SOME SIGNS OF THE TIMES.
Mary Wythburn’s disappearance was one of the signs of the times. And,
excepting to the parties most nearly concerned, it was scarcely a nine
days’ wonder. To a great extent even their minds were speedily set at
rest, for a few days after the wedding was to have taken place a letter
reached her friend, Margaret Miller, which explained in part the
occurrence, though unquestionably the real reason was that Mary’s heart
was playing truant.
“Dear Margaret,” it said, “I am so frightened at what I have done that I
do not know how to bear it; but you know I am such a coward that I could
not bravely face it all out as I ought to have done. I simply dare not
marry Alfred Greenholme, and I dare not say so. Do go to my mother and
comfort her, and tell her that I am safe and well; but I cannot let any
one know where I am, for, of course, if I did I should be fetched home;
and I would rather die than go. Margaret, I am doing what I have always
known I ought to do. I am at work on my own plans in this terrible
London, and, God helping me, I will make a few of my own sex better and
happier before I die. It makes me sick to see how wretched and wicked
they are. Please be my friend, and do not let my dear father and mother,
whom I love with all my heart, be more miserable than they need be. Of
course, I know they are angry with me, and I deserve that they should
be; it is very hard for them that they could not have a daughter like
other people’s girls. I can bear their anger, but they must not be
anxious or sorrowful about me. I have my cheque-book, and I can take
care of myself for a little while; but, oh, Madge! what would I not give
to put my head on your shoulder and have a good cry, and hear you scold
me (as I know you would). I am very thankful to sign myself, still ever
yours,
MARY WYTHBURN.”
In point of fact Mary Wythburn had not done an unheard-of thing in
preferring to work among the poor rather than be married. Many girls had
made the same choice; and many men too. The world of the great East of
London was the scene of more heroic labours for the wretched than had
ever been known before. Methodism had its centre there, from which
radiated all sorts of beneficent lights that flashed across the
darkness. The Congregationalists had a home where good women who had
given up their wealth for Christ’s sake, and that of humanity, lived
together in a little community, and laboured in every conceivable way
among the poor. The Baptists had long led the Forward Movement, which
was another name for the “applied Christianity” in which the Church had
now come to believe. The Episcopal Church had brought wealth, culture,
and influence to bear upon the problem of the outcasts. University men
had chosen this work instead of Parliamentary honours, or the
accumulation of money. And many a young lady had quietly disappeared
from society, and, receiving a pound or two a week from her father for
her personal needs, had gone to dwell among the poor, as poor, in order
to live a consecrated life of Christian helpfulness. Mary Wythburn had
but added one to the already swelling multitude who had yielded to the
fascination of the modern ministry of love and service. The old things
repeated themselves—with a difference. The piety which had moved men and
women to withdraw from the world and give themselves entirely to a
religious life was equally strong and impassioned in many of the young
men and women who were sworn disciples of Jesus now; but they served Him
by withdrawing from luxuries only, and not from men. They took no vows
upon them excepting the usual ones which characterise the entrance into
the Church, but they put a different meaning into them. They heard a
call summoning them into the thick of the crowd, there to do the works
of their Master—to feed the five thousand, to heal the sick, to open the
eyes of the blind, to deliver the captives; aye, to take the little
children into their arms and bless them.
For thoughtful people were most of all concerned about the young. The
State had given them enough schooling to render them precocious, for it
was compulsory and free; but it had not educated them, for the
conscience and the character were very much untouched by the schools,
since the children left far too early to have had a chance to gain
anything more than the mere rudiments of elementary training. The years
at which they might begin to labour were put back a little, but now
there were thousands, where fifty years before there had been dozens,
earning their own livelihood in factories and works of various kinds.
This massing of young people together, with little control over their
tongues or conduct, was having a terrible effect upon the men and women
of the next generation. Their conversation was frequently of the most
filthy kind, and juvenile immorality was frightfully on the increase.
Arthur Knight had a shock as, sitting in his office one day with the
windows open, he overheard some of the girls in his employ talking
together, and he lost no time in providing a place where Miss Wentworth
and her helpers might begin a beneficial work among these young people,
many of whom, though at present between fourteen and sixteen, would soon
be the mothers of children, and who for that, if no other reason, needed
greatly the womanly ministrations of Christian love.
But it happened that at the first of the girls’ meetings in the
temporary evening homes prepared for their reception Miss Wentworth
could not be present, and, indeed, for several weeks the young ladies
who were to help her had about fifty factory girls to themselves.
Neither of them would ever forget their experience. Provision had been
made for the girls to wash at the rooms, and take tea there, so that
they might be as long as possible under the influence of their friends,
who earnestly desired to render them real service, but who were at their
wit’s end to know how to accomplish it. The girls brought curling-tongs,
and spent most of their time in “frizzing” their “fringes.” They were
urged to join a savings’ club, but said they were already in a “feather
club,” to which they paid, out of their earnings of seven or eight
shillings, a shilling a week for “fashion and finery,” and they could
not afford to save anything else. For some time it seemed impossible to
reduce them to any sort of order. They at once gave nicknames to the
ladies; and began by mimicking their manner of speaking. One of the
girls went to a timid, nervous young lady, and, looking her full in the
face, said, “Blush! blush!” an order which was, of course, instantly
obeyed, to the great glee of those who stood around, and who laughed
uproariously. One impudent-looking girl had a dreadful black eye, and in
reply to a lady who kindly inquired if she had met with an accident,
said, “Mother did that. She throwed a tater at me, and it hit my eye. My
mother can’t do nothing with me, and it makes her mad.” The words were
immediately sung in a sort of chorus: “_My_ mother can’t do nothing with
_me_, and it makes her mad.” A lady offered to give a little talk on the
body, having made physiology her favourite study; the girls sat and
giggled the whole time, at the end of which they dubbed their teacher,
“Bones.” The young ladies were very much troubled by the boys outside,
who waited about for the girls, and amused themselves by knocking at the
doors and climbing up to the windows, and who became at last so
troublesome that a policeman was asked to take up his station near and
keep order. The next day many of the girls brought the policeman
offerings of flowers, and nearly all surrounded him, and began talking
and joking with him.
“It is of no use to try. We shall never do them any good. We must give
it up and leave them to their fate.” But this was not what those
educated, Christ-obeying girls said. Some whom they knew had gone away
to work among the dwarfs of the Congo, the fever-stricken men and women
of the jungle, and the lepers of Siberia; should these be less heroic
than they? They kept steadily on, and, after a time, a few of the girls
for whose salvation they agonised grew more quiet than the rest, and
these would distribute themselves among the others and try to keep order
during the prayer-time; and, at last, now and then the young hearts of
these home missionaries were thrilled with such whispers as this: “I do
want to be better, please tell me how?” So they worked faithfully.
But many signs of the times were less hopeful than this. It was known in
England, and especially in London, that few financial ventures were so
absolutely safe as those connected with journalism, provided the popular
taste was met. Those who won the greatest popularity were those who
wrote down to the masses, and went even a little lower than they. The
sale of such journals was largely helped by religious people, not that
they approved the morality of the journals, but because they were
amusing, the gossip being of a spicy nature, and the tales sensational
and enthralling. For several years almost all papers had become
increasingly personal in their character, and editors were willing to
pay large sums for little bits of news touching persons who were in the
least distinguished for position, possession, or power. The society
journals had always a large sale, especially those that were the most
unscrupulous in hunting for skeletons in cupboards, and exhibiting them
to the public at the rate of a penny a week.
But lately there had been commenced a new journal, which was giving
intense pain, and covering with shame a large section of the British
people. Its registered title was _Saints’ Society_, and the motto under
the title, chosen in confessed irony, was, “See how these Christians
love one another.” It existed for the express purpose of blackening the
character and showing up the weaknesses of all sections of the Church,
and was full of personalities of the vilest kinds. It would have done
less harm if it had been boycotted by respectable or even Christian
people, but too many women and some men bought the paper, and gloated
over it in semi-secret circles, because of what it told of individuals
whom they knew. The adults who did this could not perhaps be greatly
harmed by it, since, already, the process of deterioration must have
gone so far with their own characters that a little more made almost no
perceptible difference; but it was the young people in their families
who suffered most, and who, by hundreds throughout the land, were
declaring gleefully or angrily, according to their temperament, that
religion was a sham and a fraud, which they declined altogether to
uphold by any adhesion of theirs.
But the paper was chiefly supported by those who openly hated anything
bearing the Christian name. Certain individuals in some sections of the
Church had roused considerable antagonism by harassing, with piecemeal
legislation, the supporters of existing evils. They had not the energy
and perseverance, perhaps they had not the power, to destroy the wrongs
of which they complained—that would require a revolution—but they had
made it disagreeable for a good many people who coined money by, and
were otherwise interested in, the perpetuation of these wrongs, and this
had created a great amount of angry feeling. _The Saints’ Society
Journal_ was the outcome of revenge.
But in one respect the journal was serviceable. It threw a vivid light
upon the standard of excellence which the world expects in Christian
people, and many readers turned away from its columns with uneasy
consciences. Even _The Saints’ Society_ had a generous word for real
goodness, but for those who professed to be religious and yet were not
good it had no mercy. It devoted a whole page to paragraphs referring to
incidents in which professors fell below their ideal. The following are
illustrations from a single number of the paper:—
“ART AND ARTFUL.—One day last week a young lady brought a painting to
a fine art depository in the West-end, and asked the proprietor to buy
it for two pounds. He looked at it, and declared the price
ridiculously high, inquiring, with a sneer, where she got such a lofty
estimate of her own talents. She replied that she was in most urgent
need of two pounds, and felt sure that the picture was worth the
money. He told her to take her picture and clear out if she had no
more sense than that. Then she asked him what he would give her for
it; and he replied that he would pay her eighteen shillings. With
trembling lips she said eighteen shillings would not be enough, she
must have more; would he not make it twenty-five? No, he replied, not
a penny more than eighteen shillings. Eventually, she left it on sale
or return, and was to call again in two or three days. It was an
exquisite little gem, and before the day was ended it was sold. A
gentleman bought it for ten guineas. Two days later, the artist called
again and saw the proprietor. Was her picture sold? Oh yes, it was
sold, and there was the money for it—eighteen shillings. The poor girl
began hysterically to beg for more, and to ask in agony, what should
she do? The dealer in art ordered her to leave his premises, and not
make a scene, or it would become unpleasant for her; and after vainly
trying to melt the heart of stone of the art man, she went away
cursing him. But he is a much respected churchwarden of St. Ronald’s.
Could a wronged girl’s curse touch _him?_”
“GOING SHARES.—A gentleman had in his employment a skilled workman to
whom he paid thirty-five shillings a week, which is about the usual
wages for the sort of work he did. Ten years ago the workman saw how,
by a slight alteration in a machine, the work might be done much more
advantageously, and he told his master. ‘A very good idea, Smith,’ he
said; ‘can you manage to set it down in writing and make a drawing of
it?’ Smith did so, and the master had it patented. He has just died,
leaving a fortune of sixty thousand pounds, made chiefly, as all the
world knows, by that improved machine. Did he go shares with Smith?
Oh, yes! This is how he went shares: he gave him a pound for his idea;
and before he died Mr. Jones made things still more right by leaving
two hundred pounds to the hospital in which Smith is ending his days!”
“A CASE OF STARVATION has just been brought to light in King Court. A
screaming child attracted the notice of the police, who broke into the
room from which the sounds issued. A dead woman lay on the bare floor,
and by her side a naked female child was endeavouring to awaken the
mother. There was not a scrap of food in the place, and the only
furniture was a wooden stool, a table, a ginger-beer bottle, and an
old blanket, which partly covered the body of the corpse. The room was
a very small one; the floor was broken in several places; there were
three broken panes of glass in the window; the walls were damp and
dirty, and the ceiling far from waterproof. An inquest will be held
to-morrow. It has been ascertained by our detective that the woman
paid four shillings a week for this room. We had some difficulty in
finding the real owner of the house; but we have discovered him to be
Mr. John Smith, of Albert Buildings. Mr. Smith is a deacon of the Duke
Street Church. The woman made sacks. By working thirteen hours a day
she could earn tenpence. She was employed by Mr. Samuel Sneed, of
Thames Place. Mr. Sneed attends the church of Mole Street. He is the
respected leader of the Band of Hope.”
“A SHOCKING ACCIDENT has occurred in Westleigh, a London suburb, to
John Lane, the driver of a grocer’s van. His horse stumbled, and he
was thrown from his seat; the horse lost its footing and fell on the
unfortunate man. The vehicle was overturned, and it was with
difficulty the horse was removed; but when this had been accomplished
it was discovered that the man was dead. Two of his brothers
subsequently demanded his watch, each declaring himself to be the
elder, and the policeman gave it to the one whose appearance pointed
him out as the senior. A disgraceful fight ensued, during which the
watch got injured. The man has left a wife and three children; but as
the widow was too much overcome with grief to demand the watch for her
deceased husband’s eldest son, and no one spoke for her (_although two
parsons were in the crowd_), she has lost the watch as well as her
husband.”
“MODERN GIRLS.—On Sunday evening, at seven o’clock, the servant left
in charge of No. 1. Freeman Street, was summoned to the door by a loud
peal of the bell. As soon as she opened it, a company of rough girls
rushed in, pushing the servant violently into a back room and locking
her in. They then proceeded to ransack the house, and appropriated all
the money, jewellery, plate, and other moveable articles they could
find, after which they took what food there was, and departed. It is
satisfactory to be able to state that these girls—fifteen in
number—were found spending the stolen money in the Half Moon
public-house, in Bull Street—satisfactory, because so many of these
things have occurred lately, and the police have not been able to
detect the offenders. Unfortunately, however, thirteen of the girls
managed to escape after the policemen who endeavoured to arrest them
had been severely beaten, and the house in which they were found
almost wrecked by them. They were angry because the landlord did not
bar his doors against the upholders of the law, and declared that
they, who had hitherto been his best customers, would ruin him. Our
detective has interviewed two of the girls who escaped, and they have
informed him that every one of the fifteen had at some time or other
been scholars in a Sunday-school.”
“LAST NIGHT a band of boys and girls assembled in Oxford Street, and
for an hour held revelry there before the police succeeded in
dispersing them. Several persons were robbed, and an old lady was so
much hurt that she had to be taken to the hospital. The leader of the
gang was the son of the Rev. J. B. Yellowstone; and his seconder was
the son of Mr. Waller, an active Christian man and churchwarden.”
“A SAILOR’S FREAK.—A young man, who was under orders to sail and
return in the steamship _Smart_, has been summoned for neglect of
duty. He was one of Miss King’s saints, and having been converted and
signed the pledge, announced his intention of never sailing under a
flag which waved above a cargo of alcohol going to foreign shores. But
the young prig reckoned without his host. He was compelled to keep his
engagement, although he made the discovery that the _Smart_ carried
both London gin and Scotch and Irish whisky. Somewhere out at sea the
ship fell in with a fleet of fishing-boats. It was found that the
_Smart_ was licensed, and the captain ordered the lad to serve the
customers who floated round the ship. This he refused to do. He was
put in chains, and kept on a diet of bread and water. But his
insubordination was repeated on several occasions, both while the ship
was on the sea and when she was in port. His defence was that he did
not engage to be a barman in a floating grog-shop, but that his work
was to help sail the ship. The magistrate, however, informed him that
he was to do as his captain bade him, and in order to enforce the
lesson he gave him six months’ hard labour. Our grandmotherly
legislators will, no doubt, ask a question to-night in the House.”
But there were happier signs than these, which told that a new revival
was silently spreading among the churches. In confirmation of this, we
will give one more illustration from _Saints’ Society_.
“QUIXOTIC SAINTS.—We are informed that a very lively scene took place
at Green Place Chapel, at a church meeting. The subject under
consideration was the debt on the chapel. The building is one of the
most ornate in the neighbourhood, and has a pretty spire and
stained-glass windows. The seats are lined and cushioned throughout.
The pulpit is of marble—the gift of Mr. Golden, the well-known
distiller. Upon the chapel there is a debt of nearly four thousand
pounds. The minister feels the pressure of this debt, and besought his
people to do their utmost to lessen it. Mr. Smith, one of the leading
men, made the following remarks:—‘Our minister is not the only one who
would be glad to see this debt removed, and I for one am prepared to
do what I can. I have the pleasure to hand over to the treasurer, on
my own behalf, a second donation of thirty pounds. And I am happy to
say that my daughters have, during the past month, been working for
the cause. They have written seven hundred letters to well-known
persons in all parts of the country, begging for help; and though I
grieve that, so strong is the spirit of worldliness in the land, more
than two-thirds of the persons addressed have not even had the
courtesy to respond, they have yet received cheques and postal orders
to the amount of twenty-seven pounds eighteen shillings and sixpence.’
“A working man in the meeting said, ‘Sir, it is our chapel and we
ought to pay for it ourselves. It is well known that our brother whose
daughters have been flooding the land with begging letters could, if
he would, write a cheque for the whole amount of the debt. The place
has been built in accordance with his wish, and I for one hope he will
see his way to give instead of beg.’
“Mr. Shelve, a gentleman in the middle of the room, next arose with a
beaming smile upon his countenance. ‘I, sir,’ he said, ‘am the bearer
of good news. Like our friend Mr. Smith, I have written a few letters,
and in response to one of these I have received this cheque for one
hundred pounds, which I have much pleasure in presenting in the name
of the giver.’
“Very loud applause followed this announcement, and then a man asked,
in a quiet voice, ‘Will Mr. Shelve kindly give us the name of the
generous friend?’
“‘Certainly,’ was the reply. ‘The munificent gift is from Mr. William
Quellset.’
“‘Then,’ said the questioner, who was still on his feet, ‘I beg to
propose that we respectfully return this cheque to the sender. Mr.
William Quellset can well afford to give a hundred pounds to this
chapel, and he is anxious to stand well with the people of this
neighbourhood, whom he intends, if possible, to represent in
Parliament. But no blessing could go with any amount of money from
such a man.’
“There was some interruption, and the speaker corrected himself. ‘I
beg pardon; I know nothing of the personal character of Mr. Quellset.
I will therefore change the form of my words and say, No blessing
could go with money made as he makes his. I suppose everybody knows
that he is the patentee of those lozenges which are so attractive that
probably the wives and daughters of nine-tenths of the men present are
eating them every day—the lozenges to which he has not given the name
of opium, but which have done more than anything else to make
opium-eating universal amongst us. As our Government grows opium, and
is anxious to sell it, it has contented itself, as you know, with
imposing a duty on Mr. Quellset’s articles, and many a statesman
quiets his conscience in regard to this growing evil by telling
himself that the country is enriched by this increase to its revenue.
Sir, the country is being ruined by it. The drink has slain its
thousands and opium is slaying its tens of thousands. Mr. Quellset has
found out how to make it palatable, and he has grown enormously rich;
but surely, sir, we do not now live in days when men think they can
purchase pardon and heaven by presenting to the Church a small part of
their ill-gotten gains. I hope there may be found some one to second
my proposition.’
“‘I will do so,’ said a blunt, uneducated man, ‘and I cry shame on any
church which, for the sake of adorning its building, will in such a
way as Mr. Shelve proposes thus make friends of the mammon of
unrighteousness.’
“‘Sir,’ said another, ‘I move that the grateful thanks of this church
be presented to Mr. Quellset for his munificent gift. We have been
patiently listening to a lot of arrant nonsense. We have nothing to do
with the way in which a man chooses to make his money. If we had, I
should say that Mr. Quellset has done the country more good than harm.
He has found a new employment for men, women, and children. He pays
better wages for box-making and all the other branches of his
industries than they could earn in many ways. It is not yet proved
that opium does more harm than alcohol; and, for my own part, I
believe that all these good gifts of God, taken in moderation, are
useful. And, besides, beggars must not be choosers, and it would be an
insane thing to return a man’s money when we need it so much.’
“Nevertheless” [added the journal], “this Quixotic company of saints
decided by a majority to return the cash, and pay its debts by the
practice of its own self-denial and generosity.”
There were many quiet souls filled with piety and patriotism who thanked
God and took courage when they heard this, for there was a leaven
working in the real Christian society of the day which was destined
eventually to bring about a marvellous change.
And this change, like almost everything else in England, had to do with
politics.