Rose Tremain - Restoration

I thought for a moment about this. I was briefly tempted to make some flippant rejoinder to the effect that there were many at Court who would infinitely prefer to be thought Idle (which indeed they were) than to be thought Impotent (which some of them were but went through elaborate performances to conceal). But I truly wished to take my new responsibilities seriously, so I replied at last that I would first cast my eye over the person's person, to ascertain in what condition his body stood, whether mutilated, diseased or wounded, and that I would enquire of him what circumstances of personal misfortune had reduced him to begging by the road.

But Sir Nicholas Hogg shook his head.

"No, no," he said. "An unreliable method. No, no, no. There is but one question to ask him. You must enquire whether or not he has a Licence to Beg. And when he shows you his Licence, you must make sure that it is a True Licence and not a Counterfeit."

"Ah," I said, "and if he has no Licence at all?"

"Then, you have your answer. He is not Impotent, he is Idle. It is really a most simple matter!"

"And how are the Licences obtained, Sir Nicholas?"

"Application is made to us, the Justices. And each individual case is put before us at the Quarter Sessions."

"And what of the man who falls upon hard times, is hurt, say, in a brawl or falls from a tree while picking plums and his spine is crushed, and he can no longer work, and yet finds on the almanac that the next Quarter Session is many weeks off. How is he to live in the meantime, except by begging?"

"This is a hypothetical case, Sir Robert, and I know of no such precedent. At all events, he must not beg. He must find other means."

"Yet I do not know what those means might be."

"Very well. One such means is that he could come to you."

"And what must I do?"

"It is the occasional duty of the Overseer to dispense small sums, on a sixpenny or ninepenny scale, in charity, or, if preferred, dispense gifts in kind, such as a thin hen or a pigsfoot, as and where they think fit. It is for this reason only men of substance are elected to the position of Overseer, so that their own livelihood is not one whit inconvenienced."

Sir Nicholas began lighting up a very foul pipe at this juncture, thus giving me a little time to formulate other questions concerning the condition of the workhouse at Norwich, and the type of work done there, this place being the principal refuge for what Hogg dubbed the Able Poor of the county. I was told that it was a very excellent type of workhouse and that the men, women and children housed there were most merry, seated at their spinning wheels and looms "and thus receiving charity not only for their arms and fingers, which are at work, but also for their undeserving legs, which are idle."

Hogg wiped some black morsels of tobacco from his fleshy lip before he added: "Unfortunately the sick-house there has, mistakenly in my opinion, been converted to an ale house, but I am informed the few sick are cared for in an adequate shed."

I enquired whether, as an Overseer in a small parish, it would be necessary for me to visit the workhouse at Norwich, but Sir Nicholas replied that my authority extended only as far as the boundary of Hautbois-le-Fallows cum Bidnold with the neighbouring parishes of Coote-by-Leyland and Rumworth St James, an authority I shared, he told me lastly, with none other than Lord Bathurst, described as "an excellent Overseer, most generous with rabbits". The notion that Bathurst could be relied upon to tell whether a poor man was Impotent or Idle I found somewhat disconcerting and was about to make some observations on the muddled state of Bathurst's mind since his accident in the field, when Sir Nicholas walked to my study window, looked out at the snow falling very thickly now and declared that he must depart at once or risk to find the highway obliterated and all routes to what he called his "Seat at Hautbois" impassible.

I confess I was relieved to bid adieu to him and his odious pipe, yet after he had gone found myself to be in a state of some perturbation with regard to my new responsibility, having no clear picture of what I was supposed to do as an Overseer of the Poor. Was it to be expected that I should ride about the villages on Danseuse trawling for the Idle and sending them packing to the looms, succouring the Impotent with sixpences and chicken legs? I was not in the habit of going very frequently to Bidnold village, except to visit Meg at the Rushcutters and thus could not assess what quantity of destitute people might now be turning to me for succour. Had the snow not been falling, I would have mounted my horse there and then and carried out a quick reconnaissance, but, like Justice Hogg, I did not wish to be lost in the white wastes and so decided instead to note down all that I knew about the Poor which, alas, did not seem a great deal. I took up a quill and wrote as follows:

1. They are numerous.

2. They appear more numerous in the capital, where they throng the wharves and lie down to sleep on the steps of alehouses.

3. They are much prone to sickness, as witnessed by me during my brief time at St Thomas 's hospital.

4. Madness appears present in the eyes of many of them and I suspect that Pearce's Bedlam is choking with them.

5. They are regarded by the likes of the Winchelseas as a race apart, a quite other species of man. It is, however, from the bodies of Paupers that anatomists draw their knowledge and it is nowhere suggested that the liver, say, of a Peer will be any different in its shape, function, composition or texture than that of a Hovel-dweller (unless the organ of the Peer be enlarged by the quantity of claret that has passed through it).

6. Jesus was most fond of them.

7. There is an interesting dichotomy between His belief in their nobility and the Nobility's belief in their inherent wickedness. (And this in a supposedly pious country.)

8. I have not, in all my thirty-seven years, given a great deal of thought to them – until this day, the thirteenth of January 1665.

9. How does the King regard them? In his credo that all should be content with their lot and not get above themselves, what does he say of the Pauper?

10. I have heard that in Bidnold there is a tongueless man, sound of limb but speechless, who begs alms from all who pass him. Is this man Impotent or Idle? Has he a Licence? If he has no Licence, what am I to do with him?

I paused. I could now see from my albeit puny notes that the whole question of the Poor was a mighty complex one – one to which I had never expected to address myself. I put down my pen with a sigh. To whom should I look for guidance on a subject about which I seemed to know so very little and upon which my thinking was most horribly muddled? The answer was, of course, Pearce. So it was with another sigh that I took up my quill once more and prepared to write to Pearce, thereby to solicit a return letter full of criticism and scorn. The task wearied me even before I had begun it – but a sweet sound interrupted me: Celia was singing. I left my Study at once and went to the Music Room, where I sat in silence on a small, spindly chair and let my wife's voice drive from my mind all contemplation of the homeless and the needy.

That same night, I had a dream of some consequence: I was standing on the leads of my house and staring at the winter stars, not through my telescope, which was nowhere to be seen, but with my own inadequate eyes. After some hours of astral contemplation (or so it seemed in the dream) I felt a most terrible hurt in my eyes and a wetness on my face, as of tears. With my coatsleeve, I brushed the tears away, but on glancing at my sleeve saw a red stain upon it and knew that my eyes were bleeding. I was about to descend, to put some sad bandage upon my face, when I saw the King, seated some distance from me upon a low chimney stack and regarding me most gravely.