The law ought to give such men redress. ‘Sauce for the goose’ is not yet ‘sauce for the gander.’ A battered wife may claim and get the assistance the law has wisely provided. Husbands of habitually drunken wives ought to have, and it is monstrous that they do not have, equal rights and privileges. The Habitual Inebriates Act of 1898 does not apply to these women; it only applies to women charged four times in one year. But the women charged four times in one year are—at least, eighty per cent. are—homeless ‘unfortunates,’ victims, not of drink, but of sensuality or of mental disease. These a kind Government has provided for, and offers ten and sixpence per week for a period not exceeding three years and not less than one to such philanthropic societies, public bodies and private individuals who will undertake to care for them. County Councils in their turn are also willing to supplement the Government grant by a contribution of six and sixpence per week for such ‘habitual inebriates’ as shall be charged or committed within their jurisdiction.
Here, then, is an extraordinary position. Unspeakably gross women are cared for; idleness, sensuality, or dementia are treated as inebriety; the public are taxed or rated to the extent of seventeen shillings per week for everyone committed to an inebriate reformatory. These, after their one, two, or three years’ detention have passed, will come back to their old haunts, their old vice, and their old shame. They have already begun to do so. But the really inebriate go uncared for, and from thousands of homes comes the despairing cry for help. From good husbands and loving fathers, from neglected children in blighted homes, the sorrowful cry goes up unto Heaven; and the wreckage of such homes is all about us. But to all this the law has nothing to say unless the wretched woman gets charged four times in one year. Surely, if it is right—and it is right—that a down-trodden wife should be protected, it is equally right and just, nay, it is absolutely imperative, that a husband should have some means of obtaining redress—some chance of lightening his heavy burden. Hundreds of husbands bear this kind of life till they can bear it no longer, and they take themselves off, leaving their wives and families to be cared for by the parish, and the law is set in motion to find them, for many are brought back and punished. Many bear with this life till maddened nature can stand it no longer, and a violent assault ensues, followed by prosecution and imprisonment.
The wife may summon the husband. Why may not the husband summon the wife? If a wife commits a certain offence once, though in every other respects she may be a decent woman, the law is outraged and society scandalized, so much so, that the husband is entitled to cast her off. But a lifetime of wifely drunkenness, of horrible dirt, of insensate waste and utter neglect, are at present not worth a moment’s consideration. These are the women who ought to be the inmates of our inebriate reformatories, and numbers of husbands would be only too glad to pay reasonable sums for their detention and treatment. Let the State keep and control its criminal inebriates, and treat them scientifically for whatever may be the matter with them. Private individuals or philanthropic societies will not be able to do much with them or for them; but they might do much for drunken wives if those wives were committed to their care.
We have heard so much of women’s rights that there is a danger of the rights of men being overlooked, so on their behalf I contend that the sober husband of a drunken wife should have the power of summoning her before the magistrate, when, if it is proved that she is persistently drunken, the magistrate shall have the power of committing her for not less than a year to some certified inebriate reformatory; and at the same time an order should be made upon the husband for a weekly contribution towards his wife’s support while she is in the reformatory. Wives know only too well that the law will not interfere with them for home drunkenness. They are perfectly aware that they can snap their fingers at the husband, police, or magistrate, and, knowing this, many of them are quite content to live in filth and misery. Happy would it be for them if they were for a time taken out of that misery; great would be the relief to many decent husbands, while untold numbers of children would be infinitely happier. Sober, industrious people have rights as well as drunkards, and it is high time the State considered those rights—high time, too, that the State considered the wrongs inflicted on itself by such drunkenness, for, though the State at present does not care, it is not let off easily. It has to pay, and the penalty is a heavy one.
CHAPTER V
PARENTS AND CHILDREN
‘Please, sir, I want a summons.’ It was application time, and the speaker who stood in the witness-box was a boy of about twelve, evidently from a comfortable home. He wore a good Eton suit of clothes, and his collar was immaculate. ‘Whom do you want a summons against?’ he was asked. ‘My father, sir.’ The magistrate looked at him and asked: ‘What has your father done to you?’ ‘Please, sir, he has assaulted me.’ ‘That was very wrong of your father. Why did he do so?’ ‘Please, sir, he said that I had been rude to my sister.’ ‘Did he, though? Yes, you can take a summons.’ ‘Please, sir, how much will it be?’ ‘Two shillings, my little man.’ ‘Please, sir, I am under twelve. Can’t I have it half-price?’ ‘Oh no, my boy; we have no half-price summonses.’ ‘But I have only one shilling, sir.’ ‘Then you must go and get another before your summons can be issued.’
The boy went, and those of us who heard his application naturally thought we had seen the last of him. We were wrong, for in a short time he came back with another shilling, and the summons was issued. In due time father and son were before the court, the boy as prosecutor and the father as defendant. The father, a portly, well-dressed man, was boiling with rage, and could scarcely restrain himself whilst the boy gave evidence and told how his father had beaten him. ‘Has your father ever assaulted you before?’ the magistrate asked. ‘No, sir; this is the first time.’ ‘I am sorry for that,’ the magistrate said, ‘because I am going to dismiss the summons—on one condition only, and that is that your father takes you home and gives you a double dose of what he gave you last time.’ And turning to the father: ‘And mind you do it, sir.’ ‘I will cheerfully carry out your worship’s instruction,’ the father said. And there is no doubt he did. So the young hopeful lost his two shillings and got a second thrashing.
That boy interested me: I thought I might learn something if I made an official call. So one evening I called, and was fortunate enough to find the boy and mother at home; the father had not returned from business. I told them who I was, and referred to the summons, and asked whether the father had carried out the magistrate’s wish. ‘Yes,’ said the mother, ‘he did; and he would have given him more if I had not stopped him.’ I found that both father and mother belonged to that numerous class of parents who ‘never allow anyone to beat their children.’ These were the words of the mother, and the father, too, had acted on the same principle, for he had removed this boy from two schools because the teacher had given him physical chastisement, and in one case he had written to the master threatening to take police court proceedings against him.
Of course, the inevitable result followed, and there came a time at home when punishment had to be given. The boy said sullenly to me: ‘He makes row enough when anybody else touches me. I should not have thought about a summons, I did not know anything about summonses, till I heard him threaten to summon the teacher.’ I did not feel so sure about the justice of the magistrate’s decision after hearing that.
Now, these parents are typical of a large class that exists in the middle and lower walks of life. Heaven help the children! for in most cases the parents pile up misery for them. The lives of teachers at our Board and Church schools would not be tolerable were it not for the wisdom and common-sense of our London magistrates. Many are the irate and voluble women that rush into our courts applying for summonses against school-teachers, very few of which are granted. It is not an edifying spectacle to see a worthy magistrate inspecting some young urchin to ascertain whether undue chastisement has been given, but it is not an uncommon sight. ‘Look at him yourself. You would not like one of your children served like he is. He is black and blue all over.’ And the magistrate looked. ‘Pooh!’ he said. ‘Is that all? I have had it worse than that many a time, and am all the better for it. I shan’t give you a summons. Take the boy away, and tell him to behave properly.’ But sometimes, when the parents can afford it, a solicitor makes application on their behalf, and assures the magistrate that the punishment has been excessive, and that medical evidence will be forthcoming. A summons is then granted, and the matter comes before the court.