ITV’s new two-part ‘Secrets from the Workhouse’ (concludes Tuesday 2nd July, 9pm) has provoked a new flurry of interest in the institution which, over the years, has generally had a pretty bad press. As someone with a longstanding interest in workhouses (my great-great grandfather died in one) and also a consultant on the programme, it’s interesting to consider whether they were as awful as they’re generally portrayed.
You can certainly find plenty of examples to back up such a view. In researching my ‘Grim Almanac of the Workhouse’, I found well documented instances of people committing suicide rather than enter such a place, or killing themselves after a spell inside. Cruelty and abuse towards inmates, when exposed, also received prominent coverage in the newspapers. Violence between inmates, too, was a hazard of workhouse life. For those who left the workhouse, re-establishing a new life could be an uphill struggle, and the stigma of a spell in the workhouse was enormous – something that might never again be spoken of.
Workhouses were intended to be deterrent places and the monotonous routine of early-to-bed, early-to-rise, up to sixty hours of labour a week for the able-bodied, a diet of plain food, and the separation of family members, certainly achieved that end. Hardship though is always relative and for many people the workhouse provided, if not a lifeline, then a substantial improvement on the conditions they had been experiencing on the outside.
Over the years, the physical conditions inside workhouse improved enormously. By the end of the nineteenth century, inmates were often provided with books, newspapers, occasional outings to the countryside or seaside, entertainments, weekly rations of snuff, tobacco and tea. The medical care available in workhouse infirmaries improved enormously, particularly after access was opened up to non-inmates. And from 1900, an overhaul of workhouse food – and the publication of an official workhouse cookbook - provided such tempting menu options such as Irish stew, pasties, shepherd’s pie, and roly-poly pudding.
It is also too easy to make simplistic assumptions about various ‘negative’ aspects of the workhouse system. Workhouse clothing’ (the term ‘uniform’ was never used in official regulations) is often decried as a means by which inmates were deliberately dehumanised. In fact, for paupers turning up at the workhouse gate in rags, providing them with two sets of serviceable clothing (one to wear, and one in the wash) seems a basic human decency. It is also unsurprising that such clothing, bought in bulk, should all follow a similar style. The segregation of inmates, too, can be more complex than might be imagined. The separation of inmates in terms of being of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ character, rather than being a moral pronouncement on the individuals concerned, was often something that groups such as married women themselves demanded, not wishing to share accommodation with those they considered disreputable such single mothers or prostitutes.
As in any institution, inmates were never simply passive pawns of an oppressive system and always found ways to undermine authority, whether it be smuggling alcohol or drugs onto the premises, or arranging liaisons with the opposite sex. A lovely illustration of paupers ‘playing the system’ was provided in the early 1900s at the Steyning workhouse in Sussex. After a female inmate became pregnant, it was clear that the separation between the men’s and women’s quarters was not as secure as it should be. Despite the application of ‘unclimbable’ fencing, men were still caught climbing over the barrier and a female inmate had a second illegitimate child whilst in the care of the workhouse. An inquiry into how male and female inmates were managing to pass messages to one another discovered that they were in fact just using the general postal service. Inmates were allowed to send and receive private letters and the service in those days was so good that a letter posted at 10am could arrive back on the other side of the house by 11.30.
Part two of ‘Secrets from the Workhouse’ – subtitled ‘New Beginnings’ – continues this theme with several examples of eventual triumph over adversity as we follow more of the stories uncovered by Felcity Kendal, Brian Cox, and Barbara Taylor Bradford.
The History Press website has a page dedicated to workhouse related print and ebook titles and you can also find out more about the fascinating and multi-faceted history workhouse by visiting my own website www.workhouses.org.uk
Peter Higginbotham lives in West Yorkshire and has been researching the workhouse for more than a decade. As well as publishing a number of books and giving talks on the subject, he regularly contributes to magazines and radio and TV programmes such as Heir Hunters, Coming Home, and Who Do You Think You Are?