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INTRODUCTION
――♦――
THE great changes which
have taken place in the nature of employment in the manufacturing
districts of South Lancashire, since the publication of Collier's "View
of the Lancashire Dialect," have not only caused the old appearances of
the country to pass away, but they have altered nearly every thing
appertaining to, or resulting from, the life and condition of man. At the
time when Tim Bobbin was spending his jovial and fecetious days at
Milnrow, such a thing as a cotton or woollen factory was not in existence. The collier then brought his coal to day-light at the mouth of a tunnel,
or what was called "a breast hee," generally opening out, not unlike a
large black sough, on some hill-side. If the road was accessible by a
cart, and one came to be filled, it was filled, the money paid, and the
carter got his tit and his load down the hill as best he might; or if
half a dozen ponies, or, as they were termed, "galloways" came with their
panniers to be loaded, they were supplied if there were coal enough got,
and if otherwise, they would probably have to wait at the place, or went
browzing on the moors, until the coal was brought out; or if the mine were
worked by means of a shaft a windlass and a couple of buckets would
generally be deemed sufficient machinery; and an important concern it must
have been indeed, where a horse and a gin-wheel were put in motion. Farms
were mostly cultivated for the production of milk, butter, and cheese;
oats also, for the family's consumption of meal, in the form of porridge
and oaten cake, would be looked after, and a small patch of potatoes, when
they had come into general use, would probably be found on some favourable
bank attached to each farm. The farming was generally of that kind which
was farming soonest and most easily performed, and it was done by the
husband and other males of the family, whilst the wife and daughters, and
maid servants, if there were any of the latter, attended to the churning,
cheese-making, and household work, and when that was finished, they busied
themselves in carding, dubbing, and spinning of wool, or cotton, as well
as in forming it into warps for the loom. The husband and sons would next,
at times when farm labour did not call them abroad, size the warp, dry
it, and beam it in the loom; and either they, or the females, whichever
happened to be least otherwise employed, would weave the warp down. A
farmer would generally have three or four looms in his house, and thus,
what with the farming, easily and leisurely though it was performed, what
with the house work, and what with the carding, spinning, and weaving,
there was ample employment for the family. If the rent was raised from the
farm, so much the better; if not, the deficiency was made up from the
manufacturing profits; and as the weaver, or makker, as he was called, was
also the vendor, he had a pretty fair command of his own remuneration. Both farmers and cottagers, in the neighbourhoods of Rochdale and Bury,
were, at that time, employed in the flannel manufacture. Many of these
would be both makers of cloth, and sellers, and they would have ample
conveniences for the manufacture on their own premises. It was about this
period that the large and roomy stone buildings which are so frequently
met with in the neighbourhood of Rochdale were erected. The flannel loom
requires a good breadth to work in, and half a dozen such looms would
occupy a large chamber over a whole house. Strangers, on entering one of
these dwellings, are often puzzled to know why the house part has such an
ample extent of floor, but their wonder ceases when they are informed that
these rooms were the working places of women employed in the carding, slubbing, and spinning of wool; that the spinning was done upon one
spindle (whence the name of the latter), that the spinner stood beside a
large wheel to which, with one hand she gave motion, whilst, stepping back
to the extent of her reach, she drew out the slubbing, and having given it
the necessary twist, wound it on the spindle, and so continued until she
had spun cops enough to make a warp. In such an operation, these wide
floors were necessary, the spinner being often the tallest and the longest
armed woman of the family. In those days there were some noble forms in
the country, though Tim Bobbin did not immortalize one of them; a few may
yet be seen, and as the spinner alternately drew out, spun, and wound up
her thread, humming some indistinct words the while, she might not unaptly
have been likened to one of those fate-dispensing beings who are said to
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"Spin the web, and weave the woof,
"The winding sheet of Adam's race."
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The working dress of these our great grand-mothers would, to a town
resident of the present day, seem as singular as their persons would be
remarkable, and their occupation homely. Their outer dress almost
invariably consisted of a blue flannel bed-gown, which left the arm bare
below the elbow; a petticoat of the same material and colour, and an apron
to match, except that sometimes the apron would be of blue linen instead
of flannel. The young women, there not being any combs in use then as
articles of attire, wore their hair long behind, and parted on the
forehead. The married females wore, on their heads, mob caps, of a
thorough cleanly whiteness, whilst their hose, as well as those of the
younger females, were generally of white or black woollen yarn, of their
own knitting; and their shoes were strong, well fastened with leathern thongs, and of a weight which would foot-lock a
modern dandy. Their appearance on Sundays or other holidays was more
varied than when in their working day attire; in addition, on such
occasions, to a clean cap, they would generally wear a smart bed-gown of
white or blue cotton, prints not being then in general use. A pair of
lighter shoes, raised at the heels, would be don'd; and if they went a
short distance from home, they would put on a silk handkerchief, generally
of a brown chocolate colour, with spots, which they threw over their caps,
and tied under the chin. If their visit was to church or chapel on a
Sunday, (and there were not then so many of the latter as at present),
they would make themselves very smart in their stuff-gown, or a garment
much similar, but known as "a rocket," would probably satisfy the
vanity of one of the younger class; instead of bonnets they wore a
low-crowned, broad-brimmed gypsy-hat of felt, or chip covered with silk. If it were during winter, or in broken cold weather, the great oaken kist
would have to yield up its most substantial article of attire; and an
ample crimson or scarlet cloak, of finest wool, double milled, and of an
intense dye that threw a glimmer wherever it moved, was put on, the hood
being thrown over the head, cap, handkerchief and all, and drawn closely
and comfortably round the face, or left open as the wearer chose. The
working dress of the men was a low-crowned hat, with broad brims, a blue
or drab short coat, or rather jacket, of coarse woollen, or fustian; a
waistcoat without neck-collar, and with long flapping pockets; a pair of
breeches, buttoned at the knees, and generally of strong fustian, or
sheep-skin leather; brown or blue hose, home knitted, and of strong
home-made yarn, and very strong shoes, nailed with clinkers, and fastened
by straps and buckles. In the flannel districts, the men also generally
wore a striped flannel apron, which when at the loom hung down, and when
in the fields, or on a journey, would be wrapped round the waist. The
jacket, waistcoat, and breeches of the men, from their having to use much
oil in their manufacturing labour, were greasy always, and often glossy
with grease, and the women's outer garments would have partaken of the
like unctious gloss and odour, had they not been frequently scoured by
that old fashioned, though most thoroughly cleansing washing liquid, which
is produced by human distillation. On the premises of every family might
be found a tub, or a mug of a size sufficiently capacious to hold the
whole product of this pungent liquid, and as a most precious cleanser, it
was carefully collected and consigned to its appointed vessel, thence to
be taken as wanted for use. A clothes washing, in those days, was never
considered to be "greadly dun" unless all the woollen things had been
thoroughly scoured by the great purifier, and afterwards washed and wrung
out of clean hot water. Both men and women, girls and boys, made use of
it to wash their persons, after which they applied water; and when the
operation was finished by a good rubbing with a coarse towel, they came
forth radiant with health and exuberant life. Their working hours, whether
at the loom or on the farm, were, as compared with those of modern
operatives and labourers, spent in leisure. There was often great
irregularity in their observance of working hours, and their duration
varied much, according to the wants, or habits, of individual workers, or
of families. Tea was scarcely known in those days. The epitaph on Tim
Bobbin,
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"John wants
no punch,
"And Moll no tea," |
was not then written, but, unworthy as it is, was a subsequent composition
of his son Thomas. The almost universal breakfast of the working classes,
and indeed of the middle also, consisted of oatmeal porridge, and milk,
with an oaten-butter-cake, or a piece of cheese and oat-cake, to make up. Dinners generally consisted of dumplings, boiled meat, broth and oaten
bread. Potato pies were not uncommon, but then, besides a substantial
crust, they were seasoned with a scantless mixture of beef or mutton. "Aye," a young woman was heard once to say at Milnrow, when taking such a
pie to the oven, "an it is a pottito pie indeed, for its nobbo three
peawnd an a hawve o' mutton in it." After dinner came an hour and a half,
or two hours play, or lounging; and in the afternoon, oat-cake and cheese,
or butter, or oatcake and butter-milk, sufficed for bagging; suppers were
the same as breakfasts, and then play was allowed till bed-time.
It may be remarked here, that in particular localities where the cotton
manufacture had become prevalent, the outer garments of the women were of
strong cotton, of a small stripe, called "weftin in;" in other respects
their attire was the same as that of families in the flannel districts.
But soon a change was destined to come over this scene of homely labour
and plenteous living. In 1769, a patent was taken out for a machine to
spin cotton by rollers; [note] in 1770 the spinning
jenny was patented; in 1785 appeared improved carding, drawing, and roving
frames; after which came the willow, the scutching machine, and the
lapping frame. In 1779 the mule jenny was invented, and in 1785 Watt had
completed his steam engine. Then came a wonderful facility of production,
and a proportionate decrease of the cost, whence followed an increase of
demand, an increase of employment, an increase of population, a crowding
towards the great hive, of many people of all industrial classes, and from
all parts of the kingdom and the world. Next, as a consequence, followed
the breaking up of old associations and the formation of new ones; the
abandonment of old habits; the giving up of old customs; new modes of
dress became common; new modes of living were adopted; new subjects for
thinking were started; new words for the expression of thought were
introduced, and from that time the old dialect, with the old customs of
the country, and the old fashions has been gradually receding, towards
oblivion.
If it were possible that we could live for the present and the future
only, these things might be allowed to pass from human knowledge without
regret, but we cannot so live. Our present and future course must be a
continuation of the past, a bettering of it, a derivation from it, an
improvement, but not an abandonment; we do not cut off the root of a plant
that it may grow. Even if there were not such a thing as this natural
adherence to what has been, there is in the human constitution an
irrepressible tendency to refer to the past, in order the better to shape
our future course, to
"Cast one longing, lingering, look behind;"
that, seeing the way we have come, we may be the better enabled to pursue
that which is before us.
There is also a pleasure in the contemplation, the remembrance, as it
were, through history, of old people who have left the place we live in,
who have quitted the ground we occupy, who have just, as it were, gone out
and shut the door of the house after them, before we got in. We wish to recal them; we would they had stayed a little longer; that they had been
there when we arrived. We go to the door and look for them; up the street,
down the lane, over the meadow, by the wood; but the old folks are not to
be seen high or low, far or near; and we return to our room disappointed. We picture to ourselves the pleasant time we should have
had were they
beside us, how we should have seen the cut of their apparel, their broad
hats, and quaint lappels; their "buckles and sheen;" and heard their old
tales and stories, and caught the tones of their voice, and the accent of
their uncouth words. But it cannot be; they are gone, and there is no
return; we have not seen them, we never shall see them, and again we are
saddened and disappointed. A book, however, in the midst of our regret,
attracts our notice; we open it, and therein we find, not only the
portraiture of those we have been regretting, but their old stories, their
uncouth words, and almost the tones of their voice are therein preserved
for us. We sit down happy in the prize, and enjoy the mental pleasure
which it provides.
Such a book would I place on the shelf of the old house ere I depart. It
may be useful to some, and may perhaps afford amusement to others who
tread these floors, and walk these green fields and brown moors of South
Lancashire in after days. To me it seems that this district is destined to
become the scene of important events. The persuasion haunts me, that these
men, these Saxon Danes, and Saxon Celts of Cambria and Caledon, with their
thoughtful foreheads, reserved speech, knotted shoulders, and iron fists;
that these men, whose lives are familiar with the eyeless, earless,
pulseless Cyclopes of steam; who ride on steam horses, and wield
steam-hammers, compared to which the hammer of Thor was but a child's toy;
that these men, who, from morn to night, attend the beck, the knock, and
the slightest motion of the great powers of water and fire; that these
men, who, assisted by their demons, spin threads, weave cloths, hew coal,
cut stone, weld iron, and saw wood; who level hills, fill up vallies, turn
back rivers, melt rocks, and rend the earth to her womb; that these men
will never disappear from the earth, until they have performed such deeds,
and raised such mind-marks for the bettering of the condition of their
race, as shall point them out to future generations.
Already there is a streak in the horizon of this dark north. Poetry,
history, and the arts, are beginning to embellish science, whilst science
is leading on from wonder to wonder. History speaks of deeds, and the
people by whom they were performed; Poetry looks for words, and the images
which they pourtray; the historian, the poet, and the painter may be
benefitted by a perusal of this book. The historian will find the language
of the personages, whose actions he narrates; the poet will find their
speech and the romance of their life; and the painter will discover a
grouping, and a series of individual Characters, neither of which have
ever been described on canvass.
Several writers have endeavoured, both in prose and rhyme, to express
themselves in the Lancashire dialect, but, with one or two exceptions,
they have not succeeded. The fact is, that until the present edition,
there has not been any true glossary to write the dialect by, that of Tim
Bobbin, if truth may be stated, being itself far from correct. I may be
blamed by some, for being thus candid, but the fact had often been forced
on my attention, both from my own observation and that of others. John
Collier, we must recollect, was born at Urmston, on the borders of
Cheshire. The river Mersey was, in the time of the Saxon Heptarchy, the
boundary line betwixt the two chief kingdoms of Mercia and Northumbria;
and the main battle ground betwixt those two powers would probably lie
betwixt the rivers Dee, Weaver, and Bollin on one side, and the Wyre, the
Ribble, and Irwell on the other, the Mersey being the dividing line. However that may be, it is well known to any one who has paid attention to
the subject, that the Mersey is yet a dividing line betwixt two
dialects. On the Cheshire, or Mercian side of the river, we find the
words, seeink, tawkink, thinkink, speakink; on the Lancashire, or
Northumbrian side, they are seein, tawkin, thinkin, speakin, or, in some
districts, spyekin. Tim Bobbin, however, in his "Tummus an Meary," gives
the Cheshire pronunciation. He also gives the Cheshire word veeol for
veal, instead of the Lancashire vyel; deeal, instead of dyel; heeod,
instead of yed. For a short distance on each side of the river the
dialects are somewhat mingled, whilst further inland they become distinct;
in some places, near the river, one prevails, and at other places the
other is mostly spoken. Urmston is nearly upon this frontier line, and
hence probably Collier got his Cheshire pronunciation. He has also the
Cheshire words cheeons, instead of the Lancashire chens; cheeop, for chep;
cleeon, for clyen; cleeoning, for clyenin,—the g at the end of words
being seldom used in South Lancashire. He has creeas, instead of cryes,
measles; deeod, for dyed; deeol, for dyel; deeoth, for dyeth; dooal, for
dole; dreeomt, for dryemt; feear, for fear; leeof, for lyev; lucko,
another Cheshire word, for loothe, look thou; reeak, for reek, shriek;
reeam, for ryem, cream. These instances might be multiplied, but they are
sufficient to show that "Tim Bobbin's" view of the "Lancashire Dialect"
was not confined to that spoken in South Lancashire. It is also an unsafe
guide in other respects besides its affinity to the Cheshire
pronunciation; we have afterings, instead of afterins; gawstring, for
gawstrin; bettering, for hotterin; inkling, for inklin; crackling, for
cracklin; brimming, for brimmin; deeing, for deein; reaving, for ravin;
riding, for ridin; and other instances where the g should not appear at
all. Then there is ele for ale and ail; finst, for finest, best; fresh,
for fresh, florid; greave, for grave; grease, for fat; groats, for groats;
harbor, for harbour; Harrys for Henrys; heasty, for hasty; hus, for us;
I'll, for I will; im for him; jawnt, for jaunt; keke, for cake; kin, for
kin; kindly, for healthy; limp, for halt; marvil, for marvel; mattock, for
mattock; mawkish, for mawkish; maw, for stomach; neamt, for named; breans,
for brains; breve, for brave; capable, for able; dey, for day; phippenny,
for five penny; reant, for rained; rearest, for rarest; reaving, for ravin;
riddle, for riddle, a sieve; and many other words which are either current
English, or present a difference in the spelling only, without a
difference in sound. None of these, nor many others of the same character,
will, I trust, be found in the present glossary.
A number of words which appear in Tim Bobbin's Glossary, have also been
rejected in consequence of doubts as to their ever having been in general
use in this eastern part of South Lancashire; amongst these are buck, or
buk, book; camp, to talk; campo, to prate; caper-cousins, great friends; cawfe-tail, a dunce; charger, platters, dishes;
chark, a crack; chez, chuse; clatch, a brood of chickens; dawntle, to fondle; deawmp, dumb;
deeave, to stun with noise; deeavely, lonely; dawd, dead, flat,
spiritless; dubler, a large dish; eendless-annat, the straight gut; far,
for; far-geh, forgive; fleak, to bask in the sun; glur, the softest of
fat; gry, an ague fit; hight-nor-ree, nothing at all of; im, him; infarm,
inform; jim, or gim, spruce, neat; kele, time, place, circumstance; keyke,
or kyke, to stand crooked; knattle, cross, ill humoured; lamm, to beat;
lod, a lad; musn, to think.
Note.
In 1738, John Kay, of Bury, by his invention of the fly shuttle, was the
first to break up the old mode of weaving by hand-throwing.
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