Glimpses into the Abyss Part 10

This lodge was very small, and was occupied by a man, the workhouse buildings being a little way off. There were a good many trees around, and it was a pretty spot, but lonely. The man was a male pauper, and no one else was in sight. We had to enter his hut to answer questions, which he recorded in a book, and we were then out of sight of the house.

The nearest building was the tramp ward, the door of which stood open; but there was no one in it, as we afterwards found. A single woman would be completely at the mercy of this man. If our pilgrimage has had no other result, I shall be glad to be able to expose the positive wrong of allowing a male pauper, in a lonely office, to admit the female tramps.

When we first arrived at the gate he told us to wait a few minutes, as we were before time. Some male tramps came up, and we saw him send away one poor, utterly ragged man, who begged pitifully to be admitted. The lodge-keeper told him he could not claim because he had been in that workhouse within the month. So he limped away. He could not possibly reach another workhouse that night. The man admitted three others, and sent them on to the male quarters. He let us in at five minutes to six.

We thought this was kind, as he might have kept us waiting, and it had begun to rain. He took my friend's name, occupation, age, where she came from, and her destination, and then sent her on, rather imperatively, to the tramp ward. She stood at the door, some way off, waiting for me. He kept me inside his lodge, and began to take the details. He talked to me in what I suppose he thought a very agreeable manner, telling me he wished I had come alone earlier, and he would have given me a cup of tea. I thanked him, wondering if this was usual, and then he took my age, and finding I was a married woman (I must use his exact words), he said, "Just the right age for a bit of funning; come down to me later in the evening." I was too horror-struck to reply; besides, I was in his power, with no one within call but my friend, and all the conditions unknown and strange. Probably silence was best; he took it for consent, and, as other tramps were coming, let me pa.s.s on. I made a mental vow to expose him before I left the place. He took my bundle, and asked if I had any money. I gave him my last penny. I received a wooden token for the bundle. I then joined my friend, and told her she had better give up her umbrella and her penny. She went to do so after some tramps had pa.s.sed, and though I stood and waited, and she was only gone a moment, he tried to kiss her as she gave him the things!

When she joined me, very indignant, we went forward into an oblong room containing six bedsteads with wire mattresses and filthy straw pillows.

A wooden table and bench and "Regulations for Tramps" were the remaining articles of furniture. There were big, rather low, windows on three sides; the bottom panes were frosted, except one, which had been broken and mended with plain gla.s.s, and overlooked the yard where the male tramps worked. Presently our wayfaring friend arrived, and we all three sat and waited a considerable time. A solitary woman might have been at the mercy of the man at the gate some time. No one was in sight, or came near us, till at last a motherly-looking woman entered by a door leading to a room beyond. She asked us if we were clean. Our fellow-traveller (whose garments were at any rate _not_ clean) was let off, as she had spent the last night in a workhouse tramp ward. We said _we_ should like a bath, and were shown into a bath-room and allowed to bathe ourselves.

Our clothes were taken from us, and we were given blue nightgowns. These looked fairly clean, but had been worn before. They were dirty round the neck, and stained in places; we _hoped_ they had been stoved! The old woman dressed in one without bathing. We found in the morning that both blankets and nightgowns were folded up and put away on shelves, just as we found them, apparently, and left for new comers. We were told that the blankets were "often stoved," but I have since ascertained that they are not stoved at all workhouses every day. All kinds of personal vermin might be left in them by a tramp who went straight out of dirty clothes to bed, and even a bath might leave them open to suspicion. We saw several bugs on the ceiling in this ward. Perhaps the using of others'

dirty nightgowns was the most revolting feature in our tramp. At neither workhouse were the garments handed to us _clean_. We found afterwards that by Government regulation clean bath water and a clean garment can be _demanded_, but this we did not know. It should be _supplied_. After the bath we were each given four blankets and told to make our beds and get into them. The art of bed-making on a wire mattress, without any other mattress to cover it, is a difficult one, even with four blankets.

The regulation number is two, and with these I fancy the best plan would be to roll yourself round and lie on the mattress. For the wire abstracts heat from the body, and _one_ is an insufficient protection.

Even with one spread all over and another doubled under the body and two above I woke many times cold. In winter the ward is warmed by hot-water pipes, but the blankets are the same. A plank bed, such as is given in some workhouses, would probably be warmer, though harder. Put to bed, like babies, at about half-past six, the kind woman in charge brought us our food. We felt rather more cheerful after our bath, with the large, airy room, instead of the foul, common lodging-house; only one thing had exercised my mind--"What did that pauper mean by my going to him later?"

However, I told the portress all about what he said. She was very indignant, and said I must tell the superintendent of the tramp ward next morning, that she had to leave us, but would take good care to lock us in, and I need not be afraid, he could not get at us. We were _very_ hungry, having had nothing to eat since about twelve o'clock. Anything eatable would be welcome, and we were also thirsty. We were given a small lading-can three parts full of hot gruel and a thick crust of bread. The latter we were _quite_ hungry enough to eat, but when we tasted the gruel it was _perfectly saltless_. A salt-box on the table, into which many fingers had been dipped was brought us; the old woman said we were "lucky to get that." But we had no _spoons_; it was impossible to mix the salt properly into the ocean of nauseous food. I am fond of gruel, and in my hunger and thirst could easily have taken it if fairly palatable. But I could only cast in a few grains of salt and drink a little to moisten the dry bread; my companion could not stomach it at all, and the old woman, being accustomed to workhouse ways, had a little tea in her pocket, and got the kind attendant to pour the gruel down the w.c. and infuse her tea with hot water from the bath tap. We were then left locked in alone, at eight o'clock, when no more tramps would be admitted. The bath-room, containing our clothes, was locked; the closet was left unlocked; a pail was also given us for sanitary purposes. We had no means of a.s.suaging the thirst which grew upon us as the night went on; for dry bread, even if washed down with thin gruel, is very provocative of thirst. I no longer wonder that tramps beg twopence for a drink and make for the nearest public-house.

Left alone, we could hear outside the voice of the porter. I wondered if he expected us to open a window. However, we stayed quiet, but had one "scare." Suddenly a door at the end of the room was unlocked, and a _man_ put his head in! He only asked, "how many?" and when we answered "Three," he locked us in speedily. I could not, however, get to sleep for a long time after finding that a _man_ had the key of our room, especially as our elderly friend had told us of another workhouse where the portress left the care of the female tramps to a man almost entirely, and she added that "he did what he liked with them." I expressed horror at such a state of things, but she a.s.sured me it was so, and warned us not on any account to go into that workhouse. She said, however, that it was some time since she had been there, and "things might be different."

At last my companions slept the sleep of weariness. Sounds outside had ceased; within, my friend coughed and the old woman groaned and s.h.i.+fted.

The trees waved without the windows, and two bugs slowly crawled on the ceiling. I measured distances with my eye. They would not drop on _my_ bed! I pity the tramp who has only two blankets on a wire mattress. I could not get thoroughly warm with four; some part of me seemed constantly to feel the cold wire meshes through the thin covering. The floor would be preferable. I have been told since at one workhouse, with considerable surprise on the part of the portress, that the male tramps prefer the floor to their plank bed! I do not wonder. The pillow was too dirty to put one's face on, so I covered it with a blanket.

In this workhouse the management was lax--too lax to ensure cleanliness; clothes and towels appeared to have been used, and blankets were probably unstoved. As our own clothes are taken away and locked up, it would be impossible for a tramp to wash any article of personal clothing. Consequently she must tramp on, growing day by day more dirty, in spite of baths, especially as _really dirty_ work is required of her in return for "board and lodging!" There was no comb for the hair; fortunately we had one in our pocket.

In the morning we were roused about seven o'clock and told to dress. Our clothes were in the bath-room. We had the luxury of a morning wash. Our garments had been left on the floor just as we took them off, and so were our companion's, which looked decidedly unclean by daylight. The kind attendant said she had to go, but waited till I had told the portress (who arrived to set us our task) the conduct of the man at the gate, and I claimed her protection, as I should have to pa.s.s him when going out. Both exclaimed when I told his words, and one said, "Plenty of cups of tea I expect he's given, the villain!" The portress a.s.sured me she would watch me out, and that I need not fear him, as he daren't touch me when she was there, and she said that after I had gone she should report him.

Before this happened, however, we had our breakfast given us, which was exactly a repet.i.tion of supper--saltless gruel and dry bread. We ate as much as we could and were very thirsty. I had drunk some water with my hand from the bath-room tap as soon as I got up. We put what bread we could not eat into our pocket as a supply for the day, and were told to empty the rest of our gruel down the w.c. It thus disappeared; but what waste! A mug of coffee or tea would at least have washed down the dry bread; or a quarter of the quant.i.ty of gruel, properly made, would have been acceptable, with a mug of cold water for a proper drink.

The following list shows how we had spent our money:--

Lodging, first night 6_d_.

Lodging, second night 8_d_.

Loaf 2-1/2_d_.

Two cobs 3_d_.

1 brown cob 1-1/2_d_.

1 tea-cake 1_d_.

1/4-lb. b.u.t.ter 4_d_.

1/4-lb. cheese 2_d_.

In hand 2_d_.

We ate the cheese for dinner for two days. I do not think we could have kept our strength up for five days' tramping if it had not been for the plasmon mixed with our sugar, which we ate on our bread and b.u.t.ter or drank in our tea. My companion was very exhausted before evening this day, and her cough troubled her a great deal. Another week of this life would have made us both thoroughly ill. It is not only exposure and poor food, but _anxiety_ as to the next night's experience, that tells on the mind. Yet we knew that in two nights we should be no longer friendless.

Pity the poor woman who has _no home_. Is it not almost inevitable that she should sink?

As we had now no food, we were glad to appropriate the remainder of our workhouse bread, putting it in our pocket. We should have nothing else that day, for the portress told us when we had done our work we might go out at eleven o'clock. We thanked her--we had expected to stay another night, and perhaps pick oak.u.m, but we should have almost starved on the food, as our sugar was in our bundle, so we were relieved to find we had only to clean the tramp ward and go. We were told to "_sweep_ the ward and make all clean." We did not think of _scrubbing_ the room, which, as it was large, would have been a big task, but the portress afterwards scolded us for not doing so. It was not dirty, so we swept it, cleaned the taps, bath, and wash-basins, washed up the pots, dusted, and, having made all tidy (except that we could find nowhere to empty our dust-pan, unless it was the w.c.), we waited for release. We sat on the form, and when the portress came in and saw us sitting down she spoke to us very sharply. I suppose she did not like to see us idle. We told her we would have scrubbed the floor if we had known we ought; but we did not know, as we had never been in a workhouse before. She was somewhat mollified, and let us off with a mild scolding some time before eleven o'clock. She stood at the door and watched us receive our things from the male pauper and leave the gates. He hastened to give us them without a word, and also restored our two pennies. We said farewell at the end of the lane to our companion, who was going the opposite way, and commenced our tramp. We expected the next workhouse to be about four miles away, in a town which we knew lay between us and our final destination. But it turned out that the Union we were leaving and the Union on the outskirts of the town to which we were ultimately bound absorbed all the paupers from the intervening places, though of considerable size. So we had really a very long walk before us; but, not knowing this, as it was very gloomy and inclined to rain heavily, we thought we had better seek shelter. We bought some b.u.t.ter with a penny, and walked on to find a quiet place to eat something, as it was some hours since we had had breakfast. We could not find anywhere but a damp stone wall in some fields. There we _feasted_ on bread and b.u.t.ter and plasmon sugar; but we were _very_ thirsty, so we took courage to beg, as we had a screw of tea left. I went to a cottage and asked for a drink.

There was a boiling kettle on the fire, so I said we had a little tea of our own, and the kind young woman, who had a blind old father, made us tea and sweetened and milked it for us. I knew the town to which we were going well, so we talked about the changes in it of recent years, as I was "returning to friends there." She did not know the distance of the next workhouse, but told us about the intervening towns. We left refreshed, but it was beginning to rain, so we walked on, looking for shelter. We saw a church surrounded by trees standing all by itself, with a large graveyard. This looked a hopeful spot, so we made for it, though it was rather out of our route. There we stayed an hour or two, sheltering under trees or in the porch, and eating the last of our workhouse bread about one o'clock. Part of the time it rained very heavily, and though it was summer time we felt cold. At last the rain moderated, and we set off for a steady tramp.

IV. A SECOND NIGHT IN THE WORKHOUSE TRAMP WARD.

The miles between us and our destination seemed to _grow_ as walked. The replies we got varied from four miles to eight; we discovered that some were directing us _back_ to the union we had come from. I do not know what the distance really was, but if we added up the distances we were told it must have been nearly eleven miles. I believe we went considerably out of our direct route. We had come about two miles, and after we began to tramp in earnest we only rested a short time once or twice to dodge heavy showers. We were walking from about two o'clock till nearly eight before we reached the workhouse, but my companion grew so weary she could only crawl, and I pushed her up the long, long hills.

We seemed to go up and up, and always a long hill in front. We _had_ to give up trying to dodge the rain, and walk steadily on through the wet, which grew worse and worse. We were very wet indeed before we reached the shelter of the Union, and only just in time to be admitted. I feared we should have been left shelterless. The workhouse was in such an out-of-the-way place that it was hard to find; we thought we should never find it, and grew very discouraged, but could not walk faster. To ease our minds we told each other the story of our lives from childhood, taking turns as we got tired and out of breath. We had now had no food for nearly seven hours. At last we came to a dirty lane, by the side of a high stone embankment, leading to big gates. We plunged down it; our feet by this time were soaked and our shawls nearly wet through. With some difficulty we found the lodge, a large, substantial stone building, with an office occupied by a single man. He looked more respectable than the other one, and asked us the questions in a straightforward matter-of-fact way that was a pleasant contrast. He told us to sit on a seat and wait for the portress. We sat for quite a quarter of an hour in our wet things. Two young men, who seemed to be related to officials and familiar with the place, pa.s.sed through; otherwise we were quite alone with this man, and he began to talk in a familiar and most disagreeable manner. He asked me where my husband was, and insinuated that I had been leading an immoral life. He said a married woman needed to "sleep warm."

He told us he was a pauper and lived there, asked how we liked his house, said if there was one woman "he often shared his breakfast with her." He produced a screw of salt and gave it us as a favour. Being _two_ we were protection to each other, and pa.s.sed off the conversation as well as we could, telling him that we were not of _that_ sort, that we had only taken shelter, and were going to friends. He said he hoped he should see us in the morning. _We_ hoped not. He told us the portress often kept a single woman more than two days to do her cleaning, giving her rather better food. We dared not offend him. What might happen to a single woman alone with such men?

At last, to our great relief, the portress came. She was comparatively young, dressed somewhat like a nurse, very quick and sharp, and evidently she had many other duties, and this part of her work was distasteful to her. She was very cross at being summoned so late, and said at first we ought not to have been admitted, as it was past eight; but the man told her we had been waiting. We should have been glad of a little of "the milk of human kindness" in our wet, weary condition, but we were "only tramps," and were ordered about sharply. She told us to follow her to the bath-room. It was a stone-floored room at the end of a stone pa.s.sage, from which led out four stone cells. Each contained a bed, and was imperfectly lighted by a square aperture, high up, leading into the pa.s.sage. The walls were stone, spotlessly whitewashed. She asked what we had got in our pockets, but did not search us. She took our bundles and asked how much money we had, but did not take our solitary penny. She insisted on a bath, and watched us undress, telling us to leave our clothes, and giving us nightdresses doubtfully clean.

(The necks were _dirty_.) We hurried for fear of offending her. She asked if we would sleep together or alone, as the beds were double. We were glad to be together. My friend said she should have cried all night if shut up alone in one of these prison-like cells. I was ready first, and was given four blankets. To walk on a stone floor straight from a warm bath in a thin cotton night-dress and make your bed is not very nice. But I have since seen nightdresses made of rough bathing flannel, and as broad as they are short! I suppose "anything is good enough for tramps." It is hardly realised that respectable dest.i.tute women might have no other shelter. The conditions are such that probably few do apply. The accommodation at this workhouse, which appeared to be a large one--four cells, with beds for a possible eight--showed that few probably applied at that Union, while the porter said that often there was only one. Yet there are many dest.i.tute women, as Homes and Shelters show. Are they forced into the common lodging-houses--or worse? The bed was a most peculiar affair. In addition to the wire mattress it had a _wire_ pillow, and _no other_. This was a flat, woven wire _shelf_ raised a few inches above the mattress. Its discomforts were still to be experienced.

I made this curious bed as well as I could, spreading one blanket over it and the pillow, doubling another for our backs, and reserving two to cover us. We got into bed and were given the regulation mugs of porridge and thick slices of dry bread. We were then locked in and left. We had one spoon between us. There was no light except from the aperture, but it was not yet dark. We were prisoners indeed, and a plank bed would have been more comfortable. The pillow was a cruel invention--it was impossible to place one's head upon it; the edge cut the back of your neck, even through a blanket, and the rough meshes hurt your face. We could not spare a blanket to double up for a pillow, we were cold as it was; the blankets underneath barely kept off the rough wires, and two were little enough to cover in a cold stone cell. The pillow was a torture; we finally put our heads _under_ it and lay flat, screwed up into any position that gave ease. Over our heads was a framed motto and verses about "Jesus only." I wondered whether _He_ would think this the proper lodging for a "stranger!" We were thirsty and hungry--but alas!

when we tasted our gruel, our _only_ drink, it was sweetened to nauseousness with treacle! It was, indeed, to all intents and purposes "treacle posset." Anyone with a grain of common sense can realise the effect on the system of taking this sort of stuff immediately after a warm bath, following a wetting. In fact, the diet produced a peculiarly loosened feeling in the skin, as if all the pores were open, which made it very hard to work. I usually perspire little, but next morning, while working, I was again and again in a profuse perspiration, and this produced a feeling of weakness, and culminated in a sharp attack of diarrhoea--fortunately after I had reached my friends. Anyone who thinks will see that this would only be a natural result of the diet with many people. We were terribly hungry, and ate our bread; this made us still more thirsty, but there was nothing to quench our thirst but the thick, sweet gruel--very good in quality, but most nauseous. The thirst we suffered from that night can be imagined better than described. "I was thirsty and ye gave me no drink," kept running through my mind whenever I turned my eyes up to spell out the words of "Jesus only." This was our worst night; we were very weary, but could get no ease; we fell into restless slumber, to wake again and again from thirst or cold or some pain caused by our uneasy couch. Long before we were called we were wide awake, longing to get up. About six o'clock, probably, our cell door was unlocked, and we were told to dress. We hastened to the bath-room and drank eagerly at the tap. Our wet clothes were lying just where we left them. They were still quite damp and our boots wet through. Had we known, we might have left them in a rather different position, on some hot pipes; but we thought they were sure to be stoved, as the portress knew we had taken shelter from pouring rain.

We had told her we could not reach our friends in the neighbouring town because of it. There was nothing to do but to put our wet things on and set to work. A woman brought us a pair of men's boots, very damp, with blacking and brushes, and told us to polish them for her before we had our breakfast. We did this, which doubtless was extra, and were rewarded with a mug of her coffee, with one mug of the same sort of gruel, and two thick slices of bread. The coffee was such a treat. I have made some enquiries since, and have found at least one workhouse where the gruel is replaced by coffee, though this is contrary to regulations. The reason given is that the tramps never eat the gruel, and frequently _throw_ it about, and even at one another, making a great mess! Also, being made in summer overnight, it turns sour, and "is not fit for pigs!" Is any comment needed? How many tons of good oatmeal must be wasted every year! It is _absolute_ waste, as we were again told to empty our mugs of the night before down the w.c., and put them away clean. So not even the pigs have the benefit of it!

There was no room to sit in, or seat, except a short form, just big enough for two, in the bath-room. No table--and mugs and bread were put on a window-sill. We sat on the form by a window, a few inches open, that looked on some shrubs, and as we sat there a man--a pauper--pa.s.sed and stared in. We moved away. He went, and we again took our seats, but presently he returned and stood staring in. We had fled to either side when we saw him coming, but presently my friend _peeped_, and there he was, standing staring in. She gave him some sharp words and ordered him off; he disappeared, but evidently this was a means of communication between men and women. The window, however, would not open wide, but conversation would be easy. Presently the portress came, very brisk and sharp. I was told to clean and stone a larder some distance off. We had already done a little work while waiting. Knowing we should have to do it, we folded our blankets, washed our pots, and cleaned the bath-room taps. All was made clean and tidy when the portress came, but we were not to get off so easily! My friend was told to stone the place completely through, including the three cells not used (which looked clean), to black-lead the hot-water pipes all down the pa.s.sage, dust everywhere thoroughly, and clean the step. Meanwhile I had first to do some shelves and then stone a spiral stair and the floor of a small larder, and then go on to other work. I think, probably, the work we did would have taken the ordinary tramp a full day, and earned another bed and breakfast. But we did not dawdle, but worked steadily on, and pleased the portress so much that eventually she said we might go that day. We could not finish our task by eleven, so she kindly gave us our dinner and let us go after it, saying we should have time to reach our friends. Evidently she saw we were above the usual tramp, and our work pleased her. She asked us a few questions, but our answers, that we were tramping from L---- to B----, having come short of money before we reached our friends, satisfied her, being true. This portress came backwards and forwards pretty frequently, and so did our acquaintance of the previous night, who seemed to have numerous errands by the larder where I was cleaning, but I neither looked at him nor spoke, so he did not make any advances. It would have been easy to "carry on" with him in the intervals between the times when the portress came. The woman pauper who brought in the boots was, however, to be seen within call, in a room near by, the door of which was open, so I felt protected. She was a decent woman and kind to us. She said she "didn't do it for everyone,"

when she afterwards brought us part of her dinner. After finis.h.i.+ng the larder, the portress set me to turn out bundles, which were stacked in compartments on either side of a long, high room, right up to the ceiling. I had a high pair of steps, and was to take each bundle out and dust it with a brush, sweep out the compartment, and replace it. Each parcel, as a rule, was wrapped in rough linen wrappings, but a considerable number of things were unparcelled, and some dirty and foul-smelling--probably they had been only stoved and put away. All the bundles which were not tightly tied were more or less moth-eaten. It made my heart ache to see these clothes in such a state, remembering that they were all that some poor people possessed. I had often noticed the lack of care with regard to dest.i.tute women's clothing, having fetched girls out of the workhouse whose clothes were so crumpled, even when decent, that everyone stared at them--and had received from poor people many complaints that their clothes were lost or spoiled. After seeing the state of this store-room I can well believe it. Behind the bundles were cobwebs simply festooned with moths. They had attacked the bundles at every opening. The coverings kept them off, but some bundles were rotten, and one sad thing was that if a bundle was rather more respectable, and contained more clothes, it was not so tightly tied, and was, therefore, more open to attack. Besides, not a few things were quite unprotected and swarming. The place was heated with pipes. A better breeding ground for moths could hardly be imagined. Yet a simple expedient would have prevented _most_ of the mischief. If each bundle had been provided with _two_ wrappers, and the second one tied over the openings of the first, the moths could not get in. Besides this, however, the whole should be examined more frequently. I turned out more than a hundred bundles, and was then told to simply _dust down the front_ of the remainder. Doubtless this had been done often, and all _looked_ right. I showed the portress, however, so many moth-eaten bundles that she said she must have them all stoved. She came and said I might stone the floor and finish, my companion having finished about the same time. We had rough ap.r.o.ns given us to work in; but I should like to mention, as a subject for thought, that all this rough, hard work naturally made our clothes dirty, and would soon wear them out. We were, after only two nights in workhouse tramp wards, far more dirty and disreputable in our clothing than when we left home. The sleeves of my blouse were very dirty by this time. Yet in the workhouse, as bundles are confiscated, there is no chance to change, and no opportunity to wash a garment. One is "between Scylla and Charybdis!" In the common lodging-house you can wash your clothes, but not yourself; in the workhouse tramp ward you can wash yourself, but not your clothes!

We had bread and cheese given us for dinner; we had our bundles given us, and mashed our last tea with water from the bath tap. The kind woman brought us part of her dinner, telling us to return the plate and not let the portress see it. We then got leave to go. The portress was in the lodge, and we pa.s.sed out without remark.

Once more we were free!--but very exhausted. We felt completely tired out, and struggling up the dirty lane we found a reservoir and some public seats. We took turns to rest, lying on a seat, for some men were about, and kept walking backwards and forwards and laughing at us. The ground was damp, so it was no use seeking a more sheltered place. We rested an hour or two, till we began to grow cold.

V. A NIGHT IN A WOMAN'S SHELTER.

We knew that three good miles lay between us and our friends, but we were also a day beforehand, as we had expected to be detained two nights. What to do for this last night considerably exercised us! Should we give in, and go to our friends a day earlier? This would be to lose an opportunity for research which might be long in recurring. Should we go to another workhouse? This would be to risk detention over Sunday.

Should we try a night in the open? I knew the neighbourhood fairly well, and it might be possible to find shelter; but the weather was gloomy and damp, and it would hardly do to risk making an appearance in a police court when I had been announced to speak publicly on Sunday evening. So we determined to walk on, and, if we could not find any other alternative, to p.a.w.n our spare shawl for a night's lodging. Only we neither of us cared to face a common lodging-house; it would be hardly fair to our friends to arrive at civilisation straight from such surroundings. At any rate, we had the rest of the day for experiment, some workhouse bread, some plasmon sugar, and _one penny_! We went to a park, and spent part of the afternoon sheltering from rain, and then pushed on for the town. I pa.s.sed the houses of friends who would have stared indeed to see me, but probably no one would have recognised us.

It got near tea-time, and we tried again and again to spend our last penny on _b.u.t.ter_. No one would sell us a pennyworth, so finally we went to the third-cla.s.s waiting-room of the station and ate our bread with plasmon sugar. Here our problem was solved! We saw by a notice that there was a "Woman's Shelter": beds 3_d_., 4_d_. and 5_d_. Just the thing! Here was a new and final experiment: we should not have to give in! So we went out to search for the shelter and a p.a.w.nbroker's, and easily found both; we changed our best shawl for the poor one that covered our bundle, but would do as a subst.i.tute, and p.a.w.ned the shawl--which had cost 8_s_. 11_d_.--for 2_s_. 6_d_. We were then "pa.s.sing rich"! We enquired at the shelter, which had only just been re-opened after the small-pox epidemic, and after engaging two fourpenny beds we went to a coffee-house near by, and indulged in the luxury of two half-pints of tea; my friend had some sausage and I a tea-cake _b.u.t.tered_. After this welcome meal we returned to the shelter. It was a great relief to find ourselves once more in a decent place, and with women only. I cannot too highly commend this shelter as being _just the thing needed for the cla.s.s it provides for_.[83] It was not a _charity_, though doubtless not wholly self-supporting. We paid for what we received, and were free to come and go unquestioned. Particulars were entered similar to those in the workhouse (in addition, we were asked the address to which we were going). Women could enter up to eleven at night. The place was a converted mill. The bas.e.m.e.nt consisted of a large, comfortable kitchen, with a large stove, benches and tables and shelves. There was also a well-appointed lavatory, deep basins, plenty of hot and cold water, a wringing machine for clothes, and baths could be had _free_. We easily begged a bucket to wash our tired feet. There was _everything necessary for personal cleanliness_, and in the presence of women only (especially as only one or two were in the lavatory), changes of clothing could be made. The women were friendly and cheerful, and appeared to appreciate their privileges. There was no _restraint_, but a pleasant, elderly woman in charge sat in the kitchen and prevented foul talk and brawls. Upstairs was a large, pleasant hall, with a piano.

Some women of a better cla.s.s apparently preferred this, and sat working.

This also was easily supervised, without its being noticeable, by the presence of someone in the adjoining office. We could go to bed at nine, ten, or eleven, but not between, so that the bedrooms were only disturbed at these hours. Three stories above contained bedrooms--large, airy rooms, with beds at graded prices. The w.c.'s were in a yard out of an upper story, and were clean and well flushed.

Altogether I was most thankful for this opportunity of seeing just the sort of provision for migrating women which should exist in _every_ town. Even if some of the inmates were immoral, they were in no temptation at least while there. One woman told another she knew she had given way to drink, but was glad to get back to "the old place," and there appeared to be some who lived there who tried as much as they could to exercise a good influence. There was a "Sankey" on the piano, and I played a few tunes as well as I could without spectacles; this was warmly appreciated, and several joined in singing, my stumbling playing suiting my condition of "having seen better days!" Some young ladies pa.s.sed through and said, "Who is she?" but made no further remark.

We went to bed at nine. My bed was clean, but my companion's was dirty, and a very dirty woman slept next, who had had drink, and got out frequently in the night, and _sat_ on my friend's bed. She saw some vermin, but I saw none, and slept very fairly well. People came in at ten, and at eleven a woman and some children came in, and settled down rather noisily. Room-mates got out of bed at intervals, and early trams ran outside, and some got up early, but on the whole we had a good night compared with other experiences. The cleanliness of the floor left something to be desired, and we were told to make our beds before we went downstairs; so they would be left for the next comer, clean or unclean. We heard several expressions of thankfulness for the place, only one woman said, "They only did what they were paid for, and she didn't see that it was much charity." We found our way downstairs for a wash, and after sitting a little while in the kitchen we went to the neighbouring coffee tavern for breakfast. After this we had still 1_s_.

1-1/2_d_. left out of our 2_s_. 6_d_., and some spare provision, including some workhouse bread. The remainder we decided to spend on making ourselves _respectable_. It may be thought that this would be difficult, but by a little contrivance we managed to make ourselves sufficiently presentable to elude scrutiny, and to pa.s.s for shabby tourists on a "walking expedition." Our luggage had been sent on, and supplies of money awaited us. Therefore the only problem was that of changing from "tramps" to "tourists." Bad weather would account for boots and untidiness. We found a cheap shop, and bought a hat and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, tie, and belt for a s.h.i.+lling. My friend put on a more respectable underskirt of mine over her linsey petticoat. Her hat and shawl would pa.s.s muster. My new hat, tie, and belt "converted" me into a lady! We went to a park to trim the hat with pins, which we bought for a halfpenny. There we remained till afternoon, dining on our remaining bread, except what we gave to the swans. Immediately overlooking this park friends lived who little guessed that one who was to visit them shortly was dining under their windows as a "dest.i.tute woman!" Our dest.i.tution was, however, at an end, and with hearts full of thankfulness at the successful issue of our research expedition we found our way at the appointed time to the house where we were expected by a friend, who thought she quite understood our desire for a speedy change of apparel after our "walking tour!"

These latter experiences of eluding questions caused us some amus.e.m.e.nt.

But _supposing_ we had had no friends, no cheerful welcome, no waiting supplies. What could we have done? Before us would have stretched, in grey monotony, the life of poverty, a possible search for uncertain work, a gradual p.a.w.ning of every available article for food, more workhouses, more common lodging-houses. The last article gone, cleanliness lost, clothing dilapidated or dirty--what then?

To wander helpless and homeless, driven to tramp, or to descend still farther into vice. From such a life "_facilis descensus Averni_."[84]

FOOTNOTES:

[82] See Appendix VII.

[83] See p. 30.

[84] See Appendix VII.

CHAPTER III.

A NORTHERN TRAMP WARD.[85]

Having, with a friend, spent five days and nights of the summer of 1903 as a "Tramp among Tramps,"[86] I was led to pursue social investigation a little further. The reasons were many. It was suggested in several quarters that our experiences might be exceptional, that they were the result of specimening isolated workhouses, that mismanagement in detail was possible. Abnormal conditions might prevail by accident. It might also be that in the larger centres of population cleanliness and food were both better managed. Also the time of year at which we went was one when the tramp ward was empty; we did not come in contact with others and learn their character. It was possible that conditions which pressed hardly on us were easy to them. It seemed very desirable to ascertain exactly the winter circ.u.mstances in some large centre of population.

There were reasons which made the one we chose exceptionally interesting as an experiment. The story of our Tramp was a matter of public knowledge; the personal a.s.surance of Guardians had been given that the evils mentioned did not exist. They had examined and convinced themselves that, as regards the dest.i.tute poor, their workhouses were free from blame. Not only so, but the workhouse tramp ward chosen had been frequently mentioned in the public Press. A large "sleeping-out"

problem existed in the town. It was suggested that it might be desirable to relax regulations so as to make it easier for dest.i.tute persons staying there to go out in the morning to look for work. "It was thought that in this way men who shunned the casual ward might be induced to enter it in preference to sleeping out." So said the public Press. The experiment of slightly relaxing the rules was tried. Very few availed themselves of it.[87] The Guardians also opened the wards early, but very few men came. The applicants were mostly men "tramping in search of work," but all who applied had slept in the neighbourhood the night previously.