Workhouse Characters, and other sketches of the life of the poor.Nevinson, Margaret Wynne
General
Workhouse Characters, and other sketches of the life of the poor.
Nevinson, Margaret Wynne
London (England) -- Social conditions; Poor -- England -- London; Workhouses -- England -- London
"Single life has its advantages," said a tall, handsome woman, who was
nursing a baby by the window. "You with the lines ain't been as perlite
as might be to us who ain't got 'em, but we 'as the laugh over you
really. I'm taking my discharge to-morrow morning, and not one of 'em
dare say me nay; I needn't appear afore Boards and be worried and upset
with 'usbands and Guardians and things afore I can take myself off the
parish and eat my bread independent."
"But why weren't you married, Pennyloaf? Not for want of asking, I'll be
bound."
"No, it warn't for want of asking; fact is, I was put off marriage at a
very early age. I 'ad a drunken beast of a father as spent his time
a-drinking by day and a-beating mother by night--one night he overdid it
and killed 'er; he got imprisonment for life, and we was put away in the
workhouse schools; it would have been kinder of the parish to put us in
the lethal chamber, as they do to cats and dogs as ain't wanted. But we
grew up somehow, knowing as we weren't wanted, and then the parish found
me a situation, under-housemaid in a big house; and then I found as the
young master wanted me, the first time as any human soul had taken any
interest in me, and, oh, Lord! I laughs now when I think what a 'appy
time it was. Since then I've had four children, and I have twenty-five
shillings a week coming in regular besides what I can make at the
cooking. I lives clean and respectable--no drinking, no bad language; my
children never see nor hear what I saw and heard, and they are
mine--mine--mine. I always comes into the House for confinement, liking
quiet and skilled medical attendance. I never gets refused--the law
daren't refuse such as me. I always leaves the coming in till the last
moment; then there are no awkward questions, and when they begin to
inquire as to settlement, I'm off. All the women in our street are
expecting next week, their husbands all out of work, and not a pair of
sheets or the price of a pint of milk between them, all lying in one
room, too, with children and husbands about, as I don't consider decent,
but having the lines, it's precious hard for them to get in here, and
half of them daren't come for fear he and some one else will sell up the
'ome whilst they're away. You remember Mrs. Hall, who died here last
week? Well, she told me that her husband swore at her so fearful for
having twins that the doctor sent her in here out of his way, and what
with all the upset and the starvation whilst she was carrying the
children, she took fever and snuffed out like a candle. No, the
neighbours don't know as I'm a bad woman; I generally moves before a
confinement, and I 'as a 'usband on the 'igh seas.
"Well, I'm going back to-morrow to my neat little home, that my
lady-help has been minding for me, to my dear children and to my regular
income, and I don't say as I envies you married ladies your rings or
your slavery."
A WELSH SAILOR
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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