Perhaps it will not be out of place for me to introduce a few
recollections I have of several gentlemen who were about this time of my
life prominently before the public.
ABOUT OLD JOE FIRTH
I have heard Oastler speak of the tyranny of factory life in Keighley. I
remember hearing him speak at the "Non. Con." Chapel in Sun-street, when
Joe Firth, an old Keighleyite, rose from the gallery and began to address
the meeting. Mr Oastler invited Firth to the rostrum. He went and
delivered a vivid description of factory life. He was an illiterate man,
and spoke in his native dialect. His speech was so telling that it was
well reported, a column appearing in the _Leeds Weekly Times._ Firth was
fond of speaking of the way his speech was reported and dressed up so
that he really could not recognise his own words. Firth was afterwards
called to London to give evidence, and he saved enough money out of his
allowance to enable him to abandon hand wool-combing, and set up as a
hawker of tea and coffee. He never looked behind him after that, and,
being a great "spouter," he got onto the Keighley Local Board. He was one
of the opponents of the Baths and Washhouses Scheme, and, in fact, he
liked opposition in many things. He was a staunch teetotaller. He died
leaving some property.
TH' CROOKED LEGGED 'UNS O' KEIGHLEY
It was about this time that the people of Keighley got the by-name of
"th' crooked legged 'uns." It was not a mere local name, but became a
general stigmatic description of Keighley folks throughout the country.
The great agitator, the late Richard Oastler, was agitating for the Ten
Hours Bill at this time. Many of the young people of Keighley were then
"knock o' kneed" and otherwise deformed. This fact was represented to Mr
Oastler by the local poet, Abraham Wildman. The latter was interested in
the working folk, and had published some poems reflecting on their hard
life. Oastler took up the case of the children, twelve of whom with
crooked legs he had exhibited in the House of Commons. Wildman's poem,
descriptive of these poor young folk, was submitted to the Duke of
Wellington. His grace commended the poet, saying England would be in a
deplorable condition if this were to be a fair sample of the soldiers
that were to be sent from her factories. The term "crooked legged 'uns"
stuck to these specimens through life; and, in fact, some of them still
survive.
"WHITE SLAVERY"
Asked as to his recollections of early factory life, Bill said he
believed that parents took the children to work in the mills from the
very early morning till late at night; and in some cases they even
allowed them to work on Sunday. One manufacturer allowed the children to
work all night, but one father, who was accustomed to travelling away
from home, returned to Addingham, and found three of his children
undergoing this horrible white slavery. He went to the factory, demanded
his children, and assaulted the caretaker. The matter was brought to a
trial at Bingley, Oastler backing the father. The poor man was fined for
assault, but Captain Ferrand, who had been disgusted with factory
oppression, assisted in taking the case further. The upshot was that the
manufacturer was fined. Captain Ferrand's interest in the relief of the
poor was deep and abiding, and he did a great and mighty work in
connection with the factory laws. It was said at the time by the Radicals
that his work was dictated by political expediency rather than by pure
humane feelings. However, Bill is of opinion that the Radicals were
mistaken. The Captain was a stern disciplinarian, but, under a rough
exterior, Bill was sure there beat a warm heart for the weal of the poor,
and especially of pity for those confined so long in factories.
OASTLER ON FACTORY LIFE
In volume II of _Cobbett's Magazine_, there is an article on "Doctrinaire
Government and the factory system," and a quotation is made from a speech
by Oastler, asserting that "the factory system has caused a great deal of
the distress and immorality of the time, and a great deal of the weakness
of men's constitutions." Oastler said he would not present fiction to
them, but tell them what he himself had seen. "Take," he said, "a little
child. She shall rise from her bed at four in the morning of a cold
winter's day--before that time she awakes perhaps half-a-dozen times, and
says, 'Father, is it time--father, is it time?' When she gets up she
feels about her for her little bits of rags, her clothes, and puts them
on her weary limbs and trudges on to the mill, through rain or snow, one
or two miles, and there she works from thirteen to eighteen hours, with
only thirty minutes' interval. Homewards again at night she would go when
she was able, but many a time she hid herself in the wool in the mill,
not being able to reach home; at last she sunk under these cruelties into
the grave." Mr Oastler said he could bring hundreds of instances of this
kind, with this difference, that they worked 15 instead of 18 hours.
This was delivered a few years before Bill was born, but it held good in
some cases, he was sure, in his early boyhood. There were then some
cotton mills in Keighley district, and the young were allowed to submit
to toil which was far too exhausting to allow of nature battling for the
support of the human frame. Hence, Bill's own description of the poor
little factory girl is an apt corroboration:--
They are up in the morning reight early,
They are sometimes afore leet;
Ah hear ther clogs they are clamping,
As t'little things go dahn the street.
They are off in the morning reight early,
With ther basket o' jock on ther arm;
The bell is ting-tonging, ting-tonging,
As they enter the mill in a swarm.
They are skapering backward and forward,
Ther ends to keep up if they can;
They are doing ther utmost endeavours,
For fear o' the frown o' man.
. . . . .
And naw from her ten hours' labour,
Back to her cottage she shogs:
Ah hear by the tramping and singing,
'Tis the factory girl in her clogs.
An' at night, when she's folded i' slumber,
She's dreaming o' noises an' drawls;--
Of all human toil under-rated,
'Tis our poor little factory girl.
THE LATE REV. W. BUSFIELD
I may add that the late Rev W. Busfield, rector of Keighley, was a
staunch supporter of the Ten Hours Bill, when it had not many friends
among the political Liberals, and when Cobden and Bright opposed it
stoutly on Political Economy pleas. The rector supported Lord Ashley, Mr
Ferrand, and Mr Oastler, and he lived to see the result of the advocacy
of his friends.
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LATE MR BUSFEILD FERRAND
The late Mr Busfeild Ferrand was a typical English squire. In life he was
the owner of the St. Ives' estate at Bingley. He sprang from an
aristocratic family, who had ever been loyal to monarchy and country.
Trained as a lawyer, he, however, like many other English gentlemen, did
not follow his profession for gain or popularity. This training served
him well in public life, and augmented the many sterling qualities of his
character and his utility in the unpaid public service. He was a soldier,
a civil administrator, an ardent and exceedingly able politician--Tory,
of course, to the back-bone. He was a leading advocate for the "Ten Hours
Bill." The champions of that great movement were Fielding, Ferrand, and
Oastler. Mr Ferrand was instrumental in passing the Truck Act, which did
so much service to working men, in removing the deceptions and
impositions of indirect payment of wages. He was a great advocate of
allotments for working men, and set the first example to the wealthy and
willing to provide the people with ground for healthy open-air
recreation. As an agriculturist he was an enthusiast, and all who had
tenancy of land under him found all well so long as they observed
strictly the conditions of their tenancy, but woe to them and to all
concerned if they infringed in the slightest degree the iron rule of
discipline set down by Mr Ferrand. In every capacity of life, he was a
disciplinarian who could not brook any breach of rule. Poaching, and
every offence that interfered with the rights of the preserves on his
estate, called forth prosecution for the offence. My first recollection
of Mr Ferrand dates from the general election when this part of the
country was contested by Messrs Morpeth and Milton. I was about eight
years old at the time. The two politicians visited every part of the
district, and on one occasion the Tory party came through Hoylus End. I,
and my "mates" were wearing party favours; but they were all "yellow,"
while I was "blue." Mr Ferrand was with the electioneers, and he must
have noticed that I was the most conspicuous Tory youngster; for he drew
from his pocket a big handful of coppers and threw them down to me. From
that day, I can say, I have been a Tory. During the campaign the local
rhymesters and writers were very busy concocting electioneering "squibs;"
and, young as I was, I tried my 'prentice hand along with the rest. It
was with astonishment and amazement that my parents and my companions
received the following doggerel:--
Morpeth and Milton went a baking pies,
Milton gave to Morpeth two black eyes.
THE KEIGHLEY RIOT
About the year 1852--at the time of the Keighley Fair--there was some
poaching in Bingley Wood. A gamekeeper had come across the poachers, who
seized and tied him to a tree; suspicion fell upon some factory workers,
and they were taken before the court at Keighley. Mr Ferrand was in the
court, but took no part in the judicial consideration of the case, which
lasted nearly the whole of the afternoon. A barrister, who resided at
Settle, was for the defence. It proved a case of wrong identity, and the
prosecution was dismissed. The real poachers had escaped, some from the
country. A rowdy element excited the people against Mr Ferrand, and they
even went so far as to create a riot, aiming their missiles in the street
at Mr Ferrand. It was a case of one brave man and a mob. At last, after
pursuing his way fearlessly of their missiles, he was blocked, and had to
read the Riot Act at premises now used by Messrs Laycock & Sons,
curriers. The police-constables were of no avail against the mob, and
soldiers were procured from Bradford. The roughs found the soldiers
unwelcome visitors on the scene, and the streets were soon cleared. No
prisoners were made. Capt. Ferrand took part in leading the soldiers, and
those who were so valiant before were now no longer to be seen defiant;
they had fled. Mr John Garnett, school-master, wrote some lines on the
affair, called "The Baron's Revenge."
A CHANGE OF LIFE
Begging pardon for this digression, and returning to recollections of my
own life, I may say that a longing had now come over me for a quiet term
of life, and I accordingly settled down at home. Work was once more found
for me at Messrs Lund's mill; indeed, I have often since thought that the
late Mr William Lund must have stipulated in his will that work was at
all times to be found for me. Off and on, I must have worked at North
Beck Mills some score times, and each time there was a sort of welcome
reception for me. Perhaps my father's life-long connection with the firm
had something to do with it. Be that as it may, I settled down,
determined to make an entire alteration in my course of life. A visit
paid to William Sugden, and I was possessed, I thought, of one of the
grandest suits of clothes there ever was.
JOINING THE SUNDAY SCHOOL
Then my parents had a talk with me as to joining the Sunday school, and,
after some hesitation, I connected myself with the Wesleyan Sunday school
at Exley Head. Mr Edward Pickles, manufacturer, Holme Mill (now living, I
believe, at Bradford), was the superintendent of the school, and other of
the officers were Mr John Dinsdale, who had the distinction of being a
local preacher, and the late Mr Thomas Bottomley, of Braithwaite. For
some six months I attended the school with the regularity of the Prince
Smith Clock, and was not absent a single Sunday. Fellow scholars of mine
were, William Scott, Hannah Holmes (afterwards married to a missionary,
named Kaberry, with whom she went to Africa), Midgley Hardacre, Thomas
Binns, John Pearson, and James Smith, locally known as "Jim o' Aaron's,"
who met his death by falling down a lime kiln. Sunday school work
interested me greatly, and it was with much "happiness at heart" that I
looked forward to Sunday. I was not long a scholar ere I was made a
teacher. Possessed as I was of what I may call a "theatrical" voice,
acquired during my career on the stage, the people liked to hear me read,
and I was kept fully occupied in reading chapters from the Bible. Yes;
the time I spent at the Sunday school was a very happy one.
LED ASTRAY BY POLITICS
But, unfortunately, a few of my companions got me to bother my head with
local politics. There was a Local Board election approaching at Keighley,
and some new-made acquaintances led me, as it were, to contract the
prevailing political fever; and, as events turned, it was not meet that I
should do so. My sinning friends were Bill Spink, better known as "Old
Bung;" "Porky Bill," Jonas Moore, and others. I struggled hard for the
particular party which I favoured, writing "squibs" and all kinds of
doggerel, until I became literally saturated with politics. In the
meantime I had continued my attendance at the Sunday School, though my
duties were entered into with less zest and enjoyment than formerly. I
well remember Mr Pickles, the superintendent, saying he had no doubt I
should be a great man some time. But the insinuating influences of
certain companions acquired during my political career soon told upon me;
the old saw says "Show me your comrades and I will tell you who you are."
I got associated with people older than myself, many of them wool-combers
from Bradford and other places--men who had seen the world in all its
dodgy and dark ways, and who knew how to take advantage of people who
hadn't. I had plenty of money, and I found plenty of friends to help me
to spend it. I began a retrograde movement, finally severing my
connection with the Sunday school, a step which gave my parents great
uneasiness. I attribute my falling off entirely to the bad companionship
into which I was led. They were too "old" for me, and I was rather too
"soft" for them. Many were the scrapes into which they brought me, and it
was in consequence of one of these that I and a female companion whose
acquaintance I had made started one morning on the tramp for
Middlesborough.