day, to work _naked_, except his trousers, and loaded with two half
hundred weights slung behind him, hanging one at each shoulder. Under
this cruel torture, he soon sunk; when, to make the sport last the
longer, Woodward substituted quarter of hundred weights, and thus loaded,
by every painful effort, Blincoe could not lift his arm to the roller.
Woodward has forced him to wear these weights for hours together, and
still to continue at his work! Sometimes, he has been commanded to pull
off his shirt and get into a large square skip, when, the savage, being
sure of his mark, and that, not a blow would be lost, used to beat him
till he was tired! At other times, Blincoe has been hoisted upon other
boys’ shoulders, and beaten with sticks till he has been shockingly
discoloured and covered with contusions and wounds.
What spinners call, a _draw off_, at one of those frames at which Blincoe
worked, required about forty seconds. Woodward has often insisted upon
Blincoe cleaning all the cotton away under the whole frame, in a single
draw, and to go out at the further end, under pain of a severe beating.
On one of these occasions, Blincoe had nearly lost his life, being caught
between the faller and the head piece, his head was jammed between them.
Both his temples were cut open and the blood poured down each side of his
face, the marks to be seen! It was considered next to a miracle, that he
escaped with his life! So far from feeling the least compassion, Woodward
beat him cruelly, because he had not made _more haste_! Blincoe says,
to the best of his recollection, he was twelve years of age, when this
accident happened.
It is a fact, too notorious to be denied, that the most brutal and
ferocious of the spinners, stretchers, rovers, &c. have been in the
habit, from mere wantonness, of inflicting severe punishments upon
piecers, scavengers, frame-tenters, winders, and others of the juvenile
class, subjected to their power, compelling them to eat dirty pieces of
candle, to lick up tobacco spittle, to open their mouths for the filthy
wretches to spit into; all which beastialities have been practised
upon the apprentices at Litton Mill! Among the rest, Blincoe has often
suffered these indignities. What has a tendency to display human nature
in its worst state, is, that most of the overlookers, who acted thus
cruelly, had arrived in the mill as parish apprentices, and, as such, had
undergone all these offensive inflictions!
There was, however, one diversion, which, in all my enquiries as to
cotton-mill _amusements_, I never found paralleled. Of this Robert
Woodward, if I mistake not, has a claim to the honour of being the
_original inventor_. It was thus executed.—A tin can or cylinder, about
three feet high, to receive the rovings, and about nine or ten inches in
diameter, was placed in the midst of the alley or wheel-house, as the
space is called, over which the frames travel at every draw, and pretty
close to the race. Upon this can or hollow cylinder, Blincoe had to
mount; and there to stand upon one foot, holding a long brush extended
in the opposite hand, until the frame came out, about three times in two
minutes, invariably knocking the can from under him, both fell to the
floor. The villian used to place the can so near the race, that there
was considerable danger of Blincoe falling on it, and, if so, it would
probably have lamed him for life if it had not killed him on the spot;
and he had, with the utmost possible celerity, to throw himself flat
upon the floor, that the frame might pass over him! During this short
interval, the amateurs, i.e. Robert Woodward, Charnock, Merrick, &c.
used to set the can upright again, and it required no small share of
ingenuity, in them, to keep time. The frame being returned, poor Blincoe
had to leap on his feet, and again to mount nimbly on the hollow column
of tin, again to extend his arm, holding the long hair brush, and again
sustain a fall, amidst the shouts and yells of these fiends. Thus would
the villians continue to persecute and torment him, till they were tired,
notwithstanding the _sport_ might have been his death. He ran the risk
of a broken bone, or the dislocation of a limb, every time he was thus
thrown down; and the time the monsters thus wasted, they afterwards made
up by additional labour wrung from their wretched victims!
Another of their diversions consisted in tying Blincoe’s hands behind him
and one of his legs up to his hands. He had then only one leg left free
to hop upon, and no use left of his hands to guard him, if he chanced
to fall, and if Blincoe did not move with activity, the overlooker
would strike a blow with his clenched fist, or cut his head open by
flinging rollers. If he fell, he was liable to have his leg or arm broken
dislocated. Every one conversant with cotton-spinning machinery knows the
danger of such _diversions_, and of their cruelty, every one can judge.
There seemed to exist a spirit of emulation, and infernal spirit, it
might with justice be designated, among the overlookers of Litton Mill,
of inventing and inflicting the most novel and singular punishments. For
the sake of being the better able, and more effectually to torment their
victims, the overlookers allowed their thumb and fore-finger nails to
grow to an extreme length, in order that, when they _pinched their ears_,
they might make their nails meet, _marks to be seen_.
Needham himself the owner of the Mill, stands arraigned of having the
cruelty to act thus, very frequently, till their blood ran down their
necks, and so common was the sport, it was scarcely noticed. As regarded
Blincoe, one set of wounds had not seldom time to heal, before another
set was inflicted; the general remedy that Blincoe applied was, the oil
used to keep the machinery in order. The despicable wretches, who thus
revelled in acts of lawless oppression, would often, to indulge the whim
of a moment, fling a roller at a boy’s head, and inflict deep wounds,
and this, frequently, without even a shadow of a fault to allege, or
even a plausible reason to assign in justification! At another time, if
the apprentices stood fair for the infliction of a stripe, with a twig
or the whip, the overlookers would apply it, with the utmost vigour, and
then, bursting into laughter, call it _a —— good hit_! Blincoe declared
he had, times innumerable been thus assailed, and has had his head cut
severely, without daring to complain of the cause. Woodward and others of
the overlookers used to beat him with pieces of the thick leathern straps
made supple by oil, and having an iron buckle at the end, which drew
blood almost every time it was applied, or caused severe contusions.
Among Blincoe’s comrades in affliction, was an orphan boy, who came
from St. Pancras workhouse, whose proper name was James Nottingham;
but better known as “_blackey_,” a nick name that was given to him, on
account of his black hair, eyes, and complexion. According to Blincoe’s
testimony, this poor boy suffered even greater cruelties, than fell to
his own share! by an innumerable number of blows, chiefly inflicted on
his head!—by wounds and contusions, his head swelled enormously, and
he became stupid! To use Blincoe’s significant expression, “his head
was as soft as a boiled turnip,” the scalp on the crown, pitting every
where on the least compression. This poor boy, being reduced to this most
pitiable condition, by unrestrained cruelty, was exposed to innumerable
outrages, and was, at last, incapable of work, and often plundered
of his food!—melancholy and weeping, he used to creep into holes and
corners, to avoid his tormentors. From mere debility, he was inflicted by
incontinency of stools and urine! To punish this infirmity, conformably
as Blincoe declared, to the will of Ellice Needham, the master, his
allowance of broth, butter-milk, porridge, &c. was withheld! During the
summer time, he was mercilessly scourged! In winter, stripped quite
naked, and he was slung, with a rope tied round his shoulders, into the
dam, and dragged to and fro, till he was nearly suffocated. They would
then draw him out, and sit him on a stone, under a pump, and pump upon
his head, in a copious stream, while some stout fellow was employed to
sluice the poor wretch with pails of water, flung with all possible fury
into his face. According to the account I received, not alone Blincoe,
but several other of the Litton Mill apprentices, when these horrid
inflictions had reduced the poor boy to a state of idiotism,—his wrongs
and sufferings,—his dismal condition,—far, from exciting sympathy, but
increased the mirth of these vulgar tyrants! His wasted and debilitated
frame was seldom, if ever, free from wounds and contusions, and his head
covered with running sores and swarming with lice, exhibited a loathsome
object! In consequence of this miserable state of filth and disease, poor
Nottingham has many times had to endure the excruciating torture of the
pitch and scalping cap already named!
Having learnt, in 1822, that this forlorn child of misery was then
at work in a cotton factory, near Oldfield Lane, I went in search of
and found him. At first, he seemed much embarrassed, and when I made
enquiries as to his treatment at Litton Mill, to my surprise, he told me
“he knew nothing whatever about it.” I then, related what Blincoe and
others had named to me, of the horrid tortures he endured. “I dare say,”
said he mildly, “he told you truth, but I have no distinct recollection
of any thing that happened to me during the greater part of the time I
was there! I believe,” said he, “my sufferings was most dreadful, and
that I nearly lost my senses.” From his appearance, I guessed he had not
been so severely worked as others of the poor crippled children whom I
had seen! As well as I can recollect, his knees were not deformed, or if
at all, but very little! He is much below the middle size, as to stature.
His countenance round, and his small and regular features, bore the
character of former sufferings and present tranquility of mind.
In the course of my enquiries respecting this young man, I was much
gratified, by hearing the excellent character given him in the vicinity
of his lodging. Several persons spoke of him as being serious and well
inclined, and his life and conduct irreproachable.
We frequently had our best dinner in the week on a Sunday, and it was
generally broth, meat and turnips, with a little oat-cake, the meat was
of as coarse a sort as could be bought. This being our extra dinner,
we did not wish to part with it too soon, therefore it was a general
practice amongst the ’prentices to save some of it until Monday, in the
care of the governor of the ’prentice-house, and for each one to know
their own. The practice was to cut in their oat-cake, some mark or other,
and lay it on their wooden trenchers. It happened one Sunday we had our
dinner of bacon broth and turnips with a little oat-cake. This Sunday,
one Thomas Linsey, a fellow ’prentice thought he could like a snack,
early in the morning, therefore he took a slice of bacon between two
pieces of oat-cake to bed with him, and put it under his head I cannot
say, under his pillow, because we never was allowed any. The next morning
about three or four o’clock, as it was a usual practice in the summer
time when short of water, for a part of the hands to begin their work
sooner, by this contrivance we was able to work our full time or near.
Linsey was found dead in bed, and as soon as some of the ’prentices knew
of his death, as they slept about 50 in a room, there was a great scuffle
who should have the bacon and oat-cake from under his head, some began
to search his pockets for his tin, this tin he used to eat his victuals
with; some had pieces of broken pots, as no spoons was allowed. It was
reported this Sunday that this pig had died in the Lees, a place so
called at the back of the ’prentice-house. There was no coroner’s inquest
held over Linsey to know the cause of his death. I shall leave the reader
to judge for himself this distressing sight, at so early an hour in the
morning.—This occurred at Litton Mill.
It might be supposed, that these horrid inflictions had been practised,
in this cotton-factory, unknown to the master and proprietor of Litton
Mill; but the testimony, not of Blincoe alone, but of many of his former
associates unknown to him, gave similar statements, and like Blincoe,
described Ellice Needham the master, as equalling the very worst of his
servants in cruelty of heart! So far from having taken any care to stop
their career, he used to animate them by his own example to inflict
punishment in any and every way they pleased. Mr. Needham stands accused
of having been in the habit of knocking down the apprentices with his
clenched fists;—kicking them about when down, beating them to excess with
sticks, or flogging them with horse-whips; of seizing them by they ears,
lifting them from the ground and forcibly dashing them down on the floor,
or pinching them till his nails met! Blincoe declares his oppressors used
to seize him by the hair of his head and tear it off by a handful at a
time, till the crown of his head had become as bald as the back of his
hand! John Needham, following the example of his father, and possessing
unlimited power over the apprentices, lies under the imputation of crimes
of the blackest hue, exercised upon the wretched creatures, from whose
laborious toil, the means of supporting the pomp and luxury in which he
lived were drawn. To boys, he was a tyrant and an oppressor! To the girls
the same, with the additional odium of treating them with an indecency as
disgusting as his cruelty was terrific. Those unhappy creatures were at
once the victims of his ferocity and his lust.
For some trivial offence, Robert Woodward once kicked and beat Robert
Blincoe, till his body was covered with wheals and bruises. Being
tired, or desirous of affording his young master the luxury of amusing
himself on the same subject, he took Blincoe to the counting-house, and
accused him of wilfully spoiling his work. Without waiting to hear
what Blincoe might have to urge in his defence, young Needham eagerly
looked about for a stick; not finding one at hand, he sent Woodward to an
adjacent coppice, called the Twitchell, to cut a supply, and laughingly
bade Blincoe strip naked, and prepare himself for a good _flanking_!
Blincoe obeyed, but to his agreeable surprise, young Needham abstained
from giving him the promised flanking. The fact was, the poor boy’s
body was so dreadfully discoloured and inflamed by contusions, its
appearance terrified the young despot, and he spared him, thinking that
mortification and death might ensue, if he laid on an other “flanking.”
Hence his unexpected order to Blincoe to put on his things! There was
not, at the time, a free spot on which to inflict a blow! His ears
were swollen and excoriated; his head, in the most deplorable state
imaginable; many of the bruises on his body had suppurated! and so
excessive was his soreness, he was forced to sleep on his face, if sleep
he could obtain, in so wretched a condition!
Once a week, and generally after sixteen hours of incessant toil, the
eldest girls had to comb the boys’ heads; an operation, that being alike
painful to the sufferer, as disgusting to the girls, was reluctantly
endured, and inefficiently performed. Hence arose the frequency of
scald-heads and the terrible scalping remedy! Upon an average, the
children were kept to work during a great part, if not all, the time
Blincoe was at Litton Mill, sixteen hours in the day. The result of this
excessive toil, superadded to hunger and torture, and was the death of
many of apprentices, and the entailment of incurable lameness and disease
on many others.
The store pigs and the apprentices used to fare pretty much alike;
but when the swine were hungry, they used to speak and grunt so loud,
they obtained the wash first, to quiet them. The apprentices could be
intimidated, and made to keep still. The fatting pigs fared luxuriously,
compared with the apprentices! They were often regaled with meal-balls
made into dough, and given in the shape of dumplings! Blincoe and others,
who worked in a part of the Mill, whence they could see the swine served,
used to say to one another—“_The pigs are served; it will be our turn
next._” Blincoe and those who were in a part of the building contiguous
to the pigsties, used to keep a sharp eye upon the fatting pigs, and
their meal-balls, and, as soon as he saw the swine-herd withdraw, he used
to slip down stairs, and, stealing slyly towards the trough, plunge his
hand in at the loop holes, and steal as many dumplings as he could grasp!
The food thus obtained from a pigs trough, and, perhaps, defiled by their
filthy chops, was exultingly conveyed to the privy or the duck-hole,
and there devoured with a much keener appetite, than it would have been
by the pigs; but the pigs, though generally esteemed the most stupid of
animals, soon hit upon an expedient, that baffled the hungry boys; for
the instant the meal-balls were put into their troughs, they voraciously
seized them, threw them into the dirt, out of the reach of the boys! Not
this alone; but, made wise by repeated losses, they kept a sharp look
out, and the moment they ascertained the approach of the half-famished
apprentices, they set up so loud a chorus of snorts and grunts, it was
heard in the kitchen, when out rushed the swine-herd, armed with a whip,
from which combined means of protection for the swine, this accidental
source of obtaining a _good dinner_ was soon lost! Such was the contest
carried on for a time at Litton Mill, between the half-famished
apprentices, and the well-fed swine.
I observed to Blincoe, it was not very rational, to rob the pigs, when
they were destined to bleed to supply them with food, as soon as they
grew sufficiently fat! “Oh! you’re mistaken,” said he, “these pigs were
fatted for master’s own table, or were sold at Buxton! We were fed upon
the very worst and cheapest of Irish-fed bacon.” There was, it seems, a
small dairy at Litton Mill; but the butter was all sent to his house.
The butter-milk alone was dispensed, and but very scantily, to the
apprentices. About a table-spoonful of meal was distributed once a week
to the apprentices, with which to wash themselves, instead of soap; but
in nine cases out of ten, it was greedily devoured, and a piece of clay
or sand, or some such thing, substituted: such was the dreadful state of
hunger in which these poor children were kept in this mill.
To attempt a specific statement, how often Blincoe has been kept to work
from five in the morning till midnight, during his period of servitude,
would be hazardous! According to his own testimony, supported by that of
many others, it was, at times of common occurrence, more especially on
the Saturday! In most mills, the adult spinners left off on that day at
_four_ in the afternoon, whilst in these, where parish apprentices were
employed, it was often continued, not only till midnight; but till six
o’clock on the Sunday morning!
Exertion so incessant could not fail to reduce the majority of
apprentices to a state of exhaustion and lassitude, so great as nearly
to disqualify them to benefit by such instructions as an illiterate
clown could afford, who officiated on Sundays as schoolmasters, or by
divine worship, when they were allowed to attend. Nothing could be more
cheerless, than the aspect of these juvenile sufferers, these helpless
outcasts, nor more piteous than the wailings and lamentations of that
portion, chiefly of the tenderest years, whom long familiarity with vice
and misery had not rendered wholly callous.
A blacksmith or mechanic, named William Palfrey, who resided at Litton,
worked in a room under that where Blincoe was employed. He used to be
much disturbed by the shrieks and cries of the boys, whom the manager and
overlookers were almost continually punishing. According to Blincoe’s
declaration, and that of others, human blood has often run from an upper
to a lower floor, shed by these merciless task-masters. Unable to bear
the shrieks of the children, Palfrey used to knock against the floor, so
violently, as to force the boards up, and call out “for shame! for shame!
are you murdering the children?” He spoke to Mr. Needham, and said, he
would not stay in the mill, if such doings were allowed. By this sort of
conduct, the humane blacksmith was a check on the cruelty of the brutal
overlookers, as long as he continued in his shop; but he went away home
at seven o’clock, and as soon as Woodward, Merrick, and Charnock knew
that Palfrey was gone, they used to pay off the day’s score, and to beat
and knock the apprentices about without moderation or provocation, giving
them black eyes, broken heads; saying, “I’ll let you know old Palfrey is
not here now!” To protract the evil hour, the boys, when they used to go
down stairs for rovings, would come back and say—“Palfrey and the joiner
are going to work all night,” and sometimes by this manœuvre, they have
escaped punishment.
It happened one day, when Blincoe was about twelve years old, he went to
the counting-house with a cop, such being the custom at every doffing.
While Blincoe was there, another apprentice, named Isaac Moss, came in on
the same errand. Upon the floor stood the tin treacle can, with about 14
pounds of treacle. The sight arrested the attention of Blincoe, who said
softly, “Moss, there is the treacle can come from Tideswell!”—“Eh,” Moss
exclaimed, “so it is.” Blincoe said, “I have no spoon.” Moss rejoined,
“I have two.” Putting his hand to his bosom and pulling out the bowl of
an iron spoon and another which he kept for another person, down they
sat on the floor opposite to each other, with the can between them and
began operations, lading away as fast as they could! Blincoe had a large
sized mouth, and in good condition, but the ruffian, William Woodward the
manager, brother to Robert Woodward, having struck Moss a severe blow on
the mouth, with a large stick, it had swollen so much, that the poor lad
had the mortification of hardly being able to use it, and Blincoe could
stow away at least three spoonsful to Moss’s one! While the conscious
pair were thus employed, the enemy, unheard and unperceived, stole upon
them. It was a dark night; but there was a fire in the counting-house,
by the light of which, over some glass above the top of the door, that
grim spectre, the terror and the curse of these poor boys, Woodward, saw
their diversion! He stood viewing them some time, when suddenly rushing
upon them, he seized upon them as a cat pounces upon cheese-eating mice!
Blincoe being most active with his feet, as well as with his spoon, after
receiving a few kicks and cuffs, ran off to the factory, leaving Moss in
the power, and at the mercy of William Woodward.