BETHNAL GREEN
During the years that Winnington Ingram had been at Oxford House, he
had received several honorary appointments. He had become Chaplain to
the Bishop of St. Albans; and when the man who had shown such great
interest in him already--Bishop Maclagan--had become Archbishop of
York, he also appointed him to a similar post. He was also invited
three successive years to become the Select Preacher at Oxford and at
Cambridge.
In 1895 Dr. Temple, who was then Bishop of London, was faced with the
difficulty of finding an Incumbent for St. Matthew’s, Bethnal Green.
It was a position which would call for a man of an unusual order of
gifts: the particular kind of gifts which Mr. Ingram had already proved
he possessed. The idea impressed itself forcibly on Dr. Temple’s mind
that it would be found practicable for Mr. Ingram to unite the two
posts--_i.e._, the Headship of Oxford House and the Rectory of Bethnal
Green.
On the suggestion being made to him, Mr. Ingram accepted: turned the
Rectory into a residence for his curates, and proceeded to officially
administer the parish with Oxford House as his headquarters.
It is a little difficult, therefore, to make this chapter distinctively
treat of his work at Bethnal Green, as its Rector, since that and his
work at Oxford House now, naturally overlapped one another. There was
the same kind of work to be done throughout the parish, which had been
already accomplished in the district around Mape Street; but, as he
still carried on his open-air work at Victoria Park, until he removed
it to St. Matthew’s, some amount of space must necessarily be allotted
to this part of his work.
Mr. Ingram always found this open-air work a fruitful source of
influence. In the first place it brought him into touch with many
men who scorned to come to his Club, or to Oxford House, or to any
centre of what they termed with scorn “Organised Christianity.” The
audiences consisted largely of men who belonged to one of five classes:
first, those who utterly disbelieved in God and religion of any kind;
second, those who gave a kind of general patronising assent to the
existence of a Deity, and to the claims of religion; third, those who
were curious or indifferent; fourth, those who were simply speculative
concerning religious matters; and fifth, those who were religious, but
aggressively denominational.
In the first class stood men who declared they failed to find any sign
of a plan, or a Providence, in the universe. One of these was cleverly
imagining the difficulties of a parsonic character, whose name he
borrowed from Charles Dickens, “The Rev. Mr. Stiggins.” Sarcastically,
for the purpose of his argument, he placed him in an Indian jungle.
Into his mouth he put these words: “Look at that beautiful fawn!
Notice the designs of Providence in its lightness and beauty!” With
a gesture the lecturer suddenly indicated the entrance of a tiger,
exclaiming: “Now notice the designs of Providence in its marks and
colour that the tiger may easily conceal itself! But at this moment the
providentially-striped tiger leaps upon the providentially-shaped fawn,
and devours it. Oh, Mr. Stiggins, oh, Mr. Stiggins! notice the designs
of Providence now! And if you have any reverence for Providence you
will stay yourself to be the tiger’s next meal! But Mr. Stiggins rushes
with horror from that place of Providence!” So much for the first kind!
As for the second kind, a curious story illustrates their attitude told
by Mr. Ingram. “I remember once in Victoria Park a man who was standing
at one of the meetings, who evidently wished to encourage me, and
exclaimed: ‘Well, Mr. Ingram, I vote for the existence of a God!’ and
he held up his hand, and they all voted round.”
As for the third class, they merely formed the background of men who
listened to arguments on both sides with equal respect, and found their
highest bliss in never coming to a conclusion. Their attitude: “it
don’t cut much ice neither way, so far as I can see!”
As for the fourth class, they were generally burning to air some new
theory of their own. One of them used to try and persuade his hearers
that Christianity was a Sun Myth, and his efforts were attended with
considerable success. Others had a great deal to say about Plato.
Others were great upon asserting that all the religions of the world
were equally inspired. Others that those same religions were equally
untrustworthy. To them it was merely the favourite engagement for their
minds; they belonged to the class of whom Thomas Carlyle well said:
“Their religion is no deeper than the merely argumentative region of
them, if indeed as deep as that.”
Finally, the fifth class were exclusively denominational in their
outlook. They were Baptists who stood for adult responsibility; they
were Congregationalists, who stood for freedom from creed, and from
forms, and for the democratic government of the Churches; they were
Plymouth Brethren--Fundamentalists--who based all their thinking upon
the _ipsissima verba_ of Scripture; they were Christadelphians, who
believed that their bodies were their souls, that Jerusalem was heaven,
and that no one could be saved except Christadelphians.
All these represented a mixed multitude, not many of whom in all
probability would have been reached anywhere else but in the open-air,
or by any other methods. For years Mr. Ingram became a familiar figure,
and as popular as he was familiar; for he faced the facts, and “never
hedged.”
What was the net result of all this? Mr. Ingram thought that the
results were these: (1) That with perfect friendliness many creeds had
met without in any way compromising their principles by attendance; (2)
that a great silent mass who did not speak heard three-quarters of an
hour’s lecture on Why they should be Churchmen; (3) that arguments on
the other side at any rate received an answer.
But there is, we think, another result which must be added. We mean the
exploding of the current idea which rules among working-men that if you
are to become a Christian you must not think: you must be prepared to
swallow wholesale whatever you are taught; and between Modern Thought
and the day of Jesus Christ there is great contradiction. They believe
the attitude of the Church is “Open your mouth and shut your eyes and
see what I will give you!” To such men the fearless appearance of Mr.
Ingram, and men like him, and their direct reasonableness in argument,
is an effective witness.
PRACTICAL APPLICATION OF RELIGION TO PARISH PROBLEMS.
As the Incumbent of the parish, Mr. Ingram found himself faced with
all manner of public problems, which he now felt it was simply his
duty to tackle. He used to go round with the Sanitary Committee of the
Bethnal Green Vestry, to see if houses were fit for human habitation
or not, and he told all his Church workers to report at once any cases
where landlords were not doing their duty to their tenants. “One
house alone had eight little rooms, with a family (and in some cases
a large family) in every room, where they had to eat and sleep. Three
of the houses abutted on a little court a few yards square, which had
to serve for the accommodation of all. The rent for these rotten,
insanitary, dilapidated hovels, with the water coming in at the roof,
was half-a-crown or three shillings a week for the single rooms, and
the whole formed a profitable property, and belonged to a rich man in
the West End of London. And,” said Mr. Ingram, “where a clear case of
injustice or oppression is made out, the Church is the tribune of the
people, and in the teeth of any amount of opposition to its work, or
loss of subscriptions, must bear its witness against the wrongdoer,
and like Nathan before David, must say, ‘Thou art the man!’”
Then came the question of the supply of East London water! He found for
three summers in the hottest part of the year that Bethnal Green was on
short supply, drains were unflushed, smells increased, inconveniences
meeting the people at every turn. Mr. Ingram himself, to moisten the
lips of a dying girl, had himself to go half a mile and fetch some
of the water they had stored themselves from the brief early morning
supply. The question had to be tackled and forced into prominence, and
Mr. Ingram did not shrink from his share in doing it.
He also set about discovering the causes of the great infant mortality,
and set on foot the instruction of the people, and their purveyors, as
to the care to be taken with the milk supply, on the final settlement
of which depended lives of hundreds of thousands of children in the
crowded East End.
Finally, he tackled the housing question. He said: “What the moral
effect of overcrowding is no one who knows the facts can doubt; what
the physical effect is the doctors can tell us. What can I do? you ask.
One thing, at any rate, you can do. You can join a Sanitary Committee
of the Mansion House Council, or start a Committee where there is
not one. Ours in Bethnal Green is worked by a lawyer, and has on it
doctors, surveyors, one or two gentlemen of leisure, and working-men;
or you could come and live here, and after a time get elected on to the
Local Vestry, and when you have got the confidence of your colleagues
get them to use the large powers put in their hands by the Local
Government Board.”
Of course, in all this public work, a man like Mr. Ingram naturally
made enemies; for he was up against vested interests of Water
Companies, the milk trade, and the landlords. The race still exists,
concerning former members of which it was said in ancient times: “It
grieved them that there had come a man to seek the welfare of Israel.”
To them it seemed “officiousness,” “interference,” and over and
over the opinion was expressed that “the parson should stick to his
spiritual work.”
He did! And how he did it can be best told from the following incidents
told by the Rector at various times. Here is one picture:
“I remember a lad coming to me, his face pale as death, and--what was
rare with a London boy, because as a class they are so reserved and
unemotional--he flung himself on his knees and caught hold of me. I
said: ‘Well, lad, what is the matter?’ ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘Mr. Ingram, do
help me!’ The boy’s story was a common one. He had chucked our Club,
and been drawn into the public-house by someone for a drink. There he
had been induced to put his money on horses which were going to make
his fortune, and that night he came to me with terror in his eyes to
say that he had lost £9 from the Shop Club entrusted to him by his
mates. Of course, I lent him the money.”
He collected a number of girls into a Club, and got them to attend the
Church for their first service. After the service the Committee of the
Club wrote: “Dear Rector,--We think it our duty to inform you that in
your opinion our Club Service was a success, and we beg you to have
such a service for us every month _until further notice_.”
Here is another picture:
“I remember one Christmas Day going into a home, not half a mile from
the Church, where I found a blind man in terrible pain. I said to the
wife: ‘What do you do when he has such terrible pains?’ ‘Oh, little
Alice generally sings to him.’ ‘Then let her sing now!’ I said. And
there stood up in the room a little Church-taught child and sang:
O give me Samuel’s mind,
A meek unwavering faith,
To Thee obedient and resigned
In life and death.
That I may read with childlike eyes
Things that are hidden to the wise.
And as she sang that which she had learned at Sunday School, in her
clear, childish treble, the tears coursed down the blind man’s cheeks,
a look of beautiful happiness came into his face and the lines of pain
faded away. A fortnight afterwards he was taken down from his cross,
and passed from his pain into the land where there is no more pain, but
even in Paradise he will hardly hear a sweeter sound than he heard from
his little child that Christmas Day.”
Here is another hint of the rector’s manifold duties:
“Every Monday for nine years did I spend in one of our great hospitals;
and what I saw then convinced me of the truth--the truth the doctors
tell us with one voice--that whole wards of our hospitals might be shut
up. I actually heard a doctor say so myself--if only the drink curse
could be cured in the district. I used to go up to one of the patients
and say: ‘My friend, what brought you here?’ And the answer would be:
‘I slipped on the curb, Mr. Ingram, on Saturday night.’ I did not need
to ask him any other question.”
Here, finally, are two human documents which show the intimate nature
of the rector’s spiritual work:
“I found Jane Crease and Dick Ede in the slums in the East End. Jane
Crease had been in pain for something like fifteen or sixteen years,
and she was left absolutely alone, except for a hard-working father and
mother, who did their best for her, but with no friends, and nothing
to do all day, lying there in the little street in which she lived. I
can remember my first visit, and how she welcomed me when I took on
the parish work, as Rector of Bethnal Green. I raised up people to go
down and bring hope to that poor girl. After about twelve months I
remember going in--_of course, I had been in every week to see her_;
but on one particular visit, when some friends had been down to cheer
her up, and read to her, I remember her waving her hand round to her
photographs, and saying with a smile on her face: ‘It is a changed life
to me, Mr. Ingram. You see I have all my friends here with me. My life
is changed now, and I owe all these friends to you.’ Now the last five
years of that little woman’s life was a different thing, because she
was surrounded by hopeful people who came with bright faces to tell her
about this and that. We used to carry her into Bethnal Green Parish
Church for her Communions when she could not move; and by the Hope of
the Church her life was changed. She died about five years afterwards,
bright and happy to the last.
“Dick Ede was long dying of consumption in that slow way which lasts
for years. I took into him my young brothers from the Settlement at
Oxford House. Many a young clergyman to-day has been educated by Dick
Ede! Many a one has, at his first pastoral visit, learnt from that boy
his patience and other lessons which he has never learnt elsewhere.”
So in the _camaraderie_ which he exercised amongst the men and boys and
women and children, as Head of Oxford House; and in fulfilling the many
calls upon his time in preaching in Victoria Park, and in his public
duties incurred in watching over the movements which affected and
guarded the social needs of the people; and, finally, in the intimate
spiritual work of Rector of the parish, Mr. Ingram passed from nine to
ten years of his life. In the last year of this period he also added
the care of all the churches which fell upon him as Rural Dean of
Spitalfields.
At the close of this period, Lord Salisbury offered him a vacant
Canonry at St. Paul’s Cathedral. His acceptance of the new post
necessitated his resignation as Head of Oxford House; for he would
have to take up his residence at Amen Court, but, when Dr. Creighton,
the then Bishop of London, was informed by Mr. Ingram of the offer, he
urged that he should take it, for he was just about to recommend him
for the Suffragan Bishopric of Stepney. Whereupon, Mr. Ingram accepted
the Canonry, and a short time later, Canon Winnington Ingram was
consecrated Bishop-Suffragan of Stepney, following Dr. Forrest Browne,
who had just been appointed Bishop of Bristol. The following year his
old University honoured him with the degree of D.D.
Now it was that, as Canon of St. Paul’s, a far larger circle began to
come into touch with the new Bishop. His sermons on Sunday afternoon at
the Cathedral drew congregations of thousands; but it was chiefly for
his work as Bishop of Stepney, and his efforts in connection with the
East London Church Fund that he now became known.