A Memoir of Robert Blincoe, an Orphan Boy: Sent from the workhouse of St. Pancras, London, at seven years of age, to endure the horrors of a cotton-mill, through his infancy and youth, with a minute detail of his sufferings, being the first memoir of the kind published.Brown, John
Philosophy
A Memoir of Robert Blincoe, an Orphan Boy: Sent from the workhouse of St. Pancras, London, at seven years of age, to endure the horrors of a cotton-mill, through his infancy and youth, with a minute detail of his sufferings, being the first memoir of the kind published.
Brown, John
Blincoe, Robert, approximately 1792-; Child labor -- England -- Derbyshire; Cotton manufacture -- England -- Derbyshire; Derbyshire (England) -- Biography; Textile workers -- England -- Derbyshire -- Biography
The young strangers were conducted into a spacious room, fitted up
in the style of the dinner-room, in Pancras old workhouse, viz: with
long, narrow deal tables, and wooden benches. Although the rooms seemed
tolerably clean, there was a certain rank, oily, smell, which Blincoe did
not very much admire. They were ordered to sit down at these tables—the
boys and girls apart. The other apprentices had not left work, when this
supply of children arrived. The supper set before them consisted of
milk-porridge, of a very blue complexion! The bread was partly made of
rye—very black, and so soft, they could scarcely swallow it, as it stuck
like bird-lime to their teeth. Poor Blincoe stared, recollecting this was
not so good a fare as they had been used to at Saint Pancras. Where is
our roast beef and plum-pudding, he said to himself. He contrived, with
some difficulty, to eat about one half of his allowance. As the young
strangers gazed mournfully at each other, the governor and governess,
as the master and mistress of the apprentices were styled, kept walking
round them, and making very coarse remarks. Just as they had passed
Blincoe, some of the girls began making faces, and one flung a dab of
bread against the wall, where it stuck fast, as if it had been plaister.
This caught the eye of the governor—a huge raw-boned man, who had served
in the army, and had been a drill serjeant, unexpectedly, he produced a
large horse-whip, which he clanged in such a sonorous manner, that it
made the house re-echo. In a moment, the face-makers and bread throwers
were reduced to solemn silence and abject submission. Even young Blincoe
was daunted—he had been one of the ring-leaders in these seditious
proceedings; but so powerful was the shock to his nerves, sustained from
the tremendous clang of the horse-whip, it bereft him of all his gaity,
and he sat as demure as a truant-scholar, just previous to his flogging.
Yet the master of the house had not uttered a single threat; nor indeed
had he occasion; his carbuncled nose—his stern and forbidding aspect and
his terrible horse-whip, inspired quite as much terror as was requisite.
Knowing that the apprentices from the mill were coming, this formidable
being retired, to the great relief of the young strangers, but so deep an
impression had he created, they sat erect and formal, scarcely daring to
look beyond the nose. Whilst they were in this subdued and neutralised
state, their attention was suddenly and powerfully attracted by the loud
shouting of many voices, almost instantly the stone-room filled, spacious
as it was, with a multitude of young persons of both sexes; from young
women down to mere children. Their presence was accompanied by a scent of
no very agreeable nature, arising from the grease and dirt acquired in
the avocation.
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