The Bell 1851-1859

The Bell 1851 - 1859

Monday markets; chaos, cattle and the Bell
Every Monday morning from an early hour, the noise and smell outside the Bell was far beyond modern sensibilities. Over 12,000 beasts packed into a medium-sized village whose population was rarely above 3,000, feeding London with meat.

A local resident recalls falling asleep on Sunday evenings to the 'plaintive music' of cattle lowing in the meadows surrounding the town. The occupants of the Bell heard that sound travelling from Hemingford Meadow. Many visitors arrived Sunday night, staying in inns and hostels, soon in a 'happy' state.

Early Monday morning, cattle filled the Bullock Market, packed wall to wall as shown in the photograph below from the late 1800s. In 1921, the Mayor recalled earlier days of cattle queuing along the Waits, up Ramsey Road, along the full length of St Audrey's Lane, and down into Pig Lane and Needingworth Road.

Bullock Market, c1880.

The air was thick with cursing as drovers tried to control the cattle. Many swear words would pass St Ivians by, such was the variety of accents. Irish, Welsh, and Scots mixed with West Country and Northern accents.

Some drovers treated their beasts cruelly. In 1835, a bullock took refuge in Mrs Robins's shop to escape abuse. Magistrates repeatedly fined drovers for mistreatment. Read Adams, the first Mayor of St Ives, wrote a letter in 1886 about the old Bullock Market. He sought to improve the lives of the cattle. Read wanted to lessen the cruel blows and brutal uproar. He wished the market was more like a place of business than a pandemonium.

Residents stepping out of the Bell needed to take care. The Bullock Market could be a dangerous place. Protective rails ran down either side to shield pedestrians and buildings. In 1801, a bullock rampaged through the Royal Oak pub, trampled up the stairs, crashed through the middle window frame and landed on the street. In 1858, infant Hector Rowell got caught on an escaped cow's horns but was rescued by his nursemaid.

The Backwater opposite the Bell was equally unpleasant. Dr Grove's 1873 annual report noted stagnant water, sewage, and 'a most unwholesome and poisonous gas'.

The first chimney sweep
When Daniel Winters took over the Bell, he began the first line of sweeps to occupy the premises. In 1841, he worked from Croft's Yard, off Crown Street with his son Daniel junior. In 1846, he accused William Bright of letting a boy under 20 climb a chimney, illegal under the law. Magistrates fined Bright lightly, later noting the difficulty of cleaning narrow chimneys.

Newspapers reported that Daniel himself employed under-aged children. The 1841 Census shows three sweep apprentices living with the family; Elizabeth Harris, 20, and brothers John and Thomas White, 15 and 12. Evidence suggests all three died within ten years.

By 1851, Daniel senior ran the Bell as publican and sweep. He employed his 10-year-old grandson Robert Wilkinson. Robert is an ancestor of comedian Joe Lycett and Robert's life story was told in a 2021 edition of the BBC programme Who DoYou Think You Are? Also present was Thomas Devine, a 40-year-old sweep from Jamaica,  dead within ten years. Daniel senior died in 1851, aged 61; Daniel junior in 1859, aged 48.

A dark and deadly trade

Tradition claims a chimney sweep brings luck, but the reality for young apprentices was  dark, dirty and deadly.

From the 1600s, domestic coal fires increased, while chimneys grew narrower to improve draught. Sticky soot lined the flues and harmful fumes could back up into homes. Some owners tried DIY solutions, such as dropping geese down the chimney, or dragging holly up using a rope. Regular visits from the sweep became a safety necessity.

For 200 years children cleaned narrow flues, sometimes only nine inches square. Apprentices shuffled upwards on back, elbows and knees, brushing soot that fell on them, then sliding down to collect the soot in bags for fertiliser. A sweep could clean five chimneys a day.

Poor families sold children into indentured servitude; workhouse orphans were common victims. Bound for seven years, apprentices got bed and board but no wages. Escape meant court and prison with hard labour. It was common for chimneys to be hot from the last fire. Fires were sometimes lit beneath them, giving rise to the term 'I'll light a fire under you'.

The work stunted and disfigured children, causing respiratory problems, injury or death. Many were crushed, jammed or suffocated in narrow chimneys. Mortality rates were high.

The end of child sweeps

Laws passed in 1840 and 1864 to prevent child abuse were ineffective, lacking enforcement. In 1863, Charles Kingsley's The Water-Babies, A Fairy Tale for a Land Baby told of a boy sweep enduring cruelty, raising public awareness

In February 1875, 12-year-old George Brewster became stuck up a Fulbourn Hospital chimney measuring 12 by 6 inches. Rescuers had to demolish a wall to free him. He died shortly after and his master was found guilty of manslaughter. George's death became the catalyst for reform.

By 1875, a new law banned the use of young children as chimney sweeps. George was the last child to die in a chimney. Around this time, inventions using brushes and canes to reach chimneys from the fireplace emerged, one of the methods still in use today. St Ives sweep Herbert Pratt used such equipment in the 1930s.

Herbert Pratt, a St Ives chimney sweep, c1930s.

To read more instalments about this house, click the Bell. To view stories of other interesting houses and their residents in St Ives in the style of David Olusoga's BBC television programme, click A House Through Time. To access more topics on the social history of St Ives, its resident and the surrounding area, click St Ives 100 Years Ago.