Facing the `Problem'
Nearly every other firm in the town was in much the same plight as Rushton & Co.; none of them had anything to speak of to do, and the workmen no longer troubled to go to the different shops asking for a job.They knew it was of no use.Most of them just walked about aimlessly or stood talking in groups in the streets, principally in the neighbourhood of the Wage Slave Market near the fountain on the Grand Parade.They congregated here in such numbers that one or two residents wrote to the local papers complaining of the `nuisance', and pointing out that it was calculated to drive the `better-class'
visitors out of the town.After this two or three extra policemen were put on duty near the fountain with instructions to `move on' any groups of unemployed that formed.They could not stop them from coming there, but they prevented them standing about.
The processions of unemployed continued every day, and the money they begged from the public was divided equally amongst those who took part.Sometimes it amounted to one and sixpence each, sometimes it was a little more and sometimes a little less.These men presented a terrible spectacle as they slunk through the dreary streets, through the rain or the snow, with the slush soaking into their broken boots, and, worse still, with the bitterly cold east wind penetrating their rotten clothing and freezing their famished bodies.
The majority of the skilled workers still held aloof from these processions, although their haggard faces bore involuntary testimony to their sufferings.Although privation reigned supreme in their desolate homes, where there was often neither food nor light nor fire, they were too `proud' to parade their misery before each other or the world.They secretly sold or pawned their clothing and their furniture and lived in semi-starvation on the proceeds, and on credit, but they would not beg.Many of them even echoed the sentiments of those who had written to the papers, and with a strange lack of class-sympathy blamed those who took part in the processions.They said it was that sort of thing that drove the `better class' away, injured the town, and caused all the poverty and unemployment.
However, some of them accepted charity in other ways; district visitors distributed tickets for coal and groceries.Not that that sort of thing made much difference; there was usually a great deal of fuss and advice, many quotations of Scripture, and very little groceries.And even what there was generally went to the least-deserving people, because the only way to obtain any of this sort of `charity' is by hypocritically pretending to be religious: and the greater the hypocrite, the greater the quantity of coal and groceries.These `charitable' people went into the wretched homes of the poor and - in effect - said: `Abandon every particle of self-respect: cringe and fawn: come to church: bow down and grovel to us, and in return we'll give you a ticket that you can take to a certain shop and exchange for a shillingsworth of groceries.And, if you're very servile and humble we may give you another one next week.'
They never gave the `case' the money.The ticket system serves three purposes.It prevents the `case' abusing the `charity' by spending the money on drink.It advertises the benevolence of the donors: and it enables the grocer - who is usually a member of the church - to get rid of any stale or damaged stock he may have on hand.
When these visiting ladies' went into a workman's house and found it clean and decently furnished, and the children clean and tidy, they came to the conclusion that those people were not suitable `cases' for assistance.Perhaps the children had had next to nothing to eat, and would have been in rags if the mother had not worked like a slave washing and mending their clothes.But these were not the sort of cases that the visiting ladies assisted; they only gave to those who were in a state of absolute squalor and destitution, and then only on condition that they whined and grovelled.
In addition to this district visitor business, the well-to-do inhabitants and the local authorities attempted - or rather, pretended - to grapple with the poverty `problem' in many other ways, and the columns of the local papers were filled with letters from all sorts of cranks who suggested various remedies.One individual, whose income was derived from brewery shares, attributed the prevailing distress to the drunken and improvident habits of the lower orders.
Another suggested that it was a Divine protest against the growth of Ritualism and what he called `fleshly religion', and suggested a day of humiliation and prayer.A great number of well-fed persons thought this such an excellent proposition that they proceeded to put it into practice.They prayed, whilst the unemployed and the little children fasted.
If one had not been oppressed by the tragedy of Want and Misery, one might have laughed at the farcical, imbecile measures that were taken to relieve it.Several churches held what they called `Rummage' or `jumble' sales.They sent out circulars something like this:
JUMBLE SALE
in aid of the Unemployed.
If you have any articles of any description which are of no further use to you, we should be grateful for them, and if you will kindly fill in annexed form and post it to us, we will send and collect them.
On the day of the sale the parish room was transformed into a kind of Marine Stores, filled with all manner of rubbish, with the parson and the visiting ladies grinning in the midst.The things were sold for next to nothing to such as cared to buy them, and the local rag-and-bone man reaped a fine harvest.The proceeds of these sales were distributed in `charity' and it was usually a case of much cry and little wool.
