at nine- 
 teen. 
 
 The increased cost of living and the difficulty that 
 men with small incomes have in marrying affect other 
 classes in England ; but in the middle and the professional 
 classes the improved education which women receive 
 opens careers to them other than the domestic 
 ones, and their choice of husbands is wider. It is the 
 cost of living up to a certain position that has driven 
 so many of the daughters of the aristocracy to make 
 marriages among men in business, and it is one of 
 the principal causes of the democratization that is 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 47 
 
 going on so rapidly in England. Money is the idol of 
 to-day ; without it life is ugly, hard, wearisome ; and, 
 if with it the romance and poetry of existence fly away, 
 it helps to grease the wheels of the coach, and softens 
 down many angularities. It has been said that every- 
 thing can be bought but health. That is nearly 
 true. Wealth is a great power, either in use or in 
 abuse ; it is the cause of success in the smartest 
 London society. No words more desperately true than 
 those of the Poet Laureate of our nineteenth century 
 life were ever written : 
 
 " Every door is barred with gold, 
 And opens but with golden keys." 
 
 If we take up a Society paper which chronicles the 
 fashionable doings of the week, we find that the smartest 
 and most magnificent entertainments are not those given 
 by the haute noblesse of England. They are those given 
 by a host of people, many of whose names are foreign, 
 who thirty years ago would not have been heard of 
 outside their provincial neighbourhoods. To their houses 
 flock the leaders of what was once, not long ago, the 
 most exclusive society in Europe. The atmosphere 
 heavy with the perfume of flowers, the spoils of the 
 Riviera ; the bewitching voice of the last fashionable 
 prima donna, brought at a fabulous price ; the deli- 
 cacies of the supper room ; the banquet with its price- 
 less wines these are the temptations which the crowd 
 of magnificently dressed and beautiful women and blase 
 
48 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 men cannot resist ; and such is the nightly spectacle 
 offered to any observer of what we term the " smart 
 set " of London Society. The patronesses of Almack's 
 must turn in their graves at the thought. 
 
 When the best passport into the highest society in 
 England is unlimited wealth, and it is much easier to 
 join in the funeral chorus of regret at its de- 
 generation than to take any active part in coun- 
 teracting its influence, is it to be wondered at that 
 deterioration is going on ? To those who feel seriously 
 and deplore the effect which the recognition of the new 
 elements which now compose Society in England must 
 have, the position is one of great difficulty. There is a 
 great difference between an affectation of being shocked 
 and a genuine sorrow over much that is going on 
 around us. 
 
 The agricultural depression, and the necessity for re- 
 trenchment enforced on all the smaller landlords, obliging 
 them to shut up their houses and live in reduced state, 
 or to come to London, where, in spite of its luxury, it is 
 easy to be poor, have destroyed a strong counteracting 
 influence, which, while it lasted, exercised some re- 
 strictions. 
 
 It must not, however, be supposed that there is no 
 society in England save that which we have described. 
 There is still a larger and more important one : in 
 which we find happy families, where duty and responsi- 
 bility are unimpaired. There has never been a time in 
 England when there was so strong a feeling of the obli- 
 gation to poorer brethren which riches entail, or when 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 49 
 
 charity was more generous. The class to which we 
 refer are a resistance to the influence of the other 
 strata of Society. 
 
 It is not only from the widespread and general 
 luxury of the richer class of England, their extrava- 
 gance and their freedom, that the evil which we deplore 
 arises. It is also from the example of the upper classes, 
 which insensibly spreads below. How can we chide 
 and condemn the vices of the poor when the example 
 set them by the rich is what we see ? Surely, we 
 must feel infinite pity for the outcast women of the 
 world who sin because they must live, while there 
 can be nothing but a feeling of horror for women who 
 set their virtue so low as to make it the price of dresses 
 which will "cut out " the toilettes of other women; nor 
 can we have any but a feeling of contempt for the men 
 who, marrying on small means, suddenly find their 
 whole entourage changed by the addition of horses 
 and carriages, French cooks, and all the modern 
 luxuries of a fashionable menage, and shut their 
 eyes and regard the transformation with philosophical 
 calmness. In all societies there are men and women 
 low enough to accept such positions ; but in England 
 thirty years ago such a thing would have been impos- 
 sible, and no man or woman occupying it would have 
 dared to appear in Society. " A litres temps aittrcs 
 mawrs.' 1 With so many examples of the tolerance of 
 the world and the complaisance of husbands, we can- 
 not wonder that some of the modern developments 
 of Society have created a condition which respectable 
 
5 o LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 English opinion considers a reproach and a danger to 
 the country. 
 
 The decay of religious belief in English Society is 
 beginning to have effect in a lapse of some of the 
 strongest restraints to which human nature can be 
 subjected. In the great waves of passion which sweep 
 across the lives of men and women, religion has not 
 always been an unfailing protector ; but insensibly it 
 controlled inclinations which would have been calamitous 
 had they been yielded to. Modern Thought is chang- 
 ing the aspect of life, and, with it, the relations of men 
 and women. The spread of education among women 
 and " emancipation " will work still greater changes, 
 all in the direction we deplore ; and, unless some 
 unforeseen event diverts the current in which 
 Society is moving, public opinion will insist on its 
 reconstruction, and the lines of demarcation which 
 now divide it will become more clearly defined. 
 The " smart set " will follow its inclination, which is 
 towards the gratification of every whim of the moment. 
 The other, with certain ideals of duty, will, as now, 
 endeavour to realize its responsibilities, and, being the 
 strength of the country, will always be a power 
 against baneful social influences. Fortunately for 
 England, the mass of opinion will be sound ; but, unfor- 
 tunately, owing to the glamour shed over " smartness " 
 by rank and riches, the smart may long continue to be 
 the fashionable set. 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 51 
 
 The fact that the foregoing reflections were published 
 in an American Review has excited some of my critics. 
 No people are so intimate with our faults and short- 
 comings as our transatlantic cousins are, and it is felt 
 that I ought not to have made them our confessors. 
 Lady Frances Balfour has piled up a terrible indict- 
 ment on this score. That was unnecessary. The 
 Americans know more about us than we know of our- 
 selves. London has become to Americans what Paris 
 used to be. They cannot visit us in their thousands, 
 go into Society, be welcomed and fe"ted as they are, 
 and have many relations and friends married and 
 settled in England, without being acquainted with 
 all our vices as well as with a few of our virtues. 
 There is a set into which they do not go, in whose 
 existence they hardly believe, to which little of what 
 I have written applies ; but they draw their conclusions 
 from what they see of the set in which it is the suc- 
 cessful ambition of many of them to move ; and, if I 
 have pointed out the characteristics of that set, I have 
 not, I suspect, done more than enable many Americans 
 to verify what their own observation, or the informa- 
 tion of their friends, had already suggested. Indeed, 
 I will admit that one of my reasons for addressing 
 American readers was to tell them what (I hope) is 
 thought by not a few in England of that special part 
 of Society which appears to them the most admirable, 
 
 E 2 
 
52 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 as it certainly is the most conspicuous. If it is the 
 ideal of any of them, let it, at any rate, be said 
 that there are Englishmen and Englishwomen who are 
 not blind to its faults ; and let them not imagine that 
 if they achieve admission to that glittering circle they 
 are initiated into all the best life of England. 
 
 It is impossible, after what Lady Frances Balfour 
 has said, to refrain from some reference to the influ- 
 ence exercised on Society by the Queen. No English 
 man or woman, whatever his or her political opinions, 
 could hesitate a moment in paying the tribute that is 
 due to a Sovereign whose life has been devoted to the 
 welfare of her people, her example one of the purest 
 and noblest in the history of the world. The dull 
 coarseness of the reigns of the early Georges, culmi- 
 nating in that of George IV., closed the pages of a 
 story that one can dwell on with little satisfaction ; 
 and the accession of a Queen ; who had led the simple, 
 uneventful life of the English girl of those days gave 
 promises which have been more than fulfilled. The 
 nature of the Prince Consort was the best support to 
 the impulsive and generous Queen, and, through the 
 too short wedded life of the two, the Court of England 
 presented as high an ideal of sovereignty as could well 
 be imagined. During the long years of her mourning 
 and seclusion, the sympathy of the country has gone 
 out to the Queen ; and her people have never forgotten 
 the fact . that, howsoever irksome, and at whatever cost 
 to herself, the welfare of the country has never been 
 neglected for a moment, and that, in State affairs, the 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 53 
 
 Queen has been as vigilant and hardworked as any of 
 her Ministers. Her influence to-day is in many ways 
 greater than during any period of her reign ; but not 
 in the same direction. Fifty-six years of devotion to 
 her people has intensified the hold she has always 
 maintained over their affections, and no one who was 
 fortunate enough to witness the grand procession on 
 her Jubilee day can doubt how deep and lasting their 
 loyalty is. On the other hand, no one can deny that 
 the restraining influence over Society which her 
 presence exercised has practically ceased. 
 
 It is true that in one important particular the power 
 of the Sovereign is as great as ever. It is still she 
 who sanctions the formal admittance of persons into 
 Society by allowing them presentation at Court. The 
 exercise of such power and its jealous retention 
 are a real safeguard to Society, and, administered as 
 they now are, constitute a tribunal of honour which 
 satisfies every one. Apart from this, however, the 
 individual influence of the Sovereign over Society 
 and its leaders cannot seriously be said to remain to 
 any appreciable extent. Then, even the qualification of 
 presentation has, in point of exclusiveness, ceased to 
 be critical. One important change is in the number of 
 those wishing to be presented, which was more than 
 doubled in thirty years. Now the restriction is 
 elastic. If a person is not palpably objectionable 
 in reputation, there is no reason against his being 
 presented at Court. The relaxation is sufficient to 
 account for the presence in London Society of many 
 
54 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 persons who could not have entered it thirty years 
 ago. 
 
 The Queen is kept well-informed of the events of 
 the great world, and is said to have a very accurate 
 knowledge of what occurs ; but there the supervision 
 ends. Howsoever much she may wish to express ap- 
 proval or dissatisfaction, she cannot do so in the unmis- 
 takable yet quiet manner in which she could signify her 
 opinion of persons and things if she were constantly 
 brought into actual contact with them. None of the 
 pageantry of the most brilliant Court is ever wanting 
 on State occasions in England ; but the absence of the 
 Queen and her entourage has done more to democratise 
 English Society than any of the other causes which 
 have helped to bring about the changes. The influence 
 of the Queen's private life, while appealing strongly to 
 the country at large, and endearing her to the whole of 
 her people, is much more potent among the masses, 
 among whom the feeling towards her is one of deep 
 chivalrous sentiment, than it is among the various sets 
 of Society who take their cue from others more exalted 
 than themselves. It is obvious that as long as she ab- 
 stains from taking her recognised place in Society the 
 Sovereign can have little control over the heterogeneous 
 mass of which it is now composed. There can be no 
 disloyalty in admitting the indisputable. 
 
 Still, one must in fairness say that the sentiment 
 of loyalty to the Queen is in a great measure due to 
 her seclusion from the bustle of public life. It may be 
 that the policy which she has pursued for so many 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 55 
 
 years was dictated by a sagacious knowledge of her 
 people, w r ho, in her isolation, with its pathetic dignity, 
 see only a Sovereign whose life presents an idyll : a 
 Queen who, surrounded with all the grandeur and 
 power of a great empire, chooses to work unwitnessed 
 for her people's welfare, never relaxing her labours in 
 their behalf. 
 
 Mr. Mallock says that the nucleus of London Society 
 still " consists of our old landed families, the most 
 important of which enjoy 'high titular rank.'" That is 
 so; but the nucleus is so small that it is almost lost in 
 the accretions. Many of the old landed families have 
 suffered so much from depression in agriculture and 
 from financial crises that, ceasing to direct and control 
 Society, they have become dependent for their amuse- 
 ments on the new oligarchs of wealth. Conscious 
 that competition is impossible, they have shown no 
 want of alacrity in availing themselves of what their 
 new hosts are willing to offer for social recognition. 
 
 Mr. Mallock thinks that London, like a university or 
 a public school, is divided into many sets wholly inde- 
 pendent of one another. From what I am told, I am 
 not prepared to assent to his view that a college, at 
 least, if not a university, or a public school, does not 
 take its tone from a particular set. I should, however, 
 have thought it beyond question that in London almost 
 every set, whatever its special " cult," looks up to and 
 is influenced by the set favoured by the acknowledged 
 leaders of Society. In London a large section of 
 Society is interested in knowing who are the friends 
 
56 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 and intimates, and what are the occupations and pur- 
 suits, of the Royal Family, and of the " smartest " 
 people in the " upper ten ; " and with none is this in- 
 terest more intense than with the new oligarchs of 
 wealth, to whose influence Mr. Mallock ascribes the 
 decadence of Society. 
 
 The great increase of commercial wealth and the 
 large number of new families it has brought into exis- 
 tence have undoubtedly contributed largely to the 
 changes we are discussing ; but they have not contri- 
 buted to so great an extent as to make them entirely 
 responsible. Luxury was not unknown among the 
 aristocracy before the rise of the rich middle class, 
 and there are many great families who are even now 
 suffering from the lavish expenditure of their fore- 
 fathers, in whose day merchant princes were rare. 
 Nothing has been more faithful (I might say more 
 obsequious) than the imitation by the new families of 
 the life of the great families with whom they compete. 
 Who has not watched with amusement the growth 
 of the family tree, the gradual multiplication of ances- 
 tors on the walls, the establishment of the piper in an 
 old Scotch castle, now tenanted by some millionaire 
 from Mincing Lane ? The sideboard groaning with gold 
 and silver plate, and the footmen resplendent in yellow 
 and crimson liveries, are only a few of the indications of 
 the zeal with which the new power has adopted the 
 outward aspect of the old. The trappings of wealth 
 and rank, which fitted a class rich with the traditions 
 of aristocracy, and have always been accepted as part 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 57 
 
 of its role, are adopted by its imitators just as the jay 
 in the fable took the discarded feathers of the peacock 
 to decorate himself. 
 
 Where there were position and wealth there was 
 always luxury ; and, where they have survived the shock 
 of agricultural and other financial depression, it is still to 
 be found in the homes of the bluest blood in England. 
 It is not a monopoly of the nouveaux riches or of the 
 " strangers within our gates." It is the fashion to talk 
 of the tendencies of this century as novel in English 
 history. The democratization of Society is now more 
 rapid than hitherto ; but it should never be forgotten 
 that it is a characteristic of the English aristocracy, as 
 distinguished from that of France, of Austria, of Spain, 
 of Russia, and, to a less extent, of Italy, that it has 
 rested on foundations other than those of territorial 
 possessions alone. The names of many of the English 
 nobility recall those of men who in law or in commerce 
 laid the foundations of families which are now among 
 the oldest and most dignified in England. Unlike the 
 countries to which I have referred, we have always re- 
 cognized and accepted any man of commanding ability, 
 whatever his birth or origin, and, as a matter of course, 
 have admitted him to all the privileges of the social 
 order to which he had raised himself. The aristocracy 
 of the bar, of letters and other arts, of commerce, and 
 of the sword, have become so welded with our terri- 
 torial aristocracy that \ve cease to remember whence 
 they came, knowing that, by high character and ability, 
 they fairly won their elevation ; and many names of 
 
58 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 which Englishmen are proudest are those which testify 
 that there is no position so high and honourable that an 
 Englishman of character and talent may not attain to 
 it. We have also, however, been jealous and careful 
 that only the most worthy should receive the honours 
 and the social recognition to which their personal qualities 
 entitle them ; and that feeling, whilst not an unfailing 
 barrier, has prevented any great abuse of the privilege, 
 apart from cases of political favour. While the lines 
 were strongly defined, and a man was rewarded for his 
 individual merit, the women belonging to him rarely, if 
 ever, shared his good fortune, except as regards his 
 title, their social recognition never following as a right ; 
 and only after many years of patient struggle, if ever, 
 did his family rise to the same position as its head. 
 To quote only two well-known instances : I should say 
 that neither Lady Peel nor Lady Beaconsfield was ever 
 on the same terms of easy intimacy with the grandes 
 dames of the London world as their husbands were 
 with men of rank. Nowadays, the position of the 
 whole family rises, and, with a bright wife and plenty 
 of money, a man may attain to any social position. 
 His appearance, his past, his capacity, all are im- 
 material if his wife knows how to play her cards. 
 
 Mr. Mallock maintains that some other qualities 
 besides the "gold that gilds" are necessary to insure 
 social success, and goes so far as to say it is unattain- 
 able without them. I cannot agree with him. Some 
 members of Society owe their entrance into it to their 
 power to charm or to amuse, and the powers which charm 
 
LONDON SOCIETY. 59 
 
 and amuse imply the possession of qualities always of 
 some distinction ; but the masses of Society owe few 
 of the triumphs they enjoy to their wit. They owe it, 
 rather, to their wine and food ; and many a cordon bleu 
 lays his head on his pillow every night with the satis- 
 faction of knowing that his master and mistress would 
 never be where they are but for his genius. Intellect, 
 cultivation, and refinement, are still the characteristics 
 of certain sets in London ; but there is a large and im- 
 portant section whose aims are pleasure, their desires 
 the gratification of the moment. 
 
 Perhaps the aristocracy of England has been wise in 
 receiving the newcomers and profiting by their wealth 
 and their willingness to pay for recognition. There is 
 more worldly wisdom in sharing the pleasures provided 
 for us in a more gorgeous and lavish manner than we 
 could afford, and accepting the position boldly, than in 
 shrouding ourselves in the ruined grandeur of a faded 
 past, swathed in a poverty which, howsoever satisfactory 
 to our amour-propre, must be deplorable in every other 
 sense. We can easily afford to bestow a pitying admira- 
 tion on the Faubourg St. Germain in its scornful isolation 
 from fashionable Paris and the life which throbs around 
 it ; but we are too philosophical to take that view of our- 
 selves, and thankfully accept the good things which 
 come in our way, feeling that life need not be wasted 
 in the luxury of stately woe. 
 
 We are cynically logical, also. We accept the whole 
 situation. The few barriers which regulated who 
 could be known and where we should go have long 
 
60 LONDON SOCIETY. 
 
 been swept away, and we go everywhere. Nothing 
 could afford a more edifying text for my sermon than 
 to cast one's memory back in a large, crowded drawing- 
 room in London, and try to trace step by step the 
 social victory which has crowned the persevering efforts 
 of more than half the people in it to storm the citadel 
 of Society : to recall the many rebuffs, the cold sus- 
 picions, and in many cases the affronts, heaped on them 
 by those with whom they sought to be intimate. The 
 reflections can hardly be pleasant to either side ; but 
 there can be little doubt as to which has the 
 advantage. 
 
 About the weaknesses and foibles of Society one 
 might laugh and jest ; but it is not really a matter for 
 jesting. Increasing luxury and love of pleasure are 
 producing a decadence which we cannot but deplore. 
 The relaxation of some of the rules for the guidance 
 of Society is bringing about changes of which at this 
 moment we hardly guess the danger. 1 will notice 
 two. One, probably the most sinister, is the rapidity 
 with which women are losing control over Society, and 
 with it the respect due to them from men. The tone 
 of conversation, the stories told in their presence, and 
 the want of deference to them in the behaviour of men r 
 are very significant changes. The other, upon which I 
 have dwelt already, is the mercenary character attach- 
 ing in an increasing measure to relations otherwise 
 deplorable enough. 
 
6i 
 
 DINNERS AND DINERS. 
 
 The feasts and banquets of former days are, 
 mercifully for us in these later times, relegated to 
 public occasions only, and are regarded as a doubtful 
 pleasure by those who are obliged to partake of them. 
 Hospitality, which used to be dispensed wholesale, is 
 now spread over a larger and wider area ; but dinner 
 has become the characteristic repast of England, and the 
 giving of dinner is the way in which English people 
 best like to entertain and show hospitality to their 
 friends. In other countries hospitality is dispensed dif- 
 ferently, although, indeed, among certain classes in 
 society abroad dinner is as important an event as with 
 us. In England both the size of our houses and our 
 daily occupations prevent those who live in towns from 
 receiving strangers as their guests. Our English 
 country life represents our particular form of hospi- 
 tality ; but in London we are driven perforce to 
 confine it to the dinner-hour, and it is at an English 
 dinner-table that we see one of the most pleasant 
 aspects of English life. There is no prettier sight, 
 none more characteristic of the ease and luxury in 
 
62 DINNERS AND DINERS. 
 
 which we live, than a large, well-arranged dinner-table 
 in London ; and this is not in any way the monopoly 
 of the rich, for nowadays, when the decoration of 
 rooms is not expensive, when flowers are cheap, and 
 the taste of Englishwomen has so much improved, 
 it is in the power of every hostess to make her enter- 
 tainment as pretty as she can desire. The clean white 
 cloth, the sparkling glass, the shaded light, the smell of 
 the fresh flowers, and the well-dressed women sur- 
 rounding the table, form a brilliant centre to the finely 
 decorated dining-rooms of many houses in London. 
 
 The dinner of to-day is different from that of thirty 
 years ago, and the change is in every way an advantage. 
 A long table, covered with empty silver entree dishes, 
 on each of which in due time eight entrees and joints, 
 or even more, according to the number of guests, 
 were deposited, to be solemnly taken round in turn, is 
 the part most vividly impressed on one's memory. One 
 had always the most profound pity for the host and 
 hostess, who were obliged to carve the joints at their 
 respective ends of the table, the duty in the hostess's 
 case generally falling to the unhappy man who took 
 her in to dinner, and, consequently, got no dinner 
 himself. The cooking was heavy and coarse, and the 
 food substantial. Quantity, not quality, was the 
 characteristic of the repast. The art of carving was 
 a necessary accomplishment, and it was wonderful to 
 see the dexterity and neatness with which a good 
 carver could minister to the wants of a large party 
 from a joint of ordinary size. As dinner was served 
 
DINNERS AND DINERS. 63 
 
 upon the table, artistic cooks had great opportunity to 
 devise pretty dishes, and there was always plenty of 
 scope for their talents in the endless array of puddings, 
 jellies, etc., which came at the end of the feast. To 
 families possessed of fine plate, a dinner-table in 
 those days was a magnificent sight, and the heavy 
 cut-glass was also an embellishment. In houses where 
 there is a fine collection of plate, it is even now 
 always used for decorating the table. Nothing can be 
 more gorgeous or brilliant than the display of silver and 
 gold at Windsor at state dinners, when the Queen's 
 plate, which is the finest in the world, is exhibited. 
 
 The custom of removing the tablecloth after dinner, 
 and arranging the dessert on the plain mahogany 
 table, has passed, and in many ways one regrets it. 
 Nothing looked prettier than the brown mahogany 
 table, burnished almost to the brilliancy of a looking- 
 glass, covered with large silver dishes of fruit, and 
 silver candelabra, with its fringe of bright colour from 
 the dresses of the women sitting round it. The modern 
 fashion of covering the table with flowers has made 
 the retention of this custom impossible, and it is seen 
 now only in houses where an old mahogany table is 
 still looked on as a precious relic of the ancient 
 customs. 
 
 In former days the real business of the evening only 
 began with the removal of the cloth and the retirement 
 of the ladies. Not until then did the men of the party 
 really devote themselves to what was considered the 
 important part of the evening's amusement. The host 
 
64 DINNERS AND DINERS. 
 
 produced the treasures of his cellar for his guests, and 
 they in turn gave up a large portion of the evening to 
 their consumption. In fact, dinner was an event 
 which culminated in a u heavy drink." The wines 
 were richer than those of these da}^s, and much 
 more wine was drunk after dinner. Champagne, 
 sherry, claret, and burgundy, were drunk during 
 the meal ; the two latter, as well as port, during 
 dessert. There was no smoking after dinner, for 
 cigarettes were unknown ; and so, facing a phalanx 
 of bottles in silver stands, the men drank on steadily 
 during the evening. How well one remembers 
 the long time after dinner, when all the jokes and 
 scandal were exhausted, and in sheer desperation a 
 " little music" was proposed in the vain hope that the 
 warbling sounds might tempt the faithless from their 
 revelry ! Champagne has nowadays taken the place of 
 heavier wines, and is drunk almost universally during 
 and after dinner. The possessors of fine cellars may 
 grumble, as they do, at the degeneracy of to-day ; but 
 after a cigarette and a glass or two of champagne 
 every one wants to get to the drawing-room, and many 
 are the complaints one hears of the bottles of claret 
 opened after dinner and left untouched. 
 
 The serious, dull, heavy, and expensive dinner had 
 its doom sealed w r hen the custom of serving dinner 
 a la Russe became the fashion. The conservatism of 
 English society would have struggled much longer 
 against the innovation but for the fact that its adoption 
 considerably reduced the expense of entertaining. In- 
 
DINNERS AND DINERS. 65 
 
 stead of heavy joints, endless entrees and puddings, 
 a dinner consists of as little or as much as the 
 hostess feels inclined to give. The trouble of carving 
 is obviated, and in all ways the fashion is a distinct 
 improvement. For some years old-fashioned people 
 struggled against it, and even now there are houses 
 where the host still clings to his old prejudices ; but 
 the instances are so few that one can hardly name 
 them. With the introduction of dinners a la Russc the 
 art of cooking changed, and the lighter but richer 
 cuisine of the French was adopted ; but the time of 
 transition was trying, as the English cookery of some 
 thirty years ago was very bad, and for one dinner to 
 rejoice over there were hundreds to be bewailed. 
 
 Let us be thankful that the period of transition is 
 passed, and that English people have realised that good 
 plain cooking is infinitely to be preferred to an ambi- 
 tious bad French cuisine, and that a good plain dinner 
 is within the reach of every one. The National School 
 of Cookery at South Kensington has done something 
 towards improving the English cuisine. It is still worse 
 and more extravagant than that of any other country ; 
 and, although it is not nearly so bad as it was, there is 
 great room for improvement. Our dinners are much 
 too long, and we give too much to eat. Persons dining 
 alone would never dream of consuming the amount of 
 food they eat every time they dine out, and there can 
 be no sound reason why any one should eat more in 
 company than when alone. Already efforts are being 
 made to reduce the quantity of food and the time taken 
 
66 DINNERS AND DINERS. 
 
 to consume it, and dining at half-past eight, as we do 
 now, must help to shorten the feast ; otherwise a 
 dinner would last well on into the night. 
 
 No dinner should consist of more than eight dishes, 
 soup, fish, entree, joint, game, sweet, hors-cT cnivrc , and 
 perhaps an ice ; but each dish should be perfect of its 
 kind, and no dinner should last more than an hour and 
 a quarter if properly served. Instead of this, dinners 
 are constantly two hours long, and we double this 
 quantity of food. Can anything be more wearisome, 
 tiring to the digestion, and wearing to one's self and 
 one's neighbours, than two hours' conversation with 
 no chance to escape, without even the privilege, 
 if one is bored, of being silent ? Even the greatest 
 wit, the most brilliant raconteur, becomes monotonous 
 after such a trial. Nothing can be in worse taste than 
 a heavy repast, served with great ostentation, at 
 which the guests are made to feel that their duty is to 
 devote themselves to the task of cleaving their way 
 through all the tedious dishes. 
 
 There are some houses, indeed, where the dinner 
 is proverbially so good that to expect to be amused 
 and also well fed is to be guilty of real ingratitude. 
 In others, although gastronomically one does not 
 fare so well, one is better entertained. Bad dinners 
 are becoming exceptional. The average cooking in 
 England has so much improved that one rarely runs 
 the risk of being poisoned, and the incongruity of 
 society prevents one from being insufferably dull. 
 
 A really pleasant dinner-party ought never to be 
 
DINNERS AND DINERS. 67 
 
 very large ; but the rapidly increasing size of London 
 society almost entirely precludes people who entertain 
 a great deal from enjoying the pleasure of a small one. 
 The golden rule of hospitality was wont to be that one 
 should not dine at the house of any person whom one 
 did not intend to invite in return. Howsoever strictly 
 people may still adhere to that rule, the size of society 
 makes dinners, as well as all other forms of entertain- 
 ment, large. The number of guests is generally limited 
 only by the size of the dining-room. The traditionally 
 ideal dinner, which ought to consist of eight or ten 
 people at a round table, well known to one another, 
 and all good talkers, so that the conversation may be 
 general, has become a dream of the past ; and in its 
 place we have the large dinner of to-day, at which 
 general conversation is out of the question, and one is 
 limited, in talk, to one's immediate neighbours. 
 
 Sometimes, where there is space, two tables are 
 a pleasant way of dividing guests, and of diminishing 
 the sense of oppression which a very large dinner 
 always gives. We have not adopted the plan with 
 alacrity in England. Many persons object to it from 
 an idea that the company at the other table is more 
 amusing than their own ; and others object when the 
 tables are multiplied (as they sometimes are) on the 
 ground that the place is like a restaurant. Still, it is in 
 many respects a better way than arranging the dinner 
 at the large ordinary table, where anything like general 
 conversation is out of the question. Conversation can 
 
 be more or less general at a table of eight guests, or 
 
 F 2 
 
68 DINNERS AND DINERS. 
 
 ten, or twelve ; besides, this is a less formal mode of 
 entertainment. The great length of dinners in Lon- 
 don, and their lateness, have been mainly brought 
 about by the lateness of the hour at which after-dinner 
 society begins. No one goes to a ball before midnight, 
 and the evening has to be got through in some way or 
 other. Thus, dinners grow later every year. Now a 
 quarter-past eight is the usual invitation, and half-past 
 eight or a quarter to nine is not too liberal an inter- 
 pretation of the bidding. 
 
 The composition of a dinner-party is very important. 
 It is always a mistake to compose a party entirely of 
 intellectually brilliant persons. They are generally 
 envious, critical of one another, and therefore not to 
 be seen at their best. One generally finds that the 
 pleasantest dinners are those composed of average 
 persons. A brilliant galaxy of guests gives a dinner a 
 certain distinction ; but it is as likely as not to be a 
 dull party. I have a very vivid recollection of a din- 
 ner-party composed of persons every one of whom 
 was distinguished. A prime minister, two cabinet 
 ministers, a distinguished soldier, one of the greatest 
 ecclesiasts of the day, a brilliant scientific man, a 
 great journalist, a distinguished lawyer, together with 
 agreeable and pretty women, made up a company which 
 at first sight seemed to promise a rare feast of intel- 
 lectual delight. One of the guests declared it the 
 dullest dinner he had ever endured. If such were 
 always the case, one would despair of the arrangement 
 of any dinner, and indeed the conviction is often inevit- 
 
DINNERS AND DINERS. 69 
 
 able that a judicious mixture of ordinary with brilliant 
 persons affords on the whole the best chance. Among 
 many guests a brilliant talker is thrown away. It is only 
 at a small table, when all the guests can hear and see, 
 and, if required, add their quota to the general flow of 
 conversation, that such a person accentuates the general 
 enjoyment ; although it should not be forgotten that 
 very often such a guest frightens others less brilliant 
 than himself, absorbing all the attention, and stifling 
 the efforts, of his companions. What is required at 
 dinner is that every one should be quick and sufficiently 
 well educated to keep up the battledore and shuttlecock 
 of small-talk, and that no one should be so much more 
 brilliant and egotistical as to swamp every other 
 person's individuality. 
 
 If we were to ask the majority of men what they 
 consider the dullest kind of dinners, they would 
 certainly name those where there are no women ; 
 and women would naturally express the same 
 opinion as regards dinners of their own sex only. 
 The former is, of course, common enough, as 
 business and professional men give such dinners, and 
 there are many occasions when they are unavoidable. 
 Women's dinners are not customary yet ; nor, indeed, 
 have they been much tried in England. Now and 
 then venturesome women have attempted to gather to- 
 gether a few enterprising sisters and have banished 
 the male element ; and, despite the chaff and ridicule 
 of the " lords of the creation," the parties were pleasant 
 enough. With higher education and greater freedom 
 
7.o DINNERS AND DINERS. 
 
 of thought and conversation, the society of intelligent 
 women in England is sufficiently enjoyable without the 
 presence of men. This, J know, is an opinion 
 in which there is no general concurrence. We have 
 been brought up with the conviction that entertainment 
 is incomplete without men; and, as the hour of dinner, 
 the arrangement, the care bestowed on it, and the im- 
 provement of cooking, have all grown out of that feel- 
 ing, it requires courage to deny the general assumption. 
 
 Girls are much more generally invited to dinners now 
 than formerly, and they appreciate the change ; but that, 
 again, is the result of the great changes that have come 
 over the intellectual position and interest of women in 
 England. Thirty years ago, few girls would have chosen 
 a dinner in preference to a ball ; now there are hundreds 
 who would not hesitate a moment as to their choice 
 of the dinner, for the range of thought and conversation 
 is so wide, the subjects of discussion are so varied, that 
 a well-educated girl is able to see the symposium 
 through without adversity. The presence of pretty 
 girls enlivens a dinner-table, and no man, howsoever 
 great and clever, need fear being bored by having a girl 
 his neighbour. 
 
 The old saying as regards giving dinners in London, 
 41 Cutlet for cutlet," has, fortunately, long ceased to be 
 true. No one is invited to dinner only because a din- 
 ner is expected in return. People are invited for every 
 reason but that, and it is in the mixture and variety we 
 meet at a dinner-table that the secret of its success rests. 
 This gives it piquancy; and interests, and even animosi- 
 
DINNERS AND DINERS 71 
 
 ties, political differences, and social bitterness, disappear 
 under the soothing influence of " Creiuc dc volatile, 
 woodcock, Pommery, and cigarettes," and the pleasant 
 society of pretty women. It is idle to deny that, of 
 all social influences, none is more potent than the 
 dinner-table. Every hostess will necessarily be care- 
 ful not to invite impossible combinations ; but in Eng- 
 land most people, howsoever divergent their opinions or 
 occupations, forget differences under the softened light 
 and soothing amenities of an agreeable dinner-party. 
 The story of how the Speaker of the House of Com- 
 mons, with rare tact, decided to waive the regulations 
 about evening dress, and invited the Advanced Party in 
 the House of Commons, who abjure general society, to 
 dine with him at his official residence, is so well known 
 that there is no indiscretion in alluding to it. One has 
 heard over and over again how they met, and how, 
 under the soothing influence of a good dinner, wine, 
 and graceful hospitality, the conflicting elements passed 
 an evening as unique as it was hilarious. Dinner is 
 the great levelling institution of society. A party or a 
 ball is an entertainment people are pleased at being in- 
 vited to ; but nothing brings classes together, nothing 
 levels distinctions, nothing gives satisfaction, so much as 
 dining at the same table. Hospitality is dispensed 
 widely and lavishly enough in England, and the houses 
 of the rich are open to the most cosmopolitan of 
 crowds ; but with the enormously increasing size of 
 society it is impossible to invite every one to dinner, 
 howsoever hospitably we may be inclined. As I said 
 
72 DINNERS AND DINERS. 
 
 before, the excellence of the cuisine is a point not to be 
 disregarded ; but, provided that the food is well-cooked, 
 people never think of it in comparison with the society 
 they meet. The saying, " I do not know what the din- 
 ner was like : I only know I enjoyed the evening very 
 much," is the greatest tribute to the success of host or 
 hostess in amusing friends. 
 
 The best test of popularity is the number of invi- 
 tations to dinner which people receive, and, as 
 dinners are exceeding in number every other enter- 
 tainment, popular persons need rarely, if ever, dine 
 at home ; their going out being simply limited to 
 their powers of endurance and digestion. It must 
 be this cause which has made it the fashion to give 
 very long invitations to dinner. Five or six weeks 
 is not unusual in the season, and three weeks or 
 a month is the usual time. Some people are unpro- 
 curable except at such a distance of time. To the 
 entertainer it does not practically matter on what day 
 his dinner is given ; but the length of invitation often 
 makes a refusal impossible ; and cruel fate, which so 
 loves to play mischievous tricks with us, often sends 
 another, if not more than one, pleasant invitation for a 
 date to which we are bound. It is impossible, except 
 for a Royal Command, to throw over a dinner invitation. 
 It is the one social sin which we in England, who are 
 indulgent enough in other respects, resent very keenly. 
 Wednesdays and Saturdays are the days in London on 
 which dinners are most frequent. They are the only 
 evenings on which the House of Commons does not sit, 
 
DINNERS AND DINERS. 73 
 
 and it is impossible to get any member of the Govern- 
 ment to dine on any other evening during the Session. 
 On these evenings, therefore, the preponderance of 
 guests is political. One of the few indications of the 
 existence of Sunday observance in England still shows 
 itself in the fact that few dinners are given on Sunday. 
 The religious feeling against them still remains ; and 
 among business men, lawyers, and such-like, the idea 
 that Sunday should be indeed a day of rest is still very 
 strong, while among servants there is a great dislike to 
 Sunday festivities. 
 
 With the rapidly increasing size of society in 
 England, it would be impossible for any kind of 
 intimacy or friendship to grow up in the huge 
 crowds where movement and conversation become 
 more difficult daily ; and, therefore, dinner has become 
 a more important and more frequent event in 
 our social life. It is the easiest and quickest way of 
 getting people together and of bringing into contact 
 those who otherwise would never meet ; in some ways it 
 is the most economical ; and on all sides it is accepted 
 as the pleasantest mode of passing the few hours which 
 our busy life affords for recreation. The real respon- 
 sibility of a dinner must always rest on the hostess. 
 She is the presiding genius of the feast ; and on her 
 tact, cleverness, and discretion, its fortunes depend. 
 The secret of being a good hostess lies very much in 
 a woman's thoroughly enjoying society. If she is 
 happy and amused, her satisfaction spreads. A 
 nervous woman, or one who does not really enjoy 
 
74 DINNERS AND DINERS 
 
 society, never makes her dinner pleasant. She is con- 
 tinually haunted by the thought that something will 
 go wrong, or she is tired and bored ; and her moods 
 permeate. Nothing is more infectious than pleasure, 
 or ennui ; and a hostess makes or mars the party. 
 
75 
 
 CONVERSATION. 
 
 To be a good talker is a valuable accomplishment. 
 An agreeable man, howsoever ugly he may be, is always 
 popular, and if we were to ask a woman whether she 
 would be beautiful or agreeable, she would choose 
 charm. Beauty while it lasts gives a power which is 
 indisputable ; but if one were to apply the practical 
 test, and place a merely beautiful woman in competition 
 with an agreeable plain woman the latter would win 
 the victory. The gift of conversation, which, to a 
 certain extent, is natural, is one that can be cultivated. 
 Children possess it. Their easy and unconscious 
 friendliness makes them delightful companions ; the 
 freshness and originality of their views on all sub- 
 jects is highly entertaining. 
 
 The gift of being agreeable is one which, whilst 
 depending on natural causes, can be attained by per- 
 sonal effort. It is every oneV duty to try to please, 
 and it is a duty singularly well rewarded. Great 
 learning and high ability are constantly unappreciated 
 because the owner of the greater qualities lacks the 
 lighter and more congenial, which attract and retain 
 the attention of society. 
 
76 CONVERSATION. 
 
 A person who talks well need not necessarily possess 
 great mental gifts. The qualities necessary are varied. 
 A few are pre-eminent. Among them we should note : 
 (i) a soft voice ; (2) general knowledge; (3) sympathy ; 
 (4) social experience and adaptability. A soft voice 
 and a low laugh are signs of breeding and education, 
 which attract listeners and dispose them to be in- 
 terested. A loud voice prejudices people, giving the 
 impression, sometimes unjustly, that it denotes impa- 
 tience, arrogance, and a desire to talk them down ; 
 and, unfortunately, a harsh voice is often the accom- 
 paniment of qualities which, independently of it, 
 render people unattractive. The coarseness of voice 
 of the lower classes is largely due to the want of 
 training during lesson time. If we observe the voices 
 of the older generation who have not enjoyed the 
 advantages of modern education, one is struck by the 
 difference in the tone and in the key. 
 
 General knowledge, which comprises knowledge of 
 the world, a varied acquaintance with books, and the 
 sound education on which it must be built to be of real 
 value, is indispensable. In the days of newspapers, 
 magazines, and other publications which give an easy 
 acquaintance with so many subjects, the temptation to 
 be superficial is overwhelming. While so many fall 
 into the temptation, it requires great intellectual effort 
 to keep abreast of the stream and maintain the standard 
 of real knowledge. In the kaleidoscopic mass of 
 subjects which interest us, and the fulness of our 
 modern life, a certain acquaintance with most of them 
 
CONVERSATION. 77 
 
 is necessary for any one aspiring to any kind of intellec- 
 tual standard. 
 
 The greatest charm is a sympathetic nature, that keen 
 indescribable quality which puts one en rapport with the 
 person to whom one is speaking, and enables one to 
 understand the other's point of view. The quality is 
 negative. It does not entail brilliancy of conversa- 
 tion, or quickness of repartee. Only, it insensibly sup- 
 plies the influence which insures good talking. One 
 may describe it as modesty or diffidence, the possessor 
 of which, while holding aloof from any personal part in 
 conversation, by an apt remark, or a gentle suggestion, 
 directs the current into which conversation flows. One 
 has often heard it said of some of the most successful 
 talkers, that they did not do much of the talking them- 
 selves, but directed its course, and that they were able 
 to make everyone appear brilliant and witty, while 
 saying hardly anything themselves. Certainly, among 
 many of those who have had the reputation of being 
 the leaders of any intellectual society it is true that 
 they have constantly been more remarkable for silence 
 than for speech. 
 
 Social experience, whilst important, is useless unless 
 accompanied by adaptability. The weak point of 
 clever people is often an inability to adapt themselves. 
 They may have wide knowledge on a subject; but that 
 is the limit of their powers, and outside of it they are 
 dull. Modern society, bringing people of every 
 class into contact, has largely increased the field of 
 subjects, and the best talkers are those who are cosmo- 
 
78 CONVERSATION. 
 
 politan. A good memory is necessary to good talking ; 
 so is the sense which seizes on the light and 
 amusing aspects of life. Want of humour is a grievous 
 fault. How often has one listened wearily to conver- 
 sations interesting in many ways but lacking in the 
 sense of fun ! Humour is often divorced from great 
 ability, and is seldom consistent with strong con- 
 victions. 
 
 That the art of conversation has always been con- 
 sidered important is shown by the frequent references 
 to it in works treating of the qualities which help 
 to insure sucess in life. " Discretion of speech," Lord 
 Bacon says, in his Essays, " is more than eloquence ; and 
 to speake agreeably to him with whom we deale is more 
 than to speake in good words or in good order, 
 He that questioned! much shall learn much, and 
 content much ; and especially if he apply his questions 
 to the skill of the persons whom heasketh ; for he shall 
 give them occasion to please themselves in speaking, 
 and himself shall continually gather knowledge." Lord 
 Chesterfield's advice might be followed with advantage. 
 " Of all things," he says, " banish egoism out of your 
 conversation, and never think of entertaining people 
 with your own personal concerns. . . The jokes, the 
 bons mots, the little adventures which do well in one 
 company, will seem flat and tedious when related in 
 
 another Talk often, but never talk long ; 
 
 in that case, if you do not please, at least you are sure 
 not to tire your hearers. . . . Take rather than 
 give the tone of the company you are in 
 
CONVERSATION. 79 
 
 There is a certain social respect necessary ; you may 
 start your own conversation with modesty, taking care, 
 however, dc ne jamais parler des cordes dans la maison 
 
 d'ini pcndu I need not, I believe, advise 
 
 you to adapt your conversation to the people you are 
 conversing with. ... A man of the world must, 
 like the chameleon, be able to take a different hue ; 
 which is by no means criminal nor abject, but a neces- 
 sary complaisance, for it relates not only to manners 
 but to morals." The astute man of the world realised 
 the value of manners. "All the above rules," he says, 
 "will lose half their effect if unaccompanied by the graces. 
 Whatever you say, if you say it with a supercilious, 
 cynical face, or an embarrassed countenance, or a 
 
 silly, disconcerted grin, will be ill received 
 
 If your air and address are vulgar, awkward, and gauche, 
 you may be esteemed, indeed, if you have great artistic 
 merit, but you will never please. Venus among the 
 ancients was synonymous among the graces who were 
 always supposed to accompany her; and Horace tells 
 us that even Youth and Mercury, the Gods of Art and 
 Eloquence, would not do without her." Lord Chester- 
 field discourses cynically on the importance of adapta- 
 bility in conversation, and gives hints to his son which, 
 whilst important to the success of a young man 
 starting in society, enabling him to read character and 
 win popularity, are interesting as showing how much 
 in conversation can be learnt of the character and 
 weaknesses of those whom we associate with. "You 
 will easily discover every man's vanity," he says, "by 
 
8o CONVERSATION. 
 
 observing his favourite topic of conversation;" and, 
 "Women have in general but one object, which is 
 their beauty, upon which scarce any flattery is too gross 
 for them to believe." He advises the boy to read the 
 pretty little French book, written by 1'Abbe de Belle- 
 garde, entitled JUArt de Plaire dans la Conversation ; 
 adding, " though I confess it impossible to reduce the 
 art of pleasing to a system, yet this book is not wholly 
 useless." In our day a distinguished and witty Irish 
 professor has donned the mantle of Lord Chesterfield 
 and given us a volume containing many discreet rules 
 for the encouragement of good talk. 
 
 Modern life, while it has increased the field of con- 
 versation, has added to its embarrassments : it has 
 brought us all into contact amid circumstances which 
 make it necessary to take an apparent interest in one 
 another. Lord Chesterfield maintains that every well- 
 bred person should have no difficulty in beginning and 
 continuing a conversation with anyone. He lived in a 
 time when "well-bred " people seldom went into any 
 society save their own, when there was no difficulty as 
 to the choice of a subject. One of the trials of con- 
 versation is the initial one, the premier pas, which 
 may be successful, or land you in greater difficulties ; 
 for the size of society brings so many people of 
 different sets en rapport that a new-comer is often 
 stranded as to the choice of a subject. The obligations 
 which we owe to our ever-changing climate are in- 
 numerable. 
 
 A writer in The Spectator wittily compared the difficul- 
 
ITY 
 
 CONVERSATION. V^j| 
 
 ties of starting a conversation to the feelings of Alice 
 in Wonderland when the necessity of having to 
 make conversation begins to weigh heavily on her, 
 and she hazards all sorts of little remarks and 
 speeches which are necessitated by the variety of 
 her unexpected and incongruous acquaintances. After 
 starting many subjects, and steering clear of those she 
 must avoid, she finds everything rambling off into be- 
 wildering mazes; and she cries out, pathetically, "This 
 cannot be conversation : it sounds so dreadfully like 
 nonsense." Thus, much talking that is done for the 
 sake o-f talking is only nonsense. The consciousness 
 that they have nothing to say urges people on to say 
 something stupid. Starting a conversation with 
 strangers is an art which plays a very considerable part 
 in life. 
 
 It is difficult to compare French conversation 
 with English. It has generally been accepted that 
 the French are wittier, lighter, more versatile. French 
 is a more expressive and more adaptable language than 
 ours. One may fairly doubt, however, whether the 
 most refined French conversation or the most brilliant 
 oratory has ever equalled English spoken with the 
 eloquence of Burke, or of Pitt, or, in our later days, 
 of John Bright. The wits of Dublin have become 
 brilliant memories, and the men whose names were 
 household words have left no successors. The wrongs 
 of Ireland have extinguished the lamp of wit. 
 
 Has the wide diffusion of knowledge made us more 
 brilliant talkers than our ancestors in the days of Burke, 
 
82 CONVERSATION. 
 
 Sheridan, Walpole, Lord Chesterfield ? We all 
 talk now, and we all talk more ; but do we talk as 
 well ? Is there as much originality of thought, as 
 much brilliancy, as in the past ? or is pleasant conver- 
 sation now only the result of a superficial knowledge ? 
 The greater freedom in conversation has changed form 
 and style. The variety of subjects is the most re- 
 markable of all the changes that have come. The 
 freedom with which we discuss religion, morality, and 
 all social subjects, is the growth of a very short time; and 
 questions more delicate are fast arising. One great change 
 is in the very general part women take in conversation. 
 They talk pleasantly. Women are quick, sympathetic, 
 and keenly interested in the widening aspects of life ; 
 they read widely, their memories are good, and they 
 bring to bear on many subjects not well-balanced 
 opinions, but some that are often interesting and original. 
 Women have pleasant voices, and are less egotistical 
 than men, allowing the conversation to run naturally. 
 Their conversation is vastly improved in its range of 
 subjects. Personal matters and gossip always occupy 
 a large place ; but these are no longer the sole themes, 
 and there are many people who rarely touch on such 
 affairs at all. As the principal object of conversation 
 is amusement, mental relaxation, pleasant idleness, it 
 is almost impossible for any kind of social intercourse 
 to ignore gossip entirely ; and in its harmless forms 
 it is agreeable enough. The gossip about remarkable 
 people is absorbing. Who can hear anecdotes of Lord 
 Beaconsfield, Bismarck, Mr. Gladstone, without in- 
 
CONVERSATION. 83 
 
 terest ? and when have we ever had such a delightful 
 volume as Boswell's Life of Johnson ? 
 
 We have lost the coarseness of the eighteenth 
 century ; but whether the veiled frankness with which 
 all social, moral, and religious matters are now discussed 
 is an improvement is doubtful. Conversation between 
 men and w r omen is open and unrestricted, and the 
 social problems which are becoming of engrossing 
 interest are considered quite legitimate topics be- 
 tween them. The monopoly of such conversation is 
 not that of the married women of the nineteenth 
 century, who have at least earned a right to consider 
 many social problems from an emancipated point of 
 view. If we take modern novels as a picture of English 
 life, we find that girls demand the same freedom. If 
 French literature is at all an index to French life and 
 customs, we cannot fail to see the difference between 
 the novels read by ajeune pcrsonne and those which lie 
 on our own tables ; as well as the contrast in their lives 
 and education. Mon Oncle et mon Cure and Le Secret 
 du Precepteur are as delightful and as harmless as Miss 
 Austen's works, which give us a picture of the life and 
 conversation of her times. The contrast between the 
 conversations of Catherine Morland and Mr. Tilney on 
 their first meeting at Bath is antipodean to that of Jack 
 and Dodo in the first volume of Mr. Benson's entertaining 
 work. The latter is lighter, more amusing, more enter- 
 taining ; but for all that the duller and less picturesque 
 talk of Miss Morland is better than slipshod English 
 interlarded with slang and doubles entcndres. 
 
 c 2 
 
84 CONVERSATION. 
 
 The temptation to be epigrammatic, to say sharp 
 things, is too great for us, and, as in other matters, 
 in conversation the substance nowadays is often sacri- 
 ficed to the shadow. Superficiality, which is the beset- 
 ting sin of the nineteenth century, is attacking us all. 
 When there is neither time nor inclination for perfec- 
 tion we must needs be content with whatever imitations 
 we can find, and what is true of the decadence of 
 many English customs is applicable to modern con- 
 versation. 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 Mrs. Crackanthorpe's thoughts on the disaffection of 
 the daughters of England, published in The Nineteenth 
 Century, seem to threaten us with a social revolution. 
 There had been no warning of the impending strike. 
 To us unsophisticated mothers, living happily in 
 ignorance of the discontent burning in the bosoms 
 of our daughters, the announcement of an organized 
 series of " mothers' meetings " to protest against the 
 movement comes as a cruel surprise. Apparently, the 
 strike is developing rapidly ; and we have no organisa- 
 tion to resist its onslaught. In an hysterical age, what 
 chance of success, what sympathy, can we expect in 
 our opposition to the Movement, supported by those 
 who are strong, beautiful, and interesting ? An army 
 of youth and sentiment, with no sense of proportion, 
 and no knowledge of life, rises to redress the grievances 
 of girls against their mothers ; the tocsin sounds ; and 
 we are told to beware, for the days of the " Know- 
 nothings " are numbered at the hands of the " Know- 
 alls." Thus a fresh problem is added to the question 
 of the emancipation of women. If Mrs. Crackanthorpe 
 
86 THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and her followers are widely representative, it is 
 serious. Perhaps, however, it derives its alarm from 
 its novelty. 
 
 The higher education of women in England was 
 opposed, not from any reluctance to have the position 
 of women improved, but from an instinctive conviction 
 that when once they could affirm intellectual equality 
 with men they would claim equal rights in all respects. 
 The opposition has been justified. With women's 
 intellectual development we have seen their entry into the 
 arena of men's work, and, in many cases, a successful 
 competition. The recognition by law that a woman's 
 earnings were her own, and to be protected from her 
 husband, was a definitive act in her emancipation. 
 Certain privileges are still withheld from her ; but 
 every year brings her nearer to being given them. 
 Were we prepared to go into the question of how 
 women have borne the responsibilities they have won, 
 it would not be difficult to show that they have felt 
 their power, and have conducted themselves with 
 patient dignity. Our aim, however, lies in another 
 direction. We wish to consider the influence which 
 better education, more freedom, and an earlier know- 
 ledge of life, are likely to exercise over women. We 
 shall endeavour to show that it will not be so subver- 
 sive as some expect. 
 
 Let us admit that there are certain households where 
 mothers and daughters do not " hit it off," and that 
 there are girls who are hysterical, and find their home- 
 life uncongenial. That is not a phenomenon of later 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 87 
 
 days alone. Speaking from many years' experience, 
 we are prepared to affirm that the damsels dis- 
 affected now are not more numerous, relatively, than 
 those who were potential rebels forty years ago. 
 Among the middle classes, indeed, they are fewer. 
 Education has enabled thousands to go afield, and ex- 
 pend their superfluous energies, or their unsatisfied 
 yearnings, in good, honest, solid work, which, while 
 acting as a safety valve, has enabled them to earn 
 their living. The nervous young woman is not the 
 result of any system. She is a solecism in life, such as 
 appears from time to time in uncivilized nature, as well 
 as in the human family. 
 
 We hardly feel sure that we know the girls of whom 
 Mrs. Crackanthorpe writes. We will take it that she 
 means the girls, composing a large portion of English 
 society, who are over twenty years of age. Why 
 twenty should be the age at which a revolt from 
 maternal control supervenes we cannot understand. 
 Some girls are as discreet at sixteen as at twenty-six; 
 but no girl can have adequate knowledge of life and of 
 the world until she has had the experience which age 
 alone can bestow. Modern education develops them 
 intellectually ; but the knowledge it gives is of little 
 practical use to them as regards their conduct. Were 
 they allowed to shape their lives on theories evolved 
 from what they learn from books, they would be better 
 without any education whatever. 
 
 It would be idle to deny that the girl of to-day is 
 different from the girl of forty years ago. The scheme 
 
88 THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 of her education and her entourage are changed. She 
 lives in an atmosphere which is liberal in thought as 
 well as in conversation, and no girl now is as ignorant 
 of life as her mother was at the same age. Still, the fact 
 that the sphere of her life and knowledge is broader 
 does not naturally make her impatient of restraint. 
 There are not many girls who sigh for the forbidden 
 fruits of amusement, or consider themselves ill-used 
 because music halls, plays which deal with equivocal 
 subjects, and books which treat of the relation of the 
 sexes, are withheld from them. It is difficult to picture 
 a happier life, a life of greater freedom, a life ampler 
 in interests and pursuits, than girls now enjoy. If a 
 girl is intellectually inclined, a university career is open 
 to her. If she is athletic, she can take her part in all 
 the sports and pastimes formerly the monopoly of her 
 brothers. If she is sentimental and humanitarian, she 
 can work among the poor and achieve high fame in 
 philanthropy. Is she frivolous ? There never was an 
 age when society was so delightful and stiffened by so 
 few restrictions. Some girls, more emancipated than 
 others, sigh for latchkeys and the disestablishment of 
 the chaperone in short, for the freedom which marriage 
 alone should give a woman. To the maternal mind 
 the restrictions are necessary. The freedom which 
 girls are permitted now, even in the strictest house- 
 holds, is as much as is good for them during the 
 early years of life. Were the restraints relaxed, the 
 ultimate results would be disastrous. There must 
 always be questions in connection with which the 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 89 
 
 mother's experience and love will clash with her 
 daughter's inclinations; but they are of such import- 
 ance as to put them beyond discussion, and they 
 usually present no grievance. 
 
 Mrs. Crackanthorpe draws attention to a new aspect 
 of the relations between mother and daughter. Before 
 we had read her paper, one felt inclined to be grateful 
 to one's girls that, considering the independence and 
 enfranchisement of their lives, they were as lenient to 
 our shortcomings and old-fashioned notions as they 
 are. If there are homes under a system of repression, 
 where individuality is stamped out, a struggle for 
 supremacy must ensue. Even in such cases, we 
 believe, the fault is with the juniors. We do not, how- 
 ever, hold a brief for the mothers only. We are ready 
 to admit that where the shoe pinches it may be often 
 at the mother's instance. Mothers too often grow older 
 than need be, and forget that they have lives around 
 them full of the keen impulses of youth, and fail to be 
 friends to their girls. It is difficult to have perfect friend- 
 ship without equality, and in that lies the explanation 
 of the difficulties which often arise. The mother 
 must be the ruler ; and it needs almost superhuman 
 tact, temper, and discretion, to hold the reins and yet 
 not appear to drive. There is no relation, no position, 
 so theoretically perfect as that of a mother ; yet there 
 is none so full of difficulties. The mother gives to her 
 children all the devotion, all the love, almost all the 
 passion, of her life. Her sole object is their welfare ; 
 their affection, her reward. A good mother is the most 
 
90 THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 unselfish of human beings, and during childhood and 
 youth all that is most precious in her to bestow she 
 lavishes upon them. For no inconsiderable period she 
 is everything to her children ; the embodiment of 
 wisdom, beauty, love ; beyond her there is nothing 
 perfect or divine. While it lasts, there is nothing out 
 of heaven so beautiful ; but into her Eden the serpent 
 comes, and brings with him knowledge and dreams 
 and ideals. There are, the children feel, worlds outside 
 the world of mother's love and pleasures that compare 
 not unfavourably with those of home. Their affection 
 is not weaker or less real ; but the positions are 
 modified, and side by side with the trust and ab- 
 sorbing love of a child other interests and other 
 desires grow up. It is then that the turning-point 
 in both their lives is reached. If the mother, out 
 of her love, can develop the wisdom which shows her 
 that she is no longer to be the divinity of her children's 
 dreams, but the guardian angel of their opening 
 lives, all may be well ; but that needs devotion and 
 patience. It is hard to realise the change, and to 
 accept the fact that the young individualities growing 
 up around her are as distinct and irrepressible as her- 
 self. This, however, is what every woman who loves 
 her children must endure. She must stand by and 
 see them learn from their own experience. Hers is 
 old-fashioned and out of date. The time for enforcing 
 obedience is past. The wise mother sits by watching 
 the enterprises and the experiments which are being 
 carried out gaily under the eyes of herself the person 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 91 
 
 who is popularly supposed to wield the rod which 
 destroys. and paralyzes her daughter's confidences. 
 
 Although such may be the theory about the position 
 of the mother and the militant daughter of the nine- 
 teenth century, no civil war is being waged in English 
 households. The positions are new ; but no change has 
 come over the affection between the two. Now, more 
 than at any other epoch, the mother is the friend of the 
 girl. There are exceptions ; but, we maintain, there 
 is a greater camaraderie between them, the result of 
 their modified relations, than was ever possible before. 
 While mothers retain their youth and enjoyment of 
 life much longer, girls grow older more quickly. The 
 levelling-up process diminishes the distance between 
 them. The old system of severity and repression is 
 past, and, whatever other feelings may have survived, 
 fear has disappeared. There is the frankest discussion 
 on any questions which involve the parental control. 
 Equality is nowhere more flourishing than in a happy 
 household. If that were not so, we should not have to 
 deal with the question as one of modern life. We 
 should have been compelled to reorganise our family 
 system long ago. Mothers are accused of being stupid, 
 wanting in magnanimity, narrow and unsympathetic ; 
 and, like the Master Builder, are supposed to dread the 
 pressure of the younger generation, who in their ruth- 
 less egoism are trying to sweep away the traditions of 
 their sex and give full play to " inconvenient individu- 
 ality." There are mothers and other mothers ; but we 
 prefer to leave the other mothers to " dree their weird," 
 
92 THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 and ask our readers to consider carefully whether we 
 are not right in our contention that the relation of 
 mother and daughter is incomparably happier now, and 
 more on an equal footing, than at any other time, and 
 that the vast majority have long ago learnt that to 
 enforce obedience by right of motherhood is, in these 
 times, a mistake. 
 
 In Mrs. Crackanthorpe's indictment against mothers, 
 the real grievance lies in the charge that in opposing 
 the daughters' desire for freedom they diminish the 
 chance of good marriages. The " marriage-ring " is 
 the authority which mothers acknowledge and obey ; 
 but they will not admit it for a moment. We are 
 not going to deny that accusation ; nor do we see 
 any reason to be ashamed of the admission. We will 
 go further ; and declare that, if the opinion of men is 
 to be of much importance in framing the characters 
 and making the lives of girls in England what they 
 have been, we are glad of it, and pray for the continu- 
 ance of such an influence. To deny that marriage is 
 the object of woman's existence is absurd. Long ago 
 it was the only aim a woman had ; and her training, 
 education, and life, were framed on that supposition. 
 The fact that there were many women who could not 
 marry, and led very miserable lives, does not dis- 
 prove it ; but that w r oman was created for the pur- 
 pose of being wife and mother no one can deny. 
 That none of the discoveries of science, or any attempt 
 to solve the mysteries of life, has brought her one bit 
 nearer the knowledge of how to unburden herself of 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 93 
 
 these responsibilities is a stable fact. Such being the 
 case, why should anybody affirm that it is not so ? 
 It cannot be a cause of shame ; nor is it a disgrace : it 
 is a fact as immutable as any in nature. It springs from 
 an instinct inherent in women. It shows itself in the 
 love of the little child foe her doll ; and in the unbidden 
 blush which rises to the cheek of every girl when the 
 mysteries of life are beginning to be unfolded to her, 
 and her heart tells her that there is a deeper and more 
 passionate love than that of home. Since the creation of 
 all things, woman has joyfully fulfilled her mission ; and 
 she will so continue ; those only protesting to whom the 
 opportunity has not come, or to whom independence con- 
 stitutes the worth of life. Far from joining in Mrs. Crack- 
 anthorpe's cry against the influence which "the marriage 
 market " has on the action of mothers, we think it is, 
 within limits, good. Every woman wishes for the 
 happiness of her daughters, and knows that in a union 
 where there is sympathy in tastes and character the 
 happiness of life is to be found ; and in training her 
 daughter for that career she is doing her obvious duty. 
 No one blames a mother for educating her daughters 
 well, for selecting desirable companions, for dressing 
 them prettily, and for endeavouring to find them 
 pleasant society and amusements. Why, when the 
 most important event of their life is impending, should 
 it be a crime for her to apply the same willing considera- 
 tion ? Any happily-married mother must earnestly 
 desire the same good fortune for her girl, and she is per- 
 fectly justified in endeavouring to put such happiness 
 
94 THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 in her way. We are very fond of declaring that we 
 seek only the happiness of our daughters, but that 
 on that one subject we are indifferent, provided and 
 so on. Let us be honest. Let us say that we care 
 more about that subject than almost any other : that 
 we want our girls to marry, and marry well, and 
 marry the best men, because we know that they will 
 be happier and better for having done so. 
 
 Howsoever indifferent a mother may appear to be, 
 it is impossible for her not to feel the keenest desire 
 that her girl should make a good marriage ; and every- 
 thing that she can do to insure it we may be certain 
 she will do, and be justified. The mother of whom 
 Mrs. Crackanthorpe speaks is, unhappily, not a fiction. 
 There have been, there are, and always will be, women 
 and girls who are ready to sell themselves as long 
 as rank, wealth, and position, are the sole objects to 
 which a woman aspires in marrying. That is not the 
 result of modern training. Such a marriage-market 
 has always been. Of the mother, with her knowledge 
 of life, we will not speak, for there is nothing to be 
 said in extenuation ; but of the girl one must always 
 remember that she is ignorant, and often weak, and has 
 the example before her of many women who have done 
 the same, and have, with an unpromising future to 
 face, not only made themselves happy, but changed 
 their husbands into better men. A girl will always 
 justify her action by the hope that, in a happy, peaceful 
 life, and under the influence of a good woman, a man 
 will ranger himself and become a good husband and 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 95 
 
 father. The risk is great, and the result is always 
 problematical ; but there are sufficient examples of such 
 triumph to make her feel that the experiment need not 
 be a failure. Men do not, as society is at present 
 constituted, always bring a blameless past to the altar; 
 but they may make expiation by fidelity and devotion 
 in marriage. Unless a man is lost to the sense of 
 honour, he does not disappoint the woman in her ex- 
 pectations. There are some men so completely out- 
 side the pale of morality as to be worthless in every 
 way ; but of the majority may we not reasonably feel 
 our position to be a fair one ? 
 
 In face of the greater emancipation desired by 
 girls, which would, if permitted, lead to scandals, 
 it seems a little superfluous that they should expect so 
 high a standard of morality in men. If the con- 
 cession of the Wanderjahr is made to them, we shall 
 see the positions reversed, and find men exacting from 
 women a standard of purity which is now taken as a 
 matter of course. 
 
 It is difficult to name the age at which the restraints 
 on girls should be relaxed. There is obviously a period 
 when, if a woman does not marry, she may be allowed 
 freedom both as regards the way in which she will use 
 her life and as regards the maternal control. We 
 should say that that is not before she is twenty-five. 
 We know that the acquisition of a privilege, when it 
 comes in the order of things, is not so precious as when 
 it is wrested in conflict. The enfranchisement which 
 a woman attains by age is not of the same value in her 
 
96 THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 eyes. It has, in reality, a value greater than it would 
 have had in earlier days. She has learnt something of 
 life, and experienced its difficulties. She is better 
 able to appreciate the proportionate value of what she 
 acquires, and will not run a-mock, violating every 
 rule of conduct and decorum ; which in all probability 
 she would do if she were eighteen or twenty. We 
 do not say this from a disbelief in the inherent purity 
 of girls ; but with the ignorance of youth, the strength 
 of its impulses, the unscrupulousness of men, and 
 the temptations of life, how could we trust any girl to 
 herself? 
 
 There is an aspect of the question which is graver 
 and still more delicate. We do not imagine that the 
 proposed enfranchisement of girls is to be limited to 
 the life they wish to lead or to the persons with whom 
 they associate. If a girl is to be left to her discretion 
 in such things, it can be only after a fuller knowledge 
 of life and its problems has been unfolded to her. She 
 should not be launched on her eventual career without 
 full instructions in the mysteries of the Book of Life. 
 To be safe, she must know how to protect herself ; and 
 that knowledge can only be acquired after full initia- 
 tion in subjects from which thitherto she had been care- 
 fully guarded. Superficially, the proposed change in 
 the life of girls appears comparatively small ; but, if one 
 analyses its effect, it means a complete upheaval of 
 tradition. The new school with regard to the position 
 of women holds that absolute knowledge of life can 
 not only do no harm, but is necessary and just, and 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 97 
 
 should not be withheld from the girl of to-day, and 
 that instruction in life's mysteries is as important a part 
 of her curriculum as instruction in any other subject. 
 If knowledge meant protection from temptation, it 
 might be argued that girls thrown early on their own 
 resources, and obliged to face the world, would be 
 better able to carry out their career safely if warned 
 of certain obvious dangers. Such cases are the ex- 
 ception. With the majority of girls the home is still a 
 haven, and the mother a counsellor and friend. We 
 have to deal with the community at large. We are 
 told that there is no innocence in ignorance ; and that 
 girls would be wiser, more discreet, and less likely to 
 fall into temptation, if they knew more. If the pro- 
 gramme of the reformers were carried out, the destruc- 
 tion of the present system as to the bringing-up of girls 
 would make some changes necessary. If we are to 
 give girls the freedom of married women without the 
 protection of the husband, we must find his substitute. 
 That substitute must come from a fuller knowledge 
 of life. 
 
 Will anyone calmly say that such a change is possi- 
 ble, or desirable in any of its aspects ? Do we wish to 
 see our girls half men in theory and half women in 
 inexperience and ignorance, with a superficial smatter- 
 ing of knowledge grafted on to the restless impulses and 
 the vague curiosity of youth ; with all the romance, all 
 the illusions of life, dispelled ; and with neither the 
 constitution nor the capacity of men to carry out their 
 careers ; above all, bereft of the sweet talisman of purity 
 
98 THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 
 
 which hitherto has imparted their greatest charm ? 
 What advantage is it to a woman to know the dark 
 depths of life ? We may rest assured that women, 
 like their mother Eve, will not be content with a little 
 knowledge, but will probe deeply, and eat the forbidden 
 fruit. Why is the rosy morn of life, with its joys, its 
 interests, its indescribable longings, to be but a dream 
 of the past ? Why must the girl, from the threshold 
 of her sweet ignorance, step into womanhood sur- 
 rounded by the cloud of a knowledge which makes 
 her sad and old while still there are years in which 
 she should be young ? We believe that the majority 
 of women would, if asked, declare that such knowledge 
 would only bring sorrow and horror. 
 
 Were we to appeal to men, whose influence has, we 
 are told, created this false position, their reply, we have 
 little doubt, would be that what women must learn of life 
 and its worst possibilities had best be taught them by 
 their husbands. We fear we shall be considered poor 
 champions of our sex in avowing assent ; but we prefer 
 that our daughters should be as little versed in know- 
 ledge of life as their mothers were. We shall lose 
 something of the robust intellectual self-reliance of 
 emancipated girls ; but we shall always have with us the 
 daughters of our hearts, ignorant, wilful, perhaps not 
 always prudent, but with the better armour that inno- 
 cence, romance, and a belief in the illusions of life, 
 must always constitute. The problem is so difficult, 
 so complex, so full of pitfalls, that, if we really come to 
 analyse all the suggestions which are made, we shall 
 
THE REVOLT OF THE DAUGHTERS. 99 
 
 find that no one has ventured to attack the system 
 seriously. It is pleasant to break a lance with custom, 
 and many lances have been shivered by the reformer's 
 onslaught ; but the position of our girls, their educa- 
 tion, and their training, are more momentous than any 
 social tradition yet assailed. The whole fabric of 
 the love between mother and daughter is not to be 
 shattered because the restrictions against hearing Mr. 
 Chevalier sing at Music Halls, seeing The Second 
 Mrs. Tanqueray, and reading Dodo and The Heavenly 
 Twins, are being enforced. That love will continue as 
 long as women do not forfeit the friendship and con- 
 fidence which it is a girl's instinct to give to her 
 mother; and the wise mother, having her affection, 
 will have no difficulty in steering clear of the rocks 
 and shoals which underlie the smoothest currents of 
 life. 
 
 H 2 
 
IOO 
 
 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 Recently we have been favoured with a description 
 of the latest and most brilliant development of this 
 most original age, The Woman of To-day. The 
 feeling left on one's mind after perusal of the article 
 is that of humiliation at one's ignorance. The dis- 
 course is mortifying to anyone who imagines herself 
 in touch with what is called society. One racks 
 one's brain in vain for some resemblance in the 
 woman whom Lady Catherine Gaskell describes among 
 one's friends and acquaintances. Only in a few 
 indistinct peculiarities do we detect any likeness among 
 them to the being, endowed with the superhuman 
 qualities, mental and physical, whom Lady Catherine so 
 graphically sketches. One's chagrin, however, is suc- 
 ceeded by a great relief. Haunted by the nightmare 
 which the perusal of the article gives, one sets oneself 
 with greater diligence to analyse it a second time, and 
 the joyful conviction grows with soothing certainty 
 that such women as Lady Catherine writes of are the 
 few abnormal products of modern society. They can 
 be counted almost on one's fingers, and are as unlike 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 101 
 
 the typical Englishwoman of these days as a Red 
 Indian squaw is unlike a French cocotte. 
 
 At first sight, Lady Catherine's statements and 
 deductions appear plausible. When she says that the 
 conditions of life for women are changed, and that a 
 higher standard in everything is expected of them 
 now-a-days, she is not inaccurate. No one now-a-days 
 is content with what would have been considered 
 perfection thirty years ago. Education has changed 
 the condition of women materially, and the increased 
 freedom which women enjoy has put them on a 
 footing nearer to equality with men. The greater 
 liberty is very much the result of the increasing 
 occupation of men. Fifty years ago life was much 
 more simple. People dwelt in the country, where 
 it was uneventful and monotonous ; very few people 
 were rich enough to come to London ; and there was 
 no moneyed class like that which now-a-days adds to 
 the wants and luxuries of life. The opening of rail- 
 ways and the increased facilities of locomotion have 
 now made London the great centre of society ; and 
 life has become more luxurious, more expensive, 
 and, undoubtedly, somewhat demoralising. Long 
 ago a young married woman was content with her 
 garden, her pony, and her children, and the hum- 
 drum society her country neighbours afforded her, 
 and was content to make her husband's small 
 income suffice for the wants of the household ; 
 but now-a-days two young people launched on 
 a small income are not satisfied until they have a 
 
102 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 large one. Smart dresses, carriages, dinner- 
 parties, and all sorts of social indulgences, are be- 
 coming necessaries of life ; and, in order to attain 
 the positions which will enable them to gratify 
 the desires of their spouses, men go into any business 
 or embrace any profession by which they can become 
 rich rapidly. 
 
 To carry out any career with success, it is abso- 
 lutely necessary that a man's whole attention should 
 be given up to it. His time, therefore, must be 
 spent at his work and away from home, while the 
 woman has the day on her hands. The details of 
 the menage do not take up all her time. She has to 
 find some safety-valve for her superfluous energy ; and 
 her natural outlet, the care of her children, is not 
 sufficient. To those women who are not intellectually 
 inclined, or physically strong, domestic difficulties 
 and the choosing of their clothes engross attention ; 
 but the more daring spirits are not to be deluded by 
 such will-o'-the-wisps. Chance association, or incli- 
 nation gives them a start, and they launch on the 
 ocean of independent occupation. 
 
 In generalizing on the changes that have come over 
 the position of women in England during the last 
 thirty years, it is natural to say that they are sweep- 
 ing ; that the bent of women's ideas, the aims 
 of their lives, have so completely changed that the 
 career of a woman now has no resemblance what- 
 ever to that of her grandmother; but in reality, 
 with one exception, their lives are similar The 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 103 
 
 influences that affect them are the same, and the 
 mission they have to discharge has not changed. It 
 is only in one direction that the lives and interests of 
 women are different ; and, although with different 
 natures results vary, the effect of that change should 
 not be such as to unfit women for any of their duties. 
 The only important change is in their education. 
 Women are not really expected to know more than, or 
 even as much as, formerly ; but what they profess to 
 know they must know accurately. The small drawing- 
 room accomplishments of thirty years ago, which passed 
 muster as the test of an accomplished woman, are 
 obsolete ; the superficial knowledge which a smattering 
 of French and German, a little music, singing, and 
 drawing, gave is no longer considered sufficient ; and, 
 although a woman need know one subject only, it is 
 absolutely necessary, if she aspires to any intellectual 
 or artistic position, that she should be thoroughly 
 versed in it. A much wider knowledge of English 
 literature and history is now part of the necessary 
 curriculum of any woman of position ; and, as many 
 have to earn their living by teaching, the standard has 
 risen, and accuracy is expected. " Shakspeare, the 
 musical glasses, and the use of the globes," are no longer 
 the test subjects in woman's work ; nor do they repre- 
 sent the scope of her knowledge, which may be less 
 superficially comprehensive than formerly; but the lack 
 of variety is more than compensated for by accuracy. 
 It is not necessary for a woman to train herself to main- 
 tain a conversation on every conceivable subject ; nor 
 
104 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 is it expected that she should know the points of a 
 horse, the pedigree of a cow, the latest development 
 of Theosophy, the last theory in Sociology ; nor need 
 she possess the physique of an athlete ; but she is ex- 
 pected to hold her own, on general subjects of interest, 
 against those she may come in contact with. 
 
 All this implies wider knowledge and broader ideas 
 than were possessed by the women of thirty years ago ; 
 but, whilst it has increased the interests and deepened 
 the character of women, it has not created that restless 
 desire to know and to do everything which is, we are 
 now told, the characteristic of the modern woman. 
 
 The effect of better education has been to steady 
 women, to develop the more serious part of their 
 natures. It acts as a stimulus to continued improve- 
 ment, intensifying their desire to learn more of the 
 subjects in which they are interested, feeling most 
 keenly, as they increase their store of intellectual 
 treasures, that they are but on the threshold of a life 
 the possibilities of which fill them with wonder and 
 delight ; and in turning over the leaves of the book 
 of knowledge they find enjoyment and occupation 
 which fill their hitherto empty lives. 
 
 Such a life, full of intense interest and pleasure, 
 involves a strain on the physical endurance of women 
 and girls ; but the strain need not always produce that 
 nervous exhaustion which is the result of great excite- 
 ment combined with physical and mental pressure. It 
 may, however, attack women who are training to make 
 educational work their profession, as it usually comes 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 105 
 
 often at a critical time in a woman's life, when all her 
 strength and vitality are required to enable her to 
 grow and develop, and when her keenness for work 
 and her anxiety to take a good place in her examina- 
 tion are predominant. 
 
 It is in this respect that the increased strain on 
 women's intellectual and physical force comes, not in 
 the effort to compete with men. In the life of women 
 who adopt the higher and sterner professions any 
 attempt to adopt the habits of The Woman of To- 
 day would be not only impossible but repugnant. 
 Howsoever trying, and perhaps injurious, the effect of 
 more exacting education on the constitutions of women 
 may be, one cannot but recognise the opportunities it 
 affords those who desire to avail themselves of an 
 escape from an empty, aimless life. The education 
 of women, the higher intellectual standard required of 
 them, has created a class in England which no other 
 country possesses, or has ever possessed, w T omefi 
 who are able not only to hold their own with men in 
 every branch of learning, but to eclipse them in some ; 
 and it has impressed them with the realities and the 
 dignity of their position, nothing being more striking 
 than the singular modesty and retirement of the most 
 remarkable of modern Englishwomen. 
 
 No woman has ever made any attempt to bring her 
 views before the public without its having cost her the 
 greatest effort to overcome the natural dislike which 
 every delicately-minded woman has to becoming the 
 public exponent of her opinions, and it is significant 
 
io6 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 that those who have taken the most prominent posi- 
 tions in medicine and in other sciences are as remark- 
 able for silence and self-effacement as for the gifts 
 which have placed them in the positions which they 
 occupy. A woman profoundly acquainted with any 
 of the deeper questions of life is too much engrossed 
 by her determination to learn more to attempt to 
 master, even superficially, any other subject. The 
 parrot-like volubility of women who take up every 
 subject is recognised as a sure sign of ignorance. Is 
 it possible that anyone could have a profound know- 
 ledge of the hundred subjects upon which some women 
 suppose it necessary to be informed ? A man devotes 
 all his life to one subject, and at the end of years of 
 research only knows enough to realise how great his 
 ignorance is ; yet some women think that because they 
 have mastered the jargon of a few affairs of more 
 or less abstract interest they are qualified to preach 
 opinions which are of value. 
 
 The fact is that the curse of to-day, the drawback 
 under which every woman with any intellectual as- 
 pirations labours, is the difficulty of knowing any 
 one subject more than superficially. Lady Catherine 
 Gaskell is right, in a certain sense, in saying that 
 women now-a-days must know about every subject ; 
 but it is only women of a certain class who consider it 
 necessary, and that class is principally of women in 
 good society. The conventional restraints which 
 affected aristocratic society long after they had been 
 cast aside by other classes did tend to narrow the 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 107 
 
 interests and lives of women belonging to it ; but many 
 women accepted with avidity the relaxation and free- 
 dom it brought them, and took up in a more or less 
 superficial way a great many different subjects of 
 intellectual interest, as well as many occupations 
 thitherto denied them. Like bees flying from flower to 
 flower, they sipped what pleased, amused, and inter- 
 ested, imbibing just as much knowledge as would pass 
 for current Thought. With the middle-class woman 
 another aspect of life was opened. The relaxation of 
 restraints not only gave her independence, and a pos- 
 sibility of earning her livelihood ; but it impressed her 
 with a sense of the importance and solemnity of her 
 position. Thus it has continued, bringing to the one 
 class of women a large and varied round of amuse- 
 ments, and to the other a deepened sense of the value 
 of the career that is open to them ; and, as a result, 
 we find all the intellectual and professional women 
 belonging to the middle classes, while the political and 
 social developments of women are confined almost ex- 
 clusively to the upper class. 
 
 Lady Catherine dwells on the attention which women 
 must pay now-a-days to the arrangement of their house- 
 holds, and to the important question of the kitchen. No 
 woman in modern society knows how to set about the 
 A B C of her grandmother's work. She could not dust 
 a room, or tell her cook how to make the most ele- 
 mentary dishes. Among the upper classes, or where 
 people are rich, everything in the household devolves 
 upon the servants. There is a good cook and a good 
 
io8 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 butler, and the mistress never need give anything a 
 thought. Everything is done in regular routine. A 
 hostess, either in London or in the country, can sit 
 down to her dinner-table, with her eighteen or twenty 
 guests, in the absolute certainty that there will not be 
 a hitch, although she has probably not seen her cook 
 since she ordered dinner ; and so it is with the minor 
 requirements of modern life. The cheap artistic deco- 
 rations in stuffs, china, furniture, and carpets, which 
 can be procured everywhere, have reduced the greatest 
 difficulty a housewife had to contend with namely, 
 how to make her house look pretty at small expense. 
 A little skill and taste, which entail no fatigue or effort, 
 suffice to make the interior of the smallest house 
 effective, and give it a character of its own. Contrast 
 the position of a woman thirty years ago with regard 
 to those two matters alone, and it is easy to see how 
 infinitely less trouble we have to-day. The difficulties 
 with regard to expense and material have entirely dis- 
 appeared, and a woman's natural taste enables her to 
 gratify almost any ambition she may have in those 
 matters. It would be easy to multiply the ways in 
 which women are not required to make anything like 
 the effort it cost their mothers and grandmothers to 
 carry out the few amusements of their lives. How 
 well we all remember what an event a dinner-party 
 was in the days of our childhood ! How the whole 
 household was pressed into the service ; how the 
 family plate was taken out days before and cleaned, 
 the chintz covers removed in the state rooms, clean 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 109 
 
 curtains put up ; and, when the eventful day arrived, 
 how the mistress of the house was occupied from early 
 morning superintending the details ! How well one 
 remembers the jam-making and other annual culinary 
 operations, all of which were overlooked by the 
 mistress, who was not only expected to know and criti- 
 cise, but to carry out her directions personally ; 
 and then the shooting parties, which were a source 
 of endless satisfaction to the male guests, but a great 
 anxiety to their hostess ! All the small details relating 
 to the bedrooms, such as seeing the fires lighted, the 
 beds aired, and all the necessary accessories of a 
 party, fell on the hostess, and only when her guests 
 departed did she throw off the sense of anxiety 
 which hospitality entailed. Now-a-days, no mistress 
 need think of such small things. Her well-trained 
 housekeeper attends to all those matters ; and, unless 
 she likes to see for herself, it is unnecessary for her to 
 trouble her head on the subject. 
 
 These are small matters ; but, when they are cited 
 as instances of the variety of cares which women now- 
 a-days have to contend with, it is as well to show that 
 they are not to be compared with the responsibilities 
 and work which women had to undertake thirty 
 years ago. So it is in all such matters. It may be that 
 more neatness, more comfort, more artistic circum- 
 stance, are required of women in their homes than 
 were expected formerly ; but the facilities for pro- 
 viding them are endless, and the cost is much less. 
 Thus the work cannot be greater, and it seems hardly 
 
no THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 worth while to quote such matters as examples of 
 the great accumulation of responsibilities which are 
 crowded on the shoulders of the women of to-day 
 with regard to domestic concerns. The same facilities 
 apply to dress, an important and engrossing subject. 
 Materials are less expensive and prettier, and the 
 variety is endless ; flowers, ribbons, laces, all the 
 chiffons of women's clothes, are abundant and cheap ; 
 and we know, when we see the smartly-dressed 
 daughters of the country doctor, or of the clergyman, 
 how much more cheaply, easily, and tastefully, they 
 are able to dress than their mothers were. All those 
 facts tend to prove that the pitch of excellence 
 expected from a woman is not more difficult to attain, 
 but infinitely easier, than it was for her mother. 
 In all classes it is the same : only that it entails less 
 effort on the part of a woman in society, such as Lady 
 Catherine describes, than in the case of people who 
 are poorer. The whole day's programme is one which 
 is as easy to carry out and enjoy as anything one can 
 imagine. It is entirely dependent on the proficiency 
 of servants ; and the possession of such assistance is 
 only a question of money. 
 
 It is, however, quite possible for women, with all 
 the fatigue-saving apparatus which ample means give, 
 to be quite as busy and overworked as Lady Fanny 
 Clermont, whose day's occupation Lady Catherine 
 describes. That wonderful product of to-day, with her 
 superhuman capabilities and iron constitution, may be 
 as fussy as other women, and may possibly, like 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. in 
 
 her inferior sisters, be of a jealous temperament, not 
 liking anyone to help her in her duties, because she is 
 morbidly afraid of losing her power. Women are 
 jealous about their husbands, children, lovers ; but 
 there is nothing a woman cares for so much, and is so 
 jealous of, as power, and the more capable and ener- 
 getic she is the more tenaciously she keeps the reins 
 in her own hands. Jealousy often explains why the 
 most capable women never attain to perfection in their 
 work. Although it is absolutely impossible for them to 
 undertake everything themselves, they are too jealous 
 to entrust it to any subordinate. This weakness is 
 being intensified by the endless work undertaken by 
 many women who have neither time nor capacity to 
 carry it out. There is \vith them a tendency to 
 exaggerate the amount of work they get through, and 
 the labour it entails ; because, although they may be 
 capable of originating, they are often very unmethodical 
 in practice, and add to the burden by their want of 
 system. It is small weaknesses like these, which are 
 essentially feminine, that impress women with the im- 
 portance of the efforts they make and the herculean 
 strength which they require to accomplish them. 
 Women have little sense of proportion, and are apt 
 to throw themselves with unbridled energy into any 
 purpose they care about ; and, as a woman's life is made 
 up of infinitely small cares, they become multiplied 
 indefinitely, and very little more is needed to pro- 
 duce a woman like the one we have just been intro- 
 duced to. 
 
ii2 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 It is only in England that such lives are possible for 
 women, or that there is any desire on their part to 
 adopt them. In France women have neither consti- 
 tution nor capacity for a life of such infinite variety. 
 In Germany women are housewives, and nothing more. 
 Any chance of the education and development they may 
 have hoped for, had the Empress Frederick reigned 
 long enough, has disappeared ; and the opinions of the 
 present Emperor on the position of women are not 
 likely to cause an improvement. In Italy and in Russia 
 intellectual life and improvement among women is 
 confined almost entirely to the middle classes, the 
 aristocracy holding to the old conservative feelings on 
 the subject. In America, where equality and freedom 
 are their natural inheritance, the restless life full of 
 varied occupations, and the love and craving for excite- 
 ment, do not exist. Their intellectual and political life 
 is not trammelled in any way ; but in America, as in 
 all other countries, the monopoly of intelligence and 
 capacity is not possessed by the aristocratic class, 
 which is quite content to devote itself to amusement, 
 the more serious business being relegated to the 
 women who have to work for their living, who 
 apparently realise, as women of the same class 
 in England do, the importance and value of the 
 change that education has caused. Among the middle 
 classes in England there is very little change out- 
 wardly. The same quiet, easygoing life, the same 
 sense of duty, the same deep family affection, are 
 their distinctive qualities ; and, whatever the effects 
 
UNIVERSITY 
 
 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 of the change that has come over women of the upper 
 classes may be, there is no reason to suppose that 
 it has yet affected the classes below in any great 
 degree, or that the backbone of English society, the 
 respectable and well-to-do middle classes, view the 
 lives and careers of their womenkind from a point of 
 view other than that which regulated them thirty 
 years ago. 
 
 That the woman described as The Woman of To-day 
 is a reality no one, unfortunately, can deny ; but she 
 exists entirely for her own edification. No one wants 
 her to take up such a role, and when she has launched 
 on her career she is an object of anything but admira- 
 tion or envy. It gives no man any sense of pleasure 
 to see a woman stumping the country, or wading 
 through turnips, with or without her gun ; and if she 
 does not win his admiration and approbation she has 
 lamentably failed. The truth is that such women lead 
 this life simply because it amuses them. No one wants 
 them to become inferior men ; but the life of excite- 
 ment interests them. The notoriety, coupled with the 
 easily-won applause of a crowd, who would cheer a 
 juggler swallowing knives and plates, they misinterpret 
 for admiration ; and, having begun with the notion that 
 a woman's mission is to be as busy as possible with 
 every subject that attracts her attention, they start on 
 their self-imposed mission with all the zeal of proselytes 
 and the impulsiveness of their sex. One cannot but 
 admit that a woman possessed of the energy and 
 
 enthusiasm necessary to lead such a life must be 
 
 I 
 
ii4 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 possessed of more than average capacity. The natural 
 outlet for all superabundant energy in a woman ought 
 to be her home and her home interests, and those are 
 so far-reaching and so comprehensive that they should 
 afford her ample occupation ; but, as they are humdrum 
 and monotonous, she goes farther afield. Charitable 
 enterprise offers a wide scope of activity to women ; but 
 the routine soon palls, and some more exciting interest 
 becomes a necessity; and where can a woman show 
 herself off to better advantage than in the political 
 arena? The glib power of expressing herself, which 
 is a distinctly feminine gift, is pre-eminently useful ; 
 her knowledge is quite sufficient, superficial though it 
 is, to enable her to string together sentences more or 
 less wordy and confusing. " Politics " is a very elastic 
 word, embracing many social subjects on which she 
 can speak with a certain authority ; and, when she 
 has exhausted all such matters, what more glorious 
 duty can devolve on her than that of appealing, in 
 impassioned perorations to Heaven and to the Masses, 
 in behalf of the Union of Hearts ? 
 
 Twenty years ago the monopoly of feminine oratory 
 was possessed by the Liberals ; and the " shrieking sister- 
 hood," though the apostles of an unsavoury cause, were at 
 any rate sincere in their determination to press the dis- 
 agreeable subject of their crusade on the world ; and they 
 were tolerated (though spoken of in whispers), it always 
 being admitted, as extenuation of their misdemean- 
 ours, that they were Radicals. All that is changed. 
 The women of England have entered the lists, and in 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 115 
 
 the new departure have thrown aside all the dis- 
 tinctive qualities which were once the pride and glory 
 of Englishwomen. Fortunately, our girls have so 
 far escaped. The sudden emancipation and develop- 
 ment of the New Women has not touched them; 
 but the golden circlet and the orange blossoms break 
 the charm, and the modest maiden soon blooms into 
 a " female propagandist." One does not, happily, 
 see why Englishwomen, until they marry, should be 
 different from their mothers and grandmothers. The 
 modern political mother has neither time nor inclina- 
 tion to have her girls much with her. Even if 
 she were as remarkable a woman as Lady Fanny 
 Clermont, and could write abstruse articles on com- 
 plex subjects with her children romping and tearing 
 round the room, the time allotted to such relaxation 
 must be limited, and her daughters must remain in 
 the obscurity of the school-room till they "come 
 out" and have an insight into the life and training 
 which have made their mother one of the most dis- 
 tinguished public characters of the day. There is no 
 limit to the occupations and subjects such women take 
 up. They are insatiable, and incapable of fatigue; and 
 the more serious subjects in life are varied by experi- 
 ments in other modes of existence. They may be frivo- 
 lous, or religious, or Bohemian, as well as political ; and 
 if their constitutions are good they may be everything, 
 and are prepared to flood the world with their know- 
 ledge. If we think for a moment of the life of the so- 
 called typical Woman of To-day, it is difficult to imagine 
 
 I 2 
 
u6 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 anything more demoralising mentally, or more deterio- 
 rating physically. The long day which ends only 
 when the dawn is breaking must bring endless hours of 
 weariness and fatigue. Such a life is one which must 
 necessarily sap and wear out the constitution of any 
 woman, howsoever strong. No one can live at such 
 high pressure, for the perpetual burning of the candle 
 at both ends can only have one result. Work or 
 fatigue can be borne ; but the strain of physical fatigue 
 and mental exhaustion combined must break the 
 strongest. The hard-worked man saves himself only 
 because when the pressure is on him he relinquishes 
 all other occupations, and in what leisure he allows 
 himself he takes repose. 
 
 Consider, again, women who are obliged to work for 
 their living, either by literary work or by music. 
 Rest is as much a necessity for them as food, and 
 what time they can spare for amusement or relaxa- 
 tion is usually devoted to distractions of the mildest 
 kind. No person who has to earn a living could 
 by any possibility lead such a life as the one Lady 
 Catherine describes. The fatigue she must undergo 
 would exhaust her so much that her work would 
 deteriorate under the double effort. Human en- 
 durance will only support a certain strain, and the 
 limit must be over-stepped in the life depicted by 
 Lady Catherine. We may, therefore, take it for 
 granted that she does not consider her woman a repre- 
 sentative of English women generally, but only typical 
 of a class. Unfortunately, as I have said, the most pro- 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 117 
 
 minent and well-known of those women belong to the 
 upper classes, who give a tone to others ; and, as all 
 classes are influenced by those above them, the influ- 
 ence of The Woman of To-day is, unfortunately, strong 
 and increasing. It has not yet much affected the classes 
 below ; but, as it is becoming the fashion for women 
 of the upper classes to lead lives of excitement and 
 unrest, it cannot fail to spread, and the injury it will 
 inflict on the nation is certain to be serious. Imitation 
 is the sincerest flattery, and in no way is the admira- 
 tion of the lower for the upper classes more distinctly 
 shown than it is in their dress and amusements. The 
 women servants are but an edition, on a less refined 
 but more brilliant scale, of the manners and gowns of 
 their mistresses ; and in their way they like to partake 
 of their mistresses' amusements and occupations, and 
 only want of leisure prevents them from being more 
 faithful counterfeits. It is not, however, only for those 
 reasons that the lives of a great many women are bad 
 for themselves as well as for others. The life of 
 excitement they lead is worse than any dram-drinking; 
 and its effects are more abidingly injurious, not to them- 
 selves alone but to their children. We are already 
 beginning to see in a small way the result it will 
 have, in future generations, in the numbers of delicate 
 and weakly children that are under continual medical 
 supervision from their infancy. Nervous, rickety, and 
 bloodless, they are the natural offspring of the over- 
 strung, sensitive mothers. If we contrast the bringing- 
 up of children thirty or forty years ago with the care 
 
n8 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 that is of necessity taken of children now, we see that 
 they have not inherited the constitutions of their grand- 
 parents. Anaemia, indigestion, want of blood, and 
 rickets, the most common and troublesome of all 
 childrens' complaints, are indications that the young 
 generation have not the same vitality as their prede- 
 cessors. Nervous exhaustion and heart-weakness are 
 the two fashionable maladies, for the old-fashioned com- 
 plaints common to women seem to have disappeared. 
 Private homes and hospitals are growing up in London 
 and elsewhere for what are called "paying patients," and 
 they are tenanted by a class of women quite different 
 from any that have undergone such treatment before. 
 The scale of payment proclaims their position ; and 
 they are all nearly cases of hysteria or nervous exhaus- 
 tion, the result of unnatural life. It is impossible 
 to expect any other results ; and, unless the condi- 
 tions of life for women change, we must look forward 
 to generations of men and women growing up physi- 
 cally weaker, and wanting in all the qualities which 
 have made our men strong, and our women wives and 
 mothers that have given sons to England whose hearts, 
 hands, and brains, have made us great. It would, 
 indeed, be a serious matter to contemplate anything 
 like a permanent general deterioration in the physical 
 or nervous strength of English women ; but there is 
 one fact which, happily, must eventually overcome all 
 the fits and fashions of the day. In the very weakness 
 which one cannot but deplore will be found the 
 remedy. 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 119 
 
 No one has ever disputed the physical superiority of 
 men over women ; and, although the question of mental 
 superiority will continue to vex generations, upon 
 whatever platform of intellectual equality they may 
 eventually alight, women must always be weaker than 
 men. Constitutional weakness prevents a woman from 
 working many days in the year, and in that fact alone 
 lies one important cause of the difference ; but the 
 inexorable law which has laid on woman the greatest 
 work of nature is her safeguard. Women will find, 
 when the strain of their extraneous work begins to tell 
 on them, as it has already done, that the one function 
 imperatively required of them needs all the physical 
 strength they can spare, and that in that, and not in at- 
 tempting to be inferior men, must their lives be spent. 
 The cares of maternity are not pleasing to The Woman 
 of To-day. If the testimony of those who are able to 
 judge about such matters is to be credited, there is a 
 strong inclination among them not to increase them 
 inconveniently, and families are much smaller than they 
 were twenty years ago. A rather amusing instance of 
 the opinions of a well-known personage who officiates 
 on certain domestic occasions was given by someone who 
 naively said that her monthly nurse had complained 
 bitterly of the badness of her trade ; and it requires 
 no great effort to understand how very much the fact 
 of having children must make a life of amusement 
 and excitement impossible for a woman. Child-bearing 
 occupies the best years of a woman's life ; when she is 
 strongest, most beautiful, and best able to amuse her- 
 
120 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 self; and Nature wisely arranged it so, that she might 
 give her best to the children she is to bring forth ; and 
 the object of The Woman of To-day is to frustrate that 
 arrangement. She may do so to a certain extent ; but 
 in the tussle with the great mother of all she must 
 come off worsted ; and, although she beat her wings 
 like an imprisoned bird against the bars of her cage, 
 Nature smiles at her attempts to rid herself of what 
 is a great inconvenience. It is only because of the 
 impossibility of combining their lives of amusement 
 and pleasure with the duties of maternity that women 
 dislike having children ; for, as everything else has 
 been made easier to them in these days, so the use of 
 anaesthetics has done away with the terrors of child- 
 birth ; and after the baby is laid in its mother's arms 
 there is nothing left for her of sorrow and pain save the 
 fear and joy which are so inextricably mixed up in the 
 deepest feelings of maternity. What greater pride or 
 pleasure is there for any woman than to be the mother 
 of a great man, to know that her child has taken his 
 place in the roll of distinguished Englishmen? and what 
 nobler mission than training and guiding the little lives 
 dependent on her? 
 
 Women much over-rate the pleasure and delights of 
 the one career, and vastly under-rate the solid and per- 
 manent happiness of the career which Nature intended 
 them to follow, the career from which, struggle as they 
 may, they cannot escape. In the inexorable laws of 
 Nature, there is ample security that things will right 
 themselves. A few years must show English women 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 121 
 
 that they cannot burn the candle at both ends, and that 
 the life of high pressure they are striving to follow 
 must infallibly break them down. Women will gradually 
 accept the stern fact that, first of all, they must be 
 wives and mothers. Then they can be whatever their 
 strength and leisure will allow. Women can have as 
 much political and social influence as will satisfy the 
 most insatiable ambition ; but they must be content to 
 exercise it in their legitimate sphere, and not encroach 
 on ground fitted only for stronger wills and rougher 
 natures. At all times in England the influence of 
 women has been felt and recognised, not openly, or as 
 the result of competition, but because men have always 
 acknowledged that in all the important events of 
 their lives a woman has been the arbiter of their 
 destiny. The history of the world ought to con- 
 sole the most restless and ambitious of her sex. She 
 has but to remember that in all the great movements 
 that have influenced mankind some woman has borne 
 more than her share of the responsibility. Emancipate 
 or make herself as masculine as she will, she can 
 never have more power than she already possesses. 
 Without wandering from the narrowest path of a 
 woman's career, she has ample scope for as much good 
 or as much evil as she wills. She is, and always 
 must be, physically and intellectually inferior to 
 the man ; but in many qualities she is infinitely his 
 superior ; and his tacit acknowledgment of that 
 superiority, in the chivalry, devotion, and respect of 
 men, is all she should ask. The Woman of To-day 
 
122 THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 
 
 may be of stronger fibre and more commanding influ- 
 ence ; but her power must be won by her wits, and 
 she will have to fight for its possession ; for she will 
 never win the love, devotion, and tenderness, that 
 less capable but more womanly women than she com- 
 mand. 
 
 In politics, in religion, in societ}^, in all the questions 
 of life which affect women deeply, The New Woman, 
 with her political aspirations, her religious opinions, 
 and her advanced social theories, will play a prominent 
 though perhaps not lovely part ; but experience will 
 show her that, in the long run, the less ambitious 
 woman will have the best of her. The restless, un- 
 satisfied longings of women for a sphere of unlimited 
 activity will work their own cure ; and not only for 
 physical reasons, but also for reasons of expediency, 
 they will see the wisdom of returning to the ways of 
 their mothers and grandmothers. The hot fit of 
 excitement will pass, and reason will reassert its 
 sway. The quiet joys of home, the love of husband 
 and children, the constant thought of them and 
 their welfare, to the effacement of herself, will 
 return with all the delight of novelty ; and she will 
 be at peace. She will have lost nothing, and gained 
 immeasurably, by the change. She will still be 
 politically powerful perhaps more so than when she 
 claimed her rights. Her life will be full of varied and 
 intricate interests. Only, she will change the scene of 
 her activity and influence : from outside to her own 
 home. The care for and thought of husband and children, 
 
THE WOMAN OF TO-DAY. 123 
 
 thitherto relegated to wet days, will resume their 
 place of pre-eminence, and she will willingly exchange 
 the vulgar applause of a crowd for the smile and the 
 tenderness that tell her of pleasures and powers which 
 were lost in the excited whirl. The soft faces of her 
 children, their fond kisses, and the little arms thrown 
 lovingly round her neck, will be sweeter far 
 than the theories of Universal Brotherhood and the 
 Equality of Man and Woman which gave her such 
 satisfaction in the past ; and one by one, as the crude 
 opinions and convictions drop away, she will find that 
 only since she renounced what then appeared to her a 
 creed full of the purest and highest aspirations has she 
 really learned to live, and that in striving to be all- 
 powerful she was weak, and that in acknowledging her 
 weakness she is strong. 
 
I2 4 
 
 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 There was a time, within the memory of many of us, 
 when it was an accepted fact that English women did 
 not know how to dress, and no one would have had 
 the courage to deny that taste in dress or in adorn- 
 ment was to be found only among the French. French 
 women have hitherto always enjoyed the reputa- 
 tion of being the best and most-expensively dressed 
 women, and set the fashions for the rest of the world. 
 The late Empress of the French, in the heyday of her 
 beauty and power, paid much attention to the matter, 
 and her luxury and expenditure gave the great impetus 
 to French taste and fashion in the matter of clothes. 
 The never-ending succession of fitcs at the Tuileries 
 and St. Cloud, which were continued even in the 
 country life of the French Court, taxed the inventive 
 taste of the first French modistes, and gave birth to the 
 kaleidoscopic change of fashions which alone satisfied 
 that pleasure-loving society. The most costly silks and 
 velvets were made to deck out the French aristocracy 
 of the Second Empire for the gorgeous soirees and 
 receptions of the brilliant and beautiful Eugenie, while 
 at Fontainebleau fantastic and expensive toilettes dc 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 125 
 
 campagne were invented and worn to add zest and colour 
 to the life of enjoyment which was played at beneath 
 the spreading trees and in the glades of that most 
 enchanting scene. French taste was copied and 
 adopted in England, and women of fashion or 
 style bought their smartest garments in Paris, or 
 procured them from English modistes intimately asso- 
 ciated with the smartest French milliners ; but until 
 quite recently, owing to the difficulty of communication, 
 the costliness of the materials, and the high price asked 
 by the foreign milliners, the majority contented them- 
 selves with the cheaper and less original English 
 dresses. The increased facilities of communication, 
 and the cheapening of all material for dress, added to the 
 impetus given to fashion by the luxury and gaiety of 
 the French Court, which, spreading in a lesser measure 
 to England, produced a revival of taste founded on 
 French ideas. Paris undoubtedly still takes the lead 
 in new fashions ; but in England we make what 
 modifications and changes we find suitable to our 
 English ideas, and do not continue our slavish 
 obedience to the French conceptions. 
 
 Woman's taste and influence on fashion have done a 
 great deal towards improving our ideas in England. 
 Cheap postal rates and cheap fashion -books have 
 aided further. There is no country vicarage, no small 
 middle-class family in the most remote part of England, 
 that cannot procure a journal of fashions in which 
 the gowns worn by the richest and most conspicuous 
 women are depicted, together with those suitable to 
 
126 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 a humbler and simpler life, with the minutest des- 
 cription of how to carry out the designs, as well as 
 patterns that can be copied by the veriest neophyte ; 
 and nothing is more striking than the well-cut and 
 smart gowns that one sees at any lawn-tennis or after- 
 noon party, or county ball, worn by the daughters of 
 men of narrowly limited income. There are now in 
 every country town first-rate dressmakers who are 
 prepared to turn out a gown that would do credit to 
 any London milliner, and the shops provide a variety 
 of material which makes dressing well, without much 
 taste or knowledge, a very easy thing to those who 
 have money to spend. Much money is not even a 
 necessity. With the extraordinary cheapness of dress- 
 material, the actual cost is easily within the limits of 
 the most slender allowance. The same is true of the 
 most important items, perhaps, of women's dress, 
 namely, gloves, boots, shoes, and stockings, all of which 
 are about forty per cent, cheaper than they were thirty 
 years ago ; and all articles of millinery, such as 
 feathers, flowers, and ribbons, are equally moderate in 
 price. I do not suppose that anyone will question the 
 truth of the statement as to the increased cheapness of 
 all articles of dress, or as to the improved facilities for 
 dressing well that are now at hand ; but, at the same 
 time, no one can deny that people spend more, and 
 that in every way the cost of dressing has increased 
 as much as the cost of material has diminished. This, 
 perhaps, is not true of all classes ; but of the upper, 
 the upper-middle, and the middle classes, it certainly 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 127 
 
 is. It may be interesting to examine the causes which 
 have produced this, and also to show that even to the 
 class which should have benefited by the increased 
 cheapness of production (I mean the poorer or working 
 class) it has not been an unmixed blessing. 
 
 If we look back forty years, and take as example 
 any woman of the upper classes, and recall to our 
 minds how she dressed and what variety she allowed 
 herself in clothes, we shall see what a vast change has 
 come. From 300 to ^400 a year was considered 
 very large pin-money for a woman who, from 
 rank and fortune, was expected to dress better than 
 her neighbours. Her wardrobe probably consisted of 
 one or two good silks, costing about from 8 to 12 
 each, generally a velvet gown, and one or two common 
 gowns for every-day wear. Her evening gowns cost 
 about 10 or 12, that for very smart ones, and her 
 Court dress probably about 2$. What bonnets she 
 had cost about 1 each, and 305. was an outrageously 
 extravagant price to pay for one. Gloves and shoes 
 were a small item ; for, although particular kinds of 
 both are made cheaper now than they were made 
 then, in. her day there was only one quality, and that 
 of the very best. To a woman requiring only such a 
 (to our modern ideas) modest allowance of gowns, the 
 pin-money was sufficient. It must not be supposed 
 that in the instance I am quoting her life was entirely 
 a country one. The London season was a more im- 
 portant episode, for the difficulties of moving were 
 much more serious than now ; and many families, having 
 
128 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 come to London when Parliament met, remained for six 
 months. Girls were in similar case. From ^100 to 
 ^"150 was a very large allowance for the daughters of 
 the woman whose expenditure we have indicated : that 
 included Court dress and riding habits, large items in 
 a girl's allowance. Girls hardly ever wore silk gowns 
 certainly never velvet, and the materials of which 
 their clothes were made were of the simplest and 
 plainest nature. A ball-gown was of white tarlatan, 
 which cost about 3, or, if a very smart one, of net, 
 made with endless skirts over a silk petticoat, when 
 the wearer was well enough off to afford it ; and occa- 
 sionally flowers were used to trim the skirt of the 
 dress. In the country, girls wore the plainest gowns, 
 and changed them only for dinner : a tea-gown was un- 
 known, and cotton prints and muslins were the usual 
 material for summer and warm weather. Hats and 
 bonnets were plain and cheap ; often one was bought 
 in London, and copied by the lady's-maid for the other 
 daughters of the family. 
 
 A lady's-maid was a more important person than she 
 is now. She made many of the dresses worn by her 
 mistress, and altered and turned them when they had 
 become shabby. She was not the glorified half-French 
 dressmaker a first-rate maid is to-day. The cut was 
 much less accurate, and dresses did not fit like gloves, 
 which is now indispensable in a smart gown. Maids 
 earned much lower wages. 20 was considered very 
 high ; whereas 40 or $o is not at all out of the way 
 for a first-rate French maid now. No class encourage 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 129 
 
 the constant change of fashion more than they, for 
 every gown discarded by their mistress is theirs, and 
 they wear it or sell it ; if they wear it, they often look 
 smarter in it than its original owner looked. There 
 was much less variety in dress formerly ; clothes lasted 
 much longer, and women wore the same gown for a 
 greater length of time ; and, with modes that changed 
 less often, a gown took longer to become old-fashioned. 
 Plainness of dress, the rule among the rich and well- 
 born, was in greater measure the rule among the less 
 exalted. The wife of a small country gentleman, or 
 clergyman, living always in the country, had perhaps 
 her two day-gowns and her one evening-gown a year, 
 and her daughters were apparelled with equal simplicity. 
 They bought their things at the best draper's in the 
 nearest large country town, and the local dressmaker 
 one of the busiest and most important personages in 
 the locality made them up. I well remember the 
 dressmaker of a large county town in Scotland who 
 went from one house to another making up the dresses 
 of the neighbourhood : and how keen was the com- 
 petition for her services ! She copied the one or two 
 mantles and gowns got from London ; and did so with 
 fidelity and taste, although nowadays her productions 
 would be considered a violence to form and fashion. 
 
 Such was the manner in which the majority of 
 women in England contrived to dress themselves. It 
 was primitive ; but it was as interesting and important 
 as the gorgeous toilettes worn by ladies of fashion 
 nowadays ; and the home-made things produced much 
 
130 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 pleasure in the minds of their wearers. The pur- 
 chase of a silk or a satin gown in those days was a 
 great event. The gown cost a great deal. It was of the 
 best quality ; and it often lasted a lifetime certainly 
 for years. One can easily see how good all material 
 was by the wardrobes which still remain in some 
 old houses, and are only now produced for theatrical 
 purposes. The satins and the brocades which stood 
 by themselves are no fiction, but realities; and in the 
 goodness of the material lay the secret of the economy 
 in dress. All material, whether silk or stuff, w r as much 
 dearer ; but it was so much better that it lasted twice 
 the time, and there was, therefore, no necessity for the 
 constant change of fashion which the introduction of 
 cheaper stuffs has brought about, the excellence of the 
 material more than compensating for the expense of 
 making it up. 
 
 The cheapening of materials has been brought about 
 only by lowering the standard of excellence ; and in 
 no case are the cheap goods of to-day to be compared 
 in wear or in quality with those sold years ago, which 
 wore until the wearers were tired of them, and lasted 
 for years, and only at long intervals gladdened the 
 heart of the lady's-maid by becoming hers. The silks 
 and the satins of to-day are half-cotton. No better 
 example can be mentioned than the endless quantities 
 of so-called satins which, being cheap, are the only 
 things w T omen will look at. They consist principally 
 of a heavy cotton warp with the slightest film of silk 
 shot over it, and a basting of paste which is technically 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 131 
 
 known as "potage." The appearance of many such 
 satins is not unfamiliar after a few days' wear, or 
 half-an-hour before a fire, when the lustrous sheen 
 disappears, and the glory of the satin is departed. 
 This is true also of woollen goods, made of short staple 
 wools dyed in the piece, instead of, as formerly, in the 
 yarn, some of which tear and wear into holes before 
 they have been many weeks in use. The cost of 
 making-up such rubbish is just as great as if the 
 material were the costliest ; for the expense of making- 
 up has almost doubled, and for one good dress two or 
 three of the inferior quality are required, and the cost 
 is doubled or trebled by the extra making-up. The 
 greatly-increased expenditure in dress lies in the 
 making-up of clothes. We all know that in estimating 
 the expense of a gown the cost of the material is the 
 most unimportant item ; and no remark is more familiar, 
 in discussing such matters, than, in answer to an ex- 
 clamation as to the expense of a gown, " O 1 but I paid 
 nothing for the stuff 1 " The tailor-made gown is one 
 of the prettiest but most expensive of fashions ; for 
 women generally find their own cloth or homespun, 
 and the tailor's charges are enormously in excess of 
 the cost of the material. The materials for two such 
 gowns were bought the other day in the Highlands for 
 ;4, and the tailor's charge for making the gowns was 
 15 a-piece. It is in the expense of making-up that 
 the greatly increased cost of dress is to be found. 
 There are other causes, of which the main ones are 
 (a) The rise in salaries and wages (especially for 
 
 K 2 
 
1 32 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 best hands), which are double or treble those of thirty 
 years ago. 
 
 (b) The shortening of the hours of work, which are 
 now regulated by law. This, perhaps, is the greatest 
 element in work-room expenses. Formerly, in the 
 press of the season, perhaps for two months, all hands 
 worked till midnight if necessary, and, as a rule, 
 worked willingly, to get their employers over the 
 pinch ; certainly in good houses the extra work was 
 willingly done. Under the Factory Acts, work-rooms 
 can be open only for a limited period of hours, and 
 heavy penalties are inflicted for infringements of the 
 law. In order that the work of to-day may be over- 
 taken, the staff has been largely increased ; and, in order 
 that the staff shall remain efficient, it has to be kept 
 together throughout the year, whether there is work 
 or not. Good work-room hands cannot be got together 
 and dismissed as business fluctuates. 
 
 (c) The fashions of late years which have entailed ex- 
 cessively elaborate fa<;ons. The cost of manual labour 
 and the work-room expenses entailed in carrying out 
 the fantastic requirements of an ever-changing mode 
 have become proportionately heavier. 
 
 (d ) Formerly a few leading " models," well selected 
 in Paris, and typical of the fashions prevailing during 
 the season, would suffice ; and by these the best-dressed 
 ladies in the land were content to be guided in their 
 selection and orders. Now ladies expect to see new 
 models and a new fashion almost every week ; if new 
 ones do not exist, they have to be invented. The 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 133 
 
 enormous quantity of work to be turned out to satisfy 
 the craze for varied dresses, and the consequent large 
 rise in wages, salaries, and establishments, entail a 
 very appreciable effort among dressmakers to obtain 
 efficient hands. This, with the short hours of work r 
 fully accounts for the costly item of making-up. 
 
 The foregoing reasons are nearly sufficient in them- 
 selves to show why dressing costs so very much more 
 now than it formerly cost ; but by far the most potent 
 cause is the craze among women to over-dress them- 
 selves and multiply their gowns. It is no uncommon 
 thing for people to wear four or five gowns a day ; 
 and, much as many women in London err in this 
 respect, perhaps a smart country house is the best 
 place in which to see the grievous extent to which the 
 luxe is carried. It used not to be necessary to vary 
 one's clothes so often, nor was it akin to social sin to 
 be seen twice during a visit in the same gown ; but 
 no smartly-dressed woman with any respect for her 
 reputation in that respect would allow such a calamity 
 now. Gowns must be changed : morning, walking, 
 afternoon, evening, each has its separate apparel ; and 
 the tea-gown, which is an invention of the last few 
 years, is perhaps the most gorgeous and extravagant 
 in the list. Who does not know the aspect of a 
 magnificently -furnished drawing-room in a large 
 country house at 5.30, with its well-shaded lamps and 
 candles throwing a subdued light over a scene as 
 brilliant as any evening entertainment, where the 
 brocades and silks and lace and flashing jewels make 
 
134 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 all observers rub their eyes, and wonder whether this 
 fairy-scene is not a dream ? Still, the scene at dinner 
 outdoes the tea-party a thousandfold. It used to be 
 said that women dressed to please men. If so, those 
 days are passed. Now they dress to outvie one 
 another. At least, one cannot but think so, for, as 
 a rule, men notice the ensemble only : the details are 
 absolutely thrown away on them : and if the object of 
 women were to attract men a much smaller outlay 
 would suffice. It is not only the outward garment 
 that is splendid and varied : another modern expense 
 in the dress of women is the magnificence of their 
 underlinen. Every article of a smartly-dressed woman's 
 linen is a work of art. The finest linen and the 
 costliest laces are de rigiieur; the countless petticoats 
 and the perpetual change of chausswe (every gown 
 having its shoes and stockings to match) constitute 
 other items in the list of necessary articles; and when 
 one comes to reckon the endless toilettes of a year, 
 with their indispensable accessories, one sees easily 
 how impossible it is for any woman smartly-dressed to 
 be so economically. Women of the highest rank in 
 England used to consider ,300 or ^400 a year ample 
 for pin-money, and out of that helped others less rich 
 than themselves ; but that is ridiculously out of pro- 
 portion to the sums spent by any woman who wishes 
 to be well dressed. If married women can afford to 
 spend double or treble what their mothers spent, and 
 their husbands are able and willing to let them do so, 
 it is only injurious indirectly, perhaps, in a way I shall 
 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 135 
 
 indicate later ; but ' it is directly very hard on girls, 
 who, as a rule, have not large allowances, and must, 
 under modern conditions of fashion, emulate as much 
 as possible the example of the young married woman. 
 Girls are handicapped hardly enough, as it is, against 
 this new competitor, who in so many ways trenches on 
 their place in society ; and their only hope is to try 
 and imitate the real article as much as possible : so 
 they have to dress out of an allowance of less than 
 half that which she spends. In their smaller way, they 
 must have silk, satin, and brocade ; and in this change 
 the great extra expense occurs, girls having discarded 
 all the light and simple, for heavy and rich, materials. 
 Girls are now as much en evidence as married women. 
 Formerly they went out in a moderate way, and were 
 not to be seen at many of the places which they 
 now frequent. Very few girls went to race-meetings, 
 and lawn-tennis and afternoon parties (all requiring 
 their own toilettes) were not then the fashion. Three 
 or four balls a week during the season was a fair 
 allowance. Now two or three a night is a frequent 
 activity. The good old custom of wearing out their 
 London dresses in the country was then in vogue. 
 Now by the end of a season the fashion has all 
 changed : gowns are out of date : and no one can 
 look dowdy now-a-days and wear the dresses of the 
 last year. Thus, the 100 or ^150 which more than 
 satisfied girls thirty or forty years ago has increased to 
 250 and ^300, and even at that figure girls find it 
 impossible to make both ends meet. 
 
136 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 There is an obvious moral to be drawn from the 
 modern extravagance of girls. Fathers may be able 
 and indulgent enough to provide what seems a large 
 sum for their dress ; but no one else can ; and may not 
 the impossibility of doing so, and the dread of the same 
 spirit of extravagance throughout, act as a deterrent 
 against marriage ? Many men desire to marry ; but 
 before taking the final step they ponder over the costly 
 necessities which a wife entails. 
 
 It seems impossible to stem the current and stop the 
 extravagance which is the fashion. The old saying, 
 "It is good for trade," is true in a certain sense ; but 
 it does not encourage English manufacture, for the 
 cheap materials, as well as the richest and most extra- 
 vagant foreign, undersell our English productions. The 
 cutters-out and the tailors are mostly French and 
 German ; which is not for the benefit of the dress- 
 makers or of the drapers, although it is the custom to 
 say that they make large fortunes from the labour of the 
 foreigners. Very careful enquiry has satisfied me that 
 the profits of both are much less than they were thirty 
 or forty years ago. The strain of competition entails a 
 much larger turnover to produce profit. The whole 
 staff of every business establishment has to be kept up 
 on a much larger scale as women become more exacting 
 in their requirements about attention and facilities for 
 shopping. The system of credit given by dressmakers 
 must tend to diminish their profits further. Long ago 
 nearly all the customers of the best milliners in London 
 were women who paid their bills half-yearly, and ordered 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 137 
 
 only what they could pay for. One cannot shut one's 
 eyes to the fact that there are now many women, the 
 smallness of whose incomes makes it impossible for 
 them to pay for their clothes, who must be in debt 
 to their dressmakers. Then, milliners now dress ladies 
 who are repandu in society for nothing, or for a nominal 
 sum, for the sake of advertisement. 
 
 One of the most astounding instances of the tyranny 
 of the goddess Fashion is the staunch way in which a 
 style is adopted, if it becomes established, irrespec- 
 tively of its merits, artistic or other. Every woman, 
 whatever her size and shape, complexion or age, adopts 
 it. How vividly we recall the figures of middle-aged 
 women, largely-developed, fat, with gowns so tight that 
 the whole of their outlines were visible, when it was 
 the fashion to wear gowns tied back behind ! Can we 
 forget the discomfort we underwent in the days when 
 we wore bonnets higher than Papal crowns, when 
 sitting up in a close carriage was an impossibility ? or 
 the agony many underwent in the early days of high- 
 heeled shoes ? or when, perched on one's toes in an 
 attitude at once unbecoming and painful, the effect 
 of which was to destroy the shape of the foot, women 
 not only walked and danced in those instruments of 
 torture with a heroism worthy of a better cause, 
 simply because it was the fashion ? 
 
 There is another point from which we must look at the 
 increased extravagance and constant change of fashion, 
 and in some ways a very sad one namely, the effect 
 which the example of our rich w r omen is having on the 
 
138 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 women of the working classes. Every class imitates 
 the class above it, and tries to sweep away the 
 lines of demarcation ; and this is particularly the case 
 with women. The East-end factory girl, with her 
 " Gainsborough " hat and her "Bang," is only a coarse 
 imitation of what she thinks the lady of fashion in the 
 West-end must be ; and the servant-maid who spends 
 all her small wages in a slavish imitation of her mis- 
 tress, and emerges up the area steps on Sunday so 
 gorgeously apparelled that she is almost unrecognisable, 
 is another instance, and one that comes home to us 
 more nearly. The high-heeled shoes which have de- 
 formed the feet of most of our servant-girls, the tight 
 stays which are ruining their digestions, the tawdry 
 finery and the flashy material of which their clothes 
 are made, are all worn because their mistresses wear 
 things like them. Girls adopt them because they are 
 cheap and do not last long enough to be dowdy and 
 out of fashion ; and thus we see a reproduction in 
 another class of what we deplore in our own. No 
 servant will buy a good stuff to make a gown, for it 
 will not wear out. Although the stuff may remain 
 sufficiently modish to satisfy inexorable Fashion, taste 
 will change, and, as the gown cannot be cut about 
 to be the current style, the girls year by year buy 
 worthless materials, which are bad in themselves, 
 extravagant in wear; and on these, constantly changing 
 them to be in the fashion, they spend their earnings. 
 In their case, the cost of making-up is nearly double 
 the value of the material, for now no gown with any 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 139 
 
 pretension to be in the fashion can be made up for 
 less than IDS.; formerly it was never more than ^s. 6d. 
 It is the same with factory-girls and other girls. 
 What they can save out of their poor wages to buy 
 themselves clothes is misspent, in the same way, in 
 the large drapery shops and in the second-hand-clothes 
 shops. In the East-end of London, and in parts where 
 manufactures abound, and working people live, it would 
 be almost impossible to find any good and durable 
 material, as there is no demand for it ; and the poor, 
 like the girls, look only for what is cheap. It would 
 be ridiculous to say that cheap clothing is not a great 
 boon to the poor, and that the cheapening of boots and 
 shoes, even at the cost of diminishing their serviceable- 
 ness, is not one of the greatest blessings they enjoy ; 
 but there is another side even to that question. The 
 cheap boots of to-day neither wear nor mend as the 
 old-fashioned hand-made ones used to. There is no 
 unmixed good, no unmixed evil, in life ; but it is certain 
 that cheap clothing and cheap finery have tended to 
 destroy thrift among the working women of England, 
 and, by enabling them to dress out of their station, has 
 increased the temptations with which their life abounds. 
 The frequent change of fashion affects the working 
 classes materially as well as morally. The revival of a 
 particular fashion, such as a new trimming, or a new 
 material for bonnets, or particular flowers, gives work 
 and constant employment to a vast number of hands, 
 especially women ; and, for a time, work and wages are 
 plenty. Suddenly, without any reason or warning, the 
 
140 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 fiat goes forth that such things are no longer the mode, 
 and are to be discarded : with the result that many of 
 the workers, who have been at some pains to learn 
 how to make those particular articles, are thrown out 
 of employ ; and before they have time to learn the new 
 fancy either it is imported cheaply from abroad or it is 
 taken up and made in some other locality, leaving the 
 manufacturer with stocks which he can get rid of 
 only at a ruinous sacrifice. 
 
 In the matter of expenditure in, dress and ever-vary- 
 ing fashion wisdom seems to be powerless. Nothing 
 can be simpler and less extravagant than the example 
 set by our Royal Family. Whilst dressing and looking 
 more beautiful than any other English woman, the 
 Princess of Wales has never appeared extravagant ; 
 and we know that in certain instances she has thrown 
 her great influence into the scale against changes and 
 fashions which she considered bizarre and unbecoming. 
 Still, she has been able to control only to a certain 
 extent. The great dressing section of society is not to 
 be controlled by any influence, howsoever august, when 
 it can read of its toilettes in all the society papers of 
 the day. The recapitulation of the magnificence of the 
 Drawing-Room gown of Lady So-and-so, or of the 
 Church-Parade gown of Mrs. So-and-so, or of the 
 list of gowns made for a fashionable bride, is what the 
 soul of the average woman cannot resist. Take the 
 best, simplest, and nicest of women, and talk to her of 
 her clothes and chiffons, and she will listen with deep 
 and pleased interest ; and even a senior wrangler 
 
EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 141 
 
 considers her gowns a matter of no small importance. - 
 Such, however, are not the women who are creating 
 the evil of which we complain. It is the women who 
 live for enjoyment, whose personal adornment is the 
 absorbing subject of their lives, that are setting the 
 example of extravagance, and are injuring every class, 
 above and below, by ministering to the silliest of 
 woman's weaknesses. 
 
 The desire of every class to live up to the one above 
 it, to emulate its frailties, to copy its foibles, is sapping 
 our social strength. On all sides we hear of agricul- 
 tural distress, diminished rents, and decreasing incomes ; 
 yet we eat, and drink, and spend our money, merrily ; 
 and our women dress as magnificently as if there were 
 no signs of the stern crisis through which the country 
 has to pass, or of the poverty and distress at our doors. 
 There are thousands out of work, children and women 
 wanting food, and needs for help on every side, which 
 stand out in sharp contrast with the luxury and extrava- 
 gance we see around us, and should warn us that a 
 day of reckoning may not be far off for ourselves. If 
 women determined to discard the ornaments, the 
 garnitures, the trimmings, and the stuffs, of French 
 manufacture, and would return to the simplicity and 
 plainness of dress which satisfied their mothers and 
 grandmothers, they would give a stimulus to home 
 production ; and, if they insisted on a certain standard 
 of excellence in the material they purchased, they would 
 soon find their example followed by women of all 
 classes. I do not intend for a moment to imply that a 
 
142 EXTRAVAGANCE IN DRESS. 
 
 miracle would be wrought ; but the wise change would 
 undoubtedly give permanent employment to many 
 thousands who have suffered severely from the caprices 
 of fashion, and would remove the reproach, now resting 
 upon English women, that they are indifferent to 
 serious social obligations. 
 
143 
 
 THE CRINOLINE. 
 
 Recently there were ominous rumours that the 
 gradual widening of women's skirts at the bottom 
 meant something more than a momentary change in 
 the cut of garments. There seems little doubt that, had 
 not the women of England been on the alert, out of 
 the new umbrella skirt our old friend the crinoline 
 would have come. 
 
 Indeed, unless we are wary, we may yet find our- 
 selves arrayed in the " hoop " of 1855. We usually 
 obey the dictates of fashion, even at the sacrifice of 
 comfort; but nothing can exceed the animosity with 
 which the suggestion of crinoline has been received. 
 "John Strange Winter " and at least seven thousand 
 Amazons are ready to take the field against the 
 revivalists. Why crinoline should be more objec- 
 tionable than any other hideous fashion is a mystery ; 
 but, undoubtedly, some reason, all the more powerful 
 because of its obscurity, has been at work. The Anti- 
 Crinoline League is a stern reality. 
 
 The Leaguers can be considered well-advised in pro- 
 voking a discussion only if they are satisfied that an 
 irruption of the hated garment may occur. An appre- 
 
i 4 4 THE CRINOLINE. 
 
 hension which everyone is discussing is apt to realise 
 itself. No one knows better than every member of the 
 Anti-Crinoline League that were the umbrella skirt to 
 develop into one with a hoop at the bottom, which in 
 time would blossom into other hoops above it, vows 
 and protestations would be of no avail. It is even 
 possible that prominent members might find them- 
 selves obliged to sacrifice their principles and wear 
 the shameful garment. 
 
 The crinoline has remarkable recuperative power. 
 It has survived the assaults of three hundred years, 
 and, like influenza, is recurrent. The hoop has 
 always had a great attraction. Women have never 
 lost the chance of encasing themselves in it whenever 
 possible. It seems to have been originally an English 
 fashion (it was not adopted in France until the Empress 
 Eugenie introduced it in the fifties) dating from the 
 days of Queen Elizabeth, when it formed part of a great 
 whalebone structure, the upper portion shaped like a 
 cuirass, and attached to the hoops of the skirt, the 
 material of which came down to the ground, without 
 any folds, like a bell. It lived throughout her reign, 
 and through that of James I. ; but disappeared before 
 the Puritan feeling of the Commonwealth. It appeared 
 again in I/ 11 * as the hoop pure and simple, which 
 differed from the fardingale in being gathered at the 
 waist. Sir Roger de Coverley, in speaking of one of 
 his ancestresses, says, " My great-great-grandmother 
 has on the new-fashioned petticoat ; and except that the 
 modern is gathered at the waist, my grandmother looks 
 
THE CRINOLINE. 145 
 
 as if she stood in a great drum, whereas the ladies 
 now walk as if they were in a go-cart." The picture 
 of the hoop lying on the floor in the night scene of 
 Manage a la Mode is well-known. In 1744, the fashion 
 became so exaggerated that it was said that one woman 
 occupied the space of six men. The round form was 
 for a moment discarded, and an oblong one, raised at 
 each side so as to show the high-heeled shoes of its 
 wearer, came into fashion. The caricaturists of the day 
 likened the ladies unto donkeys carrying panniers. 
 The ladies utilised the great space by having large 
 pockets on each side, which carried an immense 
 quantity of small things. The hoops were made of 
 whalebone, and were very expensive. In 1780 cane, 
 as being able to " wear out the best whalebone," was 
 substituted. At the end of the century hoops were 
 worn in Court dress only. They were never so large 
 and so inconvenient as during the latter years of the 
 reign of George III. and the beginning of that of 
 George IV. They were abolished by Royal command. 
 The Royal decree did not kill the crinoline. 
 
 Between 1856 and 1 866 the fashion of it flourished, and 
 its inconveniences were immortalised by John Leech in 
 the pages of Punch. In the days of its earlier adoption, 
 crinoline never attained the dimensions of 1855, when 
 it often measured four and even five yards in circum- 
 ference, and, owing to the invention of the cheap and 
 pliant steel hoops (which made the fortune of their in- 
 ventor), it was worn by women of every class. To 
 our modern ideas the gigantic hoop of those days seems 
 
146 THE CRINOLINE. 
 
 fantastic ; yet no one thought it so at the time. It 
 took up a great deal of room, and made a gown ex- 
 pensive in material ; but we are not prepared to say 
 that it was more ridiculous or unbecoming than the 
 eelskin skirts and the tight-fitting jerseys of a few 
 years later, which, like crinolines, were worn by every 
 woman, irrespectively of her age, size, shape ; or that 
 it was more ungainly than the limp dowdyism of its 
 aesthetic successor. It had drawbacks which nothing 
 could obviate ; and it added to the risk of fire. From 
 time to time the papers chronicled " Deaths from 
 Burning through Wearing Crinoline ; " which misad- 
 ventures were taken ample advantage of by its op- 
 ponents. The crinoline skirt required tact and grace 
 in management. It had an awkward way of assuming 
 an independent existence, and occasionally gave the 
 impression that itself and the wearer were about to 
 part ; there were moments when it practised the 
 wildest vagaries, and showed an inclination to stick 
 out in the wrong places. Shall we ever see anything 
 which better depicts its untameable disposition than 
 Leech's inimitable sketches of Englishwomen walking 
 on a pier in a gale of wind, or his still more delightful 
 sketch of " Common Objects at the Sea-side " ? 
 
 When we recall the ridicule cast upon it, and re- 
 member how much more destructive is ridicule than 
 any other opposition, we realise what vitality fashion 
 has. If a mode is once adopted, it is the interest 
 of so many people to keep it going that we begin 
 to doubt whether "John Strange Winter" and her 
 
]RSITY 
 THE CRINOLINE. 
 
 followers are to be victorious any more than their 
 predecessors. It is hard that the leader of the Amazons 
 is able to reckon only on the lukewarm support of the 
 other section of the Dress-Reform Party. Lady 
 Harberton, whilst disliking crinoline, evidently con- 
 siders it only more objectionable than any other mode 
 of dressing save the divided skirt, and she will not 
 extend the hand of sympathy to the Anti-Crinoline 
 League. "John Strange Winter" and her followers 
 are, as has been said, beginning at the wrong end in 
 their opposition. The wiser plan of campaign would 
 be to boycott the crinoline quietly and say nothing 
 about the matter. Why not form a secret league 
 (similar to certain persevering and exasperating 
 charitable enterprises we suffer from) every member of 
 which would undertake to interest a dozen persons ? 
 In a very short time the Anti-Crinoline leader would 
 have nearly all the women of England on her side, 
 and would hurl confusion on the " capitalists and 
 speculators" who are hatching this monstrous plot. 
 Open opposition is of no use. It provokes hostility. If 
 there is any real danger of a revival of what some 
 consider an abominable fashion, anger will fan it into 
 zealotry. If crinoline is to be the fashion, we may 
 shriek till we are hoarse, but it will be adopted. 
 
 There are many points in its favour. It is not likely 
 that any expressions of opinion for or against it will 
 be delivered in high quarters. We all remember the 
 extremely sensible answer given by the Princess of 
 Wales when a similar attempt was made to boycott 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE CRINOLINE. 
 
 foreign goods in favour of English ones. That lesson 
 in political economy .is pretty sure to be repeated ; and, 
 even were the Princess strongly opposed, as we are 
 assured she is, to the revival of the crinoline, it is 
 more than possible that her disapproval would not pre- 
 vent its adoption if the tide were running strongly in 
 its favour. It will be interesting to see how far women 
 will be able to resist the fashion. Experience does not 
 encourage one to expect much. The attempt to stimulate 
 English manufactures by refusing to wear foreign silks 
 and stuffs was not so successful as to lead one to hope 
 for the adoption of any similar policy on this particular 
 occasion. The real fact is that a fashion is abroad 
 before the majority of the community hear anything 
 about it. The autocrats of fashion decree it ; and 
 manufacturers make their stocks, which are taken by 
 the shopkeepers and sold with pertinacity. People 
 drift into the fashion before they know what they are 
 about. 
 
 We must not forget that, although there are many 
 women who dislike crinoline, there are many who 
 will welcome its return. There are the very thin 
 women, without aesthetic tendencies, who, consciously, 
 have looked miserably ugly in the clinging garments 
 of recent years. There are the women, with sloping 
 shoulders', who have a point of beauty hidden under the 
 wide sleeves which we should discard with the adoption 
 of crinoline. There are women, with short legs, to 
 whom the width of skirt, and the length which will 
 come with it, will be welcome ; and there are stout 
 
THE CRINOLINE. 149 
 
 women, who will hope to lose the sense of their pro- 
 portions in the debateable space which may be crinoline 
 or something more substantial. The opponents of the 
 crinoline on artistic grounds forget that during the last 
 forty years the stature of women in England has 
 increased. Nothing is more remarkable than the num- 
 bers of well-grown girls one sees everywhere ; on whom 
 crinoline, properly controlled, will be becoming, adding 
 dignity and grace to their appearance. An English- 
 woman " divinely tall " wears anything well ; and 
 nothing is more pleasing on a tall slight woman than 
 a somewhat extended and voluminous skirt. Many of 
 us can recall some of the well-known beauties of the 
 crinoline days. Can we honestly say that they did not 
 look quite as beautiful and graceful as their successors 
 of an artistic time, or that their less-favoured* sisters 
 looked worse by reason of their wearing the hoop ? 
 No pretty woman ever looked ugly because she wore a 
 gown of unbecoming fashion, and no ugly woman ever 
 looked uglier for the same reason. 
 
 That there is much to be said for crinoline on 
 hygienic grounds must be obvious. Now we shall have 
 no trailing skirts which act as a mud-brush on the 
 pavement and a dirt-trap in the house. What can be 
 dirtier, uglier, more unhealthy, than the half-train skirt 
 of a recent year, which had none of the virtues of a short 
 tidy petticoat, and none of the grace of a long train ? 
 We can now have clean boots and stockings, instead 
 of those which needed cleaning every time we came 
 in from walking in dirty and bedraggled petticoats. 
 
150 THE CRINOLINE. 
 
 To women who are obliged to walk about much, 
 crinoline would be a boon. Nothing is so fatiguing 
 as a skirt which is in one's way constantly. Facing 
 a wind in a clinging skirt is like walking as if one 
 " b hobbled." Crinoline will give women a freer use 
 of their lower limbs. 
 
 The reappearance of crinoline must produce a change 
 in some of the outdoor games of women. Lawn-tennis 
 will be hardly possible in a crinoline. The quick, 
 active movement, the constant change of attitude, the 
 jumping to reach a ball, would be impossible with an 
 inflated skirt. Croquet will possibly reign once more : 
 a game of slower and more graceful movements, in the 
 pursuit of which tender relations may be carried on. 
 This thought will reconcile to the adoption of crinoline 
 many women who are debarred by physical obstacles 
 from joining in the outdoor games of their younger 
 neighbours. 
 
 There are obvious drawbacks to the adoption of 
 crinoline ; but they are not insuperable if we resolve to 
 limit its size. One is that if it is allowed to attain the 
 size it reached between 1855 and 1866 we shall find 
 ourselves obliged to make some changes in our social 
 arrangements and in many of the appliances of life. 
 We cannot increase the size of our doors or of our 
 rooms at will. Therefore we must limit our hospitality. 
 Houses which sufficed for an artistic style of dress will 
 not be spacious enough for the requirements of crino- 
 line. As the tendency is nowadays for every fashion 
 to become exaggerated, we shall be obliged to subdue 
 
THE CRINOLINE. 151 
 
 our requirements so as to give full scope to those of our 
 maids. If our crinoline measures three or four yards 
 round, theirs will be double the circumference. It 
 must, seriously, make some difference in the furniture 
 and arrangement of rooms ; for with large skirts, be- 
 yond the control of the wearer, it will be inconvenient, 
 almost impossible, to move about in the drawing-room, 
 with its endless ornaments, spindle-legged chairs, and 
 sofas. We shall require more solid and heavy furniture, 
 able to withstand perpetual assaults. One unmixed 
 mercy will be the complete disappearance of those 
 terrible decorations, Japanese fans, umbrellas, etc., with 
 which we are all familiar. They would literally be 
 swept away in the tempest created by the entrance of a 
 few voluminous crinolines. One can hardly picture 
 what a crowded Drawing Room would be at Bucking- 
 ham Palace under a new reign of crinoline. It was 
 somewhat of an ordeal when crinoline was in fashion 
 and fewer people attended. Who can forget the anxiety 
 caused when the wearer entered the surging crowd ? 
 Crinolines went up on one side, or on the other, 
 according to pressure ; or, what was more terrible 
 than all, some slight disarrangement behind forced them 
 out in front ; and away from all help, and unable to 
 extricate oneself from the difficulty, one had to emerge 
 with what composure one could command from the 
 crowd, in a vain endeavour to soothe the movements of 
 an apparatus which had emancipated itself from all 
 control. 
 
 There is one objection to the proposed introduction 
 
152 THE CRINOLINE. 
 
 of crinoline to which no one seems to have attached 
 much importance, an objection which, viewed from an 
 Englishwoman's and patriotic point of view, has some 
 considerations worthy of attention. If crinoline is again 
 imposed on us, it will be the result of foreign dictation 
 and oppression. We are told that " certain firms " on 
 the Continent are at the bottom of the conspiracy. 
 This is surely unbearable, and if the Anti-Crinoline 
 League had appealed to the sentimental and national 
 side of womankind we should have thrown all our 
 sympathies and influence into the scale. We know 
 what the German and the Jew have done for our work- 
 ing people. We are vehemently in favour of the ex- 
 pulsion of foreigners. " England for the English " is 
 the watchword of every Briton. In so important a 
 matter, one affecting so keenly the whole populace of 
 England, this objection should not have been overlooked. 
 Adopting fashions which have their origin in France, if 
 they are desirable, has always been the gracious and 
 condescending role of the fair sex here ; but to have 
 a fashion ugly, indecent, unbecoming, crammed down 
 one's throat, or tied round one's waist, at the bidding 
 of a Foreign Power which we have always held at defi- 
 ance is surely out of reason. 
 
 There is one section of the community, not an un- 
 important one, which has hitherto kept silence in the 
 controversy ; and we are waiting with anxiety to hear 
 its opinion, which must have weight. The fathers and 
 brothers of England, with the exception of one or two 
 medical men who have opposed the introduction of 
 
THE CRINOLINE. 153 
 
 crinoline on account of the supposed danger of fire, are 
 dumb. The fears it has excited among women do not 
 appear to have appealed to them. A few men may have 
 privately voted it " beastly;" but this opinion, after 
 all, carries no great weight. It may be that they are 
 curiously waiting to know what will come of the move- 
 ment of resistance to that unseen power which rules 
 half the world of society. May one suggest, also, that 
 the political section of mankind is watching the struggle 
 with a certain interest? The movement really may 
 have some bearing on politics. It would surely be a little 
 unjust at a moment when women are throwing them- 
 selves with fresh ardour into political life, and are not 
 only pulling the strings behind the scenes, but preparing 
 to enter the great Chamber of Representatives itself, to 
 handicap them in their approach to the post of duty. 
 If the hoop is adopted it will be difficult indeed to 
 find room for the lady politician on the floor of the 
 House, or even on the Terrace. Can it be that some 
 Machiavellian plot is on foot to sweep away those 
 privileges which have added a charm and new interest 
 to the life of the ardent as well as the frivolous political 
 woman ? It may be, it is true, that, should the crino- 
 line vanquish us, a modus vivendi will be discovered. 
 Perhaps a turnstile might be erected, before passing 
 which the aggressive hoop should be discarded ; or 
 the number of hooped ladies to be admitted at one 
 time might be limited. With those restrictions, 
 the House might not seriously unite to boycott 
 crinoline except on the ground that the hoop petti- 
 
i 5 4 THE CRINOLINE. 
 
 coat would give increased facilities for the conceal- 
 ment of dynamite. 
 
 Seriously, there is no doubt that masculine opinion 
 upon women's power of combination and of forming an 
 independent judgment in questions more important 
 than that of dress will be largely influenced by the 
 manner in which this question is settled. The weak- 
 ness of the position of those women who oppose change 
 lies in the fact that their objections rest, not on the use 
 of the crinoline, but on its abuse. The fear which its re- 
 appearance has excited is due to the fact that in dress, 
 as in all other matters, women are not to be trusted to 
 avoid excess. They have no taste for the Aristotelian 
 mean. If we could feel sure that crinoline would never 
 expand to gigantic circumference we could all be in- 
 different about it. 
 
 If the threatened invasion by crinoline is successful, 
 we shall, before the final moment, hear the voice of man 
 raised in emphatic protest. The only new changes in 
 women's dress that can affect men seriously are the 
 crinoline and the divided skirt : the first because its 
 adoption would entail a great deal of personal in- 
 convenience and discomfort to the other sex. As for 
 the divided skirt : It is a more serious infringement of 
 masculine rights than even the wildest and most 
 ambitious of the emancipated sisterhood can hope to 
 carry out. Still, crinoline in its heyday of glory and 
 insolence did not change the position or the feeling of 
 men towards women. Lovers wooed and won their 
 mistresses in hoops ; never for one moment did the 
 
THE CRINOLINE. 155 
 
 old story cease to be told, even although it had to 
 be whispered at a distance of many feet. Women 
 were as fascinating in their steel-girt days as they are 
 now ; society held on its way merrily ; balls, dinners, 
 teas, croquet, and all the amusements of life, went on. 
 Human nature does not change as the garments it is 
 clothed in do ; and in the eyes of men the women they 
 adore will always be the same, with hoops or without 
 them. 
 
 Let us hope, however, that the agitation caused 
 by the mere suggestion of crinoline has destroyed its 
 chances of life, and that in the unobjectionable material 
 called " crin " the happy compromise may be found. 
 If so, we shall be at rest, and the Anti-Crinoline League 
 and the Dress Reform Association may lie down in 
 peace together; and, no doubt the ominous rumours of 
 revolt at Westminster, and of possible attempts to crush 
 the political aspirations of women by a side attack, will 
 subside, or be confined only to the members of a re- 
 sourceless Ministry, jealous of the bloodless victory 
 won by the women of England over their foreign op- 
 pressors. 
 
156 
 
 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 Until recently, the condition of the fallen women 
 in our large towns was considered hopeless. Such 
 women, deserted by the men who had ruined them, 
 abandoned by friends and relations, seemed to have no 
 prospect but that of the workhouse. Formerly it 
 was not the fashion to hold out to them the hand of 
 fellowship. When a woman wandered from the path 
 of virtue, the door of society was relentlessly barred 
 against her, and over the portals of the new home 
 were inscribed the words, "All hope abandon, ye who 
 enter here." No matter how great the sacrifice she 
 was prepared to make, no one would engage a fallen 
 girl to fill even the lowliest place in domestic service ; 
 and among the trades in which women were employed 
 a girl known to have taken a false step stood little 
 chance of work. Every outlet in this country was 
 closed ; and, as all the colonial-emigration agencies were 
 strict in inquiries as to the respectability and the past 
 life of those intending to emigrate, it was impossible, 
 by sending a woman to a new country where her fault 
 was unknown, howsoever convinced those interested in 
 her might be of her repentance, to help her. Unless, 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 157 
 
 therefore, a woman's relations were willing to receive 
 her back, and assist her in supporting herself and her 
 child, the workhouse was her only refuge ; and, to 
 those who knew anything of the condition of the work- 
 house, that was almost as bad as leaving her to 
 struggle for the means of subsistence elsewhere. In 
 the workhouse, until her child was old enough to be 
 weaned, she was allowed to keep it with her, or, 
 rather, to live in the nursery with it. The work- 
 house nursery was a long, low, ill -ventilated room 
 at the top of the house, where the children and 
 mothers passed the day, had their meals, and slept at 
 night. It was full of crying, suffering children, some 
 with mothers to attend to them, and some without, the 
 latter given to the care of inmates with children of 
 their own. Many of the children were diseased 
 creatures ; and in contact with them the more healthy 
 children grew up pale, thin, and miserable. The work- 
 house nursery combined all the worst influences that 
 could be brought to bear on a fallen woman. She 
 passed her life without discipline and moral training ; 
 she lived in an atmosphere as bad physically as 
 morally ; and her child was a source of weariness to 
 her, as its little ailments required her constant atten- 
 tion. The tone of the place tended to degrade completely 
 a character already low. Even the natural love for 
 her child was exposed to tests that tried it sorely. 
 She left the nursery for the permanent and more 
 active life of the workhouse, fully prepared to imbibe 
 the poison which it was too likely to impart. 
 
158 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 There are few sights more heart-rending than that 
 which the nursery of a large metropolitan workhouse 
 once presented. Fifty or sixty children, from a month 
 to three years old, the majority of whom were wan, 
 ill, unhealthy, with the careworn expression of old 
 people, or the wistful look of suffering, were a spectacle 
 not easily effaced from memory. There was nothing to 
 relieve the cheerlessness of the room. In one corner 
 were two or three little cots with suffering babies r 
 some of them dying, with no loving mother or nurse 
 to do what tenderness could to ease their pain ; and, 
 saddest, perhaps, of all, the long row of little low 
 chairs, into which were strapped five or six children, 
 old enough to sit up, but not strong enough to walk, 
 who, with eager eyes, looked for some one to lift 
 them out and give them the much-longed-for walk 
 about the room. From this preparatory stage of the 
 workhouse life, where no attempt was ever made to 
 foster the maternal love, the woman, after a year or 
 two, was sent on into the body of the workhouse, to 
 be put to such tasks as she was found fitted for, 
 either in the kitchen or in the laundry. Life in the 
 ordinary wards of a workhouse was as fruitful of evil 
 as life in the nursery. 
 
 Many able-bodied inmates of the workhouse were 
 fallen women who, having no friends willing to assist 
 them, and no other means of subsistence, were con- 
 strained to rely upon the parish during the remainder 
 of their lives. The majority, but for their one sin, 
 were harmless enough, and contented to accept the 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 159 
 
 only lot which was open to them. Among them, how- 
 ever, from time to time, came many of the more 
 hardened and abandoned of the class to which they 
 belonged women, from the very humblest ranks, who, 
 from want, or disease, or drink, were too low for 
 almost any hospital treatment, and were driven for a 
 season to seek the shelter of the workhouse. Their 
 stay was not permanent, nor long ; but it was of quite 
 sufficient duration to work an amount of evil that is 
 difficult to calculate. Howsoever strict the discipline 
 or perfect the management of any workhouse, it 
 would be impossible to separate in its daily life the 
 more degraded from the less degraded of its inmates. 
 There is no machinery for doing so ; and in a large 
 institution, with its hundreds or thousands of inmates, 
 such an arrangement would be out of the question. 
 Therefore, in their daily life, in the sleeping and in 
 the living rooms, the worst w r omen were brought into 
 hourly contact with some of the girls from the 
 nursery, and they, although deteriorated by their 
 stay there, would be pure in comparison with the 
 women. It would not necessarily follow 7 that all the 
 younger women had accepted their fate as inevitable, 
 or were lost to all feelings of shame and of repent- 
 ance ; yet all of them were compelled to pass their days 
 in the companionship of women who had long since 
 cast to the winds the rags of modesty and shame, but 
 still possessed a good-hearted roughness and friend- 
 liness. In recounting the downward history of her 
 career, the more abandoned and hardened woman would 
 
160 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 dwell on the fun, the excitement, the gaiety, of its 
 different stages, always keeping silent (even if for the 
 moment she had not forgotten) about its squalor, 
 misery, and degradation. Foul language and oaths 
 were used, and the darkest page of the woman's 
 life was discussed with such freedom and absence of 
 shame that the less corrupted women would become 
 habituated to aspects of vice from which they would 
 have shrunk a few weeks before. The poison would 
 sink into their souls, and in mind and body they would 
 become nearly as degraded as their more sinful sisters. 
 If it were possible in the management of a workhouse 
 to separate the classes so as to prevent the more 
 abandoned women from coming into contact with the 
 others, the harm done by a short term of residence in 
 the house would be comparatively insignificant ; but 
 when both classes are together in daily and hourly 
 communication the infection of evil spreads just as 
 quickly as scarlet fever or measles in a school, and 
 goes through the whole community, leaving terrible 
 and lasting effects. 
 
 The knowledge that the workhouse was almost a 
 certain stepping-stone to the lower life of the streets 
 made those interested in rescue work desirous of saving 
 young women and girls from entering it at all, or, if 
 that was unavoidable, of shortening their sojourn as 
 much as possible; but for a long time the practical 
 troubles were great. From the difficulty of getting 
 money, or even sympathy, the few women and men 
 who took the matter up were obliged to work in a 
 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 161 
 
 circumscribed and tentative way. The subject could not 
 be discussed openly ; and for a long time the prospect of 
 helping the weak creatures who needed help and sym- 
 pathy so sorely was a dream indulged in only by a few 
 enthusiastic women, who, struggling against opposition 
 and discouragement, clung to the hope that public opinion 
 might change, and the charity of some portion of the 
 community be directed towards them and their projects. 
 Now the long-desired change has come, and for the 
 moment a great deal of the sympathy and the charity of 
 the wealthy in England is being lavished on homes and 
 penitentiaries for rescuing the fallen. That numbers of 
 women have been restored to a respectable life, and 
 have regained a position in the world that twenty years 
 ago seemed impossible, is a fact ; and that the work 
 as a whole has been done well is also true. In this 
 country, however, when the sympathy or the interest 
 of the community in any particular direction or object 
 is awakened, it generally overreaches itself and shakes 
 off all restraint, and, remembering only its short- 
 comings in the past, endeavours, by misdirected zeal, 
 to expiate its apathy. We are now passing through 
 this stage of public expiation, and are likely, from 
 excess of zeal, to carry on a campaign of rescue in a 
 manner calculated to do more evil than good. It would 
 be well, therefore, to consider the classes that can be 
 helped, and what are the means at our disposal. 
 
 The moral standpoints from which the upper and 
 the lower classes in this country view the matter are 
 entirely different. The penalty paid by an unmarried 
 
 M 
 
162 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 woman of the upper classes who ceases to be virtuous 
 is ostracism. Every door is closed to her ; her name 
 ceases to be mentioned ; and those nearest to her are 
 generally her sternest judges. With the poor nothing 
 is more curious than the expression of incredulous 
 surprise with which they receive the statement that 
 such pains and penalties overtake their richer and 
 better-born sister when she falls. To the majority the 
 chief reproach is that the sin has brought its punish- 
 ment, and that for the remainder of their life they will 
 have to support that burden. It would be unjust, 
 therefore, to judge the woman of the lower classes by 
 the standard that applies to the upper. If we compare 
 the life of a well brought-up and well cared-for daugh- 
 ter of the better class, shielded from temptation and 
 from knowledge of the vice of the world around her, 
 with the life of most of the girls of the poorer classes, 
 whether in the country or in large towns, reared in 
 familiarity with men, living and sleeping in the same 
 room with father, mother, brothers, and sisters, we 
 shall realise that it is impossible to apply one test to 
 both. The poorer girl is not necessarily impure 
 because she has never enjoyed the safeguard of the 
 rich. Perhaps in some ways her simpler knowledge 
 is as a shield. When she is obliged to leave home 
 for service we have no right to blame her because, if 
 chaste personally, she is not pure-minded. Pure- 
 minded, in the sense in which the term is ordinarily 
 used, she cannot be. As all the relations of life to her 
 are an open book, she is not influenced by the sense of 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 163 
 
 mystery and the feeling of curiosity which exist in the 
 minds of many innocent women. Thus, whilst she may 
 be deprived of the freshness and the delicacy of an 
 ignorant woman, she is not in the same danger of 
 falling. 
 
 Still, familiarity with those things does not keep 
 women pure. The knowledge they have protects them 
 in one direction ; but it weakens them in another. A 
 woman may be perfectly virtuous, yet not pure-minded ; 
 and there the difference begins between the way in 
 which women of the upper and those of the lower 
 classes view the subject. A poor woman is perfectly 
 well conducted, faithful to her husband, and excellent 
 in all the essential duties of a wife and mother ; but 
 she is not a modest-minded woman in the same sense 
 as many a woman in a better class is. Her education 
 and her struggling life have prevented her from being 
 so. She brings up her daughters like herself. They 
 are probably warned not to get into trouble and ad- 
 vised to be steady, not because to fall is wrong, and a 
 sin against herself and society, but because there are 
 practical inconveniences which may follow such an act. 
 If one of her friends or acquaintances is less wise than 
 herself, she is more pitied than blamed ; and the 
 tendency is to grieve that she was so foolish as to fall, 
 and has had to seek the shelter of the workhouse. 
 When she comes out she is an object of intense 
 sympathy to the neighbours, and all her experiences 
 are listened to and discussed with great interest. It 
 will thus be seen that in a class where there is no 
 
 M 2 
 
1 64 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 strong public feeling in favour of the purity of women, 
 and where parental authority is not enforced, girls 
 being allowed perfect freedom of association with any 
 men they know, and parents allowing things to take 
 their course, it is very difficult in rescuing, or in at- 
 tempting to rescue, to know where to begin. It is 
 not often possible to appeal to the knowledge of the 
 sorrow which the fall has caused their parents ; and it 
 is hard to convince them they have been anything but 
 unfortunate, or that a portion at least of the wrong and 
 sin is theirs. To tell them that they have lost what 
 ought to be to a woman her most precious possession 
 is to appeal to instincts unknown to them. It is, as 1 
 .shall presently show, useless to dwell on the religious 
 or on the sentimental aspect of the subject. One is 
 baffled and disappointed at every turn, and it is only 
 after vain attempts to rouse their better and higher 
 feelings that one endeavours to see what effect practical 
 or material influences have on them. On the whole, 
 the latter way of dealing with the difficulty seems the 
 best. To come to a woman in this desolate and forlorn 
 position with any of the common-places of religion 
 irritates her. She is conscious of the sin and of her 
 weakness. Her future is dark and hopeless, and she is 
 searching for some way of earning a living. The only 
 means of helping her is to enable her to realise that, 
 far as she has fallen, earthly help and pardon are forth- 
 coming. 
 
 After she has once been convinced that she has 
 found a friend, there is no reason to fear that she will 
 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 165 
 
 not respond in the amplest way to all that can be 
 done for her. The majority of such women are as a 
 rule good-natured and ignorant. They have never 
 known any real moral training, and they are grateful 
 and responsive ; but there is always the weak spot 
 somewhere in their character, and it is not difficult 
 after a time to be able to put one's finger on it. Many 
 of them are not born robust. They are neither 
 physically nor morally strong, and, having gone early 
 to service, have been overworked. How far strength 
 of character and will depend on physical vigour is a 
 problem that must always disturb people engaged in 
 rescue work. Occasionally one comes across a woman 
 with a strong and passionate nature who has recog- 
 nised her position, having committed her sin with her 
 eyes open, and is fully conscious of, and willing to 
 accept, the consequences, in the vain hope of retaining 
 the affection which (she fears) is likely to become a thing 
 of the past. A woman with such a nature is certain to 
 return to the utmost all that is done for her, and the 
 deep love for her child is as an anchor. She is 
 prepared for any trials, and meets them with heroism 
 and self-sacrifice. Such women, however, are ex- 
 ceptions. The majority of the fallen are misled by 
 drink and love of dress for in such cases affection 
 plays a very subordinate part. They feel the dis- 
 grace and desertion much less than the hopelessness 
 of their position and the uncertainty of their future. 
 A woman of that class is fond of her child in a way, 
 and was fond of its father ; yet in many cases when 
 
1 66 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 he willingly comes forward and offers to marry her, 
 although she have the strongest inducement to marry 
 in the fact that she and her child will then have a legal 
 claim on him for support, she will refuse, from a feeling 
 of resentment for having suffered all the shame ; she 
 would rather bear the burden of supporting the child 
 than admit the right of any paternal interference. To 
 allow a woman of such a nature to remain for long 
 in a workhouse, exposed to the lowering influences 
 there, is to leave her in a moral lazaretto from which 
 she must inevitably come out more degraded, or at least 
 with a greater knowledge of evil than when she en- 
 tered. 
 
 There are several considerations which are most im- 
 portant in rescue work, and on these being adhered to 
 or neglected the result of the work must mainly depend. 
 The tirst is the necessity of keeping the different classes 
 of women apart that is, of having the work so divided 
 that the more degraded women are never brought into 
 contact with those who are less so. Many people have 
 tried to carry on rescue work without keeping those two 
 elements asunder, and it has failed for the reason which 
 made the workhouse fail before it. Having demon- 
 strated the disadvantages of the system, one need say 
 no more about it. The second consideration is as to the 
 size of the home or other institution where the work is 
 carried out. To be successful, it is necessary to have the 
 women under supervision and control. Boarding and 
 lodging them out with respectable women has been 
 tried, and has proved a failure. Whether it is ever 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 167 
 
 desirable to bring many of those women together into one 
 large institution is doubtful. On economical grounds it is 
 the cheapest plan, and in many very large penitentiaries, 
 where the discipline is that of a reformatory or a prison, 
 the difficulties are much diminished ; and with the very 
 lowest class of women, reduced by drink, disease, and 
 poverty, to a point where only the exercise of the strictest 
 discipline can reform them, it is salutary. Many years' 
 experience has not tended to increase my belief that any 
 great or lasting good can be done with the majority of 
 such women. 
 
 At times they are so miserable, so wretched, so 
 absolutely lost, that they grasp at any rope thrown out 
 to save them. The rest and constant occupation of 
 such homes for a time tame their natures; but when 
 the restraints are removed, and they go forth into the 
 world once more, the craving for drink and excitement 
 gets the mastery, and they are again overpowered. 
 When a woman of this kind becomes, as she usually 
 does in time, a confirmed drunkard, her case is hopeless. 
 Women can be rescued from infamy, thieving, almost 
 any crime, until they have taken to drink. Under re- 
 straint such a woman is quiet and well-behaved ; when 
 the restraint is withdrawn she is terrible. 
 
 Attaching much importance to personal influence, and 
 to individual knowledge of character, I have no hesita- 
 tion in saying that for the better class of fallen women 
 there can be no question as to the superiority of the 
 smaller over the larger house. In a very large institu- 
 tion, with its hundreds of inmates, it is almost impos- 
 
168 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 sible to acquire that personal knowledge of each 
 woman's history and character which is necessary 
 before her confidence can be gained and she can be 
 brought to realise that she has found a friend in whose 
 eyes she has an identity of her own. To feel that she 
 is one of the herd is no satisfaction ; but to be convin- 
 ced that she is a woman who has suffered and sinned, 
 and is sorrowful, anxious to repent, and willing to be 
 put on the road to the straight path from which she 
 has wandered, conveys a comfort to her, and introduces 
 a new element into her life. Up till then she has been 
 buffeted about, with no one to help her, no one who, 
 whilst condemning her, was moved to pity. Having 
 found sympathy and hope, she is a different creature, 
 with the prospect of a better future. How often has a 
 woman felt, after making the confession of all her sins 
 and shortcomings, and opening up the shameful page 
 of her history, that, stern and sad as were the words of 
 admonition and advice that have been given to her, they 
 were nevertheless the first ray of light shed on her 
 faltering steps ! To condone the fault is a mistake. 
 In most cases, if a woman feels sure she has found a 
 sister who will hold out her hand to her and lead her 
 back to a better life, there is never any resentment 
 against the plainest speaking. 
 
 In order to have that personal knowledge of each 
 woman which will enable you to win her confidence and 
 persuade her to tell you her story of temptation and 
 sin, and so to regard you as a friend, the number in a 
 home must be limited. No two women are alike. You 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 169 
 
 have to make allowances for dispositions, tempers, and 
 characters, as dissimilar as possible, to adapt yourself 
 to each, and to prevent the routine of the work 
 from diminishing the strong personal interest you wish 
 to impress on each woman as the motive which urges 
 you to befriend her. The darker side of her history 
 need never be alluded to, or but slightly only as much 
 as is necessary to attain the knowledge which may 
 be wanted in order to realise how best to help her. 
 When that is done, the new life that is before her is 
 the subject on which to dwell. That gives her the hope 
 of which she has been deprived. Amid no circum- 
 stances, therefore, should the number of inmates in a 
 house exceed twenty-six or thirty, or the period of 
 their stay be less than two months. With such num- 
 bers and during that time it is possible to obtain an in- 
 sight into each woman's disposition, to form an idea as 
 to the probabilities of saving her, and to enable those 
 put over her to know her capabilities for a particular 
 occupation. One of the reasons why so much rescue 
 work in this direction fails is that when a woman is 
 anxious to begin her life outside again, and a situation 
 is found for her, she is often sent to it without any 
 knowledge as to whether the place is suitable for 
 her, or whether there is any reasonable chance of her 
 succeeding in it. It should never be forgotten that the 
 great difficulty with which women of this class usually 
 have to contend is their want of systematic training 
 for domestic service. Most of them come out of poor, 
 ill-regulated homes ; they have never been taught habits 
 
170 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 of method or of self-restraint ; and their ignorance of 
 the ordinary duties of a servant, as well as their love 
 of independence and their resentment at any attempt 
 to control them, has often been the cause of all the 
 troubles of their life. Therefore, in the Home training 
 it is important, if possible, to make their stay long 
 enough to induce habits of obedience and order. As 
 much benefit is derived from never losing sight of this 
 fact as from any other part of the work. Owing to the 
 restraints and the drudgery of domestic service in these 
 days, the difficulty of getting servants, among the 
 middle classes especially, is enormous ; and, partly for 
 that reason, partly because amid such circumstances a 
 woman commands lower wages, it is always easy to 
 get a situation for those women. In fact, the demand 
 for servants at some Homes exceeds the supply. 
 The places, however, are very hard. The duties are 
 so varied that even first-rate servants could scarcely 
 hope to fulfil them. How can a woman obviously 
 inferior, and against whom a bad or spiteful mistress 
 has an easy opportunity of reproach, be expected to 
 succeed? Many a woman fails in her early places for 
 one or other of those reasons, becomes disheartened, 
 and leaves ; and the losing of a place is not to her a 
 light matter, as it would be to a servant with better 
 antecedents. Every place after the first is on a descend- 
 ing scale as to comfort and the chances of respecta- 
 bility ; and all because one of the most elementary parts 
 of the business has been overlooked. Occupation in 
 the Home, then, should be regular, and as much as 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 171 
 
 possible chosen with reference to the position a woman 
 is to have on leaving it. From a moral as well as 
 from a physical standpoint, work is necessary. In 
 Homes where very large laundry businesses are 
 carried on the physical improvement of the inmates is 
 remarkable ; and in the returns of the workhouse 
 wards and of the lying-in hospitals it will be found 
 that the mortality is much less among women who 
 have come from institutions where work is regular, but 
 rather hard than otherwise, than among those who 
 come from places where a sedentary life is the rule. 
 
 In respect to the last point in this work, it is difficult 
 to write plainly without running some risk of being 
 misunderstood. It has for so long been the custom to 
 regard the matter in a religious light, any one who 
 attempts to approach it from another standpoint is 
 looked on with mistrust. Still, years of work and 
 experience have convinced me that those who 
 begin with religion begin at the wrong end. It is 
 important to get at the truth, to convince a woman 
 that it is a woman like herself, who more or less under- 
 stands her, knows her nature, her life, its temptations, 
 and drawbacks, and, although more happily circum- 
 stanced than she, can enter into all that her weaker 
 nature has suffered, who is appealing to her who, but 
 for the greater good fortune of her lot, might have 
 been no better than she. It is really only by applying 
 the true test of human sympathy, divested of any 
 religious attributes, that a woman's confidence is won. 
 You do not appeal to her from a higher moral posi- 
 
172 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 tion. You appeal to her as one woman to another 
 a woman, on whom Providence has showered its 
 happiest gifts, out of whose thankful heart a stream 
 of pity and love is flowing towards an unhappy 
 sister. When a woman understands that there is 
 no desire or intention to approach her from the stand- 
 point of a superior virtue, she unbends, gives you 
 her affection, and does not hesitate to confess her 
 shortcomings. When that result has been attained, 
 and the victory over her won, it is easy, as it is above 
 all things important, to convince her that there is but one 
 strength and guidance that can keep her in the straight 
 path, which she will find strewn with difficulties. The 
 downward career of such a woman is one of falsehood. 
 Her nature has become so steeped in deception that 
 it is natural to her to feign a repentance and a religious 
 frame of mind, which impose on those who look 
 anxiously for such easily-wrought signs of a contrition 
 that lasts only while it serves a purpose. It is curious 
 to observe the manner in which some women adapt 
 themselves to the tone of mind of those who are striving 
 to save them. They will be religious with one who 
 applies a religious test to their repentance : half-an- 
 hour later, they will be prepared to go in the opposite 
 direction with those whose views are less strict. There- 
 fore, whilst speaking with respect and admiration for 
 those who hold opinions on this point opposed to my 
 own, and whilst recognising the magnitude and value 
 of the work they have done, I must say that every 
 day's experience convinces me that, unless you are 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 173 
 
 prepared to stretch out a hand to supply the material 
 wants of a woman, your efforts will be wasted. When 
 all that can be done to help her materially is accom- 
 plished, and her face is set to the point whence her 
 better life is to begin, the story of a Divine life, full 
 of sorrows and temptations, can be dwelt on with 
 hope. There is no one who needs the consolation and 
 strength that religious belief gives more than such a 
 woman ; but it should not be offered until she is attuned 
 to it. When she is so inclined, there is no safeguard 
 like the thought of that stainless Life. 
 
 It is not, however, with her departure to service that 
 the work of rescue ceases. Then, perhaps, the most 
 troublesome part of it begins. It is worse than useless 
 to launch anyone straight from the quiet and discipline 
 of a Home into a place where everything is carried on 
 with the irregularity of an English middle-class estab- 
 lishment, where the work is heavy and continuous, and 
 there is nothing at hand to diminish the perpetual 
 strain on the servant's mind and body : where she has 
 to be nurse, cook, house-maid, and parlour-maid, 
 everything in turns; to do everything, forget nothing, 
 and be the first to rise and the last to go to bed, 
 without having had a moment's rest or a regular meal 
 during the day. Then come the severest tests to a 
 woman's sincerity ; and it is one of the most cheering 
 parts of the work that, while such is the life on which 
 the majority of women embark on leaving the Home, 
 the failures are so few. It is at this time that the 
 sympathy, the personal friendship, and the influence, 
 
174 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 of a woman a lady if possible are of inestimable 
 value. The friendship of people of their own class they 
 possess ; but the friendship and the sympathy of a 
 woman socially and morally better than themselves 
 elevate them. A colour is given to their lives. No- 
 thing enables them to remain virtuous, and to tolerate 
 the harshness of life, so surely as the consciousness 
 of such a friendship, to which they may look for advice, 
 help, encouragement, for everything, in short, that 
 can be included in the word " friendship " in its best 
 and widest sense. 
 
 It is a comprehensive friendship. One is called 
 on to attend to and give advice on a multiplicity of 
 matters that might well puzzle the wisest ; but one has 
 to be prepared, and to impress on the poor women the 
 fact that one is always ready with some solution or 
 remedy for the complications which arise from time 
 to time. The correspondence such \vork entails is 
 enormous ; for even the fortunate ones do not like 
 dropping out of recollection, and, apart from the mass 
 of writing which the everyday work of the Home 
 necessitates, one would be very unwilling to leave un- 
 answered the Christmas or New-Year letters from 
 women who are prospering and happy, but have not 
 forgotten the woman who came to them in the dark 
 hours of shame and sorrow, and have responded to 
 that help so fully that they can now look back on the 
 past as upon a hideous dream. 
 
 The most softening and powerful influence with 
 many women is the love of their child. With some it 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 175 
 
 is all-absorbing, and when it is so one need never fear 
 for the mother's future. Many women, on the other 
 hand, are indifferent, not wishing the child to die, but 
 performing their duty to it, such as paying for its 
 support and clothing, in a perfunctory manner, and 
 evincing no interest in it one way or another. Even in 
 such cases, that the child should live is very important ; 
 for with those in whose breasts the maternal instinct 
 is dumb one wonders that it should ever be other- 
 wise the existence of the child is a check on any 
 tendency to relapse into immorality, which they pro- 
 bably might do were it dead. Thus, for most women, 
 it is better that the unwelcome little one should live. 
 The mother who is careless is protected by it against 
 herself ; and to the mother who loves it, it is the one 
 being in the world, shameful although its existence is, 
 on whom she can lavish affection. It is often said, 
 How can she care for a child which is a symbol 
 of shame, and will be a burden for years ? To a 
 superficial observer, this seems unanswerable. The 
 maternal instinct, however, is so strong in woman that, 
 bad as she often is, there always remains one break 
 in the clouds of her dark life, the love of her child ; 
 and I have seldom seen more genuine grief than that 
 of an erring mother \vhen her babe died. 
 
 The children are too often neglected from the 
 inability of mothers to keep up the payments for their 
 support ; and where, as is frequently the case, the 
 wages are small, and not paid regularly, the foster- 
 mother is less careful, and they die, not so much from 
 
176 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 starvation as from over-feeding with food they cannot 
 digest, which is given them because it is cheaper and 
 more easily procurable than the milk that should, at a 
 tender age, be their only diet. It is alwa}^s important 
 to make a woman realise that the responsibility of 
 supporting the child rests on her, on her alone. To 
 help her by giving her money is ill-advised. One 
 method that has been tried with girls who were unfit 
 for good situations, and could only earn sufficient 
 wages to pay for the child, is to contribute from time to 
 time to their outfit, making it a condition of so doing 
 that their entire earnings are to be paid to the foster- 
 mother. On the whole, this is the safest and least 
 objectionable way of helping them. 
 
 In many cases, especially when the child is dead, if 
 emigration were possible, it would be by far the best 
 means of saving a woman. If she could go to a new 
 country where her story was unknown, and could cut 
 herself adrift from her past, she would be in a much 
 better position to begin her life anew. Often a w T oman 
 never rises to any substantially better position than 
 that which she occupied before her fall, because of 
 the people who knew about her, whose presence is 
 always a reminder of what she should live to forget ; 
 added to which there is the chance of her coming across 
 the man who ruined her, towards whom, probably, 
 she has still some feelings of affection. It is natural 
 that the Colonial authorities should be anxious that the 
 wives and mothers of their country should be good 
 women. Nothing is more reprehensible and dishonest 
 
HELPING THE FALLEN. 177 
 
 than schemes, which many people countenance, of 
 sending away to the New World those who are too lazy 
 to work or too dissolute to be tolerated in England ; 
 but I think it might be feasible to organize an associa- 
 tion which would enable women, after serving a certain 
 term of probation in this country, to emigrate with ad- 
 vantage to themselves and with no detriment to their 
 new home. 
 
 There remains only one other point of interest : 
 the probable result, successful or otherwise, of attempt- 
 ing to rescue women not altogether depraved or past 
 repentance. There are few works, if any, for improv- 
 ing and helping the poor unfortunate in which the 
 success or the failure of the attempt is seen so quickly. 
 In many charitable works the results of the labour are 
 not seen for years, or those helped drift before the 
 work done has had time to bear fruit ; but with this 
 work it is just the reverse. In six months, or within a 
 year at most, it is easy to see what the result is to be. 
 The woman is either morally stronger and better, strug- 
 gling successfully with her up-hill life and making 
 heroic efforts to repay all that has been done for her, 
 or she is a poor spiritless creature, who will need all 
 the help and sympathy she can get if she is not to fall 
 back into her old life. Endeavours to raise up and 
 improve the condition of those who, from want of 
 training or of moral strength, cannot help themselves 
 are not always successful ; and those who enter on the 
 work in too sanguine a spirit are doomed to disappoint- 
 ment. There are times of failure, and moments of 
 
 N 
 
178 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 great depression. They should not dishearten any one, 
 but act as a spur to continued exertion, in the end to 
 be crowned with success. It is not easy to speak with 
 certainty as to the number of women who are rescued 
 by, in proportion to the number who are received into, 
 Homes. It may, however, be mentioned that in a 
 recent year no fewer than one hundred and thirty-six 
 women were rescued by two Homes out of one hundred 
 and forty-eight received into them. 
 
 In these days of luxury, extravagance, and self- 
 indulgence, women should turn for a moment from their 
 happy life, and give a thought to their suffering and 
 struggling sisters, many of w r hom have known days of 
 luxury and pleasure, and are now groping along the 
 dark road of expiation. The work is essentially a 
 woman's work. It is too much fraught with risk for any 
 man to attempt although many men have achieved 
 in it great results. It is for women to hold out the 
 hand of fellowship, and lead the fallen back to a 
 pure life. To do that successfully, they must approach 
 the subject in a practical spirit, putting on one side the 
 sentimental and romantic aspects of the question. 
 One of the many objections urged against the work is 
 that if you render the consequences of the sin less 
 painful to a woman you diminish her dread of falling, 
 and that the result of the efforts made to save her has 
 been to increase the number of fallen women. As an 
 answer to this objection, it may be stated that the 
 workhouse returns in the parishes where those insti- 
 tutions are located show, by the diminished number of 
 
OF T; 
 
 UNIVERSIT 
 
 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 their inmates, that the women have sought the Refuge 
 or the Home in preference to the Workhouse, and that 
 the Home has, therefore, done the desired work in 
 rescuing them from the baneful influence of the House. 
 No good is all good, and no evil unmixed evil ; and 
 there will always be enthusiastic people, whose dis- 
 cretion exceeds their discernment, who will tell you 
 that every woman can be rescued, and cynical 
 people, who will impress on you that your money, 
 time, and sympathy, are wasted, and that you are the 
 dupe of designing and untruthful creatures, who im- 
 pose on your credulity and good-nature. So it often 
 may be ; but, for all that, the number of the women 
 who have been rescued and restored to respectable 
 positions in society has exceeded sanguine expecta- 
 tions. 
 
 It is neither desirable nor possible to enter into any 
 particulars as to individual cases ; but there are some 
 that stand out prominently as beacons across the dark 
 night of human sin and suffering characters and dis- 
 positions as fine and noble as have lived on this earth. 
 Recalling the first moment when they came across 
 one's path, one cannot doubt that, had no helping hand 
 been ready to lift them up, the world would have been 
 so much the poorer, because they would have drifted 
 back into the abyss. To seek out and save such women 
 is a privilege which none of us should neglect. 
 No woman can throw herself into such work without 
 feeling that, if her influence and example are to be the 
 moving power, she must raise her own standard of 
 
 N 2 
 
180 HELPING THE FALLEN. 
 
 what a woman's life should be ; and that conviction 
 must have an elevating influence on her character. 
 The ultimate incentives, however, should be love of 
 humanity, sympathy with even the most degraded, and 
 the belief that, whilst we cannot make people perfect, 
 we may all help to make them better than they are. 
 
 
 
SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 To say that in a great city like London, with its 
 millions of inhabitants, vice does not exist, is to affirm 
 what we all know to be impossible. In considering 
 how to cure the evil, we should approach the subject 
 calmly, divesting ourselves of any wish to look at the 
 sentimental or morbid side of the matter, putting aside 
 any desire to make political or class capital out of so 
 grievous a reproach, and devote all our thoughts and 
 energies towards devising some way of cleansing our 
 towns of the pollution that flows through them. A 
 long period of anxious work among the poor fallen 
 women of London and other places teaches two things : 
 first, that these women are invariably untruthful ; 
 and, secondly, that in ninety-nine cases out of a hun- 
 dred the men who led them astray are in their own 
 position of life. We do not say "untruthful" un- 
 kindly. The life that a fallen woman leads, and 
 the necessity of concealing her condition and the 
 causes of it, make her resort to every device and 
 subterfuge to prevent the truth from being discovered 
 as long as possible ; and, having begun by deceiving 
 
1 82 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 every one, the web growing closer and closer around 
 her, she is unable to extricate herself, and so goes 
 on to the very last moment trying to hide her 
 shame by a story which she knows to be false from 
 beginning to end. With still greater caution should 
 be received the statements of women themselves 
 hardened in vice, or the ministers of vice in others. 
 Such persons are unscrupulous to the last degree : not, 
 perhaps, so much from calculated wickedness as from 
 moral decadence, the effect of a life which warps and 
 destroys everything that is honourable in human 
 nature. One great point that has been made in this 
 terrible indictment is that the vices of which we speak 
 are the vices of the upper classes, and are the result 
 of the self-indulgence, the luxury, and the wickedness, 
 of educated and aristocratic men. Many years' ex- 
 perience qualifies one to contradict that belief. Of 
 many thousand women of whose past one knows every 
 detail, a large proportion are precisely those who might 
 have been corrupted by members of the wealthier 
 classes ; but one can count on one's fingers the number 
 that even said they were ruined by " gentlemen," 
 and with regard to the special class of which we have 
 heard so much the same thing is true. 
 
 It is not with all that has been said and written that 
 we wish to deal. The evil is around us in quite sad 
 aspect enough, howsoever much we can honestly 
 minimise it ; and the question is, How can we deal 
 with it ? What are the causes which bring it about, 
 over and above the inevitable one, that human nature 
 
SAVING THE INNOCENT. 183 
 
 is stronger than any laws we can make to restrain and 
 check it ? Let us first look at such causes, and then 
 try to find some practical remedy. I do not believe it 
 possible to do much to rescue and restore to any posi- 
 tion, in any kind of society, the lowest class of fallen 
 women in this country. Many of them are too degraded 
 to accept or wish for help ; and the difficulty of finding 
 any work for a woman who has led, while it lasted, a 
 gay, reckless life, which, even on its darker side, had 
 many things which made it varied and exciting, is 
 almost insuperable. The dull routine of an ordinary 
 woman's life, reached by her, as it must be, through the 
 reformatory and the washtub, would be intolerable ; and 
 there is nothing else. She is too degraded for an ordi- 
 nary home and domestic service, and she is unfit physi- 
 cally and for want of training. Therefore, we must 
 leave her out of our calculations in any work that can 
 be done practically to check the evil, finding what con- 
 solation we may in the recollection that there are many 
 good Christian women working night after night in the 
 streets of our large towns, and that under their 
 tender influence some of the poor sheep may come 
 back to the fold. We then come to the class for which 
 a great deal can be clone that of the woman who has 
 just fallen and is thrown on the world, deserted by the 
 man who has deceived her and left her, with her child, 
 in such a state of weakness and misery that she is 
 easily reached by sympathy and kindness. This 
 class of woman, drawn chiefly from among domestic 
 servants, dressmakers, barmaids, and needlewomen, is 
 
1 84 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 the largest, and the one with which most good can be 
 done. 
 
 The work that is being carried on among this class 
 is enormous. Although it is rescue work in its literal 
 sense, it is also truly preventive ; and is the only 
 work that can ever cope with the evil, and check its 
 growth. By " preventive " I mean saving the woman 
 from deeper degradation, and helping her to get a 
 fresh start in life, giving her hope, and letting her feel 
 that she has gained personal human sympathy, to 
 which she can appeal if temptation again assail her. 
 It is of this woman and her child I speak. I believe 
 that in helping her and her child we shall be doing 
 more to reduce the evil than could be done by hysterical 
 outcry or by legislation. It is not only, or so much, the 
 poor mother who calls for our interest and aid, as the 
 little waifs and strays of humanity, the child who is no 
 one's child no one's child to claim love and protection, 
 and no one's child to be injured and ruined, if that 
 should be. Few realise how largely the ranks of our 
 criminal classes are recruited from the poor little souls 
 who have never known mother's or father's affection, 
 whose lives have been a curse and misfortune to them 
 from their births, who have been neglected and ill- 
 treated, and at last driven to stealing and the streets 
 by the mothers, to whom the}' have been an incubus 
 from the day they were born. 
 
 There are many causes which lead to a girl's ruin : 
 some preventible. The most obvious are bad com- 
 panions, love of dress and drink, and, among the 
 
SAVING THE INNOCENT. 185 
 
 f 
 servant class, the want of care and interest that many 
 
 mistresses have for their servants. Most girls among 
 the very poorest class go to service early, about 
 fourteen years of age ; and they then begin the life 
 of slavery of an English maid-of-all-work among the 
 middle classes. She is a little machine out of whom as 
 much work is to be got as can be ; and when, either 
 from bad companionship she is no longer willing to be 
 a servant, or from overwork she is broken down in 
 health, she is turned adrift with no thought or care for 
 her future, and another machine is put in her place, till, 
 perhaps, she, in her turn, shares her predecessor's 
 fate. The middle-class mistress, although she sins in 
 the matter of overwork, is not worse than her more 
 wealthy sisters. She is very often a delicate, irritable 
 woman with a large family, and a husband earning 
 just enough to enable them to keep their heads above 
 water, and she has probably to work as hard as her 
 maid. The struggle for life has stifled any sympathy 
 or thoughtfulness for others; and so the hard life of 
 the little slave goes on, broken only by the Sunday 
 out and the Bank Holiday a day of supreme joy, 
 but more fruitful of evil than almost any other in 
 the year to our servants and the women employed in 
 London shops. Almost every lying-in hospital or 
 workhouse will bear me out in saying that the 
 women who date their fall from the different holidays 
 of the year are a very large proportion of those who 
 go to those institutions to be confined ; and the Bank 
 holidays in this country are in this instance an un- 
 
1 86 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 mixed evil as far as a certain class of young women is 
 concerned. 
 
 The richer women in our country are just as much 
 to blame for the little care and interest they show in 
 their servants. Their extravagance in dress is the 
 first bad example to a young girl, who finds at the 
 nearest shops plenty of tawdry finery to enable her to 
 imitate her mistress. The wastefulness of living, the 
 want of any religious example or restraint, and the 
 general atmosphere of indulgence, extend from the 
 drawing-room to the servants' hall. We never think 
 of enquiring whether our women servants are tl keep- 
 ing company " with respectable men, or know any- 
 thing about the matter ; and, while we need not 
 measure our responsibility by them as we do our 
 responsibility by our daughters and sisters, we stand 
 grievously condemned for not paying more care and 
 attention to their welfare, and especially for not enabling 
 them to see their friends under some kind of control 
 and supervision, instead of turning them out into the 
 streets and parks during the long evenings they are 
 at liberty. 
 
 Much is being done in England to guard young 
 women engaged in business during the day from the 
 peril of our streets at night. There are coffee-houses 
 and clubs, with their reading-rooms and healthy amuse- 
 ments ; there are friendly societies and guilds which, 
 besides enrolling them on their books, take a lively 
 personal interest in each member. Although the Girls' 
 Friendly Society also extends its benefits to domestic 
 
SAVING THE INNOCENT. 187 
 
 servants, the help it can give is only occasional. It is 
 from her mistress that the girl can and ought to have a 
 good example and help; and, as a class, the mistresses 
 of small establishments in England have been very re- 
 miss in their duty. In the large houses in England, 
 where there is a good housekeeper or upper servant, 
 the same objection cannot be taken. The supervision 
 there is generally excellent, and it is rare to find fallen 
 girls among servants who have had situations only in 
 houses of the highest class. Every mistress ought to 
 consider it a duty to look after her servants : to try and 
 check their extravagance in dress ; to stop their love 
 of the wretched, tawdry finery so many of our servants 
 delight in ; to exercise some control over their com- 
 panions ; and as far as possible to try and make them 
 become teetotallers. Drink is one of the most perilous 
 stumbling-blocks not habitual drinking, but the oc- 
 casional glass taken while out for a holiday, which in 
 many cases leads to every evil. How often, when one 
 has been talking to a woman of the causes which have 
 brought her to the workhouse, and the state of desti- 
 tution in which we find her, has come the answer, " I 
 went into a public house and had a glass or two of beer, 
 and I could not get home that night;" and you have the 
 whole story of a ruined life. If the women of England 
 would look on their servants as something more than 
 machines, and realise that they are women like them- 
 selves, subject to the same weaknesses of temper and 
 disposition, sometimes ^vanting rest and sympathy, and, 
 remembering this, would try to act up to it, we should 
 
1 88 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 have fewer miserable broken-down women than we 
 have, and great deal less suffering. Servants are not 
 perfect, or near perfection ; but, on the other hand, 
 no more are their mistresses, and a little forbear- 
 ance and patience would often save a tired, worn-out, 
 unhappy servant from taking the first step on a down- 
 ward course. There must needs be offences; but woe 
 to us if we leave one stone unturned to avoid causing 
 offence. 
 
 Having pointed out some of the causes which lead 
 to much suffering and sin in this country, I venture 
 to suggest what, conscious of many possible objections, 
 would, I believe, be an important step in the direction 
 of prevention. 
 
 Many years ago, the guardians of one of the largest 
 metropolitan workhouses gave me permission to visit 
 the lying-in ward of the infirmary. The inmates were 
 principally servants and dressmakers without friends 
 in London, or any means of subsistence, deserted by 
 the men who had ruined them, and so driven into 
 the workhouse. They remained there till they were 
 strong enough to work or go out, or were received 
 into some of the many Homes existing to help such 
 cases. They were usually seen by the House Committee 
 before leaving, who, questioning them as to their future, 
 were generally kind and willing to help if help were 
 needed. Enquiries were made in each case as to the 
 woman's knowledge of the position, and employment, 
 and whereabouts, of the father tf her child ; and if she 
 expressed a wish to have the child affiliated the autho- 
 
SAVING THE INNOCENT. 189 
 
 rities tried to carry it out. After a while, a girl goes 
 to service, and the wages she (the ordinary servant 
 who has been driven into the workhouse because she 
 has fallen) can command vary, according to her capa- 
 bilities, from 10 to 20 a year. She finds a woman 
 more or less respectable to take charge of her 
 baby, and she undertakes to pay out of her salary 55. 
 a week, or 13 a year, leaving her 2 for clothing, 
 boots, etc. The man is never heard of again, and she 
 starts to try and lead a new and steadier life. She 
 may be a lucky girl : she may find a kind mistress 
 who knows of her fall, and is willing to assist her with 
 clothing, and will raise her wages in a few months : 
 and she gets on fairly well, just keeping herself 
 straight with great difficulty, while paying for her 
 child : and as time elapses her wages are raised, and 
 she manages to weather the storm. Eventually she 
 marries ; and her husband, if a good fellow, overlooks 
 her fault, and lets the child share his and his children's 
 home. This is a bright picture, but the exception ; 
 although there are many such cases. There is the 
 other side of the picture. A poor, spiritless girl, 
 without much strength or energy does not command 
 even the 1$ of her more fortunate sister. She 
 gets a less good place, and does badly, changes her 
 situation often, gets into debt, and cannot possibly 
 keep up the payments for her child. If the woman 
 who has the child is kind and will wait, some small 
 sum can be paid in -time ; but if she presses for 
 payment and is, as is often the case, a very poor 
 
190 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 woman, and has taken the child to eke out her own 
 living by the payment she gets for taking charge of 
 it, she cannot afford to wait. The wretched mother is 
 bound to get money somehow, and generally turns for 
 help to some man who probably insists on his own 
 terms in repayment; and then she drifts away again, 
 another outcast on the streets of London. What 
 becomes of the baby ? It stays for some time with 
 its foster-mother, who is fairly kind to it ; but it has 
 to take its chance. If it is a weakly child it lives 
 or struggles on for a short time, against terrible odds, 
 having every illness flesh is heir to, until at last 
 the little neglected life goes out. Who knows but 
 that it is best? As things now are, who can doubt that 
 death is preferable to life for such a child? Another 
 child will not die ; and after a while, seeing no chance 
 of being paid, its nurse insists on being rid of it, 
 and someone else takes it for a time, and then someone 
 else ; and the story is repeated until the child is old 
 enough to know that it belongs to no one, and is cared 
 for by no one. ' It has no home, and no home ties or 
 associations. It is a little waif on the river of life, and 
 it floats down and is lost in the ocean of sin which 
 engulfs so many. If the child is a boy, he often steals. 
 He may providentially be caught in time, and sent to 
 an industrial school, where he has a chance of 
 beginning a new life. If a girl, she goes her way 
 too ; and that is to the bad, by a shorter but more 
 terrible road, for there is ample proof that many of 
 the fallen children in London are the children of 
 

 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 191 
 
 the women whose history I have described ; and 
 worse than all is the fact that many a woman is 
 thankful by these means to get rid of the child that 
 has been the curse and burden of her life. There is 
 sometimes the brighter story ; but we cannot disguise 
 from ourselves that the fate of most of the children is 
 one or other of these two fates death for the \veakly 
 ones, and a living death, worse than anything we can 
 picture to ourselves, for those that are strong enough 
 to live. 
 
 All sentimental and humanitarian feelings on one side, 
 it seems a serious loss to the country. Many of the 
 children are by nature strong and vigorous, and would 
 grow up good citizens if they had a fair chance. As 
 long as society takes its present view, and we are afraid 
 to recognise the fact that there is an enormous annual 
 addition to the population of children whose existence 
 is a reproach and a shame, children who are only to 
 be looked on as pariahs and outcasts, so long will this 
 massacre of the innocents continue, and we shall go 
 on closing our eyes and ears to the evil, leaving what 
 little is done to diminish it to charity and voluntary 
 efforts. The time for closing our eyes has passed ; 
 and we are bound now to face the matter bravely, and 
 to admit that we owe a duty, as a community, to those 
 children, by recognising their claims to our protection. 
 Their parents cannot or will not protect them ; and, 
 as we insist on every parent recognising his responsi- 
 bility to support his legal children, and enforce that 
 duty in the strongest way, we are bound to succour 
 
192 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 the most helpless, for the very reason that they have 
 no legal protection whatever. 
 
 If we insisted on a compulsory registration of all 
 illegitimate births in workhouses, in lying-in hos- 
 pitals, and in private houses being rigidly enforced, 
 making the Boards of Guardians the authority to 
 carry it out, we should then begin to know, with some 
 certainty, the number of children with whom we have 
 to deal ; and the first step would be taken. 
 
 We should begin by assuming that the fact of a woman 
 being obliged to come to the workhouse for her confine- 
 ment is a sufficient proof of her poverty and destitution, 
 and that she is practically unable to pay for the support 
 of her child on leaving. Amid such circumstances, the 
 guardians should keep the child, and bring it up, not 
 allowing the mother to leave the house till she has 
 found employment, and then making an agreement with 
 her employer that a certain portion of her earnings 
 is to be paid to them as legal guardians of her child. 
 
 It seems at first a complete revolution of our Poor 
 Law system ; yet, well worked, it would prove both 
 economical and effectual. The plan of helping a 
 woman by taking her child and making her pay in pro- 
 portion to her earnings towards its support is not new. 
 It is carried out with excellent effect by the Church 
 of England Home for Waifs and Strays and other 
 charities, The mother can see her child when she likes ; 
 and, knowing that it is well cared for, she feels she is 
 making all possible reparation for the injury she has 
 done it, by giving her share towards its being brought 
 

 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 193 
 
 up a good and healthy man or woman. Her love is not 
 starved or crushed out by feeling that everything she 
 can scrape and save must go to her child, and the 
 moral effect on the woman is excellent. The maternal 
 instinct is quickened, and the love for her child is 
 often a real help to her in the hour of temptation. 
 
 If such an arrangement is entered upon, one most 
 important fact must not be lost sight of. In helping 
 the woman by mitigating the consequences of her sin, 
 people often forget the partner of her guilt. She alone 
 often bears the consequences. The shame and the 
 suffering are hers. The man escapes altogether. Such 
 an immunity from punishment is monstrously unjust. 
 The woman is very often to blame. Some remnant of 
 affection some hope that, if left alone, he may be 
 touched by pity and marry her, or, if not, perchance 
 help her from time to time, which he is sure not to 
 do if she tries to affiliate the child keeps her silent ; 
 and she -bears the burden alone. Such a condition 
 of things ought not to continue ; and if the guar- 
 dians of a parish, or some other responsible body, 
 are bound to take the child, bring it up, educate it, and 
 start it in life, with the mother's co-operation, it surely 
 follows, as a matter of course, that they should find 
 the father also, and make him bear his share in the 
 matter. It is not an easy thing, for many reasons, 
 to bring home the paternity of the child, and it is 
 most necessary that the evidence about it should be 
 perfectly clear ; but many a man goes unpunished 
 partly through the weakness of the woman, and partly 
 
194 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 because, if she will not prosecute him, it is no one 
 else's business. The same authority should be obliged 
 to take every possible seep to find the father of a 
 child, and the same arrangement should be made 
 with regard to his supporting the child as is made 
 with the mother. They should both pay their share in 
 proportion to their earnings. If a man were -in good, 
 permanent employment, he obviously should pay more 
 than the mother out of her smaller wages. We should 
 by those means give a strong inducement to the woman 
 to divulge all she knew as to the situation, salary, and 
 position, of the man, and make her at once the best 
 detective, instead of leaving her, as she now is, very 
 often the only person who will shield him and prevent 
 the law from taking its course. Nothing really practical 
 can be done to stop the evil until we make both sides 
 realise that the same law applies to them equally, and 
 that no means will be left untried to bring the conse- 
 quences home to both. . 
 
 If this system could be tried, and men and women in 
 this country knew that there was an authority with 
 facilities for finding out everything connected with this 
 particular episode in their life, and that, having done 
 so, it possessed the power of inflicting on both of- 
 fenders a heavy pecuniary penalty, which would be 
 enforced with the utmost severity, that that penalty 
 would last over many years, and that there was no way 
 of escape from it, we should be doing more to solve one 
 of the greatest social problems than could be expected 
 from any plan which has yet been devised. The 
 
5^ VING THE INNOCENT. 195 
 
 moment we take the child and protect it from the 
 ill-usage and neglect which is sure to be its lot, and 
 constitute it a log round the necks of its parents as long 
 as it lives, we do two very important things. We make 
 a man pause before he ruins a woman ; and we save many 
 a woman from falling a second time, which she might 
 do if the expense and responsibility of the child's life 
 were removed. 
 
 The Poor-Law machinery which already exists could 
 carry this out ; but it would need adapting and de- 
 veloping as time went on. There are the pauper schools 
 in connection with every parish ; but one of the most 
 important points in the new system would be that the 
 children should not be brought up in the same schools 
 or come under the influence of the floating pauper 
 class of children, who come in and out of the pauper 
 schools as their parents, for various reasons, go in and 
 out of the workhouse. What we should aim at, besides 
 saving the lives of the children, is proving that we 
 can produce respectable men and women from the waifs 
 and strays of our country. The common saying is that 
 criminals breed criminals, and paupers, paupers ; but this 
 is not necessarily true. If we remove children from evil 
 influences while they are too young to remember or 
 to deteriorate, we can bring them up to be as good and 
 steady as the children of well-to-do respectable people. 
 We will find in many of the industrial schools and refor- 
 matories little children who have been taken away from 
 some of the dens of iniquity in our towns, and at the 
 end of a few weeks have completely forgotten the 
 
196 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 unhappy past. Very young children are not capable 
 of retaining distinct impressions, and their natures are 
 generally so pliable and responsive that they can be 
 made whatever the persons who are with them wish 
 them to be. Therefore, it is very important that, 
 if possible, the schools and homes for those children 
 should be kept apart from the schools for the pauper 
 children. 
 
 The training for the boys might be carried out very 
 much on the lines of that which is given at the 
 Gordon Camp ; or farming on a large scale might be 
 tried, and the boys taught to be labourers. The 
 Society of the Church of England Home for Waifs 
 and Strays are working a farm in Staffordshire ; and 
 Mr. Taylor, at Sheffield, has been so employed, with 
 his boys, for some time, very successfully. With the 
 training ships for boys, and many similar institutions, 
 no one can urge as an objection to this plan that it is 
 an experiment. 
 
 The difficulties in regard to boys are small in com- 
 parison with those in regard to girls. As long as the 
 girl continues in the school and her training is going on 
 she is safe. A workhouse-school education is not an 
 ideal one for a woman ; but it has the advantage of dis- 
 cipline, and of certain religious and softening influences, 
 which are continuous while she remains, and induce 
 habits of orderliness. Still, she cannot well be kept at 
 school after she is sixteen, and it is then that the serious 
 difficulty of her life begins. In the case of pauper 
 children the workhouse supervision continues to be 
 
SA VING THE INNOCENT. 197 
 
 exercised for a year or two after that age ; and this 
 is supplemented in many cases by the efforts of the 
 society known as the Metropolitan Association for 
 Befriending Young Servants, which was founded by 
 the late Mrs. Nassau Senior, whose experience as an 
 inspector of pauper schools taught her the necessity 
 for such an institution. Perhaps that is all that can be 
 done in this country for the girls of the class with 
 which I am dealing. The best and kindest thing we 
 could do for them would be to help them to emigrate. 
 They would be removed from any objectionable re- 
 lations or influences, and have a better chance, in a 
 new country, where nothing was known of their birth 
 and training, than in this, where the workhouse 
 training is a taint and a reproach. In those fresh 
 lands they would have a surer prospect of realising 
 our desire for their future, and of becoming happy 
 w T ives and mothers. 
 
 The two objections that will be urged against 
 this scheme are, first, the expense, and, next, the State 
 interference in the relations betwixt a man, a woman, 
 and their child. The expense in the first instance 
 would, no doubt, be considerable ; but the payments 
 enforced would nearly cover the annual outlay. Five 
 shillings a week, which would probably be the amount 
 paid between the parents, covers the whole expense 
 of a child in small homes and nurseries, up to the 
 age when by their work the children can contribute 
 something to their own support ; and in a large institu- 
 tion, where children are counted by hundreds instead 
 
198 SAVING THE INNOCENT. 
 
 of by twenties or thirties, it would cost less in pro- 
 portion per head ; and at a very early age a boy's 
 work becomes remunerative. Besides, if we recog- 
 nise that something should be done to save these 
 children from crime or death, we surely should not 
 shrink from some cost. If we only consider for a 
 moment what we pay for a site for a school, or what 
 \ve spend or can save in one item in our School Board 
 expenditure in a year, we should not hesitate about 
 making this effort; and we should find it a true economy 
 in the saving that would be effected in the decrease of 
 crime, and in one other not inconsiderable item. One 
 of the most constant inmates of our workhouses would 
 disappear altogether the poor woman who has left 
 the workhouse with her child, and tried to struggle on, 
 battling with the world, in and out of the workhouse, 
 as work is slack or plentiful, till at last, after sufferings- 
 and privations hardly conceivable, she gives the conflict 
 up and comes into the house for good. The child is sent 
 to the pauper schools ; and the woman settles down to 
 the dull despairing life of a workhouse inmate, and be- 
 comes, with her child, a permanent charge on the rates. 
 Surely, besides what she and her child cost the rate- 
 payers, there is something to be said in favour of making 
 such a fate for any woman impossible. The objection 
 as to the State interfering between the parents and the 
 child, or, rather, standing between them so as to 
 protect the child, appears to me to be answered by 
 clear precedent. The Industrial School Acts remove 
 children from the custody of their parents if either 
 
SAVING THE INNOCENT. 199 
 
 their parents cannot control them or it is considered 
 (from evidence given before a magistrate) that a parent 
 or parents are teaching the children to become crimi- 
 nals, and also when the children are treated brutally or 
 neglected. The father is then ordered to pay a weekty 
 sum towards the child's support. There does not seem 
 any fundamental difference between this and what we 
 propose. Then, there is the advantage of taking a 
 child away before it has had time to come into con- 
 scious contact with the infamy of its circumstances. 
 
 Were the evil of less magnitude, we would gladly 
 leave it in a great measure to be dealt with by private 
 benevolence ; but it has long since assumed proportions 
 which make that out of the question, and it is growing 
 every day. The thousands of children born annually 
 from unmarried parents call loudly now for some recog- 
 nition, and until the community accept the responsi- 
 bility of seeing that the parents support the children 
 nothing will save them. It requires personal know- 
 ledge of the sin and suffering connected with the 
 subject to make one realise its importance. We have 
 year after year, seen healthy children who were sent 
 out to nurse when the mother had to go to service 
 brought back to the home or the workhouse, at the end 
 of only a few weeks dying of neglect with an expres- 
 sion of agony on their little faces that has wrung one's 
 heart ; and there are more painful sights than the death 
 and release of the poor little suffering soul. We 
 see the children of these women, growing up to be 
 the same as, and worse than, their mothers : at a 
 
200 SAVING THE INNOCENTS. 
 
 tender age driven to an evil life for want of care and 
 control, and sometimes driven by the mother herself. 
 The [thought of such a thing is appalling. It is this 
 knowledge, besides a great deal more than one has heart 
 to write of, which makes us urge our authorities to take 
 some steps to protect these children in the manner 
 indicated. Even that will not wipe out the evil ; but it 
 will diminish it. We cannot make people good by Act 
 of Parliament ; but we can take means to improve them 
 not as a measure of sentiment or pauperisation, but 
 in such a way as to make all men accept and realise 
 the consequences of their actions. We are all striving 
 for the same end, howsoever different and imperfect 
 our means of attaining it may be. We want all our 
 boys and girls to grow up good and honest men and 
 women. Clear as our object is, the path to it may 
 easily be missed; and in the case of those unhappy little 
 beings who owe their existence to a man's guilt and a 
 woman's weakness two conditions are of paramount 
 necessity: first, the supervision of the children by a 
 proper authority, and, next, the enforcement by such 
 authority on both parents of their responsibility. 
 
2OI 
 
 
 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 The demand for a purely literary education for women 
 is on the wane. Advocates of an intellectual as opposed 
 to an industrial training for girls are realising that 
 there are more women in England than can ever 
 support themselves by teaching alone, and that other 
 professions by which they can earn a livelihood must 
 be found. Before the beginning of the movement 
 for the higher education of women, the knowledge 
 which they possessed was very elementary. A 
 smattering of accomplishments, added to a slender 
 acquaintance with profound subjects, was considered 
 sufficient to fit them to be teachers or governesses. 
 As the movement progressed, and women proved 
 themselves capable of taking their place with men in 
 the intellectual arena, the standard of their education 
 was raised. All over the country, schools for girls 
 sprang up ; colleges, founded on the same basis as those 
 for the sterner sex, were opened ; and the honours 
 won by women in the examinations justified high 
 expectations. 
 
 It soon became evident that the revival in education 
 could not be confined to those women whose mental 
 
202 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 qualifications raised them pre-eminently above their 
 sisters. All wished to participate in the advantages 
 that the new system introduced. The opening of 
 large day schools for girls in London, and in all great 
 towns, at which tuition of the most approved kind 
 was given, created a change among the middle classes 
 which almost revolutionized the state of ' affairs. 
 Instead of being taught by a governess at home, the 
 daughters of a house were sent to a high school for the 
 day. In this way, girls were much better educated, 
 teaching in classes developing a spirit of emulation 
 which spurred them to greater efforts. 
 
 A very few years showed the effect of the change. 
 The women who enjoyed the advantages of the first 
 impetus given by the new system soon reaped their 
 reward. The passing of the Education Act, with the 
 multiplication of schools and the demand for teachers, 
 afforded them unexpected opportunities of employment, 
 and the large salaries they received repaid the time and 
 money they had spent in educating themselves. 
 
 Still, even as man cannot live by bread alone, all 
 women cannot live by teaching. The movement, which 
 had accomplished a great work and opened up lives of 
 intellectual activity to many women, pressed cruelly on 
 others who earned, by teaching, small but certain in- 
 comes. Families depending on the earnings of a 
 widowed mother or sister gradually found, with the 
 educational changes of the day, their means of sub- 
 sistence failing them. There are few sadder stories 
 than those of the struggles of ladies who strove to live 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 203 
 
 by teaching. Nevertheless, the reform had a brighter 
 aspect. 
 
 Bitter experience, having shown women that they 
 should no longer consider teaching the only vocation 
 which a lady could follow without losing position, also 
 incited them to discover some means by which they 
 could redress the evil ; and the fact that living by teach- 
 ing had become more difficult was recognized by even 
 the warmest advocates of the higher education of 
 women. 
 
 Theoretically, every child in England is taught some- 
 thing that will enable him or her to earn a living ; but 
 the training has hitherto been purely intellectual. 
 Children are taught reading, writing, arithmetic, and 
 whatever other subjects of a like nature they have 
 capacity to acquire. Education of a technical nature, 
 to train them in some industrial knowledge and enable 
 them to learn the elements of work of which they 
 could make a profession, has been neglected. The 
 separation of technical and elementary education has 
 been a great misfortune. Owing to the poverty of 
 parents in many cases, and to their cupidity in others, 
 children are removed from school as soon as they have 
 passed the standard which the law enforces, and are 
 put to work, their earnings adding to the income of 
 the family. The education they have received is 
 narrowly limited. They have mastered the Three R's 
 to so small an extent that the schooling is of no real 
 value. 
 
 The technical education of girls is of quite as much 
 
204 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 importance as that of boys ; and, unfortunately, among 
 the very poor classes, especially in large towns, many 
 of the mothers are absolutely incapable of imparting 
 the ordinary domestic knowledge necessary to every 
 woman, which accounts for the dirt, improvidence, and 
 waste, of so many households. 
 
 Thus we find that, with no training at home, many 
 married women have lost whatever traditionary house- 
 wifery their mothers may have had, and can neither 
 cook nor sew. The food of the household is un- 
 savoury and extravagant, and the whole nonage has 
 an untidiness and discomfort that drives the husband 
 to the public-house. For girls of this class there is 
 needed some training in the very elements of house- 
 wifery, \vhile for all women a much more general 
 knowledge of household matters is needed. 
 
 The cause of those failures is not obscure. It is 
 want of -training. Some women are by nature un- 
 thrifty and untidy, and no training would have much 
 effect on them ; but those are a small section, and are 
 confined more especially to the lower classes. English- 
 women (generally speaking) are orderly in domestic 
 matters, in spite of the want of method which is one 
 of the defects of the present system of education. 
 Many of the difficulties would be surmounted were it 
 the custom in England to instruct every girl, whether 
 rich or poor, in some elementary knowledge of domestic 
 and industrial subjects. All professional work calls for 
 a mastery of minute details, and in no occupation is 
 such complete knowledge of more importance than it 
 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 205 
 
 is in that of the mistress of a household. In other 
 countries, the importance of educating girls in subjects 
 by which they can earn their livelihood, otherwise than 
 by teaching, is recognized ; and it will be interesting to 
 inquire into the scope and direction of such instruction. 
 The Royal Commission on Technical Education made 
 the question of technical education for women part of 
 their inquiry, and in nearly every other country they 
 visited found schools established in the large towns for 
 training girls in various industries. In all of them the 
 girls are taught embroidery, plain needlework, and 
 dressmaking. The technical teaching varies in most 
 countries ; but drawing is everywhere taught, and is 
 the basis of instruction. The schools are intended for 
 the daughters of small shopkeepers and of artizans, 
 and in most of them the primary education and the 
 technical instruction are supplemented by instruc- 
 tion in one foreign language. The pupils devote 
 their morning hours to ordinary school subjects, and 
 their afternoons to the learning of a trade. The 
 character of the special teaching depends mainly on 
 the social habits and the resources of a country. 
 While needlework and dressmaking form the principal 
 subjects in all schools, book-keeping, the elements of 
 law, and commercial correspondence, are largely taught 
 in France, where young women are employed as clerks 
 and accountants more numerously than in other 
 countries. In Germany and in Austria, where domestic 
 industries employ women, the instruction is almost 
 entirely in plain sewing, embroidery, dressmaking, 
 
206 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 cooking, house-keeping, and laundry work. In Hol- 
 land, in Belgium, and in Italy, the range of subjects is 
 wider, and embraces lace-making, flower-making, 
 designing, painting on porcelain and glass, telegraphy, 
 and pharmacy. 
 
 In Paris, the Ecole Professionelle Menagere teaches 
 girls on leaving the primary schools some useful trade 
 and household work. For the house-keeping and the 
 professional classes girls must be over 12 and under 
 15, and must hold a certificate of primary instruction. 
 The school is under the direction of a mistress and a 
 staff of teachers for needle-work, lace-making, em- 
 broidery, flower-making, and stay-making, cutting out 
 and making up dresses, cooking, and laundry work ; 
 and when the work is of such a nature as can be used 
 the pupils receive premiums. The next in demand of 
 the trades taught is ordinary dressmaking for the 
 working classes ; and after that come millinery and 
 laundrywork. All the girls take their turn at house- 
 hold work, including cooking. This school, which is 
 being developed by the municipality of Paris, is situ- 
 ated in a quarter inhabited by the working classes, by 
 whom it is appreciated. 
 
 The Elise Lemoinne schools, in Paris, for the pro- 
 fessional instruction of women, are four, and have 
 about 500 pupils. They are managed by a committee, 
 and depend largely on voluntary subscriptions, which 
 are, however, augmented by grants of about ,1,280 
 from the Government and the City of Paris. The 
 annual expenditure amounts to ^"5,000 a year, which is 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 207 
 
 provided for by fancy sales and subscriptions, over and 
 above the Government subsidy. The teaching is in- 
 tended to prepare girls for commercial life, and the 
 course extends over three years. A sound elementary 
 education in the ordinary branches is given, and there 
 are six special classes. A commercial class includes 
 book-keeping, English, industrial drawing, dressmaking, 
 wood-engraving, painting on pottery or on porcelain, 
 and painting on glass. The school fees amount to 12 
 francs a month, and are payable in advance. The 
 schools w r ere founded under the presidency of Madame 
 Elise Lemoinne in 1856, and have been most successful. 
 The Society which now manages them was incorpo- 
 rated in 1870, and is under the control of a com- 
 mittee. The Ecole Commercialle pour les Jeunes Filles 
 is a middle-class girls' school, and has a subvention 
 from the Government. It aims at giving girls a know- 
 ledge of some trade or business and a good general 
 education. 
 
 The Ecole Professionelle Communale des Jeunes 
 Filles, at Rouen, qualifies girls to become wives for 
 men of the working classes. On one floor there is a 
 laundry ; on another dressmaking and embroidery are 
 the subjects. The first year, the pupils learn plain 
 sewing ; the second year, cutting out and making 
 dresses. The school is a day school, and the instruc- 
 tion is gratuitous. The Martinere school, at Lyons, is 
 on the same system ; but it is a superior primary and 
 professional school. The course of study is for three 
 years, and embraces mathematics and the higher 
 
2o8 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 branches of learning, which is obligatory on all 
 pupils. The special instruction is given in three 
 divisions commercial knowledge, industrial draw- 
 ing, dressmaking, and fine needlework; the girls 
 choosing. 
 
 Very successful schools, founded on the model of Dr. 
 Von Steinbeis's Frauenarbeitsschule, at Deutlingen, 
 have sprung up in Germany. In many places, girls of 
 the wealthy classes attend them as finishing schools, at 
 which they may acquire a knowledge of house-keeping 
 and domestic economy. The school at Deutlingen, 
 founded in 1868, was the first of its kind. It oc- 
 cupies a fine building, and has a museum, at the top 
 of the house, illustrating the kinds of work done in 
 the school. Dressmaking is well taught, and many of 
 the girls go to the school for a year to complete their 
 education in housewifery. It serves as a training 
 school for teachers of needlework. Drawing is well 
 taught, and is the foundation of the different kinds 
 of work. Ironing and clear starching, machine sewing, 
 and pleating, also are taught. The students are about 
 300, and the fees are S a year. The Frauenarbeits- 
 schule, at Munich, is founded on the same model ; but 
 the school is not a State school. It is supported by 
 voluntary contributions and a small grant from the 
 town. It is not exclusively an industrial school in 
 which women are trained to earn their living. Many 
 women attend to learn needlework for domestic 
 purposes only, and there is a special department for 
 teaching school-mistresses. The pupils are taught 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 209 
 
 drawing, freehand, linear, and perspective, and de- 
 signing for embroidery. The fees for ordinary pupils 
 are 365. a year, and for mistresses, 725. 
 
 The Commercial and Industrial School for grown-up 
 daughters, in Berlin, is to afford to young women be- 
 longing to the upper and the middle classes such 
 knowledge as shall enable them to become efficient 
 book-keepers, accountants, and correspondents. The 
 course of study, which is of an intellectual kind, com- 
 prises one branch of eminently practical knowledge : 
 that which treats of domestic economy in its smallest 
 detail sustentation, preservation of food, cooking, 
 nursing the sick, sanitary laws, management of servant, 
 and accounts. 
 
 In North Germany, with an agricultural population, 
 there are schools at which farming in all its branches 
 is taught. The oldest agricultural school in Ger- 
 many of which there is any record was founded, 
 about 1722, by King Frederick William I., at Konig- 
 horst, in Brandenburg. That locality was selected 
 because the King had purchased many East Freisland 
 cows, and found, as a tenant, a good maker of butter 
 and cheese in the Dutch fashion. Konighorst was con- 
 verted into a dairy school, to which the leading people 
 in the cattle-breeding parts of the Empire could send 
 farmers' daughters, for whose good conduct they would 
 be responsible, to be taught dairying. The girls 
 worked as ordinary dairy-maids for two years, and 
 before they left were bound to make butter without 
 help. Sometimes the King himself was judge of the 
 
210 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 butter ; and if it passed muster the successful dairy- 
 maid received from the Royal purse 100 marks as a 
 wedding present. The King maintained the school till 
 his death, and the good results of its training were long 
 acknowledged ; but at the beginning of the present 
 century it ceased for want of pupils. However, the 
 Royal Academies of Agriculture all over Germany 
 carry on the work. 
 
 One of the most well-known dairy-schools in Ger- 
 many is at Heinrichsthal, near Radeberg, in Saxony ; 
 another at Gross-Hinstedt, near Hildesheim. In the 
 former, the management of a dairy, book-keeping, the 
 management of cows, fatting calves and pigs, cooking, 
 house-keeping, poultry, and the management of the 
 kitchen garden, are the subjects. The Royal Agri- 
 cultural Society of Hanover gives a subvention on 
 consideration of six pupils being taken for a year, to 
 be taught and boarded and lodged for ^18. 
 
 Among the cottage industries in Germany, some in- 
 struction is given in straw-plaiting. At Schonach, in the 
 Black Forest, straw-plaiting is taught in special schools ; 
 also it is taught at Furtwangen, where schools have 
 been established by the Government to promote the 
 industry. At Lahr, near Freiburg, a trade in small 
 card-board boxes for chemists and confectioners is 
 carried on, and is taught. It is hardly under Govern- 
 ment protection ; but there are specialists in each 
 district or village who impart instruction and hold 
 classes for teaching the different subjects. 
 
 In Austria, the Royal State School for Art Embroi- 
 
V- * D 
 
 f " OK THE 
 
 i TJNIVERSIT' 
 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR 
 
 dery, at Vienna (Fachschule fur Kunststickerei), is a 
 State school for training teachers. There are from 
 seventy to eighty pupils, and the course extends over 
 five years. The education is free, and there are bur- 
 saries which enable the poorer girls to live while 
 learning their trade. All the girls are over fourteen, 
 and must have completed their education at a primary 
 school. They must be able to draw, and have a know- 
 ledge of plain needlework. All the pupils are taught 
 freehand drawing, and the students make designs for 
 needlework, and trace them on the material ; design- 
 ing and needlework are taught. Foreigners pay 2$ 
 a year for the complete course, and students for 
 lectures are taken at 2 IDS. for the half-year. There 
 is a school very much on the same plan at Berlin. 
 
 The schools formed by the Austrian Government for 
 technical instruction may be divided into two classes- 
 those in which a sound theoretical education is im- 
 parted, with a certain period of hours daily in the 
 workshop for practical tasks ; and those where the 
 greater part of the time is spent in the shop, and the 
 theoretical work consists mainly of drawing. At 
 Cortina D'Ampezzo, in the Tyrol, there is a large school 
 for teaching inlaying and intarsia work ; and in the fili- 
 gree school, attached to it, women and girls are taught 
 in great numbers. The school was an interesting in- 
 dication of the desire of the Austrian Government to 
 assist and develop local effort in the matter of workshop 
 instruction. In Belgium there are schools not differing 
 
 much from many of those already described : " Ecoles 
 
 p 2 
 
212 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 professionelles pour les jeunes filles." One is of lower 
 grade than the other. The basis of teaching is drawing, 
 which underlies all the trade work which the pupils are 
 taught. The teaching comprises a general course, 
 obligatory on all, while there are special courses in 
 preparation for trades. The trade course comprises 
 book-keeping, arithmetic applied to commercial occupa- 
 tions, English and German business correspondence, 
 dressmaking, embroidery, and so on. The school is a 
 day school, and the pupils who do not enter with 
 bursaries pay 2 8s. a year, half the cost ; the re- 
 mainder is defrayed by donations, the sale of work 
 done in the school, and the subsidies of the State ; 
 sometimes the subsidies are as much as ; 1,648. 
 One of the principal trades taught is that of flower- 
 making. The work is done in separate divisions, each 
 representing a year's learning. The first year the 
 pupils have to make petals of all kinds ; the second 
 year, buds ; in the third year, complete flowers, for 
 which prizes are awarded. Technical painting, such as 
 painting on china, glass, silk, for decorative purposes, 
 designs for lace, and lace-making to a certain extent, 
 are taught. Most of the lace made in Belgium, how- 
 ever, comes from the convent schools. There are six 
 such schools in Belgium. Those at Antwerp and Liege 
 are the best. 
 
 In the sister country of Holland, at Amsterdam, 
 there is a girls' industrial school (Industrie School voor 
 Vrouwelijke Jeugd), under the direction of a committee. 
 The qualification is the primary-school certificate. The 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 213 
 
 designs of the school, now that it has entered into its 
 new building, are to train teachers for infant schools ; to 
 prepare candidates for the Government examinations in 
 drawing, needlework, and the dispensing of drugs ; and 
 to teach art in its industrial applications, such as leather- 
 work, flower-making, wood-carving, and lace-making. 
 The course extends over three years. The school con- 
 tains nearly 200 pupils, thirty of the first year, fifty-five 
 of the second, and the remainder of the third year ; 
 and the hours of instruction are thirty-four a week. 
 The school expenses amount to about 1,300 a year, 
 part of which is met by the Government subsidy of 
 375, subscriptions, and the fees, which, with the sale 
 of work, produce about ^453 a year. Although Holland 
 may be classed as one of the countries in Europe where 
 agriculture is largely taught and developed among men, 
 there is no technical instruction to women in dairy 
 work. 
 
 In Denmark, ^"11,000 a year is granted by Govern- 
 ment for agricultural education. The system carried 
 out at the two agricultural schools, the Folkeskole and 
 the Landboskole, is unique. The Landboskoles, or 
 agricultural schools, of which there are ten, are worked 
 in conjunction with the Folkehoiskoles, superior elemen- 
 tary schools, of which there are sixty. The Landboskole 
 singled out by the Royal Commission on Technical 
 Education as the best example is the one at Tune. 
 Every large farm in Denmark is in reality a school of 
 dairying for farmers' daughters. As a rule, there are 
 not more than three or four dairy pupils at a time ; but 
 
214 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 the Commissioners specially report on a farm of I/O 
 acres, kept by Mrs. Hannah Neilson, who " has about a 
 dozen farmers' daughters as working pupils, who are 
 boarded and lodged in the house, remaining for various 
 periods, from six weeks to two years. The pupils who 
 remain only a short time pay a considerable amount 
 relatively for their instruction ; but they all work as 
 hard as an ordinary dairy-maid. Most of them are the 
 daughters of peasant farmers, keeping from ten to 
 fifteen cows ; but some have larger farms. One girl, 
 whose father kept forty cows, was about to be married, 
 and under Mrs. Neilson was learning how to turn the 
 dairy of her future home to the best account. Each 
 pupil has five cows allotted to her in rotation ; and the 
 results of the several milkings are carefully noted, the 
 produce of each cow being entered separately, morning 
 and evening, with the name of the milker. Thus Mrs. 
 Neilson has a practical means of knowing whether the 
 pupils can perform satisfactorily one of the most im- 
 portant, as it is one of the most fundamental and most 
 neglected, operations connected with dairy farming." 
 This one fact connected with the teaching of dairying 
 in Denmark illustrates how carefully the system is 
 carried out. 
 
 At Milan, where the only technical instruction to 
 women in Italy is given at the Scoula Professionale 
 Femminihile, the course of instruction is somewhat 
 different. The Government subsidizes it, and the pupils, 
 who are about 1 50, pay a small fee monthly. Dress- 
 making, flower-making, embroidery, china-painting, 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 215 
 
 typography, and machine sewing, are taught ; and the 
 special instruction is in telegraphy, chemistry, and the 
 elements of electricity. The telegraphic systems of 
 Morse and Hughes are taught ; and the pupils, before 
 being employed in the telegraphic departments, are 
 sent to an office for further practice. Drawing also is 
 taught. The instruction is excellent. 
 
 At St. Petersburg, in the girls' department at the 
 Handicraft and Industrial Schools, besides receiving 
 the usual elementary education, the pupils are taught 
 cutting-out, needlework, dressmaking, millinery, house- 
 keeping, and cooking; and the girls of the highest 
 class undertake, in turns, the management of the 
 household. The girls pay ^15 a year for full resi- 
 dence ; semi-boarders, 6 ; and daily scholars, ^"3. 
 
 It will be seen that on the Continent technical edu- 
 cation for women is thoroughly practical. It enables 
 young women to find suitable and remunerative employ- 
 ment, which, if not sufficient to maintain them without 
 their leaving home, enables them to supplement the 
 family income. 
 
 While there are in England many small charitable 
 homes and institutions for training girls and children 
 in industrial work, no definite effort has been made by 
 Government to supplement primary instruction by 
 industrial or technical training. There are, however, 
 several institutions initiated by private enterprise. 
 The People's Palace, in the Mile End Road, and the 
 new Polytechnic, in the South and South-East of 
 London, are the most important. The nightly classes 
 
216 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 for girls and women are largely attended, and the in- 
 struction in the various subjects is appreciated. Needle- 
 work, dressmaking, millinery, and cooking, are taught. 
 The hours are from 7 till 9.30 p.m., and the fees vary 
 from 5 s to 7s. 6d. a quarter. Lectures on housewifery 
 deal with the minutest details; and an elementary class 
 for reading, writing, and arithmetic, is held at the same 
 place and time. Perhaps the most successful attempt on 
 a large scale to combine technical and primary education 
 has been carried out at the Polytechnic, in Regent 
 Street, where, under the guidance and management of 
 Mr. Quintain Hogg, there is a school that has largely 
 influenced the careers of thousands of young men and 
 women. The work has been voluntary, and its results 
 speak more eloquently of the success of the under- 
 taking than any description that could be written. 
 Affiliated to the Polytechnic is the Young Women's 
 Christian Institute, the members of which attend even- 
 ing classes for technical instruction. There is a large 
 day-school for children of the middle classes, at which, 
 besides the usual elements of primary education, in- 
 struction in dressmaking, needlework, cookery, and so 
 on, is given ; while at the evening classes for young 
 women engaged during the day there is instruction 
 in the same subjects, as well as in shorthand, book- 
 keeping, commercial correspondence, and the knowledge 
 necessary for Civil Service women clerks, such as 
 clerks, letter sorters, and telegraph learners. The fees 
 vary from 2s. to 6s. in the simple subjects, and from 8s. 
 to 1 2s. in the more advanced ; and, under the head of 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 217 
 
 housewifery, a certain knowledge of sick-nursing and 
 management of children is imparted. 
 
 In England technical teaching is most important, 
 not only among the working classes but among the well- 
 to-do. Many gentlewomen are poor ; and the boon 
 to them of finding some place where they can be taught 
 how to make their own hats and bonnets, and re-trim 
 and re-arrange their dresses, is great. The allowance 
 of many an unmarried girl in society is miserably 
 inadequate. Unless it is supplemented by presents, 
 she has a perpetual struggle to make both ends meet. 
 The guinea paid for the millinery she learns is more 
 than replaced by the skill she acquires in making up 
 her own things. Then, this teaching, applied to the 
 more serious difficulties that so often beset the young 
 and ignorant wife at the beginning of her married 
 life, would save many a home from extravagance and 
 unhappiness. The Birmingham Ladies' Association 
 for Useful Work has brought some knowledge into 
 the lives of women of the working classes in that 
 town by means of lectures ; but, whilst every influence 
 that can be used to improve their homes is desirable, 
 that which comes when habits and conditions of life 
 have become confirmed cannot have the same beneficial 
 effect. 
 
 The only part of the .United Kingdom where any 
 State recognition or assistance is given to technical 
 education, other than the grants made for needlework 
 in schools, is Ireland, where there have been attempts 
 to stimulate local industries. The first was in 1838, 
 
218 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 when the Commissioners of the National Education 
 Board recognised the utility of giving the people 
 instruction in agriculture. Their first effort was the 
 establishment of a school at Glasnevin, near Dublin, 
 where they took a farm and pupils. The Devon Com- 
 missioners in 1843 warmly encouraged the idea, and it 
 was thoroughly supported by public opinion every- 
 where. As early, however, as 1848, the House of 
 Commons began to cavil at the expenditure, and the 
 Select Committee on Miscellaneous Expenditure ex- 
 pressed grave doubts as to the wisdom of grafting 
 agricultural on primary education. The Commissioners 
 strongly urged the Government to continue the effort. 
 They expected great advantages from the system of 
 agricultural instruction which they had conceived for the 
 country ; in which opinion they were warmly seconded 
 by Lord Clarendon, the Lord Lieutenant. The famine 
 in Ireland for some years paralyzed all efforts to improve 
 the agricultural condition of the country. The schools 
 flourished, however, in spite of it ; but public opinion 
 in Parliament was changing, and the Commission on 
 Primary Education, under Lord Powis, recommended 
 that the number of agricultural schools should be 
 reduced. Steps were accordingly taken to let the 
 farms ; which was done with all, excepting the Albert 
 Institution at Glasnevin and the Munster Farm at Cork. 
 The Cork case is very interesting. While the Com- 
 missioners were actually engaged in getting rid of it, a 
 movement to revive the butter trade and make the 
 Munster Farm the means of resuscitating it was set on 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 219 
 
 foot in Cork. A strong representation to the Treasury, 
 asking them to consider their decision as to closing the 
 Munster School, was made by the Commissioners, and 
 the appeal gained the sanction of the Treasury. The 
 Local Committee, in augmentation of the Treasury 
 grant, subscribed in the first year ^"526; and the ex- 
 periment has been thoroughly successful. 
 
 The young women trained in the dairy school are 
 chiefly daughters of Munster farmers. They pay 
 for six weeks' training only $ ; but at the annual 
 examinations scholarships or free places are awarded 
 to the three best competitors. Mr. Forest, the head 
 inspector for the butter market, reported improvement 
 in the quality of the butter, and attributed it entirely to 
 the training at school. The ladies' committee give great 
 assistance in superintending the classes for cooking and 
 needlework, and at the butter-making contest in 
 Manchester one of the pupils of the school obtained 
 first prize. 
 
 In 1883 the Government made a grant of ^"2,000 to the 
 school, to be expended in agricultural education. Mr. 
 Carroll, the inspector, reports that they "are constantly 
 receiving letters from noblemen, gentlemen, and exten- 
 sive farmers, asking us to send them dairy-maids who 
 have been instructed in their school, thus opening up 
 a livelihood to a large cla,ss of girls." 
 
 What has been done in England to aid the industrial 
 education of women is very small when compared with 
 what is done abroad ; and, contrasted with the advan- 
 tages following from technical instruction in America, it 
 
220 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 is not worth considering. The necessity for such training 
 is becoming every day more apparent ; and it is a pity 
 that some larger organization, into which the smaller 
 ones might be merged, so as to make the undertaking 
 assume more of a national character, is not created. 
 It is in a National Technical Training College, com- 
 bining the teaching of trade with that of agricultural 
 knowledge, that the experiment should be tried. For 
 that purpose a large building near London, where in- 
 struction in farming and gardening could be imparted, 
 would be indispensable. 
 
 Many people have advocated turning the Alexandra 
 Palace, at Muswell Hill, into such a school. It has 
 never paid, nor is there much probability of its ever 
 being successful, as a place of amusement ; and for the 
 kind of instruction given at a training college it pos- 
 sesses many qualifications. It has sufficient land adjoin- 
 ing to fulfil the agricultural requirements of such a 
 scheme ; it is near enough London to enable women 
 who desire to take up certain subjects only to go as day 
 pupils, and it is large enough to provide accommodation 
 for many classes. Part of the building might be used 
 as a boarding-house for women who wished to remain 
 for two or three years' training in domestic, agricul- 
 tural, and horticultural, matters. One part of the scheme 
 deserves special mention the proposal that Boards of 
 Guardians should have power, after girls have passed 
 the fourth standard, or attained the age of twelve or 
 thirteen, to transfer them to the training college, and 
 thus finish their education by a course of technical in- 
 
 
TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 221 
 
 struction. It is technical knowledge in daily life that 
 women require. They learn certain subjects more or 
 less thoroughly in classes ; but they get no general 
 knowledge of the details of the work they have to 
 undertake. That can only be acquired by daily ex- 
 perience. To girls from parish or pauper schools 
 such a training would be invaluable. No one is 
 less fitted to be a good servant, or a useful wife, 
 than a girl brought up at a workhouse school, where 
 all individuality is crushed out, and every child is 
 treated, trained, and turned out, alike, with utter 
 disregard of any peculiarity of temper, or of char- 
 acter, or of capacity. 
 
 Women of the better classes might be received as 
 boarders, taking up what subjects they desired ; and 
 by having the two classes of women together in the 
 same building the lower class of girls could learn the 
 duties of domestic servants, undertaking the work of 
 the college, and acting as servants to the better-class 
 boarders, who would pay in proportion a much larger 
 fee for instruction. The scheme is large. It would 
 require assistance other than the income which the 
 college might earn. Properly managed, however, it 
 should succeed. A large dairy school might be added, 
 for the land and grounds are the best dairy land in 
 England ; also horticulture, floriculture, natural his- 
 tory (entomology especially with reference to those two 
 subjects), drawing and designing, mechanical subjects, 
 laundry work on a large scale, carpentering, house 
 painting, rearing poultry, management of pigs in 
 
222 TECHNICAL EDUCATION FOR WOMEN. 
 
 short, all the subjects pertaining to domestic and farm 
 life might be studied practically. The advantage of a 
 national training college would be assured. The teach- 
 ing imparted would be thorough and practical, and the 
 strictest tests would be applied. At present much of 
 the knowledge women possess on those subjects is 
 superficial, as they are too often satisfied with elemen- 
 tary knowledge, and think when that is attained that 
 they are qualified to command the highest salaries. 
 Were such a national school formed, the certificate of 
 the college would be a guarantee of the competence of 
 its holder to be a teacher. Women's work must be con- 
 sidered when we are dealing with the industrial educa- 
 tion of the country. It is by industrial rather than by 
 intellectual employment that the majority of women in 
 England must in future earn their living. 
 
223 
 
 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 In his evidence before the Royal Commission on the 
 housing of the poor, Lord Shaftesbury expressed the 
 opinion that, howsoever much their condition had im- 
 proved in other respects, " over-crowding had become 
 more serious than it ever was." That statement was 
 amply borne out in evidence by others competent to 
 speak. The state of affairs could not be otherwise. In 
 London, where rent is much higher that in the pro- 
 vinces, the relation of wages to rent is very much out 
 of proportion. The poor must have a roof over their 
 heads, and that roof must be paid for. The result is 
 that in every other necessary of life they stint them- 
 selves in order to pay the rent. In most of the wretched 
 and horrible dwellings, where the squalor is indescri- 
 bable, the rent-book is well paid up. The bareness of 
 the room, the famished faces of the people, and their 
 scanty clothing, are evidence that, although most of 
 their clothes are at the pawn-shop, and they have no 
 regular food, they have never escaped from the phantom 
 of the rent-collector. Bad as was the condition of many 
 
224 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 of the houses inhabited by the poorer classes in Lon- 
 don, a state of things in many cases no better still 
 exists. Public attention is always being directed to 
 certain localities in the East of London, and careful 
 inquiry has disclosed evils which are a disgrace to 
 civilization. The employment afforded by the docks 
 and the various manufactories of the East of London 
 has drawn thither a large and wretchedly poor class ; 
 and over-population, which has brought down wages, 
 has sent up rents. 
 
 The earnings of many of the poor are, at the best, 
 starvation wages. The people are surrounded by in- 
 fluences under which the moral sense is blunted. They 
 become listless, despairing, reckless, debilitated phy- 
 sically, and ruined morally. As a nation we have 
 grievously sinned in our duty to those who are too busy, 
 too down-trodden, to resist, and even ignorant of the 
 laws designed for their protection. Nothing has been 
 more curious, in proceedings before the magistrates to 
 enforce the closing of dwellings, than to find the com- 
 plete ignorance of the poor as to the protection which 
 the law affords them. It is with great difficulty they 
 are persuaded that if they put the law in force 
 it could not be used against themselves, and that there 
 was no danger of their landlords punishing them for 
 proclaiming the unsanitary state of the houses in which 
 they were forced to live. After one or two cases had 
 been heard, and dealt with, the difficulties experienced 
 in getting the tenants to move disappeared to some 
 extent. It was not so much from fear of the conse- 
 

 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 225 
 
 quences to themselves, as from the impossibility 
 of sparing the time which was necessary to put 
 the law into force, that they were indifferent. They 
 could not afford the time. Passing hours waiting at 
 a police-court meant the loss of money to them, and 
 very often they had difficulties put in their way by 
 officials. Until quite recently it was always under- 
 stood that only the tenants themselves could put the 
 law in action. As a matter of fact, it is open to any- 
 one to move, and this can be done without waiting for 
 the sanction of the local authority. The buildings 
 closed by a magistrate's order in Ann's Court and 
 Newling Street, Bethnal Green, were condemned on 
 the application of an outsider ; and a district visitor, or 
 any one interested in the housing of the poor, can, by 
 bringing about the infliction of fines, or (in very bad 
 cases) by closing the premises altogether, put an end to 
 the evil of unwholesome or badly-constructed dwell- 
 ings. 
 
 The regions of overcrowding and insanitary dwell- 
 ings are numerous ; but the district embracing Shore- 
 ditch, Bethnal Green, all Whitechapel, St. George's in 
 the East, Shadwell, and Ratcliff, with Mile End, is the 
 worst. Space and air are worth any money, and the 
 only open spaces are old burial grounds or back-yards. 
 Every other inch is covered by miserable houses, except 
 where huge warehouses rear their heads, shutting out 
 both air and light. Limehouse and Poplar are in the 
 same condition. It is easy to trace the process by 
 which the overcrowding has been brought about. The 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 original buildings are still standing, and in the gar- 
 dens behind them small cottages were built. Houses 
 of two or three rooms are found, some set back to back, 
 or built against a wall, with a narrow footway and a 
 path running down the middle. Small courts which 
 once were open spaces have been built over ; and an 
 arched doorway, taken out of one of the rooms of the 
 house facing the street, makes the entrance. 
 
 Another common way of filling up is the building of 
 workshops, which do not need any approach, or are 
 let with the houses facing the street. The workshops 
 do not necessarily involve more overcrowding ; but in 
 every case they obstruct light and air. Bad as the build- 
 ing of small cottage property or small workshops may 
 be, the solid backward growth of the buildings which 
 face the streets, for whatever purpose, whether as 
 common lodging-houses or as tenements, is worse ; 
 for in many parts this ends in houses reaching back to 
 houses, and forming means of communication through 
 and through. Some houses recently closed in Ann's 
 Place, Bethnal Green, were a good example of what 
 dwellings built on a small open space become. The court 
 had evidently not long ago been a small garden, round 
 which on every side high dwellings had arisen ; and at 
 last, when every possible means of procuring air had 
 been closed, the small tenements designated by the 
 name of " model "were erected. On three sides the 
 court was overshadowed by high houses ; and on one 
 side there was a large factory with a high wall, several 
 feet above the tops of the houses in the court, which 
 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 227 
 
 faced the back wall of the houses on that side. There 
 was no air ; the floors were full of rat holes ; the walls 
 were running down with damp ; the sanitary arrange- 
 ments were out of order ; there was no regular supply 
 of water in the closets. In this model dwelling there 
 were twenty houses containing about thirty families, 
 paying on an average four shillings a week per room. 
 
 The history of Ann's Place is a good example of how 
 such property continues to be tolerated. The houses 
 in question belonged to a building company, and were 
 taken by them in discharge of a bad debt. They 
 had been built about forty years. A few years ago 
 their condition was brought to the attention of the 
 Vestry, which ordered them to be closed. The owners, 
 on appear! to the justices, had the order rescinded, on 
 condition that a certain amount of money should be 
 spent on the property. The medical officer of the 
 parish of Shoreditch attended in court, and stated that 
 no amount of money would make the dwellings fit for 
 human habitation. The Vestry had during the Spring 
 decided to close them ; but their intention was frus- 
 trated by persons whom the owners and the Vestry 
 considered to be interfering outside their province. 
 
 In Newling Street, Bethnal Green, where many 
 houses were closed under a magistrate's order, the state 
 of the dwellings was disgraceful beyond words. The 
 houses, which were low, consisted of two rooms, one 
 above another ; and in the top room the flooring was 
 so rotten as to be unsafe. The light shone between the 
 boards which formed the back wall of the kitchen ; 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 there was no flooring to any room ; and drainage there 
 was none. At the back of the houses was a long 
 narrow strip of ground on which were still standing 
 the ruins of about eight closets ; close by were the 
 pumps from which the drinking and washing water 
 (when there was any supply) was procured by the in- 
 habitants. The spectacle of that backyard was one never 
 to be forgotten. The dirt and dilapidation, the smell 
 and the squalor, were indescribable ; and the ruined 
 closets without doors, many without walls, proclaimed 
 the utter absence of any sense of decency or of cleanli- 
 ness. It turned out on enquiry that the agent of the 
 owner was the son of a vestryman. Notices to quit 
 had been served on the tenants ; but they were informal, 
 having no legal attestation ; and the tenants were told 
 that if they paid their arrears they might burn the 
 notices. The agent of the former owner, in spite of 
 having given notice to quit to all on the property, owing 
 to its having passed into other hands, continued to 
 allow the tenants to remain, and quietly collected the 
 rents ; and it was only when the application for closing 
 the premises came up before the magistrate that those 
 facts came out. The agent had to endure a good deal 
 of abuse and rough usage from the poor tenants who 
 crowded the court to hear the decision, and the police 
 had to interfere in order to see him safely away so 
 violent were their demands to have the money they 
 had paid him refunded. 
 
 One of the troubles with which the poor have to 
 contend in regard to their dwellings, where they wish 
 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 229 
 
 to enforce sanitary necessities, is the fact, not generally 
 known, that many of them have the greatest difficulty 
 in ascertaining who their landlords really are. Their 
 rent-books contain only the names of the tenants, the 
 amounts and the dates of payments, and the initials of 
 the rent-collector. They can, therefore, only ascertain 
 by chance to whom their houses belong. The collectors 
 are often merely agents' clerks. Sometimes the persons 
 for whom the collectors act are only farmers of the 
 rents ; and they not only bully the tenants, but often 
 take the law into their own hands, and turn the people 
 into the streets without legal warrant of any kind. It 
 should be made imperative that every rent-book con- 
 tained the full name and address of the owner of the 
 property. 
 
 The East and South of London undoubtedly contain 
 the largest number of unsanitary dwellings. The people 
 are poorer ; their existence is a greater struggle ; they 
 are ignorant of any rights they possess ; and they have 
 not time to inquire into their position. Southwark, 
 Bermondsey, Hackney, Clerkenwell, and Haggerston, 
 all share the same unenviable conditions ; but on the 
 north side of the river the worst may certainly, outside 
 the distinctly East-end part of London, be found in 
 Clerkenwell, including Holborn and Hoxton. Some of 
 the worst dwellings in London are to be found in Hoxton 
 Market. Rooms of about I oft. square fetch 2s. 6d. 
 or 33. a week. The extreme examples, however, are 
 externally better-class houses. In Clerkenwell and 
 in Holborn, where the houses are larger and apparently 
 
230 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 better-built, careful inspection proves that nothing in 
 the worst slum of Bethnal Green or of Whitechapel 
 approaches the dirt, bad drainage, and overcrowd- 
 ing, that prevailed unsuspected and unheeded. Only 
 since the question of the housing of the poor has be- 
 come a burning one have some houses in St. Luke's 
 parish been condemned as unfit for human habitation. 
 At the back of Lever Street, off the City Road, there 
 have, for many years, been small courts, passages, and 
 buildings of various kinds, with workshops and manu- 
 factories that have grown up as just described. Slowly 
 the houses have been pulled down, as their rickety con- 
 dition made the thought of repairs hopeless. Some of 
 them were fever dens, and most of them the homes of 
 thieves and women of low character ; and now only a 
 few are left, which are being emptied as the people 
 who live in them find better lodgings. Pound's Passage, 
 one of the places I refer to, where for some years I was 
 a visitor, was one of the worst. The passage was little 
 over 3ft. wide, and had no outlet at one end. The 
 houses were two storeys high ; and on the opposite wall 
 rose the back of a workshop, which was higher than 
 the houses, and shut out all light and air. A poor 
 cripple and his wife and children lived in one house ; 
 and, as he could not go to the higher rooms, he was 
 forced to live in the kitchen. His room was dark. 
 What light he got was reflected from the wall opposite, 
 which was white- washed from time to time as the land- 
 lord saw fit. The houses were built up at the back, 
 and there was no ventilation. Day after day, when 
 
 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 231 
 
 he was unable to be wheeled to the corner of the 
 street, he sat at his window vainly trying to do a little 
 work by the miserable light that reached him, at last 
 hopelessly giving it up; and for these miserable rooms 
 he paid 5s. a week. The children in the court were 
 thin, rickety, always ailing, from the want of air and 
 light ; and the sanitary arrangements were elementary. 
 In Clerkenwell, the houses about Leather Lane and 
 Hatton Garden are indescribably wretched. One house 
 in Greville Street, Leather Lane, of twelve rooms, con- 
 tains'as many families. The cellar there was a fair speci- 
 men of houses in the locality. The moment the door was 
 opened the effluvia from the bad drainage was sicken- 
 ing ; and the dark staircase to the wretched kitchen, 
 with its walls running down with damp and its floor 
 full of rat holes, was not one bit more dilapidated than 
 anything else in the wretched dwelling. The cellar 
 window was four inches below the level of the street. 
 The old couple who lived there paid 45. 6d. a week. 
 Hardly anywhere is there such dirt and misery as among 
 the " Italian community " of London, in Hatton Garden. 
 The local authorities cannot be ignorant of the fact, 
 which is well-known to the police, that in these houses 
 men, women, children, and monkeys, all herd and sleep 
 together in the same room. They have no beds ; and 
 so they sleep on the floor, never taking off their clothes. 
 From those dens of disease come all the vendors of 
 cream ices that we see in the streets, as well as those 
 who sell sweetstuffs, gingerbread, and other food. All 
 the things used in their business milk, eggs, water, 
 
232 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 spices are kept in these fetid rooms, and become 
 impregnated with the germs of disease. 
 
 In Marylebone, the Lisson Grove district was at one 
 time as bad as any East-end slum ; and in the North, to- 
 wards Highgate and CamdenTown, there are streets con- 
 taining many unsanitary dwellings ; while in St. Pancras 
 we have streets and courts which bear comparison with 
 the worst parts of Bethnal Green and Whitechapel. 
 Their proximity to the better part of London is slowly 
 improving them ; and London is not so much built out 
 on that side, nor is there any barrier country wards such 
 as the river presents eastwards. The want of the 
 East-end has aroused the interest of a very large and 
 charitable body to such an extent, it is a common say- 
 ing that the East-end does not need help so much as many 
 parts nearer home ; but let people judge for themselves. 
 Let them go some day, starting from Bishopsgate Street, 
 and, working their way towards Commercial Street, 
 Whitechapel, see whether in their wildest dreams 
 they have imagined such poverty and wretchedness 
 possible. Taking Great Nichol Street as a specimen 
 of the typical East-end home, let them go into one 
 house after another. They will find that in the eight 
 rooms of each house there are eight families, that the 
 average rent of a room is 35. 2d. a week, and that for 
 this rent, people live in a room in the garrets, 9 feet 
 by 7 feet with a 7~feet-6-inch ceiling. In front 
 rooms the space is 1 1 feet by 8 feet, with a /- 
 feet-6-inch ceiling ; the back rooms are mere slips of 
 rooms about 8 feet long and about 6 feet wide ; and the 
 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 233 
 
 rent for these is 2s. 6d. a week. If they were water- 
 tight and warm, the people would not complain ; but in 
 nearly all the top rooms the rain comes through the 
 roof, wetting and ruining their poor clothes and bed- 
 ding. New Nichol Street, Half Nichol Street, Gossett 
 Street, Castle Street, Chambord Street, Mead Street, 
 Turville Street and Buildings, Virginia Row, and so 
 on, are in precisely the same condition. The misery 
 of the dwellings is in glaring contrast to the rents, 
 and there is nothing but a Board School or a Church 
 to vary the monotony of the dilapidated houses 
 and streets. Whitechapel and Stepney are in much 
 the same plight. Farther, towards Poplar and East 
 India Road, the same evidence of poverty and neglect 
 meets the eye. The only remedy seems a clean sweep 
 of the whole place. In some parts there are a few 
 evidences that the local authorities, influenced by the 
 Press, are urging landlords to do something towards 
 improving the condition of their slum properties, and 
 bricklayer and whitewasher have been set to work to 
 put a better face on things ; but the improvement is 
 only partial and temporary. An internal inspection 
 would soon prove that the condition of the houses is as 
 unsanitary and bad as it was before any attempt was 
 made to clean them. Not one of them provides the 
 amount of air and space which should be insisted on ; 
 nor do they possess any of the conveniences necessary 
 to ensure health and cleanliness. 
 
 The buildings hitherto erected for the working 
 classes in London have not benefited those of whom 
 
234 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 we are speaking, except in so far as they have relieved 
 the pressure by providing superior dwellings for the 
 class of artizans earning from 255. to 305. a week. 
 Indeed, in some ways they have tended to aggravate 
 the evil condition of the houses of the poorest. When 
 bad houses are pulled down to be supplemented by 
 industrial dwellings, the tendency is for the people to 
 crowd into the small and wretched streets in the imme- 
 diate vicinity, and remain there instead of occupying 
 the new tenements, which, as soon as built, are let to 
 a class better than those who were turned out, people 
 who can afford to pay the rent, and to take more rooms 
 to house their family. Some dwellings make provision 
 for costermongers, and find standing room for barrows 
 and carts ; but for a long time it was impossible for a 
 costermonger to live in an industrial dwelling, because 
 there was no provision of this kind, while in his former 
 house, if he was the fortunate possessor of a donkey, 
 there was no one to prevent the donkey from sharing the 
 back kitchen with the family. Sir Curtis Lampson 
 gave corroborative evidence on this point before Sir 
 Richard Cross's Committee in iSSi. 
 
 The limit of wages of the Peabody tenants, from 305. 
 downwards, seems to meet the most pressing cases, 
 especially when we look to the earnings of the most 
 considerable part of the tenants. Nevertheless, it is 
 undeniable that the buildings do not benefit the very 
 poorest class. The lowest rent for which a room is 
 let is 2s. id. a week. It is, therefore, evident that 
 people who earn only I2s. or 135. a week cannot 
 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 235 
 
 afford more than one room at this rent : and over- 
 crowding is not allowed in the Peabody Buildings. 
 The same objections apply to the various industrial 
 dwellings all over London. We have to face the fact 
 that, unless we shut our eyes to overcrowding, no 
 amount of building at such a cost as that hitherto taken 
 as the requisite standard can provide dwellings for the 
 very poor. 
 
 There is no greater hardship attendant on the 
 question of dwellings than that which arises when any 
 houses are condemned to be closed and pulled down. 
 The theory is that the inhabitants are always allowed 
 a certain period of time within which to find fresh 
 rooms ; but that is not a fact. They are generally 
 driven from rooms that are unwholesome to others quite 
 as bad. The pressure of the overcrowded masses of 
 the population in some parts of London might be re- 
 lieved if it were possible to distribute them, for there 
 are large areas of uninhabited houses in districts which 
 would be suitable ; but the fact that the largest pro- 
 portion of those who live in the congested districts are 
 obliged to live close to their work, no matter under 
 what conditions, prevents such a remedy, and where 
 earnings are so low the price of the railway fare is 
 an insurmountable barrier to moving farther away. 
 The centre of London must always be crowded, because 
 from it the working classes can always command the 
 labour-markets of the Metropolis. The dock labourers, 
 the bricklayers' labourers (who are obliged to be at 
 some spot where work is to be had at 6 A.M.), the 
 
236 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 women who take their work home, and the girls who work 
 in -factories, and must be at the factory daily, whether 
 there is work or not, must be within calling distance 
 if they are to have a chance of employment. The un- 
 certainty of employment and its precarious nature 
 add much to the pressure of crowded centres. If 
 work were constant, the poor might pick and choose 
 their locality and their homes ; but as it is they 
 have no choice, and experience has taught many who 
 have tried the experiment, and have gone to live away 
 from their work, for the sake of lower rent and less 
 crowding, that flitting does not answer. 
 
 What effect the wholesale closing of houses may have 
 on the landlord in the East-end, in the direction of making 
 him realise that unless his property is put into habitable 
 condition he will be unable to let it, one can hardly say ; 
 but the experience of St. Luke's does not encourage us 
 to believe that the tenants will benefit much. In that 
 district as the houses have been pulled down, entirely 
 in the interest of their owners, large warehouses and 
 factories have arisen in their place, forcing the poor to 
 go farther northward, to districts already overcrowded ; 
 in St. Luke's, as the rookeries have been destroyed, no 
 kind of habitation for the poor has been substituted ; 
 and the overcrowding and the squalor of Hoxton 
 are the direct result of the demolitions on the other side 
 of the City Road. 
 
 It is evident that the rent which the poor can afford 
 is much less than any which is now asked. What 
 they could pay is is. 6d. a week per room, or (to put it 
 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 237 
 
 in their own words) " a room and a place for washing 
 at is. 6d. a week." Hitherto no attempt has been made 
 to improve the condition of those whose weekly earn- 
 ings are never much more than 143. The cost of site 
 and building being so large, the problem seemed in- 
 soluble. The money given by Lord Iveagh, however, 
 will enable the trustees to prove (what has long been 
 maintained by those experienced in such matters) that 
 it is possible to provide accommodation at weekly 
 rentals of is. 6d. and 2s. for each room. There are 
 tens of thousands of poor men whose wages do not 
 admit of their paying more ; yet now they pay from 
 2s. 6d. to 45. a week for rooms inferior in every 
 respect to those which they can get under the Guinness 
 Trust. It will require careful management and ex- 
 perience to work the scheme ; but, if the trustees can 
 secure sites at reasonable prices, the rooms can be let 
 at such a rental, and return enough to pay 3^- per cent., 
 in addition to the cost of maintenance. If possible, 
 each set should consist of two rooms and a small 
 scullery, so as to avoid the necessity of eating, working, 
 and sleeping, in the same apartment, which is conducive 
 neither to health nor to morality. If financial consider- 
 ations allowed, the houses should not be over four 
 stories high, for dwellings of higher elevation interfere 
 with the free course of air and crowd too many within 
 a limited area. There should not be more than two 
 families, or, at the most, three, on the same landing. 
 This could be arranged by having stairways at the front 
 and at the back of the house, the same floor being 
 
238 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 reached from both sides. The closets should be out- 
 side the main building, in a tall shaft, access to each 
 being by the respective landings. A corresponding 
 shaft on the other side should serve as a dust-shoot, 
 having doors on each landing. By this means no 
 smells could proceed from the drains. There should 
 be a copper, or washing place, on each landing, or on 
 the roof, which should be flat, so as to serve for a 
 drying-ground ; and hot water should be laid on, which 
 could be done at a small cost, and would insure that 
 the tenants did their washing in the proper place. The 
 chimneys should be in the centre, and the shafts from 
 the closets should overtop everything. The basement 
 should be asphalted and laid out in divisions for the 
 use of any tenant with his barrow or any part of his 
 stock-in-trade. The internal fittings should be of the 
 plainest description, and glazed tiles as dados for stairs 
 and rooms would be clean and indestructible. This is 
 only an idea of what the buildings might be to suit the 
 class which, having regard to the exigencies of their 
 tenants, the Guinness Trust endeavours to assist. 
 Without carrying out the highest ideal of what 
 scientific architects and experts declare necessary, this 
 plan would provide the poor with wholesome dwellings 
 at a cost they could afford to pay. Care in selecting 
 the sites and an honest architect are the two essentials 
 of success. The experience of the School Board 
 buildings shows that a reputation does not always 
 ensure good or honest workmanship. A reputation 
 is of no value in comparison with the certainty that 
 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 239 
 
 the people to whom the work is intrusted are honest 
 and will provide good workmanship. 
 
 What strikes the impartial observer of this question 
 is that, whilst on every hand the magnitude of the evil 
 and the sufferings of the poor are admitted, and legis- 
 lation to meet every point has from time to time been 
 provided, there is an apathy on the part of the 
 authorities out of which public opinion has not yet 
 roused them. There has been a long series of Acts 
 dealing with the housing of the poor ; yet their con- 
 dition becomes worse yearly. Mr. Torrens's Act, 
 Lord Cross's, and Lord Shaftesbury's, are evidence of 
 what has been intended ; but the result is small. Where 
 successful efforts have been made, they have been en- 
 tirely the work of private persons ; and the feeling has 
 become general that, local authorities having always 
 shown indifference, all efforts in this direction should 
 be made by private benevolence, because the local 
 authorities, with such powers as they possessed, 
 could gradually, with no great cost, have transformed 
 London so that all the unsanitary dwellings would 
 have disappeared. The Local Government Board have 
 laid down elaborate rules as to the amount of air and 
 space necessary for each person. Only fifteen London 
 parishes have adopted them ; and St. Mary's, Islington, 
 has restricted them to the minimum possibility. There 
 have been too many Acts dealing with the question in 
 some respects. The vestries in many cases tried 
 to lay the responsibility of improvement on the Metro- 
 politan Board of Works ; the Board, in its turn, 
 
2 4 o THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 referred the matter to the Vestry ; the poor have been 
 shuttlecocked between the two authorities, and have 
 suffered. The County Council presents the possibi- 
 lity of having a more concentrated authority. In its 
 hands the great and hitherto only practical measure, 
 the Shaftesbury Acts, should be brought into operation. 
 The Acts have never been tried outside Liverpool, but 
 the powers which they confer are sufficient ; the Council 
 being empowered at any meeting to pass a resolu- 
 tion adopting the Acts and have them applied through 
 the Home Secretary, they can be carried out economi- 
 cally and expeditiously. The dividends paid by existing 
 industrial dwelling companies will reassure the rate- 
 payers that the scheme will not lay fresh burdens on 
 them, and if the County Council decides to take up the 
 work of housing the poor it can give cheaper and 
 better houses than any other corporation. In the first 
 place, it can borrow unlimited sums of money at 3 
 per cent. ; and it would be indifferent as to profit. 
 This means substantially that the capital sum needed 
 to construct the dwellings would be less than for similar 
 buildings erected by ordinary enterprise ; and, the 
 houses not being built for a dividend, the rents might 
 be proportionately lower. The gravity of the question 
 is becoming a national conviction. 
 
 There is one most important point which affects the 
 welfare of the poor in regard to their homes, one to 
 which sufficient importance is not attached ; and that is 
 the matter of inspection. There should not be a badly- 
 drained, badly-ventilated, house in London, if the 
 
THE HOMES OF 'THE POOR. 241 
 
 system of inspection laid down by law were enforced ; 
 but the law is a dead letter. In no respect have the 
 local authorities failed so grievously as in this. It is 
 not going beyond the truth to say that the failure 
 is in great measure due to the fact that local authorities 
 are composed of local people, and local people often own 
 unsanitary dwellings, or are relations of those who do. 
 There are many cases where the owner of unsanitary 
 dwellings was a vestry-man, and the sanitary inspector 
 his brother-in-law, and no representations made on the 
 subject had any effect. The sanitary inspector be- 
 longs to the people himself, with no elevated tastes 
 or ideas ; and he becomes habituated to the scenes 
 of dirt and squalor around him, and views it all as a 
 matter of course. There is a very good story which 
 shows how such people regard the condition of 
 the poor as chronic. During the investigation in 
 various parts of London at the time of the sitting of 
 the Commission on the Housing of the Poor, four of 
 the commissioners, in company with the sanitary in- 
 spector, visited one of the most degraded courts in 
 London. The members of the Commission included 
 one or two illustrious persons whose identity was con- 
 cealed from their cicerone. On entering a court where 
 a terrible picture of poverty and squalor met their eyes, 
 the inspector turned to the most illustrious of the party, 
 and, slapping him on the shoulder, exclaimed, " What 
 do you say to that, old cock ? " the only feeling in his 
 mind being that he was showman of an exhibition, by 
 which he earned his living. It is obvious that men 
 
242 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 appointed under those conditions cannot afford to be 
 honest, or to take the side of the poor, when their 
 doing so entails the displeasure of the body to which 
 they owe their appointments. There are some sanitary 
 inspectors who would willingly use the powers extended 
 to them, and come forward in the interest of the poor ; 
 but the public opinion of the body they serve is against 
 them, and they dare not speak out. Happily, the 
 appointment of the medical officers of health in the 
 London district is more independent ; and the regula- 
 tions passed by Mr. Ritchie are a step towards what 
 every one who cares for the poor must desire to see 
 carried out in other departments. The regulations by 
 which the medical officer of health is partly the ser- 
 vant of the Local Government Board, and only to be dis- 
 missed with its consent, is the greatest boon to the poor. 
 The same regulations should be applied to surveyors 
 and inspectors of nuisances. Until we have all such 
 officers independent of the local authorities, the condi- 
 tion of things will not improve. There can be no 
 guarantee, with the claims of friends and relations, and 
 the inherent love of jobbery that characterises the 
 traditions of Bumbledom, that the men appointed to fill 
 those posts are capable and honest. It is difficult to 
 over-estimate the power for good which such a change 
 would put into the hands of the clergy and district 
 visitors, who are at present stopped by the hopelessness 
 of appealing to the authorities through their inspector ; 
 and the men appointed by the Local Government Board 
 would be of a better class, as has always been the 
 
THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 243 
 
 case when patronage has been removed from the local 
 authority. 
 
 If the County Council would enforce the Shaftesbury 
 Acts, and the Local Government Board would make the 
 positions of medical officers, of surveyors, and of inspec- 
 tors, alike, the change that would come over London in 
 a few years would be very great. That change can 
 be brought about only by more interference with and 
 supervision over local bodies by the Local Government 
 Board ; and in the interests of the poor, the most 
 helpless portion of the community, there should be no 
 delay. 
 
 Work among the poor impresses one strongly with 
 a deep sense of their wrongs, and of their inability 
 to help themselves. There are thousands who 
 pity and help them ; but how many thousands more 
 who only blame them for the wretchedness of their 
 lives, and lay the whole responsibility of their troubles 
 on their weaknesses and improvidence ! Such criti- 
 cisms make one burn with indignation. There is no 
 patience, no heroism, no self-sacrifice, so sublime as 
 that which meets one every day among the poor. To 
 say that they are indifferent only because they are 
 ignorant is absolutely untrue. Sorrow and joy are 
 common to all classes. Hunger, pain, thirst, and cold, 
 are sensations we all undergo ; and the love of husband 
 and children is as deep among the poor as in the hearts 
 of the greatest in the land. The poor know their woes, 
 and they think that there is nothing to be done ; they 
 have become accustomed to be hungry and cold, believing 
 
244 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 that it is their lot, and that they must bear it. It is 
 a sense of that, and not indifference, which makes 
 them patient with a patience beyond all praise, before 
 which one stands ashamed. 
 
 We cannot do much to ameliorate their lot in the 
 matter of finding them work and wages ; but we can 
 help them to rise out of the conditions of life which 
 breed despair. It is easy to talk of intemperance and 
 immorality : it is forgotten that the conditions of 
 their life offer them nothing else. If a man and his 
 family live in a room in which we would not kennel 
 our dogs, need we wonder that the man seeks warmth 
 and light at the public-house ? If he and his wife, and 
 grown-up daughters and sons, are forced to sleep, eat, 
 and dress, in the same room, can we expect them to 
 preserve the standard of morality which we profess to 
 enforce upon our own class ? A great change is coming 
 over England, one which, although it has advanced 
 slowly, is now encroaching rapidly ; and that is in the 
 effect which education is having on the rising genera- 
 tion. Their increased knowledge will have the effect 
 of making them feel how unbearable is the life they are 
 forced to lead, and the higher standard of comfort they 
 will aspire to must give birth to feelings of discontent 
 and anger. They will not submit to adversity with the 
 patience of their parents. To them already is coming 
 the consciousness that light, air, and sunshine, are 
 God's gifts to the poor as well as to the rich ; and they 
 will demand their heritage, and that with no uncertain 
 voice. Home to them will no longer mean the dirty, 
 
\ B R - 
 
 IVEBSITY 
 THE HOMES OF THE POOR. 
 
 narrow, damp-smelling room in which they passed their 
 childhood. It will mean a dwelling, howsoever small, 
 in which a life such as they aspire to, better and 
 brigher than their past, will be possible, in which hope 
 and affection will play no unimportant part ; a life 
 which, whilst accepting the inequalities and distinctions 
 that must always appear in every community, will be 
 full of dignity, patience, and courage, qualities of 
 which they and their fathers have set an example 
 that is the admiration of the civilised world. 
 
 NOTE. Since this paper was written, large clearances 
 have been made in many of the localities mentioned, and 
 the County Council are preparing, very slowly, to build. 
 The dwellings erected by the Guinness Trust have ful- 
 filled the highest expectations ; but they are quite insuffi- 
 cient to cope with the demand for accommodation from 
 the people who are now unable to live near their work. 
 In Bethnal Green the overcrowding and unsanitary con- 
 ditions are worse than before. The poor are forced to 
 occupy what rooms they can get rather than risk losing 
 their work by living farther away. 
 
246 
 
 THE SALVATION ARMY. 
 
 There are three divisions into which the poorer 
 classes in London may be divided : (i) the working 
 men in receipt of constant wages, and rarely out of 
 work; (2) working men, their employment uncertain, and 
 their wages small, who are so unskilled that they can 
 count on regular employment only in times of great 
 prosperity, and at other times earn barely enough for 
 support ; and (3) " the submerged tenth," 'those who 
 have drifted into a hopeless condition. The first class 
 seldom needs assistance. The club provides for most 
 of its domestic exigencies, and as the children grow 
 up their earnings augment the family incomes. The 
 second class is constantly in need of help. Thrift and 
 the greatest self-denial do not provide a store sufficient 
 to carry it over bad times, and when work is slack 
 privations of terrible severity have to be undergone. 
 The third class is one which, through long and varied 
 experience, has been the despair of practical philan- 
 thropists. 
 
THE SALVATION ARMY. 247 
 
 If we examine the charitable work of this century, we 
 shall find that at the beginning it was directed towards 
 reclaiming those who had fallen into irredeemable 
 degradation. Mrs. Fry, John Howard, and all the early 
 philanthropists, strove towards that end ; and until the 
 days of Lord Shaftesbury the work of the charitable 
 was mainly an endeavour to give what we now call the 
 residuum another chance. It would be untrue to say 
 that their work was a failure. Among the thousands 
 with whom they came in contact, there were some still 
 amenable to influence. These, however, were a small 
 minority. As time wore on the beggars multiplied (the 
 result, mainly, of indiscriminate charity), and infested 
 the streets so numerously that societies, such as the 
 Mendicity Society, the Society for the Relief of Distress, 
 and the Charity Organisation Society, arose to deal 
 with the wretched men and women, waifs and strays 
 of humanity, who thronged our large towns, harrowing 
 the hearts of those who listened to their terrible tales 
 of suffering and sin. 
 
 The result of the investigation of those societies 
 has been that there is a class, a very large one, for 
 which there is no future but the workhouse. Little 
 real good could be done among people not anxious to 
 help themselves. When self-respect has vanished self- 
 control disappears. If we inquire closely into the life of 
 the drunkards, the loafers, and the most degraded women, 
 we find that in nearly every instance they have had at 
 least one chance of retrieving their character, and of 
 leading an honest life, but that from some serious 
 
248 THE SALVATION ARMY. 
 
 moral defect, or an inability to resist temptation, they 
 drifted back. Unless we are prepared to undertake to 
 be personal police to them, there is no hope for them. 
 Constant supervision would enable them to carry on 
 certain \vork, and while control was maintained the 
 moral improvement would continue ; but once those 
 restraints were relaxed the weaknesses to which they 
 had succumbed would again assert themselves. The 
 difficulty of inducing a feeling of self-respect is added 
 to by the absence of any actively sympathetic public 
 opinion. Where every man is a drunkard or a loafer, 
 and every woman a prostitute, no standard of right and 
 wrong is possible. Such a condition is a source of 
 danger to the country. 
 
 As the various needs of the poorer classes thrust 
 themselves on the notice of the community, means of 
 help were devised ; and it is not an exaggeration to say 
 that there is no case of want, or of illness, or of vice, 
 for which there is not some remedy to be found among 
 the charitable agencies. There are times, however, 
 when, for some inscrutable reason, the conscience of 
 the country wakes. Then, in a blind and unquestioning 
 way, the country pours its riches into the hands of 
 some reformer who, like General Booth, has caught 
 the popular fancy, not taking the trouble, first of all, 
 to inquire whether the condition of neglect and desti- 
 tution which he describes is actual, or, if it is, what 
 remedies there are to meet it. Year after year, for 
 over fifty years, charities of all kinds, devised to meet 
 every variety of circumstance, have been formed ; and 
 
THE SALVATION ARMY. 249 
 
 the problem among philosophical philanthropists has 
 been how to stop their increase. It may be inter- 
 esting to take the important points of the Salvationist 
 scheme, and show what the Church of England and 
 other religious bodies have done in the same direction. 
 I cannot say that the established societies have 
 undertaken all the tasks which General Booth sets 
 himself. His Labour Bureau, for example, is so com- 
 prehensive that it would almost need a Government 
 Department to carry out its programme. It may be 
 well, however, to analyse what he is doing, and to see 
 how far his efforts overlap the efforts of others. 
 
 General Booth, like everyone who has witnessed 
 among the poor the sufferings of their lives, has, with a 
 wonderful gift of organization, conceived a scheme some 
 parts of which, if carried out, might confer great benefit. 
 Fundamentally, however, he is a prophet of what we 
 know already. He treats the "submerged tenth" as a 
 discovery of his own, and believes that his is the first 
 definite and serious attempt to raise them. For many 
 years before he was heard of, organizations for coping 
 with the evils he describes were actively at work, and 
 had done much good. 
 
 Beginning with the largest class of whom General 
 Booth writes, the homeless and starving poor, for whose 
 benefit he proposes shelters and lodging-houses, of 
 which he has already opened a few, where anybody in 
 want of a bed or an evening meal can find one 
 either on payment or through charity, we shall find 
 on inquiry that there are many such places in London, 
 
2 5 o THE SALVATION ARMY. 
 
 which have been open for years. The Newport Market 
 Refuge, the Field Lane Refuge, the House of Shelter 
 in Waterloo Street, the Houseless Poor Asylum in 
 Whitecross Street, and the Providence Row Refuge, 
 are only a few, taken at random, of the many 
 shelters in London, conducted on the lines of the 
 Salvation Army, where any homeless person can have 
 food and a clean bed at night and next morning, and, if 
 willing to work, can be assisted to carry out his desire. 
 Many of the refuges have been open for over thirty 
 years, and have given help to hundreds of thousands. 
 The Newport Market Refuge gave 19,870 beds and 
 meals in 1890; the House of Shelter, a small building, 
 gave 1, 806. The Homeless Poor Asylum can take in 
 500 a night, and is always full ; and the Providence 
 Row Refuge has, since its opening in 1860, given 
 lodgings, suppers, and breakfasts, to a million 
 persons. In connection with all the shelters there is 
 a labour agency the primary object being that the 
 help afforded should be a stepping-stone to regular 
 employment. Many of the lodgers are people who go 
 to the refuge because the discipline is less strict than that 
 of the workhouse. The great advantage of the refuge is 
 that every case is gone into carefully by some respon- 
 sible person. The refuges, besides, have agencies for 
 dealing with the children who come into them ; and one of 
 the chief successes of their work is attained in dealing 
 with the children's futures. All the refuges named are 
 worked in connection with the Church of England ; and 
 they are cited as indicating what is being done by that 
 
THE SALVATION ARMY. 251 
 
 body. There are also Roman Catholic and Dis- 
 senting charities of a like kind, all doing the same work, 
 and on more or less the same bases, much too numer- 
 ous to mention. The prices of the food supplied are 
 the same as those of the Salvation Army, and when 
 there is positive destitution food is given for nothing. 
 The "evening Salvation meeting" is not part of the 
 entertainment ; but prayers are read at night. 
 
 One of the most important works of which General 
 Booth writes is the much-needed assistance to dis- 
 charged prisoners. No work is more difficult ; none more 
 disappointing. It is hard enough to find employment 
 for the sober and the honest. It is much more difficult 
 to find it for those who have forfeited all claims to 
 relief; yet the undertaking has not been neglected. 
 The Duke of Westminster, as Chairman of the Royal 
 Society for the Assistance of Discharged Prisoners, 
 wrote a letter on the subject to The Tunes. No 
 authority is greater than his. He tells a very simple 
 story of what has been and is being done, and, quoting 
 the words of Sir Edward du Cane, Chairman of the 
 Commissioners of Prisons, says : 
 
 In 1878 a society [meaning the Royal Society] was established for 
 aiding prisoners discharged from penal servitude, and has successfully 
 carried on their most useful duties since that time. Since 1878, 
 when the local prisons were transferred to Government, a uniform 
 system has been applied to all localities, and the formation of aid 
 societies has been so much encouraged that there are now 63 dis- 
 charged prisoners' aid societies working in connection with all 
 prisons in England and Wales, besides 42 other societies, refuges, 
 and homes ; and in London, no less than 15 societies are engaged in 
 
252 THE SALVATION ARMY. 
 
 the work, and every prisoner has on release an opportunity of being 
 assisted by one or other of them. 
 
 The system adopted by those societies is different from 
 that of General Booth. Their experience is that there 
 is great danger in allowing discharged prisoners to 
 come into contact with one another. The men then 
 compare notes and plan mischief. In one respect, 
 however, the two methods coincide. Work is always 
 found for those who want it. General Booth does not 
 exaggerate the horrors of the despair which overtakes 
 a poor prison-bird when he finds that his chance of 
 regaining his position and earning an honest living is 
 hopeless. Nothing is more heart-rending than to listen 
 to the tale of the weakness and the depravity which 
 lead to crime. Still, the facts I give show that no 
 man need become a confirmed criminal from want of 
 a helping hand in his hour of need. 
 
 By a natural transition, we come from the criminal 
 class to one quite as difficult to deal with the fallen 
 women of our large towns. The class has, for practical 
 considerations, been divided into two : those who have 
 fallen for the first time, and those who are so degraded 
 as to be almost beyond hope. No work has developed 
 more largely than that which aims at rescuing those 
 women. The number of homes for their succour has 
 increased to an almost undesirable extent. Among the 
 associations for the assistance of the most degraded, 
 where longer training and more severe discipline are 
 imposed, may be mentioned the Church Penitentiary 
 
THE SALVATION ARMY. 253 
 
 Association, which in 1890 sent 2,777 women out to try 
 and begin life anew ; the Female Mission to the Fallen, 
 which since 1836 has rescued over 20,000 women ; the 
 Friendless and Fallen Institution, where since 1875 at 
 least as many have been received ; and the Homes of 
 Hope, in Regent Square, which during thirty years 
 have been steadily working on a rather broader basis. 
 These are a few from among the seventeen registered 
 in the list of London charities. There are, besides, 
 very many private homes, dependent on the support of 
 friends and workers, of which the public know 
 nothing. Many of those institutions divide their 
 w r ork into Rescue and Prevention, and are in com- 
 munication with others whose mission is to prevent 
 young women, when friendless and alone, from going 
 astray. The London Female Preventive and Reforma- 
 tory Institution, in Euston Road, has no fewer than 
 seven affiliated homes, into which the fallen or the 
 friendless who need succour are drafted ; and 
 has a shelter open all night to any woman 
 who may wander there in search of rest and food. 
 Among the women who profit by the homes are many 
 young mothers who but for the help would be unable 
 to make a fresh start in life. The w r ork of rescue 
 would not be complete were the welfare of the infant 
 not considered. Therefore, in every case, the child is 
 provided with a good nurse, and looked after by the 
 matron of the home when the mother has returned to 
 work. 
 
 Those few instances will show that the work of 
 
254 T H E SALVATION ARMY. 
 
 rescue is not attended to by the Salvation Army only. 
 Experience has shown that the work of rescue is best 
 carried out with little parade. Anything approaching 
 hysterical treatment is fatal to repentance. 
 
 The number of homes for the protection of girls is 
 almost as great. It is difficult to arrive at an accurate 
 calculation. Many of the homes are on a very small 
 scale, and under the management of women. Among 
 those best known are Princess Louise's Homes at 
 Wanstead ; those of the Society for the Rescue of 
 Young Women and Children, in Finsbury Pavement ; 
 and the Travellers' Aid Society for the protection of 
 girls coming to town without a home to go to. The story 
 told by General Booth of the girl who was refused 
 admittance to a refuge on the ground that she was not 
 a fallen girl, and shortly afterwards returned to tell 
 the matron that she had qualified, need never be quoted 
 as proof that no help is at hand to prevent so terrible 
 an expedient. What I have stated is enough to prove 
 that of the means for rescuing women when fallen, and 
 for preventing others from falling, there is no lack. 
 
 There is one branch of Mr. Booth's scheme his 
 popular Court of Arbitration, which is to be applied in 
 furthering work which is so distinctly connected with 
 rescue that, for convenience, I take it here. He 
 deplores the want of any means in London for afford- 
 ing the poor legal assistance ; and he quotes, as an 
 example, the difficulty of bringing punishment to the 
 betrayers of lost women, and the injustice which 
 allows all the consequences of sin to fall on the weaker 
 
THE SALVATION ARMY. 255 
 
 sinner. He gives instances of cases where his agents 
 have traced out the seducer, and forced him to make 
 adequate pecuniary reparation. General Booth speaks 
 of such' an institution as original ; but there has been 
 at work since 1844 the Associate Institute for the 
 Protection of Women and Children, which in 1890 
 dealt with 734 cases. 
 
 The most comprehensive portion of the Salvationist 
 scheme is the Advice Bureau. There is not one item 
 of its designs to which some established organization 
 (it may be, perhaps, only the elementary court of 
 redress, the police court) is not already attending. 
 Disputed agreements, affiliation cases, cruelty to 
 animals, assault, bankruptcy, bills of sale, breach of 
 promise, cruelty to children, divorce, executors' duties, 
 disputes of husbands and wives, libel cases, questions 
 of marriage laws, next-of-kin wanted, cases of trespass 
 these are only a few of the questions to be under- 
 taken by the new tribunal, whose law, let us hope, will 
 be as sound as its aims are varied. 
 
 General Booth's emigration scheme is ambitious 
 enough to satisfy his most enthusiastic followers. Whe- 
 ther he can carry it out, and whether, in the short space 
 of time his emigrants stay at the farm-colony the in- 
 fluence he brings to bear on them will have sufficiently 
 eradicated the defects which have mainly brought them 
 thither, so as to make them welcome to the colonists 
 over the sea, is a matter on which we may have some 
 doubt. Emigration is always being urged as the 
 panacea for the sufferings of the poor, and many 
 
256 THE SALVATION ARMY. 
 
 attempts have been made, and are being made, to in- 
 crease it ; but insuperable difficulties always present 
 themselves in the unwillingness of the poor to go, and 
 in the difficulty of finding people to emigrate who 
 are worth the trouble and expense. The colonists, 
 naturally, are not desirous of receiving our surplus 
 population, who cannot live here because they 
 cannot work as well as others, or are unwilling to 
 try, planted among themselves. The great expense 
 of emigration, as long as it is left to private agencies, 
 must always make it a difficult work ; and the 
 " submerged tenth " are unlikely to succeed better in a 
 country where health, energy, and industry, are indis- 
 pensable for success. Still, recognising those difficulties, 
 many agencies are at work in that direction : the most 
 novel and interesting is that organised by Lord Brassey 
 and Mr. Tuke. 
 
 An important part of modern philanthrophic work 
 is omitted by General Booth. The boys and girls of 
 England, to whose welfare the clergy and all practical 
 people now devote themselves, evidently do not interest 
 the Salvation Army. The lost, the starving, the out- 
 casts beyond the pale of salvation (and generally so 
 from personal weakness or vice), who long ago were 
 sadly passed by from a conviction, born of long ex- 
 perience, that nothing can be done to improve their lives 
 materially, are the sheep that General Booth takes for 
 his flock : the charitable are asked to help him to take 
 up a task which, from the beginning, is fraught with 
 failure. Nearly a century of work has proved that, 
 
THE SALVATION ARMY. 257 
 
 sad as it is, trying to save these people is wasting time 
 and money. The wisest as well as the greatest philan- 
 thropist of this century, Lord Shaftesbury, recognised 
 that at the beginning of his career ; and his life's work 
 was given to saving the children of the poorest and 
 lowest of the populace, knowing that the seed planted 
 in young hearts would bear fruit. 
 
 General Booth does refer, in a very cursorary way, to 
 the waifs and strays of the streets of London, and advo- 
 cates the establishment of creches in the centres of popu- 
 lation, evidently being unaware that there are cri-chcs 
 in all parts of London, mainly under the management of, 
 and supported by, the clergy and the district visitors. 
 Proceeding, he indicates slightly how he would protect 
 friendless waifs and strays. It would not be accurate 
 to say that, in this particular, or, indeed, in any other, 
 he states that all the great evils he deals with are not 
 recognized, or that attempts are not made to cope with 
 them ; but he certainly does so by implication, for no- 
 where in Darkest England \$ there the smallest hint that 
 any evangelizing work is being done. The impression 
 left on the reader is that his scheme is the first that 
 has ever been put forward seriously to grapple with the 
 terrible problem. He seems to know nothing of the 
 Ragged School movement ; or of the work of the Church 
 of England Homes for Waifs and Strays ; or of the 
 work done by Dr. Barnardo, which, whether we agree 
 with all his ways of carrying it on or not, is un- 
 doubtedly great. As regards every charitable enterprise 
 General Booth is silent. His book, from beginning 
 
258 THE SALVATION ARMY. 
 
 to end, is a tacit indictment of the Church of England 
 and the Nonconformists. One has no wish to attribute 
 to him any motives other than those of a great 
 desire to benefit the sorrowful and heavy-laden ; but 
 it would have been better policy on his part to have 
 admitted what is being done by the great religious 
 bodies. He knows as well as everyone must who lives 
 much in contact with the poor that the work done by 
 the religious bodies is gigantic ; and that, although it 
 cannot cope with all the evil and poverty it encounters, 
 which increases out of proportion to the power of the 
 clergy to arrest it, the work grows year by year. 
 
 The clergy have shown great forbearance in not re- 
 senting the tacit accusation which his work contains ; 
 but those who know them and work with them need 
 not be so reticent, and may even say for them what I 
 have heard said repeatedly when talking to those who 
 live and work in the most degraded parts of London, 
 and said by those who have lived in those localities all 
 their lives, and know every house and every family : 
 "I do not know where the Salvation Army work, or 
 where they go; but I have never come across them." 
 The Church, however, can leave her work to be judged 
 by its results. The Sunday-schools, the mothers' 
 meetings, the guilds, the Bands of Hope, the clubs 
 for young men and women, the series of innocent 
 evening amusements, the dinners for hungry children, 
 the clothing clubs, the relief in illness and want, the 
 maternity charities, the creches, the country holidays for 
 children these are signs that the principle, " I am not 
 
THE SALVATION ARMY. 259 
 
 my brother's keeper," has long since died away. The 
 consciousness that the responsibility of wealth and 
 position cannot be overlooked is one of the strongest 
 and most universal convictions of the nineteenth 
 century. Without blare of trumpets or noise of drums, 
 the little army of workers, like ants, busily and silently 
 carry on a work which is stupendous. General Booth's 
 appeal, however, has seized on many imaginations. Our 
 usually phlegmatic people have been roused into a semi- 
 hysterical state and impelled to pour their money with 
 unquestioning faith into the hands of an organization 
 for which they have hitherto professed contempt. 
 If the offerings were an expiation for indifference, and 
 an addition to ordinary benefactions, there w r ould be 
 nothing to say. Unfortunately, charity is not an un- 
 limited quantity. When people give to General Booth, 
 they cut off other subscriptions. The result of re- 
 plenishing General Booth's coffers is less help in every 
 other direction. All parts of London suffer materially 
 from what has been given to the Salvation Army. 
 One has but to read the daily appeals in the news- 
 papers to realise how large is the falling-off. There 
 are thousands of poor people who sadly want the help 
 they have had in past years, while nearly ; 100,000 
 goes into the Salvation Army balance, to be lent out 
 by General Booth on his bonds, or promissory notes, 
 from 2\ to 5 per cent., until his scheme is matured, 
 and his various agencies are set to work. The dis- 
 may of many East-end and South-London clergy at the 
 
 result of their annual Christmas appeal is piteous. 
 
 s 2 
 
260 THE SALVATION ARMY. 
 
 Every pound sent to the Salvation Army that was part 
 of the charity given annually to established agencies 
 is so much weight added to the burden, heavy enough 
 as it is, that has to be borne by the poor. The clergy 
 do all they can to mitigate the suffering; but their 
 means are slender, and quite inadequate without the 
 support from outside that hitherto has always been 
 forthcoming. 
 
 There is beside the " submerged tenth " a class of 
 poor people who are still, with outside assistance, able 
 to keep their heads above water. There are thousands 
 of families whose earnings are precarious, and alto- 
 gether amount to less than iSs. a week, who are still 
 able to keep their home, and the humanizing and 
 sacred influences which gather round it, by means 
 of the timely aid which the clergyman or the district 
 visitor provides. That help withdrawn, they have no 
 future, and sink into the residuum General Booth is 
 trying to save. An effect of General Booth's scheme, 
 therefore, will be to swell the ranks of the residuum. 
 One of the weakest spots in the Salvation Army scheme 
 is the centralization of the work in General Booth. 
 His capacity for organization is remarkable ; but he is 
 not immortal, and when his life is done what security 
 shall we have of the qualities of those on whom his 
 trusteeship will fall ? The operations of a gigantic 
 organization like that of the Salvation Army cannot 
 always be satisfactorily controlled by one man. If 
 General Booth were satisfied to be chairman of a body 
 of trustees, he would mitigate a reasonable misgiving. In 
 
THE SALVATION ARMY. 261 
 
 a momentary fit of enthusiasm he may get large sums 
 given for his work ; but when the cold fit supervenes, 
 as it most surely will, an account of his stewardship 
 will be asked. The 'history of Dr. Barnardo's homes 
 is a very good illustration of how delicate and epheme- 
 ral public confidence is. The bare suspicion that the 
 organization of his work was imperfect brought such a 
 pressure of public opinion to bear upon him that he 
 wisely formed a committee, who came to know the 
 value of his efforts : with the result that no charity is 
 more prosperous, or has gained more in public estima- 
 tion, than his. Some people are anxious that General 
 Booth should be given a free hand, and allowed to try 
 his scheme, feeling that if he fails it will be better than 
 that it should be nipped by criticism. Even General 
 Booth's enthusiastic followers admit that it is an ex- 
 periment, and that it has been tried before and found 
 wanting, although not on so large a scale ; but still they 
 say, " Let us stand by, and give him a chance." They 
 cannot realise how disastrous the hopes which they 
 cherish may prove in the process ; and they never 
 think for a moment of one of the most serious results 
 of the experiment, the swarms of unemployed that it 
 will bring to London. Every great charitable experi- 
 ment only increases the poverty and improvidence of 
 the very poor. It brings the unemployed from the 
 country in search of the much-advertised relief, and 
 the pressure becomes harder and harder. 
 
262 
 
 THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 
 
 Nothing is more remarkable in these days, when the 
 difficulty of getting permanent and well-remunerated 
 employment is so great, than the dislike among both 
 sexes of the working classes in England to domestic 
 service. Howsoever scarce work may be, howsoever 
 small the earnings of any other profession, both men 
 and women accept them in preference to servant's work. 
 It was not so formerly, when wages in service were 
 much lower, and work was much harder ; when the 
 principle that certain things pertained only to certain 
 offices had not been recognised, and servants were will- 
 ing to turn their hands to whatever came to them to do, 
 and the answer, "That is not my place," was unknown. 
 The standard of comfort was lower ; the obvious wants 
 of life, such as good food and decent lodgings, were 
 considered luxuries ; and on the less important neces- 
 sities very little consideration was bestowed. One has 
 only to go over any of the old houses in England, or, 
 better still, in London, to see what was considered 
 sufficiently good accommodation for servants. The 
 women fared better than the men ; for, although rele- 
 gated to the attics, with the heat of the summer sun 
 
THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 263 
 
 warming their rooms to suffocation, so that the want of 
 ventilation in summer was nearly as unbearable as the 
 bitter cold of winter, they did have some light and air, 
 which the men-servants never enjoyed. Underground, 
 dark, badly-ventilated rooms were the men's lodgings 
 beds in the servants' hall, or in any dark holes and 
 corners, 'were good enough for them. Although the 
 state of affairs is vastly improved, there are still many 
 houses in the most fashionable parts of London where 
 the want of space and the impossibility of building pro- 
 long the evils. These houses, however, are few, and 
 were the Acts about housing the working-classes put 
 into force underground sleeping rooms would become 
 obsolete. The great improvements which London has 
 undergone during the last forty years have affected the 
 upper rooms for servants. The old-fashioned houses 
 with their low rooms are fast disappearing, and Man- 
 sard roofs have changed rooms at the top into sanitary 
 spaces. In such matters, the change that has come 
 over the lives of servants is great. The consideration 
 shown by their masters is another improvement in 
 their lot. No one can say that the life of a servant 
 in a well-appointed house is hard or uncomfortable, or 
 that there is overwork. There are times, undoubtedly, 
 when the pressure is heavy ; but there are periods of 
 leisure also, and ordinarily the routine is so monotonous 
 as to be mechanical, and, therefore, not arduous. 
 No one knows better than a housekeeper how very 
 particular servants are about food. Not only must it 
 be ample : it must be well cooked, and of such variety 
 
264 THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 
 
 as to make it an important item in the cuisine. It will 
 be understood that we are now considering the con- 
 dition of servants in the employment of well-to-do 
 people in England, not that of those employed in es- 
 tablishments of the Royal Family or of exceptionally 
 rich people. 
 
 The complaint, which once was not uncommon, that 
 servants are underfed is now never heard. It was 
 formerly not usual to give them the same amount of 
 meat as they now consume. Bread-and-cheese was an 
 important item in their daily food, certainly among 
 women-servants ; but they now eat meat and solid food 
 in quantities which would tax the digestion of a Tem- 
 perance orator. Their work enables them to take 
 more solid nourishment than people who lead seden- 
 tary lives ; but one cannot refrain from the suspicion 
 that the quantity of meat eaten, and the strong tea and 
 beer which they consume, are, more often than over- 
 work or under-feeding, the cause of the illnesses among 
 them. The food of the upper servants is very much 
 that of their masters (less the extra delicacies with 
 w T hich masters might easily, and with advantage to 
 themselves, dispense) ; and that of the whole house- 
 hold is in extraordinary contrast with what it would be 
 in their own homes. If we realty look carefully into 
 what seems the great drawback to a servant's life, the 
 want of independence, and the difficulty of getting out, 
 it does not amount to a hardship. As regards women- 
 servants, it is not a disadvantage for them, when they 
 are young, to be under such control as admits of 
 
THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 265 
 
 their having only a short time for going out (especially 
 at night : they seldom ask leave for day-time), and 
 obliges them to return at regular hours. Restraint is 
 always distasteful to the young of any class or sex, and 
 servants share the feeling of the daughters of the house, 
 who would like more freedom in directions which custom 
 has deemed perilous. No respectable servant, however, 
 is ever refused her " time out " ; nor are her oppor- 
 tunities unduly rare, or grudging as to hours. Men- 
 servants can get out, for the best of all reasons, that 
 they insist on it. When not needed at home, they have 
 quite liberty enough, looking to the endless temptations 
 which public-houses and " billiard saloons " offer on 
 every hand in London ; and one knows of many cases 
 in which they have ruined themselves through betting 
 and drinking. 
 
 If we now examine the question of wages, we see the 
 real advantage of domestic service over almost every 
 other employment. In no other occupation do men 
 and women have food, board, and lodging, and, in 
 the case of men-servants, clothing found for them. 
 Whatever may befall them, their lodging and their 
 food are as secure as any Government investment ; 
 and their wages contrast favourably with the earn- 
 ings of other workpeople. Compare, for example, the 
 salary of a governess in an ordinary English family 
 with that of the butler. The governess must, by birth, 
 be a lady, who, before she can get employment, has 
 spent a certain part of her capital in her education, 
 and at the beginning considers herself lucky if she 
 
266 THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 
 
 gets from 50 to 60 a year. She has to dress well, 
 pay her journeys, her doctor's bills, and often keep her- 
 self during her holidays, which, in most families, are 
 compulsory. The man-servant starts at about fifteen 
 or sixteen years of age, without any previous outlay, 
 and, if he is steady and a good servant, can, by the 
 time he is the same age as the governess, earn from 
 35 to ^4 a y ear an< 3 his clothing. While her salary 
 remains nearly stationary, he rises to be butler, and, 
 with his perquisites, with no position to keep up, is earn- 
 ing higher wages than she ; which makes his a far more 
 lucrative post ; while his wardrobe is replenished by 
 his master from time to time. Surely, there can be no 
 doubt as to which is the easier lot. What is the re- 
 straint of his life in comparison with hers, condemned 
 to pass every moment of the day with her charges, 
 who may be, and often are, mischievous troublesome 
 creatures, from whom she cannot get away, except 
 during her holidays, and towards whom she must 
 exercise the greatest patience and kindness, never 
 relaxing her vigilance for a moment ?' 
 
 The lady's-maid is, perhaps, the servant whose 
 position, as regards qualifications, comes nearest to 
 that of the governess. Often she has to pay for an 
 apprenticeship, either in time or in money, before she 
 can earn much ; but the wages of a very good maid, 
 from ^35 to ^45 and her mistress's wardrobe, cannot 
 certainly be called insufficient, or much less than that 
 of the governess, while her responsibilities are incon- 
 siderable. The salaries of housemaids and the other 
 
THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 267 
 
 women-servants are all large in comparison, for there 
 is no outlay required to qualify them in the first 
 instance. Perhaps* the most envied of any post in 
 domestic service is that of housekeeper. In a large 
 house she has no manual labour, and the position is 
 one of dignified responsibility. It has always appeared 
 strange that such positions are not filled by ladies 
 more frequently than they are. A lady who has had a 
 house of her own, and understands the value and 
 appreciates the beauty of the art-treasures of many of 
 the great houses of England, might, as housekeeper, 
 lead a pleasant life ; and her employers would find in 
 such a person, the absolute integrity required. 
 
 We waive our contention that servants have no 
 right to complain of the conditions of modern life 
 when we come to consider the kitchen department. 
 We go so far as to say that it would be difficult to 
 over-rate the desagrimcnts of a cook's life, and well- 
 nigh impossible to pay a good cook too highly. 
 The work is ceaseless and of endless variety. The 
 apprenticeship is the hardest in domestic service. 
 The coming cook, as scullery-maid, has the life of a 
 slave. It is one of an endless struggle with dirt, 
 aggressive and repulsive. It is also hard. It falls on 
 a girl when she is growing, when fresh air and regular 
 meals are almost a necessity. It is scrub, scrub, from 
 morning until night ; and few know how many girls go 
 down in the struggle. The higher lot of kitchen-maid 
 is scarcely less severe. The function of cook exacts 
 qualities of organization, punctuality, and resource, 
 
268 THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 
 
 almost unattainable in any other calling. Little do 
 we consider at a dinner in London, where the hour of 
 cause means anything between the time named and 
 forty-five minutes later, the difficulty that must arise in 
 sending the dishes up. If we remember that everything 
 has to come at a given moment, everything in its turn, 
 that it is of infinite variety, that every sauce must be 
 ready with its own plat, nothing overdone or under- 
 done, and that the whole dinner must be served in 
 little over an hour, and compare it with almost any 
 other achievement, it becomes clear that the duties of 
 the cook are exacting. The responsibility falls on 
 one woman. She must be capable of handling intri- 
 cate details, and have her army in a high state of dis- 
 cipline. Perhaps the most trying condition of her work 
 is that it has to be carried out in a temperature almost 
 unbearable, and at an almost express speed. That, 
 combined with the anxiety, the noise, and the strain 
 on the nerves, is enough to account for a cook's irrita- 
 bility of temper. The work of the kitchen is incessant, 
 and less well paid (in proportion) than any other 
 domestic service. How much of happiness and success 
 depends on a good digestion, and how inseparable that 
 is from good cooking, is only another way of reflecting 
 that we owe much to our cook. We are apt to forget 
 that our servants are human like ourselves, only different 
 in that it is we who rule ; and many of the complaints 
 about " bad servants," with which we are overpowered, 
 would be obviated if a little more consideration were 
 shown to them. We are always hearing of the old 
 
THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 269 
 
 servants who were friends and not servants, and we 
 deplore the extinction of the class ; but the old order 
 would still be forthcoming were our lives less artificial 
 than they are. When households were smaller, and 
 servants came from the lands of their employers, 
 familiarity and affection were the natural outcome. It 
 was then almost impossible for a country lad or lass to 
 reach the fairy city whose streets were supposed to be 
 paved with gold. They went into service in " the big 
 house," therefore ; and they were married there, and 
 settled down to a peaceful, if humdrum, life in their 
 native parish. The railway train and compulsory edu- 
 cation have broken the genial accord. Boys and girls 
 must now be clerks, teachers, and young ladies in 
 shops, factory girls : anything but servants. 
 
 Let us take the highest rates of wages in the trades, 
 and contrast them with the wages earned by domestic 
 servants ; and let us not lose sight of the most im- 
 portant consideration that all factory and trade work 
 is fluctuating and uncertain, and that some of it, owing 
 to the constant change of fashions, may entirely dis- 
 appear, while domestic work is permanent. The 
 makers of trousers and waistcoats earn from 2s. to 35. a 
 day during the season (Easter to August), and are less 
 often out of work than others. Juvenile-suit-makers 
 earn in full work los. a week for the same time. Shirt- 
 finishers earn Sd. a day, 45. a week ; button-hole- 
 makers and gusset-makers, $d. a dozen, at which rate a 
 good worker earns 2d. an hour. Tie-makers can earn 
 8d. a dozen, from i-Jd. to 4d. an hour; parasol-and- 
 
270 THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 
 
 umbrella-makers earn, if fairly skilled, los. a week ; 
 furriers (good hands), lOs. to I2s. a week, rising to 
 1 8s., but that only for a short period. The match- 
 maker is paid 2d. the gross. If a good hand, working 
 56 hours a week, she can earn I is. /d. ; but during the 
 summer months trade is slack. Book-folders and book- 
 sewers earn from 93. to I is. a week ; laundresses, from 
 35. to 45. a day ; and collar-ironers, about 8s. a week for 
 three to four days a week. Dock labourers (preferred 
 hands) earn from 153. to i a week; the casual 
 labourer, I2s. to 155. a week on the average of the 
 year. A journeyman tailor may earn 2 IDS. a week 
 during the busy season ; but his average, from i to 
 2, will depend on his skill. The work is paid by the 
 piece, and 6d. an hour, or /d., or 8d., is the usual pay- 
 ment. Those figures denote the highest rates ; whereas a 
 man is in work generally only for a few months in every 
 year. Out of his earnings a man has to pay rent, his 
 living expenses, and his clothes ; whilst in many 
 cases, such as those of butlers and coachmen, besides 
 their wages and clothing, a house is often provided. If 
 we compare those wages with those of domestic service, 
 it is evident that there is no comparison as to which is 
 the most comfortable career. 
 
 There must be something fundamentally wrong with 
 the system when we are told how many persons of the 
 servant class are out of work, and how difficult it is 
 to get good servants. When we contrast the lives of 
 young men and women beginning amid other cir- 
 cumstances, and note their struggles and failures, we 
 
JNIV 
 THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 271 
 
 cannot but think that something might be done to make 
 domestic service more attractive, and that the fault lies 
 as much with the employers as with the employed. 
 The drudgery of any occupation is distasteful. Domestic 
 service is not an exception, and its hardness is enhanced 
 by the fact that the newest and lowliest servant has to 
 bear the giant's share of the work. The " odd man " 
 and the " scrub " are always the victims of the thought- 
 less selfishness of the servants above them, and the 
 master or mistress cannot always be at hand to see 
 that the duties are properly apportioned. In every other 
 rank of life indeed, in* almost every other employ- 
 ment we find a greater readiness to help one another. 
 Nobody deserves pity more than the poor little slavey 
 on whom the work of a small house falls. Those girls 
 who, beginning thus, weather the storm are very few. It 
 needs superhuman qualities of constitution and charac- 
 ter to overcome the adversities, and many girls are 
 broken down in early }^outh. We are overwhelmed 
 with reasons and cures for the dislike of domestic 
 service ; but none is altogether right. We are told ' 
 that there are 14,000 servants out of work, and, on the 
 other hand, that there are no good servants to be had. 
 There must be some juste milieu between those two 
 assertions. Where shall we find it ? 
 
 The new popularity of flats in our large towns is the 
 outcome of the servant difficulty. It diminishes labour 
 and the need for servants. In America, it solved 
 one of the most pressing domestic questions, and it is 
 doing the same in England. The increasing demands 
 
272 THE DOMESTIC SERVANT. 
 
 of servants are making housekeeping a very expensive 
 affair, and flats are making life easier and cheaper by 
 enabling people to dispense with them. The flats in 
 London are being filled by people whose incomes will 
 not admit of their having a large staff of servants. In 
 time we shall probably find every one, except the very 
 well-to-do, adopting them in preference to houses. Thus 
 we shall have the army of unemployed domestics largely 
 increased. The change of usage will affect thousands of 
 men and women in England, who will find it impossible 
 to get employment. In the colonies nearly all of them 
 would find ready work ; but the dislike to emigration is 
 too deeply embedded in English servants to make that 
 a practical solution. That there is a large demand for 
 servants no one reading the advertisements in the news- 
 papers can doubt, and that there are thousands seeking 
 work is manifest. Why, when domestic service in 
 all save one particular compares favourably with every 
 other occupation, is it not eagerly sought ? The secret 
 must lie in some compromise through which servants 
 will realise that there is no such a thing as absolute in- 
 dependence : that we are all part of a great family, and 
 that there is nothing degrading in service or glorious in 
 "emancipation." The employers, also, must learn that 
 those dependent on them are flesh and blood like unto 
 themselves, with the same weaknesses and faults, as 
 well as similar aspirations ; and that more considera- 
 tion on their part would do much to restore the old 
 order which (we are told) has passed away. 
 
273 
 
 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 England, after a long period of indifference, some few 
 years ago, suddenly developed an intense interest in 
 the material condition of the poor, and startling revela- 
 tions have from time to time stimulated that concern. 
 The accumulation of wealth and the increase of manu- 
 factures brought large importations of workmen into 
 the centres of industry ; and the rapid rise in wages, 
 whilst for the moment giving greater comfort to 
 the working classes, increased drunkenness, overcrowd- 
 ing, immorality, and the attendant evils. For some 
 years the position of working men in England was 
 exceedingly prosperous. A good workman could 
 command higher wages than an artizan in any other 
 country. The hours of work were shorter ; all the 
 necessaries of life, with the exception of house-room, 
 were cheaper ; and children could be educated at a 
 nominal cost. For the time, therefore, the work- 
 man and his wants were forgotten. He was regarded 
 in the light of the typical artizan of the early days of 
 Punch, who told Maria " to go and see that her mother 
 did not spoil the Sparrargrass by boiling it before he 
 came home to dinner." Undoubtedly, nothing could 
 
274 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 look more prosperous than the commercial condition of 
 England in those days. While the good times lasted 
 little was heard of the poor. Only those whose fore- 
 sight and experience told them that the continuance of 
 such general prosperity was impossible foresaw the 
 years of want. The forebodings proved true. Our 
 people have been passing through a time of ter- 
 rible pressure. The working classes in London may 
 now be divided into two classes : those who have 
 regular work for fair pay ; and those who have more or 
 less work for insufficient pay, and lose it when trade 
 becomes bad. 
 
 It would be impossible to speak too strongly in praise 
 of the manner in which, on the whole, the working 
 classes have borne the times. They have shown 
 patience and fortitude. The action of the Trades 
 Unions, and the strikes among some trades, intensified 
 and accelerated, perhaps, the pressure that was coming ; 
 but it is unjust to accuse the working classes of being 
 the authors of the misfortunes which have pressed so 
 heavily on themselves. While their savings lasted, and 
 a little work was to be had, they struggled on, living by 
 the sale of their furniture, or pledging their clothes, 
 trusting to the better times that were, they hoped, to 
 come, when they might recover their positions and get 
 back their homes. 
 
 To many, alas, that better time has never come ; arid 
 the condition of their homes and clothing testifies to the 
 dire struggle they have had to keep starvation from 
 their doors. The general distress was accentuated by 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 275 
 
 the ruin of small firms, which threw many workmen out 
 of employment, who, having no certainty of returning 
 in better times to their old occupations, were obliged to 
 seek work farther afield, in a market already overstocked 
 with labour. The condition of a respectable man 
 thrown permanently out of work is truly pitiable. In 
 addition to the actual privation he endures, the anxiety 
 of his position changes his character. His moral sense 
 becomes blunted ; he loses all habits of discipline, 
 punctuality, self-control ; after a time he seems to part 
 with the desire as well as with the capacity for work. 
 The sight of the suffering of his wife and children 
 seems to harden him ; and the certain knowledge 
 that with parish relief they need not starve makes 
 his moral descent more rapid. It is easy to pick out 
 the children of such a man at school. The attempt to 
 keep up the tidy appearance of their clothing has been 
 abandoned ; they become shabbier daily ; their boots 
 seem to belong less to their feet than to the pavement ; 
 and you anticipate the invariable answer, " Father's 
 got no work yet." 
 
 Whence work is to come is a problem we are all 
 trying to solve. There are two remedies which, if they 
 could be applied, would mitigate the evil. Emigration 
 and the prevention of early marriages are both, unfor- 
 tunately, distasteful to the poor in England. They will 
 suffer any discomfort or privation sooner than leave 
 their dark, dirty, and unhealthy houses ; their ignorance, 
 their dread of the sea, and the strong family feeling 
 that characterises all classes of Englishmen, make them 
 
 T 2 
 
276 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 view emigration as banishment ; and no picture of the 
 vast unpeopled tracts of the world, teeming with riches 
 waiting for development, holds for them any temptation. 
 To talk to them of the virtue of self-control, of the 
 folly and wickedness of marrying early without making 
 some provision for a family, is useless. To tell them 
 that in your own class of life no one thinks of marrying 
 without making some provision for the future causes 
 only a dull surprise. 
 
 The prospect is dark ; the task looks hopeless. Early 
 influences have moulded the characters of many of the 
 poor into such grooves of habit that they cannot cast 
 off their fetters. Sadly we realise that no important 
 reform is possible, and wonder how with such miser- 
 able lives they can be fairly contented and patient. 
 
 The patience of the poor is not dogged indifference, 
 nor reckless despair. It is a cheerful acquiescence in 
 the fate that Providence has decreed for them, and a 
 steady unswerving endeavour to make the best of their 
 lives. What is the secret of this patience ? Do 
 not we see men and women in prosperous positions 
 well-nigh succumb to misfortunes insignificant in com- 
 parison ? I think the riddle is not difficult to answer. 
 It is easier for the poor to accept the position. They 
 are untroubled by the many religious doubts that 
 assail those who are brought into constant contact with 
 the unanswerable problems of life. 
 
 For a long time the material condition of the poor 
 only interested those who thought much of them ; but 
 their spiritual condition has now become quite as 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 277 
 
 absorbing. On one hand we are told that the poor in 
 England have no belief whatever, and are occupied only 
 with the struggle of life ; on the other, that, although 
 not unbelievers, they are indifferent to any religious 
 proposition, too ignorant to understand, even had they 
 leisure to ponder, the conceptions of faith. Many who 
 know them well vehemently assure us that the Church 
 of England is losing what little hold she had upon the 
 people, who are rapidly drifting those who retain any 
 remnants of faith into the ranks of the Dissenters, or 
 into the Salvation Army. Some knowledge of the 
 poor makes us deny all three opinions. That some 
 working men in England are Atheists is true but they 
 are few. They belong to certain trades, and are 
 usually the followers of some prominent member of 
 their own class or profession with a stronger will than 
 themselves. The majority of such men is largely 
 composed of foreigners as a rule, who, besides holding 
 advanced irreligious opinions, are politically strong 
 Radicals. The nature and the localization of their work 
 make the sphere of their influence limited, and they do 
 not increase in number or in influence. The sedentary 
 character of the occupations of many of them affords 
 them opportunities for reflection which are not possible 
 to workmen employed in more active labour. The 
 problems of life weigh more heavily on them, and give 
 birth to the feelings of doubt and discontent of which 
 want of belief is the offspring. Many of the large 
 Radical Working Men's Clubs in London are as much 
 the temples of unbelief as of political dogmatism. Any- 
 
278 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 one attending their meetings unprepared for the keen- 
 ness of debate on religious subjects might well go away 
 with the conviction that the working-men in London 
 were complete unbelievers, and that to the imperfectly 
 educated working-man life presents riddles that may 
 fairly shake the strongest faith. The atheistical artizan, 
 however, is no more a representative of working-class 
 opinion than the other class of whom I spoke, who are 
 supposed to be too ignorant and indifferent to take an 
 active interest in any religious questions whatever, of 
 whom I have rarely seen a representative. 
 
 The real fact regarding religious opinion among the 
 working classes in England is, it appears to us, 
 simple and natural. The confidence which is the 
 secret of their patience and courage enables them to 
 look with something like philosophical calm on the 
 problems which have perplexed the wise for ages ; for 
 the faith of the poor is summed up in their strong belief 
 in immortality, an immortality of happiness and peace. 
 A belief in the justice of God and the reality of Heaven 
 is the basis of their faith and the hope born of that 
 belief makes their lives bearable. The parable of Dives 
 and Lazarus is perhaps the best illustration of their 
 state of mind. Nothing is more remarkable among the 
 poor than their strong inherent conviction that the King- 
 dom of Heaven is not for the rich, but is their inheri- 
 tance. The hardships of their life are supportable 
 because in the unending future Lazarus will be com- 
 forted and Dives tormented. Their span here is only 
 a time through which they must pass in order to gain 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 279 
 
 the recompense of patience ; eternal banishment from 
 the presence of ,God is the requital of lives spent in 
 self-indulgence. 
 
 The personality of Christ is a very real conception 
 to the poor. The conviction that in taking a human 
 body on Himself, with its capacity for suffering, He was 
 enabled to gauge the depth of their need, and so preach 
 the consoling doctrine of the Christian religion, is the 
 foundation on which this belief is built. A sense of 
 justice is strongly developed in the English character ; 
 and that sense of justice, combined with the want of 
 knowledge that sorrow is not the monopoly of the poor, 
 but that there are elements of tragedy in the lives even 
 of the prosperous, serves to intensify their conviction 
 that the obvious hardships of their lot, so much out of 
 proportion to others, must be more than compensated 
 in eternity. Such a faith requires no religious pro- 
 fession. The heaven the poor believe in will be theirs 
 if they live their life on earth in patience, honesty, and 
 sobriety. The poor neither care for nor understand 
 the dogma of the Christian religion. To them it is 
 mere verbiage. The rock on which they build their 
 faith is the teaching of Christ denuded of all doctrinal 
 mysteries, and the pure lofty unselfishness of His char- 
 acter appeals to their weary souls. "To love God and 
 do your duty to your neighbour " is the daily desire of 
 the poor. Their love is shown in their intense belief 
 in His goodness and mercy, and their duty to their 
 neighbour in the daily and hourly acts of kindness to 
 one another. Among the poor there is a constant 
 
28o THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 readiness to help, even down to dividing their small 
 pittance and the children's food with those worse off 
 than themselves. Where, but among the poor, do we 
 see the widow cared for, and solaced, and helped to 
 begin her solitary struggle by subscription raised among 
 those hardly richer than herself? Nowhere else do 
 we find the orphan, or the child deserted by its 
 natural protector, made one of the children of the 
 family sooner than that it should go to the workhouse. 
 When we look for the real simple virtues that make 
 human nature beautiful, we find it in the annals of the 
 poor. Nowhere, and in no record of great and noble 
 lives, do we come across such deeds of devotion, 
 self-sacrifice, and heroism, as are witnessed among 
 the humblest inhabitants of some of the most miser- 
 able alleys in London. There the great Master's 
 teaching is bearing silent fruit. It is made part of 
 e very-day life. 
 
 Dogmatic belief, therefore, has little influence on 
 the poor. Their lives are too busy and narrow, and they 
 are too ignorant, to admit of its having an important 
 influence upon them. A working-man has quite enough 
 to do in earning what will support his family. He is 
 sober and honest because intemperance and dishonesty 
 would entail misery on those he loves ; not because it 
 would displease God, although in a vague way that idea 
 does influence him. One simple sign of the effect 
 which dogmatic teaching has on the poor is to be 
 found in observing the churches which they attend. 
 Those where long sermons are preached are generally 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 281 
 
 empty ; those in which the few simple truths of Chris- 
 tianity are preached are full. As preaching in the 
 Church of England is not a distinct vocation, as among 
 Catholics, usually the sermons delivered in the ordinary 
 London Church are neither stirring nor eloquent ; but 
 with the poor fine preaching does not fill a church any 
 more than indifferent preaching empties it. It is the 
 personal influence of the clergyman, and the simplicity 
 of his words that attract. 
 
 Some of the largest and most attentive congrega- 
 tions in the most crowded parts of London listen with 
 rapt attention to sermons which intellectually are 
 beneath contempt, but are all-sufficing to them, as they 
 dwell on the simple faith that lies nearest their hearts 
 the love and justice of God, and the rest that is 
 awaiting the weary and heavy-laden. 
 
 Nothing, however, keeps the poor away from church 
 so much as the poverty and badness of their clothing. 
 They are proud, and anxious to keep up appearances ; 
 and as long as that can be done they struggle to 
 prevent their neighbours knowing of their distress ; 
 and in the dim light of a Sunday night, when their 
 shabbiness is not so easily seen, they go to church, 
 and from their heart enjoy the peace and promise 
 they receive. Many a poor woman has said, " I 
 would thankfully go to church ; but I am ashamed to 
 be seen in these rags." It is a common belief that the 
 poor go to church as much for the sake of what they 
 think they may gain by constant attendance as for any 
 better reason ; but experience teaches us the reverse. 
 
282 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 They more often stay away because they are ashamed 
 to let anyone know their poverty. 
 
 The most profound believers in the eternal happiness 
 in store for the poor are naturally the women, on 
 whom the heaviest share of life's burden falls. It is 
 the woman's lot to scheme and plan how to make 
 the most of her husband's money, and to bring what 
 cheerfulness and brightness she can into the house. 
 Marrying much too early, and becoming the mother of a 
 large family long before she has physical strength to 
 stand the ordeal, badly nursed and nourished, and 
 obliged to work when rest and care are most necessary 
 she finds her recuperative powers taxed beyond endur- 
 ance ; and the struggle is long and very weary. It is 
 a common belief that poor women do not suffer either 
 mentally or physically as much as the more highly 
 bred and nervously strung women of the upper classes ; 
 but some forms of suffering are as intense to one class 
 as to the other. Child-bearing is as great pain to a 
 poor as to a rich woman ; and the common sorrows of 
 maternity are equally overpowering. Hunger, cold, 
 and want, are equally hard to bear ; and the 
 children's want is felt as keenly by the woman of the 
 lower classes as it is by the woman of the higher. The 
 agony of losing a child, the unspoken pain with which 
 a poor woman sees her child fading before her eyes for 
 want of medicines and care, is as intense as the grief 
 that the high-born mother experiences on losing the 
 child on whom all her love has been lavished. No 
 class distinctions, no centuries of breeding, can in- 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 283 
 
 tensify the one or diminish the other. The vacant 
 place, the silenced laughter, is as great a pang of 
 memory to the wife of the costermonger as it is to 
 the duchess. When we have seen the love with which 
 a poor woman has tended her dying child, the alter- 
 nations of hope and fear as the little flame of life 
 flickered again and again, and the deep agony of the 
 parting, we have been amazed at the quiet acquiesence 
 in the decree of the dread angel ; and only when, be- 
 tween the mother's broken sobs and bitter tears, we 
 have realised that she is weeping not for him but for 
 herself for the child has gone to the Heaven, where 
 she will some day rejoin him has.it been possible to 
 comprehend the strength and consolation of the belief 
 that the Kingdom of Heaven is for the poor. To the 
 weeping mother the last breath of the little one is a 
 whisper of the glory he is enjoying, and in her mind's 
 eye she sees the white-winged messengers of God 
 bearing him upward till the golden gates open to re- 
 ceive him. To the poor religion means all this, and a 
 great deal more. Want, sin, temptation, all the dread 
 foes of their earthly life, will be vanquished ; those whom 
 they have lost will meet them on the other side of the 
 dark river ; there will be a complete vindication of the 
 justice of God ; and of the infinite tenderness of Christ, 
 who lived their life on earth that they might be with 
 Him in Heaven. 
 
 The hope that the teaching of Christ gave to the 
 lives of men has been the secret of its strength and 
 power, a strength that is as great to-day as when He 
 
284 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 preached and taught by the Sea of Galilee. It was the 
 first ray of light that penetrated into the dark homes 
 of the poor and the enslaved ; and it made all they 
 suffered then, and suffer still, endurable. 
 
 That they should consider Heaven and its rewards 
 as their special heritage is not unnatural. A scheme 
 of compensation which rewarded all classes alike 
 would be of less equity. Dives has had his good 
 things in this life : why should he enjoy an equality 
 with them in Heaven ? They have no desire that 
 Dives should suffer unnecessarily ; but his fate is a 
 matter of indifference to them. He has drunk the cup 
 of pleasure to the dregs : it is only just he should ac- 
 cept the consequences. Their opinion about it always 
 seems to be embodied in a delightful answer which an 
 old Scotch minister made to one of his flock, a rich, 
 overbearing old lady who, complaining to him of the 
 great agony she suffered from rheumatic gout, asked 
 him whether he had ever experienced it. Looking at 
 her straight in the face, he said, with great deliberation, 
 " Na, na, my dear : I never was rich enough." So it is 
 with the poor. They know not the temptations and the 
 sorrows that go with riches. They judge by externals ; 
 and side by side with their grievous poverty they see 
 waste, luxury, extravagance. They go no deeper. 
 They know they are miserable. That is a terrible fact, 
 one that they cannot explain ; but they accept it 
 patiently and uncomplainingly, being rich in faith and 
 having the divine authority for believing that " it is 
 easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 285 
 
 than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven." 
 In an essay on " Artizan Atheism," Mr. Rossiter 
 attributes much of the lack of apparent religious feeling 
 among the poor to the want of vitality and earnest- 
 ness in the teaching of the clergy of the Church of 
 England, a teaching, he thinks, not simple enough ; 
 and contrasts their method with that of the Dissenters 
 and the Secularists, who, by their earnestness and 
 strength of faith, find, he supposes, a response in the 
 minds as well as in the hearts of their hearers. The 
 Salvation Army has been added to the formidable array 
 of antagonists against which the Church of England 
 has to contend. 
 
 It is false to affirm that the Church has not 
 opened her eyes to the need of stringent reform, or 
 that she represents only the religion of an aristo- 
 cracy. No one could assert this who had gone into any 
 of the large churches in the poorer parts of London. 
 Any large East-end church between Holborn and the 
 London Docks is crowded with the most attentive and 
 poorest of congregations. It is not the intellectual 
 power of the preacher that attracts them. It is, in 
 the first place, a personal feeling towards him whom 
 they know for their friend ; and, in the second place, 
 the light and warmth, and, above all, the beautiful 
 music, which fills a void in their hearts. 
 
 There never was a time in this century when the 
 Church of England was stronger, or more thoroughly 
 the Church of the people, than it is at this moment. 
 Her gain has not been conspicuous among the middle 
 
286 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 and the upper classes. The wave of Evangelism 
 which powerfully affected the middle classes appears 
 to have spent its force. The effect of the more emo- 
 tional movement associated with the name of Dr. 
 Pusey, which told on the upper classes, is at least 
 counterbalanced by the advance among those classes 
 of the Church of Rome. Beyond question, however, 
 the Church of England has gained and is gaining 
 among the poor. One is loth to appeal to the evidence 
 of the political barometer, of which the party tactician 
 often sets the hands ; but the cry for Disestablish- 
 ment, loud enough once, is fainter now, either because 
 it is not the voice of the people or because the party 
 tactician does not believe that it is. 
 
 The Church has recognised the necessity of adapting 
 her teaching and work to the needs of the people. As 
 the old-fashioned clergymen have passed away they 
 have been succeeded by younger men, whose lives are 
 records of unselfish devotion. We find among them 
 men of birth and intelligence who, having willingly 
 renounced all the social advantages they enjoyed, have 
 gone to live in the poorest and most unhealthy parts of 
 our large towns, spending their patrimony and income 
 in their parishes, living as poorly and sparingly as 
 their people themselves. Who, in such parishes, 
 is the friend and helper of his people but the clergy- 
 man ? One has but to see the kindly smile and greeting 
 between them, and watch the children crowding round 
 him, taking his hand and pouring out their little con- 
 fidences to him, to realise that he, at any rate, is trying 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 287 
 
 to preach Christ's Kingdom on earth. Such men are to 
 be found all over London and in all our large towns. 
 
 There is no better example of the wisdom and mag- 
 nanimity of the clergy of the Church than the spirit in 
 which they accepted the passing of the Elementary Edu- 
 cation Act, knowing as they did what the result of its 
 working would be. In the early days of education in 
 England, when the Church took the lead, education was 
 directly due to their exertions. Large sums of money 
 which the clergy had collected for the purposes of educa- 
 tion, large school buildings which had been erected in the 
 parishes under their supervision, passed by a process 
 of starvation (for it was nothing else) into the hands of a 
 body which, at first, was in strong antagonism to all 
 Church interference in education. The greatest power 
 the Church possessed, its influence over the young, 
 was apparently destroyed at one blow ; and nothing 
 could seem more complete than the divorce between 
 Church and Education. For a time the separation was 
 absolute, and the spirit in which both School 
 Boards and Churchmen worked was not amicable ; 
 but calmer counsels prevailed. The clergy, having 
 accepted the position, wisely set themselves to see how 
 best the lost ground could be recovered. It has been 
 regained marvellously. Among no class in England is 
 the Church now so largely recruited as among the 
 young. The clergy did not begin by attempting to 
 win the people back solely through spiritual influences. 
 They knew that education would not be likely to in- 
 crease the faith of the young ; but they hoped that 
 
288 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 knowledge would inevitably create a desire for 
 something to relieve the dull monotony of their lives, 
 and, so hoping, turned their energies towards devel- 
 oping the means of providing them with intellectual 
 and social interests. The results have been great, 
 and are increasing ; for the effect of the Education 
 Act has been to bring the clergy much more into 
 contact with the people than they were under the 
 old state of things. The clergyman of a parish is 
 now brought into many varied relations with his 
 parishioners, especially with the young. He meets 
 them daily at the club or at classes, on the cricket 
 ground, in the concert room, in the debating society ; 
 he encourages them to be thrifty ; his advice is sought 
 on the most important matters ; and, now that his chief 
 function is no longer that of driving many to school 
 and all to Church, he is the real counsellor and father 
 of his people. The School Board visitor has inherited 
 much of the unwelcome duty, formerly imposed on the 
 clergyman, of forcing education on the unwilling. The 
 clergy of the Church of England, in realising the neces- 
 sity of making the Church of England in very word 
 and truth the Church of the people, and themselves the 
 servants of the people, have strengthened their in- 
 stitution, and more than regained the position they had 
 apparently lost. 
 
 It is not, however, by any means solely through 
 endeavouring to interest their people, and raise their 
 standard of comfort and amusement, that the clergy 
 have made their power felt. They have never pandered 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 289 
 
 to vice or weakness. They have been outspoken in 
 attacking drunkenness, the most deadly foe of the 
 English poor, and in carrying the crusade of temper- 
 ance into the lowest slums. Of all the efforts made by 
 the clergy none is bearing such striking fruits as that 
 in the cause of temperance. There is not a parish in 
 London where there are not hundreds of young men 
 and women members of the Blue Ribbon Army, and a 
 larger number of children members of the Band of 
 Hope ; and, although not much can be done to counter- 
 act intemperance among the older generation who have 
 contracted habits of drunkenness, what the clergy have 
 d one and are doing in striving to make the rising gene- 
 ration teetotallers must have an enormous influence 
 for good on the future working men and women of 
 England. No battle has ever been fought against 
 odds greater than those which have had to be over- 
 come in the cause of temperance. The struggle is not 
 over; but the cause is gaining ground every day, 
 and winning recruits. What of prosperity and great- 
 ness England may gain in the future from the success 
 of the movement she will owe in no small measure to 
 the clergy of the Church of England. 
 
 It is generally believed that the influence of the 
 clergy is on the side of early marriages, and apparently 
 it often is. The position, however, in which a clergy- 
 man finds himself when two people (children almost in 
 years, and certainly in experience and sense) come ask- 
 ing him to marry them is painful and difficult. He is 
 quite aware that no argument he can use will prevent 
 
290 THE CREED OF THE POOR. 
 
 them from taking the step they meditate. Knowing that 
 he is powerless to induce them even to pause, how can 
 he refuse to marry them, feeling convinced, as he does, 
 that amid those circumstances they would dispense 
 with the sanction of the Church ? If he does refuse, 
 they may possibly go to the registrar ; but more pro- 
 bably they will dispense with ceremony. The question 
 of the influence of religious beliefs and of the clergy 
 on early marriages cannot now be discussed at length. 
 The solution of this difficult problem is to be found, it 
 found at all, not in the direct influence of religion, but 
 in the growth of social and other influences which the 
 ministers of religion foster. 
 
 It must not be supposed that, in dwelling on the 
 work of the clergy of the Church of England among 
 the poor, we ignore or depreciate the efforts of the 
 Roman Catholic and the Nonconformist clergy. In 
 endeavouring to estimate the religion of the poor, and 
 to indicate the probable effect of the efforts of the 
 largest and richest body of clergy in the country, we 
 do not for a moment deny that the efforts of the 
 ministers of other religious bodies, with which we are 
 less well acquainted, are equally zealous and devoted ; 
 but, speaking of the Church of England clergy as a 
 body, we maintain that practical observation will con- 
 vince anyone who is willing to observe that their 
 position as men devoted to the welfare of those 
 committed to their charge, and as almoners of much 
 of the charity of the nation, has produced great and 
 almost unmixed benefit to the poor. We venture to 
 
THE CREED OF THE POOR. 291 
 
 claim for them, too, that they have followed the spirit 
 of the age, and, clinging not too slavishly to the form, 
 have held firm to the spirit, of the Christian religion. 
 
 Of this body of clergy we believe it may be truly 
 said that the work of their lives has been to strive to 
 diminish human suffering, and to bring the sympathy 
 and riches of others to those whose lots are devoid 
 of sunshine. To say they have made mistakes is only 
 to say that they are mortal. Their standard has been 
 high ; and they have, to the best of their abilities, 
 endeavoured to carry out the mission ordained for 
 them by their Master, that they should "visit the 
 widows and fatherless in their afflictions, and keep 
 themselves unspotted from the world." 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 U 2 
 
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