Chapter M: M. Jeffery (1)

EDITH NEVILLE.

CONTENTS

PAGE
INTRODUCTION. By I. G. Gibbon, D.Sc., C.B.E., Ministry of
Health 5

SELECTIONS FROM OCTAVIA HILL’S WRITINGS
I. MANAGEMENT OF HOUSES FOR THE POOR 15
II. COTTAGE PROPERTY IN LONDON 20
III. BLANK COURT 31
IV. THE INFLUENCE OF MODEL DWELLINGS UPON CHARACTER 39
V. SMALL HOUSES IN LONDON 50
VI. LETTERS TO FELLOW-WORKERS 52

OTHER PAPERS
VII. WOMEN MANAGERS—A CROWN ESTATE 72
VIII. MANAGEMENT OF MUNICIPAL HOUSES IN AMSTERDAM 78
IX. REPORT ON HOUSE PROPERTY MANAGEMENT BY A SUB-COMMITTEE OF
THE WOMEN’S SECTION OF THE GARDEN CITIES AND TOWN PLANNING
ASSOCIATION 83

House Property and its Management

I
MANAGEMENT OF HOUSES FOR THE POOR
(1899)

Thirty-four years ago, when I first began to manage houses inhabited by working people, London was in a very different state from what it is now, and it is useful and interesting to review the changes, their effects, and their bearing on the special work we are considering to-day.

(1) The standard of comfort was far lower then than now. In Marylebone, where I began work, nearly every family rented but one room; now there are hundreds of two- and three-roomed tenements. There were no cooking-ranges in the rooms; water was hardly ever carried up higher than the parlours. There were hardly any amusements open to the people; there was no underground railway, no trams, few cheap omnibuses; there were no free libraries, no Education Act, no Board schools. Wages were very decidedly lower, hours of work were longer. The bright oil-lamps did not exist. Food was not so cheap or so various. Flowers were never sold in the streets to the poor. The people stood in those days far more in need of cheer and of help.

(2) The knowledge of sanitary matters had penetrated hardly at all; gross ignorance prevailed. There were, moreover, few, if any, Convalescent Homes, no country holiday arrangements. The Building Acts took cognizance of very few of the requirements for health, and hardly any sanitary measures were enforcible—fewer were enforced. Few hospitals for infectious diseases existed. Many excellent appliances for drainage were not invented.

(3) There was not one-tenth part of the sympathy and interest in the welfare of the people which permeates all classes now.

From these and many other causes a London court in 1864 was a far more degraded and desolate place than it can be now, even in the remotest and forlornest region, and in taking charge of it one had to do a variety of things oneself, where now one finds the intelligent and willing co-operation of many other agencies.

Again, there were next to no “model” dwellings and little power of cheap locomotion, so that a court in those days was subject to little change of population; the same families clung to it, lived, married and died in it. Cheap locomotion and facilities in reading have brought the different parts of London into much closer communication.

Many of these facts made the necessity for preserving and regulating the old courts and houses far more important than is the case now. The old courts are rapidly disappearing, and numerous blocks of buildings with modern appliances are now scattered over most neighbourhoods. But in 1864 tenants were neither routed out of foul and close courts nor would they have been received into the rare and select model dwellings. Moreover, in the rough courts they were little meddled with, and could pursue in ignorance their insanitary habits further than would be possible now.

It was very natural, therefore, that my first efforts should have been directed to rough courts and the inhabitants as I found them there. Steady and gradual improvement of the people of the houses, without selection of the former or sudden reconstruction of the latter, was our first duty, and my little book on _Homes of the London Poor_ tells the history of that early work. But if there is one duty more incumbent on us than another in such efforts, it is to be quick to see where advance is possible, how higher standards can be realized, and how much old forms may be rightly superseded. With certain exceptions in regard to small old houses, our work of late years has been increasingly in new houses and with chosen tenants.

The principles, however, are the same, and there is one great fact which the changing form has only brought out more and more clearly, and that is that the conduct of houses or blocks, old or new, so as to secure health and comfort and homelike feeling, depends on management. One can see any day excellent buildings execrably managed, and one may see tumble-down old places of wretched construction both healthier and far more homelike because well managed. And I may confidently say that the distinctive feature of our work has been that of devoting our full strength to management. It will be realized at once how much more this implies than “rent collecting.” An ordinary clerk will go from door to door for rents; that is a very different matter from managing houses. We have tried, so far as possible, to enlist ladies, who would have an idea of how—by diligent attention to all business which devolves on a landlord, by wise rule with regard to all duties which a tenant should fulfil, by sympathetic and just decisions with a view to the common good—a high standard of management could be attained: repairs promptly and efficiently attended to, references carefully taken up, cleaning sedulously supervised, overcrowding put an end to, the blessing of ready-money payments enforced, accounts strictly kept, and, above all, tenants so sorted as to be helpful to one another.

II
COTTAGE PROPERTY IN LONDON
(1866)

Two years ago I first had an opportunity of carrying out the plan I had long contemplated, that of obtaining possession of houses to be let in weekly tenements to the poor. That the spiritual elevation of a large class depended to a considerable extent on sanitary reform was, I considered, proved, but I was equally certain that sanitary improvement itself depended upon educational work among grown-up people; that they must be urged to rouse themselves from the lethargy and indolent habits into which they have fallen, and freed from all that hinders them from doing so. I further believed that any lady who would help them to obtain things, the need of which they felt themselves, and would sympathize with them in their desire for such, would soon find them eager to learn her view of what was best for them; that whether this was so or not, her duty was to keep alive their own best hopes and intentions, which come at rare intervals, but fade too often for want of encouragement.

I laid the plan before Mr. Ruskin, who entered into it most warmly. He at once came forward with all the money necessary, and took the whole risk of the undertaking upon himself. He showed me, however, that it would be far more useful if it could be made to pay; that a working man ought to be able to pay for his own house; that the outlay upon it ought, therefore, to yield a fair percentage upon the capital invested. Thus empowered and directed, I purchased three houses in my own immediate neighbourhood. They were leasehold, subject to a small ground-rent. The unexpired term of the lease was for fifty-six years; this we purchased for £750. We spent £78 additional in making a large room at the back of my own house, where I could meet the tenants from time to time. The plan has now been in operation about a year and a half; the financial result is that the scheme has paid 5 per cent. interest on all the capital (it should be remembered that 5 per cent. interest in England on house property is equivalent to at least 8 per cent. in the United States), has repaid £48 of the capital; sets of two rooms have been let for little more than the rent of one, the houses have been kept in repair, all expenses have been met for taxes, ground-rent and insurance. In this case there is no expense for collecting rents, as I do it myself, finding it most important work; but in all the estimates I put aside the usual percentage for it, in case hereafter I may require help, and also to prove practically that it can be afforded in other cases. It should be observed that well-built houses were chosen, but they were in a dreadful state of dirt and neglect. The repairs required were mainly of a superficial and slight character; slight in regard to expense—vital as to health and comfort. The place swarmed with vermin; the papers, black with dirt, hung in long strips from the walls; the drains were stopped, the water supply out of order. All these things were put in order, but no new appliances of any kind were added, as we had determined that our tenants should wait for these until they had proved themselves capable of taking care of them. A regular sum is set aside for repairs, and this is equally divided between the three houses; if any of it remains, after breakage and damage have been repaired, at the end of the quarter, each tenant decides in turn in what way the surplus shall be spent, so as to add to the comfort of the house. This plan has worked admirably; the loss from carelessness has decreased to an amazing extent, and the lodgers prize the little comforts which they have waited for, and seem in a measure to have earned by their care, much more than those bought with more lavish expenditure. The bad debts during the whole time the plan has been in operation have only amounted to £2 11s. 3d. Extreme punctuality and diligence in collecting rents, and a strict determination that they shall be paid regularly, have accomplished this; as a proof of which it is curious to observe that £1 3s. 3d. of the bad debts accumulated during two months that I was away in the country. I have tried to remember, when it seemed hardest, that the fulfilment of their duties was the best education for the tenants in every way. It has given them a dignity and glad feeling of honourable behaviour which has much more than compensated for the apparent harshness of the rule.

Nothing has impressed me more than the people’s perception of an underlying current of sympathy through all dealings that have seemed harsh. Somehow, love and care have made themselves felt. It is also wonderful that they should prize as they do the evenness of the law that is over them. They are accustomed to alternate violence of passion and toleration of vice. They expected a greater toleration, ignorant indulgence and frequent almsgiving; but in spite of this have recognized as a blessing a rule which is very strict, but the demands of which they know, and a government which is true in word and deed. The plan of substituting a lady for a resident landlady of the same class as her tenants is not wholly gain. The lady will probably have subtler sympathy and clearer comprehension of their needs, but she cannot give the same minute supervision that a resident landlady can. Unhappily, the advantage of such a change is, however, at present unquestionable. The influence of the majority of the lower class of people who sublet to the poor is almost wholly injurious. That tenants should be given up to the dominion of those whose word is given and broken almost as a matter of course, whose habits and standards are very low, whose passions are violent, who have neither large hope nor clear sight, nor even sympathy, is very sad. It seems to me that a greater power is in the hands of landlords and landladies than of schoolteachers—power either of life or death, physical or spiritual. It is not an unimportant question who shall wield it. There are dreadful instances in which sin is really tolerated and shared; where the lodger who will drink most with his landlord is most favoured, and many a debt overlooked, to compensate for which the price of rooms is raised; and thus the steady and sober pay more rent to make up for losses caused by the unprincipled.

With the great want of rooms there is in this neighbourhood it did not seem right to expel families, however large, inhabiting one room. Whenever from any cause a room was vacant and a large family occupied an adjoining one, I have endeavoured to induce them to rent the two. To incoming tenants I do not let what seems decidedly insufficient accommodation. We have been able to let two rooms for four shillings and sixpence, whereas the tenants were in many cases paying four shillings for one. At first they considered it quite an unnecessary expenditure to pay more rent for a second room, however small the additional sum might be. They have gradually learnt to feel the comfort of having two rooms, and pay willingly for them. (It is not possible to form any comparison between the rent of rooms in London and New York, the circumstances of the two cities being so different; but the point to be observed is that, by a very small increase of rent, the amount of accommodation may be doubled.)

The pecuniary success of the plan has been due to two causes. First, to the absence of middlemen; and, secondly, to great strictness about punctual payment of rent. At this moment not one tenant in any of the houses owes any rent, and during the whole time, as I have said, the bad debts have been exceedingly small. The law respecting such tenancies seems very simple, and when once the method of proceeding is understood, the whole business is easily managed; and I must say most seriously that I believe it to be better to pay legal expenses for getting rid of tenants than to lose by arrears of rent—better for the whole tone of the households, kinder to the tenants. The rule should be clearly understood and the people will respect themselves for having obeyed it. The commencement of proceedings which are known to be genuine and not a mere threat is usually sufficient to obtain payment of arrears; in one case only has an ejectment for rent been necessary. The great want of rooms gives the possessors of such property immense power over their lodgers. Let them see to it that they use it righteously. The fluctuations of work cause to respectable tenants the main difficulties in paying their rent. I have tried to help them in two ways. First, by inducing them to save; this they have done steadily, and each autumn has found them with a small fund accumulated, which has enabled them to meet the difficulties of the time when families are out of town. In the second place, I have done what I could to employ my tenants in slack seasons. I carefully set aside any work they can do for times of scarcity, and I try so to equalize in this small circle the irregularity of work, which must be more or less pernicious, and which the childishness of the poor makes doubly so. They have strangely little power of looking forward; a result is to them as nothing if it will not be perceptible till next quarter! This is very curious to me, especially as seen in connection with that large hope to which I have alluded, and which often makes me think that if I could I would carve over the houses the motto, “Spem, etiam illi habent, quibus nihil aliud restat.”

Another beautiful trait in their character is their trust; it has been quite marvellous to find how great and how ready this is. In no single case have I met with suspicion or with anything but entire confidence.

It is needless to say that there have been many minor difficulties and disappointments. Each separate person who has failed to rise and meet the help that would have been so gladly given has been a distinct loss to me; for somehow the sense of relation to them has been a very real one, and a feeling of interest and responsibility has been very strong, even where there was least that was lovely or lovable in the particular character. When they have not had sufficient energy or self-control to choose the sometimes hard path that has seemed the only right one, it would have been hard to part from them, except for a hope that others would be able to lead them where I have failed.

Two distinct kinds of work depend entirely on one another if they are to bear their full fruit. There is, firstly, the simple fulfilment of a landlady’s bounden duties, and uniform demand of the fulfilment of those of the tenants. We have felt ourselves bound by laws which must be obeyed, however hard obedience might often be. Then, secondly, there is the individual friendship which has grown up from intimate knowledge and from a sense of dependence and protection. Knowledge gives power to see the real position of families; to suggest in time the inevitable result of certain habits; to urge such measures as shall secure the education of the children and their establishment in life; to keep alive the germs of energy; to waken the gentler thought; to refuse resolutely to give any help but such as rouses self-help; to cherish the smallest lingering gleam of self-respect; and, finally, to be near with strong help should the hour of trial fall suddenly and heavily, and to give it with the hand and heart of a real old friend, who has filled many relations besides that of almsgiver, who has long ago given far more than material help, and has thus earned the right to give this lesser to the most independent spirits.

III
BLANK COURT
(1871)

How this relation between landlord and tenant might be established in some of the lowest districts of London, and with what results, I am about to describe by relating what has been done in the last two years in Blank Court.

In many of the houses the dustbins were utterly unapproachable, and cabbage-leaves, stale fish and every sort of dirt were lying in the passages and on the stairs; in some the back kitchen had been used as a dustbin, but had not been emptied for years, and the dust filtered through into the front kitchens, which were the sole living and sleeping rooms of some families; in some, the kitchen stairs were many inches thick with dirt, which was so hardened that a shovel had to be used to get it off; in some there was hardly any water to be had; the wood was eaten away, and broken away; windows were smashed, and the rain was coming through the roofs. At night it was still worse; and during the first winter I had to collect the rents chiefly then, as the inhabitants, being principally costermongers, were out nearly all day, and they were afraid to entrust their rent to their neighbours. It was then that I saw the houses in their most dreadful aspect. I well remember wet, foggy Monday nights, when I turned down the dingy court, past the brilliantly lighted public-house at the corner, past the old furniture outside the shops, and dived into the dark, yawning passage-ways. The front doors stood open day and night, and as I felt my way down the kitchen stairs, broken, and rounded by the hardened mud upon them, the foul smells which the heavy, foggy air would not allow to rise met me as I descended, and the plaster rattled down as I groped along. It was truly appalling to think that there were human beings who lived habitually in such an atmosphere, with such surroundings. Sometimes I had to open the kitchen door myself, after knocking several times in vain, when a woman, quite drunk, would be lying on the floor on some black mass which served as a bed; sometimes, in answer to my knocks, a half-drunken man would swear, and thrust the rent-money out to me through a chink of the door, placing his foot against it so as to prevent it opening wide enough to admit me. Always it would be shut again without a light being offered to guide me up the pitch-dark stairs. Such was Blank Court in the winter of 1869. Truly, a wild, lawless, desolate little kingdom to come to rule over.

On what principles was I to rule these people? On the same as I had already tried, and tried with success, in other places, and which I may sum up as the two following: firstly, to demand a strict fulfilment of their duties to me—one of the chief of which would be the punctual payment of rent; and secondly, to endeavour to be so unfailingly just and patient that they should learn to trust the rule that was over them.

With regard to details, I would make a few improvements at once, such, for example, as the laying on of water and repairing of dustbins; but, for the most part, improvements should be made only by degrees, as the people became more capable of valuing them and not abusing them. I would have the rooms distempered and thoroughly cleansed as they became vacant, and then they should be offered to the more cleanly of the tenants. I would have such repairs as were not immediately needed used as a means of giving work to the men in times of distress. I would draft the occupants of the underground kitchens into the upstairs rooms, and would ultimately convert the kitchens into bathrooms and washhouses. I would have the landlady’s portion of the house—i.e. the stairs and passages—at once repaired and distempered, and they should be regularly scrubbed, and, as far as possible, made models of cleanliness, for I knew, from former experience, that the example of this would, in time, silently spread itself to the rooms themselves, and that payment for this work would give me some hold over the older girls. I would collect savings personally, not trust to their being taken to distant banks or savings clubs. And, finally, I knew that I should learn to feel these people as my friends, and so should instinctively feel the same respect for their privacy and their independence, and should treat them with the same courtesy that I should show towards any other personal friends. There would be no interference, no entering their rooms uninvited, no offer of money or the necessaries of life. But when occasion presented itself I should give them any help I could, such as I might offer without insult to other friends—sympathy in their distresses; advice, help and counsel in their difficulties; introductions that might be of use to them; means of education; visits to the country; a lent book when not able to work; a bunch of flowers brought on purpose; an invitation to any entertainment, in a room built at the back of my own house, which would be likely to give them pleasure. I am convinced that one of the evils of much that is done for the poor springs from the want of delicacy felt, and courtesy shown, towards them, and that we cannot beneficially help them in any spirit different to that in which we help those who are better off. The help may differ in amount, because their needs are greater. It should not differ in kind.

I have learned to know that people are ashamed to abuse a place they find cared for. They will add dirt to dirt till a place is pestilential, but the more they find done for it, the more they will respect it, till at last order and cleanliness prevail. It is this feeling of theirs, coupled with the fact that they do not like those whom they have learned to love, and whose standard is higher than their own, to see things which would grieve them, which has enabled us to accomplish nearly every reform of outward things that we have achieved; so that the surest way to have any place kept clean is to go through it often yourself.

Amongst the many benefits which the possession of the houses enables us to confer on the people, perhaps one of the most important is our power of saving them from neighbours who would render their lives miserable. It is a most merciful thing to protect the poor from the pain of living in the next room to drunken, disorderly people. “I am dying,” said an old woman to me the other day; “I wish you would put me where I can’t hear S—— beating his wife. Her screams are awful. And B—— too, he do come in so drunk. Let me go over the way to No. 30.” Our success depends on duly arranging the inmates; not too many children in any one house, so as to overcrowd it; not too few, so as to overcrowd another; not two bad people side by side, or they drink together; not a terribly bad person beside a very respectable one.

It appears to me, then, to be proved by practical experience that when we can induce the rich to undertake the duties of landlords in poor neighbourhoods, and ensure a sufficient amount of the wise, personal supervision of educated and sympathetic people acting as their representatives, we achieve results which are not attainable in any other way. I would call upon those who may possess cottage property in large towns to consider the immense power they thus hold in their hands and the large influence for good they may exercise by the wise use of that power. When they have to delegate it to others, let them take care to whom they commit it; and let them beware lest, through the widely prevailing system of subletting, this power ultimately abide with those who have neither the will nor the knowledge which would enable them to use it beneficially.

It is on these things and their faithful execution that the life of the whole matter depends, and by which steady progress is ensured. It is the smaller things of the world that colour the lives of those around us, and it is on persistent efforts to reform these that progress depends; and we may rest assured that they who see with greater eyes than ours have a due estimate of the service, and that if we did but perceive the mighty principles underlying these tiny things we should rather feel awed that we are entrusted with them at all, than scornful and impatient that they are no larger. What are we that we should ask for more than that God should let us work for Him among the tangible things which He created to be fair and the human which He redeemed to be pure? From time to time He lifts a veil and shows us, even while we struggle with imperfections here below, that towards which we are working—shows us how, by governing and ordering the tangible things one by one, we may make of this earth a fair dwelling-place. And, far better still, how, by cherishing human beings, He will let us help Him in His work of building up temples meet for Him to dwell in—faint images of that best Temple of all which He promised that He would raise up on the third day, though men might destroy it.

IV
THE INFLUENCE OF MODEL DWELLINGS UPON CHARACTER
(1892)

As it now seems fairly clear that the working population of London is likely to be more and more housed in “blocks,” it is not very profitable to spend time in considering whether this is a fact to rejoice in or to deplore, except so far as the consideration may enable us to see how far the advantages of the change may be increased or the drawbacks diminished. The advantages of the change are very apparent and are apt to appear overwhelming, and the disadvantages are apt to be dismissed as somewhat sentimental or inevitable. I have, however, little to say upon advantages. They may, I think, be briefly summed up under two heads. It is supposed that better sanitary arrangements are secured in blocks. It is also certain that all inspection and regulation are easier in blocks; and on inspection and regulation much of our modern legislation, much of our popular hope is based.

With regard to the sanitary arrangements, I think all who are at all conversant with the subject are beginning to be aware that these at least may be as faulty in blocks as in smaller buildings; but it is undoubtedly true that even where this is so, the publicity of the block enables inspection to be carried out much more easily, and so, theoretically at least, a certain standard can be enforced. And though this is not quite so true in actual practice as those who put their faith in enforcement of sanitary law are apt to imagine, still it is true, and it is a very distinct advantage to be noted.

Your readers may be astonished that I do not put down the greater economy of the block system as a distinct gain, but I am not so wholly sure as may seem that it exists. For, first, room by room the block dwellings are not at all invariably cheaper than those in small houses. Moreover, I think we can hardly permit, and assuredly cannot permanently congratulate and pride ourselves upon, a form of construction which admits so very little sunlight into lower floors. So that to the present cost of block buildings must, I should think, be fairly added in the future such diminution of height or such increase of yard space as would allow of the freer entrance of air and light. This would increase the ground-rent payable on each room. I think also that the cheapness of erecting many-storied buildings is exaggerated. I have built very few blocks, but I have been consulted about some, and I have more than once proved in £ s. d. that cutting off a story from the block as shown in the plans was a very small net loss, when cost of building, saving on rates, repairs, etc., and possibly even diminution in wall thickness, justified by the lower elevation, were taken into account. We must also remember the increase of rent gladly paid by the sober and home-loving man for ground-floor rooms lighter and pleasanter than if overshadowed by high blocks. I do not wish to generalize—the matter is one of £ s. d.—but I say that the figures are well worth careful study on each building scheme, and that, as far as the model dwellings are concerned, I think their undue height in proportion to width of yard has sometimes been due to the mistaken zeal for accommodating numbers of families. I say mistaken, for with our increased means of cheap transit we should try to scatter rather than to concentrate our population, especially if the concentration has to be secured by dark lower rooms.

With regard to the disadvantages of blocks, I think they may be divided into those which may be looked upon, by such of us as are hopeful, as probably transitory, and those which seem, so far as we can see, quite essential to the block system. The transitory ones are by far the most serious. They are those which depend on the enormously increasing evil which grows up in a huge community of those who are undisciplined and untrained. They disappear with civilization; they are, so far as I know, entirely absent in large groups of blocks where the tenants are the quiet, respectable working-class families who, to use a phrase common in London, “keep themselves to themselves,” and whose well-ordered, quiet little homes, behind their neat little doors with bright knockers, nicely supplied with well-chosen appliances, now begin to form groups where responsible, respectable citizens live in cleanliness and order. Under rules they grow to think natural and reasonable, inspected and disciplined, every inhabitant registered and known, School Board laws and laws of the landlord or company regularly enforced, every infectious case of illness instantly removed, all disinfecting done at public cost, is developed a life of law, regular, a little monotonous, and not encouraging any great individuality, but consistent with happy home life, and it promises to be the life of the respectable London working man.

On the other hand, what life in blocks is to the less self-controlled hardly any words of mine are strong enough to describe, and it is abhorred accordingly by the tidy and striving, wherever any—even a small number—of the undisciplined are admitted to blocks, or where, being admitted, there is no real living rule exercised. Regulations are of small avail; no public inspection can possibly, for more than an hour or two, secure order; no resident superintendent has at once conscience, nerve and devotion single-handed to stem the violence, the dirt, the noise, the quarrels; no body of public opinion on the part of the tenants themselves asserts itself: one by one the tidier ones depart disheartened, the rampant remain and prevail, and often, though with a very fair show to the outsider, the block becomes a sort of pandemonium. No one who is not in and out day by day, or, better still, night after night; no one who does not watch the swift degradation of children belonging to tidy families; no one who does not know the terrorism exercised by the rough over the timid and industrious poor; no one who does not know the abuse of every appliance provided by the benevolent or speculative but non-resident landlord, can tell what life in blocks is where the population is low class. Sinks and drains are stopped; yards provided for exercise must be closed because of misbehaviour; boys bathe in the drinking-water cisterns; washhouses on staircases—or staircases themselves—become the nightly haunt of the vicious, the Sunday gambling places of boys; the yell of the drunkard echoes through the hollow passages; the stairs are blocked by dirty children, and the life of any decent hard-working family becomes intolerable.

The very same evils are nothing like as injurious where the families are more separate, so that, while in smaller houses one can often try difficult tenants with real hope of their doing better, it is wholly impossible usually to try (or to train) them in blocks. The temptations are greater, the evils of relapse are far greater. It is like taking a bad girl into a school. Hence the enormous importance of keeping a large number of small houses wherever possible for the better training of the rowdy and the protection of the quiet and gentle; and I would implore well-meaning landlords to pause before they clear away small houses and erect blocks, with any idea of benefiting the poorer class of people. The change may be inevitable, it may have to come, but as they value the life of our poorer fellow-citizens, let them pause before they throw them into a corporate life for which they are not ready, and which will, so far as I can see, not train them to be ready for it. Let them either ask tidy working people they know, or learn for themselves, whether I am not right in saying that in the shabbiest little two-, four-, six- or eight-roomed house, with all the water to carry upstairs, with one little w.c. in a tiny backyard, with perhaps one dustbin at the end of the court, and even, perhaps, with a dark little twisted staircase, there are not far happier, better, yes, and healthier homes than in the blocks where lower-class people share and do not keep in order far better appliances.

And let them look the deeper into this in so far as our reformers who trust to inspection for all education, our would-be philanthropists or newspaper correspondents who visit a court or block once and think they have seen it, even our painstaking statisticians who catalogue what can be catalogued, are unable to deal with these facts. Those who know the life of the poor know—those who watch the effect of letting to a given family a set of rooms in a block in a rough neighbourhood, or rooms in a small house in the same district, know—those who remember how numerous are the kinds of people to whom they must refuse rooms in a block for their own sake, or that of others, know. To the noisy drunkard one must say, “For the quiet people’s sake, No”; to the weak drunkard one must say, “You would get led away, No”; to the young widow with children one must say, “Would not you be better in a small house where the resident landlady would see a little to the children?” thinking in one’s heart also, “and to you.” For the orphaned factory girl who would “like to keep mother’s home together” one feels a less public life safer; for the quiet family who care to bring up their children well one fears the bad language and gambling on the stairs. For the strong and self-contained and self-reliant it may be all right, but the instinct of the others who cling on to the smaller houses is right for them.

For, after all, the “home”—the “life”—does not depend on the number of appliances, or even in any deep sense on the sanitary arrangements. I heard a workman once say, with some coarseness but with much truth, “Gentlemen think if they put a water-closet to every room they have made a home of it,” and the remark often recurs to me for the element of truth there is in it, and there is more decency in many a tiny little cottage in Southwark, shabby as it may be—more family life in many a one room let to a family—than in many a populous block. And this is due partly to the comparative peace of the more separate home: for it seems as if a certain amount of quiet and even of isolation made family life and neighbourly kindness more possible. People become brutal in large numbers who are gentle when they are in smaller groups and know one another, and the life in a block only becomes possible when there is a deliberate isolation of the family and a sense of duty with respect to all that is in common. The low-class people herd on the staircases and corrupt one another, where those a little higher would withdraw into their little sanctum. But in their own little house, or as lodgers in a small house, the lower-class people get the individual feeling and notice which often trains them in humanity.

Whatever may be the way out of the difficulty, let us hope that it may come before great evil is done by the massing together of herds of untrained people, and by the ghastly abuse of staircases, open all night but not under public inspection, not easily inspected even if nominally so placed. The problem is one we ought all, so far as in us lies, to lay to heart and do what we can to solve. I have not dwelt here on what may be called the “sentimental” objections to blocks. The first is the small scope they give for individual freedom. The second is their painful ugliness and uninterestingness in external look, which is nearly always connected with the first. For difference is at least interesting and amusing, monotony never. Let us hope that when we have secured our drainage, our cubic space of air, our water on every floor, we may have time to live in our homes, to think how to make them pretty, each in our own way, and to let the individual characteristics they take from our life in them be all good, as well as healthy and beautiful, because all human life and work were surely meant to be like all Divine creations, lovely as well as good.

V
SMALL HOUSES IN LONDON
(1886)

“Land is too valuable in London for us to build cottages, we must have blocks.” Let that be granted for the moment; but that does not preclude those who own such cottages from keeping them where they are built. And I wish that any words of mine might avail with even one such owner, to induce him to pause and consider, very seriously, whether, at any rate for a time, he might not manage to drain and improve water supply and roofs, and thoroughly clean such old buildings, instead of sweeping them away. As to cost, the cottages are far more valuable than the cleared space; as to health, they may be made, at a small cost, far more healthy than any but the very best constructed and best managed blocks. As to the life possible in them—of which the charitable and reforming and legislating bodies know so little—it is incomparably happier and better. Let us keep them while we can.

And suppose we grant that London is coming to block buildings, and must come to them; the preservation of the cottages gives time for the question of management to be studied and perfected. The improvement may come from the training and subsequent employment of ladies like my own fellow-workers, under the directors of large companies and in conjunction with good resident superintendents. Or it may come from the co-operation of a consultative body of good tenants, to assist the managers. Or it may come by the steady improvement of the main body of the roughest tenants, making them gradually fitted to use things in common. But, seeing in all classes how difficult it is to get anything cared for which is used in common, unless there be some machinery for its management, I think this latter remedy should rather be counted on as making the work easier than as sufficient in itself. While I am on this subject, may I remark that it would be well if those who build blocks would consider, in settling their plans, what machinery they are mainly trusting to for securing good order?

VI
LETTERS TO FELLOW-WORKERS

In 1872 Miss Octavia Hill began the practice of writing at the end of each year a letter which was sent to all who were associated with her in her work. The following are some selections:

WORK UNDER THE ECCLESIASTICAL COMMISSIONERS.

LETTER OF 1902.—During the past year the Ecclesiastical Commissioners asked us to take charge of some of their property, of which the leases fell in, in Southwark and Lambeth.

In Southwark the area had been leased long ago on the old-fashioned tenure of “lives.” That is, it was held not for a specified term of years, but subject to the life of certain persons. The lease fell in, therefore, quite suddenly, and fifty of the houses, which were occupied by working people, were placed under my care. I had only four days’ notice before I had to begin collecting. It was well for us that my fellow-workers rose to the occasion and at once undertook the added duties; well, too, that we were then pretty strong in workers. It was a curious Monday’s work. The houses having been let and sublet, I could be furnished with few particulars. I had a map and the numbers of the houses, which were scattered in various streets over the five acres which had reverted to the Commissioners, but I had no tenant’s name nor the rental of any tenement, nor did the tenants know or recognize the written authority, having long paid to other landlords. I subdivided the area geographically between my two principal South London workers, and I went to every house, accompanied by one or other of them. I learnt the name of the tenant, explained the circumstances, saw their books and learnt their rental, and finally succeeded in obtaining every rent. Many of the houses required much attention, and since then we have been busily employed in supervising necessary repairs. The late lessees were liable for dilapidations, and I felt once more how valuable to us it was to represent owners like the Commissioners, for all this legal and surveying work was done ably by responsible and qualified men of business, while we were free to go in and out among the tenants, watch details, report grievous defects, decide what repairs essential to health should be done instantly. We have not half done all this, but we are steadily progressing.

The very same day the Commissioners sent to me about this sudden accession of work in Southwark, they asked me whether I could also take over one hundred and sixty houses in Lambeth. I had known that this lease was falling in to them, and I knew that they proposed rebuilding for working people on some seven acres there, and would consult me about this. But I had no idea that they meant to ask me to take charge of the old cottages pending the rebuilding. However, we were able to undertake this, and it will be a very great advantage to us to get to know the tenants, the locality, the workers in the neighbourhood, before the great decisions about rebuilding are made. In this case I had the advantage of going round with the late lessee, who gave me names, rentals and particulars, and whose relations with his late tenants struck me as very satisfactory and human. On this area our main duties have been to induce tenants to pay who knew that their houses were coming down (in this we have succeeded), to decide those difficult questions of what to repair in houses soon to be destroyed, to empty one portion of the area where cottages are first to be built, providing accommodation elsewhere so far as is possible, and to arrange the somewhat complicated minute details as to rates and taxes payable for cottages partly empty, temporarily empty, on assessments which had all to be ascertained, and where certain rates in certain houses for certain times only were payable by the owners whom we represent.

LETTER OF 1903.—The past year has brought one very large expansion of our work, larger than that of any previous year; and it is started on independent lines, in a way which gives hope for future growth. The Ecclesiastical Commissioners wrote to tell me in the autumn that an area in South London containing twenty-two acres, and with between five hundred and six hundred houses on it, was falling in to them at the expiration of a long lease, and they asked me to undertake the management of the property. Bearing in mind what they themselves had said as to providing for the continuity of such work, and with a deep desire not to lose near touch with my own old tenants, workers and places, if I spread my time over still larger areas, I set myself to think whether this new work might not be started from a new centre, and have been fortunate enough to be able to recommend a lady of great power and experience, who consents to undertake this new property, with direct responsibility to the Commissioners.

It was a huge undertaking, and needed much care and labour to start it well, and naturally we were all keen to help. It was a great day when we took over the place. Our seconds-in-command took command manfully for a fortnight of all our old courts, and fourteen of us met on Monday, October 5th, to take over the estate and collect from five hundred to six hundred tenants wholly unknown to us. We organized it all thoughtfully; we had fifteen collecting books and all the tenants’ books prepared, opened a bank account, found a room as an office, and divided the area among the workers. Our first duty was to get the tenants to recognize our authority and pay us. I think we were very successful; we got every tenant on the estate to pay us without any legal process, except one who was a regular scamp. We collected some £250, most of it in silver, and got it safely to the bank. Then came the question of repairs; there were written in the first few weeks one thousand orders for these, although, as the whole area is to be rebuilt, we were only doing actually urgent and no substantial ones. All these had to be overlooked and reported on and paid for. Next came pouring in the claims for borough and water rates. We had to ascertain the assessments of every house, the facts as to whether landlord or tenant was responsible, whether the rates were compounded for or not, what allowance was to be claimed for empty houses or rooms. There were two Water Companies supplying the area, and we had to learn which supplied each house.

The whole place was to be rebuilt, and even the streets rearranged and widened, and I had promised the Commissioners I would advise them as to the future plans. These had to be prepared at the earliest date possible, the more so as the sanitary authorities were pressing, and sent in one hundred orders in the first few days we were there. It is needless to say with what speed, capacity and zeal the representatives of the Commissioners carried on their part of these preparations, and they rapidly decided on which streets should be first rebuilt. But this only implied more to be done, for we had to empty the streets swiftly, and that meant patching up all possible empty houses in other streets and moving the tenants into them. Fortunately, there were several houses empty, the falling in of the leases having scared some people away. The Commissioners had decided to close all the public-houses on the estate, and we let one to a girls’ club, and had to put repairs in hand to fit it for its changed destination.

The matter now stands thus: we have got through the first quarter; have collected £2,672, mostly in silver; the quarter’s accounts are nearly ready to send in; we have completed the most pressing repairs; have emptied two streets, and plans for rebuilding them are decided on; tenders have been accepted for these, and they have been begun. Plans have been prepared for rebuilding and rearrangement of the whole estate, and these are now before the Commissioners for their consideration. They provide a site for rebuilding the parish school, an area of about an acre as a public recreation ground, the substitution of four wide for three narrow streets, and afford accommodation for 790 families in four-roomed and six-roomed cottages, cottage flats, and flats of three- and two-roomed tenements in houses in no case higher than three stories.

But there remains one most important point still under the consideration of the Commissioners. It is whether this domain is to be leased to builders and managed by them and their successors for some eighty years or whether it is to remain under the direct control of the Commissioners. All of you who know anything of how much depends on management will realize how earnestly I trust that they may decide to retain the area, and may feel confident of finding representatives in the future to manage it for them on sound financial principles and in the best interests of tenants and landlords. Those who know what a country landlord can do in a village will realize the influence of wise government in such an area. This land is Church land, it adjoins the parish church, it is quite near the Talbot Settlement, established by, and named after, the Bishop of the diocese; surely it should not pass from the control of the owners. If clauses in leases were as wisely planned and as strongly enforced as possible, they could still not be like the living government of wise owners, and since needs and standards are for ever altering, many decisions involving change during the next eighty years may be desirable.

PAYMENT OF RATES BY TENANTS.

LETTER OF 1894.—In all these new cottages I am introducing the plan of arranging that the tenants should pay their own rates, the rent being fixed much lower to enable them to do this.