| | | | Any tolerably tender-hearted man who feels himself | in danger of becoming too merry over his plum-pudding | at this festive season, may tone his spirits | down with great rapidity by glancing over the string | of appeals from charitable institutions with which, | either in the form of letters or advertisements, three or | four columns of the Times | are filled. Such a moan of misery, so deep, so varied | in its inflections, and so well sustained, is enough to | spoil the best mince-pie that was ever baked. While | one is reading letter after letter of sickening details, | one is inclined to wonder how people can contrive to | enjoy themselves at all with this mass of utter | wretchedness painted so visibly before their eyes. | Surely the philanthropist, with his pungent anecdotes | and odious statistics, must haunt their memories in the | middle of all their gaiety, and constantly suggest | disagreeable little calculations precisely at the wrong | moment. One would have thought abstractedly that it | might be difficult to drink, in the course of a dinner, | the weekly earnings of a south-country labourer | without thinking of the labourers who are starving | within a stone's throw. As a matter of fact, however, | such thoughts do not often intrude when people are | merry-making; and it is very fortunate they do not. If | people could keep constantly pictured to their minds | the realities by which they are surrounded, innocent | gaiety would certainly be impossible; but it does not | follow that the change would do very much good. A | few might give themselves over to a gloomy and | dyspeptic philanthropy; but the majority would | become brutally indifferent. | Familiarity with horrible facts very soon destroys | their power of moving sympathy or compassion. The | dead set, therefore, which at this season of the year | the Times and other | newspapers make upon public benevolence, though | very well intentioned, may have very formidable | consequences. As a provisional remedy for the | distress of London it is very well; but as a permanent | resource it will very soon be exhausted. People will | not endure, year after year, to gaze upon this spectre | at their feasts. They will simply get rid of it by | turning away from it. For some years they will be | deeply moved by all they read, and give largely. But | after a time the thing will have lost its novelty; and | readers will be as callous to the sufferings of the | houseless poor as surgeons are to an operation, or the | inhabitants of a plague-stricken city are to death. And | then the last avenue of succour will be closed, and the | London poor will be in worse case than they were | before. Compassion is a note which to much | thumping will easily put out of tune. It is very useful | in helping to tide over a crisis, to relieve sudden | distress which has arisen from exceptional and | unforeseen causes; but it will never be adequate to | satisfy a permanent or a periodical want. For such | sudden calamities as that which has overtaken the | Coventry weavers, and which no prudence could have | averted, it will never be appealed to in vain; but no | preaching will convert it, among Anglo-Saxons at | least, into a perpetual endowment for one class of the | community. The future, therefore, which is being | prepared for the London poor by the mode in which | they are at present dealt with is a very gloomy one. | Not only do they now live from hand to mouth, but, | they are encouraged by those to whom they look up | as the benefactors to accept this as their permanent | condition. The lesson that is taught them is to dig | when they can, and to beg when they cannot. No | attempt is made to discover, and, if it may be, to dry | up, the sources of their distress. It is assumed as a | sort of Providential arrangement that misery is always | to be asking, and bounty is always to be giving. | During the last few weeks we have seen countless | plans for extending relief in every direction and to | every kind of ill ~~ for increasing it, for organizing it, | for finding out fit subjects for it. But we have not | seen one single scheme for making it less necessary in | future years. The idea seems to be that year after year | the piteous letters in the Times, | and the genial articles thereupon, and the long | list of subscriptions, are to be as regular a | phenomenon as the winter solstice. Assuming the | supply to last, is this any better than the dole of the | monastery, or the parish allowance of the old poor | law, or any other of the pauperizing systems in which | charitable sympathy has from time to time run to seed? | Undoubtedly it is right that the alms of the rich should | help the poor out of casual distress; but the moment | that the poor can count upon that help as periodical | and systematic, the alms cause more misery than they | relieve. Alms are always an evil, though often an | inevitable one, for they discourage the thrift which is | the poor man's only chance either of morality or | comfort. The movement in favour of the Field-lane | Refuges two years ago brought the tramps to London | from every part of the country. It is difficult to | imagine a more crucial instance of the slenderness of | the relief that will tempt men to indolence, if it be | given on system and as of right; for the Field-lane | Refuges offer nothing but a bed and a cup of coffee. | But even that furnished a base upon which a beggar | could conduct his operations. Unless, therefore, | benevolent people will turn their zeal more into the | | direction of rooting out the causes of distress, they | will find themselves on the horns of this dilemma ~~ | either the relief which now flows so freely will dry up, | or, if it continues to flow, it will pauperize its objects. | There are a good many nostrums for ameliorating the | condition of the poor; but most of them are very slow | in their operation. The cure that is to be expected | from such remedies as education or sanitary reform | will, no doubt, come some day, but it is a very long | way off. But there is one way of relieving the misery | of London which has been tried and is very easy of | application; and that is the measure which, a quarter | of a century ago, reduced the far more terrible misery | of the rural districts of all England. Cannot the | Poor-law be applied more rigorously? We do not mean | that the rigour is to be increased as against the | applicants for relief, but as against the metropolitan | guardians. There is a fine phrase, which patriotic | declaimers are fond of using, that in England every | poor man has a right to live. The metropolitan | vestries know better than that. Spite of the theoretical | right to live, deaths from want are only too common. | In the country the Poor-law is a tolerably efficient | instrument of relief; in London, considered in | comparison with the mass it has to deal with, it is | almost a dead letter. In the country, the boards of | guardians are generally composed of different classes, | who check each other's selfishness. In London the | whole management is in the hands of a class who | make their fortunes by scraping together petty profits | and petty earnings, and who therefore, by the habit of | their daily life, naturally incline to penuriousness in | all their transactions. As long as they can throw their | own burden on the shoulders of the charitable public, | they will do it. The police-courts are constantly | occupied with complaints that the workhouses have | shut their doors on starving men and women, who | have been picked up in the streets by the police. The | magistrates send back stinging messages, in the hope | of goading the workhouse authorities into doing their | duty. But it requires something stronger than stinging | messages to bring such a phenomenon to pass. The | Boards of Guardians or Directors know that hard | words bread no bones: and that the more public the | cases of misery are made, the better for the ratepayers. | They have found a rate in aid of a novel kind, which | requires no authorization from their old enemies at | Whitehall, but which is to be obtained by a process | much more congenial to their feelings. It is a great | discovery to have found out that by simply shutting | out the poor into the street, they can induce charitable | people at the West End to take the cost of poor relief | upon themselves. The only thing they require is | publicity. Just as the begging mother in the streets | makes her children squall to attract the compassion of | the passers-by, so the parochial authorities delight | when the poor, whom their neglect is starving, get | their tale into the Times. | They know then that their rate in aid will be levied | quickly, effectively, and without a murmur. The | public rushes forward with refuges, visiting | associations, soup-kitchens, and other devices of | various kinds; money flows in abundantly through a | hundred channels; and the shopkeepers, who are the | tender-hearted administrators of the poor-laws, | complacently observe that charity, in addition to its | other merits, has the virtue, which St. Paul omitted to | notice, of lowering the poor-rates. | There is much to be said for and against the | interference of the State in the relief of the poor. But | there can be no question that, if it does undertake to | do it, it ought to do it with effect. The startling | anecdotes of misery with which philanthropists | harrow our feelings show that in London the Poor-law | has broken down, and will not work. It has been | committed to the charge of those who have no wish | that it should work, and who infinitely prefer that the | Times and Lord Raynham | should do the work in its stead. A twofold evil is the | result. The compassion of the richer classes is | prematurely overtaxed and worn out, so that they are | becoming callous to the exceptional calamities which | it is really their function to alleviate; and the London | poor are being relieved indiscriminately, without the | workhouse test, and consequently with all the | demoralizing consequences to remedy which the New | Poor-law was passed. These abuses can only be | arrested by giving to the Poor-law in London a reality | which at present, in the hands of its local managers, it | does not possess. The entire abstinence of the more | educated and more independent section of the | inhabitants from all part in local affairs makes local | self-government a very doubtful blessing in the | metropolis, but in nothing are its evils so glaring as in | the harsh and barbarous treatment it brings upon the | poor.