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Elberfeld, to most people,
is suggestive of Turkey-red; and, no doubt, Turkey-red has everything to
do with it. It was a notable place, however, before that excellent dye
spread its reputation; and is likely to remain so whether the dye holds or
not. For the beauty of its neighbourhood and its picturesque contrasts
alone, it is worth halting at longer than between two trains. It lies in a
charming valley of the Berg; and, fifty years ago, before the factory
time, could boast one of the brightest and clearest of streams in the
merry little Wupper. Pleasant heights, shaded with masses of wood, cluster
round it. Away beyond them, the river winds between the heights, and below
the woods, and laving the greenest meadows. Tempting openings stretch up
into the hills; and there are gloomy, grotesque-looking ravines, with
curious caves scooped in their sides— caves with real legends, not of the
Rhine stamp, but akin to those that linger by the heather braes of
Scotland, of Christian men in hiding, and sore peril of life, and of grand
hymns they made, that echo through all Germany to this day. Moreover,
about the beginning of the century many eyes were turned hopefully to the
quiet church, where the elder Krummacher declared the gospel with a fresh,
faithful simplicity, that startled the careless Christian world; and many
hearts were praying that the light God had kindled there might not be put
out; and strangers came into the vale to hear the famous preacher, and
carry with them the joy of his good tidings. And ever since, through the
changes of its population and character, the vale has maintained its
faith, and is among the foremost places on the Continent for the spread
and power of the kingdom of God. It was in Elberfeld that the first German
missionary society was formed, and that good old Hermann Peltzer, at
threescore and six, set himself hopefully to learn English, that he might
publish translations of the tidings from English missionaries. And at the
next turn of the river there is Barmen, with its mission-houses and
seminary, and famous mission-paper, and forty-one missionaries—the
greatest missionary organisation of Germany; and from which, at present,
two daring men are going out into the more hidden heart of Africa, to
teach the newly discovered populations there. But, undeniably, the leading
interest is Turkey-red; and the little Wupper, that threw out its merry
invitation to all the world, has been taken somewhat roughly at its word,
and comes, coppery and hot and odorous, out of the dyeing-vats, and can no
longer hear its own voice for the roar of the great factories along its
banks. The town is like a hasty-grown boy, that shows awkwardly in lately
proper but now ill-fitting clothes. A few handsome streets cleave long
rows of narrow passages, through which the current of business persists in
flowing. Odd little lanes wind over the hills and through the hollows, and
cross and recross into an extraordinary network, where the stranger is
left as in a labyrinth till some kindly opening reveals an escape. He
emerges with a confused cricking of shuttles in his ear, and a very
distinct sense of small children and a dense population. The houses, with
their wooden framework, running in fantastic pattern over the whitewash,
are bewildering enough; doubly so, one somehow feels, when weavers are
plying their calling in every room; but they look comfortable, and the
little fry are healthy and active, and there is a good-tempered, quiet
civility everywhere, that is not often met in our narrow lanes at home.
Elberfeld, in fact, is now a wealthy, bustling manufacturing city, that
has multiplied its population often since 1800; and Turkey-red has been at
the bottom of all this, and also of that state of things which required
the vigorous interposition of the author of '' Civic Economy of Large
Towns."
For with wealth there came
poverty, and flung its shadow along the alleys, and below the rich men's
houses, and out upon the broad sunshine; and wide as the city reached, and
faster it grew, so wide and fast did the shadow. The town is always
absorbing the country - its nerve and freshness—its incapacity and need as
well. And as weeds thrive best on unfilled lands, so does poverty reach
its rankest growth in the neglected haunts of city crowds. Manufacturing
cities, besides, have a special poverty of their own. Plenty of work draws
plenty of hands; but orders may stop with scarce a warning, and dull times
set in, and the factory works at half-hours or at half-power, and then the
strain begins, and there is pawning and debt, and by the time trade
revives there are some who are too far down to rise. As often as this is
repeated, some heads sink with the struggle, and cry below the smooth
surface of the town's life. The poor have no monopoly of high-class
virtues; they are no more likely than the rich to be thrifty, and prudent,
and patient, and made of the firm, stern stuff of martyrs. When the hard
daybreaks, it is not many who are ready for it. It is very painful, no
doubt it is very blameable; but before casting stones at them, it may be
well at least to spend a thought or two upon one's own thrift, and
prudence, and preparation for reverse, and to ask whether one has ever
taught his neighbours to do better, or has reflected much upon the matter
until he was told of a bare, fireless room, and naked children, and then
began to mutter something about "their own fault," and "the poor-house."
Elberfeld, with its rows of
workshops, and factory roar, has, in addition to its other poor, its poor
of this stamp—poor first by being thrown out of work and into beggary, and
poor by being sprung from these, brought up among the influences and woful
habits of poverty. Charitable, as great cities are after their fashion, it
was forward to relieve them. Alms were freely given; poor-rates were
freely paid. It prospered, spread up and down the Wupper, and over the
country walks of the old gray-headed villagers, added field to field and
trade to trade, and still the poor kept even pace, and the poor-rates were
freely paid. At length murmurs rose. In 1847, 1848, 1849, its pauperism
cost the city L. 17,000 per annum: its population was not 50,000, and the
rate was up to 47s. a-head. The burden was pressing beyond endurance.
Every year it was heavier, and the ratio of pauper increase was far beyond
that of population. The poor-rate struck at the beginning of the year
never covered the necessity; supplementary rates became the rule. Yet high
as the tax was pitched, it proved futile. The more this hungry pauperism
was fed, the more ravenous it turned; like a diseased stomach, it created
its own appetite; and the citizens felt alarmed lest all their prosperous
earnings should be drawn into its yawning mouth. Was trade declining? On
the contrary, it was steadily progressing, money was more abundant, new
streets were rising, strangers remarked on the rapidity of the
improvements. Were the funds mismanaged? That was out of the question; the
greatest sufferers were on the management, the system was well worked, the
officers were rigid and careful; Was the system at fault? There were some
who made bold to say it was wrong and dangerous from the foundation.
At the beginning of this
century, when Krummacher was preaching and Peltzer was puzzling over his
English, Elberfeld was a simple country town. The few poor were supported
by voluntary contributions dispensed through ecclesiastical boards. Then,
as time rolled on, beggars multiplied. They were like a plague in the
streets and at the doors.
"To see the townsfolk suffer
so
From vermin, was a pity."
And the townsfolk grew
uneasy, and whether or no, like the rat-bitten population of Hamelin, they
tame to the town-hall with a
"Rouse up, sirs! give your
brains a racking,
To find the remedy we 're lacking,
Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!
At which the mayor and corporation
Quakes with a mighty consternation"—
we are ignorant; but the
corporation felt an emergency, and, for want of a "pied piper," determined
to form a civic aid to help the ecclesiastical: the town collected, and
the Church dispensed. Then there came disputes, debt, and the year 1816.
It was a year of extraordinary distress, dearness, and idleness; and the
ecclesiastical boards, though of three confessions, proposed to their
great credit to take entire charge of the poor. After twelve months'
experiment the scheme broke down, and a plan of civic machinery was
introduced; poor-rates were levied, poor-law guardians appointed,
inspectors, relieving officers, and all the other officers set in motion,
and its machinery went, as machinists say, sweetly. The change was going
on elsewhere, over entire Germany. The Church, which embodies in itself
the fittest poor-law, was careless, and proved incapable. It was slowly
thrust aside, tolerated perhaps with a seat at the new boards, while the
civic powers took the matter into their own hands, until now there is a
general approximation to our own poor-laws and our own powerless
extravagance. It was this civic system which some in Elberfeld began to
whisper was in fault. They pointed to the amazing increase of taxes, and
to the yet more amazing increase of pauperism: they shewed that the system
worked admirably as a system, but that if it went on, bankruptcy hung over
no very distant future. Gradually the corporation shared their opinion;
proposals which came to nothing were made to the ecclesiastical bodies;
and with this effort the people resigned themselves to an inevitable fate.
It was then that among one or two clear-sighted citizens such a plan was
matured, which, carried into the happiest effect, has made Elberfeld
famous in the civic economy of the Continent, and a hopeful lesson for our
civic economy at home.
Those who have read the
"Memoirs of Dr Chalmers"—and who has not?—will remember that most
brilliant and most sad chapter which records the success and failure at St
John's. In this, as in so much else, far beyond his time, and following
the instincts of a true and great heart that was sanctified by the Spirit
of God and inhabited by His wisdom, Dr Chalmers determined to establish
his principles in the face of every resistance and scorn. In a parish of
10,000 he found an annual poor-tax of L. 1400. Four years after his
induction he could say that the expenditure was L.190, and the pauperism
vastly less. When eighteen years had passed, the average expenditure was
found to have been L.30 to every 1000 people against L.140 to every 1000
people when he began. There the matter dropped, but the truth and the
protest remain the same, and whoever has the confidence and manliness to
try will find the result unchanged still. People were familiar once with
the mode by which he wrought, but it has so long slipped away into the
timid region of the impracticable, that few can talk about it now. It
would be out of place to say more of it here, than that its chief points
were the thorough personal visitation of the parish by the deacons, the
proper selection and conduct of these deacons, the administration of help
through them instead of through parish officials. How far his writings on
this favourite subject may have influenced Mr Von der Heydt, Mr Lischke,
and others in Germany, it is not very pertinent to inquire. Their
reputation in that country has been considerable, the course of the Inner
Mission has of late directed more attention to them, and it is probable
enough that besides the indirect influence of well-known opinions upon the
general intelligence of society, Mr Lischke may owe much to the personal
study of these writings. This, however, is certain and gratifying, that
the parochial system of St John's has been reproduced in Elberfeld on a
large scale, embracing the entire population; and that in those principles
of poor relief for which Dr Chalmers contended, the only extrication has
been found from the embarrassments which threatened that city.
Those who sought a new
system sought it on an entirely new basis. They felt that a human heart
and hand must be substituted for a board. The poor came into no real
contact with the rich; they stood at a cold, legal distance. The rich came
into as little contact with them, knew them only as people to whom the
board gave alms. There was no attempt to check poverty, none to help the
poor up. As many as were in bona fide need received a certain relief, and
that was all. Alms were the easiest service; and that discharged, through
the poor-rate and the workhouse, people took credit for loving their
neighbours as themselves. And not in Elberfeld alone. God's teaching,
Christ's voice through 1800 years, and this is the issue of it in our
illuminated nineteenth century! And we will pay taxes fourfold rather than
take the poor man by the hand, or feel the chill of his wan face upon our
comfort, or remember that with the soil upon his life he is our brother,
and we must answer for his blood. We hurry him to the great poor-house,
and boast that we have done our duty by society, and feel it ought to
thank us. Good-natured, pitiful, kind men will do it; they are not, as the
poor may think, passive and bloodless as the stones: it is habit and
theory, and the maxims of the world, that freeze them. Send him to the
poor-house; but will you not first look into that miserable room where he
is starving? Pay the highest rate; but will you not first consider the
poor? It is not far: a few steps down the next street, a little climbing
up the dark stairs. It was where the Lord went, and He said, "Follow Me."
This was what these men in Elberfeld thought, that it is selfishness to
stow poverty in an almshouse, and never touch it with a little finger,
though it has father and children, and heart and brain, as well as we ;
that poverty will never come to an end that way; and that we are in the
world not so much to carry out the poor-laws as to love our brother. This
was the foundation on which their plan rose. The official relation to the
poor must cease, and give place to the personal; aid must be granted not
by statute but by men whom the poor feel to care for them. Attain this,
they said, and the rest will spring from it; better feeling, fewer poor,
lighter taxes, less imposture, steady care.
The system proposed and at
present in operation is briefly this. The town, with a population of
53,000, is divided into 252 districts, 1 to about every 210 people. A
visitor is appointed over each district. The visitors offer themselves for
three years; but, though they can then retire, by far the greater number
have preferred remaining, and only those have withdrawn who were unable to
continue. They are of all grades in society, in office and out of office,
head-masters of the gymnasiums and elementary teachers, great merchants
and small, persons of property and young men in warehouses, manufacturers
and journeymen weavers, artisans and bankers. They may be of any
denomination; an important matter in Elberfeld, which can boast almost
every sect. They are only asked if they will faithfully discharge their
duties. These are, to visit fortnightly each of the poor in the district
in their houses (the number of families allotted to one is not allowed to
exceed four); to inquire into their circumstances, to foster
self-reliance, to counsel and rebuke them, to reconstruct the ruined
family life, to preserve and develop family and neighbourly relations, by
every means to prevent dependence on charity, where help is imperative to
give no more than is absolutely necessary, where work is wanted to provide
it, to detect imposition, and reclaim the outcast. The districts are
organised into eighteen circuits. Every fortnight, of a Wednesday the
visitors of each circuit meet under the presidency of a superintendent. At
this meeting they report upon the poor, and prefer their requests for
help. In doubtful cases a majority of votes determines, and in no case can
relief be granted for longer than fourteen days; if still necessary, the
application must be renewed. The superintendent must visit the poor of the
district quarterly, as well as accompany the visitor in any circumstances
of peculiar emergency. They appear also at the sittings of the Poor Law
Board, which are held on alternate Wednesdays with the circuit meetings,
report there upon the condition of their pauperism, and receive the
needful supplies in money and kind for the circuit meeting following: they
are, in fact, the organs of the board. This board is composed of men of
high standing, who, like the rest, voluntarily offered their services. Its
position is that of a committee of the Common Council. It fixes the
assessment for the year, manages the outlay, superintends both the indoor
and outdoor relief, investigates the condition and causes of the
pauperism, and reconsiders or, if necessary, changes the decisions of the
circuit meetings. Its president is the Mayor, if we may so translate the
Ober-Burgermeister. And any one who wishes fuller information on the
constitution or working of the poor-law will find it clearly stated in the
admirable paper read before the Kirchentag of Hamburg in 1858, by
Ober-Burgermeister Lischke.
Such is the scheme,
somewhat complex perhaps, but working out its principles with a thorough
persistency and order. The simple sense of a deep human fellowship is at
the bottom of it, of the power of human sympathy and contact, of human
duties that are owed, not through corporations, but from man to man. This
is wrought into every detail, penetrates and sustains the whole. To have a
personal acquaintance with the poor, there must be frequent visiting; to
have a personal influence, the visit must be the prompting of neighbourly
feeling. The one requires that the visitors be men with their own calling
in life; the other, that they bear the largest possible proportion to the
population. If the visitor have more families on his list than he can
attend to with ease, he will attend to none ; if he is appointed to visit
as his calling, his visits become hopelessly official. The connexion
established between the impulse of a private pity and the restraint of a
public grant is also very happy; the one stirs the heart, the other
controls it by the judgment; while the limit of the grant-in-aid to
fourteen days is a continual and most wholesome check upon an imprudent
benevolence. Each, moreover, has a personal interest in removing
pauperism, and those who are best acquainted with it are made the
instruments of relieving it.
It was in 1851 that the
plan, then well considered, was laid before the corporation. It was
received with a storm of opposition, and not without ridicule. A
well-meant impracticable theory! Who would volunteer to work like that? If
one or two were ready, who would dream of 252? It was strangely Utopian;
the council might pass on to business. Reduce the visitors, suggested one
member at length; reduce the visitors, and it may have a chance. Reduce
the visitors, was the reply, and it is at an end. Perseverance won some
little concessions: permission was given for an experiment; it was allowed
on sufferance; of course, it was said, the men will never be found. Nearly
300 offered. Then sage people shook their heads, and said it would not
last a month. The poor regarded it with suspicion. It went on without
pause or hitch, and is now in its eighth year; and with what result can be
very briefly stated. In 1852, the town was in embarrassment, pauperism was
advancing with the hugest strides, the poor-rates were enormous, the
income fell far below the expenditure, the number of poor was upwards of
4000, or one in twelve. In 1857, the town breathed freely, the poor-rates
were trifling, the reduced assessment much more than covered the need,
street-begging had disappeared, there were no cases of neglect, the
genuine poor received large help, and the number of poor had fallen to
1400, or one in thirty-eight, and was still falling. In 1858, there were
only 151 families. Nor have the circumstances been favourable to this
result. There was a continuance of hard years, when prices were high and
work was slack. There was misapprehension, and the difficulty of an
unfamiliar project. The accruing poverty of half a century had to be
contended with. When these things are reckoned, it will be found that the
figures are under a true estimate of the gain. Nor has it been
impracticable to maintain the efficient staff. Last year the number of
applicants for visitorships far exceeded 252; instead of requesting
persons to act, the board have always been in a position to select. At
first, it was almost at the peril of the visitors' lives that they went
among the poor; now, they bring a joy into every household. And the
impulse has reacted upon them. They have learned how it is more blessed to
give than to receive, they have an unselfish doing of good daily asserting
itself against the gravitating force of business and careful worldliness,
new lights have broken upon many, new sympathies been stirred in them, the
harsh repulse of class is disappearing, there is a mutual knowledge and
reliance of the rich and the poor.
The story is uncommon and
new. It is a pleasant, hopeful thought that a spinning, trading,
Turkey-red-dyeing, money-getting city like Elberfeld can produce 252 men
who are unselfish enough to follow an unselfish purpose, manly enough to
reach a warm hand to those whom poverty has thrust up a reeking alley,
with time enough to say a cheery word to the sick woman in the garret, or
to look out work for the poor fellow hiding in the cellar. It is not the
tendency of our time; it is not a story that we can easily believe. It is
likely to be met with an incredulous stare. [A well-known banker, the
chief promoter of the system, mentioned to the writer last year, that upon
relating it a short time before to a member of our House of Lords, his
travelling companion in the railway, he was told, "If I had not heard it
from the lips of a living man, I should not have believed it."]
Hamburg, Berlin, the great
towns, are incredulous. Yet there is the same peril threatening, the same
burdens weighing them down. In 1849, in the forty towns of Prussia with
more than 10,000 inhabitants, and a total population of 1,730,833, there
was spent in in and out-door relief £416,381. The number of those
supported was 311,963, or two to every eleven of the population; and the
poor-rate was 4s. 10d. per head, or for a town of 100,000, £24,000. Do not
the very same facts meet us at home? The poor-law expenditure in Glasgow
is upwards of £100,000, or above £250 to every 1000 people. Between August
1840 and May 1849, its population increased by twenty per cent., and the
cost of its pauperism by 430 per cent. Are other towns any better? Is it
not a. universal evil, to which only habit has reconciled us, while remedy
looks so unlikely that the few who dread the future are unwilling to alarm
the present? The marvellous elasticity of our commerce, the growing wealth
of our traders, may make the evil more distant, perhaps also more
gigantic. Is it not worth while to try some effort, not to stave off
misfortune, but to avert it? Is not Dr Chalmers' plan worth being tested
once again? Elberfeld has shewn, at least, that it is possible. Are men
less ready to come forward here than there? Are they less practical, less
willing, less interested? Have we the poor less upon our hearts? Or,
rather, are not the workers ready, if there were only the guiding hand to
shape the work? We may find fault with the Elberfeld organisation, we may
say it is not adapted to our wants; the principle remains intact; if it
has been wrought into use and blessing there, it is hard to see why it
could not be wrought into as much use and blessing here. It may be that
this hasty sketch of what is doing in Germany will lead some one to think
of what may be done in England, that the new birth and glory of a
half-forgotten truth will give some one boldness to begin, let it be in
ever so narrow a sphere, what was never really a failure at St John's. |
