Politics & government

        POOR LAW STARVATION BILL.

A Dialogue between a Poor Law Commissioner and the Paupers.

You may talk about hearts that can feel for another,
And that, as sons of old Adam, we must all be brothers ;
Thai might be the fashion a long while ago,
But we know for certain 'tis far from it now.
Just look at a pampered-up Poor Law Commissioner,
As he knits his dark brows on some humble petitioner ;
Some poor wretched Pamper begging hard for relief,
Which this pampered-up pensioner treats worse than a thief.

Commissioner.—Who are you fellow ?

Pauper.—I'm a poor man, your honour, with a large
family ; and having at present no employment, humbly crave
a little assistance to keep my family from starving, till I can
get work.

Com.—You work, you lazy rascal! you never intend to
work. I can read roguery in your face, as plain as though I
looked into a looking glass—however, bring your baggage
of a wife and her brats, and we'll put you into a dungeon
where the light of day shall scarcely shine upon you; you
in one cell, and your wife in another, and all your ugly
brats in different places.

Pauper.—But, your honour, I hope you won't be so cruel
as to part us, as sorrow is our portion let us share it together.

Com.—Oh! nonsense! don't you know that the Poor,
Law Bill orders you to be separated, because your allow-
ance of food will be wretchedly small, that they are afraid
you should eat each other.

Pauper.—Pray, your honour, if I may be so bold as to
ask, do you read your Bible ?

Com.--Yes, you scoundrel, what made you ask ?

Pauper.—Because I think it says there " Do unto others
as you would be done unto." Now, how would your
honour like to be torn from your wife and family, and be
confined and half starved in separate dungeons, for no other
crime than being poor ?                           

Com.—Well, what crime is equal to being poor ?

Pauper.—Why, I should think, (if I may be allowed to
speak,) being a thief is worse.

Com.—Oh, no such thing, give me a thief before a pauper
at any time; we can transport a thief for life, and he is got
rid of at once, but a pauper is an eye-sore which we can
never get rid of, except by slow degrees, viz., by starving
him to death in our bastiles or workhouses. But what old
woman is that there ? What do you want, you old hag ?
Old woman.—Please your worship, I humbly crave leave,
if it please your reverence—(stop, you old bedlamite, I'm
no parson, though as big an enemy to the poor as any par-
son can be; but what do you want with me ?)- -Only to beg
leave, your honour, on behalf of myself and other poor old
women in the workhouse where I belong, that we may be
allowed the use of our own tea-kettles to boil a little water
when we can raise a halfpenny-worth of tea.

Com.—Tea ! confound you impudence, you extravagant
old wretches, what do you mean to ruin us ? poor ragged
vermin like you talk about tea; ditch water, you old drabble
tails, is too good for you; and the orders of the Commis-
sioners are to send a smith with his hammer into every cell
in the bastiles, to smash in pieces every tea-kettle and tea-
pot, and all such abominable luxuries; and if he happens
to make a mistake, and smash the heads of the old women
instead of their kettles, why a jury of workhouse governors
will bring it in " Died by visitation of the blacksmith." But
what women are those crossing yonder field; they look too
cheerful and happy to be paupers ?

Constable.—They are labourers' wives your honour,
although not paupers, they are poor people going a gleaning.

Com.—Call them back directly ; according to the Poor
Law Bill no one is allowed to glean but paupers, and you,
and every constable, policeman, blue-devils, or whatever you
like to call them, are her by ordered to apprehend any per-
son going to glean corn, unless he or she are paupers; and
as every field is cut, notice is to be given" to the governor of"
the next workhouse, who is to unlock his prison cell, and
send out his captives like famished wolves to glean from sun-
rise to sunset. The corn thus collected to be carried to the
workhouse, and ground into flour by the treadmill, one of
which is to be erected in every workhouse in the kingdom,
on purpose to keep the paupers in exercise, and their legs
from swelling through laziness. But what chuckle-headed
fellow is that that stands gaping there! Come forward,
Beetlehead, who are you ? Please your majesty, I'm Dick
Clod, farmer Stubbs' ploughman—Well, and what do you
want here ? why I've com'd afore your majesty to say as
how measter won't want me no longer, because as how
they've found out a way to plough by steam, and that a
kettle of boiling water will drive a plough over a ten acre
piece before your majesty can say | Jack Robinson."

Com.—Well then you must try and get work at some-
thing else, or else come into the workhouse for the rest of
your days, and live upon sky-blue and skilly-go-lee.

Constable---Your honour here's two old people wish to
speak a word with your worship, if you please ?—Bring the
old fools in.

Old Woman.—Please your highness, this poor old cripple
who is nearly ninety years of age, is my husband; we have
lived together above fifty years, and contrived to bring up a
large family by our own industry ; but being now both of us
past labour, we are forced to go into the workhouse, and
my husband, poor soul, is as helpless as a child : 1 begged
that the governor would let me be with him, which, he says,
is against the Poor Law Regulations ; but I hope your
grace will have pity upon us, and let us end the few days
we have to live together.

Com.—Why, you impudent old strumpet, how dare vou
request such a thing 1 is not fifty years long enough for a
couple of old fools live.together? but let's hear what the
old man says.

Woman.—Your lordship, 'tis of no use to speak to him,
for he's as deaf as a post, poor soul.

Com.—Oh, deaf, is he ? well, that I don't wonder at; I'll
be bound it was your confounded clapper that made him
so; take the miserable wretches away, constable, for the
sight of so much poverty makes me sick; and I will lay my
life I shall not be able to do justice to a haunch of venison,
and a couple of turkies that I have ordered for dinner!

                George Walker, Jun., Printer, Durham.
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