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Title: Bastille, Bourgeois, and Bumble
Author: Frank Kitz
Date: November 1885
Language: en
Topics: Commonweal, poverty, United Kingdom
Source: Retrieved on 30th August 2021 from https://www.marxists.org/archive/kitz/workhouse.htm
Notes: Published in Commonweal.

Frank Kitz

Bastille, Bourgeois, and Bumble

Amongst the many indignities and miseries endured by the poor, none is

so keenly felt or bitterly resented as those inflicted under the Poor

Law. The poor rightly consider this as a heartless measure for the

punishment and not the relief of their poverty and that this view is

shared by the Poor Law officials themselves is shown by their brutal

methods of administration. Scarcely a week passes but some poor wretch

is done to death by the callous brutality of these minions of the brutal

bourgeoisie, or some worn out worker commits suicide to avoid receiving

the attention of the “Guardians of the Poor.”

We Socialists are engaged in a movement which regards both pauper and

criminal as the products of an iniquitous system of robbery of which

both aristocrat and hateful bourgeois stand guilty. Those who oppose us

in this view often tell us that the present system is the result of

Societary Evolution, for which no particular class is to blame. It is

impossible within the limits of an article to give a history of the

working class or the Poor Law, but as a student of both and as a worker

I assert that the wrong and suffering endured by us to-day are the

result of deliberate, well-planned robberies on the part of the idle

classes of society, and it will be an ill day for them if the workers in

a moment of power should treat these parasites to a tittle of the

torture to which by their laws they have subjected the poor.

Only glancing at the robbery of millions of acres of common and public

lands from the peasantry, and hindrances to locomotion and knowledge in

the past — all contributary causes of poverty — let us fix our attention

on a period which is regarded with affectionate interest by the middle

olass, that of the Reform Bill of 1832, and its pendant the Municipal

Reform Act, 1834. The working class had aided the bourgeoisie to break

the power of the ruling families and installed the middle class in

office. “Help us,” said they, “and your enfranchisment is assured.”;

“The Bill, the whole Bill,” they cried, and in truth the gulled workers

got nothing but the Bill. Their reward was a most infamous cold-blooded

Poor Law. They punished them for poverty created by their despoilers.

Those whom O’Connell before his apostasy from the people’s cause,

fittingly described as “the base brutal and bloody Whigs,” gave

Malthus’s inhuman denial of the right of the poor to live, concrete

expression in the Poor Law Amendment Act of the clay. Coleridge in his

“Table Talk,” speaks of the practical father of this measure as follows

: “I solemnly declare that I do not believe that all the heresies,

sects, and factions, which the ignorance, or wickedness of men has given

birth to, were altogether so disgraceful to man as a Christian

philosopher, or statesman or citizen as this abominable tenet .... but

it is so vicious a tenet, so flattering to the cruelty, the avarice and

sordid selfishness of most men that I hardly know what to think of the

result.”

The immediate result was that the working class were stirred to the

heart. The perfidy of the authors was the theme and incentive of the

noble band who founded first the Working Men’s Association and

afterwards the Chartist Movement.

The working class were ground down with taxation to pay the enormous

debt incurred by their rulers in the liberticidal struggle with the

French Republicans; they were the victims of a fiscal policy framed to

fill the rapacious maws of place-hunters. Starvation stared them in the

face, and whilst the country was being covered with railways, canals and

mills, the results of the inventive brains of the Arkwrights,

Stephensons and Fultons of Labour, there arose on every hand grim

bastilles intended for their incarceration when broken down in the

unequal struggle for life.

Protests were not wanting against this cruelty ; the power and eloquence

of the working-class leaders were directed against its authors, and

fierce and threatening demonstrations were the consequence. The poetry

of Elliott, the fiery eloquence of Harney and O’Connor were allied with

the patient work of Lovett and the politic utterances of Sir Richard

Phillips, to break down this Law, but to no avail. And how do we stand

to day in relation to this stupendous crime committed against the most

helpless, and at the same time most worthy, section of the community,

the struggling poor? They are crowded in thousands within the hideous

cheerless walls of the modem bastilles. Man and Wife separated,

imprisoned, deprived of liberty, fed upon food that is always coarse and

frequently rotten. Let us peer into these wards crowded with aged and

infirm men and women, and ask who are they who are condemned to pass the

remnants of their lives in these infernos ? They are the mothers, and

fathers of the working-class, who have by their toil contributed to make

England’s commercial greatness.

There is no system of torture but has its defenders, and it is fitting

that the peregrinating penny-a-liner of the D.T. who, as Ruskin has it,

“pawns the dirty linen of his soul in order that he may dine,” should

strive to whitewash the workhouse system and prove its advantage to the

poor ; but their employers know better. At a Conference of Poor Law

Guardians held in 1874, Reed declared publicly, “That the Poor Law was

not intended to be either humane or just, but simply to give enough to

preserve the life of the pauper” ; and they literally interpret this,

for in a workhouse not a hundred miles from the City Road, the inmates

greedily devour the offal intended for the pig-tub. The ordinary food is

unfit for human consumption. In some workhouses the inmates are deprived

of the visits of friends and liberty out for three and four months

together, and for the slightest infringement of the arbitrary rules are

put in the Black Hole or Oakum Sheds. In the latter they are frequently

compelled to pick more oakum than is allotted to felons within jails. In

one the corpses of persons who die in the infirmary, or the “stiff

un’s,” as the officers elegantly term them, are brought past the aged

inmates as they sit in the “recreation “ (sic) ground, I suppose “pour

encourager les autres” All inmates dread the infirmary, and with good

reasons, and will sooner hide their ailments than go into what is with

horror alluded to as “over there.” For over there in the general sense

means a quick passage to the grave ; indeed a doctor told a patient, in

a West End workhouse, “You come here to die and not to live.” In

another, a woman in child-labour was forced to scrub out a ward until

too ill to rise.

The cruel economy which has embittered and shortened their declining

years, does not leave them in death. In Nottingham the coffins were so

rotten that the bodies forced out the bottoms. Again, quite recently, in

Clerkenwell, an undertaker spilt a load of dead paupers in the road,

thus literally rattling their bones over the stones. A writer has spoken

of the pauper’s “tomb,” but any cemetery gravedigger will tell you from

what quarter of our public graveyards there comes into the public sewer

the most noxious effluent ; it is from the pauper ditch where they are

hurled together in a common grave. So much for Christian burial. A chalk

mark, easily obliterated, has been thought sufficient name-plate, and

hence it is a common occurrence for friends to mourn over the wrong

coffins. Often a person dies in the infirmary and no notice is taken of

the dying appeal to send for relatives and friends, and the body lies

unclaimed in the dead house, and if not claimed is given over to the

surgeon’s knife. Of pauper lunatics I may have a word to say in the

future.

The streets in the vicinity of a metropolitan workhouse on a paupers

outing, present a sad spectacle in illustration of our civilisation.

Crowds of tottering men and women stream in different directions. Many,

without friends or relatives or places to go to, wander aimlessly about,

without food or pence, till it is time to re-enter their prisons. Woe to

them, if late, for the sure punishment of the Oakum Shed and deprivation

of future liberty awaits them. Striving to hide their detested uniform,

others revisit the scenes of their poverty and struggles and beg a few

pence and a meal from friends, whose lot will be soon as bad as their

own. Aged couples, whose best years have been spent together, parted at

the workhouse gate, re-unite outside and totter through the grim streets

on a weary pilgrimage. Those who taunt us with seeking to dissolve

family ties, should amend their hypocritical marriage service where it

says, “Until death do us part : “ and add, “Or the Relieving Officer.”

Let others talk of evolution and development, but I shall see with

pleasure the dawn of a day of reckoning with these cowardly, cruel ill-

treaters of the poor. Remember, that the class who have been most

conspicuous for their brutality towards the unfortunate of our class are

those who style themselves Liberals, philanthropists, and the friends of

labour, who have erected the callous inhuman doctrines of Malthus into a

science, and allude to your horror of receiving their cold charity as

“wholesome dread of the ‘House,’” and “an aid to thrift and industry.”

Those who are attracted to us from a sheer love of notoriety, and who in

their previous careers never felt or sympathised with the poor, may from

policy deprecate a cry for revenge. But the Socialist who looks forward

to and works for the time when the worker’s evening of life shall be

passed in the enjoyment of what he has earned and produced with his

fellows, cannot forego the desire and opportunity to reckon with those

who bring the workers grey hairs in sorrow to the grave.