Various
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Vol. 60, No. 373, November 1846
But we must avoid generalities. We still retain our original ground, viz. the rural Union, with its large area and its thinly scattered population. The reader must accompany us to the rural Union, where the spirit of the prohibitory order exercises its most baneful influence.
We saw the relieving-officer performing his round of duties. The poor were assembled at the cottage door. Two classes of applicants were then given. We must now, however, look deeper into human nature. The destitute consist of the virtuous and the vicious, the vulgar and the refined. There stands an able-bodied man with his able-bodied wife, and his large healthy family. His weekly wages amount to nine shillings per week. If he loses a week's work he is destitute. He is now making an application to the relieving-officer. But it is useless. He must walk to the Union, and become an inmate, where his dinner awaits him. The man who now approaches the officer is like the last, able-bodied and out of work; but, unlike him, he has an idle, unthrifty, drunken wife. He is always trembling on the confines of destitution; and the instant he is without work he is on the brink of starvation. His spirit is broken. His children are dirty and ragged, and appear emaciated without disease. He, too, must enter the Union. The next is a hard-featured man; —
"A savage wildness round him hung
As of a dweller out of doors;
In his whole figure, and his mien,
A savage character was seen
Of mountains and of dreary moors."
He does not seem to care whether relief is granted or not; and we may hear him say, "I don't want relief for myself, I can get my living somehow or other – but my wife and child musn't starve. I shan't go to the Union – I shall be off – and catch me who can." – In the cottage, a woman is seated with her children, whose husband has done that which the other has threatened to do. She may be industrious or idle, but she cannot support herself, thus suddenly thrown upon her own resources. Let us hope that she is allowed the benefit of the amended order. – There is the man whose children are approaching the state of womanhood or manhood. He has work to do, and he does it. He could manage to eke out a subsistence for himself – for his habits are simple and frugal; but his children are now a sore trial to him. His daughter has returned to his cottage with a child of shame. She has erred, but she cannot be turned from his door. She has tried to make the father contribute to the support of the child, but without success. Poor ignorant creature, instead of taking a competent witness with her, when she asked the man to assist her, she was too anxious to hide her shame. Instead of putting questions to him, in order "to get up" the corroborative evidence, she was too apt to spoil all by passionate upbraidings. And then, when she appeared before their worships the justices, she was too much abashed or excited, to enable her to develope those latent powers of examination and cross-examination which the law supposes her to possess. Those who have witnessed those humiliating proceedings in our petty courts of justice, and seen the magistrate at one moment kindly acting as counsel for the girl, then falling back to his position as judge, and observed the evident helplessness of the girl, must have left the court with the impression that the whole affair is a disgusting farce. She departs without redress. The "corroborative evidence" is declared insufficient. She goes to her father's cottage. His heart compels him to give her shelter, and a place at his scanty board. But the smallest assistance cannot be rendered with impunity. And there he stands an applicant. He is told, "you must come into the house." "But it is my daughter." "Then she must enter the Union." And, if she does, there she must remain until her child dies, or her hair grows grey. – On the other side, and away from the rest, stands a coarse-featured man, who has often been an inmate of the county jail. He is the smuggler on the coast, the footpad on the common, the poacher in the forest, the housebreaker, the horse-stealer, the sheep-slayer, or the incendiary. He may be any of these. He demands his rights, and threatens vengeance if refused. – We turn from this group, and walk slowly to the Union-house, now visible in the distance; and, in walking, the time may be well employed in reflection. The thought which occurs with the greatest vividness is this – for the reception of such a group, what must the arrangements be? There is the old man, honest but poor, who seeks there an asylum. There is the man old in sin and iniquity, as well as years. There is the able-bodied man and woman with their family. There is the able-bodied man with his drunken, unthrifty wife, and his emaciated children. There is the young girl, whom the season has thrown out of her ordinary field employment. There is the woman with her illegitimate child, either heart-broken, or glorying in her shame. There is the girl, young in years but old in profligacy, suffering for her sins. There is the matron in her green old age, the result of a life of industry and prudence. And there is the ruffian, and the thief, and the profligate vagrant, male and female. Now what arrangements can be made for this assemblage – the bad anxious to obtain temporary quarters, the good anxious to retain their homes?
Surely they are not classed according to rules in which age, and sex, and state of health are the only principles? The widow with the prostitute, the aged cottar with the aged vagrant. If this were all, the moral consequences would not be so fearful. Does the young girl, who is now innocent, associate daily with her who has wandered over half the neighbouring counties, sinking lower and lower each journey? If so, poison will be instilled, which produces certain moral death. Refer to any list, now seven years old, of the inmates of a workhouse, who were then aged from twelve to eighteen years, and then inquire what has become of them. Or inquire of those who have the administration in metropolitan parishes, or in manufacturing and sea-port towns, how many of those unfortunates, scarcely yet arrived at the state of womanhood, and suffering from loathsome diseases, were brought up, or were sometime inmates of one of these Unions. Then there are the children of all these; – the children of the farm-labourer associating with those of the vagrant, who has quartered himself in the Union during the rains.
The evils which this system occasions are not, unfortunately, either to be seen or understood by the casual observer. Even our observer may suppose that all is well, after he has inspected the place. He sees every thing clean and in order. There are no rags, no unshorn beards, no unclean flesh. The ordinary concomitants of virtue are here present – by compulsion. The rags, the filthiness of place and person, are absent – by order. This is forgotten; and, allowing the outward and visible to govern his judgment rather than the inward and spiritual, he leaves the place exclaiming, "Well! this is not so bad after all!" The outside is indeed white, but it is the whiteness of the sepulchre.
If this group is to be received into one building, there must be something peculiar in its arrangements. All these persons are suffering, more or less, from the want of food, or lodging, or clothing, or medical aid. They are now offered the whole of these blessings, and yet they do not feel blessed thereby. He has now that livelihood freely offered to him which had cost him many a sigh to procure, and he has often sighed in vain. What then can or must be the nature of the arrangements? It must be remembered that this Union is presumed to be a test of poverty, and therefore the condition of its inmates must be inferior to that of the independent labourer.
To effect this, how must the authorities proceed? In the first place, there are arrangements which they cannot make. They cannot altogether dispense with the counsels of the medical man, while the matter is under discussion. And an inspector of prisons should be admitted, certainly, as far as the ante-room. Then the locality of the Union-house must not be unhealthy. The internal parts of the building must not be exposed to the inclemency of the seasons.
The rooms cannot be badly warmed or ventilated. They must not be allowed to become filthy. The inmates must not sleep on a damp floor, with loose straw for a bed, or an old carpet for a coverlid. Their clothes must not be permitted to fall from them in tatters. They must not remain twenty-four hours without food. And they cannot experience that gnawing anxiety – that sickness of heart which those thousands suffer who rise in the morning without knowing where they can obtain a meal, or lay down their head at night. These "ills," which constitute so large a portion of the poor man's lot, the inmate of this Union cannot be made to suffer. Nor can they be detained like prisoners. He must not be confined for a longer period, after an application to leave has been made, than will allow for forms and casualties. So in three hours he is a free man again. What is to be done? Might not his food be touched? Might he not be allowed food which, although possessing nutritious qualities, should not be palatable? At this point, the prison inspector should be consulted. This experiment upon the dietaries has been tried, and with what success let public opinion trumpet-tongued proclaim. What must then be done? First, the family may, nay, must be divided and distributed over the building. The husband is sent to the "Man's Hall," the wife to the "Woman's Ward," and the male and female children each to their's. This arrangement is inevitable, but is fraught with dangers. The man who has lived for months estranged from his wife and children – for seeing them at certain times cannot be considered the same thing as living with them – may learn to believe that their presence is not necessary to his existence. And then it should not be forgotten, that the pain here introduced is the pain arising from the infliction of a moral wound. An attempt has been made to disturb a set of virtuous emotions in their healthy exercise. By this separation they are deprived of their necessary aliment; and, if they are not strong, will soon sicken and die. Now, those moral feelings which preside over the social hearth are those which exercise the greatest influence over the heart of the poor man, and bind, and strengthen, and afford opportunities for the development of the rest. They are in general the last that leave him. And when they are gone, he is bankrupt indeed. It is a pain, too, which only the virtuous feel. The lawless, the debauched, and the drunken pass unscathed. Is there not danger?
In the second place, the inmates of the Union must work. And here also there are limits which a Board cannot pass. Labour cannot be enforced from a diseased man. The prudent master of a Union will not require a task to be performed which he cannot enforce. The question is, what work can the inmates be set to do? Not to lace-making or stocking-weaving, for that is the staple of the neighbourhood. To give them this work would diminish the demand for labour out of doors. What labour then must it be? Here is the rock upon which the vessel is now driving. It must certainly be real work. Must it, then, be disagreeable work? It must. But there is no work so disagreeable that willing labourers cannot be found to do it, and that at a rate of wages reduced by competition. Then, again, the most disagreeable kind of labour cannot be done in a Union-house. And experience proves, that the number of such employments is extremely limited.
There are, however, certain kinds of labour that require no exertion of skill – no variety of operation – and consisting of the mechanical and monotonous operation of picking, which, if performed in the same room during a certain number of hours of each day, and from day to day, and from week to week, will become so sickening and wearying, that life with all its miseries, doubts, and anxieties, and impending starvation, will be welcomed in exchange.
This labour women may perform. Now, in what way can the men be tasked? There are certain kinds of mere labour, hard and monotonous, such as grinding – or rather turning a handle all day long – without seeing the progress or result of the toil. He might also be employed in breaking bones. This has been tried, and received a check.
But while the conclave are sitting in "consultation deep" upon this knotty question, let us turn to another conclave, and mark their doings. They know nothing of the poor-law, or paupers. The two authorities are separated, the one from the other, by a gulf, the depth of which official persons alone know. They have to do with crime. They have to punish the offender. And not only to punish the offender who has committed acts which require long imprisonment, but those also who have committed petty offences. Upon this latter subject they are engaged. The prisoner must be set to work. And then arise the old questions, and with the same result. What do they determine?
What has been done? Surely the two bodies have not each issued the same regulations to paupers and prisoners. If this be so, the matter cannot rest. And that it must be so, is obvious from a mere inspection of the means which the workhouse master and the jailer have at their disposal. It is not an oversight or an abuse. The data being given, the consequences are inevitable. Each conclave has separately arrived at nearly the same conclusion. In one case a prison and a prisoner, and a brief period of incarceration is given, with the condition, that his punishment shall not be so severe as that of the criminal deeply dyed in crime; and yet his circumstances shall be less desirable than those of the independent labourer. In the other case, a pauper and a Union-house is given; and if the condition of the problem be, that the pauper's situation shall be less disagreeable than that of the independent labourer, the solution becomes impossible; and, if this latter condition be left out or forgotten, the result is, that the prisoner and the pauper are in the same position. This mode of treating the matter has been preferred to that of comparing dietaries and labour-tables, and to quoting from evidence showing the indifference with which the prison and the workhouse are regarded by the lower class of paupers. Our object has been to show that the strict workhouse system leads necessarily to these evils.
It is argued, on the other side, that pauperism has diminished in those Unions where the "prohibitory order" has been issued; and, in proof thereof, we are referred to reports and tables showing diminished expenditure. A family, with a judicious out-door management, would be able to subsist with the occasional assistance of two, three, or four shillings' worth of food weekly. The cost of the family in the house would be about 18s. weekly; and yet the expenditure in the rural Union, where the "prohibitory order" is in force, has been reduced. No especial reference can now be made to the amount of unrelieved suffering which this fact discloses. Those who decline the order cannot now be followed to their homes; nor can another incident of this system be dwelt upon – its tendency to reduce the standard of wages. The employer is likely to get labour cheap, when he has a number of unemployed labourers to choose from, who have just preferred to "live on" in a half-starved condition, rather than submit to a system of prison discipline. To return to the allegation, that pauperism has been diminished in those Unions where the order is in operation. The reply is – that the statistics do not touch the question. They ought to be thrown aside as useless, until the condition of those who have refused to enter the Union walls has been ascertained. Have their numbers become thinned by the ravages of the fever, which their "houseless heads and unfed sides" have unfitted them to resist? Have they been unable to pay their pittance of rent; and is the cottage, which was once theirs, now falling to decay? Have estates thus been thinned without the formality and notoriety of a warrant? Have the able-bodied left the Union, and become wanderers, seeking for an understocked labour-market; and, finding it not, are they becoming, through common lodging-house associations, half labourers, half vagrants – labouring to-day, begging to-morrow, and stealing the next? Is the inclination to wander growing into a passion? Are habits of strolling being formed? Is he gradually deteriorating to the half-savage state? Is this so? A great national question is involved. The French government know, by experience, the importance of a true knowledge of "Les Classes Dangereuses."
Now, if any of these applicants have become wanderers, or have migrated to distant towns where charities abound, or have been cut off by sickness, or have remained in a state of semi-starvation, the statistics would remain the same. Besides, these statistics embrace two periods; the present time, when an extremely rigid system of out-door relief is in action; and a past time, when the out-door management was loose, irregular, and rotten; and for the diminution of expenditure, arising from a sound system of out-door relief, no allowance has been made, the whole benefit of the economy being referred to the workhouse test.
It is probable much of the evil has been stayed, from the circumstance that the "system" has been carried into effect by human agency. A certificate of illness from the medical officer would exempt the individual from the operation of the rule. Now, the seeds of disease are oftentimes deeply hidden in the bodily frame; and the alleged throbbing or shooting pain, although the symptoms may not be seen, may have an existence, and be certified accordingly.
Then the relieving-officer, after relieving the case as one of sudden and urgent necessity to-day, may see the applicant again upon his next visit; and knowing that a case is urgent after forty-eight hours' fasting, and may be considered sudden, if two days' work only was obtained when four days was expected, he may be relieved on the same plea again, and again, and again. In point of fact, the relief is an allowance.
If this be the practice, a bad mode of out-door relief has grown into use, the worst peculiarities of the old method being involved in it. It is irregular, partial, and dependent on personal partialities and prejudices; and, if persisted in, would revive old times, when the overseer gave away, in the first place, to the bold, the insidious, and the designing, and modest merit was left to pick up the crumbs.
The result of an inquiry into the two other classes into which England is parochially divided would probably be, that many evils have been removed or lessened, that others have remained untouched, that much good has been secured, and that new abuses have crept in.
Take the Union of small parishes. An improvement has certainly been effected by the Union of these. A city or town, because it happened to be composed of a large number of small parishes, having no perceptible boundaries, but, in virtue of ancient usage or statute-law, was governed by so many independent petty powers. It does not require much study to ascertain what abuses would be likely to arise, or from what quarter they would probably come. It is likely that the round of petty magnates would be a small and cozy party; that a man, the moment he became initiated, would begin to ascend the ladder of fortune. Jobbery would flourish. Such things are not peculiar to England. In Spain and France they have been matter of observation. Read the following extract from Fabrice's account of the masters he served: – "Le Seigneur Manuel Ordonnez, mon maître, est un homme d'une piété profonde. On dit que, dès sa jeunesse, n'ayant en vue que le bien des pauvres, il s'y est attaché avec un zèle infatigable. Aussi ses soins ne sont-ils pas demeurés sans récompense: tout lui a prospéré. Quelle benediction! En faisant les affaires des pauvres, il s'est enriché."
These abuses belong to the past, but their existence should not be forgotten. Pauperism would flourish. For a system of management, proverbially jealous of having its affairs exposed to the gaze of the ignorant vulgar, could not look with too curious an eye into the circumstances of those who applied for relief. The beadle who flourished in those days did not, as some affirm, derive his authority from his cocked hat or his gilded coat, but from the real power he exercised.
The overseers were elected with their will, or against it. They often served in a perpetual circle. The duty of relieving the poor was too often left to subordinate irresponsible officers, whose duties were neither expressed nor recognised. Their most arduous task was to keep their superior out of hot water. But what kind of cases were relieved, and under what circumstances, and what kind of cases were refused, and under what circumstances, is now mere matter – matter of tradition, and will become a mystery in the course of a few years. Many poor were relieved; but the bold, the idle, and the squalid had the best chance. Honest, humble poverty approached the overseer's door with fear and trembling, and the slightest rebuff or harsh word, which an importune application might occasion, would be sufficient to make her leave the door unrelieved. While the destitute confirmed pauper would annoy, insult, and extract relief, by the scandal of so much squalid destitution lying and crouching about the overseer's door.
Now what change has taken place? These parishes have been formed into Unions. The churchwardens and overseers of each parish form part of a Board of management. This Board of management is completed by the addition of a class hitherto unknown in parish matters, viz. the guardians who are elected from the parishioners, on grounds in which wealth, station, and public importance are elements. All repairs and alterations, and the supply of provisions, are subject to contract, and open to competition. The parish plumber can no longer make his fortune by the repair of the parish pump. All disbursements are recorded, and subjected to rigid inspection, and all receipts are duly accounted for.
But the poor, how do they fare? It is necessary to state, with reference to this point, that the peculiar politico-economic theories which have had such frequent expression in the letters, reports, and orders of the Poor-Law Commissioners, have also had their influence upon all persons connected with the administration of relief. The idea was, that a severe "house test" would nearly destroy pauperism. This dream, however, is passing away, and a more humane set of opinions are being engendered.
The circumstances of a city Union are widely different from those of the rural Union; and, therefore, many suggestions and strictures which have been made against the mode of administering relief in the latter are inapplicable to the former. In the rural Union, the chief difficulty is, that a long distance must be travelled before the application to the relieving-officer can be made, and relief obtained. And it becomes a matter of importance to know to what extent the local officers are able to perform their duty. In the Union of small parishes, these difficulties cannot exist, for the whole diameter may be traversed in half-an-hour. Then a relief office is built. It is situated in a poor neighbourhood. It is open a certain number of hours in each day; an officer is in attendance; and the bread and meat, and other kind of food, are in the building. These facts are known to the poor, to the magistrates, and to the police. The individual power of the overseer in these little parishes falls daily into disuetude. The poor man can obtain relief most readily at the office. He need not wait for the leisure moment of an overseer – deeply engaged in his private affairs. The poor know this, and do not apply to him. Occasionally an application is made to an overseer, and if he wish the case to be relieved, his most convenient practical course, is to submit the case to the relieving-officer, by a note, and then to put a question to the chairman at the next board-day.
It will be found that the evil to be apprehended is, that relief in certain cases may be too easily obtained, and a class of paupers improperly encouraged. This, however, does not necessarily proceed from the Union, but from certain other wise notions respecting mendicancy and vagrancy.
A certain part of every workhouse is separated from the rest of the building, and appropriated to wayfarers. Formerly, at the close of day, a number of persons usually applied to the officers for lodging for the night. They were questioned as to their mode of livelihood, their object in travelling, the distance they had travelled, and the route; and these answers were tested by any means at hand. If the result was satisfactory, they were admitted, and allowed to pursue their way at an early hour in the morning, with an allowance of food. If the result was doubtful, or they were convicted of deceit, their application was either deferred, refused, or they were required to do work for the relief given. Then questions of age, sex, and degrees of health were considered. Now, relief precedes inquiry; and as these persons are relieved but once, no inquiry is made, and is in fact impossible. Now, if a man appears before an officer apparently destitute, he must be relieved forthwith. If the man is not relieved, the relieving-officer's situation and character are in jeopardy. And so the workhouse at night has become open house to all comers. The wards are filled with a strange group of beings. The very scum, not of the poor, but the vicious, are to be found in these wards. The man who attends these dens does his duty in the midst of revilings and cursings, and at the risk of his life. The poor man who is really "tramping" in search of work, and has not been able to get the threepence for his night's lodging, has not the benefit of this change. Fevers and other contagious diseases are likely to be generated and spread. Some inquiry has been made into this subject, but is by no means exhausted. Further inquiry should be made, and the connexion between vagrancy and a strict workhouse system should not be overlooked.
The third class into which the parishes and Unions of England have been divided in this article, viz. that of populous single parishes, differs from that which comprises Unions of small parishes in but few particulars. These parishes are generally very populous, and cover a small area. The duty of administering relief has always been heavy and onerous. The mode of management has generally been determined by local acts. A board of management has always existed. In some cases the overseers have been elected and paid, because much experience, and the devotion of much time, is necessary for the due performance of the duties. In other instances, unpaid overseers hold the responsibility, and are assisted by subordinate officers. Many of these parishes have defied the power of the Commissioners, and retained their independent authority. The Boards are composed of men of standing and business habits. They are generally well acquainted with the poor, and know much better how the relief fund should be expended, than those who see them only through the imperfect media of reports and statistics. Many novelties in management, enforced on Unions by the Commissioners, have been voluntarily adopted, and many time-honoured fictions have been exploded. In general, the proceedings of the Commissioners have not been to them satisfactory. The new project of district asylums for the reception of wayfarers may be given as an example.
These parishes, however, should not escape the inquiry; and a useful direction might be given to it, if the subject of classifications in workhouses were to be considered in connexion with these populous places. Not that special evils exist, but because the subject of classification on moral grounds might be more conveniently considered, and more severely tested.
We think that an improved classification in workhouses, in which moral consideration might be allowed to form an element, might be attempted. Very decided opinions have been expressed to the contrary. It is generally believed, and has been declared by high authorities, that the poor fund is a statutable fund, raised by compulsion, for the relief of destitution; and, therefore, the statutable purpose of the fund has reference only to the fact of destitution, and not to moral qualities. That this may be true in cases of sudden necessity is not denied; but with respect to those cases where relief is likely to be permanent – as old age – or in those cases in which a period must elapse before the relief is withdrawn, the moral character of the individual must, and does, form a leading circumstance in the treatment. It is not said that the fact of giving or refusing relief should depend on moral considerations, but that the mode or manner should be determined by them. Take a case. A widow with a family, in the first month of her widowhood, applies for relief. During the first three months of her husband's illness, his savings were adequate to his necessities. And during the last three months, the weekly voluntary gathering of his brother workmen, or the allowance from his club, has sufficed; and he died without destitution actually coming to his door. His remains have been conveyed to the grave; and, with the balance of money from the friendly society, or trades' club, she has been supported to the end of the first month of her widowhood.
The other case is also a widow. But, as a wife, she was unthrifty and drunken, and she has not changed, for her sobriety was more than suspected on the day of the funeral. Here, there are no savings, no donations from friends, no allowance from a club. Her husband lived and died a pauper, was buried as a pauper, and his widow has determined to make the most of her destitution, and extract the utmost farthing from the reluctant guardians. Each of these cases must be relieved. As regards the fact of destitution, the latter case is the worst; but the frugal widow suffers the greatest deprivation. To the common observer, the state of the bad is one of pure misery, and the state of the other simply quiet, frugal, lowliness of condition. The fact, however, really is, that the good widow suffers the most keenly; and, excepting certain little matters of decency and cleanliness, is really the most destitute. The cry, "What will become of my children?" implies in itself a large amount of suffering. The thought scarcely occurs to the mind of the other. The treatment of these cases must be, and is different; and the difference is founded on moral grounds. In one case, if the relief were in money, it would be instantly transmitted into gin. Relief in kind must be resorted to, and be given in small quantities, and frequently; and even then she must be watched, or the bread would never reach the mouths of her children. In the other case, a liberal allowance in money, given in the first month of her widowhood, would be expended carefully, and if given promptly, before her "little home" has been broken up, she may be able in a few months to insure a livelihood, and become independent of the parish. These cases represent extremes. There is every variety of shade between them; and sometimes the case presents so mingled a yarn of laziness, and bodily weakness, ignorance, cunning, and imprudence, that the guardians scarcely know the proper treatment. Boards of guardians have frequently to deal with such cases, and do, without expressing it in words, dispose of them on moral grounds, although those in high places may be too much occupied with statistics and generalities to be aware of the fact.