Rattle His Bones - A Child in the Workhouse

 

Taken from “Rattle his Bones”, A century of Poor Law, based on records of the workhouses at Dulverton and Williton” by Jack Hurley.

A Child in the Workhouse.

It was all around the town. 'That stepmother has been beating the living daylights out of little Joey again'.

The living daylights meaning wits. The living daylights which, if extinguished, make the darkness of the mind. Little Joey, aged six, would never grow up to earn a living. His body scars would heal, the emaciated frame fill out, but the brain of this cruelly-handled child had been softened for ever. He would live to become Old Joe. . . and die, at the age of 79, in the 'big-house' at Williton which was his home for 73 years since the day the gates opened to admit him as a pathetic waif-refugee from his stepmother's beatings and starvings.

The voice of the people crudely yet effectively interceded for Joey. It became a raucous chorus, putting the boy where he would at least be safe. It had to be the workhouse; there was nowhere else. In November 1883 the West Somerset Free Press carried the following report:

“For some time past the people of Watchet have felt considerable indignation at what they believe to be the systematic ill-treatment of a child by its stepmother and father. An organised protest has taken place with the object of obtaining possession of the child, a report having been circulated that he was being starved.

A large number of people assembled and marched through the town with a banner bearing the words Starvation Baby Farming, and they carried three effigies to represent the father, stepmother and child. The last-mentioned effigy had the title Object of Pity. The town was thronged with spectators. The effigies of the stepmother and the father were burnt outside their house, and the people shouted, 'Bring out poor Joey'”.

The first demonstration, though, showing plainly the people's mood, had no practical effect, but the protest were not abandoned, and the newspaper reported:

“There has been a renewal of the disturbances which have lately been provoked among the inhabitants by the alleged ill-treatment of a child. A very large crowd again assembled outside the house and relieved their feelings by hooting and shouting, afterwards burning some effigies and throwing stones through the windows. The whole affair was very unseemly and discreditable, especially when it is remembered that everything which can be done to obtain an investigation into the charge of neglect and ill-treatment is being done by those gentle-men who have interested themselves in the case, and therefore no good can now be gained by such nosy demonstrations”.

Yes, action was being taken. The police superintendent was collecting statements that could be put in as evidence, and six of the town's leading citizens went before the guardians to plead for action. It was wrong, they said, that a child should be starved in the midst of a respectable community. They alleged that Joey had not been allowed out of his home for three years; that he was tied up in the pantry while the rest of the household were at meals, and that he was being thrown crusts the others would not eat. The townspeople were so angry that there had been a near-riot.

The guardians invoked powers enabling them to prosecute the stepmother and father and to pay the costs of the rates. But the demonstrators were impatient. Again they marched. Again the stones were flung, the effigies burnt. Again came the cry; 'Bring out little Joey'.

This time the father delivered him to the people. . . tied up in a bundle. A local butcher took him home, fattened him for a fortnight, then took him to the workhouse, the guardians having agreed to receive him.

Joey was promptly certified as imbecile. But he had found a home which would be his for 73 years. His stepmother and father appeared at petty sessions on charges of neglecting to provide sufficient food and necessaries for the boy, thereby seriously injuring his health, and with assault with intent to do bodily harm. For five hours the magistrates listened to a tale of revolting cruelty, and the defendants were committed for trial at Quarter Sessions.

The police court and its approaches were thronged with people. They had tried to molest the defendants and their solicitor on the way to court. The bench chairman appealed to them to 'act like Englishmen' now the case was going for trial, and to cease persecuting the defendants.

The trial produced an ingenious submission by defence counsel. He contended that the stepmother could not be called upon to answer a charge of neglecting the child because the law did not recognise that the stepmother had a duty. Counsel relied upon a Statute of Elizabeth which named father, mother, grandfather and grandmother in guardianship, but not stepmother. Rejecting the submission, the court chairman said that in any case the stepmother had a moral duty. Counsel bridled; he called it monstrous that the stepmother should be indicted for an offence the law did not recognise.

On the ample evidence available the jury's verdict was a foregone conclusion. Gaoling the two accused for twelve months, the chairman said 'Nothing could have been worse, nothing more un-natural than the stepmother's treatment of this child. Her conduct has been atrocious. Never was there a case so deserving of punishment'.

Little Joey, who grew into Old Joe of the workhouse, lived beyond its function and passed away into the era of the Welfare State. He could be counted a workhouse inmate for 46 years, an inmate of the public assistance institution (the later name) for 18 years, and for eleven years a walk-about patient of the Williton District Hospital for the Aged Sick. The roofs and walls of the abode were the same. Only the titles had changed. Changes beyond the narrow limits of Old Joe's understanding, yet he must have felt them. He ambled about the streets, shook hands with every local he met, and expressed himself to the maximum of his vocal achievement. Those words were three: 'Gotta pipa baccy'? Old Joe died in 1958.

~ Joseph Burge 1879 – 1958 ~

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