CHAPTER XII.

Obstacles: Who shall remove them?

O royal island, beautiful and fair! There are who aid when ev’n thy statesmen sleep, With the soft voice of prayer.

EACH year’s intimacy with the interesting people of whom I have written has afforded fresh information, so that I find myself embarrassed with a multitude of facts; and after six years’ experience, selection from the accumulation of details is the only difficulty. It would be easy to multiply scenes of interest, equalling any already described; but if enough have been given to awaken sympathy, and stimulate to exertion, my object is accomplished. A few observations on subjects of great importance, not prominently brought forward in any of the preceding narratives, will be sufficient to close the whole.

One of the greatest obstacles which meets those who are striving to improve the homes of the poor is the construction of dwellings. There are whole streets of houses in this neighbourhood, whose appearance gives you the idea that they were originally designed for a higher class of people; and yet the builder must have known that the supply of such houses was already much beyond the demand, and that, if let at all, the inmates must be poor. Nothing, however, adapts them for this class of inhabitants. Five or six families may occasionally be found in one such house, with no more provision for health, comfort, and decency, than ought to be made for each one.

The houses professedly erected for the poor are still more deficient. They are sometimes built below the level of the road, so that the drainage is _to_ them, instead of _from_ them. The basements are consequently fearfully damp, and the whole atmosphere, in every part of the house, is impregnated with the effluvia from stagnant sewage.

The materials used in buildings are so bad, and the workmanship so inferior, that the floors are always loose, and everything seems constantly getting out of order. We have whole streets of small six-roomed houses let out entirely to the poor; so that three families frequently live in one house. _There is no outlet to the air at the back of these dwellings_, _either by door or by window_. One long, blank wall is all that is to be seen. Frequent illness prevails among the inhabitants of these streets, and I can never forget the scenes presented there during the visitation of the cholera. I cannot bear to dwell upon them, but, for the sake of my subject, I must mention one case. In a small bed-room on the top floor of one of these dwellings I found, one morning, that a woman and a child had died in the night; and another woman in the same room, though still living, appeared in a dying state. I shudder when I think of that room; no pen can describe its horrors. It was a close, hot morning in July, not a breath of air was stirring. The window was thrown up at the bottom; it could not be opened at the top; and as there was no draught through the house to draw the air into the room, very little relief could be obtained. The dying woman was the mother of little children, and I would have given anything to save her. The only possible expedient that suggested itself to me was to have some of the bricks forced out of the back wall. This was done; but all was in vain, the poor mother died, surviving her husband only a few days; and the little children either cried in the street, or were cared for by a neighbour, till they were taken away to the workhouse.

As I left that street, I could think only of the words—“It is of the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed.” The contrivances of men seemed so fraught with destruction, that, if it were not for the interposition of God, the consequences would be still more disastrous.

I sat down as soon as I reached home, and wrote a letter to the editor of the _Times_, describing the scenes I had witnessed that morning, calling his attention particularly to the construction of those houses; and then asked, in the bitterness of my heart, if, with all our extensive and costly paraphernalia of government, nothing could be done to stop this awful waste of comfort, health, and life. The importance of the subject at once commended itself. The narrative not only appeared, but was backed by every argument and appeal that the talented pen of the editor could bring to bear upon it. But there it ended: no steps have been taken to make the construction of such dwellings contrary to the law of the land. Many fathers, mothers, and children, too, have since died in those streets; only, in these cases, by lingering fever, instead of by sudden cholera. Surely the cries of distress must have ascended again and again, and have “entered into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth!”

But there is still a darker side to this grievance. The death of the few is less calculated to excite our compassion, than the miserable, lingering existence of the many. When I see the little boys and girls playing before the doors, often with crooked backs or crooked limbs, with emaciated forms and faces, if not with still more unmistakable marks of disease, I cannot help thinking,—Are these boys to be our future working-men, upon whose sinew and muscle we are to depend for cultivating our soil, constructing our railways, sinking our mines, and defending our country; and are these girls to be the mothers of the next generation?

There was mercy, as well as judgment, in the punishment that followed the disobedience of our first parents. The sentence, “In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat bread,” is not an unmitigated evil. The most active persons are generally the most cheerful; and the hard workers are usually happier than the deep thinkers. But when the body, which God intended and adapted for labour, has, by the habitual violation of the laws of health, during all its first years, become enfeebled and deranged, the necessity for exertion becomes a _painful_ reality, and may, indeed, be looked upon as a curse—as “the dark cloud without a silver lining.”

There is a deeper meaning than some suppose in that constant application for “light places,” of which we hear so much. Some tell us, it is all indolence; and thus on the surface it often appears. But surely there must be some cause, even for indolence. A child of good constitution, and where health has been judiciously cared for, becomes, as soon as he is able to manifest his power, almost inconveniently active. The nurse complains that “he will never bide still;” that she “can’t get a minute’s peace for him;” that “there is no end to the mischief he does.” Now, a child is not active from principle, nor because he feels it would be wrong to be indolent. He has not to be instructed to move, although he sometimes has to be taught to be still. Activity is the joy of his life, and would doubtless continue so, if it were not for the evil influences that are permitted to surround the body, marring God’s beautiful work, and bringing down the dishonouring reflection upon the Creator, that man, as he is constituted, is “not strong enough for his place.”

A friend of mine was changing her residence a short time ago. She wished to retain throughout the day the men who were employed in removing her furniture; she therefore provided a dinner for them at her own house, to prevent the necessity of their returning home. Some meat-pies were warmed for them, which had been made the previous day; and this, with the addition of hot potatoes, made a nice dinner. As the men left in the evening, they thanked her for their good dinner, especially that she had taken the trouble to have it made _hot_ for them; “for you see, ma’am,” they added, “there is such nasty air in the places where we sleep, that we never care to eat when we get up in the morning; nor yet much at any other time, except it is made tasty, like, for us.”

If such is the case, whence is the strength for labour to come? The workman’s livelihood depends upon his ability to work. He may not leave off to rest because he is tired. This is a sad subject, and it reveals to us the great source of intemperance. Is it any wonder that, if a man has a few pence in his pocket, he cannot pass the doors of a public-house without feeling a strong temptation to go in and purchase what, though imparting no strength, enables him to forget for a time the miseries of his existence?

There are two things which I cannot understand: 1st, That the government should do so little for the people in the way of sanitary reform; and, 2d, that the people should so seldom ask them to do more. It is a matter of much regret that the only subjects which our legislators take up, when they come among their constituents, are such topics as “Extension of the Franchise,” “Vote by Ballot,” “Electoral Districts,” “Foreign Policy;” while Education, Temperance, and Sanitary Science are completely excluded.

It would be interesting to go through the Parliamentary reports of a year, and note what proportion of time the representatives of the people spend in doing or saying anything that has reference to the moral and physical elevation or general well-being of their constituents. I am quite willing to acknowledge that my want of appreciation of what is actually done may arise from an inability to comprehend the magnitude and importance of these subjects to the country. But, granting this, may it not at the same time justly be said, “These ought ye to have done, and not to have left the other undone?”

I must confess that, up to the present moment, I cannot comprehend how _anything_ can be more advantageous to the country than the elevation of its own people. This need not, at the present day, be undertaken hopelessly. Enough has already been accomplished, through Ragged Schools alone, to shew what can be done. Most of the evils from which our poor people suffer are fortunately removable. They do not arise from bad climate, unfruitful soil, determined hostility on the part of the governed, or determined oppression on the part of the governors.

The way in which the poor usually respond to efforts made for their relief, the patience and forbearance they manifest in times of public calamity, are most encouraging to witness, and prove that “English hearts and English hands” are worthy of the assistance which an active and sensible government could extend to them. I cannot think of anything, at the present time, that would be so helpful to the poor as suitable, well-adapted houses to live in. The miserable places which they are now compelled to call homes have a great deal to do with _all_ the immorality that is to be found among them. No one, who has taken the trouble to investigate the matter, can doubt this for a moment; and as long as there are people in the world unconscientious enough to erect such dwellings for the poor as those we have described, it must surely be a right and proper thing for the legislature to step in and say, “We will not stand by and see our people mentally, morally, and physically degraded in this way: we interpose our authority, and insist that such-and-such modes of construction can no longer be permitted.”

But we must also consider the other side of the subject—the indifference of the working-classes themselves in obtaining assistance from their rulers. The fact is, they so seldom hear that any but purely political matters claim attention, that they can hardly realise the possibility of being helped by government out of any domestic difficulties. Nothing, however, can justify their foolish clamour for what, if obtained, could in no way benefit them. I have often told working-men that, so long as they continue to ask for stones when they want bread, they must expect only to get stones.

I once witnessed a very exciting election, from the windows of a house at Bath. I shall never forget the sight of that sea of human faces, which extended as far as the eye could reach, and all directed towards the hustings. It was a cloudless day in July. The sun beat piteously down upon the many uncovered heads, yet there they stood—this closely-packed mass of people—from ten or eleven in the morning till two or three o’clock in the afternoon, enduring an amount of torture that was worthy of a better cause. A gentleman, who was witnessing it from the same window, was greatly distressed at the sight; and, at last, when some one was carried out of the crowd in an unconscious state, he stamped his foot, and, as if he could bear it no longer, exclaimed—

“I have no patience with it—such a set of muffs broiling themselves to death under the sun, and shouting themselves hoarse, for they don’t know what. If there were any chance of their getting any good out of it, I might respect them for their powers of endurance.”

“Yes,” I said; “if, for instance, they were agitating that a bill might be brought into Parliament for making it the law of the land that all windows should be made to open at the top as well as at the bottom.”

“Just so,” replied my friend; “or that wages were always to be paid before four o’clock on Saturday afternoon. Yes, I could respect them for _that_, instead of despising them, as, upon my word, I now do, for their much ado about nothing; that is, about nothing to them.”

I am, however, induced to think, from much which I have met in my own experience, and also from what I have heard through other observers, that among the better class of working-men (a class whose value and importance to this country cannot be over-estimated) there is a sincere wish to avail themselves of the assistance of any helping hand held out to their relief. They have often confided to me their troubles, with the simplicity and earnestness of children, and have asked—

“Do you think, ma’am, you could do anything for us? We should be so glad, if you could put us up to some better way of getting on.”

This subject is worth every attention, even with those who take no higher ground than what will _pay_. How many of the victims of unhealthy houses are now crowding into our hospitals, asylums, and workhouses, a burden to their country, living upon its wealth, instead of adding to it by their activity and skill! Sin and sorrow, in this world, are inseparable. Neglect and bad management have made the very class intended by a wise and kind Creator as the spring of the country’s greatest wealth, to become a source of great trouble and expense.

If there is any doubt as to the _duty_ of caring more for the poor, we have only to look at the example of Him who went about doing good, who, “when He saw the multitudes, had compassion upon them.” We cannot, like Him, heal the sick and cleanse the leper; but, by the use of appointed means, how much sickness and moral leprosy may be prevented!

If the government of this country would, in this way, follow the steps of “another King, even Jesus,” doing justly, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God, then might we look for the fulfilment of the promise—“I will open the windows of heaven, and pour out upon you such a blessing as there shall be scarce room to contain.” And now that dark clouds are rising around our political horizon, and many hearts are failing them for fear, is it not a time to turn unto God in the way that He has Himself marked out?—“Is not this the fast that I have chosen: to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house: when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy health shall spring forth speedily.”

When we contemplate how great a change would be wrought in a nation, were its rulers men fearing God, and hating covetousness, and, like Daniel, going many times a-day to ask counsel of the Lord, we seem to see the pen moving in the hand of the recording angel, as he writes, “No weapon formed against it shall prosper.”

We must return for a moment to our own more immediate work. In consequence of the disadvantage to which we have alluded, we have not been able to effect all the improvement we could wish in the dwellings of our poor mothers; but, by the introduction of cleanliness, order, and ventilation, the aspect of many homes has been much changed. Soon after we commenced these meetings, we spent the greater part of one evening in explaining the nature and effects of pure air and ventilation, and illustrating the subject in various ways. The listeners were startled at the facts brought before them: and by their unfeigned expressions of astonishment, it was evident that their ideas on the subject, and nature’s intentions, were quite at variance. Several months afterwards, on entering a house where two of our poor mothers lived, I was pleased to observe how clean and well-ventilated it was. On remarking this, one of the women said—“Ah! that was a wonderful evening when you told us all about what air we could live upon, and what we couldn’t. I says to Mrs L—, as we were going home, ‘There now, we have been a-shutting up our windows, and thinking we were shutting the _pizen_ out, instead of which we were shutting of it in.’ I soon got my window made to open at the top, and it has never been quite shut since; for we always sleeps six in this room. The neighbours did say, at first, that we should catch our deaths; but they soon saw that we were so much better, that half the people in the street open their windows at the top now.”

This same woman came to me a few weeks ago, and told me that she had lately removed into another street, where the houses were apparently of a better order than those she had left; but after the first week or two, she found that, in consequence of a drain-pipe being out of order, they were constantly subjected to an unpleasant smell. “I tell my landlord of it,” she said, “every Monday morning when I pay my rent; and he always says to me, ‘I’ll send a man here in a day or two, and have it put to rights;’ and that have been going on now for six weeks, and nobody has been a-near the place to do anything yet. I have two children ill with fever; and we all wake of a morning now with that old miserable, sick, tired feeling we used to have before you told us how to manage better. My boys said this morning, ‘Mother, the work do seem so hard now, to what it used to.’ You know, ma’am, the work isn’t no difference; but we are all getting pizen’d with that nasty smell; and it do seem so hard to me, for I have never had no illness to speak of among ’em all, for the last four years.”

At a very early period in our meeting we introduced a whitewash brush. This is lent to any of the mothers who apply for it. It is very frequently out; indeed, in the spring of the year, it is seldom at home. As many as seven or eight of these brushes have been worn out in the service of the society since its commencement. A thick iron saucepan is also kept at the house of one of our missionaries, and lent for the purpose of soup-making. Each member is supplied with a large printed receipt, giving particular direction for the composition of this soup. This receipt is so valuable, that I intend placing it at the end of this book.

There is one other subject to which I wish to refer, before laying aside my pen. An objection has sometimes been raised to the establishment of Mothers’ Societies, on the ground that it is wrong to offer these poor women any inducement to leave their homes; that accident may arise from their absence; that the husband may be dissatisfied, and so forth. A lady once reminded a working-man of these objections; he roughly replied, “What’s the use of a woman being always at home, if she can’t do nothing—no good, when she is there? Now she does pick up something at the meeting, and we are all a sight better off the rest of the week for her going there a bit.” Another lady, visiting at one of their houses, asked the husband how he liked having to remain at home, and take care of the children, while his wife was at the meeting. His reply was, “I should think, ma’am, that was little enough for me to do for all the good my wife gets there. She is always bringing home bits of clothes for some of us that she makes there, besides lots of things to talk about.”

It must be evident to all, that it is not possible for any mother to spend every hour of her life at home. When, unfortunately, she is obliged to assist in the maintenance of the family, many hours of absence have to be provided for; and it is not more difficult to arrange for her absence at the Mothers’ Meeting than anywhere else. Children, from the age of one to seven, are generally in bed before seven o’clock; older children are not so likely to get into mischief; and the baby, if necessary, can be brought with the mother.

It is not desirable, however, that any president should require regularity of attendance. The illness of their husbands or children, and many other things that may arise, ought, of course, to keep the mothers at home. When they have come to me to apologise for their absence, as they frequently do, I have generally to say, “I should indeed have been sorry to have seen you here under such circumstances.”

There is surely some want of sympathy in the hearts of those who continue to urge this objection. A lady once not only declined subscribing to the society on this plea; but said also, it was all owing to the “miserable mothers that the servants of the present day were so bad; and she would not have anything to do with such a set.”

Those who can dismiss their children, at pleasure, to the nursery or the school-room, are apt to forget the sufferings of others differently situated, whose lives are worn down by one constant and unmitigated pressure. I have thought that one principal reason why the poor mother often fails so much in her duties is, that there are no _pauses_ in her work. The physical suffering and the weariness of spirit induced by this constant toil have much to do with that fretfulness of temper which often makes the homes of poor children wretched indeed. A cord strained too tightly, and too long, will snap at a touch that would otherwise have produced the sweetest music. The words of sympathy which meet the ear at these meetings refresh the wounded spirit. The thought is suggested, that, painful and irksome as the work may often be, it is of God’s appointment; and that to do it for Him, and with a view to His glory, at once ennobles and sanctifies it.

A poor woman, whose heart had been renewed by Divine grace, once said to me, “I used to think I was the poorest, miserablest thing in the world, always slaving about after children; but now God has shewed me my work so different, that I wouldn’t change with the parson.”

The following letter, which I received from one of our poor mothers, will prove the truth of these observations better than anything I can add:—

“POTTERIES, _January_ 7, 1856.

“DEAR CHRISTIAN FRIEND,—

“It was very much my wish to have spoken a few words on Thursday evening, but was unable to do so; therefore, to pacify my conscience, I write to you, stating a few of the advantages I have received since I became a member of your society.

“1st. That of sympathy. If I have been in trouble and difficulty, you have ever lent a willing ear to my tale of sorrow, and led me to cast my care on Him who has promised to care for me.

“2d. That of training my children in the best way. Being obliged to work very hard for them, I have found little time to spare for teaching them; but being reminded by you so often that a mother’s voice, a mother’s look, a mother’s actions, are all noticed by children, I must say it has often influenced me to bear with patience much that I should not have done, and offer a silent prayer for their welfare; and been more happy myself in thus acting.

“3d. We enjoy rest. Often with hurried step we hasten there, and the first sound that salutes our ear is the calm voice of prayer, which seems at once to hush the mind to peace, and carry our sorrows to a throne of grace, where we find relief and comfort.

“Again, there are the texts of Scripture, which often prove a word in season. Sometimes we have been very tired, by reason of the way; difficulties have beset our path, and every hour of the day has been full of care; and perhaps we hear those kind words—‘Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.’ ‘Cast thy burden on the Lord, and he will sustain thee.’ ‘Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will deliver thee.’ We thus leave the place of meeting relieved from much that would distress us. I have thus written a few of the advantages derived from attending the Mothers’ Meeting.

“Praying that a blessing may rest on you; and hoping you will never grow weary in this work of faith and labour of love,

“Believe me to remain, Yours most respectfully, —”

In drawing this narrative of facts to a close, I would make one or two concluding remarks:—

Dr. Chalmers used to say that most of us think too much of our abilities, and too little of our influence. The force of example is always great, even though the exemplar be a fool. A man of the narrowest intellect will accomplish more by personal conduct than the large-brained man will effect by mere verbal precept. It is true not only that

“A peasant may believe as much as a great clerk,”

but that he may _do_ as much. Not only to hope and to faith are the “not many wise” called, but to charity also. We have seen in the preceding pages that our Great Master has made use of the humblest servants to achieve that which the professional philanthropist, with all his busy schemes, had not been able to compass. Therefore to the wise, who may chance to look into this volume, I would say, “Be not over-confident of success in undertaking the work of which I have spoken. To charity, the heart is a far more necessary and vital organ than the brain. What you do will have twenty-fold the force of what you say. And in order to do rightly, you must be content to learn of those whom you could teach everything but this one thing.” Those who are conscious of much intellectual weakness I would encourage by the narratives of what has been wrought by instruments of an even less keen temper than they.

But I would not be understood to slight the literature of philanthropy. Facts and figures, statistics compiled with much toil and difficulty, are the foundation stones of all legislative social reforms. They are indispensable in all cases where we wish the government of a country to interpose.

Next, I would observe that we should “patiently wait” for results. There is a grand Eastern proverb which says, “Hurry is of the devil, but slow advancing comes from God.” Hurry is not progress; sure progress is generally slow. It may not be given to us, who sow the seed, to gather in the harvest. But if our faith is strong, we shall believe that hereafter it will be our great reward to join the glad song of the heavenly reapers, as they lay the bounteous sheaves at the feet of the Lord of the harvest.

Lastly, there is one thing that is in the power of all of us. However difficult it is to _do_ our Father’s will on earth as it is done in heaven, we can at least _pray_ that His kingdom will speedily come; each may pray for those who are in “trouble, sorrow, need, sickness, or any other adversity.”

“More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.”

APPENDIX.

RULES FOR THE REGULATION OF THE MOTHERS’ SOCIETY.

1. THAT this meeting shall assemble one evening in the week, at seven o’clock or half-past seven, according to the season of the year, and close as nearly as possible at nine o’clock.

2. That at every meeting a passage of Scripture shall be read, and followed by prayer. The work shall then be commenced, and deposits received, both for clothing and savings’ bank. The lady who presides shall then read, or relate something suitable to the object of the meeting, and if desirable and time permit, conversation shall ensue.

3. Although remarks to the purpose will be highly valued from any member of this Society, it will be necessary, to save confusion, that all such remarks should be addressed to the President of the meeting, and that not more than one shall speak at a time.

4. That we all endeavour to cultivate a spirit of kindness and sympathy with one another, in our common difficulties; and when cases of peculiar sorrow and distress arise, they should be mentioned at the commencement of the meeting, in order to be made the subject of special and earnest prayer.

5. That at these meetings no mention shall be made of our neighbours’ faults and failings, but that we all, faithfully and earnestly, seek to obtain the greatest possible amount of assistance to aid us in our very important and often difficult duties.

6. That the Secretary will make a point of being at home an hour before the commencement of each meeting, to see any member of this Society who would like to speak with her privately.

7. That the articles of clothing provided, and sold at a reduced price, shall be obtained only by those who have regularly enrolled themselves as members of this Society.

8. That no article of clothing shall be taken away until finished, and paid for, unless by permission of the lady who presides.

9. That each member provide herself with thimble, needles, and cotton.

10. That the work be continued until the time arrives for the concluding prayer by the Clergyman or the City Missionary.

CHEAP COOKERY. RECEIPT. CHEAP SOUP AND VERY NOURISHING.

Two ounces of dripping 1d. Half a pound of solid meat, at 4d. per lb. (cut into dice 2d. one inch square) Quarter of a pound of onions, sliced thin; quarter of a 1d. pound of turnip, cut into small dice; two ounces of leeks (green tops will do), and three ounces of celery, chopped small Half a pound of rice, or pearl barley 1d. Three ounces of salt, and a quarter of an ounce of brown ½d. sugar Fuel to make it ½d. Six quarts of water. — 6d.

HOW TO MAKE IT.

Take an iron saucepan (a tin one will not do); put into it, over the fire, your meat cut small, with two ounces of dripping, and a quarter of an ounce of brown sugar, shred in your onions, and stir with a wooden or iron spoon till fried lightly brown; have ready washed and sliced your turnips, celery, and leeks, add them to the rest over the fire, and stir about for ten minutes. Now add one quart of cold water, and the half-pound of barley or rice, and mix all well together. Then add five quarts of hot water, made ready in the kettle, season with your salt, stir occasionally till boiling, and then let simmer on the hob for three hours; at the end of which time the rice or barley will be tender.

This soup will keep two or three days if poured into a flat pan, but it is best made every other day. You must stir till nearly cold, when you take it off the fire, which will prevent its fermenting. A little bread or biscuit eaten with it makes a supporting meal, much better than a cup of tea, and would go far to prevent the craving for gin.

Great care should be taken that the saucepan be perfectly clean, the dripping and meat sweet, and the vegetables fresh.

* * * * *

THE END.

* * * * *

* * * * *

BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.

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FOOTNOTES.

{8} See “The Book and its Mission,” vol. iii., p. 254.

{110} This letter is given in the Chapter “Letters.”