Letters from a workhouse isolation hospital, 1929 Jon Bauckham
Samantha Ball, research assistant at The Workhouse, Southwell, tells about letters that cast light on hospital treatment pre-NHS
Don’t think she is fretting. She isn’t, she is as good as gold. She shall have my very best attention
W hen we discover an ancestor who ended up in the workhouse, we tend to see them as victims of a deeply flawed system that has thankfully been consigned to the dustbin of history.
However, the nation’s workhouses remained in use for far longer than most people realise, and by the 20th century were not quite the dreaded Dickensian institutions that we often associate with the name. Instead, workhouses evolved and expanded to provide a range of healthcare services, with destitution not necessarily being a pre-requisite for treatment.
A fine example can be found in Southwell, Nottinghamshire, where the local workhouse – now owned by the National Trust – also boasted a large infirmary, hospital and isolation hospital that served the needs of the local community.
Samantha Ball reveals how Galley Hill isolation hospital, which formed part of the workhouse’s infrastructure, offered vital care for a young girl who was struck down by a serious illness.
Which documents have you chosen?
I have selected a series of letters donated by a Southwell family whose mother, Mavis, was sent to Galley Hill isolation hospital in 1929 when she was a girl suffering from diphtheria.
Featuring correspondence between Mavis’s parents and Florence Ethel Maxon, a charge nurse, the documents tell an intensely moving story about a child fighting a disease for which no vaccination had yet been developed, and the plight of a distressed mother and father who were separated from their sick daughter.
I have also chosen a doll that was given to Mavis while she was at the hospital, complete with lavender to preserve it in its wrapping.
What do the letters tell us about the lives of our ancestors?
Built in 1824 and designed by the Reverend John Thomas Becher to accommodate 158 paupers, the workhouse at Southwell was a prototype used for the national workhouse system under the New Poor Law.
For 160 years a variety of different welfare services were provided at Southwell, reflecting changes in legislation and local healthcare. The site became known as Greet House in the 20th century and by then included a separate infirmary, hospital and isolation hospital (Galley Hill) to treat infectious diseases such as scarlet fever and diphtheria.
While there are plenty of resources that describe the mechanics of the Poor Law, the letters offer a human perspective on workhouse life that’s usually absent from official records. Throughout her correspondence, Nurse Maxon’s words are warm and informal, and would have provided much-needed comfort to Mavis’s concerned parents: “Don’t think she is fretting. She isn’t, she is as good as gold. She shall have my very best attention, I can’t say more, can I?”
Workhouse personnel have been harshly depicted throughout history, but the letters present a welcome contrast. They show that Nurse Maxon clearly took a shine to Mavis, who she also describes as a “dear little girlie” and “a little treasure, so intelligent and bright”. In her final letter, Nurse Maxon even provides advice on how to care for Mavis at home and offers thanks for a gift given to her by the grateful parents, adding “kisses and love to the wee mite”.
We do not know if Nurse Maxon afforded such kindness to every patient, or how other children felt as they battled diseases that have now been eradicated. However, the letters provide a fascinating insight into one family’s experience.
Why did you choose these artefacts?
As a researcher and oral historian, the letters and the doll are special
to me as they were donated to the National Trust following an appeal for information regarding the Galley Hill isolation hospital. After sending letters to the local community, we were so pleased when a Southwell family came forward with their story. When searching for local history information, sometimes the best gems can be found right on your doorstep!
The items also strike a chord because they allow us to teach visitors about the wider history of the workhouse and the role that local medical and welfare provision played in this. Whereas the harsh regime of the Victorian workhouse depicted in fiction is familiar to many people, few realise that the workhouse system continued to develop and change until its eventual demise in 1948. Documents such as these demonstrate the importance of sites such as Greet House and the role that isolation hospitals played until the battle against infectious diseases had been won. Finally, as a mother myself, to read that your child is “out of danger”, must be the most welcome news any parent can receive. I also like Nurse Maxon’s informality: “I trust you are all keeping well. Isn’t it nasty weather?”
Tell us more about your collections…
Operated by the National Trust, The Workhouse at Southwell remains the best-preserved workhouse in the country. Visitors can follow in the footsteps of paupers and experience what day-to-day life was like in the building, which housed the most poor and vulnerable in society.
Our collections contain nearly a thousand objects spanning the Georgian era to the 1970s, including personal belongings of the Reverend Becher, founder of the institution, alongside inmate uniforms, surviving registers from the Southwell Union, medical instruments from the infirmary and everyday objects simply left behind or lost by former inhabitants.
We continually seek to build our collections and are always thrilled when people come forward and add to our story by sharing their family history, or by recording their memories for our sound archive. The letters and doll that I have described above were donated to The Workhouse by Mrs Leivers and Mrs Watts, to whom we are incredibly grateful.