METROPOLITAN PAUPERISM.
_Parochial Statistics_—_The Public hold the Purse-strings_—_Cannot the
Agencies actually at work be made to yield greater results_?—_The Need of
fair Rating_—_The heart and core of the Poor-law Difficulty_—_My foremost
thought when I was a_ “_Casual_”—_Who are most liable to
slip_?—“_Crank-work_”—_The Utility of Labour-yards_—_Scales of
Relief_—_What comes of breaking-up a Home_.
THE following is a return of the number of paupers (exclusive of lunatics
in asylums and vagrants) on the last day of the fifth week of April 1869,
and total of corresponding week in 1868:
Unions and single Paupers. Corresponding
Parishes (the Total in
latter marked *). 1868.
In-door. Out-door. Total 5th
Adults and week Apr.
Children. 1869.
Adults. Children
under 16.
WEST DISTRICT:
* Kensington 809 1,379 1,545 3,733 2,874
Fulham 364 988 696 2,048 1,537
* Paddington 460 1,004 660 2,124 1,846
* Chelsea 702 896 744 2,342 2,272
* St. George, 753 852 642 2,247 2,127
Hanover-square
* St. Margaret 1,131 1,791 1,313 4,285 5,742
and St. John
Westminster 1,101 749 558 2,408 1,874
Total of West 5,320 7,659 6,158 19,137 18,272
Dist.
NORTH DISTRICT:
* St. 2,221 2,587 1,374 6,182 5,902
Marylebone
* Hampstead 143 126 57 326 347
* St. Pancras 2,141 3,915 2,847 8,903 8,356
* Islington 909 1,996 1,590 4,495 4,792
Hackney 695 2,909 2,952 6,556 5,385
Total of North 6,109 11,533 8,820 26,462 24,782
Dist.
CENTRAL DISTRICT:
*St. Giles and 869 587 538 1,994 2,246
St. George,
Bloomsbury
Strand 1,054 647 387 2,088 3,069
Holborn 554 947 781 2 282 2,724
Clerkenwell 713 999 642 2,354 2,863
* St. Luke 965 1,245 1,045 3,255 3,165
East London 838 1,038 906 2,782 2,813
West London 598 701 542 1,841 1,965
City of London 1,034 1,191 632 2,857 3,019
Total of Central 6,625 7,355 5,473 19,453 21,864
D.
EAST DISTRICT:
* Shoreditch 1,440 1,966 1,770 5,176 5,457
* Bethnal Green 1,510 1,265 1,389 4,164 5,057
Whitechapel 1,192 1,234 1,700 4,126 4,315
* St. 1,192 1,585 1,565 4,342 3,967
George-in-the-
E.
Stepney 1,072 1,600 1,533 4,205 4,650
* Mile End Old 547 1,228 1,055 2,830 2,705
Town
Poplar 1,014 2,807 2,793 6,614 9,169
Total of East 7,967 11,685 11,805 31,457 35,320
Dist.
SOUTH DISTRICT:
St. Saviour, 537 678 678 1,893 2,000
Southwk.
St. Olave, 478 393 464 1,335 1,349
Southwark
* Bermondsey 712 554 752 2,018 1,860
* St. George, 660 1,260 1,646 3,566 4,120
Southwk.
* Newington 891 1,450 1,330 3,671 3,676
* Lambeth 1,503 2,777 3,401 7,681 8,369
Wandsworth & 887 1,678 1,439 4,004 3,876
Clapham
* Camberwell 865 1,537 1,492 3,894 3,360
* Rotherhithe 288 638 518 1,444 1,338
Greenwich 1,447 2,799 2,314 6,560 5,933
Woolwich — 2,506 2,173 4,679 3,110
Lewisham 320 595 394 1,309 1,253
Total of South 8,588 16,865 16,601 42,054 40,244
Dist.
Total of the 34,609 55,097 48,857 138,563 140,482
Metropolis
* * * * *
TOTAL PAUPERISM OF THE METROPOLIS.
(Population in 1861, 2,802,000.)
YEARS. Number of Paupers. Total.
In-door. Out-door.
Fifth week of April 1869 34,609 103,954 138,563
„ „ „ 1868 34,455 106,027 140,482
„ „ „ 1867 32,728 96,765 129,493
„ „ „ 1866 30,192 71,372 101,564
This as regards parochial charity. It must not be imagined, however,
from this source alone flows all the relief that the nation’s humanity
and benevolence provides for the relief of its poor and helpless.
Besides our parochial asylums there are many important charities of
magnitude, providing a sum of at least 2,000,000_l._ a-year for the
relief of want and suffering in London, independently of legal and local
provision to an amount hardly calculable. We content ourselves with
stating one simple fact—that all this charity, as now bestowed and
applied, fails to accomplish the direct object in view. If the
2,000,000_l._ thus contributed did in some way or other suffice, in
conjunction with other funds, to banish want and suffering from the
precincts of the metropolis, we should have very little to say. But the
fact is that, after all these incredible efforts to relieve distress,
want and suffering are so prevalent that it might be fancied charity was
dead amongst us. Now that, at any rate, cannot be a result in which
anybody would willingly acquiesce. If the money was spent, and the poor
were relieved, many people probably would never trouble themselves to
inquire any further; but though the money is spent, the poor are not
cured of their poverty. In reality this very fact is accountable in
itself for much of that accumulation of agencies, institutions, and
efforts which our statistics expose. As has been recently remarked: “A
certain expenditure by the hands of a certain society fails to produce
the effect anticipated, and so the result is a new society, with a new
expenditure, warranted to be more successful. It would be a curious item
in the account if the number and succession of fresh charities, year
after year, could be stated. They would probably be found, like
religious foundations, taking some new forms according to the discoveries
or presumptions of the age; but all this while the old charities are
still going on, and the new charity becomes old in its turn, to be
followed, though not superseded, by a fresh creation in due time.”
If it be asked what, under such circumstances, the public can be expected
to do, we answer, that it may really do much by easy inquiry and natural
conclusions. Whenever an institution is supported by voluntary
contributions, the contributors, if they did but know it, have the entire
control of the establishment in their hands; they can stop the supplies,
they hold the purse, and they can stipulate for any kind of information,
disclosure, or reform at their pleasure. They can exact the publication
of accounts at stated intervals, and the production of the balance-sheet
according to any given form. It is at their discretion to insist upon
amalgamation, reorganisation, or any other promising measure. There is
good reason for the exercise of these powers. We have said that all this
charity fails to accomplish its one immediate object—the relief of the
needy; but that is a very imperfect statement of the case. The fact is
that pauperism, want, and suffering are rapidly growing upon us in this
metropolis, and we are making little or no headway against the torrent.
The administration of the Poor-law is as unsuccessful as that of private
benevolence. Legal rates, like voluntary subscriptions, increase in
amount, till the burden can hardly be endured; and still the cry for aid
continues. Is nothing to be done, then, save to go on in the very course
which has proved fruitless? Must we still continue giving, when giving
to all appearances does so little good? It would be better to survey the
extent and nature of agencies actually at work, and to see whether they
cannot be made to yield greater results.
Confining ourselves, however, to what chiefly concerns the hardly-pressed
ratepayers of the metropolis, its vagrancy and pauperism, there at once
arises the question, How can this enormous army of helpless ones be
provided for in the most satisfactory manner?—This problem has puzzled
the social economist since that bygone happy age when poor-rates were
unknown, and the “collector” appeared in a form no more formidable than
that of the parish priest, who, from his pulpit, exhorted his
congregation to give according to their means, and not to forget the
poor-box as they passed out.
It is not a “poor-box” of ordinary dimensions that would contain the
prodigious sums necessary to the maintenance of the hundred thousand
ill-clad and hungry ones that, in modern times, plague the metropolis.
Gradually the sum-total required has crept up, till, at the present time,
it has attained dimensions that press on the neck of the striving people
like the Old Man of the Sea who so tormented Sinbad, and threatened to
strangle him.
In London alone the cost of relief has doubled since 1851. In that year
the total relief amounted to 659,000_l._; in 1858 it had increased to
870,000_l._; in 1867 to 1,180,000_l._; and in 1868 to 1,317,000_l._ The
population within this time has increased from 2,360,000 to something
like 3,100,000, the estimated population at the present time; so that
while the population has increased by only 34 per cent, the cost of
relief has exactly doubled. Thirteen per cent of the whole population of
London were relieved as paupers in 1851, and in 1868 the percentage had
increased to 16. In 1861 the Strand Union had a decreasing population of
8,305, and in 1868 it relieved one in every five, or 20 per cent, of that
population. Besides this, the cost of relief per head within the
workhouse had much increased within the last 15 years. The cost of food
consumed had increased from 2_s._ 9_d._ per head, per week, in 1853, to
4_s._ 11_d._ in 1868; while we have the authority of Mr. Leone Levi for
the statement that a farm-labourer expended only 3_s._ a-week on food for
himself.
In 1853 the population of England and Wales was in round numbers
18,404,000, and in 1867 21,429,000, being an increase of 3,000,000. The
number of paupers, exclusive of vagrants, in receipt of relief in England
and Wales was, in 1854, 818,000, and in 1868 1,034,000, showing an
increase of 216,000. The total amount expended in relief to the poor and
for other purposes, county and police-rates, &c., was, in 1853,
6,854,000_l._, and in 1867 10,905,000_l._, showing an increase of
4,000,000_l._ This total expenditure was distributable under two heads.
The amount expended in actual relief to the poor was, in 1853,
4,939,000_l._, as against 6,959,000_l._ in 1867, being an increase of
2,020,000_l._ The amount expended, on the other hand, for other
purposes, county- and police-rates, &c., was, in 1853, 1,915,000_l._,
against 3,945,000_l._ in 1867.
And now comes the vexed question, Who are the people who, amongst them,
in the metropolis alone, contribute this great sum of _thirteen hundred
thousand pounds_, and in what proportion is the heavy responsibility
divided? This is the most unsatisfactory part of the whole business.
If, as it really appears, out of a population of two millions and
three-quarters there must be reckoned a hundred and forty thousand who
from various causes are helpless to maintain themselves, nothing remains
but to maintain them; at the same time it is only natural that every man
should expect to contribute his fair share, and no more. But this is by
no means the prevailing system. Some pay twopence; others tenpence, as
the saying is.
By an examination of the statistics as to the relative contributions of
the different unions, we find the discrepancy so great as to call for
early and urgent legislation; and despite the many and various arguments
brought to bear against amalgamation and equalisation, there is no other
mode of dealing with this great and important question that appears more
just, or more likely to lead to the wished-for result. That the reader
may judge for himself of the magnitude of the injustice that exists under
the present system will not require much more evidence than the following
facts will supply. The metropolis is divided into five districts, and
these again into unions to the number of six-and-thirty, many of which in
their principal characteristics differ greatly from each other. We find
the West and Central Districts relieve each between 19,000 and 20,000
poor, the Eastern District about 32,000, and the North District some
27,000; but the Southern District by far exceeds the rest, as the report
states that there are in receipt of relief no less than 43,000 paupers.
These bare statistics, however, though they may appear at first sight to
affect the question, do not influence it so much as might be imagined;
the weight of the burden is determined by the proportion that the
property on which the poor-rate is levied bears to the expenditure in the
different unions. For example, St. George’s, Hanover-square, contributes
about the same amount (viz. 30,000_l._) to the relief of paupers as St.
George’s-in-the-East; but take into consideration the fact that the
western union contains a population of about 90,000, and property at the
ratable value of nearly 1,000,000_l._, and the eastern union has less
than 50,000 inhabitants, and the estimated value of the property is only
180,000_l._; the consequence is that the poor-rate in one union is
upwards of five times heavier than the other, being 8_d._ in the pound in
St. George’s, Hanover-square, and no less than 3_s._ 5¾_d._ in St.
George’s-in-the-East. The reader may imagine that this great discrepancy
may arise in some degree from the fact that the two unions mentioned are
at the extreme ends of the metropolis; but even where unions are
contiguous to one another the same contrasts are found. The City of
London is situated between the unions of East London and West London: in
the two latter the rates are not very unequal, being about 2_s._ 11_d._
in one and 3_s._ 1_d._ in the other; but in the City of London, one of
the richest of the thirty-six unions in the metropolis, the poor-rate is
only 7_d._ in the pound. The cause of this is that, if the estimates are
correct, the City of London Union contains just ten times the amount of
rateable property that the East London does, the amounts being
1,800,000_l._ and 180,000_l._ respectively. Again, Bethnal Green does
not contribute so much as Islington, and yet its poor-rates are four
times as high. In general, however, we find that in unions contiguous to
one another, the rates do not vary in amount to any great extent. In the
North, for instance, they range from 1_s._ to 1_s._ 7_d._, Hampstead
being the exception, and below the shilling. In the South they are
rather higher, being from 1_s._ 2_d._ to 2_s._ 11_d._, Lewisham alone
being below the shilling. In the East, as might be expected, the figures
are fearfully high, all, with one exception, being above 2_s._ 6_d._, and
in the majority of cases exceeding 3_s._ Bethnal Green, that most
afflicted of all unions, is the highest, reaching the enormous sum of
3_s._ 11_d._ in the pound, being nearly seven times the amount of the
rate in the City of London. In the Central District, which is situated
in an intermediate position, the rates range from 1_s._ 11_d._ to 3_s._,
the City itself being excluded.
No one who reads the foregoing statistics can fail to be struck with the
inequality and mismanagement that they exhibit. No one can deny that
this state of affairs urgently needs some reorganisation or reform, for
who could defend the present system that makes the poor pay most, and the
rich least, towards the support and maintenance of our poor?
There appears to be a very general impression that the sum levied for the
relief of the poor goes entirely to the relief of the poor; but there is
a great distinction between the sum levied and the sum actually expended
for that purpose. Taking the average amount of poor-rates levied
throughout England and Wales for the same periods, it is found that for
the ten years ending 1860 the average was 7,796,019_l._; for the seven
years ending 1867, 9,189,386_l._; and for the latest year, 1868, when a
number of other charges were levied nominally under the same head,
11,054,513_l._ To gain an idea of the amount of relief afforded, it was
necessary to look to the amount which had actually been expended. For
the ten years ending 1860 the average amount expended for the relief of
the poor was 5,476,454_l._; for the seven years ending 1867,
6,353,000_l._; and in the latest year, 7,498,000_l._ Therefore the
amount actually expended in the relief of the poor was, in the ten years
ending 1860, at the average annual rate of 5_s._ 9½_d._ per head upon the
population; for the seven years ending 1867, 6_s._ 1_d._; and for the
year 1868, 6_s._ 11½_d._ The average number of paupers for the year
ending Lady-day 1849 was 1,088,659, while in 1868 they had decreased to
992,640. Thus, in 1849 there were 62 paupers for every 1,000 of the
population, and in 1868 there were but 46 for every 1,000, being 16 per
1,000 less in the latter than in the former year. In 1834, the rate per
head which was paid for the relief of the poor was 9_s._ 1_d._ If we
continued in 1868 to pay the same rate which was paid in 1849, the
amount, instead of being 6,960,000_l._ would be 9,700,000_l._, showing a
balance of 2,740,000_l._ in favour of 1868.
The very heart and core of the poor-law difficulty is to discriminate
between poverty deserving of help, and only requiring it just to tide
over an ugly crisis, and those male and female pests of every civilised
community whose natural complexion is dirt, whose brow would sweat at the
bare idea of earning their bread, and whose stock-in-trade is rags and
impudence. In his capacity of guardian of the casual ward, Mr. Bumble is
a person who has no belief in decent poverty. To his way of thinking,
poverty in a clean shirt is no more than a dodge intended to impose on
the well-known tenderness of his disposition. Penury in a tidy cotton
gown, to his keen discernment, is nothing better than “farden pride”—a
weakness he feels it is his bounden duty to snub and correct whenever he
meets with it. It is altogether a mistake to suppose that all the worthy
strivers in the battle for bread, and who, through misfortune and
sickness, sink in the rucks and furrows of that crowded field, find their
way, by a sort of natural “drainage system,” to the workhouse. There are
poorer folks than paupers. To be a pauper is at least to have a coat to
wear, none the less warm because it is made of gray cloth, and to have an
undisputed claim on the butcher and the baker. It is the preservers of
their “farden pride,” as Bumble stigmatises it, but which is really
bravery and noble patience, who are most familiar with the scratching at
their door of the gaunt wolf FAMINE; the hopeful unfortunates who are
content to struggle on, though with no more than the tips of their
unlucky noses above the waters of tribulation—to struggle and still
struggle, though they sink, rather than acknowledge themselves no better
than the repulsive mob of cadgers by profession Mr. Bumble classes them
with.
I have been asked many times since, when, on a memorable occasion, I
volunteered into the ranks of pauperism and assumed its regimentals, what
was the one foremost thought or anxiety that beset me as I lay in that
den of horror. Nothing can be more simple or honest than my answer to
that question. This was it—_What if it were true_? What if, instead of
your every sense revolting from the unaccustomed dreadfulness you have
brought it into contact with, it were your lot to grow used to, and
endure it all, until merciful death delivered you? What if these
squalid, unsightly rags, the story of your being some poor devil of an
engraver, who really could not help being desperately hard-up and shabby,
were all _real_? And why not? Since in all vast commercial communities
there must always exist a proportion of beggars and paupers, what have I
done that I should be exempt? Am I—are all of us here so comfortably
circumstanced because we deserve nothing less? What man dare rise and
say so? Why, there are a dozen slippery paths to the direst ways of
Poverty that the smartest among us may stumble on any day. Again, let us
consider who are they who are most liable to slip. Why, that very class
that the nation is so mightily proud of, and apt at bragging about! The
working man, with his honest horny hand and his broad shoulders, who
earns his daily bread by the sweat of his brow! We never tire of
expressing our admiration for the noble fellow. There is something so
manly, so admirable in an individual standing up, single-handed and
cheerful-hearted, and exclaiming, in the face of the whole world, “With
these two hands, and by the aid of the strength it has pleased God to
bless me with, my wife and my youngsters and myself eat, drink, and are
clothed, and no man can call me his debtor!” He is a fellow to admire;
we can afford to admire him, and we do—for just so long as he can
maintain his independence and stand without help. But should misfortune
in any of its hundred unexpected shapes assail him, should he fall sick
or work fail him, and he be unable to keep out the wolf that presently
eats up his few household goods, rendering him homeless, _then_ we turn
him and his little family over to the tender mercies of Mr. Bumble, who
includes him in the last batch of impostors and skulkers that have been
delivered to his keeping. I don’t say that, as matters are managed at
present, we can well avoid doing so; but that does not mitigate the poor
fellow’s hardship.
It is to be hoped that we are gradually emerging from our bemuddlement;
but time was, and that at no very remote period, when to be poor and
houseless and hungry were accounted worse sins against society than
begging or stealing, even—that is to say, if we may judge from the method
of treatment in each case pursued; for while the ruffian who lay wait for
you in the dark, and well-nigh strangled you for the sake of as much
money as you might chance to have in your pocket, or the brute who
precipitated his wife from a third-floor window, claimed and was entitled
to calm judicial investigation into the measure of his iniquity and its
deserving, the poor fellow who became a casual pauper out of sheer
misfortune and hard necessity was without a voice or a single friend.
The pig-headed Jack-in-office, whom the ratepayers employed and had
confidence in, had no mercy for him. They never considered that it was
_because_ he preferred to stave off the pangs of hunger by means of a
crust off a parish loaf rather than dine on stolen roast beef, that he
came knocking at the workhouse-gate, craving shelter and a mouthful of
bread! But _one_ idea pervaded the otherwise empty region that Bumble’s
cocked-hat covered, and that was, that the man who would beg a parish
loaf was more mean and contemptible than the one who, with a proper and
independent spirit, as well as a respect for the parochial purse, stole
one; and he treated his victim accordingly.
Vagrancy has been pronounced by the law to be a crime. Even if regarded
in its mildest and least mischievous aspect, it can be nothing less than
obtaining money under false pretences. It is solely by false pretences
and false representations that the roving tramp obtains sustenance from
the charitable. We have it on the authority of the chief constable of
Westmoreland, that ninety-nine out of every hundred professional
mendicants are likewise professional thieves, and practise either trade
as occasion serves. The same authority attributes to men of this
character the greater number of burglaries, highway robberies, and petty
larcenies, that take place; and gives it as his opinion, that if the
present system of permitting professional tramps to wander about the
country was done away with, a great deal of crime would be prevented, and
an immense good conferred on the community.
There can be no question that it is, as a member of parliament recently
expressed it, “the large charitable heart of the country” that is
responsible in great part for the enormous amount of misapplied alms.
People, in giving, recognised the fact that many of those whom they
relieved were impostors and utterly unworthy of their charity; but they
felt that if they refused to give, some fellow-creature, in consequence
of their refusal, might suffer seriously from the privations of hunger
and want of shelter. As long as they felt that their refusal might
possibly be attended with these results, so long would they open their
hand with the same readiness that they now did. The only remedy for this
is, that every destitute person in the country should find food and
shelter forthcoming immediately on application. Vagrancy, says the
authority here quoted, is partly the result of old habits and old times,
when the only question the tramp was asked was, “Where do you belong to?”
Instead of that being the first question, it should be the last. The
first question should be, “Are you in want, and how do you prove it?”
In 1858 the number of vagrants was 2416; in 1859, 2153; in 1860, 1941; in
1861, 2830; in 1862, 4234; in 1863, 3158; in 1864, 3339; in 1865, 4450;
in 1866, 5017; in 1867, 6129; and in 1868, 7946.
There can be no doubt, however, that a vast number of tramps circulate
throughout the country, of whom we have no returns. “Various means,”
says the writer above alluded to, “have been tried to check them, but in
vain. If I venture to recommend any remedy, it must be, that repression,
if applied, must be systematic and general. It is not of the slightest
use putting this repression in force in one part of the country while the
remainder is under a different system. The whole country must be under
the same general system, tending to the same general result. In the
first place, let all the inmates of the casual wards be placed under the
care of the police. Let them be visited by the police morning and night.
Let lists be made out and circulated through the country; and in no case,
except upon a ticket given by the police, let any relief be given more
than once; and unless a man is able to satisfy the police that his errand
was good, and that he was in search of work, let him be sent back
summarily without relief. It is the habit of all this class to make a
regular route, and they received relief at every casual ward, thus laying
the whole country under contribution.”
True as this argument may be in the main, we cannot take kindly to the
idea, that every unfortunate homeless wretch who applies at night to the
casual ward for a crust and shelter shall be treated as a professional
tramp until he prove himself a worthy object for relief.
It is not a little remarkable, that, however legislators may disagree as
to the general utility of the Poor-law under its present aspect, they are
unanimous in approving of the “labour test;” whereas, according to the
opportunities I have had of observing its working, it is, to my thinking,
one of the faultiest wheels in the whole machine. The great error
chiefly consists in the power it confers on each workhouse-master to
impose on the tested such work, both as regards quantity and quality, as
he may see fit. I have witnessed instances in which the “labour test,”
instead of proving a man’s willingness to work for what he receives,
rather takes the form of a barbarous tyranny, seemingly calculated as
nothing else than as a test of a poor fellow’s control of his temper.
Where is the use of testing a man’s willingness to work, if he is
compelled in the process to exhaust his strength and waste his time to an
extent that leaves him no other course but to seek for his hunger and
weariness to-night the same remedy as he had recourse to last night?
They manage these things better in certain parts of the country and in
model metropolitan parishes, but in others the “test” system is a mere
“farce.” I found it so at Lambeth in 1866; and when again I made a tour
of inspection, two years afterwards, precisely the same process was
enforced. This was it. At night, when a man applied for admittance to
the casual ward, he received the regulation dole of bread, and then went
to bed as early as half-past eight or nine. He was called up at seven in
the morning, and before eight received a bit more bread and a drop of
gruel. This was the “breakfast” with which he was fortified previous to
his displaying his prowess as a willing labourer.
The chief of the work done by the “casual” at the workhouse in question
is “crank-work.” The crank is a sort of gigantic hand-mill for grinding
corn. A series of “cranks” or revolving bars extend across the
labour-shed in a double or triple row, although by some means the result
of the joint labour of the full number of operatives, forty or fifty in
number, is concentrated at that point where the power is required. Let
us see how “crank-work” of this sort is applicable as a test of a man’s
willingness and industry.
It may be safely taken that of the, say, forty-five “casuals” assembled,
two-thirds, or thirty, will belong to that class that is, without doubt,
the very worst in the world—the hulking villanous sort, too lazy to work
and too cowardly to take openly to the trade of thieving, and who make an
easy compromise between the two states, enacting the parts of savage
bully or whining cadger, as opportunity serves. Thirty of these, and
fifteen real unfortunates who are driven to seek this shabby shelter only
by dire necessity. In the first place, we have to consider that the
out-and-out vagrant is a well-nurtured man, and possesses the full
average of physical strength; whereas the poor half-starved wretch, whose
poverty is to be pitied, is weak through long fasting and privation. But
no selection is made. Here is an extended crank-handle, at which six
willing men may by diligent application perform so much work within a
given time. It must be understood that the said work is calculated on
the known physical ability of the able-bodied as well as the
willing-minded man; and it is in this that the great injustice consists.
Let us take a single crank. It is in charge of six men, and, by their
joint efforts, a sack of corn, say, may be ground in an hour. But joint
effort is quite out of the question. Even while the taskmaster is
present the vagrants of the gang at the crank—four out of six, be it
remembered—will make but the merest pretence of grasping the bar and
turning it with energy; they will just close their hands about it, and
increase the labour of the willing minority by compelling them to lift
their lazy arms as well as the bar. But as soon as the taskmaster has
departed, even a pretence of work ceases. The vagrants simply stroll
away from the work and amuse themselves. Nevertheless, the work has to
be done; the sack of corn must be ground before the overnight batch of
casuals will be allowed to depart. But the vagrants are in no hurry; the
casual ward serves them as a sort of handy club-room in which to while
away the early hours of tiresome morning, and to discuss with each other
the most interesting topics of the day. It is their desire, especially
if it should happen to be a wet, cold, or otherwise miserable morning, to
“spin-out” the time as long as possible; and this they well know may best
be done by leaving the weak few to struggle through the work apportioned
to the many; and they are not of the sort to be balked when they are bent
in such a direction.
The result is, as may be frequently observed, that the labour-shed is not
cleared until nearly eleven o’clock in the morning, by which time the
honest and really industrious minority have proved their worthiness of
relief to an extent that leaves them scarcely a leg to stand on. They
have been working downright hard since eight o’clock. The slice of bread
and the drop of gruel they received in the morning is exhausted within
them; their shaky and enfeebled limbs are a-tremble with the unaccustomed
labour; and, it being eleven o’clock in the day, it is altogether too
late to hope to pick-up a job, and nothing remains for a poor fellow but
to saunter idly the day through, bemoaning the desperate penalty he is
compelled to pay for a mouthful of parish bread and the privilege of
reposing in an uncomfortable hovel, till night comes again, and once more
he is found waiting at the casual gate.
It may be said that no one desires this, that it is well understood by
all concerned that a workhouse is a place intended for the relief of the
really helpless and unable, and not for the sustenance of imposture and
vagrancy; but that under the present system it is impossible to avoid
such instances of injustice as that just quoted. This, however, is not
the case. It has been shown in numerous cases that it is possible to
economise pauper-labour so that it shall be fairly distributed, and at
the same time return some sort of profit.
It appears that in Liverpool and Manchester corn-grinding by _hand-mills_
is chiefly used, as a task for vagrants or able-bodied in-door poor. In
the absence of other more suitable employment, there is no reason why
they should not be so employed. As, however, but one person can be
employed at the same time on one mill, and the cost of each mill,
including fixing, may be roughly stated at from 3_l._ to 4_l._, it is
clear that no very large number of persons is likely to be thus employed
in any one yard. Despite this and other minor objections, however, it
appears that corn-grinding is as good a labour-test as you can have in
workhouses. It is not remunerative; it is a work that is disliked; it is
really hard; and being one by which there is no actual loss by
accumulation of unsaleable stock, it has much to commend it. At the
establishments in question a fairly strong able-bodied man is required to
grind 120 lbs. of corn daily, and this is sufficient to occupy him the
whole day. The male vagrants at Liverpool are required to grind 30 lbs.
of corn each at night, and 30 lbs. the following morning. At Manchester
the task for male vagrants is 45 lbs. each, of which one half is required
to be ground at night, and the remainder the next morning. At the
Liverpool workhouse they have 36 of these mills; at Manchester, 40 at the
new or suburban workhouse for able-bodied inmates, and 35 at the house of
industry adjoining the old workhouse. The mills at the latter are
chiefly used for vagrants, but upon these able-bodied men in receipt of
out-door relief are also occasionally employed. The ordinary task-work
for these last is, however, either farm-labour at the new workhouse, or
oakum-picking at the house of industry, according to the nature of their
former pursuits. During the cotton famine there was also a large
stone-yard, expressly hired and fitted-up for this class. Another large
building was set apart during that period for the employment of adult
females in receipt of relief in sewing and knitting, and in cutting-out
and making-up clothing; a stock of materials being provided by the
guardians, and an experienced female superintendent of labour placed in
charge of the establishment.
The experiment of selecting a limited number of men from the stone-yard,
and setting them to work in scavenging the streets, has now been tried
for rather more than six months by the vestry of St. Luke’s, City-road,
with a fair amount of success; the men (fifteen from the stone-yard, and
ten from the workhouse) were entirely withdrawn from the relief-lists,
and employed by the vestry at the same rate of wages as the contractor
who previously did the work was in the habit of paying. Of these men,
according to the latest report, fourteen are still thus employed, and
four have obtained other employment. The remaining seven were
discharged—three as physically incapable, and four for insubordination.
The conduct of the majority under strict supervision is said to have been
fairly good, though not first-rate; and it is undoubtedly something
gained to have obtained useful work from fourteen out of twenty-five, and
to have afforded four more an opportunity of maintaining themselves by
other independent labour.
At the same time it is clear that such a course is open to two
objections: first, it must have a tendency to displace independent
labour; and secondly, if these paupers are (as in St. Luke’s) at once
employed for wages, it would, unless guarded by making them pass through
a long probationary period of task-work, tend to encourage poor persons
out of employ to throw themselves on the rates, in order thus to obtain
remunerative employment. The better course would seem to be, where
arrangements can be made by the local authorities, for the local Board to
provide only the requisite implements and superintendence, and for the
guardians in the first instance to give the labour of the men to the
parish, paying them the ordinary relief for such work as task-work. If
this were done—and care taken to put them on as extra hands only, to
sweep the pavements, or such other work as is not ordinarily undertaken
by the contractors—there can be no doubt that an outlet might be thus
afforded for some of the better-conducted paupers, after a period of real
probationary task-work, to show themselves fit for independent
employment, and so to extricate themselves from the pauper ranks.
“It would undoubtedly conduce much to the utility of these
labour-yards if the guardians comprising the labour or out-door
relief committee would, as they now do in some unions, frequently
visit the yard, and thus by personal observation make themselves
acquainted with the conduct and characters of the paupers, with the
nature of the superintendence bestowed upon them, and with the manner
in which the work is performed. A channel of communication may thus
be formed between employers of labour when in want of hands and those
unemployed workmen who may by sheer necessity have been driven to
apply for and accept relief in this unpalatable form. The guardians
themselves, frequently large employers of labour, are for the most
part well acquainted with those who are compelled to apply for parish
work; and when they see a steady and willing worker in the yard will
naturally inquire into his antecedents. Where the result of these
inquiries is satisfactory, they will, it may be expected, gladly
avail themselves of the earliest opportunity of obtaining for such a
one employment in his previous occupation, or in any other which may
appear to be suited to his capacity. The personal influence and
supervision of individual guardians can scarcely be overrated; and
thus a bond of sympathy will gradually arise between the guardians
and the deserving poor, which, coupled with the enforcement of real
work, will, it may be hoped, prove not without an ultimate good
effect upon even those hardened idlers who have been hitherto too
often found in these yards the ringleaders in every species of
disturbance.”
The above-quoted is the suggestion of the Chairman of the Poor-law Board,
and well indeed would it be, for humanity’s sake, that it should be
regarded. As matters are at present arranged, the labour-system is
simply disgusting. Take Paddington stone-yard, for instance. Unless it
is altered since last year, the peculiar method of doing business there
adopted is this: a man gets an order for stone-breaking, the pay for
which is, say, eighteenpence a “yard.” At most workhouses, when a man is
put to this kind of labour he is paid by the bushel: and that is quite
fair, because a poor fellow unused to stone-breaking usually makes a sad
mess of it. He takes hammer in hand, and sets a lump of granite before
him with the idea of smashing it into fragments; but this requires
“knack,” that is to be acquired only by experience. The blows he deals
the stone will not crack it, and all that he succeeds in doing for the
first hour or two is to chip away the corners of one lump after another,
accumulating perhaps a hatful of chips and dust. By the end of the day,
however, he may have managed to break four bushels, and this at
eighteenpence a “yard” would be valued at sixpence, and he would be paid
accordingly.
But not at Paddington. I had some talk with the worthy yard-master of
that establishment, and he enlightened me as to their way of doing
business there. “Bushels! No; we don’t deal in bushels here,” was his
contemptuous reply to a question I put to him. “I can’t waste my time in
measuring up haporths of stuff all day long. It’s half a yard or none
here, and no mistake.”
“Do you mean, that unless a man engages to break at least half a yard,
you will not employ him?”
“I mean to say, whether he engages or not, that he’s got to do it.”
“And suppose that he fails?”
“Then he don’t get paid.”
“He doesn’t get paid for the half-yard, you mean?”
“He doesn’t get paid at all. I don’t never measure for less than a
half-yard, and so he can’t be paid.”
“But what becomes of the few bushels of stone he has been able to break?”
“O, he sells ’em to the others for what they’ll give for ’em, to put
along with theirs. A halfpenny or a penny—anything. He’s glad to take
it; it’s that or none.”
“And do you have many come here who can’t break half a yard of granite in
a day?”
“Lots of ’em. But they don’t come again; one taste of Paddington is
enough for ’em.”
What does the reader think of the “labour-test” in this case?
An institution has, it appears, been established by the Birmingham
guardians since the autumn of 1867, for the employment of able-bodied
women in oakum-picking for out-door relief, the result of which has been,
that not only has the workhouse been relieved of a large number of
troublesome inmates of this class, with whom it was previously crowded,
but the applications for relief have diminished in a proportionate ratio.
Every effort is made to induce the women thus employed to seek for more
profitable employment, and the applications at the establishment for
female labour are said to be numerous. The superintendent, who was
formerly matron at the Birmingham workhouse, reports to Mr. Corbett, that
“from the opening of the establishment about fifteen months ago, nineteen
have been hired as domestic servants, ten have obtained engagements in
other situations, and two have married.” In addition to these, some
forty have obtained temporary employment, of whom three only have
returned to work for relief at the end of the year. The total estimated
saving on orders issued for work, as compared with the maintenance of the
women as inmates of the workhouse, during the year ending 29th September
last, is calculated to have been 646_l._ 0_s._ 7_d._ Indeed, so
satisfactory has been the working of the system during the first year of
its existence, that the guardians have resolved to apply the same test to
the male applicants for relief, and a neighbouring house has been engaged
and fitted-up for putting a similar plan in operation with respect to
men. The total number of orders issued during the first twelve months
after this establishment for female labour was opened was 719; of which,
however, only 456 were used, the other applicants either not being in
want of the relief asked for, or having found work elsewhere. Each woman
is required to pick 3 lbs. of oakum per diem, for which she receives
9_d._, or 4_s._ 6_d._ per week; and if she has one or more children, she
is allowed at the rate of 3_d._ a-day additional relief for each child.
The highest number paid for during any week has been 95 women and 25
children. Some days during the summer there has been but one at work,
and in the last week of December last there were but eleven. The house
is said to be “virtually cleared of a most troublesome class of inmates.”
The guardians of St. Margaret and St. John, Westminster, have, it
appears, adopted a system embracing that pursued both at Manchester and
Birmingham, and have provided accommodation for employing able-bodied
women out of the workhouse both in oakum-picking and needlework; and, say
the committee, “a similar course will probably be found advantageous in
other metropolitan parishes or unions, whenever the number of this class
who are applicants for relief exceeds the accommodation or the means of
employment which can be found for them within the workhouse. At the same
time we would especially urge that provision should be made in every
workhouse for a better classification of the able-bodied women, and for
the steady and useful employment of this class of inmates. Those who are
not employed in the laundry and washhouse, or in scrubbing, bed-making,
or other domestic work, should be placed under the superintendence of a
firm and judicious task-mistress, and engaged in mending, making, and
cutting-out all the linen and clothing required for the workhouse and
infirmary; and much work might be done in this way for the new asylums
about to be built under the provisions of the Metropolitan Poor Act.”
This plan of a large needle-room presided over by an efficient officer
has been found most successful in its results at the new workhouse of the
Manchester guardians, as well in improving the character of the young
women who remain any time in the house, and fitting them for home duties
after they leave, as in deterring incorrigible profligates from resorting
to the workhouse, as they were in the habit of doing. Many now come into
our metropolitan workhouses who can neither knit nor sew nor darn a
stocking. This they can at least be taught to do; and we gather from the
experience of Manchester, that while at first to the idle and dissolute
the enforced silence and order of the needle-room is far more irksome
than the comparative license and desultory work of the ordinary
oakum-room, those who of necessity remain in the house are found by
degrees to acquire habits of order and neatness, and thus become better
fitted for domestic duties. The following scale of relief for
able-bodied paupers, relieved out of the workhouse and set to work
pursuant to the provisions of the Out-door Relief Regulation Order, is
recommended for adoption by the various Boards of Guardians represented
at a recent conference held under the presidency of Mr. Corbett:
For a man with wife and one child, 6_d._ and 4 lbs. of bread per day; for
a man with wife and two children, 7_d._ and 4 lbs. of bread per day; for
a man with wife and three children, 7_d._ and 6 lbs. of bread per day;
for a man with wife and four children, 8_d._ and 6 lbs. of bread per day;
for a man with wife and five children, 9_d._ and 6 lbs. of bread per day;
single man, 4_d._ and 2 lbs. of bread per day; single women or widows,
4_d._ and 2 lbs. of bread per day, with an additional 3_d._ per day for
each child; widowers with families to be relieved as if with wife living.
Where a widow with one or more young children dependent on her and
incapable of contributing to his, her, or their livelihood, can be
properly relieved out of the workhouse, that she be ordinarily allowed
relief at the rate of 1_s._ and one loaf for each child; the relief that
may be requisite for the mother beyond this to be determined according to
the special exigency of the case. That widows without children should,
as a rule, after a period not exceeding three months from the
commencement of their widowhood, be relieved only in the workhouse.
Where the husband of any woman is beyond the seas, or in custody of the
law, or in confinement in an asylum or licensed house as a lunatic or
idiot, such woman should be dealt with as a widow; but where a woman has
been recently deserted by her husband, and there are grounds for
supposing he has gone to seek for work, although out-door relief may be
ordered for two or three weeks, to give him time to communicate with his
family, yet, after such reasonable time has elapsed, the wife and family
should, as a rule, be taken into the workhouse, and proceedings taken
against the husband. That the weekly relief to an aged or infirm man or
woman be from 2_s._ 6_d._ to 3_s._ 6_d._ weekly, partly in money and
partly in kind, according to his or her necessity; that the weekly relief
to aged and infirm couples be 4_s._ to 5_s._, in money or in kind,
according to their necessities; that when thought advisable, relief in
money only may be given to those of the out-door poor who are seventy
years of age and upwards.
It appears from a recent statement that the guardians of Eversham union
applied not long since for the sanction of the Poor-law Board to a scheme
for boarding-out the orphan children of the workhouse with cottagers at
3_s._ a-week, and 10_s._ a-quarter for clothing; the children to be sent
regularly to school, and to attend divine worship on Sundays; with the
provision that after ten years of age the children may be employed in
labour approved by the guardians, and the wages divided between the
guardians and the person who lodges and clothes them, in addition to the
above payments. In a letter dated the 3d April 1869, the Secretary of
the Poor-law Board states that, provided they could be satisfied that a
thorough system of efficient supervision and control would be established
by the guardians, and the most rigid inquiry instituted at short
intervals into the treatment and education of the children, the Board
have come to the conclusion that they ought not to discourage the
guardians from giving the plan a fair trial, though they cannot be
insensible to the fact that a grave responsibility is thereby incurred.
The Secretary mentions particulars regarding which especial care should
be taken, such as the health of the children to be placed out, the
condition of the persons to whom they are intrusted, and the necessary
periodical inspection. The Board will watch the experiment with the
greatest interest, but with some anxiety. They request the guardians to
communicate to them very fully the detailed arrangements they are
determined to make. The Board cannot approve the proposed arrangement as
to wages. The guardians have no authority to place out children to serve
in any capacity and continue them as paupers. If they are competent to
render service, they come within the description of able-bodied persons,
and out-door relief would not be lawful. Upon entering into service,
they would cease to be paupers, and would have the protection of the
provisions of the Act of 1851 relating to young persons hired from a
workhouse as servants, or bound out as pauper apprentices. The
hiring-out of adults by the guardians is expressly prohibited by 56
George III., _c._ 129.
The great principle of the Poor-law is to make people do anything rather
than go into the workhouse, and the effect is to cause people to sell
their furniture before they will submit to the degradation; for
degradation it is to an honest hardworking man, and no distinction is
made. The effect of the Poor-law has been to drive men away from the
country to the large towns, and from one large town to another, till
eventually they find their way up to London, and we are now face to face
with the large army of vagabonds and vagrants thus created. A man, once
compelled to break-up his house, once driven from the locality to which
he was attached, and where his family had lived perhaps for centuries,
became of necessity a vagrant, and but one short step was needed to make
him a thief.
It would be a grand step in the right direction, if a means could be
safely adopted that would save a man driven to pauperism from breaking-up
his home. The experiment has, it appears, been successfully adopted in
Manchester, and may prove generally practicable. The guardians in that
city have provided rooms in which the furniture or other household goods
of persons compelled to seek a temporary refuge in the house may be
stored. It would not do, of course, to enable people to treat the
workhouse as a kind of hotel, to which they might retire without
inconvenience, and where they might live upon the ratepayers until a
pressure was passed. Perhaps the confinement and the separation of
family-ties which the workhouse involves would sufficiently prevent the
privilege being abused; but even if such a convenience would need some
limitation in ordinary times, it might be readily granted on an occasion
of exceptional pressure, and it would then produce the greatest
advantages both to the poor and to the ratepayers. The worst consequence
of the workhouse test is, that if a poor man under momentary pressure is
forced to accept it and break-up his home, it is almost impossible for
him to recover himself. The household goods of a poor man may not be
much, but they are a great deal to him; once gone, he can rarely replace
them, and the sacrifice frequently breaks both his own and his wife’s
spirit. If the danger of thus making a man a chronic pauper were
avoided, the guardians might offer the test with much less hesitation;
relief might be far more stringently, and at the same time more
effectually, administered.