The problem of riches—Necessity for scientific investigation into the lives of the rich—Interdependence of riches and poverty—Analysis of expenditure on houses, servants, clothes, food, amusements—Impressions of a poor crowd and a rich crowd—Tragedies.
On all sides it is admitted that there is a problem of Poverty, but it has never yet been suggested that just in the same way there is a problem of Riches. Not the problem of how to become rich and how to invest money and make more money, that is the very obsession which ought to be dispelled, but the important question of how the rich spend their money, how they live, to what objects they devote their riches, and whether the vast accumulations are being disposed of to the greatest advantage. The connection between riches and poverty is capable of proof, that is to say, the maladministration of wealth by individuals can be shown to be closely linked to the disorganisation of labour which creates such evils as sweating and unemployment. But before further advance can be made towards any possible solution there must be a dissection and analysis of the lives of the rich as well as of the poor, so that some knowledge may be acquired of both sides of the medal which will demonstrate their interdependence.
We are allowed to extract every conceivable detail of the most intimate nature from the poor householder, but any sort of inquiry as to how the rich live is regarded as an impertinence. Even the suggestion that they should make a return of all their income, as a man of moderate means must do for income tax purposes, is scouted as inquisitorial.
We inquire into the lives of the poor in order to ascertain the actual facts, so that with a full knowledge of the evil we may set to work scientifically to improve their condition. But this is really only half the problem. No investigation can be complete unless an equally careful and exhaustive inquiry is made into the way the rich live. It cannot be regarded as an inquisitive prying into personal and private habits, for when the expenditure is on such a scale as to have extensive economic consequences it ceases to be of a private nature and ought to be investigated on public grounds. Not only might the inquiry be made with a view to the improvement of their own way of living—though they would refuse to admit there was any room for improvement—but by this means more light would also be thrown on the problem of poverty.
It is the question of distribution that is admittedly the insoluble difficulty, and yet we set to work to examine the barren patches and leave out of account the land that is soured by over-fertilisation. To accomplish a successful work of irrigation attention must not only be turned to the dry and arid land, but to the marshy, low-lying parts that have got more of the water than they need and require draining, otherwise an even flow over the whole can never be engineered and the full capacity of the soil cannot be given a fair chance.
It is absurd to suppose that any section of the community, whatever pretensions they may have, can live as they like without affecting the lives and wellbeing of their fellow-men. Riches may set up a fence, make those inside it believe that they are living in a world apart and blind them to what is going on outside, but riches have no power to sever the moral and spiritual, as well as the invisible economic ties which bind every individual from his birth to his death with the whole of the rest of humanity. This attitude of aloofness which the rich adopt makes it true to say of them that “they are outcasts and are cut off from natural and human relationship with the great mass of mankind.”19 The people who consider the richness of the rich has nothing to do with the poverty of the poor are in the habit of asserting that even if all incomes large and small were added together there would not be enough “to go round.” They fail to remember that money which is invested without any return, or only getting a very low return, has not the same value and cannot go as far as the same sum bringing in a high return from a remunerative investment.
The attacks of a vaguely disparaging nature made against the rich are often beside the mark from the lack of accurate knowledge of their position, their habits, and their methods. But ought not the expenditure of these accumulated masses of money to be subjected to some scientific scrutiny? Can another “Personal Service Association” be established among the poor for visiting the rich? It is just as necessary. Can a supplement be compiled to Mr. Charles Booth’s Life and Labour of the People, Mr. Rowntree’s Poverty: a Study of Town Life?
What would be the fate of an investigator who dared to pursue his inquiries at houses in Mayfair or Belgravia? In response to the bell the massive front door would slowly open, and out of the darkness of the hall would emerge the solemn figure of an overfed butler flanked by two giants with powdered hair. The investigator, note-book in hand, if he had the courage to proceed, would ask his string of queries as to how many rooms the house contained, how many people, the cost of living, the health of the children, the employment of the man, etc. etc. But he would not get very far before the incensed and outraged dignity of his audience would take an active form and he would find himself hurled down the steps into the street.
Nevertheless, such a book would be of enormous use. It would serve to establish a concrete basis from which useful economic and sociological deductions might be made, however disagreeable some of the disclosures might be incidentally. It would not be an invitation to the masses to spoil and rob the rich any more than the books on Poverty are an invitation to the rich to largess more of their wealth among the poor. Indeed, there is no question of spoliation, it is all a matter of adjustment. The blame cast on the rich would no doubt be heavy because they have the power of initiative, education, and free choice to act differently, while the poor are merely the slaves of the overwhelming force of circumstances and the victims of a system which they have neither the intelligence to understand nor the power to resist.
The following authentic information, based on actual facts and not hearsay, will give some small idea of what this suggested investigation might produce. Extracts are also given from reports on the state of the poor for the sake of completeness rather than contrast.
For instance, we read a brief description of the household of a man of “no occupation”:
“Married. Two rooms; two children; parish relief; ill, incapable. Two little girls, one consumptive. The rooms are miserable, badly ventilated and damp. This house shares one closet with six other houses, and one water tap with three others.”
Or of a “regular loafer”:
“Married. Two rooms; one child. Wife sews. House very dark on account of high buildings opposite. Kept tidy and clean. This house shares one closet with two other houses, and one water tap with six others.”20
Surely we ought to know the description, though it cannot be so brief, of the household of another man of “no occupation”:
“Married. Two children. Four houses. London house, —— Street, W. Sixty-two rooms; one of the country houses considerably larger. Thirty-six indoor servants:
1 house steward.
2 grooms of the chamber.
1 valet.
2 under butlers.
3 footmen.
2 steward’s room footmen.
1 gate porter.
1 hall porter.
1 usher of the servants’ hall.
2 odd men.
1 house carpenter.
1 chef.
1 kitchen porter.
4 kitchen and scullery maids.
2 still-room maids.
6 housemaids.
1 linen maid.
1 lady’s maid.
1 housekeeper.
2 nurses.
Owns about 20,000 acres of land. (A larger staff of servants than this could be quoted. In one country house as many as ten housemaids are kept.)”
Or let us take the inhabitants of a six-roomed house:
“Ground floor, in the front room lives a widow who does repairing and is very poor. The back room is occupied by two prostitutes. On the first floor front room live man and wife with seven children. He loafs and she washes. They are very dirty and miserably poor. At the back live a man and woman with two children. He is consumptive and does nothing in particular. She goes out begging with the children. On the top floor in two rooms are man and wife with eight children. He spends his time about the public-houses. She does anything she can. The eldest boy, a decent lad, is at a chemist’s shop, but he is consumptive. Six rooms; twenty-six people.”21
The occupation of twenty-six of the people who live in another house containing seventy-two rooms is as follows:
Butler (wages £120),22 valet, groom of the chambers, under butler, three footmen, one steward’s room footman, usher of the servants’ hall, odd man, chef (wages £150),22 kitchen porter, four kitchen and scullery maids, five housemaids, two still-room maids, one lady’s maid, one needlewoman, one housekeeper.
This staff ministers to the wants of a man, his wife, and three children.
In the country, at a stone’s throw from one another, we find a man, a farm labourer, living with his wife and six children in a four-roomed cottage on 14s. a week, and another man, without any permanent employment, living with his wife and a staff of twenty-three indoor servants in a house containing over sixty rooms, with the choice of two other large country houses and a London house, and owning over 50,000 acres of land, a great deal of which is kept for shooting.
In another part of the country the medical officer of the county reports: “In a house consisting of living-room, bedroom, and a small scullery live father, mother, three sons, also three children under ten and two men lodgers. Seven sleep in the bedroom, which has a low ceiling and has been divided, and five sleep in the living-room; the only window of the latter room will not open, and the window of the divided upstairs room is near the floor level.”
The landlord and lord of the manor of this district lives with his wife and family in a house containing over one hundred rooms, and is attended by a staff of forty-four indoor servants. He has the choice of three other country residences and a town house, and owns over 186,000 acres. We find some women occupied in the following way:
“Mrs. B. and her daughter support themselves on shirt work. The mother is a shirt finisher, the daughter a machinist. They work seven or eight hours a day—the daughter’s book shows an average of 11s. 3¾d. over four weeks—the mother’s 9s. 1d. over nine weeks. When the mother earns 10s. it means working from 5:30 a.m. till 10 or 11 p.m. She gets 2d. per dozen for finishing, i.e. 72 buttons and 48 bars.”23
Or:
“Mrs. C. is always busy mending, making, washing, or baking, and certainly makes the best of all that comes in her way. She states that she can never afford money for recreation or for a holiday out of the town.”24
While others are occupied as follows:
Early cup of tea, one hour for dressing, late breakfast, writing notes, two hours shopping, half an hour for dressing, one hour for luncheon (three courses), drive, pay or receive calls, quarter of an hour for dressing, one and a half hour for tea and gossip, an hour’s rest, one hour for dressing, one and a half hour for dinner (six courses); theatre, ball, or bridge; supper, bed.
We might have hit upon the day in the week on which an hour or so was devoted to an “intellectual” lecture or a committee meeting for some charity.
The annual average estimates of clothing are instructive:
| Female | s. | d. |
| Boots | 9 | 0 |
| Dress | 8 | 0 |
| Blouse | 2 | 0 |
| Aprons | 2 | 0 |
| Stockings | 1 | 6 |
| Underclothing | 2 | 10 |
| Stays | 2 | 6 |
| Hats | 1 | 6 |
| Jacket and shawl | 2 | 6 |
| 31 | 10 |
To balance this we find:
| Female | £ |
| Boots and shoes | 30 |
| Dresses, evening and day | 170 |
| Blouses | 25 |
| Aprons | 0 |
| Underclothing | 120 |
| Hats | 45 |
| Cloaks and furs | 65 |
| Gloves | 20 |
| Veils, boas, scarves, etc | 70 |
| £545 |
A fair average instance has been taken. Double this amount is quite common. The case might be given of a woman who in 1908 spent in gowns, coats, and cloaks alone £2090 in two months. On the other hand a woman of the same class, a peer’s daughter, living in the top floor of —— Road at 5s. a week rent has to adjust her dress budget to fit in with an income of £60 a year.
| Male: | s. | d. |
| Boots | 11 | 0 |
| Socks | 3 | 0 |
| Coat and waistcoat (second-hand) | 5 | 6 |
| Trousers | 7 | 6 |
| Overcoat (second-hand, 15s., lasts three years) | 5 | 0 |
| Shirts | 4 | 0 |
| Cap and scarf | 1 | 325 |
| 37 | 3 |
| Another Male: | £ | s. | d. |
| Boots and shoes | 35 | 0 | 0 |
| Suits (day, evening, shooting, and flannels) | 90 | 0 | 0 |
| Socks, underclothing, gloves, handkerchiefs, white waistcoats, etc. | 86 | 0 | 0 |
| Hats and caps | 10 | 10 | 0 |
| Overcoats | 35 | 0 | 0 |
| £256 | 10 | 0 |
A normal case has been purposely chosen. The budget might have been given of a man who has ten evening suits, spends £10 a month on gloves and ties, and pays 25s. apiece for his pocket-handkerchiefs.
Before leaving the subject of clothes, one or two extracts may be quoted concerning those who help to make them:
“Mrs. —— gets 2s. 6d. a dozen for making coats and 2s. 3d. a dozen for reefers, and says ten years ago she got 5s. a dozen; eighteen years ago 1s., 1s. 6d., and 2s. a coat; and in her early days, when most of the work was done by hand, 5s. a coat.”
“Mrs. K. makes artificial flowers when she can get work. When visited, she was working at sprays with twenty-four small flowers, leaves, and stem, at 1½d. per spray.”
“Miss B. makes elaborate net blouses with tucks and insertion for 1s. to 1s. 4d. each. The wholesale price for these blouses is 8s. 11d., and the retail price 12s. to 15s.”
“A maker of pyjamas was paid 11s. 3d. for entirely making a dozen suits, but gave up the work and took to shirt-making, because the employer found someone who would do it for 6s. 3d.”26
Food offers, perhaps, the most striking study. In making this analysis it would almost seem necessary to remember that the cubic capacity of the adult human stomach does not vary to any appreciable extent, and, on the whole, appetite is liable to be keener with those who endure physical toil than with those who do nothing. Again, no extreme instances, one way or the other, will be given.
Man, wife, and child for five weeks:27
| | s. | d. |
| Meat and liver | | 8 | 5 |
| Potatoes and vegetables | | 2 | 3½ |
| Fish | | 0 | 9 |
| Bacon, eggs, and cheese | | 3 | 6¼ |
| Suet | | 1 | 0 |
| Butter and dripping | | 2 | 9 |
| Bread | | 8 | 9¼ |
| Flour | | 4 | 1½ |
| Rice | | 0 | 6 |
| Fruit, jam, and sugar | | 8 | 4¼ |
| Milk | | 3 | 2 |
| Tea and coffee | | 3 | 6 |
| Pepper and salt | | 0 | 2½ |
| £2 | 7 | 4¼ |
| Average for one week | | 9 | 5½ |
Or man, wife, two boys, and a girl:
| £ | s. | d. |
| Food and drink for three weeks | 2 | 0 | 7¼ |
| Average for one week | 0 | 13 | 6½ |
The study of the diet of this family reveals a deficiency of 25% in the protein and 7% in fuel value.28 Household books for one week—seven in family, nineteen servants:
| £ |
| Butcher | 1629 |
| Baker | 5 |
| Poulterer | 12 |
| Dairy | 9 |
| Fruit, flowers, vegetables | 16 |
| Fishmonger | 9 |
| Grocer | 5 |
| £72 |
(Two dinner parties were given during the week.)
The household of an “unemployed man,” living in —— Square, S.W., four in family and fourteen servants:
| £ | s. | d. |
| Butcher | 15 | 2 | 7 |
| Greengrocer | 10 | 10 | 0 |
| Ice merchant | 1 | 18 | 0 |
| Fishmonger | 7 | 10 | 0 |
| Grocer | 5 | 5 | 0 |
| Milkman | 4 | 10 | 0 |
| Poulterer | 12 | 0 | 0 |
| Baker | 3 | 17 | 0 |
| £60 | 12 | 7 |
In addition, three hundred eggs were sent up from the country, as well as fruit, vegetables, and a little poultry. One or two guests were entertained at luncheon, but the family dined out one night of the week. The laundry bill in this house averages £38 a month.
The cost of coal in one household for the year, £800.
Other examples:
Household books: four in family, twelve servants—one week, £49.
Household books: five in family, fourteen servants—one week, £63.
A single meal:
| Bread | 1d. |
| Cheese | 1d. |
| ¼ lb. of meat | 3d. |
| Potatoes and onions | 2d. |
| Jam | 1d. |
| ½ pint of beer | 2d. |
| 10d. |
Another meal:
Cantaloup GlacÉ.
Tortue Claire.
Bisque Nantua.
Truites SaumonÉes Michigan.
Mousse de Jambon À l’Escurial.
Selle d’Agneau Montefiore.
Poularde Strasbourgeoise.
Salade Indienne.
Cailles flanquÉs d’Ortolans.
Asperges Verts. Sauce Mousseuse.
PÊches Framboisines.
Friandises.
Fanchonettes Suisses.
Hock, Claret, Port, Coffee, and Liqueurs. This dinner for twenty people cost £60, or £3 a head, without wine.
If the figures in these instances, with regard to food expenditure, really represented quantities consumed, the dangers from overfeeding in the one set of cases would far exceed the dangers from underfeeding in the other. The cheerful bell that announces the servants’ midday meal no doubt heralds the consumption of a vast amount of food; but it is a debatable point whether sheer waste does not account for almost as much. Quarts of cream are emptied down the sink, joints and birds only half eaten are thrown away, and the pig-tub receives a rich enough allowance of vegetables, fruit, and cakes to satisfy the appetite of a large family. In fact, in one house, where the household books averaged £63 a week, the matter was looked into, and a reduction was made to £34 without any diminution in the number of servants.
* * * * *
Dancing is a form of amusement appreciated by all classes.
At —— Hall, Fulham, and many other similar places the tickets for the Saturday night dance cost 9d. each. If two hundred people are present, the cost would be £7 10s.; allowing 3d. a head for refreshments (£2 10s.), the total amount will be £10. At —— Hotel, S.W., a ball was given lately for two hundred people, costing £1237.
Granting that the amount of enjoyment derived from these two entertainments is equal, though in all probability there would be more genuine and honest pleasure in the former than in the latter, the two sums simply represent the different standards of living. That ten or even twenty times as much may be spent to give people who are accustomed to a higher scale of living the same amount of pleasure is perhaps intelligible, but it seems to require a sum which amounts to one hundred and twenty-three times as much.
* * * * *
Two bachelors take a night’s lodging.
The one, a working man, goes to —— House, S.E.
“Working Men’s Hotel, accommodation for 800 beds. 6d. per night.
Tea, coffee, and cocoa always ready, ½d. per small cup, 1d. per large cup.
Hot soup or porridge, 1d. and 1½d. per basin.
Cut from the joint and two vegetables, 5d. on week-days only; on Sundays, 6d.
Beefsteak pudding and two vegetables, 4½d.”
His night’s stay, with supper and breakfast, would cost rather over one shilling. The other will go to —— Hotel, S.W. (for men who do not work).
| £ | s. | d. |
| Room | 0 | 12 | 0 |
| Dinner, with bottle of claret | 1 | 7 | 0 |
| Coffee, liqueur, whisky-and-soda | 0 | 5 | 0 |
| Breakfast | 0 | 6 | 0 |
| Tips | 0 | 10 | 0 |
| £3 | 0 | 0 |
(There are suites of rooms in these hotels for three to nine guineas a day, which are all occupied during the season.)
* * * * *
If, instead of these few isolated instances of the cost of living, clothes, and entertainment, a systematically compiled list could be furnished tabulating some hundreds of cases, it would give a much more complete idea of the habits and customs of this stratum of society. And it would show that the cases here quoted are fair examples of average normal expenditure.
In both the extremes of excess, at the top and at the bottom, there are hopeless tragedies.
(a) Mrs. L., a married daughter of the deceased, said the old couple occupied a back room for which they paid 1s. 6d. a week.
The Coroner. Have the old people enough to live on?
Witness. Father could not work, and mother sold matches and laces to keep things going as best she could, but, of course, she could not earn more than about 3s. a week.
The Coroner. Then she cannot have had enough to eat, as after paying rent this old couple have only had 1s. 6d. a week to live on, a most awful thing to contemplate.
Witness. No, I don’t think she did have enough to eat, and she had been very bad in health also. Poor old mother used to work very hard for years at the wash-tub, but her strength failed her at the last; but she battled on to keep dad.
The Medical Officer said death was primarily due to pneumonia and pleurisy.
The Coroner. Is it a case of want?
Witness. Yes.
The Coroner. Can I class it in my report as a death from starvation?
Witness. Yes.
The Coroner. It is a pitiful story and one that is getting all too frequent.
The jury returned a verdict of “Death from starvation.”
(b) xxx,000 a year and money accumulating. At first the enjoyment of the pleasures which money can give. The money continued to accumulate. Dawning realisation that it did not mean happiness, that it did not mean even health, and that affection and gratitude cannot be bought. The money still accumulating. All wants, rational and irrational, satisfied: the starting of peculiar fads, capricious gifts, fantastic charities. The money still accumulating. Ennui, disillusionment, gradual exhaustion and depression. Recourse had to some novel form of excitement; refuge taken in stimulants. The money still accumulating, but slowly choking. Despair, complete demoralisation, and at last welcome death. The money still accumulating, to drag down some heir and claim another victim.
Let us see how the two sorts of crowds have impressed two writers.
“What struck every observant delegate was the utter blankness of the faces that looked up at us from the pavement or down on us from the windows, with scarcely enough capacity for human interest to wonder who we were and what we wanted. Never a sign of humour. Stooped shoulders, hollow chests, ash-coloured faces, lightless eyes, and, ghastliest of all, mouths with bloodless gums and only here and there a useful tooth. Literally hundreds of women between seventeen and seventy crowded close to our motor-cars that day, and the marks were on them all.”30
And:
“Yours is the three hundredth carriage in this row that blocks the road for half a mile. In the two hundred and ninety-nine that came before the four hundred that come after you are sitting, too, with your face before you unseeing eyes. Resented while you gathered being; brought into the world with the most distinguished skill; remembered by your mother when the whim came to her; taught to believe that life consists in caring for your clean, well-nourished body and your manner that nothing usual can disturb; taught to regard Society as the little ring of men and women that you see, and to feel your business is to know the next thing that you want and get it given you; you have never had a chance. Sitting there in your seven hundred carriages you are blind—in heart and soul and voice and walk—the blindest creatures in the world ... and you are charming to us who, like your footman, cannot see the label ‘Blind.’ The cut of your gown is perfect, the dressing of your hair the latest, the trimming of your hat later still; your tricks of speech the very thing; you droop your eyelids to the life, you have not too much powder; it is a lesson in grace to see you hold your parasol. The doll of Nature! So since you were born; so until you die!”31
If the suggested volume, The Life and Leisure of some People, or Riches: a Study of Town Life is ever written, any comment on the carefully tabulated investigations would be quite unnecessary. As in the case of the books on Poverty, the bare statement of facts is eloquent enough by itself. Mr. Rowntree concludes his book with this pregnant phrase:
“That in this land of abounding wealth, during a time of, perhaps, unexampled prosperity, probably more than a quarter of the population are living in poverty is a fact that may well cause great searchings of heart.”
This might be paraphrased:
“That in this land, where more than a quarter of the population are living in poverty, the abounding wealth of the country should be retained by a comparatively small number of people, who squander their riches in a way that brings no happiness to themselves and inflicts misery and hardships on others, is a fact that may well cause great searchings of heart.”
