Chapter: THE WOMEN'S INDUSTRIAL HOME, HACKNEY

This Home is one of much the same class as that which I have just
described. It has accommodation for forty-eight girls, of whom over
1,000 have passed through the Institution, where they are generally
kept for a period of six months. Most of the young women in the Home
when I visited it had been thieves. One, who was twenty-seven years of
age, had stolen ever since she was twelve, and the lady in charge told
me that when she came to them everything she had on her, and almost
all the articles in her trunk were the property of former mistresses.

In answer to my questions, Commissioner Cox informed me that the
result of their work in this Home was so satisfactory that they
scarcely liked to announce it. They computed, however, that taken on a
three years' test--for the subsequent career of each inmate is
followed for that period--90 per cent of the cases prove to be
permanent moral cures. This, when the previous history of these young
women is considered, may, I think, be accounted a great triumph. No
money contribution is asked or expected in this particular Home.
Indeed, it would not be forthcoming from the class of girls who are
sent or come here to be reformed, many of whom, on entering, are
destitute of underclothing and other necessaries, The needlework which
they do, however, is sold, and helps to pay for the upkeep of the
place.

I asked what was done if any of them refused to work. The answer was
that this very rarely happened, as the women-Officers shared in their
labours, and the girls could not for shame's sake sit idle while their
Officers worked. I visited the room where this sewing was in progress,
and observed that Commissioner Cox, who conducted me, was received
with hearty, and to all appearance, spontaneous clapping of hands,
which seemed to indicate that these poor young women are happy and
contented. The hours of labour kept in the Home are those laid down in
the Factory Acts.

While looking at the work produced by the inmates, I asked
Commissioner Cox if she had anything to say as to the charges of
sweating which are sometimes brought against the Army, and of
underselling in the markets. Her answer was:--

'We do not compete in the markets at all, as we do not make sufficient
articles, and never work for the trade or supply wholesale; we sell
the garments we make one by one by means of our pedlars. It is
necessary that we should do this in order to support our girls. Either
we must manufacture and sell the work, or they must starve.'

Here we have the whole charge of sweating by the Army in a nutshell,
and the answer to it.

In this Home a system has been devised for providing each girl with an
outfit when she leaves. It is managed by means of a kind of deferred
pay, which is increased if she keeps up to the standard of work
required. Thus, gradually, she earns her outfit, and leaves the place
with a box of good clothes. The first thing provided is a pair of
boots, then a suitable box, and lastly, the materials which they make
into clothes.

This house, like all the others, I found to be extremely well
arranged, with properly-ventilated dormitories, and well suited to its
purposes.

 Rivers goes on his last round to say goodbye to his patients before he leaves for his new job in the morning. He is leaving in a blaze of glory, as Willard is finally walking again and both patient and staff credit Rivers with achieving a medical miracle. Rivers goes to say goodbye to Sassoon, who has spent the day with Lady Ottoline Morrell, a well-known pacifist. Sassoon has remained firm in his decision to return to the war, but Rivers is left to wonder whether it was the hospital, and not the war, that has broken Sassoon's spirit. Rivers goes to London, where he finds his lodging suitable. Unfortunately, he is unable to sleep well, as he is kept awake by the sound of guns through the night. He finds his work in the Air Force hospital extremely interesting. Although pilots do have occurrences of nervous breakdowns, they are not nearly so common as they are in the men who man observation balloons. This evidence supports Rivers's theory that it is "prolonged strain, immobility, and helplessness" that causes the mental damage, not sudden shocks in men who were already predisposed to mental illness. Rivers reflects that this discovery might explain the high occurrence of anxiety neuroses in women in peacetime, as their confined lives allow them fewer opportunities for control and constructive action. Rivers feels he must accept an invitation from Dr. Yealland, a well-known London psychiatrist, to visit the National Hospital. Although he is tired, Rivers goes to meet with Dr. Yealland and follow him on his rounds. He watches as Dr. Yealland assumes an arrogant, almost godlike manner, refusing to speak with or take questions from his patients. Rivers notices that many of the patients show signs of depression, and he learns that no work is done to follow up on the patients after they leave the hospital. Dr. Yealland achieves his "miracle" recoveries by using electro-shock therapy on the patients. In one case, a patient named Callan, Yealland has applied very strong electric currents to the patient's neck and throat and has even touched lighted cigarettes to his tongue in an attempt to get him to speak. Because this has not worked, Yealland concludes that some patients just do not want to be cured. Yealland says he will allow Rivers to witness a treatment if he promises not to be a "sympathetic audience.

