Most people have heard of the boy who asked for more in CHARLES DICKENS' novel OLIVER TWIST. Oliver was a poor & miserable child who lived in a workhouse, and like all workhouse children, Oliver was permanently hungry owing to the totally inadequate meals.
'It is difficult for persons these days to appreciate the humility of appearing before the Board of Guardians and discussing every intimate detail of your life with them in order to obtain a grant of a few shilling, which only provided a fraction of the necessities of life'.
Poor law dates back to the reign of George III (1760 —1820) when legislation was passed making each parish responsible for its own poor and, as most of the poor in those days had nowhere to live, the Churchwardens were directed to build workhouses to accommodate this class of the population.
Now parishes outside the city in the 18th Century were very large affairs but due to the population of England being less than one third of todays the Country was very sparsely populated and, in the rural areas, the authorities could not have been very wealthy.
It was practical therefore for various parishes to merge their resources and erect buildings as a joint venture and these were known as Union Workhouses. All persons wanting to receive relief were to appear at the workhouses in which they were to take shelter.
There seems to be no record of relief being given to those persons who did not want accommodation although there must have been people who had a roof over their head but had no money to buy food and the bare necessities of life.
Parish of Mangotsfield
Emlyn Jones (1899) writing in his History of Mangotsfield about the late 18th Century states that very great alterations were being made with reference to the poor and old and the making of new roads in the Parish of Mangotsfield.
Mangotsfield decided to go it alone with regards to a workhouse and in 1770 brought a scheme into operation following a decision at a vestry meeting.
From this a most important step was taken in respect of better accommodation for the poor and premises were bought called the Ring of Bells situated in the Lane called Mangotsfield Street~ together with one other tenement adjoining the Ring of Bells. The sum quoted as being paid was £126 for the Ring of Bells and £57 for the adjoining property. This seems to be the original poor house arrangement for the Parish of Mangotsfield; formerly houses had been rented and the paupers boarded out. So in the district this appears to be the first record of a workhouse being owned and administered by the local authority.
Apparently the poor were very numerous in those days and it will never be known whether the following was designed to discourage people from applying for poor relief or whether it was required so that a record could be made of the number of persons who were in that category: but at a vestry meeting dated 27 - July 1770 it was resolved, 'that the church wardens and overseers of the poor of the said Parish of Mangotsfield immediately cause to be made a sufficient number of letters of the initial names of the Parish of Mangotsfield of red cloth and cause the same to be sewed or fixed upon the right arms of the uppermost garment, gown or coat of the sundry paupers and other which they shall or may relieve or cause to be relieved from time to time.
Furthermore they shall not relieve any person or persons what so ever who will not wear the said badge or mark of distinction or who shall by any means tear or remove the same badge or refuse to display it. And also that the said church wardens and overseers do not upon any account presume to believe any persons whatsoever not conforming to this order as they will answer it at their peril'.
At the following meeting in August of that year it was noted that the list of paupers which was presented at the meeting quoted such things as:
'he agreeing to wear the badge, or she accepting the badge'. Some however rebelled because Minute number 31 reads: 'That widow X be immediately compelled to quit the poor house and beby no means permitted to inhabit the said house, she refusing to wear the badge, and that if she is refractory she shall be brought before the Justice of the Peace to be dealt with as the law directs'.
During the next 60 years things must have become worse because in 1833 the matter of the poor house in Mangotsfield was a burning question as the original building was now not large enough for the demands of the Parish. A committee was apparently appointed and visited other areas to inspect recently purpose-built poor houses. A visit was made to Wickwar as that district apparently was well ahead in caring for its. poor. Subsequently a new poor house was built for the Parish of Mangotsfield at a cost of £1100 and 3 acres of ground on Mangotsfield Common were allotted for this, the building being completed in 1835.
Keynsham Parish
It was in 1836 when it was decided to amalgamate with other Parishes for the purpose of administering the requirements of the Poor Laws and after a number of meetings and discussions it was decided to erect a new workhouse at Keynsham for several combined Parishes which were thereafter referred to as The Union. The building of a workhouse at Keynsham was not viewed very favourably by the Mangotsfield district as it was on the far side of the combined areas.
The Minute books tell the story in most dismal terms. They record the fact that they had recently built a large poor house at a cost of £1100 out of the rates and asked the Government and the Union not to erect new premises at Keynsham but to utilise some already in existence at Siston. The Minutes record that, owing to the enormous burden on the rates,many of the ratepayers were poorer than the paupers they relieved. However the Union built the workhouse at Keynsham, and Mangotafield was left to do the best it could. After the amalgamation and the new building at Keynsham the old one on Mangotsfield Common was let out in tenements but remained the property of the local authority.
These Poor Law arrangements were in force until the Local Government Act, 1894 when the old liabilities and powers of the vestry were vested in the local authority with the exception of strictly Church affairs. This legislation was the end of the old vestry meetings with all their liabilities, powers and responsibilities.
Subsequent to the 1894 legislation which made poor relief the responsibility of the local authorities, the allocation of money to persons who were not living in institutions was administered by the Board of Guardians and the following is an account of the amount of money distributed in the last half of 1896 and the first half year of 1897. There were six Parishes and 18 Guardians:
Board of Guardians
A story of Mr Ernest Curme for instance which occurred some 55 years ago when he, as a small boy, accompanied his mother to be interviewed by the Board of Guardians. Although more than 50 years have elapsed he states that the incident is as real to him today as it was immediately after the event, his story is as follows:
'The years of 1927 and 1928 were very bad for the people of Bristol who were poor. To be poor then was to manage to survive on bread (stale) and margarine. A dish of stew or some cuttings was a real luxury although there was a bowl of soup which could be purchased for a halfpenny and was provided by societies who cared.
The shadow over all this was the dreaded Board of Guardians. The title deceived you — they guarded the money they had to dole out, nothing else.
The Committee of the Board of Guardians, operating from various centres consisted of four persons, three well fed, well suited gentlemen and a 'Lavender and Lace fine looking well bred lady who was the most cruel, vindictive person you could wish to meet.
To warrant a committee meeting you had to apply first and were then summoned to the Board’s Office.
I remember as a lad of four, five and six years going with my widowed mother to those dark places built of stone, and like a fortress with massive iron gates. These were called the workhouse or just the Guardians.
100 Fishponds Road - Board of Guardians - by George White
One was situated in Avonvale Road St.George which I attended with my mother and is now an elderly people’s club. The other one after we moved which I remember as oppressive and cruel was 100 Fishponds Road. It was also a workhouse for those with no home, such as children split up from their parents and wives from husbands.
The entrance to 100 Fishponds Road is just past Eastville Police Station and you entered through pulled back iron gates. In the Lodge was an attendant resplendent in a serge uniform and official peak cap.
He was at the window marked ‘Enquiries’ and until you showed him the recommended letter or card you could not pass. These servants of the Board enjoyed their work. They seemed to delight in the slow ponderous manner they looked at the person who tendered the letter as if to make sure he or she was not an intruder. To pass through without a pre-arranged command would have meant that there would be no money for you.
When the ritual had been finished a point of the uniformed hand to a slope and the steps to the sanctum of the waiting room. To enter this you passed through two very high doors and entered a wooden - floored room of long forms. Another uniformed official told you where to sit after reading the same letter.
Waiting room it might have been called but to my young eyes the atmosphere was of greyness. All around sat others, men, women, other children, but no sound of talk.
If a child cried the mother or parent was told to go outside until the child was quiet.
One day we had to sit by a tortoise stove with its chimney going up to the ceiling but although the weather was wintery and cold not a scrap of fire was within and the room was like an icebox. The tattered coats of the men, the faces of despair on the women, and children’s patter gave out the cry, We are poor, not by necessity but born into it, so we have to suffer. Why?'
The official in the uniform strutted up and down by the forms. He was warm, well fed, and had a job. To imagine his thoughts you only had to look at his face.
These wretches were under his dominance. They could be sent away if he wished. This was the power by authority of the Board of Guardians — King George V was on the throne and all was well with Bristol. You could see his smile of contempt and feel that he would have had us put down like animals if he had had his way.
The dreaded Committee Room
At precisely 9 am the procession of human—beings started. As they were called the parents and children were swallowed up through the oak door marked ‘Private’. The summons started with the attendant coming out of his door and standing in front of the forms to. read out the surname and when answered, this way' was thrown at the person who stood up. This was the dreaded Committee Room.
My mother’s name would not be called until 10 O’clock but you had to be there at nine anyway. I looked around and smelt Jeyes fluid, the carbolic smell to dry out the poor smell. The poor smell was of damp houses or rooms and the clothes of shabby appearance. All the better clothes were of course in the Pawn Shop. The footwear was of varied appearance. Some shoes would have the tops broken away from the uppers showing the socks or bare feet.
On the faces were expressions of despair, resigned and fed - up with the position of under-dog in a rich society. These were the natives, born of the system the British Empire which we learned of at elementary school as the pioneers. The teachers had pointed to the maps and stated that all the Empire was coloured red and meant that we were rich and powerful, in fact the sun never set on the British Empire.
The cold hall of the Board of Guardians was proof, but I at that age did not ponder why.
The time wore on and we moved to the first floor at 9.55 am. At precisely 10 O’Clock the attendant walked to the front calling out 'follow me, Mrs C', and led the way into the hallowed Inner Sanctum.
The heat hit us like a tropical breeze. The Board of Guardians Committee of course were not of the class we were and so had a coal fire. We had pointed out to us seats at the end of a very long oak polished table. At the other end sat three men and one middle—aged woman in very fine clothes. Mother’s colour had come back with the warmth and I was very warm for some time.
'Why are you are asking for more money' ?
The woman spoke first. She said, 'Why are you are asking for more money? -a widow?, with two sons and in receipt of eight shillings per week, including coal allowance. Have your circumstances altered in any way?'
Mother looked from one to the other. I could see no mercy or pity in their stern faces and mother answered, 'The rent of the council flat has increased to 3/6 , it was 3/— two weeks ago!’ One of the Board men wrote down the details, and then silence as the four heads bent as they mumbled to each other. It was like a scene from the 'When Did You Last See Your Father?' picture except we were sitting down. The woman spoke again, 'The Committee has agreed to grant you the 8/6 for the extra rent and the extra 6d for last week. This week 9/— and until the Relieving Officer calls 8/6 per week. Good Day Mrs Curme, collect your allowance in the office by the door.
We were then ushered out through another door where an attendant gave mother a book to sign and handed over 9/— in cash.
Then down the steps towards the big gates. Mother squeezed my hand and said, 'Thank God that’s over and we've got the money again.' I looked up and saw the worry written all over her young face and was wondering again, Why?
Outside the gates we were in the throng of normal people rushing here and there. The shops by the Black Swan were full of food and mother with 9/— for three. Being poor was not very nice but we were a happy three. We never went hungry~. but when we got older we knew that mother did on very many occasions.
The Relieving Officer was the outside spy to trap or catch someone out. The truth was not always told in that committee room, so someone would call without warning to see if a banquet was being held at the Board of Guardians’ expense, or a child had been added which did not exist.
Home Visit from the Relieving Officer
For ignorant, simple people the white lie to get an extra shilling but the Relieving Officer would often come to investigate. It happened that the one for our district was a spinster, a real ‘vinegar puss’. She came and her eyes were like darting objects as she entered the house. She did not sit down but went to see where the sink was, and the lavatory. Questions were asked all the time and mother was ill-at-ease, but the objects at our house were the bare essentials so nothing could be found for her to say, 'You should sell that,'- etc. Some people on this allowance had to sell such things as gramophones and anything called non—essential to living. They were deducted the amount which the Relieving Officer said the object could be sold for. Even if you could not sell it, it was still deducted from your next Board of Guardians a allowance.
Such were the days of old, when the rich were very rich and the poor were just existing. Some husbands in despair lost themselves in the pub and families had no money at all. Then if the mother went again she was given a food voucher which could be spent only on food. Then some husbands sold this for less than the purchasing value and eventually they would go to prison and the family would eat again.
