History is not always fair to the working classes, who have often been written about and judged through a lens of officialdom and the middle and upper classes. The so-called match girls of the 19th century also had their public image influenced by Hans Christian Andersen’s 1845 story ‘The Little Match Girl’. In reality, females who made matches and matchboxes were a mixture of girls and women. Like Andersen’s fictional character, they did live a hard life, but unlike her they typically had family and neighbourly networks to rely on. Many were Irish or of Irish heritage.

Quakers William Bryant and Francis May went into partnership in 1843 with a grocery shop in Tooley Street, London. A few years later they decided to import matches from Sweden to sell in the shop. This part of the business became so successful that in 1861 they formed the Bryant and May company to manufacture matches. A factory was built in Bow, East London, on the site of an old candle factory.

There was a large demand for matches which provided a convenient way to light fires, candles, smoking pipes etc. Thanks to this the company grew, over time making acquisitions and becoming a major exporter. Its economic importance, and having establishment figures who were shareholders (including a few MPs), gave it political influence. Initially the company treated workers relatively well; however, that appeared to change when May was sidelined and Bryant’s sons were brought into the firm. Wilberforce Bryant took over management of the company when his father died in 1874.

The company originally planned to make safety matches using red phosphorous which could only be lit on a special strip on the matchbox. Public demand for the convenience of lucifer matches, which could be struck on many surfaces, remained, so the company made them too.

Matches were produced at the factory while matchboxes were mostly made by outworkers at home who were not covered by the Factory Acts. Outworkers, who had to provide their own glue and brushes to make the matchboxes, needed space within their small homes to dry them, so children were often forced to play outside while drying took place. The self-employment of being an outworker gave those women flexibility to do other work when demand for matches fell in the summer.

Fruit-picking in Kent was a typical summer job. Living conditions in the countryside were little better, yet some women enjoyed the change. For people of limited financial means whose lives usually revolved around a small crowded area of London, it was the nearest thing to a holiday they’d experience.

Match workers in the factory had the benefit of a regular, if meagre, wage achieved by working up to 14 hours a day. The company used fines to reduce wages. Foremen could be particularly tough on the workers who could be fined for lateness, talking or having dirty feet – being barefoot was not uncommon among the poor, who struggled to fund the cost of shoes.

Dangers and health risks
Another threat to wages was if a match accidentally ignited during production – a not uncommon occurrence. This gave the company another excuse to dock wages since workers were fined for any ‘burnts’ in their work area.

Making lucifer matches had a health risk from the toxic chemical white phosphorous. Phosphorous vapour could cause necrosis of the jaw, commonly referred to as phossy jaw. First diagnosed in 1839 by a physician in Vienna, the most severe cases led to disfigurement with the jawbone exposed, and ultimately a painful death. A few countries banned the chemical from use in matchmaking in the late 1800s, but this didn’t happen in Britain until the end of 1910.

Dippers were particularly at risk of contracting phossy jaw. Their job was to dip matchsticks in the phosphorous solution to form the match head. This work wasn’t confined to women, as many men worked in the factory and dipping was done predominantly by them. Fumes affected other workers in the proximity, including women. Compounding the risk, workers didn’t have a separate room for eating their lunch, which had to be taken at their work area.

Bryant and May knew of the health risks, but according to contemporary claims the company tried to cover up cases occurring in the factory. The state of a person’s dental health affected their chance of getting phossy jaw since particles from the chemical could enter the body through holes in the teeth. A company dentist stated that older women workers had the worst teeth. Workers knew that they’d be instantly dismissed if a foreman discovered they had toothache, so they would try to conceal any symptoms of it.

The strike
In early July 1888 the so-called match girls’ strike began in response to the sacking of a female worker. The socialist activist Annie Besant was thought to have played a major role in orchestrating the strikes. This narrative suited Bryant and May, and newspapers, to blame outside influences for stirring up trouble. In reality the strike was driven by the workers themselves, although they did seek advice and help from Besant. The company had a list of who they believed were the strike ringleaders: Alice Francis, Kate Slater, Mary Driscoll, Jane Wakeling and Eliza Martin.

Despite the company’s offer to reinstate the sacked woman, the strike continued because of other demands. Over a thousand women walked out and large numbers of police were drafted in to control the strikers who, according to a newspaper report of the time, ‘paraded the streets in the neighbourhood of Bow’. By 17 July the strikers’ demands were agreed to by the company, match production having been severely impacted.

All workers were to be taken back. Various fines and deductions applied previously were to be abolished and, crucially, a room was to be provided for taking meals. That would reduce the health risk from white phosphorous. Girls had previously carried quantities of matchboxes around the factory on their heads, a practice which often caused hair loss. Instead, barrows were to be supplied by the company from then on.

Working conditions and pay were somewhat improved as a result of the strike. Then an unexpected threat to the female workers arose in October 1888 in a letter from someone claiming to be ‘John Ripper’. Since August of that year several women had been brutally murdered by Jack the Ripper in the East End, causing fear in the public. The letter’s author threatened to pay a visit to the women and attack them. It’s likely the letter was a hoax since none of the match women were victims of the Ripper.

Bryant and May stopped using white phosphorous at the end of the century. Financial reasons rather than worker welfare drove this decision, which meant they could dispense with company dentistry and other restrictions from using the chemical. In November 1899 they negotiated the right to a patent for a non-toxic type of phosphorous which they could use in countries other than France and Russia.

Historian Edward Palmer Thompson wrote about the ‘enormous condescension of posterity’. The match makers, despite their downtrodden position in society, were not helpless waifs like Andersen’s little match girl. They often had strong family and social connections,

and exhibited strength and determination in standing up to a powerful employer to improve their working conditions.