THE ENGLISH POOR-LAW.

THE opening months of the reign of Queen Victoria witnessed the inauguration of the new system of Poor-Law administration. The last weeks of that memorable reign saw the complete abandonment of the principles laid down by the reformers of the thirties. The Poor-Law, as once understood in England, is dead; dead as Julius Cæsar. A Radical government might have been expected to perform the last rites over this venerable legacy of the Reformation; but the unexpected has happened, and new point has been given to the trite saying that "Liberal governments only mark time; they never put the left foot forward, leaving that necessary movement to their Tory successors."

During by far the greater portion of the late sovereign's occupation of the throne, the one idea of all Poor-Law guardians was the rigorous administration of the law; the great test of the necessary destitution being willingness to enter the walls of the institution known with grim humor as "the house." That the evil of poverty could be cured by making the "house" as uncomfortable as possible, by placing every obstacle in the way of out-door relief, by severe surveillance, and by the deprivation of the franchise were common beliefs, fostered, no doubt, by the study of that wonderful document which every social reformer ought to read the Report of the Poor-Law Commissioners. They reported, and with only too much reason, that the workhouses of the kingdom were the resort of the idle and the profligate of both sexes, and that they were mere seminaries for the preparation of victims for the penal code.

With such a picture before his eyes, it is not to be wondered at that the average guardian who, as often as not, was the product of the surplus elements of the political parties, not regarded good enough for a councillorship-made the workhouse as cheerless as the Local Government Board would allow him, where, with liberty restricted and meals just sufficient to keep body and soul together, the pauper had to content himself or clear out. The accommodation for the sick was notoriously inadequate; and though here and there, notably in the large cities, men like Mr. William Rathbone, of Liverpool, arose to point out the right

path to pursue in the joint interests of patient and taxpayer, little or no change took place in the management of workhouses or workhouse infirmaries. For years Mr. Rathbone paid out of his own pocket the cost of trained nurses for the Liverpool Workhouse, in order to convince reluctant guardians, brought up on the old lines, of the advantages of such a system, almost universal at this moment, thanks to the noble founder mentioned.

The old principles are admirably summed up in the following extract from a paper written by Mr. George Rooke, for many years chairman of the Manchester Board of Guardians, and a man of wide experience:

"Some years ago I read a paper before the Manchester Statistical Society, in which I showed that the cost of administering the English Poor-Law was twenty per cent, or one-fifth, of the total expenditure. Where that proportion was reduced the pauperism became excessive, owing to weak administration. Pauperism begets pauperism, both in the present generation and the future; and it is better every way, and more economical, to expend the rates in preventing it, than, by false economy, to encourage deception, idleness, hopeless poverty, and dependence."

The first note of the impending changes was sounded in a short speech by Mr. H. Chaplin, president of the Local Government Board, delivered in the House of Commons during the past summer, in answer to a question from the Liberal benches. Among other things, he said:

"I have been most anxious to deal with this serious question this session, but I have been unable to do so. I have prepared a new series of regulations affecting the classification of inmates in workhouses, with a view of securing separate accommodation for the aged and deserving poor."

The Chancellor of the Exchequer, finding it difficult enough to get money for the South African war, was the stumbling-block in Mr. Chaplin's way. Hence the reluctant conclusion, that "this is not a fitting moment to make further demands upon him."

This speech was sent out to every board in the country, with the intimation that, although an order would not be made as yet, the following were the regulations which the right honorable gentleman had in mind, to which the guardians were asked to give their earnest attention. Since then, inquiries have been sent out asking for definite replies as to how far the guardians were meeting the wishes thus expressed. For all persons over sixty-five years of age, of good character, special provision. is to be made. They are to live apart, in the workhouses, from all other inmates, with special day rooms in which they can take their meals, with separate cubicles for sleeping purposes, and with lockers for their own private knick-knacks. They are to have the privilege of sleeping longer and of retiring earlier or later, at their discretion, together with the

privilege of seeing friends from the outside more frequently than now. A select committee has gone so far as to recommend the provision of separate cottages for the reception of people of this class; and it is more than likely that this suggestion will be placed on the statute book this very year. All this means that the workhouse for old men or women is practically abolished, with all its inconveniences and the other deterrents beloved of a former generation and by a Tory government, too! After this, one need not be surprised to find that the circular letter of the Local Government Board has something to say on the very vexed question of outdoor relief. Though guardians had the power to give adequate relief, very few indeed availed themselves of this power, the amounts actually given being totally inadequate to keep the applicants. Many unions gave none at all, preferring to put each case to the test of entering the workhouse. It was here that the old-time guardian shone in all his glory; and if by chance he did give anything, the nimble halfcrown per week was the outside limit. This part of the work is the most difficult for the conscientious administrator; for pitfalls meet him at every step. Mr. Chaplin, however, has laid it down as a cardinal principle of the new régime that "aged deserving persons should not be urged to enter the workhouse at all" a declaration which is more than sufficient to make the past guardians of the poor turn in their graves. "Not at all" marks a complete change of front, which is more marked as we read that the Board is "afraid that too frequently such relief as is now given is not adequate in amount. It is desirous of pressing upon the guardians that such relief should, when granted, be always adequate.”

To carry out a tithe of the indoor changes proposed in the way of classification would involve enormous expense; but, while recognizing this, the Board hopes that no hesitation will be felt in bringing about the suggested improvements. Imbeciles are to be removed from the workhouses, and thus one of the horrors of indoor life will be sent to the limbo of forgotten things; the sick poor in the infirmaries are to be provided with more air space, better-lighted wards, and improved ventilation. This latter idea has been long carried out by the more enlightened boards; but that it was necessary in the last months of the nineteenth century to enforce such a rule is ample evidence of the backwardness of only too many local authorities.

Last December the authorities at Whitehall issued an order which cannot be disregarded, commanding certain changes in the diets of ordinary workhouse inmates, to take effect on March 25 of this year. Meat dinners, usually three per week, are now increased to four, not counting

the usual weekly bacon dinner; while soups are to contain at least fifty per cent more meat or other nourishing ingredients. An extra meal per day is to be allowed the "workers"; and, to make sure, a gigantic edition of a cookery book is issued, giving the most minute particulars as to the preparation of each dish, many hundreds in number, out of which a suitable dietary table is to be prepared, subject to the consent of the London authorities. This unexpected order fell like a bombshell from the Government kopjes; and each guardian asked the other whether it was not time to clear out of parochial life and leave every thing, from workhouse tea to the erection of tuberculosis hospitals, to the stepmothers at Whitehall. The order is there, however, one more nail- the longest and strongest, in my opinion-driven into the coffin of the erstwhile Poor-Law.

The care of children has been long the study of energetic philanthropists, who, recognizing the uselessness of changing the older folks, have hoped to educate the younger generation of paupers into ways of selfreliance. Cottage homes, scattered homes, and boarding out with families have all had their advocates; and, at last, after all systems have had a fair trial, a plain intimation is given that, for the future, no children must be kept within the workhouse walls nay, they must not be educated in large schools. Eton and Harrow may do for the scions of the House of Lords; but for the children of the State separate cottages, with plenty of land adjoining, containing not more than twenty inmates, under the care of a foster-mother, must be provided. The cost of these isolated homes consequent upon the breaking up of the large Poor-Law schools is simply staggering. The Poor-Law is dead, long live the new régime! But what does it all mean? What is its effect going to be upon the people? And who or what has brought about this departure from wellestablished landmarks of the century? Thereby hangs a tale!

At the general election of 1895, Mr. Chamberlain secured thousands of votes for the Unionist party by his definite promise that old-age pensions would be given by the new Unionist government. That pledge has not been fulfilled, and is not likely to be, by the present Ministry. Whether this is due to the magnitude of the problem or to the dislike of the Tory party to embark further into domestic reform, I need not now inquire; but it is evident to all interested in this matter that the new Poor-Law regulations are a practical admission that election pledges are difficult of fulfilment. It is, therefore, to the local Poor-Law Guardians that aged deserving persons must look for any amelioration of their condition. The entire cost is to fall upon the local taxpayer; or, to put it

more forcibly and more truthfully, the cost of ameliorating the lot of the aged poor is to fall on the very class from whose ranks future "deserving persons are to be drawn.

This is the very essence of Toryism; hence, the new regulations cannot be regarded as a genuine attempt to reform the Poor-Law, but rather as one more effort to stave off the settlement of those social problems which the presence of so much poverty in the midst of plenty has created. Sir Hugh Owen, late permanent secretary to the Local Government Board, stated that in 1892 there were in England and Wales 1,372,000 persons over sixty-five years of age, and that of this number no less than 401,000 were receiving relief from the parochial authorities. Deducting the well-to-do, we have the appalling fact that two out of every five over the age mentioned are dependent upon public charity.

Another fruitful, nay, the most fruitful, source of poverty is disease. At the Poor-Law Conference in Manchester, in October, 1899, which I attended as one of the representatives of Liverpool, it was stated by one prominent medical man present that the root of the evil was the bad housing of the working classes, combined with the moral and alcoholic conditions inseparable from their present surroundings. As an illustration he quoted the positive declaration of a German savant that the rate of mortality from phthisis alone was 15 per 10,000 where the annual income was over £100 per annum, but 40 where the income was less. Reform, or rather, destroy, the Poor-Law, put a premium on poverty, but by no manner of means attempt to grapple with the evils which cause poverty, notably the evils just referred to.

There is not a member of the middle classes in England at this moment who can afford to give his children the splendid accommodation provided in our cottage homes for pauper children. They are a standing temptation to the neglectful parent to go on neglecting. A benevolent state will step in and relieve him of his parental duties at the cost of the local taxpayer, who does try to pay his way and fulfil his natural obligations. I do not object to this except in so far as it goes to show that the relaxing of the healthy restrictions of the old Poor-Law by a reactionary government is putting a premium on thriftlessness, if not idleness.

Owing to the operations of the Employers' Liability Acts, men on the shady side of forty cannot get work, especially if the hair shows signs of turning gray. It is a melancholy sight to see in our workhouses so many men willing and able to do some work, but prevented by conditions not of their making. To make the workhouse comfortable for such inmates seems at first sight humane; but if we consider the ques