In Darkest England, and the Way Out

by William Booth

We put the following question to the entire number: — "If you were put on a farm, and set to work at anything you could do, and supplied with food, lodging, and clothing, with a view to getting you on to your feet, would you be willing to do all you could?"

In response, the whole 250 replied in the affirmative, with one exception, and on enquiry we elicited that, being a sailor, the man was afraid he would not know how to do the work.

On being interrogated as to their willingness to grapple with the hard labour on the land, they said: "Why should we not? Look at us. Can any plight be more miserable than ours?" Why not, indeed? A glance at them would certainly make it impossible for any thoughtful person to assign a rational reason for their refusal—in rags, swarming with vermin, hungry, many of them living on scraps of food, begged or earned in the most haphazard fashion, without sufficient clothing to cover their poor gaunt limbs, most of them without a shirt. They had to start out the next morning, uncertain which way to turn to earn a crust for dinner, or the fourpence necessary to supply them again with the humble shelter they had enjoyed that night. The idea of their refusing employment which would supply abundantly the necessaries of life, and give the prospect of becoming, in process of time, the owner of a home, with its comforts and companionships, is beyond conception. There is not much question that this class will not only accept the Scheme we want to set before them, but gratefully do all in their power to make it a success.

II.—Too many would come. This would be very probable. There would certainly be too many apply. But we should be under no obligation to take more than was convenient. The larger the number of applications the wider the field for selection, and the greater the necessity for the enlargement of our operations.

III.—They would run away. It is further objected that if they did come, the monotony of the life, the strangeness of the work, together with the absence of the excitements and amusements with which they had been entertained in the cities and towns, would render their existence unbearable. Even when left to the streets, there is an amount of life and action in the city which is very attractive. Doubtless some would run away, but I don't think this would be a large proportion. The change would be so great, and so palpably advantageous, that I think they would find in it ample compensation for the deprivation of any little pleasureable excitement they had left behind them in the city. For instance, there would be—

A Sufficiency of Food.

The friendliness and sympathy of their new associates. There would be abundance of companions of similar tastes and circumstances— not all pious. It would be quite another matter to going single-handed on to a farm, or into a melancholy family.

Then there would be the prospect of doing well for themselves in the future, together with all the religious life, meetings, music, and freedom of the Salvation Army.

But what says our experience?

If there be one class which is the despair of the social reformer, it is that which is variously described, but which we may term the lost women of our streets. From the point of view of the industrial organiser, they suffer from almost every fault that human material can possess. They are, with some exceptions, untrained to labour, demoralised by a life of debauchery, accustomed to the wildest license, emancipated from all discipline but that of starvation, given to drink, and, for the most part, impaired in health. If, therefore, any considerable number of this class can be shown to be ready to submit themselves voluntarily to discipline, to endure deprivation of drink, and to apply themselves steadily to industry, then example will go a long way towards proving that even the worst description of humanity, when intelligently, thoroughly handled, is amenable to discipline and willing to work. In our British Rescue Homes we receive considerably over a thousand unfortunates every year; while all over the world, our annual average is two thousand. The work has been in progress for three years—long enough to enable us to test very fully the capacity of the class in question to reform.