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. — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
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.
John Stuart Mill · en
He did not recollect that either of the Messrs. Lamberts’ were present
at the mill, on his first entrance. The newly arrived were received by
Mr. Baker, the head manager, and by the overlookers of the respective
rooms. They were mustered in the making-up room; the boys and girls
in separate divisions. After being looked at, and laughed at, they
were dispersed in the various floors of the mill, and set to various
tasks.—Blincoe was assigned to a room, over which a man named _Smith
presided_. The task first allotted to him was, to pick up the loose
cotton, that fell upon the floor. Apparently, nothing could be easier,
and he set to with diligence, although much terrified by the whirling
motion and noise of the machinery, and not a little affected by the dust
and flue with which he was half suffocated. They span coarse numbers;
unused to the stench, he soon felt sick, and by constantly stooping, his
back ached. Blincoe, therefore, took the liberty to sit down; but this
attitude, he soon found, was strictly forbidden in cotton mills. His
task-master (Smith) gave him to understand, he must keep on his legs.
Ho did so, till twelve o’clock, being six hours and a half, without the
least intermission.—Blincoe suffered at once by thirst and hunger—the
moment the bell rang, to announce dinner, all were in motion to get out
as expeditiously as possible. Blincoe ran out amongst the crowd, who
were allowed to go—never, in his life, before did he know the value of
wholesome air so perfectly. He had been sick almost to fainting, and it
revived him instantaneously! The cocknies mingled together, as they made
progress towards the apprentice-house! Such as were playsome made to
each other! and the melancholy seemed to mingle their tears! When they
reached the apprentice-room, each of them had a place assigned at the
homely board! Blincoe does not remember of what his dinner consisted;
but is perfectly sure, that neither roast beef nor plum-pudding made its
appearance—and that the provisions, the cookery, and the mode of serving
it out, were all very much below the standard of the ordinary fare of the
workhouse in which he had been reared.