the fact that lock-making ranks among the notoriously ill-paid
industries. One is the familiar exaggeration that if a Willenhall
locksmith happens to let fall the lock he is making, he never stoops to
pick up because he can make another in less time.
The other is the hackneyed anecdote of the late G. B. Thorneycroft, who
was once taunted with the sneer that some padlocks of local manufacture
would only lock once; and who promptly retorted that as they had been
bought at twopence each, it would be "a shame if they did lock twice" at
such starvation prices of production. But Willenhall's contributions to
the hardware production of the Black Country are by no means limited to
this endless variety of locks, some for doors and gates, some for carpet
bags and travelling trunks, some for writing portfolios and jewel
caskets; but extends to lock furniture and door furniture, latches, door
bolts, hasps and keys, hooks and steel vermin traps, grid-irons and
box-iron stands, files and wood-screws, ferrules and iron-tips for
Lancashire clogs; and other small oddments of the hardware trade.
The making of currycombs, though shrunk to somewhat insignificant
proportions within the last quarter of a century, was once a very
prominent industry in Willenhall. In 1815 James Carpenter, whose name is
now so prominent in the lock trade, took out a patent, which was
registered as follows:--
No. 3956--23rd August, 1815.--James Carpenter, of Willenhall, curry
comb maker. "Improvements to a curry comb, by inverting the handle
over the back of the comb, and thus rendering the pressure, when in
use, more equal."
Another typical industry was the making of door-bolts, now represented by
the firms of Joseph Tipper, and Jonah Banks and Sons. It is interesting
to note that among the last of the old trade tokens circulating in this
locality, were the Willenhall farthings issued by Austin, a miller,
baker, and grocer, who carried on business at the corner of Stafford
Street (the same now conducted by Joshua Rushbrooke); the obverse of this
coin bore as a design characteristic of the town a padlock, a currycomb,
and a door-bolt, with the legend, "Let Willenhall flourish," and the date
1844.
[Picture: Willenhall coin]
The Currycomb manufacture is now represented by D. Ferguson, and by W. H.
Tildesley, the latter adding to it the making of steel traps.
But whatever loss has been incurred by the shrinkage of this industry has
been more than made up by the enormous growth of the trade in
stampings--keys are stamped--and in malleable castings.
The earliest Willenhall patent was taken out in this branch of trade, and
thus specified: "No. 3,800. 7th April, 1814. Isaac Mason, Willenhall,
tea tray maker. Making stamped front for register stoves and other
stoves, fenders, tea trays, and other trays, mouldings, and other
articles, in brass and other metals."
In the stamping trades at the present time are Messrs. Armstrong, Stevens
and Co., Vaughan Brothers, Alexander Lloyd and Sons, Baxter, Vaughan, and
Co., and J. B. Brooks and Co. At the works of Messrs. John Harper and
Co., by far the largest in the town, a variety of hardware articles are
produced, besides locks, but the bulk of their trade is in the production
of castings, especially in the form of gas and oil stoves and lamps. New
developments continue to bring in fresh industries.
[Picture: Decorative design]
XXVIII.--Willenhall in Fiction.
A vivid picture of the social and industrial conditions which formerly
prevailed in this locality has been drawn by the masterly pen of
Disraeli, who evidently studied this side of the Black Country at close
quarters. It occurs in his novel, "Sybil," the time of action being
about 1837.
The distinguished novelist discovered the well-known fact that many of
the common people hereabout were ignorant of their own names, and that if
they knew them few indeed were able to spell them. Of nicknames, which
were then not merely prevalent, but practically universal, he gives us
such choice examples as Devilsdust, Chatting Jack, and Dandy Mick; while
in "Shuttle and Screw's Mill," and the firm of "Truck and Trett," we
recognise names significant of the methods of employment then in vogue.
But worse perhaps than the "truck system" of paying wages in kind instead
of in coin, was the prevailing system of utilising an inordinate number
of apprentices; and as these were almost invariably "parish apprentices,"
the output of the local workhouses, the tendency was not only to lower
the rate of wages, but to lower the morale of the people.
How this tendency worked out in everyday life is best seen in the
following extract from "Sybil." Under the fictional name "Wemsbury" may
perhaps be read Wednesbury; "Hell House Yard" is evidently meant for Hell
Lane, near Sedgley; and as to "Wodgate," there can be no doubt about its
interpretation as Wednesfield. This is Disraeli's description of life
here seventy years ago, no doubt viewed as it was approached from the
Wolverhampton side:--
Wodgate, or Wogate, as it was called on the map, was a district that
in old days had been consecrated to Woden, and which appeared
destined through successive ages to retain its heathen character.
At the beginning of the revolutionary war Wodgate was a sort of
squatting district of the great mining region to which it was
contiguous, a place where adventurers in the industry which was
rapidly developed settled themselves; for though the great veins of
coal and ironstone cropped up, as they phrase it, before they reached
this bare and barren land, and it was thus deficient in those mineral
and metallic treasures which had enriched its neighbourhood, Wodgate
had advantages of its own, and of a kind which touch the fancy of the
lawless.
It was land without an owner; no one claimed any manorial right over
it; they could build cottages without paying rent. It was a district
recognised by no parish; so there were no tithes and no meddlesome
supervision. It abounded in fuel which cost nothing, for though the
veins were not worth working as a source of mining profit, the soil
of Wodgate was similar in its superficial character to that of the
country around.
So a population gathered, and rapidly increased in the ugliest spot
in England, to which neither Nature nor art had contributed a single
charm; where a tree could not be seen, a flower was unknown, where
there was neither belfry nor steeple, nor a single sight or sound
that could soften the heart or humanize the mind.
Whatever may have been the cause, whether, as not unlikely, the
original squatters brought with them some traditionary skill, or
whether their isolated and unchequered existence concentrated their
energies on their craft, the fact is certain, that the inhabitants of
Wodgate early acquired a celebrity as skilful workmen.
This reputation so much increased, and in time spread so far, that,
for more than a quarter of a century, both in their skill and the
economy of their labour, they have been unmatched throughout the
country.
As manufacturers of ironmongery they carry the palm from the whole
district; as founders of brass and workers of steel they fear none;
while as nailers and locksmiths, their fame has spread even to the
European markets whither their most skilful workmen have frequently
been invited.
Invited in vain! No wages can tempt the Wodgate man from his native
home, that squatters' seat which soon assumed the form of a large
village, and then in turn soon expanded into a town, and at the
present moment numbers its population by swarming thousands, lodged
in the most miserable tenements, in the most hideous burgh, in the
ugliest country in the world.
But it has its enduring spell. Notwithstanding the spread of its
civic prosperity, it has lost none of the characteristics of its
original society; on the contrary, it has zealously preserved them.
There are no landlords, head-lessees, main-masters, or butties in
Wodgate.
[Picture: George Borrow]
No church there has yet raised its spire; and, as if the jealous
spirit of Woden still haunted his ancient temple, even the
conventicle scarcely dare show his humble front in some obscure
corner. There is no municipality, no magistrate; there are no local
acts, no vestries, no schools of any kind. The streets are never
cleaned; every man lights his own house; nor does any one know
anything except his business.
[Picture: Borrow's Birthplace]
More than this, at Wodgate, a factory or large establishment of any
kind is unknown. Here Labour reigns supreme. Its division, indeed,
is favoured by their manners, but the interference or influence of
mere capital is instantly resisted.
The business of Wodgate is carried on by master workmen in their own
houses, each of whom possess an unlimited number of what they call
apprentices, by whom their affairs are principally conducted, and
whom they treat as the Mamlouks treated the Egyptians.
These master workmen indeed form a powerful aristocracy, nor is it
possible to conceive one apparently more oppressive. They are
ruthless tyrants; they habitually inflict upon their subjects
punishments more grievous than the slave population of our colonies
were ever visited with; not content with beating them with sticks, or
flogging them with knotted ropes, they are in the habit of felling
them with, or cutting their heads open with a file or lock.
The most usual punishment, however, or rather stimulus to increase
exertion, is to pull an apprentice's ears till they run with blood.
These youths, too, are worked for sixteen or even twenty hours a day;
they are often sold by one master to another; they are fed on
carrion, and they sleep in lofts or cellars.
Yet, whether it be that they are hardened by brutality, and really
unconscious of their degradation and unusual sufferings, or whether
they are supported by the belief that their day to be masters and
oppressors will surely arrive, the aristocracy of Wodgate is by no
means so unpopular as the aristocracy of most other places.
In the first place, it is a real aristocracy; it is privileged, but
it does something for its privileges. It is distinguished from the
main body, not merely by name. It is the most knowing class at
Wodgate; it possesses, in deed, in its way, complete knowledge; and
it imparts in its manner a certain quantity of it to those whom it
guides.
Thus it is an aristocracy that leads, and therefore a fact.
Moreover, the social system of Wodgate is not an unvarying course of
infinite toil. Their plan is to work hard, but not always. They
seldom exceed four days of labour in the week. On Sunday the masters
begin to drink; for the apprentices there is dog-fighting without any
stint.
On Monday and Tuesday the whole population of Wodgate is drunk; of
all stations, ages, and sexes, even babes who should be at the
breast, for they are drammed with Godfrey's cordial. Here is
relaxation, excitement; if less vice otherwise than might be at first
anticipated, we must remember that excesses are checked by poverty of
blood and constant exhaustion. Scanty food and hard labour are in
their way, if not exactly moralists, a tolerably good police.
There are no others at Wodgate to preach or to control. It is not
that the people are immoral, for immorality implies some forethought;
or ignorant, for ignorance is relative; but they are animals,
unconscious, their minds a blank, and their worst actions only the
impulse of a gross or savage instinct. There are many in this town
who are ignorant of their very names; very few who can spell them.
It is rare that you meet with a young person who knows his own age;
rarer to find the boy who has seen a book, or the girl who has seen a
flower. Ask them the name of their Sovereign, and they will give you
an unmeaning stare; ask them the name of their religion, and they
will laugh; who rules them on earth, or who can save them in Heaven,
are alike mysteries to them.
Such was the population with whom Morley was about to mingle.
Wodgate had the appearance of a vast squalid suburb. As you
advanced, leaving behind you long lines of little dingy tenements,
with infants lying about the road, you expected every moment to
emerge into some streets, and encounter buildings bearing some
correspondence, in their size and comfort, to the considerable
population swarming and busied around you.
Nothing of the kind. There were no public buildings of any sort; no
churches, chapels, town hall, institute, theatre; and the principal
streets in the heart of the town in which were situate the coarse and
grimy shops, though formed by houses of a greater elevation than the
preceding, were equally narrow, and, if possible, more dirty.
At every fourth or fifth house, alleys, seldom above a yard wide, and
streaming with filth, opened out of the street. These were crowded
with dwellings of various size, while from the principal court often
branched out a number of smaller alleys, or rather narrow passages,
than which nothing can be conceived more close and squalid and
obscure.
Here, during the days of business, the sound of the hammer and the
file never ceased, amid gutters of abomination, and piles of
foulness; and stagnant pools of filth, reservoirs of leprosy and
plague, whose exhalations were sufficient to taint the atmosphere of
the whole kingdom, and fill the country with fever and pestilence.
Such were the conditions of life in Willenhall, at least from the
industrial side; for Willenhall and Wednesfield were at that time almost
identical in their industrial, social, and municipal economics. The
novelist is, of course, incorrect in saying Wednesfield had no church; as
we have seen in Chapter XXIII. it had possessed a small church or chapel
since 1746.
Another novelist who has dealt with the same theme is Louis Becke. The
hero of his tale, entitled "Old Convict Days" (published by T. Fisher
Unwin), is a runaway apprentice from Darlaston; and Willenhall is alluded
to in this work as "Wilnon." Spirited descriptions are given of regular
set fights between the apprentices of the two towns, which took place on
the canal bridge that divided their respective territories near Bug Hole,
and in the course of which drownings have not been unknown to occur.
Allusions are also made to the dog-fighting, human rat worrying, and
other brutal sports with which the populace of these two places were wont
to amuse themselves; and particularly to the haunted Red Barn in which a
murder had been committed.
Willenhall can lay a further claim to classic ground in the realm of
fiction, though the exact spot has not yet been satisfactorily
identified. It is the place called Mumper's Dingle, in the works of
George Borrow, the gipsy traveller and linguist, or as he calls himself
in the Romany dialect, Lavengro, the "Word-Master."
The word "mumper" signifies a tramp or roving beggar; but its slight
likeness to the name Monmer has led certain local enthusiasts to identify
Mumpers' Dingle with Monmer Lane. Wherever this particular gipsies'
dingle may have been, it was certainly on the Essington side of
Willenhall, though scarcely five miles out; in fact, the public-house
mentioned in the narrative ("Lavengro," chapter 89) is generally
understood to be the Bull's Head Inn, Wolverhampton Street, which is
definitely stated to be two miles from Mumpers' Dingle. It must have
been a secluded and romantic spot about the year 1820, and quite a
fitting scene for that interesting episode of the gipsy life described as
being led there by the unconventional Lavengro, in Platonic association
with a strapping Gitano wench named Isopel Berners.
Since George Borrow has come to be recognised as a writer fitting to rank
among our standard English authors, quite a Borrovian cult has grown up,
which has naturally enough fortified itself by a literature of its own.
Our first extracts are the great writer's own description of the place.
("Isopel Berners," by George Borrow.)
The Dingle is a deep, wooded, and, consequently, somewhat gloomy
hollow in the middle of a very large, desolate field. The shelving
sides of the hollow are overgrown with trees and bushes. A belt of
sallows crowns the circular edge of the small crater. At the lowest
part of the Dingle are discovered a stone and a fire of charcoal,
from which spot a winding path ascends to "the plain." On either
side of the fire is a small encampment. One consists of a small pony
cart and a small hut-shaped tent, occupied by the Word-Master, on the
other side is erected a kind of tent, consisting of large hoops
covered over with tarpaulin, quite impenetrable to rain; hard by
stands a small donkey cart. This is "the tabernacle" of Isopel
Berners. A short distance off, near a spring of clear water, is the
encampment of the Romany chals and chies--the Petulengres and their
small clan.
The place is above five miles from Willenhall, in Staffordshire.
The time is July, 1825.
Our concluding quotation is taken from the "Life, Writings, and
Correspondence of George Borrow," by William J. Knapp (published in
1899).
1825.
On the 21st, he departs with his itinerant hosts towards the old
Welsh border--Montgomery. Turns back with Ambrose Petulengro.
Settles in Mumber Lane, Staffordshire, near Willenhall. My informant
of Dudley caused it to be found, and wrote as follows:--
"'Mumpers' Dingle' still exists in the neighbourhood of Willenhall,
though it does not seem to be well known, as a native had to make
inquiries about it. Willenhall itself is one of the most
forlorn-looking places in the Black Country, ranking second to
Darlaston, I should think."
[Picture: Decorative design]
XXIX.--Bibliography.
From the merely allusive in literature, we proceed to the bibliography of
Willenhall, which, though not extensive, is of fair average interest.
Recently (June, 1907) was put up for auction in London a First Folio
Shakespeare of some local interest. It was the property of Mr. Abel
Buckley, Ryecroft Hall, near Manchester. This folio appears to have been
purchased about 1660 by Colonel John Lane, of Bentley Hall, Staffs, the
protector of Charles II. after the Battle of Worcester. It remained in
the possession of the family till 1856, when, at the dispersal of the
library of Colonel John Lane, of King's Bromley, whose book-plate,
designed by Hogarth, is inserted, it was bought by the third Earl of
Gosford for 157 guineas.
The son of the third Earl of Gosford disposed of it to James Toovey, the
famous London bookseller, for 470 pounds in 1884; and soon afterwards Mr.
Buckley obtained the folio. It measures 12.875in. by 8.25in., is
throughout clean, but the fly-leaf and title are mounted and two leaves
repaired. This is the volume's interesting history, according to Mr.
Sidney Lee.
In 1795, Stephen Chatterton, a Willenhall schoolmaster, published a book
of poems of a humorous cast. One is "An epistle to my friend Mr. Thomas
S--, who was married in July, 1783, to his third wife, on his fiftieth
birthday."
The bibliography of the Rev. Samuel Cozens, at one time minister of the
Peculiar Baptists' Chapel at Little London, Willenhall, is rather
extensive if not very interesting. A full list of his pamphlets and
other works will be found in G. T. Lawley's "Bibliography of
Wolverhampton," and also in Simms' "Bibliotheca Staffordiensis." His
first work, which appeared in the "Gospel Standard," 1844, was "A short
account of the Lord's Gracious Dealings with One of the Elect Vessels of
Mercy," and is autobiographical.
From this title, and that of the second part of his life, which appeared
in 1857, "Reminiscences: or Footsteps of Providence," the attitude of
mind assumed by the writer may be easily guessed. His was a dogmatic
creed, of stern unyielding Calvinism, which left him always
self-satisfied, and often made him aggressive. He moved from
Wolverhampton to Willenhall in 1848, where his first book was written, a
scholarly volume in the form of "A Biblical Lexicon."
Presently his combative nature found expression in a controversial
pamphlet attacking the Primitive Methodists, "John Wesley, the Papa of
British Rome, and Philip Pugh, the modern Pelagius, weighed in the
Balance of Eternal Truth and found wanting" (Willenhall, printed and
published by W. H. Hughes, 1852). The Rev. Philip Pugh was located at
Darlaston, and made a gallant defence on behalf of his co-religionists;
the Primitive Methodists of Willenhall acknowledging these services by
presenting him with a handsome testimonial. The pamphlets containing his
rejoinders bear the imprint of Stephen Hackett, Willenhall. Mr. Cozens
died in Tasmania some years later.
The "Memoirs of G. B. Thorneycroft," written by the Rev. J. B. Owen, and
published (Wolverhampton: T. Simpson) in 1856, contain local allusions of
minor interest. The subject of the memoir was the well-known South
Staffordshire ironmaster, who in the earlier part of his commercial
career had some works near the Waterglade, on the Bilston Road.
George Benjamin Thorneycroft, was born August 20th, 1791, at Tipton,
where his grandfather kept the Three Furnaces Inn. His biographer claims
his descent from the Thornicrofts of Cheshire. In his youth he was
employed at Kirkstall Forge, near Leeds, returning to Staffordshire in
1809 to work at the Moorcroft Ironworks at Bradley, near Bilston, where,
by his skill and industry he ultimately rose to the management.
It was in 1817 he founded a small ironwork at Willenhall, and seven years
later joined his twin brother, Edward Thorneycroft, in establishing the
Shrubbery Ironworks at Wolverhampton. The rise of the railways at that
period, and the consequent larger demands for iron and steel, were among
the causes which led to his great prosperity as an ironmaster.
His Willenhall residence was on the site now occupied by the Metropolitan
Bank, in the Market Place: while his works, this first this iron magnate
owned, were located near what is now known as Forge Yard, Waterglade
Street. It was in this house his son, Colonel Thorneycroft, of
Tettenhall Towers, was born.
[Picture: Neptune Inn]
His prominence as a public man may be estimated by the fact that when
Wolverhampton was incorporated in 1848, Mr. Thorneycroft was selected for
the honour of being first Mayor of the new borough. He was at all times
a generous supporter of every local charity and benevolent institution,
till the old quotation came to be fitted to him:--
There was a man--the neighbours thought him mad--
The more he gave away, the more he had.
In the Town Hall of Wolverhampton a statue has been set up to commemorate
the public work of this estimable character.
[Picture: Bell Inn]
Although during the greater portion of his career a great supporter of
the State Church, in earlier life Mr. G. B. Thorneycroft had been an
ardent Wesleyan; and in his memoirs (p. 134) it is recorded how he
liquidated the burden of debt on the Willenhall Chapel belonging to that
denomination. On his death, in 1851, among those who testified to his
public usefulness, and the estimation in which he was held, was the Rev.
G. H. Fisher, of Willenhall (memoirs pp. 263-5).
[Picture: Old Bull's Head]
"The Willenhall Magazine" was the name of a monthly periodical launched
in 1862, "published for the proprietors by J. Loxton, Market Place,
Willenhall," and having Messrs. J. C. and Jesse Tildesley as its chief
contributors. The first number appeared in March, and twelve months
afterwards this praiseworthy attempt to establish a local magazine in
Willenhall had completely failed.
[Picture: The Plough]
In 1866 appeared a religious novel written by a Primitive Methodist
preacher of this town, and published by Elliot Stock, London. It: was
entitled "Nest: A Tale of the Early British Christians," by the Rev. J.
Boxer, Willenhall. Mr. G. T. Lawley describes it as a well-written story
dealing with the pagan persecution of the early British Christians by
their Saxon conquerors.
A story of direct local interest was Mr. G. T. Lawley's work "The
Locksmith's Apprentice; a Tale of Old Willenhall," published serially
some years ago in the columns of a Wolverhampton weekly newspaper.