Three museums in one day?

A bit much, you might think. But no – not when all three are within easy walking distance of each other, small, and linked through three fascinating areas of social history.

I say small, but these museums, in the pretty market town of Ripon, contain enough fascinating information to hold your interest for hours, so be careful to plan, leaving enough time for each.

It doesn’t matter in which order you visit: we began with Ripon Workhouse Museum, giving an amazing insight into the grim atmosphere of life in a Victorian workhouse.

What strikes you first are the levels of organisation. Everything was meticulously regimented, from the block in which people were housed, to the food they ate. Men, women, children, vagrants, all had their place. Families were separated, living in different blocks – men, women, girls and boys.

The Elizabethan Poor Law made each parish responsible for its own poor, visitors are told on one of the many information boards outlining how the workhouse operated.

Paupers’ rations were measured to the last mouthful. Four ounces of boiled beef or mutton without bone, with 10 or 12 ounces of potatoes, mashed in broth, followed by dumpling or rice pudding with treacle sauce, was typical.

To be honest, I didn’t think the food was that bad, and if inmates felt they didn’t have enough they had a right to have it re-weighed. I’d expected a threadbare diet of bread and gruel – and no questions asked – like something out of Oliver Twist.

“We are a bit conditioned with our views of workhouses by Dickens, but small workhouses in towns like this weren’t too bad,” says Richard Taylor, chairman of Ripon Museums Trust, the educational charity which runs the three attractions. “And when you think about it, what was the alternative life for these people?”

Clothing was handed in, and a simple uniform issued. Cleanliness was high on the agenda, with vagrants subjected to de-infestation, a process carried out under a high-powered light, with the use of chemicals such as ethyl formate.

Vagrants were the lowest order, and received no food until eight hours of work had been completed.

And work they did. All inmates took their turns in the laundry, joiners’ shop, piggery and kitchen. The large, sheltered walled garden was a hive of activity, as it is today, with trust volunteers tending the flower, vegetable and herb beds to recreate the scenes of yesteryear.

Produce is sold to Lockwoods, a local restaurant which makes reference to the source in its dishes.

Beds were narrow – just over 2ft (61cm) wide, with a slightly wider bed for mothers and infants.

“Families were separated, it is thought, to stop procreation of the poor,” says Richard, adding that the workhouse “opens people’s eyes as to how we deal with welfare issues – it is as much about the present as the past. Many solutions people refer to now have been tried in the past.

The workhouse was neither good nor bad, it had elements of both.”

A few minutes’ walk away, the Police and Prison Museum is also alive with echoes of the past.

The history of policing, from uniforms through-the ages – which can be tried on – to weaponry and punishments is here. It enlightened me as to Bradford’s pioneering role in the history of fingerprints.

The first Fingerprint Bureau in England was established at Scotland Yard in 1090, and two years later Bradford City Police Force had three officers trained in the ‘new science’.

Established in 1906, the West Riding Fingerprint Bureau has the oldest provincial fingerprint record in the country. The modern bureau in West Yorkshire traces its roots to it and still maintains the collection.

Old-fashioned speed guns are here, as is a photograph of an early police speed trap – an officer precariously balanced on a roof, signalling to a colleague as a car passed. The other officer then timed it with a stop watch. Bound to raise a smile, it’s straight out of Keystone Cops.

Until November 30, a fascinating exhibition of previously unseen criminal mugshots taken between 1877 and 1930 is on show at the museum. Some smart and attractive, some grimy and dishevelled, some in uniform, they stand with their information boards. It is not dissimilar to today, although most wear a hat.

Among them are Owen Cavill, who was arrested for stealing sheep, and housekeeper Emma Child, who stole a woollen sweater. Little is known about them, and the museum’s trust has appealed to anyone who visits the exhibition who has any further information on the subjects to contact them.

The cells are grim, and prisoners exercised on specially-designed equipment such as a large revolving, stepped wheel, or a hand crank, often manoeuvred through sand – turning it 10,000 times a day. You can have a go yourself.

We ended our day at Courthouse Museum, which remains virtually unchanged since it was built in 1830. Walking from the grand jury room, with its polished table, to the lofty courtroom, it was like being on a film set.

Here, harsh sentences were meted out to adults and children, many of whom were sent for transportation to Australia. Among them was seven-year-old George Smelt, sentenced for stealing shoes worth two shillings (£5 today), and John Barker, also seven, sent away for stealing three hams worth ten shillings.

Staff at the museums were very friendly, taking time to explain what to see.

There is a downside, however – all three attractions are so interesting that it leaves no time to see the rest of Ripon.

That’s for another day.