SECTION 2.—THE TRAVELLING HOSPITAL

SECTION 2.—THE TRAVELLING HOSPITAL.

Of course, there is only one real remedy for this state of things, and that is to take the people away from the wretched hovels in which they sicken, suffer, and die, with less comfort and consideration than the cattle in the stalls and styes of many a country Squire. And this is certainly our ultimate ambition, but for the present distress something might be done on the lines of district nursing, which is only in very imperfect operation.

I have been thinking that if a little Van, drawn by a pony, could be fitted up with what is ordinarily required by the sick and dying, and trot round amongst these abodes of desolation, with a couple of nurses trained for the business, it might be of immense service, without being very costly. They could have a few simple instruments, so as to draw a tooth or lance an abscess, and what was absolutely requisite for simple surgical operations. A little oil-stove for hot water to prepare a poultice, or a hot foment, or a soap wash, and a number of other necessaries for nursing, could be carried with ease.

The need for this will only be appreciated by those who know how utterly bereft of all the comforts and conveniences for attending to the smallest matters in sickness which prevails in these abodes of wretchedness. It may be suggested, why don't the people when they are ill go to the hospital? To which we simply reply that they won't. They cling to their own bits of rooms and to the companionship of the members of their own families, brutal as they often are, and would rather stay and suffer, and die in the midst of all the filth and squalor that surrounds them in their own dens, than go to the big house, which, to them, looks very like a prison.

The sufferings of the wretched occupants of the Slums that we have been describing, when sick and unable to help themselves, makes the organisation of some system of nursing them in their own homes a Christian duty. Here are a handful of cases, gleaned almost at random from the reports of our Slum Sisters, which will show the value of the agency above described: —

Many of those who are sick have often only one room, and often several children. The Officers come across many cases where, with no one to look after them, they have to lie for hours without food or nourishment of any kind. Sometimes the neighbours will take them in a cup of tea. It is really a mystery how they live.

A poor woman in Drury Lane was paralyzed. She had no one to attend to her; she lay on the floor, on a stuffed sack, and an old piece of cloth to cover her. Although it was winter, she very seldom had any fire. She had no garments to wear, and but very little to eat.

Another poor woman, who was very ill, was allowed a little money by her daughter to pay her rent and get her food; but very frequently she had not the strength to light a fire or to get herself food. She was parted from her husband because of his cruelty. Often she lay for hours without a soul to visit or help her.

Adjutant McClellan found a man lying on a straw mattress in a very bad condition. The room was filthy; the smell made the Officer feel ill. The man had been lying for days without having anything done for him. A cup of water was by his side. The Officers vomited from the terrible smells of this place. Frequently sick people are found who need the continual application of hot poultices, but who are left with a cold one for hours.

In Marylebone the Officers visited a poor old woman who was very ill. She lived in an underground back kitchen, with hardly a ray of light and never a ray of sunshine. Her bed was made up on some egg boxes. She had no one to look after her, except a drunken daughter, who very often, when drunk, used to knock the poor old woman about very badly. The Officers frequently found that she had not eaten any food up to twelve o'clock, not even a cup of tea to drink. The only furniture in the room was a small table, an old fender, and a box. The vermin seemed to be innumerable.

A poor woman was taken very ill, but, having a small family, she felt she must get up and wash them. While she was washing the baby she fell down and was unable to move. Fortunately a neighbour came in soon after to ask some question, and saw her lying there. She at once ran and fetched another neighbour. Thinking the poor woman was dead, they got her into bed and sent for a doctor. He said she was in consumption and required quiet and nourishment. This the poor woman could not get, on account of her children. She got up a few hours afterwards. As she was going downstairs she fell down again. The neighbour picked her up and put her back to bed, where for a long time she lay thoroughly prostrated. The Officers took her case in hand, fed, and nursed her, cleaned her room and generally looked after her.

In another dark slum the Officers found a poor old woman in an underground back kitchen. She was suffering with some complaint. When they knocked at the door she was terrified for fear it was the landlord. The room was in a most filthy condition, never having been cleaned. She had a penny paraffin lamp which filled the room with smoke. The old woman was at times totally unable to do anything for herself. The Officers looked after her.

Our Prisons ought to be reforming institutions, which should turn men out better than when they entered their doors. As a matter of fact they are often quite the reverse. There are few persons in this world more to be pitied than the poor fellow who has served his first term of imprisonment or finds himself outside the gaol doors without a character, and often without a friend in the world. Here, again, the process of centralization, gone on apace of late years, however desirable it maybe in the interests of administration, tells with disastrous effects on the poor wretches who are its victims.

In the old times, when a man was sent to prison, the gaol stood within a stone's throw of his home. When he came out he was at any rate close to his old friends and relations, who would take him in and give him a helping hand to start once more a new life. But what has happened owing to the desire of the Government to do away with as many local gaols as possible? The prisoners, when convicted, are sent long distances by rail to the central prisons, and on coming out find themselves cursed with the brand of the gaol bird, so far from home, character gone, and with no one to fall back upon for counsel, or to give them a helping hand. No wonder it is reported that vagrancy has much increased in some large towns on account of discharged prisoners taking to begging, having no other resource.

In the competition for work no employer is likely to take a man who is fresh from gaol; nor are mistresses likely to engage a servant whose last character was her discharge from one of Her Majesty's prisons. It is incredible how much mischief is often done by well-meaning persons, who, in struggling towards the attainment of an excellent end —such, for instance, as that of economy and efficiency in prison administration—forget entirely the bearing which their reforms may have upon the prisoners themselves.

The Salvation Army has at least one great qualification for dealing with this question I believe I am in the proud position of being at the head of the only religious body which has always some of its members in gaol for conscience' sake. We are also one of the few religious bodies which can boast that many of those who are in our ranks have gone through terms of penal servitude. We, therefore, know the prison at both ends. Some men go to gaol because they are better than their neighbours, most men because they are worse. Martyrs, patriots, reformers of all kinds belong to the first category. No great cause has ever achieved a triumph before it has furnished a certain quota to the prison population. The repeal of an unjust law is seldom carried until a certain number of those who are labouring for the reform have experienced in their own persons the hardships of fine and imprisonment. Christianity itself would never have triumphed over the Paganism of ancient Rome had the early Christians not been enabled to testify from the dungeon and the arena as to the sincerity and serenity of soul with which they could confront their persecutors, and from that time down to the successful struggles of our people for the right of public meeting at Whitchurch and elsewhere, the Christian religion and the liberties of men have never failed to demand their quota of martyrs for the faith.

When a man has been to prison in the best of causes he learns to look at the question of prison discipline with a much more sympathetic eye for those who are sent there, even for the worst offences, than judges and legislators who only look at the prison from the outside. "A fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind," and it is an immense advantage to us in dealing with the criminal classes that many of our best Officers have themselves been in a prison cell. Our people, thank God, have never learnt to regard a prisoner as a mere convict—A 234. He is ever a human being to them, who is to be cared for and looked after as a mother looks after her ailing child. At present there seems to be but little likelihood of any real reform in the interior of our prisons. We have therefore to wait until the men come outside, in order to see what, can be done. Our work begins when that of the prison authorities ceases. We have already had a good deal of experience in this work, both here and in Bombay, in Ceylon, in South Africa, in Australia and elsewhere, and as the nett result of our experience we proceed now to set forth the measures we intend to adopt, some of which are already in successful operation.

1. We propose the opening of Homes for this class as near as possible to the different gaols. One for men has just been taken at King's Cross, and will be occupied as soon as it can be got ready. One for women must follow immediately. Others will be required in different parts of the Metropolis, and contiguous to each of its great prisons. Connected with these Homes will be workshops in which the inmates will be regularly employed until such time as we can get them work elsewhere. For this class must also work, not only as a discipline, but as the means for their own support.

2. In order to save, as far as possible, first offenders from the contamination of prison life, and to prevent the formation of further evil companionships, and the recklessness which follows the loss of character entailed by imprisonment, we would offer, in the Police and Criminal Courts, to take such offenders under our wing as were anxious to come and willing to accept our regulations. The confidence of both magistrates and prisoners would, we think, soon be secured, the friends of the latter would be mostly on our side, and the probability, therefore, is that we should soon have a large number of cases placed under our care on what is known as "suspended sentence," to be brought up for judgment when called upon, the record of each sentence to be wiped out on report being favourable of their conduct in the Salvation Army Home.

3. We should seek access to the prisons in order to gain such acquaintance with the prisoners as would enable us the more effectually to benefit them on their discharge. This privilege, we think, would be accorded us by the prison authorities when they became acquainted with the nature of our work and the remarkable results which followed it. The right of entry into the gaols has already been conceded to our people in Australia, where they have free access to, and communion with, the inmates while under going their sentences. Prisoners are recommended to come to us by the gaol authorities, who also forward to our people information of the date and hour when they leave, in order that they may be met on their release,

4. We propose to meet the criminals at the prison gates with the offer of immediate admission to our Homes. The general rule is for them to be met by their friends or old associates, who ordinarily belong to the same class. Any way, it would be an exception to the rule were they not all alike believers in the comforting and cheering power of the intoxicating cup. Hence the public-house is invariably adjourned to, where plans for further crime are often decided upon straight away, resulting frequently, before many weeks are past, in the return of the liberated convict to the confinement from which he has just escaped. Having been accustomed during confinement to the implicit submission of themselves to the will of another, the newly-discharged prisoner is easily influenced by whoever first gets hold of him. Now, we propose to be beforehand with these old companions by taking the gaol-bird under our wing and setting before him an open door of hope the moment he crosses the threshold of the prison, assuring him that if he is willing to work and comply with our discipline, he never need know want any more.