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
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.