The problem of riches--Necessity for scientific investigation
into the lives of the rich--Interdependence of riches and
poverty--Analysis of expenditure on houses, servants, clothes,
food, amusements--Impressions of a poor crowd and a rich
crowd--Tragedies.
On all sides it is admitted that there is a problem of Poverty, but
it has never yet been suggested that just in the same way there is a
problem of Riches. Not the problem of how to become rich and how to
invest money and make more money, that is the very obsession which
ought to be dispelled, but the important question of how the rich
spend their money, how they live, to what objects they devote their
riches, and whether the vast accumulations are being disposed of to
the greatest advantage. The connection between riches and poverty is
capable of proof, that is to say, the maladministration of wealth by
individuals can be shown to be closely linked to the disorganisation
of labour which creates such evils as sweating and unemployment. But
before further advance can be made towards any possible solution there
must be a dissection and analysis of the lives of the rich as well as
of the poor, so that some knowledge may be acquired of both sides of
the medal which will demonstrate their interdependence.
We are allowed to extract every conceivable detail of the most intimate
nature from the poor householder, but any sort of inquiry as to how the
rich live is regarded as an impertinence. Even the suggestion that they
should make a return of all their income, as a man of moderate means
must do for income tax purposes, is scouted as inquisitorial.
We inquire into the lives of the poor in order to ascertain the actual
facts, so that with a full knowledge of the evil we may set to work
scientifically to improve their condition. But this is really only half
the problem. No investigation can be complete unless an equally careful
and exhaustive inquiry is made into the way the rich live. It cannot
be regarded as an inquisitive prying into personal and private habits,
for when the expenditure is on such a scale as to have extensive
economic consequences it ceases to be of a private nature and ought to
be investigated on public grounds. Not only might the inquiry be made
with a view to the improvement of their own way of living--though they
would refuse to admit there was any room for improvement--but by this
means more light would also be thrown on the problem of poverty.
It is the question of distribution that is admittedly the insoluble
difficulty, and yet we set to work to examine the barren patches and
leave out of account the land that is soured by over-fertilisation. To
accomplish a successful work of irrigation attention must not only be
turned to the dry and arid land, but to the marshy, low-lying parts
that have got more of the water than they need and require draining,
otherwise an even flow over the whole can never be engineered and the
full capacity of the soil cannot be given a fair chance.
It is absurd to suppose that any section of the community, whatever
pretensions they may have, can live as they like without affecting the
lives and wellbeing of their fellow-men. Riches may set up a fence,
make those inside it believe that they are living in a world apart
and blind them to what is going on outside, but riches have no power
to sever the moral and spiritual, as well as the invisible economic
ties which bind every individual from his birth to his death with the
whole of the rest of humanity. This attitude of aloofness which the
rich adopt makes it true to say of them that “they are outcasts and
are cut off from natural and human relationship with the great mass
of mankind.”[19] The people who consider the richness of the rich
has nothing to do with the poverty of the poor are in the habit of
asserting that even if all incomes large and small were added together
there would not be enough “to go round.” They fail to remember that
money which is invested without any return, or only getting a very low
return, has not the same value and cannot go as far as the same sum
bringing in a high return from a remunerative investment.
The attacks of a vaguely disparaging nature made against the rich
are often beside the mark from the lack of accurate knowledge of
their position, their habits, and their methods. But ought not the
expenditure of these accumulated masses of money to be subjected to
some scientific scrutiny? Can another “Personal Service Association”
be established among the poor for visiting the rich? It is just as
necessary. Can a supplement be compiled to Mr. Charles Booth’s _Life
and Labour of the People_, Mr. Rowntree’s _Poverty: a Study of Town
Life_?
What would be the fate of an investigator who dared to pursue his
inquiries at houses in Mayfair or Belgravia? In response to the bell
the massive front door would slowly open, and out of the darkness of
the hall would emerge the solemn figure of an overfed butler flanked
by two giants with powdered hair. The investigator, note-book in hand,
if he had the courage to proceed, would ask his string of queries as
to how many rooms the house contained, how many people, the cost of
living, the health of the children, the employment of the man, etc.
etc. But he would not get very far before the incensed and outraged
dignity of his audience would take an active form and he would find
himself hurled down the steps into the street.
Nevertheless, such a book would be of enormous use. It would serve to
establish a concrete basis from which useful economic and sociological
deductions might be made, however disagreeable some of the disclosures
might be incidentally. It would not be an invitation to the masses
to spoil and rob the rich any more than the books on Poverty are an
invitation to the rich to largess more of their wealth among the poor.
Indeed, there is no question of spoliation, it is all a matter of
adjustment. The blame cast on the rich would no doubt be heavy because
they have the power of initiative, education, and free choice to act
differently, while the poor are merely the slaves of the overwhelming
force of circumstances and the victims of a system which they have
neither the intelligence to understand nor the power to resist.
The following authentic information, based on actual facts and not
hearsay, will give some small idea of what this suggested investigation
might produce. Extracts are also given from reports on the state of the
poor for the sake of completeness rather than contrast.
For instance, we read a brief description of the household of a man of
“no occupation”:
“Married. Two rooms; two children; parish relief; ill, incapable.
Two little girls, one consumptive. The rooms are miserable, badly
ventilated and damp. This house shares one closet with six other
houses, and one water tap with three others.”
Or of a “regular loafer”:
“Married. Two rooms; one child. Wife sews. House very dark on
account of high buildings opposite. Kept tidy and clean. This house
shares one closet with two other houses, and one water tap with six
others.”[20]
Surely we ought to know the description, though it cannot be so brief,
of the household of another man of “no occupation”:
“Married. Two children. Four houses. London house, ---- Street, W.
Sixty-two rooms; one of the country houses considerably larger.
Thirty-six indoor servants:
1 house steward.
2 grooms of the chamber.
1 valet.
2 under butlers.
3 footmen.
2 steward’s room footmen.
1 gate porter.
1 hall porter.
1 usher of the servants’ hall.
2 odd men.
1 house carpenter.
1 chef.
1 kitchen porter.
4 kitchen and scullery maids.
2 still-room maids.
6 housemaids.
1 linen maid.
1 lady’s maid.
1 housekeeper.
2 nurses.
Owns about 20,000 acres of land. (A larger staff of servants
than this could be quoted. In one country house as many as ten
housemaids are kept.)”
Or let us take the inhabitants of a six-roomed house:
“Ground floor, in the front room lives a widow who does repairing
and is very poor. The back room is occupied by two prostitutes. On
the first floor front room live man and wife with seven children.
He loafs and she washes. They are very dirty and miserably poor. At
the back live a man and woman with two children. He is consumptive
and does nothing in particular. She goes out begging with the
children. On the top floor in two rooms are man and wife with eight
children. He spends his time about the public-houses. She does
anything she can. The eldest boy, a decent lad, is at a chemist’s
shop, but he is consumptive. Six rooms; twenty-six people.”[21]
The occupation of twenty-six of the people who live in another house
containing seventy-two rooms is as follows:
Butler (wages £120),[22] valet, groom of the chambers, under
butler, three footmen, one steward’s room footman, usher of the
servants’ hall, odd man, chef (wages £150),[22] kitchen porter,
four kitchen and scullery maids, five housemaids, two still-room
maids, one lady’s maid, one needlewoman, one housekeeper.
This staff ministers to the wants of a man, his wife, and three
children.
In the country, at a stone’s throw from one another, we find a man, a
farm labourer, living with his wife and six children in a four-roomed
cottage on 14s. a week, and another man, without any permanent
employment, living with his wife and a staff of twenty-three indoor
servants in a house containing over sixty rooms, with the choice of two
other large country houses and a London house, and owning over 50,000
acres of land, a great deal of which is kept for shooting.
In another part of the country the medical officer of the county
reports: “In a house consisting of living-room, bedroom, and a small
scullery live father, mother, three sons, also three children under
ten and two men lodgers. Seven sleep in the bedroom, which has a low
ceiling and has been divided, and five sleep in the living-room; the
only window of the latter room will not open, and the window of the
divided upstairs room is near the floor level.”
The landlord and lord of the manor of this district lives with his
wife and family in a house containing over one hundred rooms, and is
attended by a staff of forty-four indoor servants. He has the choice of
three other country residences and a town house, and owns over 186,000
acres.
We find some women occupied in the following way:
“Mrs. B. and her daughter support themselves on shirt work. The
mother is a shirt finisher, the daughter a machinist. They work
seven or eight hours a day--the daughter’s book shows an average of
11s. 3¾d. over four weeks--the mother’s 9s. 1d. over nine weeks.
When the mother earns 10s. it means working from 5:30 a.m. till 10
or 11 p.m. She gets 2d. per dozen for finishing, i.e. 72 buttons
and 48 bars.”[23]
Or:
“Mrs. C. is always busy mending, making, washing, or baking, and
certainly makes the best of all that comes in her way. She states
that she can never afford money for recreation or for a holiday out
of the town.”[24]
While others are occupied as follows:
Early cup of tea, one hour for dressing, late breakfast, writing
notes, two hours shopping, half an hour for dressing, one hour for
luncheon (three courses), drive, pay or receive calls, quarter of
an hour for dressing, one and a half hour for tea and gossip, an
hour’s rest, one hour for dressing, one and a half hour for dinner
(six courses); theatre, ball, or bridge; supper, bed.
We might have hit upon the day in the week on which an hour or so was
devoted to an “intellectual” lecture or a committee meeting for some
charity.
The annual average estimates of clothing are instructive:
FEMALE _s._ _d._
Boots 9 0
Dress 8 0
Blouse 2 0
Aprons 2 0
Stockings 1 6
Underclothing 2 10
Stays 2 6
Hats 1 6
Jacket and shawl 2 6
--------
31 10
To balance this we find:
FEMALE £
Boots and shoes 30
Dresses, evening and day 170
Blouses 25
Aprons 0
Underclothing 120
Hats 45
Cloaks and furs 65
Gloves 20
Veils, boas, scarves, etc 70
-----
£545
A fair average instance has been taken. Double this amount is quite
common. The case might be given of a woman who in 1908 spent in gowns,
coats, and cloaks alone £2090 in two months. On the other hand a woman
of the same class, a peer’s daughter, living in the top floor of ----
Road at 5s. a week rent has to adjust her dress budget to fit in with
an income of £60 a year.
MALE: _s._ _d._
Boots 11 0
Socks 3 0
Coat and waistcoat (second-hand) 5 6
Trousers 7 6
Overcoat (second-hand, 15s., lasts three years) 5 0
Shirts 4 0
Cap and scarf 1 3[25]
----------
37 3
ANOTHER MALE: £ _s._ _d._
Boots and shoes 35 0 0
Suits (day, evening, shooting, and flannels) 90 0 0
Socks, underclothing, gloves, handkerchiefs,
white waistcoats, etc. 86 0 0
Hats and caps 10 10 0
Overcoats 35 0 0
---------------
£256 10 0
A normal case has been purposely chosen. The budget might have been
given of a man who has ten evening suits, spends £10 a month on gloves
and ties, and pays 25s. apiece for his pocket-handkerchiefs.
Before leaving the subject of clothes, one or two extracts may be
quoted concerning those who help to make them:
“Mrs. ---- gets 2s. 6d. a dozen for making coats and 2s. 3d. a
dozen for reefers, and says ten years ago she got 5s. a dozen;
eighteen years ago 1s., 1s. 6d., and 2s. a coat; and in her early
days, when most of the work was done by hand, 5s. a coat.”
“Mrs. K. makes artificial flowers when she can get work. When
visited, she was working at sprays with twenty-four small flowers,
leaves, and stem, at 1½d. per spray.”
“Miss B. makes elaborate net blouses with tucks and insertion for
1s. to 1s. 4d. each. The wholesale price for these blouses is 8s.
11d., and the retail price 12s. to 15s.”
“A maker of pyjamas was paid 11s. 3d. for entirely making a dozen
suits, but gave up the work and took to shirt-making, because the
employer found someone who would do it for 6s. 3d.”[26]
Food offers, perhaps, the most striking study. In making this analysis
it would almost seem necessary to remember that the cubic capacity
of the adult human stomach does not vary to any appreciable extent,
and, on the whole, appetite is liable to be keener with those who
endure physical toil than with those who do nothing. Again, no extreme
instances, one way or the other, will be given.
Man, wife, and child for five weeks:[27]
_s._ _d._
Meat and liver 8 5
Potatoes and vegetables 2 3½
Fish 0 9
Bacon, eggs, and cheese 3 6¼
Suet 1 0
Butter and dripping 2 9
Bread 8 9¼
Flour 4 1½
Rice 0 6
Fruit, jam, and sugar 8 4¼
Milk 3 2
Tea and coffee 3 6
Pepper and salt 0 2½
---------------
£2 7 4¼
Average for one week 9 5½
Or man, wife, two boys, and a girl:
£ _s._ _d._
Food and drink for three weeks 2 0 7¼
Average for one week 0 13 6½
The study of the diet of this family reveals a deficiency of 25% in the
protein and 7% in fuel value.[28]
Household books for one week--seven in family, nineteen servants:
£
Butcher 16[29]
Baker 5
Poulterer 12
Dairy 9
Fruit, flowers, vegetables 16
Fishmonger 9
Grocer 5
---
£72
(Two dinner parties were given during the week.)
The household of an “unemployed man,” living in ---- Square, S.W., four
in family and fourteen servants:
£ _s._ _d._
Butcher 15 2 7
Greengrocer 10 10 0
Ice merchant 1 18 0
Fishmonger 7 10 0
Grocer 5 5 0
Milkman 4 10 0
Poulterer 12 0 0
Baker 3 17 0
--------------
£60 12 7
In addition, three hundred eggs were sent up from the country, as well
as fruit, vegetables, and a little poultry. One or two guests were
entertained at luncheon, but the family dined out one night of the
week.
The laundry bill in this house averages £38 a month.
The cost of coal in one household for the year, £800.
Other examples:
Household books: four in family, twelve servants--one week, £49.
Household books: five in family, fourteen servants--one week, £63.
A single meal:
Bread 1d.
Cheese 1d.
¼ lb. of meat 3d.
Potatoes and onions 2d.
Jam 1d.
½ pint of beer 2d.
---
10d.
Another meal:
Cantaloup Glacé.
Tortue Claire.
Bisque Nantua.
Truites Saumonées Michigan.
Mousse de Jambon à l’Escurial.
Selle d’Agneau Montefiore.
Poularde Strasbourgeoise.
Salade Indienne.
Cailles flanqués d’Ortolans.
Asperges Verts. Sauce Mousseuse.
Pêches Framboisines.
Friandises.
Fanchonettes Suisses.
Hock, Claret, Port, Coffee, and Liqueurs.
This dinner for twenty people cost £60, or £3 a head, without wine.
If the figures in these instances, with regard to food expenditure,
really represented quantities consumed, the dangers from overfeeding
in the one set of cases would far exceed the dangers from underfeeding
in the other. The cheerful bell that announces the servants’ midday
meal no doubt heralds the consumption of a vast amount of food; but it
is a debatable point whether sheer waste does not account for almost
as much. Quarts of cream are emptied down the sink, joints and birds
only half eaten are thrown away, and the pig-tub receives a rich enough
allowance of vegetables, fruit, and cakes to satisfy the appetite of a
large family. In fact, in one house, where the household books averaged
£63 a week, the matter was looked into, and a reduction was made to £34
without any diminution in the number of servants.
* * * * *
Dancing is a form of amusement appreciated by all classes.
At ---- Hall, Fulham, and many other similar places the tickets for the
Saturday night dance cost 9d. each. If two hundred people are present,
the cost would be £7 10s.; allowing 3d. a head for refreshments (£2
10s.), the total amount will be £10.
At ---- Hotel, S.W., a ball was given lately for two hundred people,
costing £1237.
Granting that the amount of enjoyment derived from these two
entertainments is equal, though in all probability there would be
more genuine and honest pleasure in the former than in the latter,
the two sums simply represent the different standards of living. That
ten or even twenty times as much may be spent to give people who are
accustomed to a higher scale of living the same amount of pleasure is
perhaps intelligible, but it seems to require a sum which amounts to
one hundred and twenty-three times as much.
* * * * *
Two bachelors take a night’s lodging.
The one, a working man, goes to ---- House, S.E.
“Working Men’s Hotel, accommodation for 800 beds. 6d. per night.
Tea, coffee, and cocoa always ready, ½d. per small cup, 1d. per
large cup.
Hot soup or porridge, 1d. and 1½d. per basin.
Cut from the joint and two vegetables, 5d. on week-days only; on
Sundays, 6d.
Beefsteak pudding and two vegetables, 4½d.”
His night’s stay, with supper and breakfast, would cost rather over one
shilling.
The other will go to ---- Hotel, S.W. (for men who do not work).
£ _s._ _d._
Room 0 12 0
Dinner, with bottle of claret 1 7 0
Coffee, liqueur, whisky-and-soda 0 5 0
Breakfast 0 6 0
Tips 0 10 0
--------------
£3 0 0
(There are suites of rooms in these hotels for three to nine guineas a
day, which are all occupied during the season.)
* * * * *
If, instead of these few isolated instances of the cost of living,
clothes, and entertainment, a systematically compiled list could be
furnished tabulating some hundreds of cases, it would give a much more
complete idea of the habits and customs of this stratum of society. And
it would show that the cases here quoted are fair examples of average
normal expenditure.
In both the extremes of excess, at the top and at the bottom, there are
hopeless tragedies.
(_a_) Mrs. L., a married daughter of the deceased, said the old
couple occupied a back room for which they paid 1s. 6d. a week.
_The Coroner._ Have the old people enough to live on?
_Witness._ Father could not work, and mother sold matches and laces
to keep things going as best she could, but, of course, she could
not earn more than about 3s. a week.
_The Coroner._ Then she cannot have had enough to eat, as after
paying rent this old couple have only had 1s. 6d. a week to live
on, a most awful thing to contemplate.
_Witness._ No, I don’t think she did have enough to eat, and she
had been very bad in health also. Poor old mother used to work very
hard for years at the wash-tub, but her strength failed her at the
last; but she battled on to keep dad.
The Medical Officer said death was primarily due to pneumonia and
pleurisy.
_The Coroner._ Is it a case of want?
_Witness._ Yes.
_The Coroner._ Can I class it in my report as a death from
starvation?
_Witness._ Yes.
_The Coroner._ It is a pitiful story and one that is getting all
too frequent.
The jury returned a verdict of “Death from starvation.”
(_b_) xxx,000 a year and money accumulating. At first the enjoyment
of the pleasures which money can give. The money continued to
accumulate. Dawning realisation that it did not mean happiness,
that it did not mean even health, and that affection and gratitude
cannot be bought. The money still accumulating. All wants,
rational and irrational, satisfied: the starting of peculiar
fads, capricious gifts, fantastic charities. The money still
accumulating. Ennui, disillusionment, gradual exhaustion and
depression. Recourse had to some novel form of excitement; refuge
taken in stimulants. The money still accumulating, but slowly
choking. Despair, complete demoralisation, and at last welcome
death. The money still accumulating, to drag down some heir and
claim another victim.
Let us see how the two sorts of crowds have impressed two writers.
“What struck every observant delegate was the utter blankness of
the faces that looked up at us from the pavement or down on us
from the windows, with scarcely enough capacity for human interest
to wonder who we were and what we wanted. Never a sign of humour.
Stooped shoulders, hollow chests, ash-coloured faces, lightless
eyes, and, ghastliest of all, mouths with bloodless gums and only
here and there a useful tooth. Literally hundreds of women between
seventeen and seventy crowded close to our motor-cars that day, and
the marks were on them all.”[30]
And:
“Yours is the three hundredth carriage in this row that blocks the
road for half a mile. In the two hundred and ninety-nine that came
before the four hundred that come after you are sitting, too, with
your face before you unseeing eyes. Resented while you gathered
being; brought into the world with the most distinguished skill;
remembered by your mother when the whim came to her; taught to
believe that life consists in caring for your clean, well-nourished
body and your manner that nothing usual can disturb; taught to
regard Society as the little ring of men and women that you see,
and to feel your business is to know the next thing that you want
and get it given you; you have never had a chance. Sitting there
in your seven hundred carriages you are blind--in heart and soul
and voice and walk--the blindest creatures in the world ... and you
are charming to us who, like your footman, cannot see the label
‘Blind.’ The cut of your gown is perfect, the dressing of your hair
the latest, the trimming of your hat later still; your tricks of
speech the very thing; you droop your eyelids to the life, you have
not too much powder; it is a lesson in grace to see you hold your
parasol. The doll of Nature! So since you were born; so until you
die!”[31]
If the suggested volume, _The Life and Leisure of some People_, or
_Riches: a Study of Town Life_ is ever written, any comment on the
carefully tabulated investigations would be quite unnecessary. As
in the case of the books on Poverty, the bare statement of facts is
eloquent enough by itself.
Mr. Rowntree concludes his book with this pregnant phrase:
“That in this land of abounding wealth, during a time of, perhaps,
unexampled prosperity, probably more than a quarter of the
population are living in poverty is a fact that may well cause
great searchings of heart.”
This might be paraphrased:
“That in this land, where more than a quarter of the population are
living in poverty, the abounding wealth of the country should be
retained by a comparatively small number of people, who squander
their riches in a way that brings no happiness to themselves and
inflicts misery and hardships on others, is a fact that may well
cause great searchings of heart.”