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Robert Louis Stevenson - "The Project Gutenberg Etext of New Arabian Nights"

Henry James - "The Marriages"

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In Darkest England and The Way Out

G >> General William Booth >> In Darkest England and The Way Out




I am under no delusion as to the possibility of inaugurating a
millennium by my Scheme; but the triumphs of science deal so much with
the utilisation of waste material, that I do not despair of something
effectual being accomplished in the utilisation of this waste human
product. The refuse which was a drug and a curse to our manufacturers,
when treated under the hands of the chemist, has been the means of
supplying us with dyes rivalling in loveliness and variety the hues of
the rainbow. If the alchemy of science can extract beautiful colours
from coal tar, cannot Divine alchemy enable us to evolve gladness and
brightness out of the agonised hearts and dark, dreary, loveless lives
of these doomed myriads? Is it too much to hope that in God's world
God's children may be able to do something, if they set to work with a
will, to carry out a plan of campaign against these great evils which
are the nightmare of our existence?

The remedy, it may be, is simpler than some imagine. The key to the
enigma may lie closer to our hands than we have any idea of.
Many devices have been tried, and many have failed, no doubt;
it is only stubborn, reckless perseverance that can hope to succeed;
it is well that we recognise this. How many ages did men try to make
gunpowder and never succeeded? They would put saltpetre to charcoal,
or charcoal to sulphur, or saltpetre to sulphur, and so were ever
unable to make the compound explode. But it has only been discovered
within the last few hundred years that all three were needed.
Before that gunpowder was a mere imagination, a phantasy of the
alchemists. How easy it is to make gunpowder, now the secret of its
manufacture is known!

But take a simpler illustration, one which lies even within the memory
of some that read these pages. From the beginning of the world down to
the beginning of this century, mankind had not found out, with all its
striving after cheap and easy transport, the miraculous difference that
would be brought about by laying down two parallel lines of metal.
All the great men and the wise men of the past lived and died oblivious
of that fact. The greatest mechanicians and engineers of antiquity,
the men who bridged all the rivers of Europe, the architects who built
the cathedrals which are still the wonder of the world, failed to
discern what seems to us so obviously simple a proposition, that two
parallel lines of rail would diminish the cost and difficulty of
transport to a minimum. Without that discovery the steam engine, which
has itself been an invention of quite recent years, would have failed
to transform civilisation.

What we have to do in the philanthropic sphere is to find something
analogous to the engineers' parallel bars. This discovery think I have
made, and hence have I written this book.


SECTION 2--MY SCHEME

What, then, is my Scheme? It is a very simple one, although in its
ramifications and extensions it embraces the whole world. In this book
I profess to do no more than to merely outline, as plainly and as
simply as I can, the fundamental features of my proposals. I propose
to devote the bulk of this volume to setting forth what can practically
be done with one of the most pressing parts of the problem, namely,
that relating to those who are out of work, and who, as the result,
are more or less destitute. I have many ideas of what might be done
with those who are at present cared for in some measure by the State,
but I will leave these ideas for the present.

It is not urgent that I should explain how our Poor Law system could be
reformed, or what I should like to see done for the Lunatics in
Asylums, or the Criminals in Gaols. The persons who are provided for by
the State we will, therefore, for the moment, leave out of count.
The indoor paupers, the convicts, the inmates of the lunatic asylums
are cared for, in a fashion; already. But, over and above all these,
there exists some hundreds of thousands who are not quartered on the
State, but who are living on the verge of despair, and who at any
moment, under circumstances of misfortune, might be compelled to demand
relief or support in one shape or another. I will confine myself,
therefore, for the present to those who have no helper.

It is possible, I think probable, if the proposals which I am now
putting forward are carried out successfully in relation to the lost,
homeless, and helpless of the population, that many of those who are at
the present moment in somewhat better circumstances will demand that
they also shall be allowed to partake in the benefits of the Scheme.
But upon this, also, I remain silent. I merely remark that we have,
in the recognition of the importance of discipline and organisation;
what may be called regimented co-operation, a principle that will be
found valuable for solving many social problems other than that of
destitution. Of these plans, which are at present being brooded over
with a view to their realisation when the time is propitious and the
opportunity occurs, I shall have something to say.

What is the outward and visible form of the Problem of the Unemployed?
Alas! we are all too familiar with it for any lengthy description to
be necessary. The social problem presents itself before us whenever a
hungry, dirty and ragged man stands at our door asking if we can give
him a crust or a job. That is the social question. What are you to do
with that man? He has no money in his pocket, all that he can pawn he
has pawned long ago, his stomach is as empty as his purse, and the
whole of the clothes upon his back, even if sold on the best terms,
would not fetch a shilling. There he stands, your brother, with
sixpennyworth of rags to cover his nakedness from his fellow men and
not sixpennyworth of victuals within his reach. He asks for work,
which he will set to even on his empty stomach and in his ragged
uniform, if so be that you will give him something for it, but his
hands are idle, for no one employs him. What are you to do with that
man? That is the great note of interrogation that confronts Society
to-day. Not only in overcrowded England, but in newer countries beyond
the sea, where Society has not yet provided a means by which the men
can be put upon the land and the land be made to feed the men.
To deal with this man is the Problem of the Unemployed. To deal with
him effectively you must deal with him immediately, you must provide
him in some way or other at once with food, and shelter, and warmth.
Next you must find him something to do, something that will test the
reality of his desire to work. This test must be more or less
temporary, and should be of such a nature as to prepare him for making
a permanent livelihood. Then, having trained him, you must provide him
wherewithal to start life afresh. All these things I propose to do.
My Scheme divides itself into three sections, each of which is
indispensable for the success of the whole. In this three-fold
organisation lies the open secret of the solution of the Social Problem.

The Scheme I have to offer consists in the formation of these people
into self-helping and self-sustaining communities, each being a kind of
co-operative society, or patriarchal family, governed and disciplined
on the principles which have already proved so effective in the
Salvation Army.


These communities we will call, for want of a better term, Colonies.
There will be: --

(1) The City Colony.
(2) The Farm Colony.
(3) The Over-Sea Colony.


THE CITY COLONY.

By the City Colony is meant the establishment, in the very centre of
the ocean of misery of which we have been speaking, of a number of
Institutions to act as Harbours of Refuge for all and any who have been
shipwrecked in life, character, or circumstances. These Harbours will
gather up the poor destitute creatures, supply their immediate pressing
necessities, furnish temporary employment, inspire them with hope for
the future, and commence at once a course of regeneration by moral and
religious influences.

From these Institutions, which are hereafter described, numbers would,
after a short time, be floated off to permanent employment, or sent
home to friends happy to receive them on hearing of their reformation.
All who remain on our hands would, by varied means, be tested as to
their sincerity, industry, and honesty, and as soon as satisfaction was
created, be passed on to the Colony of the second class.


THE FARM COLONY.

This would consist of a settlement of the Colonists on an estate in the
provinces, in the culture of which they would find employment and
obtain support. As the race from the Country to the City has been the
cause of much of the distress we have to battle with, we propose to
find a substantial part of our remedy by transferring these same people
back to the country, that is back again to "the Garden!"

Here the process of reformation of character would be carried forward
by the same industrial, moral, and religious methods as have already
been commenced in the City, especially including those forms of labour
and that knowledge of agriculture which, should the Colonist not
obtain employment in this country, will qualify him for pursuing his
fortunes under more favourable circumstances in some other land.

From the Farm, as from the City, there can be no question that large
numbers, resuscitated in health and character, would be restored to
friends up and down the country. Some would find employment in their
own callings, others would settle in cottages on a small piece of land
that we should provide, or on Co-operative Farms which we intend to
promote; while the great bulk, after trial and training, would be
passed on to the Foreign Settlement, which would constitute our third
class, namely The Over-Sea Colony.


THE OVER-SEA COLONY.

All who have given attention to the subject are agreed that in our
Colonies in South Africa, Canada, Western Australia and elsewhere,
there are millions of acres of useful land to be obtained almost for
the asking, capable of supporting our surplus population in health and
comfort, were it a thousand times greater than it is. We propose to
secure a tract of land in one of these countries, prepare it for
settlement, establish in it authority, govern it by equitable laws,
assist it in times of necessity, settling it gradually with a prepared
people, and so create a home for these destitute multitudes.

The Scheme, in its entirety, may aptly be compared to A Great Machine,
foundationed in the lowest slums and purlieus of our great towns and
cities, drawing up into its embrace the depraved and destitute of all
classes; receiving thieves, harlots, paupers, drunkards, prodigals,
all alike, on the simple conditions of their being willing to work and
to conform to discipline. Drawing up these poor outcasts, reforming
them, and creating in them habits of industry, honesty, and truth;
teaching them methods by which alike the bread that perishes and that
which endures to Everlasting Life can be won. Forwarding them from the
City to the Country, and there continuing the process of regeneration,
and then pouring them forth on to the virgin soils that await their
coming in other lands, keeping hold of them with a strong government,
and yet making them free men and women; and so laying the foundations,
perchance, of another Empire to swell to vast proportions in later
times. Why not?

CHAPTER 2. TO THE RESCUE!--THE CITY COLONY.

The first section of my Scheme is the establishment of a Receiving
House for the Destitute in every great centre of population. We start,
let us remember, from the individual, the ragged, hungry, penniless man
who confronts us with despairing demands for food, shelter, and work.
Now, I have had some two or three years' experience in dealing with
this class. I believe, at the present moment, the Salvation Army
supplies more food and shelter to the destitute than any other
organisation in London, and it is the experience and encouragement
which I have gained in the working of these Food and Shelter Depots
which has largely encouraged me to propound this scheme.


SECTION 1.--FOOD AND SHELTER FOR EVERY MAN.

As I rode through Canada and the United States some three years ago,
I was greatly impressed with the superabundance of food which I saw at
every turn. Oh, how I longed that the poor starving people, and the
hungry children of the East of London and of other centres of our
destitute populations, should come into the midst of this abundance,
but as it appeared impossible for me to take them to it, I secretly
resolved that I would endeavour to bring some of it to them.
I am thankful to say that I have already been able to do so on a small
scale, and hope to accomplish it ere long on a much vaster one.

With this view, the first Cheap Food Depot was opened in the East of
London two and a half years ago. This has been followed by others,
and we have now three establishments: others are being arranged for.

Since the commencement in 1888, we have supplied over three and a half
million meals. Some idea can be formed of the extent to which these
Food and Shelter Depots have already struck their roots into the strata
of Society which it is proposed to benefit, by the following figures,
which give the quantities of food sold during the year at our Food
Depots.

FOOD SOLD IN DEPOTS AND SHELTERS DURING 1889.

Article Weight Measure Remarks
Soup ......... 116,400 gallons
Bread 192.5 tons 106,964 4-lb loaves
Tea 2.5 tons 46,980 gallons
Coffee 15 cwt. 13,949 gallons
Cocoa 6 tons 29,229 gallons
Sugar 25 tons ..................... 300 bags
Potatoes 140 tons ..................... 2,800 bags
Flour 18 tons ..................... 180 sacks
Peaflour 28.5 tons ..................... 288 sacks
Oatmeal 3.5 tons ..................... 36 sacks
Rice 12 tons ..................... 120 sacks
Beans 12 tons ..................... 240 sacks
Onions and parsnips 12 tons ..................... 240 sacks
Jam 9 tons ..................... 2,880 jars
Marmalade 6 tons ..................... 1,920 jars
Meat 15 tons .....................
Milk .......... 14,300 quarts

This includes returns from three Food Depots and five Shelters.
I propose to multiply their number, to develop their usefulness,
and to make them the threshold of the whole Scheme. Those who have
already visited our Depots will understand exactly what th is means.
The majority, however, of the readers of these pages have not done so,
and for them it is necessary to explain what they are.

At each of our Depots, which can be seen by anybody that cares to take
the trouble to visit them, there are two departments, one dealing with
food, the other with shelter. Of these both are worked together and
minister to the same individuals. Many come for food who do not come
for shelter, although most of those who come for shelter also come for
food, which is sold on terms to cover, as nearly as possible, the cost
price and working expenses of the establishment. In this our Food
Depots differ from the ordinary soup kitchens.

There is no gratuitous distribution of victuals. The following is our
Price List: --

WHAT IS SOLD AT THE FOOD DEPOTS.

For a child

Soup Per Basin 1/4d
Soup With Bread 1/2d
Coffee or Cocoa per cup 1/4d
Coffee or Cocoa With Bread and Jam 1/2d

For adults

Soup .. .. .. Per Basin 1/2d
Soup .. .. .. With Bread 1d
Potatoes .. .. .. .. .. 1/2d
Cabbage .. .. .. .. .. 1/2d
Haricot Beans .. .. .. .. 1/2d
Boiled Jam Pudding .. .. .. 1/2d
Boiled Plum Pudding .. .. Each 1d
Rice .. .. .. .. .. .. 1/2d
Baked Plum .. .. .. .. 1/2d
Baked Jam Roll .. .. .. .. 1/2d
Meat Pudding and Potatoes .. .. 3d
Corned Beef .. .. .. .. 2d
Corned Mutton .. .. .. .. 2d
Coffee per cup 1/2d; per mug 1d
Cocoa per cup 1/2d; per mug 1d
Tea per cup 1/2d; per mug 1d
Bread & Butter, Jam or Marmalade per slice 1/2d

Soup in own Jugs, 1d per Quart. Ready at 10 a.m.

A certain discretionary power is vested in the Officers in charge of
the Depot, and they can in very urgent cases give relief, but the rule
is for the food to be paid for, and the financial results show that
working expenses are just about covered.

These Cheap Food Depots I have no doubt have been and are or great
service to numbers of hungry starving men, women, and children, at the
prices just named, which must be within the reach of all, except the
absolutely penniless; but it is the Shelter that I regard as the most
useful feature in this part of our undertaking, for if anything is to
be done to get hold of those who use the Depot, some more favourable
opportunity must be afforded than is offered by the mere coming into
the food store to get, perhaps, only a basin of soup. This part of the
Scheme I propose to extend very considerably.

Suppose that you are a casual in the streets of London, homeless,
friendless, weary with looking for work all day and finding none.
Night comes on. Where are you to go? You have perhaps only a few
coppers, or it may be, a few shillings, left of the rapidly dwindling
store of your little capital. You shrink from sleeping in the open
air; you equally shrink from going to the fourpenny Dosshouse where,
in the midst of strange and ribald company, you may be robbed of the
remnant of the money still in your possession. While at a loss as to
what to do, someone who sees you suggests that you should go to our
Shelter. You cannot, of course, go to the Casual Ward of the Workhouse
as long as you have any money in your possession. You come along to
one of our Shelters. On entering you pay fourpence, and are free of
the establishment for the night. You can come in early or late.
The company begins to assemble about five o'clock in the afternoon.
In the women's Shelter you find that many come much earlier and sit
sewing, reading or chatting in the sparely furnished but well warmed
room from the early hours of the afternoon until bedtime.

You come in, and you get a large pot of coffee, tea, or cocoa,
and a hunk of bread. You can go into the wash-house, where you can
have a wash with plenty of warm water, and soap and towels free.
Then after having washed and eaten you can make yourself comfortable.
You can write letters to your friends, if you have any friends to
write to, or you can read, or you can sit quietly and do nothing.
At eight o'clock the Shelter is tolerably full, and then begins what
we consider to be the indispensable feature of the whole concern.
Two or three hundred men in the men's Shelter, or as many women in the
women's Shelter, are collected together, most of them strange to each
other, in a large room. They are all wretchedly poor--what are you
to do with them? This is what we do with them.

We hold a rousing Salvation meeting. The Officer in charge of the
Depot, assisted by detachments from the Training Homes, conducts a
jovial free-and-easy social evening. The girls have their banjos and
their tambourines, and for a couple of hours you have as lively a
meeting as you will find in London. There is prayer, short and to the
point; there are addresses, some delivered by the leaders of the
meeting, but the most of them the testimonies of those who have been
saved at previous meetings, and who, rising in their seats, tell their
companions their experiences. Strange experiences they often are of
those who have been down in the very bottomless depths of sin and vice
and misery, but who have found at last firm footing on which to stand,
and who are, as they say in all sincerity, "as happy as the day is
long." There is a joviality and a genuine good feeling at some of these
meetings which is refreshing to the soul. There are all sorts and
conditions of men; casuals, gaol birds, Out-of-Works, who have come
there for the first time, and who find men who last week or last month
were even as they themselves are now--still poor but rejoicing in a
sense of brotherhood and a consciousness of their being no longer
outcasts and forlorn in this wide world. There are men who have at
last seen revive before them a hope of escaping from that dreadful
vortex, into which their sins and misfortunes had drawn them, and being
restored to those comforts that they had feared so long were gone for
ever; nay, of rising to live a true and Godly life. These tell their
mates how this has come about, and urge all who hear them to try for
themselves and see whether it is not a good and happy thing to be
soundly saved. In the intervals of testimony--and these testimonies,
as every one will bear me witness who has ever attended any of our
meetings, are not long, sanctimonious lackadaisical speeches, but
simple confessions of individual experience--there are bursts of
hearty melody. The conductor of the meeting will start up a verse or
two of a hymn illustrative of the experiences mentioned by the last
speaker, or one of the girls from the Training Home will sing a solo,
accompanying herself on her instrument, while all join in a rattling
and rollicking chorus.

There is no compulsion upon anyone of our dossers to take part in this
meeting; they do not need to come in until it is over; but as a simple
matter of fact they do come in. Any night between eight and ten o'clock
you will find these people sitting there, listening to the
exhortations and taking part in the singing, many of them, no doubt,
unsympathetic enough, but nevertheless preferring to be present with
the music and the warmth, mildly stirred, if only by curiosity,
as the various testimonies are delivered.

Sometimes these testimonies are enough to rouse the most cynical of
observers. We had at one of our shelters the captain of an ocean
steamer, who had sunk to the depths of destitution through strong
drink. He came in there one night utterly desperate and was taken in
hand by our people--and with us taking in hand is no mere phrase,
for at the close of our meetings our officers go from seat to seat,
and if they see anyone who shows signs of being affected by the
speeches or the singing, at once sit down beside him and begin to
labour with him for the salvation of his soul. By this means they are
able to get hold of the men and to know exactly where the difficulty
lies, what the trouble is, and if they do nothing else, at least
succeed in convincing them that there is someone who cares for their
soul and would do what he could to lend them a helping hand.

The captain of whom I was speaking was got hold of in this way.
He was deeply impressed, and was induced to abandon once and for all
his habits of intemperance. From that meeting he went an altered man.
He regained his position in the merchant service, and twelve months
afterwards astonished us all by appearing in the uniform of a captain
of a large ocean steamer, to testify to those who were there how low he
had been, how utterly he had lost all hold on Society and all hope of
the future, when, fortunately led to the Shelter, he found friends,
counsel, and salvation, and from that time had never rested until he
had regained the position which he had forfeited by his intemperance.

The meeting over, the singing girls go back to the Training Home,
and the men prepare for bed. Our sleeping arrangements are somewhat
primitive; we do not provide feather beds, and when you go into our
dormitories, you will be surprised to find the floor covered by what
look like an endless array of packing cases. These are our beds,
and each of them forms a cubicle. There is a mattress laid on the
floor, and over the mattress a leather apron, which is all the
bedclothes that we find it possible to provide. The men undress,
each by the side of his packing box, and go to sleep under their
leather covering. The dormitory is warmed with hot water pipes to a
temperature of 60 degrees, and there has never been any complaint of
lack of warmth on the part of those who use the Shelter. The leather
can be kept perfectly clean, and the mattresses, covered with American
cloth, are carefully inspected every day, so that no stray specimen of
vermin may be left in the place. The men turn in about ten o'clock and
sleep until six. We have never any disturbances of any kind in the
Shelters. We have provided accommodation now for several thousand of
the most helplessly broken-down men in London, criminals many of them,
mendicants, tramps, those who are among the filth and offscouring of
all things; but such is the influence that is established by the
meeting and the moral ascendancy of our officers themselves, that we
have never had a fight on the premises, and very seldom do we ever hear
an oath or an obscene word. Sometimes there has been trouble outside
the Shelter, when men insisted upon coming in drunk or were otherwise
violent; but once let them come to the Shelter, and get into the swing
of the concern, and we have no trouble with them. In the morning they
get up and have their breakfast and, after a short service, go off
their various ways. We find that we can do this, that is to say, we
can provide coffee and bread for breakfast and for supper, and a
shake-down on the floor in the packing-boxes I have described in a warm
dormitory for fourpence a head.

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