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Britain’s workhouses were the final resort. Entering one, with your family in tow, was a decision made only when every other option had been exhausted.
It meant enduring long, grueling hours, subpar meals, dreadful sanitation, being separated from your loved ones, and the grim possibility of never regaining your freedom. Workhouses were bleak, sorrowful environments, and they gave rise to numerous heartrending stories.
10. The Scandal of Andover Workhouse
The harsh conditions of workhouses are well-known. The general populace of Georgian and Victorian Britain were aware of it too. But there's a significant difference between just knowing that life in a workhouse was dreadful and actually hearing about the specific horrors that took place.
Workhouses were managed by masters and matrons. Guardians, under the Poor Law Amendment Act of 1834, were required to make regular visits to ensure the houses were being operated properly. However, in 1845, previously ignored conditions at Andover Workhouse came to light, with rumors of abuse finally reaching someone willing to take action. The workhouse's master was so brutal that between 1837 and 1845, 61 individuals committed serious crimes just to escape the workhouse and be sent to prison.
Before the Andover scandal broke, one common task assigned to inmates was bone crushing, where animal bones were ground into powder to be used as fertilizer. Starving inmates, however, nearly rioted over discarded bones, desperately trying to extract and eat the marrow. During trials investigating the harsh conditions, some prisoners tasked with grinding bones revealed that others often stole the bones to consume the marrow or chew on them.
Children scavenged for food scraps and raw potatoes meant for the pigs, women were frequently subjected to sexual assault, and inmates who defied orders were sometimes forced to sleep in the morgue as punishment.
When these conditions were exposed to the public, the head of the institution was dismissed. The laws intended to protect Britain’s most vulnerable citizens were also revised. However, the full details of what transpired behind the closed doors of Andover remain unknown to this day.
9. Timothy Daly's Influence on Florence Nightingale
In December 1864, an inquest was held into the death of an Irishman named Timothy Daly. Daly, aged 28, had been treated for acute rheumatism at the Holborn Union Workhouse infirmary for six weeks. Afterward, he was sent home but was later admitted to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital a week later, where he died the following day.
The inquest concluded that Daly's death was caused by severe bedsores and extreme exhaustion, the result of neglect at the Holborn infirmary. Even if he had survived, the medical officers believed the sores, which had gone deep to the bones of his hips, would have left him permanently disabled.
A deeper investigation revealed the horrifying treatment he endured. Confined to a bed that was only 0.8 meters (2.5 ft) wide and barely longer than his body, Daly developed bedsores after about four weeks. Both he and his bedding were filthy, his sores were treated just once with a poultice of beer grounds and linseed, and his bandages were never replaced. Daly claimed he saw the doctor pass him numerous times, yet the doctor never stopped to check on him.
Around this same time, Florence Nightingale was pushing for reform in the medical facilities of workhouses. Daly's tragic death was the case she highlighted in her letters to the Poor Law Board, urging them to take action or face more fatalities. It finally caught their attention. By January 1865, the much-needed overhaul was in the works. Nightingale later wrote to a friend, “I was so much obliged to that poor man for dying.”
8. Euphemistic Titles
Whether you entered a workhouse voluntarily or were born into one, it carried a lifelong stigma. The shame was so severe that in 1904, laws were passed to help children born in workhouses break free from the shadow that followed them. Before the change, a birth certificate would list the workhouse as the child's birthplace, but after the new laws, alternative addresses were used instead.
While this made it more difficult to trace a person's family history, most workhouses used a standardized address on birth certificates. For instance, the Pontefract workhouse was listed as 1 Paradise Gardens in Tanshelf, Pontefract, Barton-upon-Irwell became 21 Green Lane in Patricroft, Eccles, and Bristol was recorded as 100 Manor Road in Fishponds, Bristol.
At times, the address matched the actual location of the institution, but that wasn't always the case. For example, Liverpool was listed as 144A Brownlow Hill, even though that address didn’t exist. In some instances, when a street address included the term “workhouse,” the address was altered to remove the reference.
By 1918, the same measures were applied to death certificates because the stigma of dying in a workhouse also carried over to a family’s reputation. In 1921, Scotland followed suit by changing their laws as well.
7. The Opulent Rowton Houses
Sometimes, the best indicator of how dire a situation is lies in what is considered luxurious.
In 1892, Lord Rowton opened the first of his Rowton Houses. These were created as an affordable alternative for people in need of temporary shelter. Rowton personally funded the construction of these hostels, the first of which included 470 cubicles, ensuring they were equipped with modern amenities.
The beds had clean sheets, there was enough hot water for everyone to wash after a long day's work, a designated place to dry clothes, and tiled bathrooms with hooks to keep personal belongings safe. Each cubicle even came with its own window.
To everyone's surprise, the homes featured modern conveniences like their own libraries, reading rooms, and writing rooms. They also employed a shoemaker and had shops where residents could buy their necessities at reasonable prices. In contrast to traditional workhouses, lodgers could enjoy fresh salads, milk, coffee, tea, and vegetables.
Officially known as hostels, they were exempt from the usual regulations applied to workhouses or hotels. The initial Rowton Houses became extremely popular, prompting the construction of more. These new buildings were even larger than the first. After World War I, Rowton Houses became home to numerous servicemen returning from war and needing to rebuild their lives. During World War II, they offered essential shelter for refugees and temporary accommodations for families escaping the city. Post-war, the homes were primarily used by elderly residents.
6. William Crooks
For many in Georgian and Victorian Britain, poverty was a relentless cycle, nearly impossible to break. But every so often, someone found a way out.
William Crooks, born into a poor family with six siblings, found himself sent to the Poplar union workhouse with most of his family after his father lost his arm in an accident. Separated from his parents within the workhouse, Crooks witnessed events that would deeply influence his future. In 1866, he witnessed the bread riots, where famished men attacked a baker’s wagon as it arrived. Before the cart even reached the grounds, the brawl had begun, with men grabbing bread and devouring it right on the spot.
Through his mother’s efforts to pay for his education, Crooks rose to become one of the leaders of the dockworkers’ unions. His journey eventually led him to be elected to the London City Council, where he focused on improving the conditions for those still trapped in the hardships he had escaped.
He introduced pioneering reforms, offering impoverished children the same opportunities he had been granted. For instance, children were now sent to local schools rather than being forced into labor alongside their parents.
He also succeeded in overturning a law that seems unimaginable today. Prior to his efforts, workhouse masters had the legal right to refuse any government officials who came for unannounced inspections, leaving them unaccountable for their actions. In the late 1800s, Crooks made history as the first working-class man to be appointed to the Poplar Board of Guardians, where he worked to improve conditions and the quality of food.
Crooks also addressed the issue of inadequate clothing for workhouse inhabitants, discovering that laundry services often refused to clean garments due to infestations of bugs and vermin. He shared the story of one woman who had to scrub floors daily, with nothing but a pair of cloth sacks to protect her feet.
5. The Huddersfield Workhouse Scandal
Starting in 1846, a typhus epidemic exposed the Huddersfield Workhouse to public scrutiny. As the outbreak spread, the workhouse became overwhelmed with the sick, with multiple patients crowded into each bed. Many had to be relocated to other facilities. The outbreak persisted through 1847, and by 1848, the Leeds Mercury ventured into the workhouse to uncover the horrors they found.
The report revealed that the facility was utterly unsuitable for human living, despite being one of the more well-regarded workhouses in the region. Another investigation disclosed that typhus patients were being treated on bags of straw, infested with lice, rather than proper beds.
Each room in the workhouse accommodated as many as 40 children, with anywhere between 4 and 10 sharing a single bed. During the typhus outbreak, the conditions became unbearable, with sewage systems overflowing and children suffering from relentless itching caused by the insects.
In a shocking 1857 investigation, a special committee found similar horrific conditions. They reported that 'abandoned women,' sick with disease, were living alongside young children. There was no separation between the infected and women in labor, and some even had to endure living next to the dead. The sanitation was so poor that the same cooking pots were used to wash soiled linens and bedding.
There were no qualified nurses to care for the patients. Many of those tasked with administering medication were unable to read the labels on the medicine bottles.
The cleanup of the workhouse took far longer than anticipated. By 1870, Huddersfield was still lagging behind other workhouses in terms of providing adequate care for its residents.
4. Ella Gillespie
Children were frequently subjected to cold and indifferent treatment by workhouse staff. In 1894, 54-year-old Ella Gillespie, a former nurse and overseer at the Hackney Union's Brentwood schools, faced trial on charges of neglect and cruelty towards the children in her care.
For nearly eight years, Gillespie oversaw the welfare of around 500 children. When these children came forward to testify against her, the nation was shocked by the revelations. The punishments and mistreatment were harsh, and at times, even bizarre. A common punishment was the 'basket drill,' where children, dressed in nightclothes, were made to march around their rooms for hours with their daytime clothes balanced in baskets on their heads.
Talking to other children was met with brutal punishment, including having their heads slammed against the wall. There were also sudden, unprovoked blows with hands or even frying pans. Children were often sent to gather stinging nettles, only to be beaten with them afterward. Moreover, water was frequently withheld, forcing children to drink from outside puddles or even from toilets inside.
Other witnesses testified that Gillespie was often intoxicated, and during surprise inspections, she managed to hide her crimes by meeting inspectors outside the school and treating them to lunch beforehand.
Gillespie was found guilty of her crimes and sentenced to five years of penal servitude.
3. The Guardians’ Lunch
Although the system was far from flawless, a group of guardians was tasked with overseeing the conditions in the workhouses. However, these guardians became a prime example of the failures within the workhouse system itself.
In March 1897, a scandal rocked London when one of the City of London Union Guardians proposed ending the group's tradition of dining at the workhouses after their meetings. It soon came to light what the guardians were actually feasting on during these board meetings. Unfortunately, the motion to stop this practice was defeated.
Each meal began with bread, cheese, beer, and liquor. Following the hour-and-a-half-long meeting, they indulged in fish, beef, roast mutton, various birds, puddings, and sweets. This was followed by a series of toasts with champagne and fine wines. The men drank to everyone from the queen to the youngest member of the board, all while workhouse inmates toiled just outside the window.
Their gluttony seemed even more appalling when compared to the meager provisions offered in the workhouses. When 66-year-old Honor Shawyer died of 'mortification of the bowels' in the Droxford, Hampshire, workhouse, an investigation revealed that inmates were routinely neglected, denied proper medical care, and given meals that fell far below the already poor standards of the workhouse.
Instead of serving soup to the inmates, the kitchen served 'pork-water,' which was exactly what it sounds like. The puddings were made from the muck skimmed off the top of this concoction. The Guardians intervened, insisting that real meat be used in the soup. However, this change was short-lived. When the Guardians failed to ensure their new rule was followed, pork-water returned to the menu.
2. The Tooting Tragedy and Charles Dickens
A well-known advocate for the rights of the poor and working class, Charles Dickens was deeply disturbed by 'The Tooting Tragedy.'
In 1849, a cholera outbreak ravaged Bartholomew Drouet's farming workhouse, which housed about 1,300 boys and girls at the time. Despite receiving funds to ensure the children’s well-being, they were gaunt, malnourished, and hungry. In January of that year, cholera claimed the lives of 150 children.
Investigators discovered that Drouet had failed to properly care for both the healthy and the sick children. He ignored all recommendations from the Board of Health aimed at preventing illness and disease from worsening the children’s suffering. When the first fevers appeared, and it was advised to remove the healthy children from the facility, Drouet refused. In the end, he was found guilty of manslaughter and negligence. Dickens used this case to highlight the dreadful conditions in which the children lived.
After writing a series of articles, Dickens became a prominent figure in the Metropolitan Sanitary Association, advocating for reform in the sanitation and healthcare systems of workhouses. He also criticized those obstructing efforts for change.
By 1850, Dickens had launched his own journal, Household Words, which provided him with a platform to push for both sanitation and housing reform. He was determined to be a voice for children who had no one to speak for them.
1. Henry Morton Stanley
In 1847, John Rowlands entered the St. Asaph workhouse in Flintshire. Orphaned at a young age, he would go on to become Henry Morton Stanley, the reporter for the New York Herald who is best known for asking the famous question, 'Dr. Livingstone, I presume?'
As a child, Stanley was abandoned at a workhouse by his foster parents after his uncles refused to provide for him. He later recounted his harrowing experiences in his autobiography, vividly remembering the menacing iron gates, the constant labor, and the unfair treatment. He wrote, 'To the aged it is a house of slow death,' and 'to the young it is a house of torture.'
When Stanley was in the workhouse, it was under the harsh rule of James Francis, a schoolmaster notorious for his cruelty. Stanley soon learned just how far Francis would go when a classmate, Willie Roberts, died. Afterward, Stanley snuck into the workhouse morgue and found Roberts's body, marked with the unmistakable signs of a fatal beating.
Soon after, the headmaster threatened to punish the entire class for some marks on a new table. When it was Stanley's turn, he fought back, enduring a beating but managing to kick Francis in the face. Then, grabbing a blackthorn, Stanley struck the schoolmaster, leaving him bloody. Fearing the consequences, Stanley escaped the workhouse and fled to the freedom of the sea.
