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 FUNDAMENTALS OF
STRUCTURAL ANALYSIS

5th Edition

Kenneth M. Leet, Chia-Ming Uang, Joel T. Lanning, and Anne M. Gilbert

SOLUTIONS MANUAL

CHAPTER 9:
ANALYSIS OF INDETERMINATE STRUCTURES
BY THE FLEXIBILITY METHOD

9-1
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.1. Compute the reactions, draw the shear and P = 36 kips

moment curves, and locate the point of A B C

maximum deflection for the beam in Figure
P9.1. EI is constant.
9ʹ 6ʹ

P9.1

ΔCO (Use Moment-Area)

1 324 17, 496
ΔCO = (9)´12 =
2 EI EI
See Table A.3
PL3 1(15)3 1125
δCC = = =
3E 3EI EI

Compatibility Equation
17496 1125
ΔC = 0; - + RC =0
EI EI
RC = 15,552 kips
RA = 36 - RC = 20.448k

1 90.72 93,312 (10.563)

θC = - (4.437) +
2 EI EI 2
291.57
θC =
EI

9-2
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.2. For the beam in Figure P9.2, compute the w = 4 kN/m

reactions, draw the shear and moment curves,

and compute the deflection of the hinge at C.
4 A B C
Use E = 29,000 ksi and I = 180 in. .
8m 2m

P9.2

ΣFy = 0: RA + RB - 4(10) = 0 \ RA = 18.5 kN()

æ10 ö
ΣMA = 0: MA + 8RB - 4(10) çç ÷÷ = 0 \ MA = 28kN.m()

( +)
çè 2 ÷ø

Deflection at C
Select RB as the Redundant

M ( x ) = -2 x 2 + 18.5 x - 28
By integration method with boundary conditions
( δ(0) = 0, θ (0) = 0 )
1 æ 2 18.5 2 ö
θ ( x ) = çç- x 3 + x - 28 x ÷÷÷
EI èç 3 2 ø
At support B, θB = 0.00178 rad. ( x = 8 m)
1 æ 8 öæ 3 ö
ΔBO tC/B = (2) çç ÷÷çç ´ 2÷÷ = 0.534 mm
3 çè EI ÷øèç 4 ø÷
Use Moment–Area Method
(Moment-Area Method)
1 æ 200 ö÷
Δ BO = t B/A = (10) çç ÷ (7.5 - 2) ΔC = (2m)(θB ) - tC/B
3 ç
è EI ø÷
ΔC = 3.026 mm ()
1 æ 8 öæ 2 ö
- (2) çç ÷÷÷çç ÷÷÷
3 èç EI øèç 4 ø
3664
= ()
EI
PL3 1(8)3 512
Δ BB = = = ()
3EI 3EI 3EI
Compatibility Equation
Δ BO - δBB RB = 0 Shear
 RB = 21.5 kN ()

Moment

9-3
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.3. Compute the reactions and draw the shear M = 30 kN m

and moment curves for the beam in Figure P9.3.

C
EI is constant. A B
5m 5m

P9.3

Select RC as the Redundant

ΔCO
Use Moment-Area Method
æ 30 ö 1125
ΔCO = tC/A = 5 çç ÷÷ (7.5) = ()
çè EI ø÷ EI
δCC
Use Moment-Area Method
1 æ 10 öæ 20 ö 1000
δCC = tC/A = (10) çç ÷÷çç ÷÷ =
çè EI ÷øèç 3 ø÷ 3EI ( )

2
Compatibility Equation
ΔCO + δCC RC = 0
1125 1000
+ R =0 \ RC = -3.375 kN ()
EI 3EI C
ΣFy = 0 : RA + RC = 0 \ RA = 3.375 kN ()
ΣM A = 0 : M A - 30 -10 RC = 0 \ M A = -3.75kN⋅m ( )
(+ )

Shear

Moment

9-4
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.4. Compute the reactions for the beam in w = 3 kips/ft
Figure P9.4. EI is constant. Use support B as the
redundant. A C
B
7ʹ 7ʹ

P9.4

Selecting By as the redundant, the compatibility equation is:

0 = D BO + δBB X B

Using known relations for the resulting 3 kips/ft

released structure:
MA’ MC’
wL4 300.125 L3 14.292
D BO = = , δBB = = , ΔB = 0 A C
384 EI EI 192 EI EI

Compatibility equation: ΔBO δ BBXB = By

0 = Δ BO + δBB X B = 0

-300.125 14.292
0= + XB
EI EI
X B = By = 21 kips 

From symmetry: Ay = Cy
ΣFy = 0 = -3(14) + 21 + 2 Ay
Ay = C y = 10.5 kips 

The end moments can be determined via superposition:

wL
2 By L
M A = -MC = -
12 8 3 kips/ft
(3)(14)2 (21)(14)
=- + MA= 12.25 kip-ft MC= 12.25 kip-ft
12 8
A C
M A = -12.25 kip ⋅ ft 
By =21 kips
MC = 12.25 kip ⋅ ft 
Ay =10.5 kips Cy =10.5 kips

9-5
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.5. Compute the reactions, draw the shear and M = 60 kip ft

moment curves, and locate the point of A B C

maximum deflection for the beam in
2I I
Figure P9.5. Repeat the computation if I is
constant over the entire length. E is constant. 6ʹ 9ʹ
Express answer in terms of E, I, and L.
P9.5

Case I Variable EI
Use Moment-Area to Compute deflections
ΔCO = tC/A
30 60
ΔCO = ´6(12) + ´ 9(4.5)
EI EI
4590
ΔCO =
EI
Select RC as the Redundant
1 æ9ö 4.5
δCC = 9 çç ÷÷´6 + ´6(9 + 3)
2 çè EI ÷ø EI
1 3
+ (6) (9 + 4)
2 EI
684
δCC =
EI
Compatibility equation
ΔC = 0 = ΔCC + δCC RC
4590 684
O= + R
EI EI C
RC = -6.71kips 
M A = 60 - 6.71´15¢ = 40.65 ft ⋅ kips
RA = 6.71 kips 

Case II Constant EI

This example shows that increasing the stiffness of an indeterminate structure in the region between points A & B
produces a 35% increase in the moment at support A.

9-6
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No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.6. Compute the reactions and draw the shear 15 kips 15 kips
and moment curves for the beam in Figure P9.6.
EI is constant. A B C

6ʹ 12ʹ 12ʹ 6ʹ

P9.6

Using Moment-Area determine Δ BO

æ 90 ö 1 æ 90 ö
Δ BO = t AB = 12 çç ÷÷÷ (12) + 6 çç ÷÷÷ 4
è EI ø 2 è EI ø
-14,040
Δ BO =
EI
PL3
δBB = See Figure 9.3
48EI
1k (36)3 972
δBB = =
48EI EI

Compatibility Equation
ΔB = 0
Δ BO + δBB X B = 0
14,040 972
- + X =0
EI EI B
X B = 14.444

9-7
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.7. Recompute the reactions, draw the shear 15 kips 15 kips
and moment curves for the beam in Figure P9.6
if support B settles by 1.5 in.. Check and A B C
compare your answer to that obtained using
RISA-2D, and compare the change in reaction
when B settles by 0.75 in., 3.0 in. What do you
observe? 6ʹ 12ʹ 12ʹ 6ʹ

P9.6

(Assume E = 29,000 ksi and I = 100 in.4)

Selecting B as the redundant, the compatibility equation is:
Δ BO + δBB X B = Δ B

-Pa -15(6) -14,040

Δ BO = (3L2 - 4 a 2 ) = (3(36)2 - 4(6)2 ) =
24 EI 24 EI EI
(1) L3 363 972
δBB = = = 15 kips 15 kips
48EI 48EI EI
A C
Therefore:
-1.5 = Δ BO + δBB X B Ay =9.1
ΔBO
δ BBXB = By Cy =9.1
æ -14,040 972 ÷ö
-1.5 = ççç + X ÷1, 728 9.1
EI B ÷ø
5.9
è EI Shear (kips)
-1.5 + 8.37
XB =
0.58 -5.9 -9.1
X B = By = 11.8 kips
54.4 54.4
From symmetry: Ay = Cy Moment (kip-ft)
-16.7
ΣFy = 0 = -2(15) + 11.8 + 2 Ay
16
Ay = C y = 9.1 kips 
14 13.2
Reaction Magnitude (kips)

By 11.8
12
10.4
10 9.1
Using RISA to study the effect of settlement on the reactions: 8.4
8 9.2
As the settlement of B increases By decreases Ay = Cy
while Ay and Cy increase. 6

4
0 1 2 3 4
Settlement of Support B (in.)

9-8
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.8. Determine the reactions for the beam in 0.003 rad
Figure P9.8. When the uniform load is applied, w = 4 kips/ft
the fixed support rotates clockwise 0.003 rad
and support B settles 0.3 in. Given: E = 30,000 A
2 4 C
kips/in. , I = 240 in. .
B
0.3ʺ
8ʹ 2ʹ

P9.8

Using Moment-Area determine Δ BO

RA + RB - 4 ´10 = 0
RA = 40 - 21.15 = 18.85
M A = 4 ´10 ´ 5 - 21.15´8
10 200 M A = 30.8 kip ⋅ ft
Δ BO = t BA = ´ (7.2 - 2)
3 EI
1æ 8ö 2
- çç2 ´ ÷÷´
ç
3 è EI ÷ø 4 I = 240 in 4 , E = 30,000 kips / in 2
3664 3664 (1728)
= = ´ = 0.879 ¢¢  Select RB as the Redundant
EI 30,000 240
PL3 1k (83 ) 512(1728)
δBB = = =
3EI 3EI 3´39000 ´ 240
δBB = 0.041k 
δROT = 0.003(8´12) = 0.288¢¢
Gap: Opens = .879 + 0.288
= 1.167k
Support Move = -.3
Gap = 0.867k
0.867
RB = = 21.15 kips
δBB = .041

9-9
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.9. (a) Recompute the reactions, draw the 0.003 rad
shear and moment curves for the beam in w = 4 kips/ft
Figure P9.8 if segment AB has 1.5I. (b) Using
RISA-2D, recompute the reactions and generate A
C
the shear and moment curves when segment AB
B
has 2EI. (c) Repeat (b) if segment AB has 2.5EI. 0.3ʺ
8ʹ 2ʹ

P9.8

E = 30,000 ksi and I = 240 in.4

Selecting By as the redundant, the compatibility 0.003 rad
equation is:
A
(Δ BS + ΔBO ) + δBB X B = ΔB Δ BS

Δ BS = 0.003(8)12 = 0.288 in. B

3
8 113.78
δBB = =
3E (1.5 I ) EI δBB
Δ BO = t BA = xAM/EI B C
10(20) 2(8)
AM/EI = - = 661.33
3 3 4 kips/ft
10(20) æç 3 ö 2(8) æ 2 ö÷
ç 10 - 2÷÷ø÷ - çç ÷
3 èç 4 3 èç 4 ø÷
x= = 5.548 ft tBA = Δ BO
661.33 1.5EI
661.33 2446.05 EI
Δ BO = 5.548 = x
1.5EI EI

Therefore: 8 kip-ft

(Δ BS + Δ BO ) + δBB X B = Δ B 200 kip-ft

æ ö
çç-0.288 - 2446.05 (1728)÷÷ + 113.78 (1728) X B = -0.3
çè EI ø÷ EI
X B = By = 21.1 kips 

9-10
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
P9.9. Continued

MA = 31.5 kip-ft 4 kips/ft

C
A B
1.5EI EI
Ay = 18.9 kips
By = 21.1 kips
18.9
8
B
Shear (kips)
A C
-13.1

13.3
2.166 ft

Moment (kip-ft)

-8
-31.5

As I of segment AB increases the moment reaction at A increases while the vertical reaction, By, decreases.

36
33.9
Reaction Magnitude (kips and kip-ft)

34 32.7
31.5
32 30.3
30 MA
28
26
24
22 21.2 21.1 20.9 20.8
By
20
0 1 2 3
Segment AB Moment of Inertia, xI

9-11
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.10. (a) Solve Problem P9.1 for the loading P = 36 kips
shown if support C settles 0.25 in. when the load
is applied. Use moment at support A as the A B C
2
redundant. Given: E = 30,000 kips/in. and
4
I = 320 in. . (b) Using RISA-2D, compare the
4
result if I = 640 in. .
9ʹ 6ʹ
P9.1

36 kips
Selecting Cy as the redundant, C
the compatibility equation is: A ΔC
B
(ΔCS + ΔCO ) + δCC XC = ΔC

153 1125
δCC = = δCC
3EI EI A
ΔCO = tCA = xAM/EI C
1 kip
1 324 17, 496
ΔCO = (6 + 6) 9=
2 EI EI
A B C
4
Therefore, with E = 30,000 ksi and I = 320 in. :
tCA = ΔCO
x
(ΔCS + ΔCO ) + δCC XC = ΔC
æ 17, 496 ö 1125
çç0 -
çè (1728)÷÷÷ + (1728) XC = -0.25
EI ø EI
324 kip-ft
XC = C y = 14.3 kips  MA = 109.2 kip-ft
36 kips
A
Locating maximum deflection, θ = 0: A B
ΔC
1 1 Ay = 21.7 kips
Δθ Ax = 0 = - 109.2(5.032) + 85.9(3.968) + θ=0
2 2
1 Cy = 14.3 kips
+ 14.3x + (85.9 x -14.3x 2 )
2 21.7
8
2
Shear (kips)
12.014 - 12.014 2 - 4(14.590)
-14.3
2
x = 1.37 ft 85.9
Moment (kip-ft)
With I = 640 in.4: Cy = 13.1 kip,
MA = ‒127.8 kip-ft, and x = 4.56 ft. x
-109.2
Δmax at 10.37 ft

9-12
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.11. Assuming that no load acts, compute the P = 36 kips
reactions and draw the shear and moment curves
for the beam in Figure P9.1 if support A settles A B C
0.5 in. and support C settles 0.75 in. Given:
2 4
E = 29,000 kips/in. and I = 150 in. .

9ʹ 6ʹ
P9.1

E = 29,000 ksi, I = 150 m 4

PL3 1(153 )1728

δCC = =
3EI 3´ 29,000 ´150
δCC = 0.447

ΔCO + XC δCC = 0
0.25 + XC 0.447 = 0
XC = 0.559 kips

9-13
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.12. Compute the reactions and draw the 18 kN
w = 4 kN/m
shear and moment curves for the beam in 3m
Figure P9.12. E is constant. A B C
D
2I hinge I

6m 3m 6m

P9.12

Evaluating the integral:

-549
ΔCO = 
EI
Indet to 1st Degree Compute δcc.
6 3 6
æ 2 x ö dx æ 2 x ö dx æ x ö dx
2 2 2
1kN ⋅ δCC = ò çç ÷÷÷ + ç- ÷ + ç ÷
è 3 ø 2 EI ò çè 3 ÷÷ø EI ò çè 3 ÷÷ø EI
Select RC as the Redundant
0 0 0

2 æ x2 ö 1
6
4 x3 x3
δCC = çç ÷÷÷
3 6
+ +
9 çè 3 ø÷0 EI 9 3EI 0 27 EI 0

28
Released structure with Redundant δCC =
EI
Compatibility Equation:
ΔC + RC δCC
ΔCO + RC δCC = 0
599 28
- + RC =0
EI EI
RC = 19.61 kN
Compute Reactions using FBD
Compute RD. Use BCD
Compute ΔCO :
dx + ΣM B = 0 = -19.61´3 + 18´6 - 9 RD
1kN ⋅ ΔCO = Σ ò M E M P
EI RD = 5.463kN
2 æç x ö dx æ 2 ö
6 3
dx
1⋅ ΔCO = ò x ç-6 x - 4 x ⋅ ÷÷÷ + ò çç- x ÷÷÷(6 x ) Shear & Moment Diagrams
3 ç
è 2 ø 2 EI ç 3 ø
è EI
0 0
3
x dx
3
æ 1 ö÷ dx
+ò - (12 x ) + ò çç- ÷ (3 + x )[12( x + 3) -18 x ]
3 EI ç
è 3ø ÷ EI
0 0
6
æ 4 x 2 ö÷ Dx
3
4 x 2 dx
3
dx
ΔCO = ò ççç-4 x 2 - ÷÷ +ò - + ò (-4 x 2 )
0
çè 3 ø÷ 2 EI 0
EI 0
EI
3
dx
+ò 2 x 2 - 6 x - 36
0
EI

9-14
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
P9.13. Compute the reactions and draw the hinge
shear and moment curves for the beam in
Figure P9.13. EI is constant. The bolted web
connection at B may be assumed to act as a A B C
hinge. Use the shear at hinge B as the redundant. L L
Express answer in terms of E, I, L, and w.
P9.13

Compatibility Equation Δ B. REL = 0 Use Shear at Hinge as Redundant

Δ BO + 2δBVB = 0
WL4 EL3
- + [V ] = 0
8EI 3E B
3WL
VB =
16 Load Applied to Released Structure

[ VB ] Unit Value of Redundant Applied to Released

Structure

9-15
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.14. (a) Determine the reactions and draw the w = 2 kips/ft
shear and moment curves for the beam in A B C
Figure P9.14. Given: EI is constant, D
2 4
E = 30,000 kips/in. , and I = 288 in. .
(b) Repeat the computations if, in addition
to the applied loads, support B settles 0.5 in. 12ʹ 6ʹ 6ʹ
and support D settles 1 in.
P9.14

(a) Use RB as Redundant Geometry ΔBO = 0

0 = Δ BO + δBB [ X B ]
0 = - 0.2 + 0.115 X B

X B = 10.5k

(b.)
Redundant Applied as Force

Release Structure with Original Loads

K AY = -0.16 k
M A = -34.1ft⋅k
RBY = 6.16 k
RDY = 6 k
Release Structure w/Unit Value of RB

9-16
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.15. (a) Compute all reactions for the beam in P = 16 kips
Figure P9.15 assuming that the supports do not
move; EI is constant. (b) Repeat computations A B C
given that support C moves upward a distance of
288/(EI) when the load is applied.
6ʹ 6ʹ 12ʹ

P9.15

Compatibility Equation:

ΔBy = 0 ⋅ ΔBO + δBB X B = 0

Virtual Work:
Using Table A.2 (Values of Product Integrals):
Select RB as the Redundant
1 æ 1 (12 - 6)2 ö÷
ΔBO = çç - ÷ (6)(72)(24)
EI çè 3 6(12)(18) ÷÷ø (a)
3168
= 
EI
PL3 1(24)3
δBB = =
48EI 48EI
288
= 
EI
Released Structure w/Applied Load
ΔBO + δBB X B = 0
-3168 288
+ ⋅ XB = 0
EI EI
X B = RB = 11k 

Remaining Reactions by Statics:


+
ΣMC = 0; 24( RA ) + 12(11k ) -18(16) = 0
RA = 6.5k  Released Structure w/Unit Value of RB
+ ΣFy = 0; RC = 11 + 6.5 -16 k = 1.5k 

(b.)
Compatibility Equation:
144
ΔBO + δBB X B = -
EI
-3168 288 -144
+ X =
EI EI B EI
X B = RB = 10.5k 

RA = 6.75k  ; RC = 1.25k 

9-17
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No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.16. Determine all reactions and draw the w = 1 kip/ft
shear and moment curves for the beam in A
Figure P9.16. EI is constant. C
B
24ʹ 16ʹ

P9.16

Compatibility Equation:
Δ AO + δAA X A = 0
θB : From Table 9.3:
WL3 1(16)3 170.7
θB = = =
24 EI 24 EI EI
4096
Δ AO ¢
= θB (24 ) =  Select RA as the Redundant
EI

δAA : From Table A.3

Pa 2
δAA = ( L + a)
3EI
1k (24)2 7680
= (16 + 24) =  Released Structure w/applied Loads
3EI EI
Δ AO + δAA X A = 0
4096 7680
+ [XA ] = 0
EI EI
X A = RA = -0.533k 

Remaining Reactions by Statics: Released Structure w/Unit Value of RA


+
ΣM B = 0;
-0.533(24) + (1)(16 ¢)(8¢) -16 ¢ RC = 0

RC = 7.2 k 
+ ΣFY = 0;
K
-0.533 + RB + 7.2 k -1 1 (16) = 0

RB = 9.33k 

9-18
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.17. (a) Assuming that no loads act in Figure w = 1 kip/ft
P9.16, compute the reactions if support B is A
constructed 0.48 in. too low. Given: E = 29,000 C
2 4
kips/in. , I = 300 in. . (b) If support B settles B
3
2
in. under the applied loads, compute the 24ʹ 16ʹ
reactions.
P9.16

(a)
Compatibility Equation:
Δ AO = -1.2 ¢¢ 
Δ AO + δAA X A = 0
δAA : From Table A.3
Pa 2 1(24)2 Select RA as the Redundant
δAA = ( L + a) = (16 + 24)
3EI 3EI
7680(1728)
= = 1.525 in/k
(29,000)(300)
Compatibility Equation:
Released Structure w/Support “B” low.
-1.2 ¢¢ + (1.525) X A = 0 X A = RA = 0.787k 
Remaining Reactions by Statics:

+
ΣM B = 0; 0.787(24) - RC (16) = 0 RC = 1.18k 
+  ΣFy = 0 RB = 1.967k  Released Structure w/Unit Value of RA
(b.) Compatibility Equations:
Δ AO1 + Δ AO 2 + δAA X A = 0 (b.)
(Load) (Settlemt)

θB : From Figure 9.3

WL3 (1)(16)3144
θB = = = 2.825(10-3 ) Rad.
24 EI 24(29000)(300)
ΔA01 = θB (24 ¢ ´12 X ) = 0.814 ¢¢  Released Structure w/Applied Load (w)

1.5
ΔA02 = -1.5 + (24 ¢) = -3.75¢¢ 
16
Compat. Equations: 0.814 ¢¢ - 3.75 + 1.525 X A = 0
X A = RA = 1.925k 
Remaining Reactions by Statics RC = 10.89k  Released Structure w/Support “B” Settled.

RB = 3.187k 

9-19
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.18. Compute the reactions and draw the 20 kN 20 kN
shear and moment curves for the beam in
Figure P9.18. Given: EI is constant. Take A B C D
advantage of symmetry and use the end moment
as the redundant.
3m 3m 3m

P9.18

θ = θE + ΔθE - D
60 60 (3)
= 0+ (1.5) +
EI EI 2
180
θ =-
EI
Use Minus Sign. Since Opposite in Direction to
Use Symmetry to Simplify
Redundant.
1. RA = RO = 20 kN
Compute α Use Moment-Area
2. M A = MO = M
Since no Horiz. Loads, Structure Indeterminate to 1º

α = θξ + Δθξ - A
Select “M” as Redundant 1 4.5
α = 0 + (4.5) =
EI EI
Compatibility EQ.
θA = 0
θ + αM = 0
-180 4.5( M )
+ =0
EI EI
M = 40 kN ⋅ M
Compute θ Use Moment-Area Shear and Moment Diagrams

9-20
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.19. Compute the reactions and draw the w
shear and moment curves for the beam in
A B
Figure P9.19. Given: EI is constant. Use the
reactions at B as the redundants.

P9.19

Compute reactions using MB and RO as redundants.

Deflections computed by moment-area or by in
Table A.3.

Compatibility Equations
Δ B = 0 = Δ BO + δBB RB + δBM M B
θB = 0 = θBO + αBY RB + αBM M B

In Terms of Displacements
-WL4 L3 L2
0= + RB - M
8EI 3EI 2 EI B
-WL3 L3 L
0= - R + M
6 EI 2 EI B EI B

Solving Gives:
WL
RB =
2
WL2
MB =
12

9-21
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.20. Compute the reactions and draw the 20 kN
shear and moment curves for the beam in
Figure P9.20. Given: EI is constant for the A C
6 4
beam. E = 200 GPa, I = 40 × 10 mm . D
B

K = 40 kN/m

5m 4m 3m

P9.20

Compatibility EQ.
Δ D () = Δ DO () - δDO Dy
Dy 1840 196
ΔD = = - Dy
K EI EI
1840
Dy = + 196
EI
Select Dy as the Redundant.
K
EI 200 ´ 40
And = = 200
K 40
1840
Dy = = 4.65 kN 
200 + 196
ΣM A = 0 : RB = 24.84 kN 
ΣFy = 0 : RA = 9.49 kN 

5 80 æ 5 öæ 1 ö 200 Calculate Δ DO by “Conjugate Beam.”

RA = ´ çç ÷÷çç ÷÷ =
2 EI çè 3 ÷øèç 5 ÷ø 3EI
5´80 çæ 5 ö
M D = RA ´12 - çç + 7÷÷÷
2 EI è 3 ø
4 ´80 çæ 2 ö÷ 1840
- ç ´ 4 + 3÷÷ = -
2 EI èç 3 ø EI
1840
ΔD = 
EI
Pa 2
δDD = ( L + a) (See Table A.3)
3EI
1(7)2 (12) 196
δDD = =
3EI EI

9-22
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.21. Compute the reactions and draw the w = 4 kN/m
shear and moment curves for the beam in
Figure P9.21. In addition to the applied load, the
A B
support at C settles by 0.1 m. EI is constant for
6 4
the beam. E = 200 GPa, I = 60 × 10 mm . K = 40 kN/m
C

10 m

P9.21

wL4 4(10)4 ()

Δ BO = = = 0.4167 m
8EI 8(200)(60)
PL3 1(10)3
δBB = = = 0.0278 m
3EI 3(200)(60) ()

1
δS = = 0.025 m ()
40
Compatibility Equation
Select RB as the Redundant.
-Δ BO + δBB RB = -0.025 RB - 0.1
RB = 6 kN = RC ()

ΣFy = 0 : RA + RB - 4(10) = 0
\ RA = 34 kN ()
æ10 ö
ΣM A = 0 : M A - 4(10) çç ÷÷÷ + 10 RC = 0
(
+)
è2ø

\ M A = 140 kN ⋅ m ( )

Shear
Moment

9-23
Copyright © 2018 McGraw-Hill Education. All rights reserved.
No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.22. Consider the beam in Figure P9.21 w = 4 kN/m
without the applied load and support settlement.
Compute the reactions and draw the shear and
A B
moment curves for the beam if support A rotates
clockwise by 0.005 rad. K = 40 kN/m
C

10 m

P9.21

Select RB as the Redundant.

ΔBO = (10 m)(0.005 rad.) = 0.05 m

δBB [ xRB ] δBB = 0.0278 m (See P9.21)

1
δS = = 0.025 m
40

Compatibility Equation:
-Δ BO + δBB RB = -0.025 RB
 RB = 0.947 kN ()
RA = -0.947 kN ()
M A = 10 RB = 9.47 kN ⋅ m ( )

Moment
Shear

9-24
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No reproduction or distribution without the prior written consent of McGraw-Hill Education.
 P9.23. Recompute the reactions for the beam in w = 3 kips/ft
Figure 9.4 if a spring with K = 235 kips/in. is
provided between support B and the midspan of A C
the beam. B
7ʹ 7ʹ

P9.4

(Assume E = 29,000 ksi and I = 100 in.4)

Selecting B as the redundant, the compatibility equation is:

X 3 kips/ft
Δ BO + δBB X B = Δ B, spring = - B
K

300.125 14.292 A C
From P9.4: Δ BO = , δBB =
EI EI K = 235 kip/in
Therefore: ΔB

XB
Δ BO + δBB X B = Δ B , spring = - 3 kips/ft
K
X MA’ MC’
300.125 14.292
- (1728) + (1728) X B = - B
EI EI 235 A C
X B = By = 14 kips
ΔBO δ BBXB = By
From symmetry: Ay = Cy
ΣFy = 0 = -3(14) + 14 + 2 Ay
Ay = C y = 14 kips 

The end moments can be determined via superposition:

2
wL2 By L
M A = -MC = -
12 8
(3)(14)2 (14)(14)
=- + 3 kips/ft
12 8 MA= 24.5 kip-ft MC= 24.5 kip-ft
M A = -24.5 kip ⋅ ft  A C

MC = 24.5 kip ⋅ ft  By =14 kips

Ay =14 kips Cy =14 kips

9-25
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many people in the garden, one or two evidently convalescents. The
ground was in perfect order, a gardener and one man being in
attendance; but the people, though evidently of the lower class,
were clearly impressed with a feeling that the garden should be
respected. In fact the special feature of this garden seemed to me to
be the evident sense of its being common property—something that
everyone had had a share in doing, and in which they had a
common interest. The tombstones are all removed, but
measurements were taken, and an authorised plan made of the
ground, showing precisely the place of every grave, also a certified
copy of every tombstone has been entered in a large book. These
precautions for carefully preserving power of identifying the spot
where any body is buried, and securing the record of the inscription,
have entirely satisfied the owners of graves and the legal authorities,
and it would be well for vicars having disused churchyards to
remember the plan as one which has met all difficulties in the way of
removing tombstones.
The little churchyard in Bishopsgate which has been planted is
probably well known to most of you. It is, I believe, a delight to
many. A friend said to me the other day, "I often pass through it; it
is certainly very nice. The only thing I am sorry about is that they
have taken away the peacock and put two swans instead." "Are they
not as pretty?" I asked. "Oh, I daresay they are," he replied; "it was
the swans I was thinking of, they have so small a space, while the
peacock was quite happy, because he always had plenty of people to
admire his tail!" The Rev. G. M. Humphreys brought the question of
opening the little burial-ground in Drury Lane before the notice of
the St. Martin's-in-the-Fields vestry. They agreed to carry forward
the work, and it was opened last week to the people as a garden. It
is a refreshing breathing-space in a terribly crowded neighbourhood.
It is bounded by a small piece of ground on the north which is
admirably fitted for a block of dwellings for working people. If the
Duke of Bedford, to whom I understand it belongs, would build, or
arrange for others to build there, a block of houses where abundant
air would be secured to them, and transfer there the population of
some crowded court, he would do a great and good work.
By-the-way, this paper was written before the news reached me of
the temporary closing of the garden until such time as the vestry
have decided in what way to regulate the admission of the public in
future. As much will doubtless be heard of this temporary closing, I
may as well explain, that my friend, Miss Cons, was there on
Thursday, and saw the extent of mischief done, and went pretty
thoroughly into the whole question. There does not appear to have
been any destructiveness of mischievous feeling—the people availed
themselves in such crowds of the privilege of going in, that the ivy
was very much trampled on, and the yuccas which had been planted
in the middle of the gravel without any sort of protection had their
leaves spoiled; but the shrubs were hardly injured, nor does there
appear to have been any intentional mischief done. It is hardly
wonderful that the ivy should be trampled on, seeing that no low
wire fence, such as guards the beds in Leicester Square, nor little
hoops, such as protect them in St. George's-in-the-East, had been
placed. At the same time I may add that, seeing how very small the
ground is in proportion to the dense population near Drury Lane, in
the letter in which I brought the subject of planting it before the
vicar, I suggested opening it by tickets distributed by workers in the
district, rather than throwing it absolutely open to everyone. I
thought that might have been done later, if it were found possible. I
also pointed out to the man in charge, as I left the ground last
week, that at first much supervision would be needed. If the vestry
has the smallest doubt about the possibility of succeeding in keeping
it in order, I have not the smallest hesitation in undertaking to do it
for them for a year, if they like to trust me with it, and so meet the
first difficulties by special individual care, and prove the possibility of
conducting the experiment there, as well as it has been done in St.
George's-in-the-East. But I have no doubt they will see their way
effectually to carry through the good work they have begun, only I
have not had time to communicate with them yet.
The large churchyard in the Waterloo Road is in process of being
turned into a garden. The Rev. Arthur Robinson has collected £290,
and is laying it out more like a country garden, and less like a place
planned by a Board of Works, than any other I have seen. He has
stumps prepared for ferns to grow on (and wants some, by-the-way,
which some of you might send him); he has a nice bank, winding
walks between the turf, knows which side of the church his wisteria
will grow, spoke with hope of getting the large blue clematis to
flower, wants numberless creepers to cover the church walls, and to
wreathe around and make beautiful the few tombs which he leaves
unmoved because relatives are still living and care to retain them. I
understand he purposes applying to the vestry for help, and in view
of the many churchyards there are to deal with, this would seem the
right thing to do in general. At the same time, I can see we should
get a more country-like garden, the more the planning of it could be
left in the hands of a man of culture, who loves plants and colour.
I believe St. Pancras Churchyard is now open as a garden;
Limehouse is, I understand, thus utilised as far as the tombstones
allow. The Rev. W. Allen has got his parishioners to memorialise the
vestry to take some steps towards opening the ground in
Bermondsey, but hitherto without success, and there may be others
either now laid out or in progress—I earnestly hope there are—of
which I have no knowledge.
I regret to say that an attempt to induce the Quakers to appropriate
to the same purpose a burial-ground belonging to them in Bunhill
Fields has utterly failed. The ground was one which would have been
of almost more value for the purpose than any I know in London. It
is close to Whitecross Street, which some of you may know as a
street quite swarming with costermongers; the houses there are
tunnelled every few yards with archways leading to as crowded
courts as I know anywhere. Many houses of the poor actually
overlooked the ground. In Coleman Street, which bounds the ground
on the north, is a factory from which crowds of workmen turn out
daily at dinner-time, many, no doubt, to adjourn to the public-house.
But one hot day last summer, when I was there, dozens of them
were sitting on the dusty pavement, their backs leaning against the
great, dead, heated wall, which hid from them the space occupied
by the burial-ground. There is not a tombstone in it, and it might
have been planted and thrown open easily. Last summer I wrote to
the Quakers, hearing they were about to sell the ground for building,
laying before them the reasons for devoting it to the public as a
garden. After urging them to give it thus to the poor themselves, I
added a request that if they did not see their way to do this, they
would at least pause to enable me and my friends who were
interested in such undertakings to see whether we could not raise
enough money to secure it for the poor, even if they determined to
exact for it full building-land value. I certainly could hardly believe
that Quakers could thus sell land once devoted to their dead, and
which had never brought them in rent, but I thought it just possible
they might hesitate to give what belonged to the Society all to the
poor. At any rate, I was determined no want of effort on my part
should lose for the people so valuable and unique a space lying in
the heart of a crowded neighbourhood. My letter was never even
considered by the meeting. The company in treaty for the ground
did not purchase it then, because they thought it irreverent to
disturb the dead. Yet although I have again and again seen and
written to leading Quakers about it, and addressed several letters to
their organ, The Friend, they have deliberately just sold it for
building. No builder could be found who liked to buy the ground and
disturb the bodies, and the Quakers themselves employed workmen
to accomplish the most ghastly unearthing of the contents of the
graves, uprooting five thousand bodies, which, I should think, never
was undertaken before. They are selling the land for dwellings for
the poor, and are excusing themselves by harping on the need of
dwellings; but the immediate neighbourhood is to be dealt with
under the Artisans Dwellings Bill, by means of which a large number
of healthy homes for the poor will be erected, while I fear there is
no chance of any other garden being made in their midst. And,
especially as only a portion of the Quakers' burial-ground is to be
devoted to workmen's dwellings, the number of rooms provided in
the district will not be sensibly affected. They have excused
themselves, too, because they have not dug up George Fox, but only
some of their lesser leaders and their nameless dead. Even if they
formed a slightly different estimate of the relative advantages of a
few more rooms and a garden, I own to an amazed sorrow that the
Quakers rejected a scheme by which the land might have been
rendered a blessing to the living, without doing violence to what
seems to me to be a natural instinct of reverence, ineradicable in
every human heart, for whatever has been associated with the
loved, or the great and noble who are no longer with us. Nor could I
have borne, if I had been they, to draw so marked a distinction
between the unknown, who had surely been loved, and the known,
who had been famous, as to uproot five thousand bodies and spare
George Fox's grave. I am sorry English workmen were called in to
"separate those who had lain side by side for two centuries," that
"the bones of young and old were" by them "placed in coarse deal
boxes and re-interred in a large hole at the other end of the
ground." That "many of them, while awaiting this fresh burial, were
piled in a rude heap in a corner," with carbolic acid poured over
them. Is this the lesson our workmen are to learn? Are they, too,
valueless because so nameless? These poor bodies now mouldering
away were once animated by spirits of beloved men and women.
That which was once the form which embodied any human soul,
named or unnamed, would have seemed to me worth a little gentler
care. Better have let it mingle quietly with the dust and feed the
trees and the daisies, keeping the resting-place of the dead one also
for the weary and the poor.
I deal with the matter thus at length because the Quakers still have
a burial-ground in Whitechapel and one in Bermondsey, which would
be available as gardens, and which they have not yet sold; and also
because I am not aware that they have decided how they will deal
with the small portion of the Bunhill Fields ground which they cannot
build over, where they have re-buried their unearthed dead. Have
any of you influence with them, or can anything be done? The
Whitechapel ground, though not nearly so central and important as
Bunhill Fields, is well worth preserving. It is overlooked by the
workhouse, in the chronic wards of which there must be many who
would rejoice to look out over trees and flowers, and who will never
see them again unless this ground is planted with them. On the east
side of the ground, too, is a wall; only to pull down that wall and put
a railing instead, would give light and air to a whole street. Yet
though Mr. Lefevre, on behalf of the Commons Preservation Society,
has twice asked them to say whether, and if so on what terms, they
would arrange for the ground to be put in order and used as a
garden for the people, they give evasive answers, and I believe have
it in contemplation to sell it for building. The rector of Whitechapel
has written to them, the guardians have memorialised them. They
make no responsive sign. I make these remarks in no spirit of
hostility to the Quakers; some of my oldest and best friends are
Quakers, and I have the deepest respect for them as a body, and
well know they have been leaders in much that is good, thoughtful,
and liberal in times past, to the poor to a remarkable degree, and I
know the value of such gardens is only beginning to attract notice;
but I think the facts as concerning the land should be well known to
the whole Society and to the public, and I only hope that the Society
will consider them thoroughly at their yearly meeting this month.
Within the last few days I have received letters from leading
Quakers, asking me to bring the question before their yearly
meeting; but I think I must really leave it in their own hands; the
responsibility is wholly theirs. Their best ground is now almost gone,
the facts are well before them, and Mr. Shaw-Lefevre's offer is not
only well known to the whole Society, but the correspondence
between him and their committee has been published in The Friend
newspaper.
There is another body which I hope will swiftly become aware of
their opportunities for doing good with land which is under their
control—the London School Board. They have in all fifty-seven acres
of playground, which they entirely close on the children's one
holiday, Saturday, and during the summer evenings. It seems almost
incredible, does it not? But so it really is. Of course the fact is that
the Board has not considered how to manage the supervision. But
surely that difficulty ought to be met either by the Board itself
paying for it, if that is within its powers, or by some society, such as
that which has summoned us here to-day, or by individual donors.
Having the ground which, however small, is at least available for
games for a certain number of children selected by the masters, it
seems ridiculous not to use it. A deputation from this Society will
wait on the School Board on May 30, to press the opening of the
ground upon them—for that deputation influential support is much
needed. If any of you can help, I hope you will communicate with
Miss Lankester. I spoke of the very corrupting influence of the
streets, though I did so with reference to the small companies of
children who might be brought together for quiet pastimes in our
churchyard-gardens of the future. The School Board playgrounds
would afford scope for the more active games. Surely this should be
afforded by anybody who realises how very beneficial athletic
exercise and active play would be to the children's health, and how
happy it would make them. Why, I have seen two swings make
children so happy, I have been ashamed to think how few we have
in London. They don't take much space, and what delight they give!
A clergyman near here is about to fit up a yard as a gymnasium for
the men belonging to a workmen's club, and doubtless others will do
the same.
The uses to which even a small playground in London may be put
would take long to describe. I have charge of two, where, besides
opening them every Saturday and in the summer evenings, every
May we have a real maypole—flowers from the country in
thousands, flags flying, band playing, swings, and see-saws fully
used, children marching, dancing, and skipping, and a kind and able
body of ladies and gentlemen who know them amusing them,
keeping order, and increasing by their presence the sense of
festivity. The trustees of Lincoln's Inn Fields have, for the last two or
three years, kindly granted to me leave to take in a company of the
children of our tenants one afternoon each summer. It is a pleasant
sight. The square is larger, I believe, than any in London, and the
trees are most beautiful. They have also just given permission to the
boys from the Refuge in Great Queen Street to exercise there two
mornings a week from seven to nine o'clock. But this is a small
amount of use to make of one of the largest, and most beautiful,
and most central spaces of the metropolis, where there are few or
no residents to be disturbed or interfered with at the hours when the
ground would be most valuable; and it is to be earnestly hoped that
the trustees will soon extend the privileges that they have hitherto
kindly accorded to us to others. It appears to me to be simply a
question of adequate supervision, and for this there are people who
would be willing to pay.
It is well known that the Temple and Lincoln's Inn Gardens are now
opened regularly on summer evenings to children. Why the
managers limit the privilege to children I cannot think. Surely older
people need the air, and surely they would help unconsciously to
keep order too. The more of such places that are open, the less will
the grass in each be worn—the better the people will learn to
behave. I have sometimes heard it urged against opening places to
the poor that there is a chance of their conveying infection to
children of a higher class. Setting aside the fact that out of doors is
the last place people are likely to take infection, and that I presume
the richer children would be under supervision as to playing with
strangers, I ask you seriously to consider who ought to monopolise
the few spaces there are in this metropolis for outdoor amusements.
Is it the children whose parents take them to the sea, or the country,
or the Continent, when the summer sun makes London unbearable?
Is it the children who, if their little cheeks look pale, or their strength
flags after an illness, are at once sent under careful supervision to
Hastings or Malvern? Is it even the children whose sturdy and
vigorous father has amassed a little money, and delights to take
them by train on a Saturday afternoon to Richmond, Bushey, or
Erith? Or is it not rather the tiny child of the hard-working widow,
whose frail form seems almost to grow smaller year by year instead
of larger? Is it not the pale child with great sunken eyes, just
discharged from the hospital, the bed being wanted, convalescent,
but to whom fresh air and a little quiet are still so needful? Is it not
to the careful, motherly, little elder sister, patient nurse of eight or
nine years old, hugging the heavy, round-cheeked baby, with two or
three other children clinging to her dress, she who cannot get as far
as the park? Is it not the sturdy urchin, son of a costermonger
perhaps, whose hardy and energetic spirit scorns the bounds of the
narrow court, and seeks wider fields with freer power of movement,
but who has no chance, even when July comes, of climbing cliffs or
jumping ditches? Should not the few spaces be available for these
latter to the very utmost of your power? And again, do you really
think now, people who live in comfortable houses, that you do or
can escape infection by any precautions if small-pox and fever rage
in the back courts of your city? You take all manner of precautions, I
know (except, perhaps, what I should call the best of all), but you
have no idea how near you, how all round you, this infection is, if it
be indeed the subtle thing doctors say. The shops you enter, the
cabs you travel in, the clothes you wear, the food you eat, all bring
you into communication with those who are coming in contact with
patients whenever disease is rife. Depend on it, your best chance of
escape is to make the places inhabited by the poor healthy, to let
them have open space where the fresh wind may blow over them
and their clothes, places where they may be less crowded and gain
health. You never will, or can, really separate yourselves from your
neighbours; accept then the nobler aim of making them such that
you shall desire not separation—but union.
Among the small open spaces which we must hope to see thrown
open to the people in the time to come in a greater or less degree
are the squares. Of course I know that the ground in the square
gardens is the property of the freeholder, and that with the leases of
the surrounding houses are granted certain privileges with regard to
the gardens, which neither can nor ought to be arbitrarily
withdrawn. But I hope the day is not far distant when it may dawn
upon the dwellers in our West End squares that during August and
September not one in fifty of their families is in town, and that it is a
rather awful responsibility to lock up the only little bit of earth which
is unbuilt over, which is within reach of the very old, the very feeble,
or the very young; and that when they leave town they will, in their
corporate capacity, grant such discretionary power to those who stay
in town, to admit the poor to sit under the trees, as may seem
consistent with their rights as leaseholders, interpreted perhaps a
little liberally, as they contrast the utmost they can give in the
somewhat dingy, early dried-up, London plane-tree, with the wealth
of magnificent foliage of wood, or park, or mountain, to which they
and their rejoicing family, baby and all, grandmother and all, go
before the autumn sun dries up poor scorched London.
Also, oh, you rich people, to whom the squares belong, some few of
whom too own private gardens actually in London, adjoining Hyde
Park or Regent's Park, or saved on some great estate round the
landowner's house, I think you might have a flower-show or large
garden-party, once a year, for the poor of your neighbourhood, while
you are in town to meet them. I have seen such things done in
squares with delightful results. A whole district gathered together,
old friends and new, in happy fellowship under the trees, the band
playing, and the place looking its gayest. I have seen tents filled
with flowers reared in the houses of the poor, each in itself a poor
plant, yet, gathered together, looking quite bright and flourishing;
and friends whom circumstances had parted, former clergymen,
former visitors, meeting the poor friend whom else it might have
been difficult to see. Have such a party once a year if you can; one
afternoon in the summer will never be missed by the dwellers in the
square, while the memories of many a poor neighbour may be
enriched by the thought of the bright gathering in the soft summer
air. I never was present at the flower-shows at Westminster Abbey,
nor do I know how far they grew out of previous intercourse with
the poor; but I feel sure that is the way to use any open space in
London. The more the festivals can be connected with previous work
the better; but those few who own ground easily accessible to the
people will do well to put the ground once yearly at the service of
those who do know the poor for a flower-show or garden-party. I
know nothing that with less trouble gives more joy, or more
thoroughly brings corporate life into a parish.
There are, besides the grander squares, some, I think, which are
deserted by the rich, where "life"—that is, plenty going on—would
be more acceptable than quiet; where the residents would be
actually glad to have the gates thrown open, the beds set with
bright flowers, the seats available for all, as in Leicester Square. I
think even a band on a Saturday afternoon might be thought a gain.
It is a pity these deserted wildernesses, with their poverty-stricken
privet-hedges, are not by some common consent made to adapt
themselves to the needs of the neighbourhood.
I have thus far dwelt mainly on open spaces as affecting the health
or social life of our people, but there is another way in which such
spaces might be made most valuable to them. That is, if they could
be made really beautiful. Londoners are surrounded with the most
depressing ugliness; the richer ones try with more or less good taste
to mitigate this by decoration indoors; but those who have little or
no superfluous wealth, and far less refinement, to lead them to
spend any part of it in this way, are, at home and abroad, from
year's end to year's end, surrounded by ugliness. If we could alter
this, it would go far to refine and civilise them. Now it would be
difficult to do this in their own homes at once; besides, that is a
sphere where each should do it for his own family; but wherever a
common meeting-place is arranged, within doors or without, there it
seems to me that rich people might find a really useful scope for
spending money. The poor man's independence does not demand
that he should plant trees and flowers for himself, or decorate with
colour wall or door, still less does it require that he should provide
such beautiful things for the public, rich or poor. My sister has
founded a society, called, after the Man of Ross, the Kyrle Society,
which has for its object to bring beauty into the haunts of the poor;
it has met with much support, and I hope the day may come when
hospitals, mission-rooms, school-rooms, workmen's clubs, and, in
fact, all common meeting-places of the poor, may be enriched by
beautiful things given by it. It is dealing also with open spaces, is
not only planting and bringing plants to the poor, but it is trying in
other ways to beautify these spaces, and I am not without hope that
gradually either mural decorations, inscriptions in tiles, or possibly
cloisters, might be given by those who cared to obtain for their
fellow-citizens, not only space, but beauty. This is being done in
some cases. I will read you a short poem now being painted on zinc
by a lady, to put up on a wall of a tiny little garden in a court in
Whitechapel which is under my care.
SONG OF THE CITY SPARROW.
When the summer-time is ended
And the winter days are near;
When the bloom hath all departed
With the childhood of the year;

When the martins and the swallows

Flutter cowardly away,
Then the people can remember
That the sparrows always stay.

That although we're plain and songless,

And poor city birds are we,
Yet before the days of darkness
We, the sparrows, never flee.

But we hover round the window,

And we peck against the pane,
While we twitteringly tell them
That the spring will come again.

And when drizzly dull November

Falls so gloomily o'er all,
And the misty fog enshrouds them
In a dim and dreary pall;

When the streets all fade to dreamland,

And the people follow fast,
And it seems as though the sunshine
Was for evermore gone past;

Then we glide among the house-tops,

And we track the murky waste,
And we go about our business
With a cheerful earnest haste.

Not as though our food were plenty,

O d i ht t
 Or no dangers we might meet;
But as though the work of living
Was a healthy work and sweet.

When the gentle snow descendeth,

Like a white and glistening shroud,
For the year whose life hath ended,
Floated upwards like a cloud;

Then although the open country

Shineth very bright and fair,
And the town is overclouded,
Yet we still continue there.

Even till the spring returneth,

Bringing with it brighter birds,
Unto whom the city people
Give their love and gentle words,

And we yet again, descended

To become the least of all,
Take our name as "only sparrows,"
And are slighted till we fall.

Still we're happy, happy, happy,

Never minding what we be;
For we have a work and do it,
Therefore very blithe are we.

We enliven sombre winter,

And we're loved while it doth last,
And we're not the only creatures
Who must live upon the past.

With a chirrup, chirrup, chirrup,

We let all the slights go by,
And we do not feel they hurt us,
Or becloud the summer sky
 Or becloud the summer sky.

We are happy, happy, happy,

Never minding what we be,
For we know the good Creator
Even cares for such as we.

Is it not pleasant to think of the children having those words to read

—painted in pretty colours, too—rather than looking at a blank wall?
Sometimes I think we might even hope to carry with us the hearts of
people by setting up for them deliberately very solemn and beautiful
words indeed, coloured richly in lasting tiles. I do not see why at any
rate our churches should not bear on their face some message to
the outside world. I was fancying the other day, as I looked at the
great, blank, dirty, dead side wall of a London church, which was
seen from a principal thoroughfare, and which bounded the
graveyard, long disused, but full of graves, how beautiful it would be
to put in coloured tiles, along the whole length of the wall, Kingsley's
words:

Do noble things, not dream them, all day long,

And so make life, death, and that vast for-ever,
One grand, sweet song.

The words are simple, and would go home to the hearts of every
passer-by; the bright colours, the look of expensive care bestowed
on them, the fact that they are on the wall of a church, would give
them a look of serious purpose, too great, it seems to me, for any
sense of jar as to their publicity to be felt for a moment. It seemed
to me that as the hurrying crowd went its way along the
thoroughfare, the words might recall to someone high purposes
once entertained and long forgotten, either in the struggle of life or
the more deadening influence of success or ease—startle him to
memories, at least, of a greater, nobler life than he was leading; to
the weary and dejected it seemed to me they might point to the
continuance in that great hereafter of all we seem to lose here, and
all the while the words would be felt to be keeping watch over the
dead, whose sudden silence is so hard to bear, but the harmony of
whose grand, sweet song in that vast for-ever we catch now and
again when we are doing noble things, and so tuning our hearts into
more perfect sympathy with the music of God's universe.
I have spoken mainly of making open spaces, because I think the
usefulness of the parks and the embankment is much more
generally known. I am rather afraid of their being supposed to
supersede the need of small open spaces quite near the homes of
the poor, than of their value being underrated. The old and the very
young cannot get to them often, nor from all parts of London. But I
ought hardly to pass them over in absolute silence; they certainly do
meet a quite distinct want on the part of the stronger portion of the
community, who can get some sense of power of expansion, can see
the fair summer sun going down behind the towers of Westminster
Abbey, a space of sky being visible, so rarely seen from the streets
or courts. Let us be very thankful for them.
Also when I undertake to speak to you about open spaces, though I
cannot to-day dwell on them at length, I dare not omit all reference
to those which are perhaps most precious of any, and which are by
no means secured to us as yet as the parks are—our commons—the
only portion of the land of England which remains in a living sense
of the birthright of the people of England, and which, bit by bit,
gradually and insidiously is filched away, under this and that pretext,
by one big landowner after another, quietly surrounded by his
effectual railing, and added to his park or field. Often is this done
under shadow of law, often without any legal right, but just because
no one is careful enough, or rich enough, or brave enough to
oppose. My friends, there is a society which has done much good
work, much unpopular work, which this session even saved you from
encroachments on Mitcham and Barnes Commons; it is little known,
it wants money support, and it deserves your full support of every
kind—the Commons Preservation Society. Note down its address, 1,
Great College Street, Westminster, give it what support you can, but
above all if ever you see a common threatened, or a piece of one
inclosed, write and ask the Society whether it is legally done—what
chance of redress there is. The Society has set itself to fortify local
effort by advice, by parliamentary support, sometimes by money; it
watches over the interests of Englishmen in the small amount of
uninclosed land yet remaining to them. While house is being added
to house and field to field, while one small farm after another is
being swallowed up in the big estate, there are yet left for the
common inheritance of Englishmen who have small chance of ever
owning even a little garden of their very own, some few moorland
spaces, set with gorse and heather, fringed by solemn rank of
guardian fir-trees, where in the sandy banks their children yet may
hollow caves, where the heath-bell waves in the faint evening
breeze, and from which—oh, wondrous joy to us Londoners—still the
far blue distance may be seen, witness to us for ever, as it lies there
still, and calm, and bright, that the near things which overshadow
us, which seem so tremendous, like tall London houses, built by
man, and covering so large a portion of our horizon and sky,
hemming us in with terrible oppressive sense of dreariness, may
fade back and back from us in distance, till they become even lovely
in God's fair sunlight, little jagged peaks only against His calm sky,
and all softened into sweetest colour by the light He sheds over
them.
Keep those fair, far, still places for your children, and your children's
children, if you can: the more cities increase, the more precious they
will be; for the more man's soul will long for the beauty, for the
quiet, which the city does not, cannot give.

FOOTNOTE:
[8] Read at a meeting of the National Health Society, May 9, 1877.
 VII.
EFFECTUAL CHARITY.[9]

Tender pity for the poor has been a growing characteristic of this
age; a better sign of it still is the increased sense of duty to them,
not only as poor men, but as men. There needs, however, it appears
to me, something still before our charity shall be effectual for good.
The feeling is there, the conscience is there, but there is wanting the
wise thought and the resolute, because educated, will.
Our charity, if by the word we mean our loving-kindness, has been
good in itself, but if we mean by the word, alms-giving, can we
flatter ourselves that it has been productive of a satisfactory state of
things? We have taught our poor to live in uncertainty as to their
resources, which is producing among them a reckless want of
forethought, which is quite appalling. The most ordinary occurrences
of their lives—the regular winter frost which stops the work of some
men year by year; the changes in the labour market, caused by the
London season; the expenses attending illness; the gradual
approach of old age—are not dwelt on now usually among the poor
as reasons for trying to provide a fund to meet them. Thus there are
hundreds of our people living on the extremest brink of pauperism
or starvation, learning more and more to be dependent on the
chance coal-ticket, or half-crown, or blanket; and if it does not
happen to be given at the moment when it is wanted, how forlorn is
the position of the improvident man? But look also on the even more
important question of their spirit, and of their relation to those above
them in class. Can there be energy, independence, vigour, healthy
activity among them? Can there be between them and the donors
any of that happy manly interchange of thought, by which the
possessors of education, refinement, leisure, might help, or be
helped by, the active, self-reliant working-man, with his large
capacity for fresh vigorous joy, and his store of power accumulated
during a long period of endurance and patient effort? If different
classes, like different people, have separate characters which are
meant to act and react one on the other, are we not, by allowing the
help to be one of a dole of money, destroying the possibility of the
better help that might have been?
And is our money doing any good? Did you ever see the district—the
family—the individual that was richer for this repeated alms-giving?
Has it ever been powerful, even for outside good, to be recipients?
Is the bed better covered in the long run for the lent blankets, or the
children better fed for the free distribution of soup? Or is it
consistent with our ideal that there should be this body of people
dependent for the most ordinary necessities of life on the gifts of
another class? Rely upon it, if we foster this state of things it will
continue to increase.
Here we are, however, in the midst of this alms-giving, aimless,
thoughtless, ineffectual to achieve any object its donors had in view.
It is a gigantic system, or rather no system, which has grown up
around us. What is our duty with regard to it? Specially what is the
duty of those of us who are, in any sense of the word, trustees of
charitable funds?
There is a society which you all know well enough by name—the
Charity Organisation Society—which has set itself to help distributors
of alms in two important ways. First, it has offered to examine, free
of all charge, carefully, for anyone who wants to learn about them,
the circumstances and character of applicants for relief. Donors
cannot decide what help it is wise to give until they know all about
an applicant; the Society can learn such facts in a far more complete
way than donors possibly can. Clearly then, to my mind, donors or
distributors of gifts ought to accept this proffered help.
But the Society offers a second advantage; it will give an opinion on
the case of an applicant. When the facts respecting his condition and
character are ascertained, the problem is simply this. How can he be
so helped that the help may soon be needed no longer; how placed
speedily out of the reach of want, in an honourable useful place
where he can help himself? Or if his need be necessarily chronic,
how can he be provided for adequately and regularly—so regularly
that he shall be tempted neither to begging nor extravagance? It is
very difficult to set a man up again in the world; and the main hope
of doing it is to pause deliberately over his case, to bring to bear
upon it all the collected information, all the practised experience,
and intelligent thought of men and women accustomed to think out
such problems, and to watch the results of many attempts to solve
them. The ordinary district visitor has no qualifications for forming
an opinion on the best way of meeting the difficulties of the case,
nor usually has the busy clergyman much more. The visitor has very
rarely even a glimmering notion that there is such a way of dealing
with the poverty she pities, she hardly dreams that it is possible to
attack it at its roots, and so she gives the ticket or the shilling. The
clergyman usually feels that this is an unsatisfactory way of treating
the matter; but he knows probably no more than the visitor, in what
part of the country there may be an opening for work for the man
whose trade is slack in London; nor what training would enable the
invalid girl who can only use her hands, and lies bed-ridden and
helpless, to contribute something to the common income; nor what
institution would receive, and how the guardians might pay for, the
cripple who is made an excuse for begging for the whole family, and
how he might learn a trade, and in the future honourably support
himself. It is only a body accustomed to deal with many such cases,
to devote attention to practical questions mainly, that acquires the
knowledge of what measures can be taken under different
circumstances, and knows the latest news as to the labour market,
and the opportunities open to the needy.
I am far from saying that the Charity Organisation Society has, as
yet, in each of the thirty-eight divisions of London, a committee
capable of giving a valuable opinion on a case; nor even that in
every district the committee has realised that to give such an opinion
is its real end and aim. But I do say that this is the intention of the
Society, and that on the committee, if anywhere, you will in each
neighbourhood find the men and women most alive to the
importance of fulfilling this duty; for more and more of the district
committees are finding members who set before themselves the
necessity of learning to execute it.
I know little of your own Charity Organisation Committee, but I
would ask you to remember that it is not a separate society coming
from afar and settling down among you. It is what you workers
among the poor make it; it is you who ought to form it. And that
which I said above you separately were not able to do, collectively
you, and none but you, can do—decide what help it is wise to give
to every poor man or woman who comes before you at a crisis in
life. A representative from every local charity, a few men conversant
with the work of every great metropolitan charity, two or three
active guardians, the clergy and ministers of all denominations, or
some leading member of their staff or congregations, these should
form your district committee. After careful investigation by a skilled
paid officer, the case of an applicant for charity, when it comes
before such a committee as that, has a fair chance of really effectual
treatment. Either someone present will know of work that needs to
be done; or, if the applicant's wants can only be met by distinct gift,
then, all the givers or their representatives being present, the gift
can after due deliberation be made without chance of overlapping,
with certainty that it is sufficient and its object well thought out.
District visitors will find it valuable to study with the district
committee many questions respecting relief. The work of visitors is
one in which I have long taken the deepest interest; their gentle
influence in their informal visits is just what is wanted to bridge over
the great chasm which lies open between classes. Rich and poor
should know one another simply and naturally as friends, and the
more visitors can enter into such real friendship the better. When,
however, they attempt to deal with cases of relief, I feel that they
possess few of the qualifications requisite for doing it wisely, and I
would most seriously urge them, either to leave this branch of help
entirely to others, or with deliberate purpose to set themselves to
learn all that it is essential to them to know before they can do it
well. For there is more at stake, a great deal more, than the wasting
of their own or their friends' money: that would matter
comparatively little if the effect of mistake in its use were not
positively disastrous to the poor. But it is disastrous. We go into the
house of a young working-man; we meet with ready gift the first
need as it arises; we do not pause to remember how the effort to
meet that need was a duty for the young husband and father. We
discourage the quiet confidence, the careful forethought which
would have made a man of him; we diminish his sense of
responsibility; the way he spends his earnings begins to appear to
him a matter of smaller moment—he dissipates them in the public-
house; he gets into the habit of doing so; we, or succeeding visitors,
feel the hopelessness of help increase; not only does the drag upon
our purse become heavier and heavier, but it becomes clearer to us
that the money we give does not adequately feed the wife and
children, while it does lead the husband to hope that if he yields to
the strongly increased temptation to drink, some lady will help, some
charity interpose, the children won't quite starve. We have
weakened the natural ties, broken the appointed order, and the neat,
tidy little home has sunk into the drunkard's desolate room.
Or we take up the case of a widow, and instead of once for all
considering how much she can do for her own and her children's
support, and deliberately uniting our forces to relieve her once for all
of that part of the cost which she cannot meet, we let her come up
to our house whenever she cannot fulfil her engagements, and we
give her, when her story or tears move us, a few shillings. We ease
our own feelings by doing this, but what besides have we done. We
have not fortified her for the battle of life; we have not cultivated in
her the habit of deliberate arrangement as to the best expenditure
of her scanty means. We have done something to teach her how
easy it is, if she gets into debt and the brokers are put in, to go
round to one house after another and get a few shillings from each,
and having met the difficulty for the moment to begin involving
herself in another. Look at her a few years later. The sincere grief of
the widowed mother has been degraded into a means of begging;
the ready tears come, or appear to come, at call; the sacred grief is
for everyone to see in hopes someone may alleviate it with half-a-
crown. The sense of a right to be helped has grown, the sense of
her own duty has diminished. Work has not paid so well that it has
been steadily persevered in. The easily begged money has been
easily spent; the powers of endurance, the habits of industry are
gone; grief is her stock-in-trade; its frequent use has diminished the
power of feeling strongly and sincerely. Perhaps she has discovered
that professions of piety are rewarded with half-crowns, and
expressions, once sincere, have become cant phrases. We are
shocked at her; we say we were glad enough to help her when she
was working, and was feeling simply and strongly, but now it is
different. My friends, who made it different? God gave her the
sacred sorrow and the difficulties of her life to soften and to train
her. It might have been well that we should like true friends have
stood by her, and so far diminished her difficulty as to make it just
within her power to meet it; it might have been well for us to
support one child, to pay school-fees, or to help in some other way
by some one distinct payment, so regular as to become very natural
to her, but in some way we ought to have left her responsibilities to
have been met by her own energies. Then we should have been able
to take and keep the position of friends; she would not have learned
to watch our faces to see what expression on her part extorted pity
or shillings best, but would have come to us when the memories of
the past were too heavy to bear alone, and the words of hope in
God's mercy and wisdom would have been spoken from the heart to
the heart.
Let visitors be friends, and nothing else, leaving money help to
others; or else study seriously all wise effectual ways of help, that
they may not be driven to miserable doles of half-crowns and bread-
tickets, which are surely destructive of vigorous life in the poor, and
of natural healthy relation between friends. I could, you could