Climbing
Boys: A Peek at the Reality of Life in Regency England
By Penny
Hampson
As a writer of historical fiction set in
Regency England, I often describe scenes where my characters are warming
themselves by an open fire, so I decided to look at how fireplaces and chimneys
in those stately homes and inns were maintained in the past. Believe me, it
wasn’t pleasant, and some of you may
find the details upsetting.
From the late 17th century onwards, the number
of brick built houses in towns rapidly grew. As a result of the Great Fire of
London in 1666, a Government Act was brought in to regulate the construction of
buildings, covering such things as the thickness of the brickwork, ceiling
heights, etc. Coal, increasingly used as fuel instead of wood, required a good
draught to burn efficiently and so fireplaces were designed with reduced sized
flues. These narower flues became blocked more frequently if they were not
swept regularly, leading to the danger of fire. Previously, older style flues,
being wider, were not as difficult for a householder himself to clean, but
these more modern, narrower flues posed a problem.
In England, Building Acts of 1774, 1834, and
1840, sought to diminish the risk of chimney fires by stipulating that chimneys
should be regularly cleaned. Master sweeps were unable to negotiate the reduced
sized flues themselves, so small boys, and sometimes girls, were employed to do
the job.
The children themselves came from the poorest
sections of society, from parents who were unable to provide for their
families, or more often, from parish workhouses who wished to alleviate the
burden of the Poor Rate on their parishioners. Life for children in the
workhouse was pretty dreadful anyway; a survey of 1765 found that in one London
workhouse out of 78 children admitted in one year 64 died. In another
workhouse, not one child survived in fourteen years. As an inducement to take
parish children, workhouses offered a payment to prospective employers looking
for ‘apprentices’. Charles Dickens references this practice in Oliver Twist.
A widow selling her son to a chimney sweep. |
Climbing boys were ‘apprenticed’ to chimney
sweeps. Apprenticeship generally meant learning a recognised trade, so that on
adulthood, the apprentice could become a tradesman in his own right.
Unfortunately, this was not the case for climbing boys. If he managed to reach
adulthood at all, a climbing boy would most likely be in ill-health, and
deformed due to being forced into unnatural angles to negotiate the twisting,
narrow flues. Elbows and knees became scarred and thickened by being constantly
scraped against the brickwork; knees also suffered under the stress of carrying
heavy bags of soot.
‘Short life is very common among them,
frequently from their being exposed to colds, coughs, and from the poor and
miserable and half-starved manner in which they generally live, as many of them
are not allowed to eat anything, except what they obtain through the generosity
of the inhabitants whose chimneys they sweep.’
Boys frequently got stuck, and were burned or
suffocated while cleaning. In 1794, a boy was suffocated in a flue in
Stradishall, Suffolk. In 1811 a boy in Wakefield was burned to death when he
fell down a flue. In 1808, a boy got stuck in a chimney and had to be rescued
by the house owner removing bricks to create an opening. When his master
returned, the boy, who was weak and suffering from fatigue, was beaten and sent
on his way to clean another chimney.
In 1813, another boy was not so lucky. Sent up
a brewery chimney by his master, the eight-year-old did not return. A hole was
made to pull him out, but he was already dead.
Cruelty by the master sweeps was not uncommon,
the argument being that boys would not go up the chimneys otherwise. There are
numerous reports of boys being beaten and starved. In February of 1808, a boy
died of exposure after starting work at three in the morning. In a leaflet
entitled An Appeal to the Humanity of the British Public, the deaths of
six boys in 1816, and eight in 1818 were recorded. One was a boy of five years
old, while another boy was ‘dug out - quite dead’ and ‘the most
barbarous means were used to drag him down’
Another terrible consequence of being a
climbing boy was Chimney sweeps’ carcinoma, a disease affecting the skin
of the scrotum. This was the first reported form of occupational cancer,
identified in 1775. A dreadful disease, the only known cure was the cutting
away of the scrotum and sometimes the testicles; death could result from the
disease itself or the surgery.
As early as 1773, there had been calls for
action to alleviate the sufferings of the climbing boys, notably by one man,
the philanthropist Jonas Hanway. His intervention brought about legislation in
1788, which ostensibly prohibited the use of boys under eight years of age.
But matters did not improve. In The
Gentleman’s Magazine for November1802, the following appeal was published
by someone signing himself as a ‘Friend to progress
in Social life’:
‘Must a number of children be dwarfed and
disfigured, and, what is worse, made the victims of brutal cruelty, who, if
rescued from such a situation, might contribute to the strength of our navy,
the culture of our fields, and thus repay, by important services, the
benevolent invention which raised them to a place of honour in civil life… to
climb, shivering and naked, a cold and dirty chimney, whilst their only reward
is hard fare, and worse lodging. The master learns to be a tyrant, the boy
acquires the disposition of a slave.’
Speaking of tyrants, the same edition of The
Gentleman’s Magazine includes a vivid account of a well-known chimney
sweep. Mrs Bridger, otherwise known as Mother Brownrigg, was reported as having
died at her house in Swallow Street. On the morning of her death she had drunk
a pint of gin, due to being low in spirits, because her foreman, Peter Cavanagh
had been convicted and sentenced to six months imprisonment for the kidnap and
cruel treatment of a child, and she was likely to face the same charges.
With the death of her partner ten months
previously (in the article, doubt is cast on whether she was actually married
to Mr Bridger) she had been constantly confined to bed by badly ulcerated legs,
a result of her heavy drinking. She was reported to drink three or four ‘glasses
of liquor’ before breakfast, and a couple of pints of beer. ‘The
remainder of the day she spent in like manner.’ To visitors, she would
complain of her low spirits whilst taking a drink from the bottle that ‘always
stood by her bedside’.
It was reported that, for amusement, she would
have one of her young apprentices brought to her, have him stripped naked, then
she would beat him ‘in a most cruel and barbarous manner with a large stick’
kept by her bedside for that purpose. When she was in a good mood, she would
force her apprentices to box each other, giving ‘a piece of plum pudding or
a halfpenny to the victor.’
Her apprentices were forced to get up at three
every morning and, barefooted and shirtless, made to sweep chimneys. Returning
home, they were then required to scour the stairs, and undertake other menial
household tasks before they received their meal.
After her death, her body was put on public
display, ‘the neighbours and passengers wishing to see a monster, concerning
whom they had heard much’.
The article describes her as ‘a disgrace to
her sex and to humanity, as well as the torment and scourge of all who had the
misfortune to have any connection with her.’
In 1817 the legislation banning the use of boys
under eight years of age was still largely being ignored. It was reported that,
though the majority of boys were between the ages of eight and fourteen,
children of five and six were still being employed to clean small chimneys.
‘Little boys for small flues’ was a popular
slogan used on chimney sweeps’ trade cards, to assure customers that they would
be able to deal with the very small flues of ovens and coppers, which were
usually less than nine inches square.
An account of 1819, tells of another
unfortunate incident.
‘the boy was employed in sweeping the
library chimney; the boy went freely and voluntarily up the chimney, and
knowing it to be a troublesome chimney, two boys went up at the same time; the
little boy went out at the top of the chimney, the deceased was in the slanting
part of the chimney and was … overpowered by the soot and suffocated. … a
bricklayer was got and the chimney was broken into, where the boy was found,
his head surrounded on all sides by the soot; he was suffocated and dead; … he
was nearly an hour and a half in the chimney.’
If a boy got stuck and did manage to get out
alive, he would not receive much sympathy from a master, more likely he would
suffer a beating for causing trouble and embarrasment. The death of a boy would
be hushed-up, with the boy’s body being brought out the house surreptitiously,
and household staff warned not to mention it.
One of the worst jobs a climbing boy could be
given, was to act as a ‘nightman’, that is, cleaning out privies. This was a
task usually given to the smallest boy.
‘I have been tied round the middle and let
down several Privies, for the purpose of fetching watches and things; it is
generally made the practice to take the smallest boy and let him through the
hole without taking up the seat, and to paddle about there till he finds it,
they do not take a big boy because it disturbs the seat.’
Despite all the cruelties, deaths, and even the
fact that mechanical sweeping machines, able to deal with the narower flues,
had been in existence since 1803, legislation to ban the use of climbing boys
continued to be defeated, notably in 1817, 1818, and 1819. It was only in 1875
that Lord Shaftesbury (1801-1885), philanthropist and social reformer,
succeeded in introducing a Bill that was finally passed.
Lord Shaftesbury. |
So next time you read a story set in the past,
where one of the characters leans casually against a mantelpiece, or someone
warms themselves next to a blazing fire, spare a thought for the poor little
mites who were forced to clean the chimneys, and be thankful that this terrible
practice was brought to a halt.
An Officer’s Vow
By Penny Hampson
The future looks bleak to Major Nate Crawford. Depressed after being sent home from the Peninsular Campaign as unfit for service, he contemplates ending it all. Then an unexpected opportunity for adventure beckons in the shape of a delightfully intriguing runaway heiress. He will prove his worth as an officer and a gentleman by offering his help. He has a plan…
Lottie Benham is desperate. Her life is in danger and she needs a place of safety until her next birthday. The unexpected proposal from this attractive, but intimidating officer could be the answer to her prayers. Not normally a risk-taker, she decides to gamble all by placing her trust in this charismatic gentleman, who she suspects might be more in need of help than she.
But the best laid plans…
Caught up in conflict, danger, and deception, will Lottie and Nate survive to find the perfect solution to their problems?
Penny Hampson
Having worked in various sectors before becoming a full time mum, Penny Hampson decided to follow her passion for history by studying with the Open University. She graduated with honours and went on to complete a post-graduate degree.
Penny then landed her dream role, working in an environment where she was surrounded by rare books and historical manuscripts. Flash forward nineteen years, and the opportunity came along to indulge her other main passion – writing historical fiction. Encouraged by friends and family, three years later Penny published her debut novel A Gentleman’s Promise.
Penny lives with her family in Oxfordshire, and when she is not writing, she enjoys reading, walking, swimming, and the odd gin and tonic (not all at the same time).
Sources
The Climbing Boys, A Study of Sweeps’ Apprentices, 1773-1875, K. H. Strange, 1982, Allison & Busby
The Chimney-Sweeper’s Friend and the Climbing Boy’s Album, London, 1824
Clamp, P. G. (1984). Climbing boys, childhood, and society in nineteenth-century england. The Journal of Psychohistory, 12(2), 193. Retrieved from https://ezproxy-prd.bodleian.ox.ac.uk:2186/docview/1305585442?accountid=13042
Great Britain, Parliament, Parliamentary Papers (Commons), 1817, vol. VI (Reports), Cmmd. 400, June 1817, ‘Report from the Committee on Employment of Boys in Sweeping of Chimnies: Together with the Minutes of Evidence Taken Before the Committee, and an Appendix, 23 June 1817.
‘An Account of the Proceedings of the Society for Superseding the Necessity of Climbing Boys, 1816’ The Edinburgh Review LXIV (October 1819)
Image of 2 boys on donkey https://wellcomecollection.org/works/gec86pkb
Trade card for William Woodward, 18th century. Credit: Wellcome Collection. CC BY
Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury by John Collier, National Portrait Gallery
Thank you for hosting my article on your blog, Mary Anne.
ReplyDeleteI was going to say I enjoyed your article, but it's not the right verb in the circumstances. It was morbidly fascinating, and compelling, though! What happened to the dreadful Mrs Bridger after everyone had finished looking at her? Does gin act as a preservative?
ReplyDeleteThank you, Mike, I’m so pleased you found the article interesting. It was certainly an emotionally difficult one for me to research.
DeleteWhat happened to Mrs Bridger? Well, the article in The Gentleman’s Magazine goes on to say that she was interred on the evening of 28th in St Mary-le-Bone burying ground. ‘The body was borne by four men belonging to an undertaker, with two small sweeps following as chief mourners.’
Next came an old lady from the workhouse who had attended Mrs Bridger in her final illness.
The rest of the funeral cavalcade was formed by a mob ‘loudly vociferating very hideous mock lamentations, with ragged sheets of paper in their hands as substitutes for weeping handkerchiefs.’ It sounds like it was quite a noisy event! ‘We may unequivocally affirm, that a prince could not have more come through curiosity to see him buried, than had the notorious Mrs. Bridger.’
I don’t know about gin acting as a preservative… could be worth experimenting!