Paupers, Orphans and Imbeciles: A Glimpse of Life In

8/14/2019 Paupers, Orphans and Imbeciles: A Glimpse of Life In

1/8

Paupers, Orphans and Imbeciles:

a glimpse of life in the

Hursley Union Workhouse

in the 1880s.

By

Linda Hewett, a resident today.

FIRST BRITISH SERIAL RIGHTS

I open my workhouse kitchen window. I hear the blackbird singing to me from

1


2/8

the roof and theres my robin drinking from a puddle. Im so lucky to live here.

Yes, lucky to live in the Hursley Union Workhouse in 2009.

Thirty three people lived here in 1881, fourteen men, five women and five

children, in two rows of twelve two roomed cottages. George Redhead was the

Master and amazingly is listed in the census of that year as blind. His wife

Maria was the Matron, assisted by her twenty year old daughter, Margaret. At

sixty years old George and Maria seem quite elderly to be carrying out such

onerous duties.

Five of the male inmates, ranging in age from twenty nine to seventy, are

described as imbeciles. Such a frightening term and I wonder exactly what it

means. I wonder also how they fitted in to life in the workhouse. Im sure all

inmates were relieved to find board and lodging but how degrading it must have

been, to admit you couldnt support yourself or your family, to have to apply for

a place and explain your situation to an intimidating Board of male Governors.

What if they didnt offer you a place? What would become of you? And what

about your children?

The Hursley workhouse was tiny compared to most in the 19 th century. It was

usually one of the largest and most significant buildings in the area and even

the sight of it filled people with dread. Peter Higginbotham tells us in his

website, (see end of article), that the largest ones housed more than one

thousand inmates. They were built on the edge of towns where possible, as no

one would choose to live in their shadow. This one was built four miles from

2


3/8

Winchester.

Ellen Martin and her son Henry aged twelve lived here in 1881. Ellen is

described in the census of that year as an unmarried servant, a pauper.

Possibly shed been abandoned by her family for having a child out of wedlock.

How I wish I could talk to her, ask her how it was, how she spent her days.

Im sitting at my kitchen table typing these words when something catches my

eye. I look up and there she is, standing by my window, gazing out. Shes

wearing a rough wool dress with a white smock over it. She turns around and

looks at me, her boots scraping on the stone floor and my kitchen feels

suddenly cold, despite the season.

We appraise one another. I take in her thin, pale face and her rough, red hands.

I want to offer her my hand cream.

Ellen? The census entry told me shes only thirty four but she looks much

older.

Ellen, dont be afraid, I just want to talk to you. About your life here.

She sighs and relaxes her shoulders a little. Oh my goodness! Didnt know

wed got an Inspector comin. Matron never said anythin about it at prayer

time.

I smile at her. I wont keep you long, Ellen, I know you have a lot to do. Seven

oclock is such an early start and its eleven already. What have you been

working on today?

Ive been doing the mending. Im getting good at it, Matron says. But I mustnt

3


4/8

be away from my needle too long. Dont want her thinkin Im a shirker. And

then I must help scrub out the rooms from top to bottom.

I put out my hand to touch her thin arm and theres nothing of her.

Have you been living here long, Ellen?

Must be about twelve years now. Ever since I was expectin my Enry. Her face

closes down and she wipes her cheek. They turned me out, said I was no use

to man nor beast.

She puts on a brave smile.

Still. Its not so bad. The Master and is family are good to us, and they love the

boy. But I do miss im. E as to stay on the mens side sometimes. It breaks

my heart to be parted from im, but we wave across the yard.

I join her by the window as she waves.

Tell me about your room here.

Theres three of us sharing. Elizabeth and me are close in age, and she elps

me with Enry, especially when is chests bad and e cant go to the Parish

School. Poor little soul, e never seems to be really well. That stagnant pool by

the dungeon dont elp.

I stare at her.

Dungeon? What dungeon?

Its at the end there. Ill show you. Inspectors always want to see it.

We cross the yard, and she points out the Masters house at the far end of the

courtyard, where a foetid smell engulfs us. I resist holding my nose and peer

distastefully at the enormous reeking puddle near a forbidding prison like-door

4


5/8

studded with iron nails. A grated window looks out onto the muddy lane.

They puts vagrants down there. Thats if they avent tramped on the four miles

to Winchester. Damp, reekin and cold as a dungeon it is. Dont envy the

Master, avin to live so close!

I peer down through the rusty grating. Its like an empty coal cellar, with a dirty

brick floor, damp walls and a metal bedstead with not a single cover. We both

shiver.

Back in the yard I cant pretend to ignore the smell from the water closets that

divide the courtyard. She wants to show me her sleeping quarters and I follow

her upstairs. Three beds are somehow crammed into the tiny room, with straw

mattresses and rough woollen blankets. No sheets or pillows here. I ask her

what the small metal bowl of watery soap suds is for.

Thats for washing! she replies cheerfully. We pride ourselves on keeping

clean. Every cottage has one and we get towels, not always enough to go

round though they reckon well get some more soon. And they sees we get a

bath once a week.

I stare at the ridiculously small container of cold water, picturing my own array of

bath products. I feel ashamed at all I take for granted.

Her tummy rumbles.

Soon be dinner time. Cant you smell it? Matron is such a clever cook. I

usually do the veggies. We like cooking with her, shes always cheerful and

shes good at making a little go a long way. Its boiled bacon today with cabbage

if were lucky. Dont get meat often, she knew you were coming!

5


6/8

I picture the food Ive planned for supper, chicken pie and runner beans. And

strawberries and cream for pudding.

Meal times are the best time of the day. She swallows as her mouth waters.

It was suet puddun and veggies for dinner yesterday. Its usually bread and

cheese or gruel for breakfast and bread and cheese again for supper. They say

the food is orrible in those big places. Were very lucky here. Well fed, we are!

I bite my lip. She can only weigh about seven stone.

We make our way over to the mens side of the courtyard, trying to avoid the

worst of the mud. Ellen shows me another two roomed cottage where one very

old man lies on a straw mattress.

This is Charles. Kicked by an orse e was and bedridden ere for many a year.

Used to be a soldier, so they do say.

Charles manages a grin through his grey beard, and is that a wink on the

wrinkled face?

I was a real ladies man, y know. They all loved me when I was young but I

couldnt get no work no more, being lame. Matron looks out for me, sees Im all

right. Mustnt grumble.

His rough woollen trousers, tied round with twine to shorten them, look clean

enough, and his cloth cap perches on a rough wooden bench alongside a thick

wool jacket and a smock, waiting patiently for the day when he might go out

again.

Next door is the Old Mens day room. A rough corner cupboard houses a soap

dish and shaving brush, a religious book and some odd bits of crockery.

Theres a wooden bench, a table and a Windsor chair for all to share.

6


7/8

I dont see any razors, Ellen.

No. They all ave to grow beards. Master looks after the razors, just in case.

She looks down at the floor.

I glance up at the solitary shaving brush. Surely they dont all share this?

Where do you keep your personal things? I ask as we walk back across the

yard to what is now my comfortable home.

We dont have much but there is a cupboard in the Womens day room we can

use. Most of our stuff is locked away by the Master along with the clothes we

came in, until we leave.

Can you come and go when you like?

Oh no. You ave to tell the Master, give im three hours notice, and they ave to

write it all down. He lets us go over to the church or to a sick relative without

any fuss. Old Thomas tried going off one day without telling nobody and e got

charged with stealin is workhouse clothes!

I try not to look shocked.

Matron told us that in some places they keeps on going out and then coming in,

never know whether theyre in or out. She says they calls em the ins and

outs!

We both laugh.

What happens if you get sick?

Ellen smiles. Well, Matron and Margaret takes care of us in the two upstairs

sick rooms and we all help with the nursing. Master has some medicines if we

7


8/8

need em.

And what do you do after works over for the day?

We as our supper and then we sit and talk. Clergymans wife comes and

reads to us sometimes, til the bell rings eight oclock for bed. No more candles

after that. But I always sleep well after a days hard work. She stands at my

window once more. Despite her brave words she looks forlorn and exhausted.

My computer screen lights the room and I sit down again in the half light, trying

to gather my thoughts. The room feels warmer now and I know theres no longer

anyone here but me.

Ill keep looking out for Ellen and perhaps Ill see her, carrying a basket of

washing to peg out across the yard, pausing to listen to the blackbird singing on

the slate roof or simply watching our robin drinking from a puddle

For more information on the history of the workhouse,

see Peter Higginbothams website: www.workhouses.org.uk

8

Documents

Paupers, Orphans and Imbeciles: A Glimpse of Life In