There comes along a grimy,ragged,footsore tramp,his feet bursting out from the sides of his shoes,his clothes all rags,with filthy shirt and towselled hair.He has been,he tells you,on the tramp for the last three weeks,seeking work and finding none,slept last night on the Embankment,and wants to know if you can give him a bite and a sup,and shelter for the night.Has he any money?Not he;he probably spent the last penny he begged or earned in a pipe of tobacco,with which to dull the cravings of his hungry stomach.What are you to do with this man?
Remember this is no fancy sketch--it is a typical case.There are hundreds and thousands of such applicants.Any one who is at all familiar with life in London and our other large towns,will recognise that gaunt figure standing there asking for bread and shelter or for work by which he can obtain both.What can we do with him?Before him Society stands paralysed,quieting its conscience every now and then by an occasional dole of bread and soup,varied with the semi-criminal treatment of the Casual Ward,until the manhood is crushed out of the man and you have in your hands a reckless,despairing,spirit-broken creature,with not even an aspiration to rise above his miserable circumstances,covered with vermin and filth,sinking ever lower and lower,until at last he is hurried out of sight in the rough shell which carries him to a pauper's grave.
I propose to take that man,put a strong arm round him,and extricate him from the mire in which he is all but suffocated.As a first step we will say to him,"You are hungry,here is food;you are homeless,here is a shelter for your head;but remember you must work for your rations.This is not charity;it is work for the workless,help for those who cannot help themselves.There is the labour shed,go and earn your fourpence,and then come in out of the cold and the wet into the warm shelter;here is your mug of coffee and your great chunk of bread,and after you have finished these there is a meeting going on in full swing with its joyful music and hearty human intercourse.There are those who pray for you and with you,and will make you feel yourself a brother among men.There is your shake-down on the floor,where you will have your warm,quiet bed,undisturbed by the ribaldry and curses with which you have been familiar too long.There is the wash-house,where you can have a thorough wash-up at last,after all these days of unwashedness.There is plenty of soap and warm water and clean towels;there,too,you can wash your shirt and have it dried while you sleep.
In the morning when you get up there will be breakfast for you,and your shirt will be dry and clean.Then when you are washed and rested,and are no longer faint with hunger,you can go and seek a job,or go back to the Labour shop until something better turns up."But where and how?
Now let me introduce you to our Labour Yard.Here is no pretence of charity beyond the charity which gives a man remunerative labour.
It is not our business to pay men wages.What we propose is to enable those,male or female,who are destitute,to earn their rations and do enough work to pay for their lodging until they are able to go out into the world and earn wages for themselves.There is no compulsion upon any one to resort to our shelter,but if a penniless man wants food he must,as a rule,do work sufficient to pay for what he has of that and of other accommodation.I say as a rule because,of course,our Officers will be allowed to make exceptions in extreme cases,but the rule will be first work then eat.And that amount of work will be exacted rigorously.It is that which distinguishes this Scheme from mere charitable relief.
I do not wish to have any hand in establishing a new centre of demoralisation.I do not want my customers to be pauperised by being treated to anything which they do not earn.To develop self-respect in the man,to make him feel that at last he has go this foot planted on the first rung of the ladder which leads upwards,is vitally important,and this cannot be done unless the bargain between him and me is strictly carried out.So much coffee,so much bread,so much shelter,so much warmth and light from me,but so much labour in return from him.
What labour?it is asked.For answer to this question I would like to take you down to our Industrial Workshops in Whitechapel.There you will see the Scheme in experimental operation.What we are doing there we propose to do everywhere up to the extent of the necessity,and there is no reason why we should fail elsewhere if we can succeed there.
Our Industrial Factory at Whitechapel was established this Spring.
We opened it on a very small scale.It has developed until we have nearly ninety men at work.Some of these are skilled workmen who are engaged in carpentry.The particular job they have now in hand is the making of benches for the Salvation Army.Others are engaged in mat-making,some are cobblers,others painters,and so forth.
This trial effort has,so far,answered admirably.No one who is taken on comes for a permanency.So long as he is willing to work for his rations he is supplied with materials and provided with skilled superintendents.The hours of work are eight per day.Here are the rules and regulations under which the work is carried on at present:-THE SALVATION ARMY SOCIAL REFORM WING.
Temporary Headquarters--
36,UPPER THAMES STREET,LONDON,E.C,CITY INDUSTRIAL WORKSHOPS.
OBJECTS.--These workshops are open for the relief of the unemployed and destitute,the object being to make it unnecessary for the homeless or workless to be compelled to go to the Workhouse or Casual Ward,food and shelter being provided for them in exchange for work done by them,until they can procure work for themselves,or it can be found for them elsewhere.
