f
I
'.fj
■
transferred into this new flexible fundraising format. Bazaars capitalised on their entertainment value, synthesising duty with shopping, so that in Robert Louis Stevenson’s words they gave ‘a direct and emphatic sense of gain’. It was an ideal entertainment for the leisured classes and organisers spared no effort in devising new attractions to create a carnival atmosphere, ‘to make the exercise of charity entertaining in i t s e l f Comhill
Magazine described a typical bazaar in 1861:
the bazaar is held in a large marquee which is surrounded by stalls and gaily decked out with ribbons, wreaths and flags, and covered with merchandise; and numberless young ladies preside at the stalls, dressed in the height of fashion, and never cease to attract public attention to the goods with the most winning, coaxing, insinuating, and, if one may be allowed the expression, wheedling ways.^^®
The German Hospital held its first bazaar in 1848. Dignitaries were invited from Germany and England and the items that were put on sale were collected through donations from across Europe. A subcommittee had been formed in 1846 to plan the bazaar, but the work strained the hospital’s management resources and a special ladies committee had to be appointed in 1847 to help in the final arrangements. The bazaar, initially scheduled for 1847, was postponed until 1848 because the distress in Ireland aroused fears that money might not be f o r t h c o m i n g . T h e governors’ meticulous organisation was not unusual, though the scope of the hospital’s European appeal was indicative of the institution’s ethnic character. Planning was beset with problems and often frustrated by unforeseen obstacles, but in later years the hospital’s bazaars were arranged with greater speed as experience was accumulated. University College Hospital’s bazaar in 1886, after three decades of experience, took only four months to organise, though the Bazaar committee met nearly every week.^*^ Plans quickly escalated. To the 135 foot run of stalls draped in yellow and white and banners proclaiming ‘Success
R.L.Stevenson, Charily Bazaar: An Allegorical Dialogue (1868).
Comhill Magazine, 4 (1861), 339
GH Archive, Bazaar Committee, Ha/68/2/1.
to the University Hospital’, marionettes, a Punch and Judy show, fortune tellers, light refreshments, artistic performances by the College’s Amateur Dramatics Society, and a fish pond were added. Police were placed inside and outside to maintain order, though the entrance fee of five shillings on the first two days ensured that only the most respectable gained a d m i s s i o n . T h e governors of the German Hospital felt that such an atmosphere was unwise and solo performers were rejected as ‘they would too greatly attract the attention of the public and consequently stop the progress of the sale’.^*"^ Bazaars were after all designed to raise money, not solely to provide charitable entertainment, as this was merely a means to an end.
The financial rewards were invariably worth the organisational effort: in 1898 the London’s Press Bazaar added some £12,000 to the hospital’s ailing funds and the German Hospital’s 1867 bazaar was important in removing the debt that had burdened the institution since rebuilding. In combining commerce with amusement, charity bazaars were popular, fashionable and highly profitable. More time was devoted to the organisation of these bazaars than to the hospitals’ day-to-day management and in comparison the arrangements for the annual dinner seemed trivial. Royal and aristocratic patronage gave these events a patina of respectability and provided an important attraction in themselves. Strenuous efforts were made to have a member of the aristocracy open the bazaar, though for London hospitals, with their high profile and aristocratic support, this was less of a problem than for smaller charities. At the German Hospital this was utilised to the full and personal contacts created a network of support that extended across Europe. However, the organisation and publicity needed ensured that though bazaars were a regular and increasing feature of the benevolent economy, for individual institutions they remained a periodic spectacle. Given philanthropy’s competitive nature, it was often easier to organise a charitable ball or dinner for the appeal could be directed to existing supporters, leaving bazaars as an important but infrequent source of funding.
UCH Archive, Subconunittee Minutes, A 1/5/1: Five shillings seems to have been a standard entrance fee for bazaars, helping to maximise the hospitals’ income even if nothing was bought, though this was difficult in itself as ‘customers’ were assailed from every quarter and stall holders were not above a certain element of dishonesty.
GH Archive, Bazaar Committee, A/Ha/68/2/2.
Collections provided a more frequent source of charitable income. Governors aimed to stimulate collections by placing collection boxes in the hospital and throughout London. Boxes in outpatients’ departments generated much interest as it was believed that they reflected contributions from the grateful and deserving poor. By 1888 the Royal Chest Hospital had some 1,027 boxes in London, but they raised little m o n e y . O u t s i d e the hospital, individuals arranged collections and plates were passed around at meetings and Mrs Gladstone even extended this to her breakfast parties. Most were on a more organised basis. Although governors did not adopt the door-to-door techniques of the Bible Society, they did try to encourage collections, especially at a local level. Contemporaries disapproved of noisy street collections, but the governors of the Royal Chest Hospital had no qualms in taking money collected in the local public houses.
The London and University College Hospital attempted to organise these collections on a systematic basis. Unlike the Metropolitan Hospital Sunday Fund and Metropolitan Hospital Saturday Fund (discussed below), these collections were highly localised and limited to the support of one hospital. The first systematic collection scheme was started in 1868 in Whitechapel to aid the London. In April, an independent organisation called the People’s Five Shillings Subscription Fund started to make inquiries about the admissions’ rights that could be given to ‘small’ subscribers. The governors agreed to allow three outpatient admissions for every annual subscription of one guinea from the organisation.^^* The Fund aimed to allow those ‘who may come to the Hospital for Medical or Surgical aid’ to ‘subscribe directly through their Firms or their Clubs to the maintenance of the Institution’ and it set about organising collections in the surrounding factories and firms and among local working-class organisations.^*^ The People’s Subscription Fund became a semi-autonomous body with an organisation separate from the hospital, though the governors paid the collector 25 shillings per week.^^ At
^*^ RCH Archive, Finance Committee, A5/1.
'*^ RCH Archive, Finance Committee, A5/1.
'** LH Archive, House Committee, A/5/34.
^*^ London Hospital 1899 Annual Report, 12.
first the amounts raised were small, but after 1878 the Fund’s contributions began to increase, mirroring the rising popularity and success of the Saturday Fund. The governors, however, found the work of the Fund ‘satisfactory’ and made few references to it in their minutes, though they did acknowledge its support in their annual reports.
University College Hospital developed a similar scheme in 1877, but here the governors and chiefly Nixon, the hospital’s secretary, retained the guiding influence. Nixon’s recommendations to the governors in November 1877 presented the scheme as one that would encourage self-help, allowing workers to contribute towards the cost of their own future medical care.^^^ The People’s Contribution Fund aimed to facilitate the ‘appointment of annual and life governors amongst the tradesmen and the working classes, in order to place in their own hands the facilities for obtaining hospital treatment’. It also hoped to ‘increase the annual income of the charity, by creating an interest in the prosperity of the hospital amongst those for whose benefit it is i n t e n d e d A n altruistic rhetoric did not conceal a desire to reduce social tension. The intention behind the Fund was purely financial, an opportunity carefully controlled by the governors to raise money from the working classes that did not offend the subscription rights of middle-class supporters. Local groups under middle-class leadership were set up throughout London to stimulate working-class contributions and collection boxes were widely distributed. No contribution was too small and the Fund proved highly successful. Attempts to organise such schemes at a metropolitan level produced a new type of giving that partially redefined the role of individual benevolence.
The foundation of the Metropolitan Hospital Sunday Fund in 1873 signified a new departure in hospital funding, establishing the first in a series of benevolent funds that culminated in the Prince of Wales Hospital Fund.’^^ The Sunday Fund set the pattern for others to follow. Of these the Saturday Fund proved the most successful, rivalling the Sunday Fund; others like the Football Fund never progressed beyond the planning stage. Together they represented the most innovative source of hospital funding and a new form of benevolence through ‘indirect’ philanthropy, where the individual ceded the right to
UCH Archive, General Committee, A 1/2/4.
BMJ, 1 (1880), 903.
193
control the destination of the gift to an investigating organisation. The work of the Saturday Fund is discussed in the following chapter along with the funds’ financial contribution to the London hospitals, but to illustrate the aims and ambitions behind the benevolent funds the Sunday Fund is explained here.
The Sunday Fund was not unique as it fitted within an existing pattern of charitable societies and provincial collecting schemes. Despite the rival claims of the unknown Mr Henn, the movement was inspired by Thomas Barber Wright’s actions in B i r m i n g h a m . A s proprietor of the Midland Counties Herald he used the paper to launch a public fund in 1859 to aid the Birmingham General H o s p i t a l . W r i g h t ’s scheme was pioneering in that he subtly changed the nature and intention of the appeal. The idea was simple: one Sunday a year was to be set aside to collect money from every place of worship in the locality. The income raised would then be distributed according to the ‘needs and merits’ of the local medical char i t i e s . Sympat het i c clergy had traditionally dedicated church collections to individual hospitals, but under a fund these contributions were redirected away from a single institution to an organisation that coordinated sermons, universalised support, and redistributed collections as a solution to the medical charities’ perceived financial difficulties. The pulpit was coopted to preach the gospel of hospital funding, systematically publicising medical relief to motivate benevolence. It was envisaged that a fund would encourage reform, as distribution was to be placed in the hands of a scrutinising committee that would identify any problems and penalise hospitals accordingly. Hospitals, it was hoped, would reform, if only to improve the size of their awards.
James Wakley, as editor of the Lancet, recognised in the Birmingham scheme a system through which the hospitals’ endemic financial crisis could be resolved within a framework that encouraged a wider reforming imperative. From 1869 he called for the national extension of the Birmingham movement, stressing the moral benefits of community action and the practical advantages of ensuring that hospitals remained adequately funded. Donations to such a fund, it was argued, removed the sick poor from
Hospital, 13 October 1894, 33.
Hospital, 17 November 1888, 99.
those ‘permanently chargeable on the poor rates’ by guaranteeing effective hospital treatment and a quick return to work, playing on one of the hospital’s main attractions/^^ Wakley’s agitation initially had no immediate impact in London, but spurred further provincial collections. When representatives from the London hospitals finally met they were uncertain and inclined to believe that a fund would ‘lead to a falling-off in annual subscriptions and dinner collections’.^^® Hospitals jealously guarded their independence and it was on these grounds that University College Hospital refused to send a representative to the first conference to discuss a metropolitan fund in 1870.*^^ No governor was prepared to propose a plan that would potentially benefit another institution over his own.
It was widely doubted that Christianity could make such a firm commitment when London faced spiritual destitution. An increased awareness of social inequality, a growing desire to be free from puritan restraints, and a revulsion against orthodox theology were prompting a transformation in religion. Simultaneously, there was a fall in the size of congregations and many felt that the church itself needed reforming before religion could help the h o s p i t a l . H o w e v e r , congregations did offer their support, whether enthusiastically or not, and in doing so ensured the Sunday Fund’s success. This can be explained by the moves churches and chapels made to secularise their appeal. They moved into the community and reoriented recreation on moral grounds, through leisure activities, clubs and associations in which the religious meaning was subverted by the need to hold the congregation together, as shown by Yeo in his study of Reading.^®^ The Sunday Fund was part of this attempt to place organised religion on a new and popular footing. Church and chapel benefited by associating themselves with practical benevolence in an ‘irreverent age’ and the Fund acted as an additional means of involving the church in the neighbourhood while upholding the sanctity of the sabbath for the good
Lancet, 2 (1869), 781.
Lancet, 1 (1872), 624.
UCH Archive, General Committee, A 1/2/3.
H.McLeod, Class and Religion in the Late Victorian City (1974), 285.
See Yeo, Religion and Voluntary Organisation in Crisis and B.Harrison, ‘Religion and Recreation in Nineteenth Century England’, Past and Present, 38 (1967).
of the c o m m u n i t y I t replaced the active citizen’s initiative with a church-sponsored charity.
The Fund served another purpose for church and chapel. According to Kent, Anglicanism was moving towards a common identity with other religious institutions.^®^ The Fund could be projected by more enlightened ministers as a means of establishing interdenominational cooperation to counter the heated debates within Christianity that threatened the social power of religion. Benevolent societies such as the British and Foreign Bible Society had been used to create a consensus for religious cooperation, but charity to the sick poor had a wider a p p e a l . I t was uncomplicated, fitted within established Christian doctrines, and was easy to support. By common association in a benevolent fund without political connotations and sympathetic to all denominations, cooperation could be seen as an attempt to jettison differences and provide a modicum of ecumenical collaboration against one of society’s more pressing problems.
How much these views influenced the participating congregations is uncertain. Sir Sydney Waterlow, then Lord Mayor of London, treasurer of St.Bartholomew’s and major philanthropist, certainly believed that part of the motivation behind the Fund was to ‘help people to believe that, though there were religious differences, they had still a common ground of action and a common object which all might promote’. W a t e r l o w was ideally placed to express this conviction.^®^ Wakley provided the journalistic support, but it was Waterlow who overcame hospitals’ practical opposition and established the movement in London.
^®^ Hospital, 21 January 1893, 260.
^®^ J.Kent, ‘The Role of Religion in the Cultural Structure of the Late Victorian City’,
Transactions o f the Royal Historical Society, 23 (1973), 159; R. Currie, Methodism Divided
(1968), 176-85.
^®^ See R.H.Martin, Evangelicals United: Ecumenical Stirrings in Pre-Victorian Britain
1795-1830 (1983).
^®^ Times, 17 January 1873, 8; Morris, Class, Sect and Party argues that voluntary
organisations served as a class unifier and even when divided on religious grounds they created parallel organisations which provided common experiences.
^®^ See G.Smalley, The Life o f Sir Sydney H Waterlow (1909) for an account of Waterlow’s life.
It was not until November 1872 that a meeting of hospital representatives was convened. This established a provisional committee to test the practicality of found a fund in London. By this point a consensus had started to develop as governors became aware that their increasingly insecure economic position was not a temporary phenomenon. Waterlow’s view that the movement ‘had not heard a single objection against it’ was, however, clearly e r r oneous . Cons i der a bl e animosity surrounded these early efforts and Waterlow worked tirelessly to organise an administration committee, which was finally established in January 1873. The provisional committee’s discussions and Waterlow’s control established in advance the basic organisational principles. Hospital governors were consulted, but much to the BM T^ annoyance the medical profession was excluded, a reflection of doctors’ marginal role in the debate over hospital funding. The members of the committee, who were among London’s leading financiers, businessmen, politicians and philanthropists ensured that organisation was on strict commercial grounds. 250 invitations were issued to the clergy for a conference on 16 January 1873 to launch the Fund and on the Reverend Dr Brook’s suggestion each minister was asked to invite a layman to avoid clerical dominance.^°^ The conference was a success and endorsed all of the provisional committee’s plans, reappointing it as a management committee to organise the first collection.^°^ A few West End parishes complained that the administrative task was too large, while other parishes feared for their general collections and the Bishop of London made last minute recommendations to postpone the collection until the following year. The Fund, however, had already set the date for the first collection and was determined not to make any alterations.^^®
The first collection was not as impressive as the organisers had envisaged, raising £27,700, a sum far below the Spectator's estimate of £80,000. The result was nevertheless heralded as a triumph. The Times congratulated the Fund, but the Lancet was disappointed. It continued to campaign ardently for the movement, establishing a special
^ Times, 11 January 1873, 6.
Times, 11 January 1873, 6.
Times, 17 January 1873, 8.
supplement in 1886 to publicise the Fund, but the anticipated collection of £50,000 per annum proved elusive, and the journal periodically lamented that more could not be