Chapter 5: My First Case.
Chapter 5: My First Case.
"I have been wild and wayward, But you'll forgive me now."
"Am not I nobler through thy love?"
TENNYSON.
MANY OF MY readers will be asking that I shall pass as soon as possible from the general description of my work to narrate some particulars as to its effect on individual cases. And I will, therefore, give some account of my first successful case-one on which I expended a good deal of thought, and the outcome of which was a great encouragement. It gave me indeed a new conception of the possibilities of my work at the prison gate.
One morning, in the early days of my new enterprise, there were only two or three prisoners waiting for discharge, one of whom was very unpromising in his appearance. He had evidently been a tramp, his garments were unusually ragged, and his appearance disreputable and unkempt. The rents in his trousers were scarcely drawn together by the wide cross-stitches; his boots would have taken in water-at the toe and let it out at the heel; his clothes hardly covered him. I think I can see now his dejected, miserable look.
"Will you come to the coffee-house?" said I. "Yes," was the almost sullen reply.
And I certainly had never before trodden that Via Dolorosa with such a ragged and wretched companion.
When we reached the coffee-house, I discovered, after the warm food had exerted its wonted thawing influence, that he had been a Leicester workman years before, had then entered the army, but on his discharge had taken to drunken habits, and had gradually reduced himself to the very lowest level, associating with tramps and outcasts.
And here I would stay for a moment to enter my protest against the present short-service system in vogue in our British Army, which attracts into its ranks young men at the very time when they should be perfecting themselves at their trade, discharging them when they are stilI in early manhood. In many cases they are then disinclined to settle to any fixed manual labour; and indeed unable to compete beside the men of their own age with whom they commenced life, but who have been steadily perfecting themselves in their handicrafts, whilst their soldier companions have lost the dexterity which can only come by steady application when hand and eye are young and pliable. What numbers of soldiers there are in the great ranks of the unemployed and the vagrant classes! You can easily detect them by their military bearing and salute, though the forms which bore the regimentals of their country are habited in rags.
Something attracted me to this man, who was yet in early manhood, and I felt strongly disposed to help him back to respectability.
In all such cases, the first step was the signing of the pledge-card, of which we always kept a large supply at hand, with plenty of blue ribbon, in case of need. In nine cases out of ten, drink had been the ultimate cause of landing my poor friends in gaol. It was sometimes lamentable in the morning to run the eye through the warrants of discharge, or down the list made in one's own book for guidance in dealing with the specific cases, and see as the repeated description of their crime, "drunk," "drunk and disorderly," "drunk and assault." Very often men and women would tell me that they had no remembrance of committing the crime with which they had been charged, and had only awoke from a kind of stupor to find themselves in the cell of the police station. The fact being, I often fancied, that the stuff which they took was neither good beer nor unadulterated spirits, but in many cases vile decoctions, which utterly poisoned the system, and perverted the working of the brain. In these cases, and indeed in all, the first great effort was always in the direction of pledge-signing.
I know that many differ from me in this, and urge that we should in each case begin with the message of the Gospel. I hope that this was never far away from my thoughts or lips; but I have always found that one's message falls flat until men are convinced of their sins, and made willing to confess and forsake them. Men cannot believe God or accept the Gospel of His love on the one hand, so long as they are concealing or clinging to sin on the other. It is of course clear that the sinner cannot deliver himself from the bondage of sin; he needs for this the Great High Priest and Saviour; but he must feel and acknowledge and be willing to forsake his sin before the message of salvation can become to him the power of God unto salvation. The signing of the pledge, in numberless cases, in the name of God, was a confession and avowal of sinnership on the part of some sin-cursed soul, and an expression of desire for deliverance-yea, more, a pledging of the will on God's side in this matter; whilst it is undeniable that in hundreds of instances the resolution, being kept in prayer and dependence on the Divine help, has led to a new and blessed life. When the will is yielded, God's Spirit can always begin His blessed work of deliverance and salvation.
No effort was therefore spared to induce discharged prisoners to sign the pledge. In many cases they had themselves seen the results of their folly, and came out of gaol determined never again to touch intoxicating liquor. In other cases the most earnest entreaties were obdurately and determinedly resisted; and this was particularly the case when evil companions were lurking about the door of the coffee-house, prepared to escort their "pal" to some neighbouring public-house. But often our persuasions won the day, especially being supported by the fact that in prison the men had been able to exist, had done their work quite comfortably without the drink, and had really enjoyed better health than before. In these respects prison-life is a perfect revelation to many men, showing how much happier and easier life may be without yielding to inveterate appetite. Indeed, there are times in which incarceration is the only way by which these evil habits may be broken off, and a man or woman disentangled from their old companions. Frequently when a wife or mother has come to tell me of the conviction of husband or son, I have astonished and comforted them by recounting the many instances in which the solitude of the prison-cell has led to the disillusioning and deliverance of those who had come under my care. This is especially the case with the first experience of the prison-cell; after that, and when it has been twice or thrice repeated, the heart becomes stubborn and obdurate, and the character degraded rather than elevated. This is particularly the case with women.
The man of whom I am writing did not need much persuasion, and signed the pledge-card with some show of resolution. He told me his former trade; though it seemed likely that his hands would be long in recovering the skill they had once possessed, and which was almost essential to enable him to hold his own with other workmen.
In the meanwhile, and to give me time to test him, and to look about for a situation, I took him to a small but respectable men's lodging-house, where I knew he would be shielded from many of the temptations which are so intimately connected with the common lodging-house system.
If anyone desires to save men or to arrest the process of deterioration in them, they must deliver them from the ordinary common lodging-house. Perhaps it will be well to reserve the further consideration of this matter for a separate chapter. In the meantime, let me advise those who are working in these directions to establish common lodging-houses of their own, which, under proper management, should pay their own expenses.
My protégé went on very well for some days, keeping steadily to his pledge; and I was able, through the kindness of a friendly manufacturer, to obtain him employment. And here I must stay for a moment to acknowledge the kindness which I invariably received from the Leicester manufacturers. I often had to trouble them, in the midst of busy mornings, with requests that they would give some discharged prisoner a second chance. I cannot recall a case in which I did not receive a courteous hearing; and very often men were taken on again whose places had been filled up, or vacancies were made to give some fallen man a berth. Often if we met in the streets these business men would stay to have a few moments' talk about some such case, regretting a relapse, or speaking kindly and hopefully of a good promise being abundantly realized.
Of course, I had to rig out my poor friend with more decent clothes. In after-days this was rendered more easy by the parcels of cast-off clothes with which the Leicester philanthropic public supplied me; but at that stage of my work I had to obtain them from second-hand salesmen, with whom I came into interesting relations, which experience might make a story of itself. One or two of these men became really interested in the work for its own sake.
It is interesting to realize how much charitable feeling is latent in most hearts, waiting to be elicited and drawn forth in other ways than in the mere gifts of money. Many people are rendering but little help to their fellows, not because they will not, but that they do not know how to begin. Once show them how they may become interested in others, they will gladly embrace the opportunity, and find a new zest in life, to be henceforth gratefully connected with the agent or cause that first evoked it.
One day, when my case was getting somewhat out of hand, because he was able to save a little out of his earnings towards procuring himself another suit of clothes and other little necessaries, I had a longer talk with him than usual. It is of the utmost importance in dealing with such men to see them pretty often, to show that you are still interested, and to speak encouraging and helpful words. There is a sense in which the words of a good man are spirit and life, and supply nutriment on which the soul feeds. It was my endeavour to come in contact with these cases as frequently as possible; and in the present instance, when my hands were less full, I could do more than subsequently.
In the course of our talk, and pitying his loneliness, for he seemed to have no companions to help him in the new path he was treading with some difficulty, I said:
"Haven't you any people belonging to you?"
"No, sir," was the reply; "they are all dead or gone away."
"But is there no one that cares for you, or for whom you care?"
"Well, sir," said he, "I'll tell you. There is a girl with whom I used to keep company-as nice a girl as you ever set eyes on; but she wouldn't be likely to look at me now." And he looked rather ruefully down at his clothes.
"Well," said I, "there's no telling. These women are wonderful creatures. I've known them stick to a man when he has lost all self-respect. There's no accounting for a woman's love."
"Do you think so?" he said, wistfully.
"Now," I replied, "if you like, I'll go and see this girl for you. You see you needn't be jealous of me. And I will find out, if I can, whether she still thinks kindly of you. And then I'll let you know, and you can do as you like."
He seemed very relieved, and thanked me kindly. And I left him, rejoiced to be on this new track, because human love is so often a revelation of the love of God; and if only you can awaken in a man's heart the thought that some one cares for him, you will probably lead him to desire to be worthy of that care, and to rise to it.
It seems but yesterday morning that I found myself traversing a respectable street in an artizans' quarter, and knocking at a door half way down. My summons was replied to by a respectable young woman, and I found that it was her father's house. I gave my name, and was admitted into the little front best-room. It was furnished like so many others which it was my privilege to visit in Leicester, with the huge traditional Bible on the round mahogany table, and the little mirror over the mantelpiece, whilst the backs of the horse-hair chairs were covered with the usual array of white antimacassars. And there the lady-fair stood before me, her sleeves tucked up, and her bare arms steaming with the results of the early morning wash-tub.
"Ah," thought I, "if you are the one I am in search of, you'll do; for the girl who will be well through with her washing in her father's house so early in the day is the one to make a good wife for any man."
To my delight I found that her name was the one her quondam lover had given me, and I proceeded on my delicate investigations. I cannot disclose here quite the way in which I prosecuted them. I think I learnt more by the flush on the cheek, the evident interest, the eager look, than by actual words; and after a little further conversation left the house, sure that the love had not died out of that woman's heart, and that she was still true to him who had woke it years before.
I told my friend the result of my interview. He was very pleased. I also helped him to get clothes more becoming a wooer; and some little time after I was delighted to meet the two, one Sunday afternoon, walking out together. I do not know whether they saw me; but I looked the other way, not wishing to intrude on their new-found joy, or to identify myself with it. It was better to let them feel that it was their own procuring, and God's good gift.
He had before this commenced to attend the Sunday Evening Service in Melbourne Hall. She was wise enough to encourage him in this, and began to attend there with him. Eventually they both found the Saviour, or, better, were found of Him. What shall I not say of the free and open seat system, which enables such people to come freely in; or of the advantage of a crowd, amid which those are able to conceal themselves who would shrink from being conducted through long aisles to some half-filled seat, where their dress or behaviour might excite unkind remarks?
Some twelve months passed, and my friend came to me under the pressure of that nervousness in which most men come to their clergyman or minister once in their life. I immediately guessed the object of his errand; asked the place and time, and engaged to marry the happy couple, who had, through their united exertions, saved money enough to furnish a cosy little home. I remember that wedding, and how a policeman, who had known him in earlier and sadder days, stood as his best man. It was the first wedding of that sort, though, thank God, not the last. And many a time beside have I conducted a kind of second wedding in the coffee-house for those who had broken or strained to breaking their marriage bonds.
It was a pleasure to visit that little home. What a welcome I got there! How profuse were the expressions of gratitude! How regular their attendance at God's house! How evident their growth! And just before I left Leicester he approached me with the request that they should be permitted to sit at the table of the Lord.
So all comes back to me again, as I write, and stirs again the old love for this direct and personal work among the lapsed. I seem now to be called to somewhat other work; but my heart clings to the memory of those dear and blessed days at Leicester prison-gate. Their memories will be green in my heart till death. And my earnest advice to all young ministers is-to mix freely with the people; to visit systematically and widely; to study men as well as books; to converse with all classes and conditions of men: always on the alert to learn from some fresh pages of the heart opened to the view of the sympathetic soul.