Ragged homes and how to mend them

by Mrs. Bayly

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.”