Oh, my dear fellow, if you want to be a gentleman you must give up being an artist. They've got nothing to do with one another. You hear of men painting pot-boilers to keep an aged mother - well, it shows they're excellent sons, but it's no excuse for bad work. They're only tradesmen. An artist would let his mother go to the workhouse.
My father read Dickens out loud. My mother would say 'We're going to the workhouse'. This to me was real. I was headed for the gruel.
The trains were never forgotten, but the extent of their influence only came to light with the arrival of the internet and the subsequent flowering of genealogical research. This obsession with roots will be felt especially keenly by foundlings, who often have no way of exploring their family histories. I notice that genealogical sites now have warnings on them saying people should be ready for little surprises, ... They're not all going to find themselves descended from King Henry VIII or Richard Cur de Lion or Wellington. This is rather strange because it was pretty taken for granted a few generations ago that families had all kinds of little moments where things had gone not according to the book. It was just one of those things. You tried to accommodate it. There was no social welfare. You just had to sort it out within villages, the families, the parish. Children went to the workhouse, but people knew about it. Nowadays, there's a kind of surprise that these cases were so commonplace.
It bore absolutely no resemblance to the 'rude cabin' described by racial detractors, ... and was surrounded by a bake house, a milk house, a smokehouse, a chicken house with '44 big hens,' a workhouse, a cow house, and a barn that housed '30 big horned beasts.'
Lawyers enjoy a little mystery, you know. Why, if everybody came forward and told the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth straight out, we should all retire to the workhouse.
Home is the girl's prison and the woman's workhouse.
It is not from the tall crowded workhouse of prosperity that men first or clearest see the eternal stars of heaven.
A Garden, an Elaboratory, a Workhouse, Improvements and Breeding, are pleasant and Profitable Diversions to the Idle and Ingenious For here they miss Ill Company, and converse with Nature and Art whose Variety are equally grateful and instructing and preserve a good Constitution of Body and Mind.
Four specters haunt the Poor -- Old Age, Accident, Sickness and Unemployment. We are going to exorcise them. We are going to drive hunger from the hearth. We mean to banish the workhouse from the horizon of every workman in the land.