utter want of interest and understanding at all times of municipal and
other elections. The new method of electing Guardians may alter this,
but I very much doubt it. I suppose it is wrong to be impatient with
people only recently enfranchised, and, perhaps, not yet understanding
their responsibilities; but surely it is the part of the clergy to
preach, in season and out of season, the grave duty of every man who
has a vote for an office in the town in which he lives, that every man
must recognise that God will hold him responsible for that vote, and
that, if he gives it wrongly, it will be no excuse that his political
club, or the kindly Primrose lady, advised him so to give it. I am
very grateful indeed for the experience I gained both on the Board of
Guardians and on the School Board. It brought me in contact with many
men of very different opinions to my own, who treated me with great
kindness and consideration, and for the majority of whom I entertain
a very deep and true respect. But sometimes I could not help feeling
that on the School Board we were not all educationalists, and on the
Board of Guardians some were rather the guardians of the rates than
the guardians of the poor. Above all, the expenses of management
and the creation of plant were altogether out of proportion to the
amount expended on the objects which we had in view. I venture to hope
that the day is not far distant when that fetish of red tape, which
strangles almost all English enthusiasm, will cease to dominate us,
and when simple Christian common sense will become the method by which,
at any rate, two of the most important of our duties, the educating of
our children and the caring for our poor, are carried out. But it will
not be done until electors choose the best man for either post--the
only consideration being to get the best man--and we rid ourselves
of that hateful thought that everyone desires some gain, either for
himself, or for the church or party to which he belongs, by taking
office.
And surely, if every citizen has his municipal duty, he has an imperial
duty as well. I know that many people were very displeased with me,
because I took what is called an active part in politics. Does a doctor
or a lawyer cease to be a politician because he has got clients? Why
then should a clergyman, because he has got parishioners? I quite
hold that it would be wrong for him to canvass or to influence his
people privately as to their votes; but I believe, on the other hand,
that if he is conscious that he has anything to say worth saying on
the question of politics, or that might help his neighbours to form a
truer, better, or nobler judgment on these questions, it is his bounden
duty to say it. This was a policy I always endeavoured to pursue.
I never once asked a single person to vote my way, but I did, when
opportunity occurred, go upon the platform and tell people what my
opinions were, and I am not the least ashamed of having done so.
[Illustration: OUR TENANTS.]
X.
=Our Battles Civil.=
If I have ventured, in the last chapter, to speak of the duty which
everyone owes to the town in which he lives, I fear that, for several
years of my work in Portsmouth, I was very oblivious of this duty.
The labour and watchfulness needed to try and cleanse our own little
district made one forget the larger, but less apparent, duty. Indeed,
many of my brethren felt that I had rendered their work more difficult,
by uprooting dangers from my own district which located themselves in
theirs. There is much, of course, to be said for this line of thought,
but self-preservation is one’s first instinct, and if, in preserving
myself and my own children, I have wronged others, I am sorry for it.
But I do not think that I had ever let one day pass, in Portsmouth,
without praying that I might realise the grave responsibility which
rested on every inhabitant, and I believed especially on the clergy.
I had tried, in preaching to men alone on Sunday afternoons, to speak
out quite plainly on these social subjects, and this had brought me
into contact with most of the labour leaders. For a long time all
labour reform, in Portsmouth, was a great difficulty, for the Dockyard
did not welcome its workers joining Trade Societies. However, thank
God, that reproach has all been rolled away, and I believe myself the
day is not far distant when employers will find that the men’s Unions
are really a great gain in the solution of the whole Labour Question.
Everything that tends to make the working man more intelligent and more
self-reliant, is a tremendous gain, and there is no doubt that the
better hours which men work, and the better wages, have this tendency.
Of course, there are two dangers--first, as the Unions grew stronger,
they had a tendency to look at all questions merely from the workman’s
point of view, and, secondly, there was a danger of the individual
wasting his increased wages and leisure in bad ways. In all acts of
emancipation the first enjoyment of liberty may turn to licence, but
such licence never lasts very long, and, I think, looking back over
the last thirty years’ history of the Labour Question in England, one
might say that this licence has almost never existed. At any rate, I
was continually struck with the enthusiasm for righteousness that I
discovered amongst the majority of the leading working men with whom I
was brought in contact. I saw how keenly they recognised that though
the creation of character was the chief thing to be aimed at, yet
the creation of character, amidst temptations touching one at every
single moment, added enormous difficulties to the education of every
right-minded young man and woman. A great deal of cant has been talked
about what is called the “Nonconformist Conscience,” and I am quite
willing to believe that many of those most _en evidence_ have, by
their want of tact, and, I would add, want of true understanding of
the working man, prejudiced the British public. But I can testify to
this fact, that every word I uttered in Portsmouth on these subjects,
was, in a large measure, but the echo of earnest words said to me, and
prayers prayed with me, by working men, who were almost always, I say
it with shame as a priest of the Church of England, Nonconformists.
Why are these men not in communion with our Church? Surely that is the
most important question for those in authority in the Church to ask
themselves. The answer is not a difficult one. For their fathers and
for themselves the Church of England has practically forbidden all
work. They are trained in their own denominations to be class-leaders,
itinerant preachers, to visit the sick, often to govern the chapel
as elders. They are on a perfect equality with their minister, they
tell him plainly what they think about him, and the needs of the men
amongst whom they live. In years gone by their forbears suffered for
what they held to be the truth; the remembrance of that suffering is
bred in the bone of the children. But for all those who are interested
in the Labour Question, there can be no thought so full of thankfulness
to God, and of hope for the future, as the knowledge that the vast
majority of labour leaders are deeply religious men.
For a long time I had been trying to organise the shop-assistants in
the town. Would you believe it that, even now, Portsmouth has no weekly
half-holiday, no early closing? The vast majority of the better shops,
in our part of the town, do not close till 7.30 the first four nights
in the week, on Fridays at 10, on Saturdays at midnight. The little
shops never seem to close at all, day or night. There is something
particularly pitiful in the class of shop-assistants. As a rule they
will not help themselves. There is very little _esprit_ amongst
them, and a great deal of snobbishness. If some went on strike, their
places would be filled within twenty-four hours, and one class will not
mix with another. If you will not help yourself, God cannot help you,
far less man. So, practically, one was fighting an impossible battle,
for one or two large shopkeepers stood in the way of all reform. In
the middle of the agitation, to my utter astonishment, I was told that
the new minister of the Lake Road Baptist Chapel, Mr. Joseph, would be
very glad to come and see me about it. I knew many of the Nonconformist
ministers in the town were in sympathy with me, for several of them
had written to me, when I resigned, in 1890, to say how sorry they
were, and how they earnestly prayed that I would not leave Portsmouth.
I felt that if Mr. Joseph was willing to stand by me, not only on the
platform of shop-assistants, but with regard to the drink question too,
I had indeed gained a most important ally. The congregation at Lake
Road has more men in it than any church in Portsmouth--surely that is
the best test of a Christian Church--and I knew that their minister was
a true representative of his congregation. After many talks with him
and some of his brethren, there was no doubt at all left in our minds
that the Drink Question lay at the root of every evil in Portsmouth.
With a population of 159,255 we had 1040 licences, or one licence to
153 people; or, deducting infants and total abstainers, 25 per cent. of
the population, one licence for every 115 people. This is enormously
above the average of almost all the large towns in England, the great
seaport towns, or even the other Dockyard towns. In several Bills for
the revision of the Licensing Question, submitted to Parliament, it has
been proposed that licences should be granted in towns in the ratio
of one per thousand; that would mean the reduction of licences, in
Portsmouth, from one thousand and forty to one hundred and sixty.
I have no quarrel with the publican. I have known many of them to
be the most respectable people, whose righteous souls were vexed,
day by day, by the circumstances under which they and their children
were forced to live; and yet, because they had invested their little
all in a public-house, they had no other chance of a livelihood. In
Portsmouth, too, the publican seems to suffer far more than in other
towns, for the transfers are much more frequent--that is, a man
invests his savings in a public-house, finds it does not pay, and has
oftentimes to leave it, realising very little of the money which he
put into it. Almost all the houses in Portsmouth are tied houses--that
is, the publican has to sell, exclusively, the beer of the brewer who
owns the house; and if he does not sell a sufficient quantity he is
soon reminded of it, for the brewer’s profit is far more largely made
out of the profits from the beer than from the rent of the house. There
is only a certain amount of legitimate drinking in any town--that is,
drinking because a man actually needs the drink. If the drinking were
limited to this, an enormous number of houses would close without any
interference of the magistrate. And so the publican has to do all
sorts and kinds of things to induce men to stay in his house and drink.
Everyone knows that there are innumerable ways of adulterating or
faking up drink; that, if gambling and betting are allowed, men will
congregate; that, if bad characters fill the bar, certain men will stay
there; that, if the singing of vulgar songs is allowed, it is a great
attraction, and makes men who roar the choruses all the more thirsty.
Many publicans, of course, are too high-minded to employ these methods;
but many who see starvation facing themselves and their children, do
use them. Needs must when the devil drives; and certainly, in this
case, the devil is the driver. Then it is very hard to refuse drink to
a man who has already had too much, not only because you lose the price
of the glass, but very likely his custom, as well as his friends’.
However diligent and efficient the police are, it is utterly impossible
for them to see that every public-house is conducted on legitimate
lines. A large public-house, with a big trade and hardly any seats,
where people take their drink and go out again, does, comparatively
speaking, little harm. In towns with slums like Portsmouth, nearly
all the harm is done by the little public-house. And these little
houses are not scattered over the whole town; they are gathered, as a
rule, into little districts. In Portsmouth proper, for instance, with
a population of 6933, there are 75 public-houses; in Portsea, with a
population of 15,260, there are 145. And these are really the diseased
spots which fester and corrupt, where germs of every kind of disease
collect--the places where our soldiers and sailors mostly spend their
time. And the public-house is never by itself. Close to it--perhaps on
either side of it--are houses of shame and evil. I would to God that
the doctors in the naval and military hospitals could let their opinion
of these places be known by the thinking people in England.
At any rate, I soon discovered that the Nonconformist ministers were
only too anxious to move with me, with a view to drawing attention to
these and other evils, which we considered to be a perpetual menace to
the true health of our town. And then, to my greater joy, I found that
Canon Jacob, and many of the Church clergy, too, were most anxious to
join in the matter, and in a short time a Vigilance Committee had been
appointed, which practically represented all that was best in every
church and chapel, trade and profession, in the town of Portsmouth.
Canon Jacob, who has since become Bishop of Newcastle, was elected
chairman of that Committee, and I have never known anyone discharge
duties--very difficult duties--with greater tact and earnestness.
On March 15th, 1894, the Town Council received a deputation from the
Vigilance Committee upon the state of the streets in the town, and the
Watch Committee, to whom the questions were referred, gave instructions
to the Chief Constable, and the effect in a very short time was very
manifest. The outward visible signs of the evil largely disappeared,
and it was quite possible for people to walk through the streets
without having their ears filled with the most disgusting language,
and their sense of shame continually wounded. The lighting too of many
streets, and especially of Southsea Common, by electricity, had a
most desirable effect. But the real gain of the whole question was a
deepening, in the minds of thoughtful men, of their duty in seeing that
the authorities of the town did all that lay in their power to prevent
temptation being forced on unwilling persons, and to make it possible
for any lad or girl to go through any of the streets without being
molested. When the town realises this duty, the authorities will soon
see that that which is necessary is done.
On 18th August, 1894, the Society presented to the Licensing Justices
an Open Letter, from which I have already quoted some statistics. This
letter, at any rate, convinced the people of two facts: first, that
the public-houses were altogether out of proportion to the population;
secondly, that practically the monopoly of the drink traffic was held
by a very few firms of brewers. When first I went to Portsmouth,
and discovered how very undesirable many of the public-houses in my
district were, I realised that it was utterly impossible that the
brewers could know the character of the places in which their money was
made, and I was particularly anxious that they should send their wives,
or a lady of their acquaintance, dressed simply, to stay in their
public-houses from 8.30 till the closing hour. I was told that this was
an utterly preposterous demand. I cannot for the life of me see why it
should be. The brewer makes his money, which his wife spends, out of
the public-house. It is of vital importance that he should see, through
the eyes of someone he can trust, how the money is made. If it is a
place where he will not allow his wife to go, surely it is not a place
where he wishes any other man’s wife to go, or indeed any woman’s
husband, or indeed any other man or woman. And that is just the point
I have never been able to understand about brewers. Many of them are
most religious, excellent men, many of them even philanthropists, and
doubtless these do see that all their public-houses are well-conducted.
Some brewers say to me, “So long as the police do not interfere, it is
no business of mine.” But surely that is not a true basis on which to
work. The publican is the servant of the brewer, very often the tied
and bound servant, and the brewer has no more right to make a penny out
of a house where there is any wrong going on, than he has to steal. I
am perfectly sure that, if every brewer, putting aside for a moment his
business manager and agent, would make either in his own person, or in
the person of someone whom he really trusts and whom the publican does
not know, an examination of his own houses, many of them would be shut
up.
In Lent, 1894, I was asked to preach in London on the subject of
sailors, and I expressed pretty freely my own views, saying that most
naval towns, Portsmouth among them, were sinks of iniquity. I had said
the same thing over and over again in Portsmouth, and so I was utterly
astonished when I arrived at the railway station, on my return, to
discover the extraordinary storm my words had created. Underlying all
this righteous indignation there was a certain amount of selfishness.
Southsea, the favoured infant of the Corporation, for whose sake
Kingston and Landport are sometimes starved, was endangered. If these
words preached in London, and reported throughout the kingdom in the
public press, were believed, it might hinder the influx of visitors,
and so injure hotels, boarding-houses, and shopkeepers. When a scare
from want of proper drainage or water has injured a health resort,
is it wiser to try and hush the matter up, and blame the man who has
dragged the nuisance to light, or to cure the nuisance, and render
the town really healthy? That was the question which the Mayor ought
to have answered, though, indeed, that part of it had never entered
into my head. I only wanted to make England at large realise the cruel
injury which was done to her noblest and best sons by the depravity
which reigns in those very spots where, for her sake, the truest and
noblest of her children are compelled to live. The Mayor’s defence of
the town was most splendid. I venture to copy a few words from one of
his speeches.
* * * * *
“After this stigma has been thrown upon us, I have considered it
my duty, within the last twenty-four hours, to visit that part
of the town which has been spoken of so much--for there is no
doubt what part was meant in this gentleman’s sermon. I started
last night at 9.40, in company with an inspector of police, and
I have in my hand a report which I shall be pleased to hand to
the rev. gentleman. I visited 50 public-houses and beerhouses
in the worst part of the borough, between the hours of 9.40 and
11 p.m. At each house I took the number of persons drinking, or
sitting down, or talking, and in the 50 houses there were 460
men and women. Where would you send these people to? Are you
going to let them walk about in the streets? The upper ten can
afford to belong to a club, and may not the working man go and
have his glass of beer and enjoy it? In the whole of these 50
houses I may tell you--and tell you honestly, because I have two
witnesses to corroborate what I say--there was not one drunken
man on the premises, and during the time we were out we saw in
the streets only one man who was “jolly,” and we cannot say he
was drunk. Surely with 10,000 sailors in port and nearly 6000
troops in garrison, I am not saying too much when I say we are
proud of our town. And I feel I must compliment the brewers
and the occupiers of public-houses and beerhouses of the town
for the admirable manner in which those houses are conducted.
Do not let it go forth that I just opened the doors and looked
in. We went into the bars, the taprooms, and the singing-rooms,
and there was nothing whatever that any man need be ashamed of
seeing. I maintain that if the rev. gentleman or anyone else
would only take the trouble, as I did last night, to go round
to these houses and see the way in which they are conducted, we
should have no trouble in removing in a moment the scandal and
stigma which has been thrown on this borough. You may leave the
matter in the hands of your representatives, and I feel sure
that they will uphold the dignity of the ancient borough of
Portsmouth and look after your interests, and that they will do
all they can, as they have done before, to answer those who talk
to draw money to raise churches and other buildings. We have
to determine in our own minds whether this sermon, to which I
have referred, was preached in order to raise money to build a
church; if so, I would say that I should be sorry to go and pray
in a church built from money raised by stigmatising a town as
this clergyman has done.”
I was threatened with a public indignation meeting in the Town Hall. I
only wish that Mr. Joseph and myself had had the chance of addressing
such a meeting. We wanted to ask the Mayor whether there was any
other town in England in which, between the hours of 9.40 p.m. and 11
p.m.--that is eighty minutes--fifty public-houses could be entered, let
alone thoroughly visited; whether he knew anything of the character
of the houses which he passed in going from public to public; whether
it could be desirable for the inhabitants to have so many licensed
premises so close together; and whether he believed that there were
fifty other publics anywhere in England which, at that hour in the
evening, were without people whom he would call “jolly.” Surely his
defence was the very best proof possible of my allegation. However, the
public meeting never came off; discretion was the better part of valour.
I believe myself that the row did the town a great deal of good, and
I am thankful to think that when I left it two years after I received
from all kinds and sorts of people the most appreciative letters, one
of the very kindest being from one of the largest brewers. There is one
splendid thing about English rows, that, though we hit as hard as ever
we can, we do not seem to bear any malice. I hope everyone will believe
that it was with the purest intention of trying to remedy evils, the
removal of which will only make Portsmouth more glorious, a better home
for our soldiers and sailors, a more attractive spot in which to make
all patriotic Englishmen learn to value the magnificence of their own
country, that I spoke every word that I ventured to say.
XI.
=Our Battles Ecclesiastical.=
It has been easy to write of our battles with the brewers and
brothel-keepers, for their attacks were in the open; but of our battles
with our Bishops it is much more difficult to write, there being a
dread in my own mind whether I have been able to judge perfectly fairly
concerning their attitude towards us. And therefore I think it right to
print in full the whole of the last correspondence between the Bishop
of Winchester and myself, as nothing would distress me more than to put
a wrong interpretation upon his action. Before I came there had been in
the public press, and even at meetings, very violent attacks made upon
Dr. Linklater. Portsmouth is a very Protestant town, and I had not been
in it a week before I discovered that one must expect many attacks.
Almost every week there were several very angry letters in the local
press, and from time to time a big indignation meeting. The Protestant
Hall had just been built, and it was evidently felt that it was a
pity not to use it. But the letters and the meetings were about on an
equality of common sense and charity, and I am quite sure we pursued
the right method in never answering such attacks upon us. Sometimes the
attack would be about ritual, sometimes about doctrine. I tried as
far as I could in instructions in church to explain everything we did,
but I do not suppose our opponents cared to come to our church, and
therefore they were not benefited. I have often since then thanked God
for this opposition, because it was the reason why we took such pains
with our own people.