Reflecting on the 1840s with the benefit of fifty years of hindsight, Ware instructed the reader of his memoirs, âIt must be remembered that at this time the destitute poor were very much neglectedâ.1 This concise statement encapsulates the drastic changes that had occurred in the intervening years. Attitudes towards the poor and beliefs about poverty, ideas about children and childhood, and views regarding the duties of society and the value of philanthropy had all altered over the century. If it were necessary to reflect on these changes in the 1890s, it is still more necessary today. This chapter begins with an overview of the societal context of the mid-nineteenth century. The impact of industrialisation, increased migration, and overcrowding upon urban centres is touched on, followed by an assessment of the destitute poorâs depiction during this period. Changing educational ideas about children and their development are then discussed, looking particularly at the increasing influence of environmentalist thought.
Following this, the chapter moves to examine the educational system in the early and mid-nineteenth century, focusing especially on the education available for poor children. The emergence and growth of ragged schools across England and Scotland is then traced, and particular attention is given to the coherence and shared discourse of the schools. The final two sections of this chapter examine the teachers involved in the schools. At this point the âsilent testimonyâ (to borrow Clarkâs phrase) of working-class and female teachers is the prime focus of the investigation, as their significant contribution to the schools is analysed using both ragged school literature and local school documents.2
âThe solemn and stern realitiesâ: setting the scene
Eric J. Evans writes that the rapid economic growth at the end of the eighteenth century was âthe most profound and thoroughgoing change yet experienced by mankind in societyâ.3 Similarly, Burnett observes the marked social change during this period, writing that in 1801 âaround 80 per cent of the population of England and Wales was still âruralââ. By the 1851 census, Burnett writes, âthe decisive tilt had taken placeâ, and the majority of Englandâs population now resided in urban areas.4 Industrial towns experienced particularly steep and transformative growth; between 1821 and 1831, the population of Bradford, a centre of textile mills, increased by 78 per cent. Few cities were sufficiently prepared to accommodate such an influx of migrants, and consequently âovercrowding and a deterioration in housing standards were almost inevitableâ.5
In 1832 James Phillips Kay, later Kay-Shuttleworth, observed the harm squalid dwellings inflicted on inhabitants, noting that âSporadic cases of typhus chiefly appear in those [streets] which are narrow, ill ventilated, unpaved, or which contain heaps of refuse, or stagnant poolsâ.6 The very poorest resided in cellars where they were available; only those in direst need resorted to such cramped and damp dwellings. After citing the extensive habitation of cellars in Liverpool, London, and Manchester, Burnett notes that âlarge proportions of the population regularly lived in semi-subterranean âhomesââ, which at best were unsatisfactory from a sanitary point of view and, at worst, were disgusting and offensive insults to humanityâ.7
During the same period, discussions regarding the poor laws intensified as existing legislation was accused of aggravating âthe very problems it was designed to alleviateâ.8 Those seeking reform pointed to the abuse of the Speenhamland system by âthe sluggish slothful man impelled to work only by the direst necessityâ.9 Gertrude Himmelfarb concisely summarises that the core complaint ârepeated in countless pamphlets, tracts, sermons, articles, speeches, and reports, was that the poor laws were âpauperizing the poorââ.10 Although historians have questioned the methods employed by the commissioners who compiled the 1834 Poor Law Report, its significance both in drawing attention to the poorâs condition and in questioning how poverty should be responded to cannot be denied.11
According to Evans, by âthe mid-1840s it was not open to anti-reformers to deny that the most important factors affecting longevity were an individualâs social class and place of residenceâ.12 The close neighbouring of poverty and wealth in London particularly fostered an uncomfortable atmosphere. In Himmelfarbâs estimation, the existence of poverty was not only disturbing because of the suffering it entailed but because it was regarded as regressive.13 The perceived status of the metropolis as âthe first city in the worldâ made the continuing existence of âmisery, ignorance and vice, amidst all the immense wealth and great knowledgeâ a ânational disgraceâ.14
Both in appearance and in experience, the extreme poor were perceived as wholly other. In the 1842 Report by the Poor Law Commissioners, one âwitnessâ drew on imagery from Jonathan Swiftâs Gulliverâs Travels to describe Spitalfields weavers, stating that they were âdecayed in their bodies; the whole race of them is rapidly descending to the size of Liliputiansâ.15 Like the residents of Liliput, they were part of a different colony, a tribe distinguished by its difference from âthe normâ. Henry Mayhew, the Morning Chronicleâs âSpecial Correspondentâ, dubbed the âdiscoverer of the âpoorââ by Himmelfarb, used such othering language extensively in his reports.16 He framed his accounts with terminology that stressed the curiosity and distinctiveness of those he spoke with. Mayhewâs investigation into âStreet-folkâ includes among its sub-headings âOf wandering tribes in generalâ and âWandering tribes in this countryâ, exemplifying his argument that those mentioned were âpart of the nomads of England, neither knowing nor caring for the enjoyments of homeâ.17
The image of a barbarous tribe dwelling in the midst of civilised Britain proved a powerful one. Himmelfarb writes that the ââstrangeâ country unearthed by Mayhewâ acted as a âblank check on credibility, an invitation to the suspension of disbelief. Since it was an unknown country that was being explored for the first time, anything might be true, nothing was inconceivableâ.18 Mayhew himself contrasted his findings with those of missionaries overseas, writing in the introduction to the 1861 edition of his collected reports, âIt is curious, moreover, as supplying information concerning a large body of persons, of whom the public had less knowledge than of the most distant tribes of the earthâ.19
The early and mid-nineteenth century was a period of expansion and excitement for (to use Catherine Hallâs phrase) âthe missionary publicâ.20 Brown describes how the nation was âthrilled to the heroic exploits of missionaries, who traversed the globe and preached to heathen peoples in exotic settingsâ. Britain was deemed an âelect nationâ, divinely chosen to spread the Christian message.21 The âflurry of excitementâ surrounding overseas missions overflowed into the domestic arena, with the early and mid-nineteenth century witnessing a marked increase in philanthropic activity at home.22 Twells writes that during the 1820s, âmissionary philanthropy infused English cultureâ, involving âwomen and children as well as men, it was public and familial, domestic and global, simultaneously involving intimate and very distant concernsâ.23 According to Twells, whether âlocated in Britain, Tahiti or the rural areas surrounding Calcutta, early missions adopted a very similar structure, combining methods of Christian education with a programme for âcivilisationâ, or cultural reformâ.24 Overseas missions and domestic philanthropy were two sides of the same evangelical coin.
The nineteenth century was, according to Bebbington, âthe Evangelical centuryâ.25 Missions, whether to city slums or to South India, were driven by a fervent desire to save souls and alleviate bodily suffering. The title of Heasmanâs book, Evangelicals in Action, encapsulates her argument that Victorian evangelicals âare remembered for what they did rather than for their theologyâ.26 The critical contribution that evangelicals, both from within the Established Church and dissenting denominations, made to domestic philanthropy is noted by Heasman, who estimates that âthree-quarters of the total number of voluntary charitable organisations in the second half of the nineteenth century can be regarded as Evangelical in character and controlâ.27
Although hailing from diverse church backgrounds, evangelicals were united by shared principles. Bebbington identifies four core tenets of evangelicalism: activism, biblicism, conversionism, and crucicentrism.28 They were, in Chadwickâs words, âmen of the Reformation, who preached the cross, the depravity of man, and justification by faith aloneâ.29 Dancing, playing cards, and visiting theatres were disapproved of, while the sanctity of Sunday and the value of regular Bible study were asserted.30 Evangelicals were likewise united by an entrenched suspicion of Catholicism; as Chadwick observes, âRome the...