Museum Context of the Mousetrap

In the 1789 edition of the inventory, there appears to be a single mousetrap located in one of the Butteries of the workhouse. A mousetrap in a location of food or drink preparation calls into question the sanitation, cleanliness, and even safety of workhouses.

In a museum, an eighteenth-century mousetrap could evoke numerous responses from visitors. In a recreation of a location of food preparation such as a kitchen, pantry, or buttery, a mousetrap set up as if it were trying to catch a live rodent would instantly put people at unease. In today’s day and age, vermin near food is disgusting and extraordinarily unsanitary so this would make today’s public think about the questionable cleanliness of workhouses in the eighteenth and nineteenth century.

On a different note, mousetraps today are very recognizable objects, but as I discussed in my object biography, the mousetraps used back then may have looked extremely different; there were many possible designs, most of which not very similar to modern traps. The comparison of current mousetraps and a mousetrap of the 1800s would almost certainly lead to thoughts about technological development in mundane objects, which is often not thought about.

Cradles

The simple, wooden cradles listed in the inventories of 18th century Workhouses tell us of the dire conditions that pregnant women living in poverty outside of the houses would have had to endure.

When introducing the cradles of 18th century and their significance in Workhouses in a museum context, it would be helpful to first show physical examples. Some of lesser quality which would more likely have been in the Workhouses, with infant dolls in them showing the visitor that children were born there. In addition, to display the idea that the pregnant women did not become so in the Workhouse, but rather came to the Workhouse afterward but before having their children, a video of pregnant women walking up to the doors of the Workhouses could be shown in the display.

To lead the visitor to consider the circumstances that poor, pregnant women would have had to endure at the time, other cradles of more elaborate and ornate construction could be shown. This could be in some digital context in which the locations of such cradles – more affluent places – could also be observed, contrasting these to the simpler ones found in the Workhouse. Why, then, would women choose to have their babies in places in which the furnishings were so relatively poor? Conditions outside must have been even worse.

Blue Furniture

 

During the October 24, 1806 inventory in the workhouse of Staplehurst Kent, some “Blue Furniture” would have created a splash of color in the “Nursery Chamber.” In this case, furniture refers to fabric or linens, most likely those used as a bed curtain.

One way to display this fabric in a museum would be on a bed frame. Let alone, the furniture would remain shapeless and not evoke the shelter it might have given to inmates experiencing childbirth or illness in the workhouse. Visitors could even climb into a model bed to experience the curtains surrounding them.

However, hanging this fabric on a physical bed in a museum exhibit fixes its meaning. As Bayne, Ross, and Williamson note, “Where the material object is stable in time and space, the digital object is both mobile and volatile” (112). Using a digital tool might enable visitors to manipulate the fabric themselves, and explore how it might function as covers, as window curtains, or even as repurposed cloth for rags. Even the scenario I describe limits interpretations, but it might begin to transfer the opportunity to interpret into the audience’s hands.

Sources:

Bayne, Siân, Jen Ross, and Zoe Williamson. “Objects, subjects, bits and bytes: learning from the digital collections of National Museums.” Museum and Society 7, no. 2 (July 2009): 110-124. ISSN 1479-8360.

“An Inventory of All and Singular the Good and Chattels of the Work-house of the Parish of Staplehurst Kent as taken the 24th of October 1806 by order of the Overseers Messrs Ts. Simmons & Ts Bromley at the Death of the late Master Daniel Axell.” Kent Library P.347/18/1.

Earthenware Teapots

The above image features the typical teapot or kettle found in British workhouses in the latter half of the eighteenth century. Although the one depicted is ‘bronze-glazed’ earthenware (pottery made from hardened clay), there are accounts of copper-glazed and ‘Old Fashioned’ earthenware teapots. In addition, it is likely that tin-glazed teapots were commonly found.These teapots were placed all through the workhouse in common spaces, more private bedded wards, and even authority chambers.

In the museum context, it would be most intuitive for visitors to first engage with the teapot as part of a larger–perhaps interactive–display of tableware in kitchen and pantry settings. The display would ideally convey some background information on the commodification of tin-glazed and earthenware items, as well as provide an interactive experience on the cooking of food in the workhouse. Maybe a digitization/projection of a cook at work would be appropriate here; the hologram cook could beckon visitors to take a look at the bowls on display, in which images of onion gruel/other foods could be projected on cue, and then it could encourage visitors to pour out tea or water from the kettle.

To emphasize the ubiquity of the teapot outside the context of meal preparation, multiple replicas could also be placed throughout the museum in different areas. They could be contextualized with plaques varying on this theme: Thirsty? You might be able to find a water fountain right around the corner, but with three strictly regimented meals a day, a pauper might have found oneself craving water outside of mealtime. They could have drank from these common kettles.

Tin-glazed white porringers

The above picture is from the object biography resources folder. In the picture, the second left item, a pair of tin-glazed white earthenware is found to be similar to the described tin-glazed white porringers cataloged in 1789.

In the museum context, to interpret this item using physical tools, we can display this item with some other plain erathenware, plain wash bowls, and the wooden plates used by the paupers to make comparisons. Among the different tableware, we can conclude the common features of tableware used for masters and those for the paupers. Also, we can observe that certain kinds of tableware are more likely to be decorated. Often, if an item is frequently used, it will not be fancily decorated and will be designed to be duable. The same rules apply to the tableware in the workhouse.

To interpret this item using digital tools, we can link much more background knowledge of general tin-glazing technology to the item, and create scenes where the people are simoutaneously eating in different situations with different kinds of glazed tableware. By this tool, we can gain a specturm of scenes that can help us better conclude the significance of the given tin-glazed porringer.

The Master’s Chair

A chair like the one cataloged at Assington

Cataloged in 1808, the master’s rush-bottomed armchair from the Assington Poorhouse would have been made of wood and either bulrush or cattail and would have likely been where the Master sat while he conducted official workhouse business.

One way to display the chair could be putting it in a lineup of other rush-bottomed chairs from the workhouse to show how similar the master’s chair was to that of the paupers. It could also be interesting to provide some more comfortable or opulent looking chairs and having visitors guess which one they think the masters was. These modes of display could support the idea of the commonness of the chair and help visitors realize that workhouse masters weren’t surrounded by the kingly luxury they are sometimes credited with.

One way to supplement this with digital tools could be providing an interface that would allow the visitors to go through a normal workday of the master while sitting in a replica of the chair. They could meet with paupers through video or look through shipping manifests on a screen in front of them, creating a physical experience that could emulate the life of the master, contributing to a better understanding about the reality of the situation the masters lived in.

Iron Stove

An iron stove was noted in an inventory of the Carleton Rode House of Industry in 1787. The stove was located in the paupers’ bed chamber and was fixed to the wall. Though a stove is not an intimate, personal object, its function of keeping people warm would have been important at night and in the winter. This object allows us to infer that the chambers of a pauper might have been a relatively comfortable place for them, and possibly even a sanctuary within the workhouse.

An attempt to physically convey the importance of a stove in a museum could engage the senses of a visitor to a museum, and by doing so, help create an authentic representation of the past. Something as simple as placing an iron stove with an electric heater in it in a corner of chilly room allow visitors to experience the comfort this object could have provided, and how important it could be. As visitors gravitate toward its warmth, they would be able to imagine paupers in a workhouse doing the same on a cold winter day. A digital projection of a group of paupers around a similar stove or a fireplace would help them relate this experience to one that an actual inmate may have had.

A small Bible: the symbol of discipline and order in the workhouse?

A Bible from the 1800s

The small leather bound Bible embellished with gold engravings was found in the hallway of St. Sepulchre workhouse in 1751, reminding paupers of the strict law and order of the workhouse. Institutions, including the workhouse, used Christianity to justify harsh disciplining and used these horrible conditions to deter as many paupers as they can. From the physical object, the Bible may conjure these feelings and representations of the workhouse along with the paupers that resided there. However, using digital tools such as interactive games where the public can decide the fate of a pauper, or a dramatization and “inside look” into a pauper’s “hidden transcript”, the public audience is able to “re-claim, re-contextualize, and re-form knowledge into personally meaningful, and very public, configurations”.(1) Through virtual tools, the audience can experience and see that many paupers actually rebelled against these rules while others found a better religious life within the walls of the workhouse. As a result, the museum returns agency to the paupers and debunks the commonly held belief that the workhouse was a complete total institution.

1 – Sian Bayne, Jen Ross, and Zoe Williamson “Objects, subjects, bits and bytes: learning from the digital collections of the National Museums,” museum and society 7 (2009): 111

Wooden Bedstead

Beds were everywhere in the 18th and 19th century workhouses, and everyone spent time sleeping in and tending to their bed. Given their ubiquity, a bedstead would be a crucial piece of a museum exhibit seeking to expose this portion of workhouse life.

One possible means of incorporating digital tools into a bed showcase might be through the use of VR. A replica bed could be placed in an open space, and users could approach the real bed while immersed in a virtually reproduced setting. As the user approaches and examines the bed, the room in which it is located could change, to demonstrate the wide range of rooms in the workhouse that had a bed. One could even imagine creating a game that requires you to clean a dirty bedstead to advance through the sequence of rooms. A simpler display could employ projectors to change the setting for the bed.

Regardless of the means, the bed’s exhibit would serve as a recognizable touchstone to transport visitors into the workhouse setting. We all recognize beds as items central to our lives, and that makes them a good point to compare and contrast our experience with that of a workhouse inmate.

 

Factory Acts(1802-1833)

Poverty, inequality, and negative externalities proliferated in the industrial economy. Child labor, in terms of child participation rates and starting work at very young ages also increased during the classic era of industrialization. The Industrial Revolution expedited the establishments of numerous factories, yet no substantial laws relating to the running of factories and working conditions for labors were issued until the first decades of the 19th century. As a result, factory workers, including child labor, were often exposed to dangers generated by heavy usage of industrial machines and long hours of working.

Against this background, a series of labor Acts were passed by the UK Parliament to regulate the conditions of industrial employment. The early Acts concentrated on regulating the hours of work and moral welfare of young children employed in cotton mills but were effectively unenforced until the Act of 1833 established a professional Factory Inspectorate.

The first pertinent Act was the “Health and Morals of Apprentices Act 1802”, which addressed the concerns about the health and welfare of children employed in cotton mills and set regulations on the construction of factories to ensure the decent working conditions. Then came the “Cotton Mills & Factory Act 1819”, which required that no children under 9 were to be employed and children aged 9-16 years were limited to 12 hours work per day. The legislation of the widely known “Labour of Children in Factories Act (Althorp’s Act)” was introduced in 1833. The Act required the following:

  • No child workers under nine years
  • Reduced hours for children 9-13 years
  • Two hours schooling each day for children
  • Four factory inspectors appointed

Sources:

– The National Archives, “1833 Factory Act”, A The National  Archives, http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/resources/1833-factory-act/

– Wikipedia, “Factory Acts”, Wikipedia, last edited on 8 January 2018, at 16:29

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Factory_Acts#Health_and_Morals_of_Apprentices_Act_1802

– Jane Humphries, “Childhood and child labor in the British industrial revolution”, Economic History Review, 66, 2(2013), pp. 395-418.