Part 79

“Our preachers seem to be _afraid_ of ascertaining the sentiments, feelings, and habits of the more wretched part of the population; and, without this, their words will die away upon the wind, and no practical echo answer their addresses.

“It will, perhaps, relieve the monotony of this statement if I give an illustration communicated to me by a person well acquainted to determine the merits of the question.

“Your readers will probably recollect the opposition experienced by Dr. Hampden on his promotion to the bishopric of Hereford. Shortly after the affair was settled, his lordship accepted an invitation to preach on behalf of the schools connected with the ‘ten new churches’ of Bethnal-green. The church selected for the purpose was the one on Friar’s-mount. It was one July Sunday in 1849, and, as I well remember, the morning was very wet; but, supposing the curiosity, or better motives, of the public would induce a large congregation, I went to the church at half-past ten. The free-seats occupying the middle aisle were all filled, and chiefly with persons of the lowest and worst classes, many of whom I personally knew, and was agreeably surprised to find them in such a place.

“I sat in the midst of the group, and at the elbow of a tall attenuated beggar, known by the name of ‘Lath and Plaster,’ of whom it is but justice to say that he repeated the responsive parts of the service very correctly. It is true he could not read; but having ‘larned a few prayers’ in the ‘Downs’ (Tothill-fields prison), ‘he always sed ’em, night and morning, if he wasn’t drunk, and then he sed ’em _twice_ next day, ’cos,’ reasoned he, ‘I likes to rub off as I goes on.’

“In course of time, the bishop made his appearance in the pulpit. His subject was neglected education, and he illustrated it from the history of Eli.

“I thought proper to hang back, and observe the group as they passed out of church. There was Tailor Tom, and Brummagem Dick, and Keate-street Nancy, and Davy the Duke, and Stationer George, and at least two dozen more, most of whom were miserably clad, and several apparently without a shirt. They were not, however, without halfpence; and as I was well known to several of the party, and flattered as being ‘a very knowledgeable man,’ I was invited to the Cat and Bagpipes afterwards, to ‘have share of what was going.’

“I was anxious,” continues my informant, “to learn from my companions their opinion of the right reverend prelate. They thought, to use their own words, ‘he was a jolly old brick.’ But did they think he was sound in opinion about the Trinity, or was he (as alleged) a Unitarian? They did not even understand the meaning of these words. All they _did_ understand was, that ‘a top-sawyer parson at Oxford, called Dr. Pussy,’ had ‘made himself disagreeable,’ and that some of the bishops and nobility had ‘jined him;’ that these had persecuted Dr. Hampden, because he was ‘more cleverer’ than themselves; and that Lord John Russell, who, generally speaking, was ‘a regular muff,’ had ‘acted like a man’ in this instance, and ‘he ought to be commended for it; and,’ added the man who pronounced the above sentiment, ‘_it’s just a picture of ourselves_.’ To other ears than mine, the closing remark would have appeared impertinent, but I ‘tumbled to’ it immediately. It was a case of oppression; and whether the oppressors belonged to Oxford University or to Scotland-yard militated nothing against the aphorism: ‘it’s just a picture of ourselves!’

“It seems to me that these poor creatures understood the _circumstances_ better than they did the sermon; and my inference is, that whether from the parochial pulpit, or the missionary exhortation, or in the printed form of a tract, those who wish to produce a practical effect must themselves be practical men. I, who have been in the Christian ministry, and am familiar, unhappily, with the sufferings of men of every grade among the outcast, would say: ‘If you wish to do these poor outcasts real good, you must mould your language to their ideas, get hold of their common phrases--those which tell so powerfully when they are speaking to each other--let them have their own _fashion_ of things, and, where it does not interfere with order and decency, use yourselves language which their unpolished minds will appreciate; and then, having gained their entire confidence, and, perhaps, their esteem, you may safely strike home, though it be as with a sledge-hammer, and they will even ‘love you for the smart.’

“The temperance movement next claims attention, and I doubt not that much crime and degradation has been prevented by total abstinence from all intoxicating drinks; but I would rather raise the tone of moral feeling by intelligent and ennobling means than by those spasmodic efforts, which are without deliberation, and often without permanency. The object sought to be obtained, however, is good,--so is the motive,--and I leave to others to judge what means are most likely to secure it.

“I may also allude, as another means of reformation, to the Ragged-schools which are now studding the localities of the poorest neighbourhoods. The object of these schools is, one would hope, to take care of the uncared for, and to give instruction to those who would be otherwise running wild and growing up as a pest to society. A few instances of real reform stand, however, in juxtaposition with many of increased hardihood. I, as a man, seeing those who resort to ragged-schools, cannot understand the propriety of insulting an honest though ragged boy by classing him with a young thief; or the hope of improving the juvenile female character where the sexes are brought in promiscuous contact, and left unrestrained on their way home to say and do everything subversive of the good instruction they have received.” [It is right I should here state, that these are my informant’s own unbiassed sentiments, delivered without communication with myself on the subject. I say thus much, because, my own opinions being known, it might perhaps appear as if I had exerted some influence over the judgment of my correspondent.]

“The most efficient means of moral reform among the street-folk, appear to have been consulted by those who, in Westminster and other places, have opened institutions cheaper, but equally efficient, as the mechanics’ institutes of the metropolis. In these, for one farthing per night, three-halfpence a week, or sixpence a month, lectures, exhibitions, newspapers, &c., are available to the _very_ poor. These, and such as these, I humbly but earnestly would commend to public sympathy and support, believing that, under the auspices of heaven, they may ‘deliver the outcast and poor’ from their own mistaken views and practices, and make them ornamental to that society to which they have long been expensive and dangerous.”

Another laudable attempt to improve the condition of the poorer class is by the erection of model lodging-houses. The plan which induced this measure was good, and the success has been tolerable; but I am inclined to think the management of these houses, as well as their internal regulation, is scarcely what their well-meaning founders designed. The principal of these buildings is in George-street, St. Giles’s; the building is spacious and well ventilated, there is a good library, and the class of lodgers very superior to what might be expected. This latter circumstance makes the house in question scarcely admissible to the catalogue of reformed lodging-houses for the _very_ poor.

“The next ‘model lodging-house’ in importance is the one in Charles-street, Drury-lane. This, from personal observation (having lodged in it more than four months),” says my informant, “I can safely say (so far as social reform is concerned), is a miserable failure. The bed-rooms are clean, but the sitting-room, though large, is the scene of dirt and disorder. Noise, confusion, and intemperance abound from morning till night.

“There is a model lodging-house in Westminster, the private property of Lord Kinnaird. It is generally well conducted. His lordship’s agent visits the place once a week. There is an almost profuse supply of cooking utensils and other similar comforts. There are, moreover, two spacious reading-rooms, abundance of books and periodicals, and every lodger, on payment of 6_d._, is provided with two lockers--one in his bed-room, and the other below-stairs. The money is returned when the person leaves the house. There is divine service every day, conducted by different missionaries, and twice on Sundays. Attendance on these services is optional; and as there are two ways of ingress and egress, the devout and undevout need not come in contact with each other. The kitchen is very large and detached from the house. The master of this establishment is a man well fitted for his situation. He is a native of Saffron Walden in Essex, where his father farmed his own estate. He received a superior education, and has twice had a fortune at his own disposal. He _did_ dispose of it, however; and ‘after many roving years,’ as a ‘traveller,’ ‘lurker,’ and ‘patterer,’ he has settled down in his present situation, and maintained it with great credit for a considerable period. The beds in this house are only 3_d._ per night, and no small praise is due to Lord Kinnaird for the superiority of this ‘model’ over others of the same denomination.

“Such are a few of the principal of these establishments. Giving every credit to their founders, however, for purity and even excellence of motive, I doubt if ‘model lodging-houses,’ as at present conducted, are likely to accomplish much real good for those who get their living in the streets. Ever and anon they are visited by dukes and bishops, lords and ladies, who march in procession past every table, scrutinise every countenance, make their remarks upon the quantity and quality of food, and then go into the lobby, sign their names, jump into their carriages, and drive away, declaring that ‘after all’ there is not so much poverty in London as they supposed.

“The poor inmates of these houses, moreover,” adds my informant, “are kept in bondage, and made to _feel_ that bondage, to the almost annihilation of old English independence. It is thought by the managers of these establishments, and with some share of propriety, that persons who get their living by any honest means may get home and go to bed, according to strict rule, at a certain prescribed hour--in one house it is ten o’clock, in the others eleven. But many of the best-conducted of these poor people, if they be street-folk, are at those very hours in the height of their business, and have therefore to pack up their goods, and carry homeward their cumbersome and perhaps heavy load a distance usually varying from two or three to six or seven miles. _If they are a minute beyond time, they are shut out, and have to seek lodgings in a strange place. On their return next morning, they are charged for the bed they were prevented from occupying, and if they demur they are at once expelled!_ Thus the ‘model’ lodgers are kept, as it were, in leading-strings, and triumphed over by lords and ladies, masters and matrons, who, while they pique themselves on the efforts they are making to ‘better the condition of the poor,’ are making them their slaves, and driving them into unreasonable thraldom; while the rich and noble managers, reckless of their own professed benevolence, are making the poor poorer, by adding insult to wretchedness. If my remarks upon these establishments appear,” adds the writer of the above remarks, “to be invidious, it is only in ‘appearance’ that they are so. I give their promoters credit for the best intentions, and, as far as sanitary and moral measures are concerned, I rejoice in the benefit while suggesting the improvement.

“Everything even moderately valuable has its counterfeit. We have counterfeit money, counterfeit virtue, counterfeit modesty, counterfeit religion, and last, but not least, ‘counterfeit model lodging-houses.’ Many private adventurers have thus dignified their domiciles, and some of them highly merit the distinction, while with others it is only a cloak for greater uncleanliness and grosser immorality.

“There has come to my knowledge the case of one man, who owns nearly a dozen of these dens of infamy, in one of which a poor girl under fifteen was lately ruined by a gray-headed monster, who, according to the pseudo-‘model’ regulations, slept in an adjoining bed. The sham model-houses to which I more particularly allude,” says my correspondent, “are in Short’s-gardens, Drury-lane; Mill-yard, Cable-street; Keate-street, Flower and Dean-street, Thrawl-street, Spitalfields; Plough-court, Whitechapel; and Union-court, Holborn. All of these are, _without exception_, twopenny brothels, head-quarters of low-lived procuresses, and resorts of young thieves and prostitutes. Each of the houses is managed by a ‘deputy,’ who receives an income of 8_s._ 2_d._ per week, out of which he has to provide coke, candles, soap, &c. Of course it is impossible to do this from such small resources, and the men consequently increase their salaries by ‘taking in couples for a little while,’ purchasing stolen goods, and other nefarious practices. _Worse than all, the person owning these houses is a member of a strict Baptist church, and the son of a deceased minister. He lives in great splendour in one of the fashionable streets in Pimlico._

“It still remains for me,” my correspondent continues, “to contemplate the best agency for promoting the reformation of the poor. The ‘City Mission,’ if properly conducted, as it brings many good men in close contact with the ‘outcast and poor,’ might be made productive of real and extensive good. Whether it has done so, or done so to any extent, is perhaps an open question. Our town missionary societies sprang up when our different Christian denominations were not fully alive to the apprehension of their own duties to their poorer brethren, who were lost to principle, conscience, and society. That the object of the London City Mission is most noble, needs no discussion, and admits of no dispute. The method of carrying out this great object is by employing agents, who are required to give their whole time to the work, without engaging in any secular concerns of life; and regarding the operation of the work so done, I must say that great good has resulted from the enterprise. At the commencement of the labours of the Mission in any particular locality great opposition was manifested, and a great amount of prejudice, with habits of the most immoral kind--openly carried on without any public censure--had to be overcome. The statements of the missionaries have from time to time been published, and lie recorded against us as a nation, of the glaring evils and ignorance of a vast portion of our people. It is principally owing to the city missionaries that the other portions of society have known what they now do of the practices and habits of the poor; it is principally due to their exertions that schools have been established in connection with their labours; and the Ragged-schools--one of the principal movements of the last few years--are mainly to be attributed to their efforts.

“A man,” says my informant in conclusion, “can receive little benefit from a thing he does not understand; the talk which will do for the senate will not do for the cottage, and the argument which will do for the study will not do for the man who spends all his spare time in a public-house. These remarks will apply to the distribution of tracts, which should be couched in the very language that is used by the people to whom they are addressed; then the ideas will penetrate their understanding. Some years back I met with an old sailor in a lodging-house in Westminster, who professed a belief that there had _once_ been a God, but that he was either dead, or grown old and diseased. He did not dispute the inspiration of the Bible. He believed that there had been revelations made to our forefathers when God was alive and active, but that now the Almighty did not ‘fash’ (trouble) himself about his creatures at all!

“I endeavoured to instruct the man in his own rude language and ideas; and after he had thus been made to comprehend the doctrine of the Atonement, he said, ‘I see it all plain enough--though I’ve liked a drop o’ drink, and been a devil among the gals, and all that, in my time, if I’ll humble myself I can have it all wiped off; and, as the song says, “We may be happy yet,” because, as the saying is, it’s all square with God A’mighty.’ Whether the sailor permanently reformed, I am unable to say, for I lost sight of him shortly after; at any rate he _understood_ the subject, and was thus qualified to profit by it. And what can the teachers of Christianity among the British heathen--herded together in courts and alleys--tell their poor ignorant hearers better than the old sailor’s aphorism, ‘You have, indeed, gone astray from your greatest and best Friend, but, if you so desire, “You may be happy yet,” because it’s all square with God A’mighty?’

“Before quitting this subject, I would add, if you really wish to do these poor creatures good, you must remember that your instructions are not intended for so-called fashionable society, but for those who have a fashion of their own. If you lose sight of this fact, your words will die away upon the wind, and no echo in the hearts of these poor people will answer your addresses.”

The above observations are from the pen of one who has not only had the means, but is likewise possessed of the power, of judging as to the effect of the several plans (now in course of operation) for the reformation and improvement of the London poor. I have given the comments in the writer’s own language, because I was anxious that the public should know the opinions of the best informed of the street-people themselves on this subject; and I trust I need not say that I have sought in no way to influence my correspondent’s judgment.

I now subjoin a communication from a clergyman in the country, touching the character of the tramps and lurkers frequenting his neighbourhood, together with some suggestions concerning the means of improving the condition of the London poor. These I append, because it is advisable that in so difficult a matter the sentiments of every one having sufficient experience, judgment, and heart to fit him to speak on the subject should be calmly attended to, so that amid much counsel there may be at least some little wisdom.

“The subject of the welfare of our poorer brethren was one which engaged much of my attention twenty years ago, when studying for the bar at Lincoln’s Inn, before I entered into orders; and the inquiries, &c., then made by me in reference to London, are recalled by many of your pages. I have pursued the same course, according to my limited means and opportunities (for my _benefice_, like thousands of others, is but 100_l._ a-year) in this neighbourhood, and there are very many of my clerical brethren, also, deeply anxious and exerting their means for the country poor. The details given in your numbers as to the country tramps and patterers, I can fully corroborate from personal experience and knowledge, so far as the country part of it. We _never_ give money to beggars here, on any pretence whatever. We never give clothes. We never give relief to a _naked_ or _half-naked_ man if we can avoid it (the imposture is too barefaced). Medicine I _do_ give occasionally to the sick, or pretended sick, and _see_ them take it. Every beggar may have _dry bread_, or three or four tracts to sell, but never both. I know we are even thus _often_ imposed on; but it is better to run this risk than to turn away, by chance, a starving man; and I do see the mendicants often sit down on a field near, and eat the dry bread with ravenous look. The tramps sometimes come to church on Sunday, and _then_ beg: but we never give even bread on Sunday, because on that day they can get help at the Union workhouse, and it only tempts idlers. Sometimes we are days without a beggar, and then there will be ten to twenty per day, and then all at once the stream stops. There are no tramp lodging-houses in my parish (which is a village of 600 or 700 people). Most of the burglaries hereabouts seem connected with some inroad of tramps into the neighbourhood. The lodging-houses are very bad in some of the small towns near, but somehow the magistrates cannot get them put down. The gentry are alive here to the evil of crowded cottages, &c., and are using efforts to build better and more decent ones. But the evil results from the little landowners, who have an acre or two, or less, and build rows of cottages on them of the scantiest dimensions, at high rents,--ten per cent. on the cost of building. The rents of the gentry and nobility are very moderate to the poor, viz., scarcely two per cent. (beyond the yearly repairs) on the market value of the cottage.

“In 1832 I succeeded in getting land allotments for the poor here, and most of the parishes round have followed our example since. The success _to the poor_ has always depended on the rent being a _real_ rent, such as is paid by the land round about, and on the rules of good management and of payment of rent being rigidly enforced.

“The character of the poor of England _must_ be raised, as well as their independence. They must not be left to lean on charity. I am sure that the sterling worth of the English character can only be raised by that means _to the surface_ of society among the poor. The “English” is a fine material, but the poor neither value, nor are benefited, by mawkish nonsense or excessive feeling.

“I believe this parish was one of the most fearfully demoralized twenty years ago. It was said there was not _one_ young female cottager of virtuous character. There was not one man who was not, or had not been, a drunkard; and theft, fighting, &c., &c., were universal. It is greatly better now--totally different--and I attribute the change to the land allotments, the provident society, the village horticultural society, the lending library, the clothing club, the coal club, the cultivating a taste for music, &c., &c., as subsidiary to the more directly pastoral work of a clergyman, and the schools, &c.

“I am probably visionary in my ideas, but the perusal of your pages has led me to think that, were I clergyman of a parish where the street-folks _lived_, I should aim at some schemes of this style, in addition to the benefit society and loan society (the last _most_ important) as proposed by yourself.

“(1) To get music taught at 1/2_d._ a week, or something of the kind--_a ragged-school music-room_, if the people would learn gratis, would be still better--as a _step_ to a “superior” music class at 1_d._ per week.

“(2) To get the poor to adorn their rooms _plentifully_ with a better class of pictures--of places, of people, of natural history, and of historical and religious subjects--just as they might like, and a circulating library for pictures if they preferred change. This I find takes with the village poor. Provide these things excessively cheap for them--at _nominal prices_, just high enough to prevent them being _sold_ at a profit by the poor.