What Will the Child Become... Parker Nichols

WHAT WILL THE CHILD BECOME?
by
Parker Nichols (1912)

The Child!
What will he become? A serious matter truly
To a father of an only one, and perhaps, but not unduly,
To one with children nine to ten, tho’ in cases such you say,
Bright future’s visions loom obscure thro’ troubles of today.
In a certain town a wise man dwelt, philosopher and sage,
Who told your future, read your past, just then Society’s rage,
Phrenology, Psychology! In those fertile fields of science –
He wandered plucking golden fruit, and incidentally his clients.
To him went a parent fond, took with him his son.
Laid down a golden fee and said, ‘What may the child become?’
The man of mystery took the coin, spun it in the air –
Bit it, put it in his vest, and motioned to a chair.
He wandered round that youngster’s head, paused on a monstrous bump
The father softly murmured - ‘The fender made that lump.’
The wise man frowned, made no reply, but started off anew,
Till a piping voice said, ‘Daddy, must I have hair drill too?’
At last the sage was satisfied and in manner most concise,
He took the parent on one side and gave him this advice:-
‘When even’s sun is setting low, an hour before the gloom,
Place a bible and a sovereign and an apple in a room.
Thither lead the child and leave him for an hour,
To see which potent agent has proved of greater power.
For if he eat the apple it is a certain sign,
That comforts close at hand form his especial line.
‘Midst nature’s fruits he should be placed, coal, iron, corn or such.
As miller, miner, farmer, smith he may accomplish much.
Should he read the bible, a scholar he should be.
Writer, teacher. poet, preacher, or Professor like me!’
But should he grasp the sovereign – beware, my friend, for then –
He holds for weal or woe the power to rule his fellowmen.
Financier or banker, buyer, seller he may be,
Or money-lender, with interest running to Eternity.
For each can be of evil use – the sovereign most of all.’
The Bible can be misapplied, and the apple caused our fall.
Homeward went the parent – in the room he placed the youth
With a sovereign and an apple and the Book that stands for Truth.
And in an hour that simple child, when father took a look –
Had eaten the apple, pocketed the gold and was seated on the book.
And as the parent stood amazed, out spoke this precious kid. –
‘I’d like another apple pa, also another quid!’
The child – What did he become? How fared this noble youth?
Who was filled with greed and avarice and who sat upon the truth.
The world alas! Holds out rewards for such you must allow,
What did the child become?
Well – he’s a poor- law guardian – now!

Emmeline Pankhurst described her experiences as a Poor Law Guardian in her autobiography 'My Own Story.'

The leaders of the Liberal Party advised women to prove their fitness for the Parliamentary franchise by serving in municipal offices, especially the unsalaried offices. A large number of women had availed themselves of this advice, and were serving on Boards of Guardians, on school boards, and in other capacities. My children now being old enough for me to leave them with competent nurses, I was free to join these ranks. A year after my return to Manchester in 1894 I became a candidate for the Board of Poor Law Guardians. I was elected, heading the poll by a very large majority.

When I came into office I found that the law was being very harshly administered. The old board had been made up of the kind of men who are known as rate savers. They were guardians, not of the poor but of the rates… For instance, the inmates were being very poorly fed.

I found the old folks in the workhouse sitting on backless forms, or benches. They had no privacy, no possessions, not even a locker. After I took office I gave the old people comfortable Windsor chairs to sit in, and in a number of ways we managed to make their existence more endurable.

The first time I went into the place I was horrified to see little girls seven and eight years on their knees scrubbing the cold stones of the long corridors. These little girls were clad, summer and winter, in thin cotton frocks, low in the neck and short sleeved. At night they wore nothing at all, night dresses being considered too good for paupers. The fact that bronchitis was epidemic among them most of the time had not suggested to the guardians any change in the fashion of their clothes.

I also found pregnant women in the workhouse, scrubbing floors, doing the hardest kind of work, almost until their babies came into the world. Many of them were unmarried women, very, very young, mere girls. These poor mothers were allowed to stay in the hospital after confinement for a short two weeks. Then they had to make a choice of staying in the workhouse and earning their living by scrubbing and other work, in which case they were separated from their babies. They could stay and be paupers, or they could leave - leave with a two-week-old baby in their arms, without hope, without home, without money, without anywhere to go. What became of those girls, and what became of their hapless infants?