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the factory, from appliances for ventilation and for safety in mines, &c. It is the same here with
the housing of the miners. Dr. Simon, medical officer of the Privy Council, in his official Report
says:
“In apology for the wretched household accommodation ... it is alleged that
miners are commonly worked on lease; that the duration of the lessee’s interest
(which in collieries is commonly for 21 years), is not so long that he should deem
it worth his while to create good accommodation for his labourers, and for the
tradespeople and others whom the work attracts; that even if he were disposed to
act liberally in the matter, this disposition would commonly be defeated by his
landlord’s tendency to fix on him, as ground-rent, an exorbitant additional charge
for the privilege of having on the surface of the ground the decent and
comfortable village which the labourers of the subterranean property ought to
inhabit, and that prohibitory price (if not actual prohibition) equally excludes
others who might desire to build. It would be foreign to the purpose of this report
to enter upon any discussion of the merits of the above apology. Nor here is it
even needful to consider where it would be that, if decent accommodation were
provided, the cost ... would eventually fall – whether on landlord, or lessee, or
labourer, or public. But in presence of such shameful facts as are vouched for in
the annexed reports [those of Dr. Hunter, Dr. Stevens, &c.] a remedy may well be
claimed.... Claims of landlordship are being so used as to do great public wrong.
The landlord in his capacity of mine-owner invites an industrial colony to labour
on his estate, and then in his capacity of surface-owner makes it impossible that
the labourers whom he collects, should find proper lodging where they must live.
The lessee [the capitalist exploiter] meanwhile has no pecuniary motive for
resisting that division of the bargain; well knowing that if its latter conditions be
exorbitant, the consequences fall, not on him, that his labourers on whom they fall
have not education enough to know the value of their sanitary rights, that neither
obscenest lodging nor foulest drinking water will be appreciable inducements
towards a ‘strike.’”
73
D. Effect of Crises on the Best Paid Part of the working
class
Before I turn to the regular agricultural labourers, I may be allowed to show, by one
example, how industrial revulsions affect even the best-paid, the aristocracy, of the
working class. It will be remembered that the year 1857 brought one of the great crises
with which the industrial cycle periodically ends. The next termination of the cycle was
due in 1866. Already discounted in the regular factory districts by the cotton famine,
which threw much capital from its wonted sphere into the great centres of the money-
market, the crisis assumed, at this time, an especially financial character. Its outbreak in
1866 was signalised by the failure of a gigantic London Bank, immediately followed by
the collapse of countless swindling companies. One of the great London branches of
industry involved in the catastrophe was iron shipbuilding. The magnates of this trade
had not only over-produced beyond all measure during the overtrading time, but they
had, besides, engaged in enormous contracts on the speculation that credit would be
forthcoming to an equivalent extent. Now, a terrible reaction set in, that even at this hour
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(the end of March, 1867) continues in this and other London industries.
74
To show the
condition of the labourers, I quote the following from the circumstantial report of a
correspondent of the Morning Star, who, at the end of 1866, and beginning of 1867,
visited the chief centres of distress:
“In the East End districts of Poplar, Millwall, Greenwich, Deptford, Limehouse
and Canning Town, at least 15,000 workmen and their families were in a state of
utter destitution, and 3,000 skilled mechanics were breaking stones in the
workhouse yard (after distress of over half a year’s duration).... I had great
difficulty in reaching the workhouse door, for a hungry crowd besieged it.... They
were waiting for their tickets, but the time had not yet arrived for the distribution.
The yard was a great square place with an open shed running all round it, and
several large heaps of snow covered the paving-stones in the middle. In the
middle, also, were little wicker-fenced spaces, like sheep pens, where in finer
weather the men worked; but on the day of my visit the pens were so snowed up
that nobody could sit in them. Men were busy, however, in the open shed breaking
paving-stones into macadam. Each man had a big paving-stone for a seat, and he
chipped away at the rime-covered granite with a big hammer until he had broken
up, and think! five bushels of it, and then he had done his day’s work, and got his
day’s pay – threepence and an allowance of food. In another part of the yard was a
rickety little wooden house, and when we opened the door of it, we found it filled
with men who were huddled together shoulder to shoulder for the warmth of one
another’s bodies and breath. They were picking oakum and disputing the while as
to which could work the longest on a given quantity of food – for endurance was
the point of honour. Seven thousand ... in this one workhouse ... were recipients of
relief ... many hundreds of them ... it appeared, were, six or eight months ago,
earning the highest wages paid to artisans.... Their number would be more than
doubled by the count of those who, having exhausted all their savings, still refuse
to apply to the parish, because they have a little left to pawn. Leaving the
workhouse, I took a walk through the streets, mostly of little one-storey houses,
that abound in the neighbourhood of Poplar. My guide was a member of the
Committee of the Unemployed.... My first call was on an ironworker who had
been seven and twenty weeks out of employment. I found the man with his family
sitting in a little back room. The room was not bare of furniture, and there was a
fire in it. This was necessary to keep the naked feet of the young children from
getting frost bitten, for it was a bitterly cold day. On a tray in front of the fire lay a
quantity of oakum, which the wife and children were picking in return for their
allowance from the parish. The man worked in the stone yard of the workhouse
for a certain ration of food, and threepence per day. He had now come home to
dinner quite hungry, as he told us with a melancholy smile, and his dinner
consisted of a couple of slices of bread and dripping, and a cup of milkless tea....
The next door at which we knocked was opened by a middle-aged woman, who,
without saying a word, led us into a little back parlour, in which sat all her family,
silent and fixedly staring at a rapidly dying fire. Such desolation, such
hopelessness was about these people and their little room, as I should not care to
witness again. ‘Nothing have they done, sir,’ said the woman, pointing to her
boys, ‘for six and twenty weeks; and all our money gone – all the twenty pounds