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by
Sarah Carpenter (as told to James Rayner Stephens, 1849) |
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James
Rayner Stephens was a Methodist minister who lived in the north west
of England. An activist and social reformer, he campaigned against
the use of children in textile mills. Part of this work involved interviewing
the children themselves about their lives an experiences. |
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 My
father was a glass blower. When I was eight years old my father died
and our family had to go to the Bristol Workhouse. My brother was
sent from Bristol workhouse in the same way as many other children
were - cart-loads at a time. My mother did not know where he was for
two years. He was taken off in the dead of night without her knowledge,
and the parish officers would never tell her where he was.
It was the mother of Joseph Russell who first found out where the
children were, and told my mother. We set off together, my mother
and I, we walked the whole way from Bristol to Cressbrook Mill in
Derbyshire. We were many days on the road.
Mrs. Newton fondled over my mother when we arrived. My mother had
brought her a present of little glass ornaments. She got these ornaments
from some of the workmen, thinking they would be a very nice present
to carry to the mistress at Cressbrook, for her kindness to my brother.
My brother told me that Mrs. Newton's fondling was all a blind; but
I was so young and foolish, and so glad to see him again; that I did
not heed what he said, and could not be persuaded to leave him. They
would not let me stay unless I would take the shilling binding money.
I took the shilling and I was very proud of it.
They took me into the counting house and showed me a piece of paper
with a red sealed horse on which they told me to touch, and then to
make a cross, which I did. This meant I had to stay at Cressbrook
Mill till I was twenty one.
Our common food was oatcake. It was thick and coarse. This oatcake
was put into cans. Boiled milk and water was poured into it. This
was our breakfast and supper. Our dinner was potato pie with boiled
bacon it, a bit here and a bit there, so thick with fat we could scarce
eat it, though we were hungry enough to eat anything. Tea we never
saw, nor butter. We had cheese and brown bread once a year. We were
only allowed three meals a day though we got up at five in the morning
and worked till nine at night.
We had eightpence a year given us to spend: fourpence at the fair,
and fourpence at the wakes. We had three miles to go to spend it.
Very proud we were of it, for it seemed such a sight of money, we
did not know how to spend it.
The master carder's name was Thomas Birks; but he never went by any
other name than Tom the Devil. He was a very bad man - he was encouraged
by the master in ill-treating all the hands, but particularly the
children. I have often seen him pull up the clothes of big girls,
seventeen or eighteen years of age, and throw them across his knee,
and then flog them with his hand in the sight of both men and boys.
Everybody was frightened of him. He would not even let us speak. He
once fell poorly, and very glad we were. We wished he might die.
There was an overlooker called William Hughes, who was put in his
place whilst he was ill. He came up to me and asked me what my drawing
frame was stopped for. I said I did not know because it was not me
who had stopped it. A little boy that was on the other side had stopped
it, but he was too frightened to say it was him. Hughes starting beating
me with a stick, and when he had done I told him I would let my mother
know. He then went out and fetched the master in to me. The master
started beating me with a stick over the head till it was full of
lumps and bled. My head was so bad that I could not sleep for a long
time, and I never been a sound sleeper since.
There was a young woman, Sarah Goodling, who was poorly and so she
stopped her machine. James Birch, the overlooker knocked her to the
floor. She got up as well as she could. He knocked her down again.
Then she was carried to the apprentice house. Her bed-fellow found
her dead in bed. There was another called Mary. She knocked her food
can down on the floor. The master, Mr. Newton, kicked her where he
should not do, and it caused her to wear away till she died. There
was another, Caroline Thompson. They beat her till she went out of
her mind.
We were always locked up out of mill hours, for fear any of us should
run away. One day the door was left open. Charlotte Smith, said she
would be ringleader, if the rest would follow. She went out but no
one followed her. The master found out about this and sent for her.
There was a carving knife which he took and grasping her hair he cut
if off close to the head. They were in the habit of cutting off the
hair of all who were caught speaking to any of the lads. This head
shaving was a dreadful punishment. We were more afraid of it than
of any other, for girls are proud of their hair.
I was there then years and saw a great deal more than I can think
of. My brother, after he was free, came to Cressbrook and stole me
away. But I was so frightened and dateless with the punishment I had
received, that for a long time I was like a person with no wits. I
could hardly find my way from one street into another. They said at
Wright's Factory where I worked that they were sure that I was "none
right". |
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