Darkest England may be described as consisting broadly of three circles,one within the other.The outer and widest circle is inhabited by the starving and the homeless,but honest,Poor.
The second by those who live by Vice;and the third and innermost region at the centre is peopled by those who exist by Crime.The whole of the three circles is sodden with Drink.Darkest England has many more public-houses than the Forest of the Aruwimi has rivers,of which Mr.Stanley sometimes had to cross three in half-an-hour.
The borders of this great lost land are not sharply defined.They are continually expanding or contracting.Whenever there is a period of depression in trade,they stretch;when prosperity returns,they contract.So far as individuals are concerned,there are none among the hundreds of thousands who live upon the outskirts of the dark forest who can truly say that they or their children are secure from being hopelessly entangled in its labyrinth.The death of the bread-winner,a long illness,a failure in the City,or any one of a thousand other causes which might be named,will bring within the first circle those who at present imagine themselves free from all danger of actual want.The death-rate in Darkest England is high.Death is the great gaol-deliverer of the captives.But the dead are hardly in the grave before their places are taken by others.Some escape,but the majority,their health sapped by their surroundings,become weaker and weaker,until at last they fall by the way,perishing without hope at the very doors of the palatial mansions which,maybe,some of them helped to build.
Some seven years ago a great outcry was made concerning the Housing of the Poor.Much was said,and rightly said--it could not be said too strongly--concerning the disease-breeding,manhood-destroying character of many of the tenements in which the poor herd in our large cities.But there is a depth below that of the dweller in the slums.
It is that of the dweller in the street,who has not even a lair in the slums which he can call his own.The houseless Out-of-Work is in one respect at least like Him of whom it was said,"Foxes have holes,and birds of the air have nests,but the Son of Man hath not where to lay His head."The existence of these unfortunates was somewhat rudely forced upon the attention of Society in 1887,when Trafalgar Square became the camping ground of the Homeless Outcasts of London.Our Shelters have done something,but not enough,to provide for the outcasts,who this night and every night are walking about the streets,not knowing where they can find a spot on which to rest their weary frames.
Here is the return of one of my Officers who was told off this summer to report upon the actual condition of the Homeless who have no roof to shelter them in all London:--There are still a large number of Londoners and a considerable percentage of wanderers from the country in search of work,who find themselves at nightfall destitute.These now betake themselves to the seats under the plane trees on the Embankment.Formerly they endeavoured to occupy all the seats,but the lynx-eyed Metropolitan Police declined to allow any such proceedings,and the dossers,knowing the invariable kindness of the City Police,made tracks for that portion of the Embankment which,lying east of the Temple,comes under the control of the Civic Fathers.Here,between the Temple and Blackfriars,I found the poor wretches by the score;almost every seat contained its full complement of six--some men,some women--all reclining in various postures and nearly all fast asleep.Just as Big Ben strikes two,the moon,flashing across the Thames and lighting up the stone work of the Embankment,brings into relief a pitiable spectacle.Here on the stone abutments,which afford a slight protection from the biting wind,are scores of men lying side by side,huddled together for warmth,and,of course,without any other covering than their ordinary clothing,which is scanty enough at the best.Some have laid down a few pieces of waste paper,by way of taking the chill off the stones,but the majority are too tired,even for that,and the nightly toilet of most consists of first removing the hat,swathing the head in whatever old rag may be doing duty as a handkerchief,and then replacing the hat.
The intelligent-looking elderly man,who was just fixing himself up on a seat,informed me that he frequently made that his night's abode.
"You see,"quoth he,"there's nowhere else so comfortable.I was here last night,and Monday and Tuesday as well,that's four nights this week.I had no money for lodgings,couldn't earn any,try as I might.
