The Down and Out King - 3

 EMILY

Go, wretch, and gaze on yonder hill,

Which thy rich friends have built,

(The prison homes of poverty,)

And bless them, if thou wilt.

We started our new jobs on April 1st, and I think we were both quite relieved to have the decision made. We were met by the outgoing couple, Master William Richards and his wife Martha, the Matron. We were also introduced to our paid staff. Anne Nurse, a woman of about 50, is the industrial teacher, and gives lessons in knitting and sewing. Julia Ponkis is the nurse, and
William Dennis is the Porter. I was surprised that he should be a paid employee, rather than a pauper, as I am sure the porters at my previous workhouse were, and also at the one we had visited in Stanwell.

We settled into our living quarters, which are quite large and roomy - and as we have no children, we have room to spare with the two extra bedrooms. I am keen to put my individual touch to the decorating, however, if this is to be our home for some length of time.

John studied the accounts that first day, and made a list of things he wanted to ask. We needed to establish how things had been working before we start making changes. Perhaps there will be fewer changes than he had anticipated.

The following morning, John called a meeting of all the important people in the house - knowing that it would disrupt routine to some extent - but not worried by that. He wanted the paid employees, plus the paupers who had positions of some importance in the scheme of things - the cooks, grocers, overseers of the various work parties, etc. There were about 20 in all when we met together in the meeting room, set aside for the use of the guardians - for their twice-monthly meetings. We would meet with them the next day, but John wanted to bring our point of view, with some backup from the current members of the workhouse, to the meeting, in order to have some substance to his
proposals.

When everyone was seated, many of them looking uncomfortable, others looking around with interest, never having been in this grand room before, he began.

“Thank you all for coming. I know that you know who we are, but I wanted to introduce ourselves to you properly, and find out from you what your concerns might be for the future of this place. My name is John Stanley, and this is my wife Emily. Emily has had experience of workhouse life before, having been a teacher for several years at the workhouse in Newmarket. It was upon her urging that we applied for the post here, which must show that she has positive memories of her time there. My background is in accounting, and I must admit that I take on this job with some trepidation. The financial and management aspects do not worry me, but I feel that I am somewhat hampered in
what I would like to have happen by the history of these sorts of places. How many times have I asked about why a certain thing is done as it is, only to be given the answer, 'Because it has always been that way. That was how it was set up.' Well, the workhouse system, and this very institution were set up in 1840 - more than 40 years ago - and it is my thought that it should change with the times. I intend to make many changes, and would like your support when I do so. But first I wish to find out what you think should be changed.”

The group sat there, not saying a word. Everyone was frightened to be the first to speak.

So I decided that a direct question might be the way to go. “Miss Nurse, do you find the
education of the children to be adequate to their needs?”

“I hope that I do the best I can,” she said defensively.

“Yes, I am sure you do. But could you do better if you had more books, more supplies, more
helpers? I am not questioning your methods - but only asking if there is some way in which we can make your job easier for you and better for the children.”

“Well, I suppose we could do with more books, and equipment. And more helpers too. As you know I teach industrial subjects which fit the girls with an occupation so that when they leave, they will have a better chance of finding work.”

“That is wonderful. And have those who have left found work?”

“I don’t know. I would hope so. But we don’t get much information after they leave.”

“And what about the other children - those who just get the basic education of reading writing
and arithmetic?”

Now it was the turn of the other teacher, George Parker, to reply. I later found out that he is a pauper, but had taught in his previous life so that is what he chose to do here. “They of course could use
more in the way of books and supplies as well. We have quite a small group of children here. And yet we could always do with more helpers. Sometimes I have quite a job of keeping them in order.”

“What about if we had some of the mothers of the children helping you?”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be suitable,” he quickly replied. “It is the workhouse policy to separate the children from their parents, and they have Sunday afternoons to be together. But if the mothers were with their children at school, they would be a nuisance, always wanting the best for their child and getting in my way.”

“I don’t think that just because it has always happened that way will count very much with us. I would like to experiment, if you don’t mind, and have one mother, whom I shall pick, help each of you teachers in your work. And if you think, after a reasonable period of time, say a month, that it is not working, we can return to the old methods.”

They both looked as if they would like to object, but thought the better of it, and reluctantly
agreed to my plan.

My husband spoke again. “Now let us talk about the food. I know that it is traditional that certain foods are served at certain times of the day in workhouses. It has almost become a commandment - thou shalt only eat bread and gruel. We wish to make some changes in the diet of our friends in
this house. What do you think about that?”

“I can’t do any more cooking than I do already,” put in the chief cook, Mrs. Hannah Martin. I can’t be doing with making fancy things for everybody like I do for your family. I don’t have the time or the helpers.”

“But there are 135 people in this workhouse. More of them could be helping you. I don’t think
that is a problem. As far as the time involved in cooking - I am just looking for more variety within the diet - not more overall cooking - so the time involved should not be any more either. For instance, I
tasted the gruel this morning, and I found it watery and sticky and bland.”

“I followed the recipe exactly. It is just like it is supposed to be. 8 ounces of oats to 4 pints of water, cooked the night before, and heated up.” She was very incensed by his criticism.

“I don’t think it would take any more time or effort to add salt to the mixture, or treacle -
perhaps a bit of each.”

“But it isn’t in the recipe to do that.”

“I will give you a new recipe which does have it in,” I put in. I have collected a book of suitable recipes for large quantity cooking from other workhouses, which use the same basic ingredients but just vary somewhat in how they are cooked or flavoured.”

“Well, I suppose I could try that,” she agreed.

“We won’t make all the change at once. We will try things out and assess from speaking to
the paupers as to whether they like their food better for the changes.”

“Now another change I wish to make is in the way the casuals are treated. You, Mr. Dennis, are responsible for getting them in each day and settling them and getting the required work from them the next day. How do you find the method currently used?”

“I do what I was told to do. I cannot change it on my own volition, but if you wish me to make
changes, I will do that,” he said.

“Well, for the moment, I wish you to make sure that the casuals have a decent meal when they come in, and also in the morning, and sufficient blankets. How many do they get at the moment?”

“Two.”

“And are they cold at night?”

“I expect they are somewhat cold. But this isn’t a hotel, you know, Master. If we make it too
comfortable here, we will have the word get around and all the tramps in the country will come for their stay here.”

“And how is it wrong to make poor desperate people more comfortable for one night?”

“Well, as long as they can’t come back again within the month, and I can say no when the limit is
reached, I suppose that perhaps it will be all right.”

“I am sure that there are good and bad workhouses across this country. I want ours to be thought of as a good workhouse - where people don’t say that they would rather be in prison. I think perhaps that is about all the changes we can take on board for one day. I would like to meet with you again in a month’s time to see how you all feel the changes have affected the place, and in the meantime, you can be thinking about what other changes we can make. Thank you for your time this morning. Please feel free to contact me or my wife at any time with your problems.”

They filed out of the room, somewhat confused by what they had heard, but with a lightening of
their expressions, as if perhaps hope had come into their lives.