Crime -- England -- London; Police -- England -- London; Poor -- England -- London
But I turn gladly--nay, eagerly--to another side of the question; for
all men are not made on the same lines as the opulent bookie, for which
we have need to be thankful. Among some of the men who, driven almost
distraught by the misery they had endured--and only those who have to
endure it can tell how great that misery is--have applied for separation
orders on account of their wives' habitual drunkenness, I have met some
that shone resplendent amid the moral darkness so often connected with
police-court cases.
A sorrowful-faced old man, nearly seventy years of age, applied to the
magistrate for advice. His wife for some years had been giving way
constantly to drink. His home was ruined; he was in debt. He produced a
bundle of pawn-tickets, etc. "Have you any sons and daughters? Cannot
they influence her?" "They are married, and are all abroad. They cannot
help me; but they send me money when I require any. They want me to go
to them, but I cannot leave her." "Do you earn any money?" "Oh yes!
quite sufficient to keep us. I have had a good place for forty years."
"Well," said the magistrate, "I cannot advise you, but you can have a
summons against her for habitual drunkenness. Will you have one?" "Yes,
sir," said the bewildered old man. The summons was served upon the wife,
and in due time they appeared before the court.
A pathetic couple they were; neither of them appeared to exactly
understand why they were there. He knew that he had to prove his wife's
drunkenness, and he did it simply enough. It was the old, old story of
drink, neglect, waste, and dirt--no food provided, no house made tidy,
no beds made, no washing of clothes. That was the negative side. The
pawnings and debts, and cuts and wounds she had received from falling,
formed the positive.
The old woman denied nothing, but said it was all true. When asked for
her defence, she could only reiterate: "He's been very good to me; he's
been very good to me." When asked about his means, the old man said he
thought that he could allow his wife 10s. a week. The magistrate thought
that 7s. was as much as he could afford, and made the order accordingly.
The couple waited in court till the separate orders were delivered to
them, and then tremblingly rose to go, he to his lonely home and she to
----. I accompanied them into the streets, and said to the old woman:
"Where are you going to live?" She replied: "I am going home." "But you
are separated. The magistrate has given your husband an order which says
that you must no longer live with him." "Not live with my husband! Where
am I to live, then?" I do not think that either of them understood till
that moment what a separation order meant, for the old man said: "You
can't live anywhere else." Then, turning to me, he said half defiantly:
"I suppose I can take her back home if I like?" "Certainly," I said;
"but you cannot come to the magistrate for another order." "I will never
ask for another. I don't want this"; and he tore it in twain.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account