Workhouses

 I was introduced to new members , on the local history zoom call, as music teacher by day and investigator of the Victorian poor and downtrodden by night. It is true. I’ve become obsessed with the Maldon Workhouses. Pure History never seems to talk about individuals. It seems to be very bad form to write about the past in any way that brings the poor to life and give them names. Because of this I have become obsessed with making lists of the names of people who were in the workhouses and listed on the censuses. The Marys, Susans, Harriets, Williams, Georges and Isaiahs are all being recorded on my spreadsheet. I’m not sure why but I feel they shouldn’t be forgotten.

In Maldon the new Workhouse (where St Peter’s Hospital is) was, if you read the history books, better than most. The Guardians, a group of rich businessmen, oversaw the running and financing of the workhouse. They were concerned that people should be discouraged from seeking help. The conditions in the workhouse were harsh to keep people out. At the same time the Guardians were working hard to reduce ‘outdoor relief’(giving money to those who didn’t enter the workhouse). These great and good of the Town took their responsibilities of making sure the workhouse stayed profitable very seriously. For their two hot meals and 6oz of bread a day the inmates had to complete a full day’s work. In Maldon that was mainly agricultural labour or domestic work and nursing the older, sicker inmates. There was also a lot of straw plaiting. Children were separated from their mothers, with possibly a half hour visit a day, and given schooling. Maldon was quite proud of its new workhouse and how it treated, particularly, the old men. They had their own room and sitting room and were allowed to apply for day release passes to get out and about. Charles Dickens essay, A Walk in the Workhouse (1850), has particular criticism of the treatment of elderly men and brings the problem to life by quoting a man who was thinking about the previous occupant of his bed, Charley Walters. 

“I am greatly better in my health, Sir; but what I want, to get me quite round,” with his hand on his throat, “is a little fresh air, Sir. It has always done my complaint so much good, Sir. The regular leave for going out, comes round so seldom, that if the gentlemen, next Friday, would give me leave to go out walking, now and then – for only an hour or so, Sir!”

I like to think that the Maldon Guardians had their conscious pricked by Dickens and the fact that he was prepared to use their names.

The old workhouse, on Market Hill, has a blue plaque and was erected by Thomas Plume in 1715. It was one of the first. The idea of looking after the poor in one home, to make your town a nicer place to be appealed to people and at first, with the generosity of Thomas Plume, people were more than happy to contribute through to their taxes.

Everything I thought I knew about workhouses comes from Dickens. The image of Oliver Twist asking for more is all I really had. Was it a lifeline for some people, though? The question of how we help the poor is  not an easy one, although forced labour, less food and harsher treatment than prison offered doesn’t seem a choice many would make.

If you are still reading and haven’t fallen asleep, thinking, “I didn’t click on this blog for a boring history lecture,” then I want to tell you about Martha Newcombe.

Martha was a livewire. She grew up in Tiptree Heath in poor agricultural working family. She hadn’t gained an eduction and by the time she was 18, jobless and unmarried she had no choice but to go to the workhouse. 

In 1868 she attacked the Master of the Workhouse, Mr Charles Timperley and found herself in the dock at the Moot Hall. She had grabbed him by the hair, pulling chunks out, while taking swings at him with her other fist and cursing him in language that was too appalling to write down. The other women held her back, a policeman was called, who took her into custody, claiming never to have heard such a foul mouth on anyone, let alone a woman.

She was fiery and fun but most of all,  angry.

The assault had been brewing for a few days. She was furious that Mr Timperley had put her on bread and water for a previous insubordination. At breakfast she had shaken her piece of bread in his face and told him, in colourful terms,  that it wasn’t enough to live on. At dinner time she was three days into the bread and water fast, having been at work all day and couldn’t take it any more. I imagine having to sit though another meal where everyone else was eating was one torment too many. That’s when she launched her attack. I don’t expect it was pretty. 

In court, Mr Timperley said he hadn’t punished her as much as she deserved. Martha disagreed. All she had done was have a bit of fun with the other girls and blacked up her face as a laugh.

She was sentenced to 21 days for insubordination and 14 days for assault, winking at the judge and saying, “Why, I’m much obliged to thee, Sir!”

Was she cheeky or genuinely grateful to get  35 days with no work and food every day?

I don’t know if my lists make any difference at all but as we head into an era where more people will be struggling I think it’s important to remember that helping people with no money shouldn’t be a worse punishment than what we’d give them for committing a crime.