Rods for Backs......

Unexpectedly coming across a photograph on-line of my maternal grandmother, Margaret Constant apparently taken not too long before her death, got me thinking about her again.  My brother and I always knew her as Old Nan and we were definitely intimidated by her of that there was no doubt.   Not surprising perhaps because so was our mother and most of her sisters and it would be true to say that Margaret Constant was not a woman you could easily warm to.   She always sat ramrod straight despite decades as an itinerant field worker, hair scraped from her face and she was rarely seen to smile.   The on-line photo was a perfect depiction of this.

 Because she had many children, over time she accumulated a great many grandchildren and largely her family lived around and about her in Crayford and Dartford, just a few absconding to Thameside towns and villages further afield such as Swanscombe, Greenhithe and Northfleet.   It would be true to say that whatever passed as filial love between her and her offspring caused most of them to vie for her attention and goodwill for the duration of her life.  Not easily loved she definitely inspired a certain amount of respect and deference.

 Although she would routinely hold a new baby in her arms and examine it closely, often asking questions or passing comments on its appearance, as we grew older I can never remember sitting on her knee or being the recipient of a loving hug from her.   I don’t think she ever gave any of us a grandmotherly kiss.   It could be that she was simply reflecting the emotional relationship that once existed between working class children and their parents and grandparents.    It would be true to say that over the past 120 years this has undergone a major change.   Formality has given way to informality, authoritarianism to libertarianism and distance to closeness.  Perhaps this trend has been particularly evident in families like ours, situated as we were at the very bottom of the heap because the working classes definitely did not escape the accepted norms of the times, in fact their very situation often accentuated the trends.  

 During the first decade of the twentieth century childhood could be a traumatic time for all levels of society rich and poor.   But poor housing, and lack of healthcare meant that many children were extremely unhealthy and could expect to experience more serious illnesses than most in their earliest years.  At the turn of the century the worst infant mortality figure ever was recorded with a third of all working class infants dying before their first birthday.  Of those who survived babyhood one in four would not do so beyond the age of five. The killers included whooping cough, diphtheria, scarlet fever and measles, all conditions we immunize against today.   And now growing numbers of us feel free to be outraged at the very idea of immunization and might even join pressure groups with voices loud enough to object to the idea of such an assault on an innocent child.

 It’s all too easy to forget that where population density was high, overcrowding rife and poor sanitary conditions endemic, infant death became a fact of life.    Where children survived many continued to suffer from dental decay, ear and eye infections, rickets, ringworm, headlice, pneumonia, bronchitis and general under nourishment.    In 1901 a survey in York found that on average the boys of working class families were nearly four inches shorter than those from upper class families and weighed eleven pounds less.  As recently as the 1960s an evening spent in an East End pub might confirm that the locals when reaching adult status seemed still to be smaller of stature than their counterparts from Public Schools.  

 A hundred years ago survival itself was difficult for children but so was their relationship with their parents.  Overcrowding  demanded discipline and obedience was of prime importance, to be fiercely encouraged in the young.  Questioning superiors, particularly parents for whatever reason was often punished.   The acceptance of these attitudes undoubtedly led to a general lack of affection.

 The manner in which children referred to their parents captures the transformation of attitudes over time – they were Mother and Father in 1900, were likely to become Ma and Pa by 1910 and somehow in the middle of the 1920s became Mum and Dad where for most they have stayed ever since.  The more avant garde had by 1960 almost dismissed what was beginning to be seen as the rather twee Mummy and Daddy and had given way to the use of first names only, a trend that horrified my mother who said that only over her dead body would she be known as Nell by her children.

 A tough life invariably results in the following generation becoming as emotionally resilient as necessary in order to protect itself.   Perhaps there simply wasn’t room for a great deal of love and understanding.   Certainly Margaret Constant’s children ended up as tough as they needed to be and it took several generations for a tenderness and affection to grow and prosper sufficiently to become the family norm.    There were of course exceptions to this and little pockets of warmth and affection germinated against all odds.   This was the case with Aunt Mag, Margaret Constant’s oldest child who unlike her sisters bucked the trend to grow into a harsh and punitive mother.   Somehow or other she was able to rise above the unforgiving conditions of her upbringing and treat her four children with an excess of indulgence and understanding.

 Her siblings described her as Soft and Aunt Maud observed that she could sometimes be as Soft as Pigshit and Twice as Thick.  Aunt Rose who had been married to Uncle Mervyn long enough to know better than to be unnecessarily profane said she was making a rod for her own back and that was a fact.   My mother tut tutted and commented that Mag would rue the day she didn’t give that Ann of hers more hidings because she certainly needed them if ever a child did.   Mag sensibly ignored such advice and refused to be what she called Too Hard on the kiddies.   In the long run, she maintained, it didn’t pay to treat them harshly.  And in their turn each of them grew up to be adept at making rods for backs and themselves parents to children cushioned by love and as my mother was wont to observe – not a lot of discipline.