“Your readers will probably recollect the opposition experienced by Dr. Hampden on his promotion to the bishopric of Hereford. Shortly after the affair was settled, his lordship accepted an invitation to preach on behalf of the schools connected with the ‘ten new churches’ of Bethnal-green. The church selected for the purpose was the one on Friar’s-mount. It was one July Sunday in 1849, and, as I well remember, the morning was very wet; but, supposing the curiosity, or better motives, of the public would induce a large congregation, I went to the church at half-past ten. The free-seats occupying the middle aisle were all filled, and chiefly with persons of the lowest and worst classes, many of whom I personally knew, and was agreeably surprised to find them in such a place.
“I sat in the midst of the group, and at the elbow of a tall attenuated beggar, known by the name of ‘Lath and Plaster,’ of whom it is but justice to say that he repeated the responsive parts of the service very correctly. It is true he could not read; but having ‘larned a few prayers’ in the ‘Downs’ (Tothill-fields prison), ‘he always sed ’em, night and morning, if he wasn’t drunk, and then he sed ’em twice next day, ’cos,’ reasoned he, ‘I likes to rub off as I goes on.’
“In course of time, the bishop made his appearance in the pulpit. His subject was neglected education, and he illustrated it from the history of Eli.
“I thought proper to hang back, and observe the group as they passed out of church. There was Tailor Tom, and Brummagem Dick, and Keate-street Nancy, and Davy the Duke, and Stationer George, and at least two dozen more, most of whom were miserably clad, and several apparently without a shirt. They were not, however, without halfpence; and as I was well known to several of the party, and flattered as being ‘a very knowledgeable man,’ I was invited to the Cat and Bagpipes afterwards, to ‘have share of what was going.’
“I was anxious,” continues my informant, “to learn from my companions their opinion of the right reverend prelate. They thought, to use their own words, ‘he was a jolly old brick.’ But did they think he was sound in opinion about the Trinity, or was he (as alleged) a Unitarian? They did not even understand the meaning of these words. All they did understand was, that ‘a top-sawyer parson at Oxford, called Dr. Pussy,’ had ‘made himself disagreeable,’ and that some of the bishops and nobility had ‘jined him;’ that these had persecuted Dr. Hampden, because he was ‘more cleverer’ than themselves; and that Lord John Russell, who, generally speaking, was ‘a regular muff,’ had ‘acted like a man’ in this instance, and ‘he ought to be commended for it; and,’ added the man who pronounced the above sentiment, ‘it’s just a picture of ourselves.’ To other ears than mine, the closing remark would have appeared impertinent, but I ‘tumbled to’ it immediately. It was a case of oppression; and whether the oppressors belonged to Oxford University or to Scotland-yard militated nothing against the aphorism: ‘it’s just a picture of ourselves!’
“It seems to me that these poor creatures understood the circumstances better than they did the sermon; and my inference is, that whether from the parochial pulpit, or the missionary exhortation, or in the printed form of a tract, those who wish to produce a practical effect must themselves be practical men. I, who have been in the Christian ministry, and am familiar, unhappily, with the sufferings of men of every grade among the outcast, would say: ‘If you wish to do these poor outcasts real good, you must mould your language to their ideas, get hold of their common phrases—those which tell so powerfully when they are speaking to each other—let them have their own fashion of things, and, where it does not interfere with order and decency, use yourselves language which their unpolished minds will appreciate; and then, having gained their entire confidence, and, perhaps, their esteem, you may safely strike home, though it be as with a sledge-hammer, and they will even ‘love you for the smart.’
“The temperance movement next claims attention, and I doubt not that much crime and degradation has been prevented by total abstinence from all intoxicating drinks; but I would rather raise the tone of moral feeling by intelligent and ennobling means than by those spasmodic efforts, which are without deliberation, and often without permanency. The object sought to be obtained, however, is good,—so is the motive,—and I leave to others to judge what means are most likely to secure it.
“I may also allude, as another means of reformation, to the Ragged-schools which are now studding the localities of the poorest neighbourhoods. The object of these schools is, one would hope, to take care of the uncared for, and to give instruction to those who would be otherwise running wild and growing up as a pest to society. A few instances of real reform stand, however, in juxtaposition with many of increased hardihood. I, as a man, seeing those who resort to ragged-schools, cannot understand the propriety of insulting an honest though ragged boy by classing him with a young thief; or the hope of improving the juvenile female character where the sexes are brought in promiscuous contact, and left unrestrained on their way home to say and do everything subversive of the good instruction they have received.” [It is right I should here state, that these are my informant’s own unbiassed sentiments, delivered without communication with myself on the subject. I say thus much, because, my own opinions being known, it might perhaps appear as if I had exerted some influence over the judgment of my correspondent.]
“The most efficient means of moral reform among the street-folk, appear to have been consulted by those who, in Westminster and other places, have opened institutions cheaper, but equally efficient, as the mechanics’ institutes of the metropolis. In these, for one farthing per night, three-halfpence a week, or sixpence a month, lectures, exhibitions, newspapers, &c., are available to the very poor. These, and such as these, I humbly but earnestly would commend to public sympathy and support, believing that, under the auspices of heaven, they may ‘deliver the outcast and poor’ from their own mistaken views and practices, and make them ornamental to that society to which they have long been expensive and dangerous.”
Another laudable attempt to improve the condition of the poorer class is by the erection of model lodging-houses. The plan which induced this measure was good, and the success has been tolerable; but I am inclined to think the management of these houses, as well as their internal regulation, is scarcely what their well-meaning founders designed. The principal of these buildings is in George-street, St. Giles’s; the building is spacious and well ventilated, there is a good library, and the class of lodgers very superior to what might be expected. This latter circumstance makes the house in question scarcely admissible to the catalogue of reformed lodging-houses for the very poor.