Adventures and Recollections Part 15

It was on Shrove-Tuesday in the year 1862 (I think this is the number of the year; unfortunately I did not keep a diary, and I have nothing but my memory to go by) that I accompanied the late Mr Charles Bradlaugh, M.P., on a Secularist lecturing excursion to Sutton and Silsden. At Sutton Mr Bradlaugh was well received by the Radicals of the village, who invited him into a room, where they entertained him to some refreshment. Mr Bradlaugh "pitched" in front of the Bay Horse Inn, speaking from a chair which I had borrowed from the landlady of the inn. The subject of Mr Bradlaugh's lecture was "More pork and less prayer: more bacon and fewer priests;" and I must confess that he dug his javelin with some vigour into the parsons. The audience was for the most part composed of old men and old women, who seemed delighted with the lecture, especially with the thrusts at the "religious gentlemen." One of the old women exclaimed that they could do with some more bacon if they could get it, and fewer parsons. There were, said she, quite plenty of parsons, there being two of them in that district. At the close of the lecture I went round with my cap, and collected a few s.h.i.+llings. Mr Bradlaugh then went down to Silsden, and in the evening lectured on the same subject in the Oddfellows' Hall, which was crowded at a penny admission fee. Leaving Silsden, we walked to Keighley-the railway not having yet been laid up the valley. On the way I had many interesting bits of conversation with the man who later in life was to create such a stir in the world-the man who was first errand boy, then coal dealer, Sunday school teacher, free-thought lecturer, soldier, solicitor's clerk, and, finally, Member of Parliament. The conversation ran mostly upon soldiering, Mr Bradlaugh telling me that he had served for three years in the Dragoon Guards, chiefly in Ireland. General Garibaldi also occupied a good part of our talk. Mr Bradlaugh expressed great interest in the Italian patriot, and said he intended to join the foreign legion which was being formed in London to a.s.sist Garibaldi's army and help him in his struggles. He strongly pressed me to take a trip to sunny Italy for the same object, and recited some verses which he had composed on Garibaldi. Mr Bradlaugh dwelt very little indeed upon religious matters, only saying that if he were "religious" he should be a Roman Catholic. Thus the time on our journey from Silsden to Keighley sped very pleasantly. It was almost midnight when we got into the town. While at Keighley, Mr Bradlaugh stayed with Mr John Rhodes, who conducted a small temperance hotel in the corner of the Market-place.

THE HEROIC WATCHMAN OF CALVERSYKE HILL

A good deal was made in the town out of an incident in which the watchman at Calversyke Mills played a "heroic" part. It was this way. William Binns, who lived at Calversyke Hill, just below the Reservoir Tavern, occupied one of the top storey rooms in his house as a work-room for wooden models, &c. One night he was cleaning up, and he burned the shavings and rubbish in the fire place. There happened to be a strong wind, and the sparks were wafted out of the chimney and over towards the mills. The watchman noticed the sparks flying about, and "in the execution of his duty," informed the authorities of the matter, and Binns was hauled before the magistrates, and fined 5s and costs. I may say that in those days few persons summoned before the magistrates escaped a fine or its equivalent. In this case the action of the watchman was generally regarded as ridiculous. Now, Binns was an old friend of mine, we having been on the stage together, and at his earnest solicitation I wrote a satire with the t.i.tle, "The 'Heroic' Watchman of Calversyke Hill," from which I take the following verses:-

He swore by his maker the flames rose so high, That within a few yards, sir, it reached to the sky; And so greatly it lighted up mountains and dales, He could see into Ireland, Scotland and Wales!

And so easily the commons did swallow his pill, That they fined the poor artist at Calversyke Hill.

Now, there are some foolish people who are led to suppose It was by some shavings this fire first arose.

"But yet," says the 'hero,' "I greatly suspect This fire was caused by the grossest neglect.

But I'm glad it's put out, let it be as it will,"

Says the "heroic" watchman of Calversyke Hill.

So, many brave thanks to this "heroic" knave, For thousands of lives no doubt he did save; And but for this "hero" the disaster had spread And smothered the nation while sleeping in bed; But to save all His people it was the Lord's will, Through the "heroic" watchman of Calversyke Hill!

CHAPTER XVIII THE GREAT TICKET-OF-LEAVE STRIKE

This great dispute in the iron trade of Keighley, about the year 1871, was known as the "ticket-of-leave" strike. The "Iron Lords" of Keighley amalgamated and practised a system of boycotting upon their workpeople.

If a workman left one firm and took up with another, the latter would enquire of the man's late employers what were the reasons of his leaving, &c. The reply took the form of a "Ticket," sent under cover, of course, and practically decided the fate of the workman. Containing as this ticket usually did particulars as to the cla.s.s to which the workman in question belonged; as to the wages he was worth, &c., the scale of ironworkers' wages in the town got to an unbearably low ebb. The masters held the full sway for a while; then the workpeople broke out in open revolt against the pernicious system of their masters, and thus commenced the great "ticket-of-leave" strike. Early in the dispute I was applied to by the strike authorities to write and expose the unfair dealings of the "Iron Lords" of Keighley, and on the first day of the strike I composed several verses to go to the tune of the National Anthem. This was sung at the first great meeting of the strikers held in the Temperance Hall. The verses were as follow:-

Men of the iron trade, Whose hands have England made Greater than all!

How can you quietly stand With the chains on your hands?

Hear you not through the land Liberty's call?

Long have you been the slaves Of these conniving knaves Now's your relief.

Swear you no longer will, Neither in shop nor mill, Tremble for pen or quill, Or ticket-of-leave!

Strike while the iron's hot, And let it not be forgot 'Tis sweet liberty.

Stand like true Britons, then, Show you are Englishmen, Make your shouts ring again, "We will be free!"

This is only one of the many effusions I manufactured at the request of the Strike Committee. I wrote pamphlet after pamphlet (some sixteen pages in length) denouncing the unfair system which the masters had put into operation. The strikers went into the outside districts, as far as Bradford and on to Leeds, collecting towards the strike funds. They took with them supplies of my pamphlets and verses, which, so the men told me, won them much sympathy, and, what was infinitely more desirable-much money. But this system of collection to the strike funds was much abused, as has been the case in the present coal strike-men went out begging, ostensibly for the general strike fund, but in reality for their own private funds. Individuals managed to possess themselves of strike "literature," and with its aid found themselves able to rake in the shekels more abundantly than they had been doing by their ordinary work; and so the strike proved a sort of harvest to them. The strikers received much support, I must say, from the publicans. In particular, one Owen Cash the landlord of the "Devons.h.i.+re Tap," provided free dinners as well as suppers. Then "Bob" Walton and a pork butcher in Upper Green each gave a whole pig; and there were many other gifts in kind for the out o' work workers. Of course there were those among the strikers ever ready to take a mean advantage of a kind action. A good many of the shopkeepers allowed goods on credit; but many of the people to whom they extended this privilege failed to show up again after the strike was settled. When this settlement was arrived at, it was at the expense of the masters. At this juncture the Strike Committee was not altogether without funds, for they had a surplus of something like 40. There were various suggestions made as to the disposal of this money, one of them being that it should be handed to Bill o' th' Hoylus End for his services in the "strike literature department." This suggestion was embodied in a motion, but the proposer got no seconder, and thus there remained wanting a bridge over the chasm existing between the money and myself; but the bridge is still wanting!

THE PARISH PINDER

Perhaps a reference in my "Recollections" to William Speak (_alias_ "Bawk"), the parish pinder, will not be out of place. "Billy," as the gentleman was ordinarily called, occupied the position of pinder for a score of years. He was well known in the town, not merely on account of his official duty in taking care of stray animals, but of personal peculiarities which made him a public character. Yes; he certainly had his eccentricities had Billy Speak. One peculiarity about him in the eyes of the townspeople was that he was seldom, if ever, seen abroad in the daytime; but at night he always appeared to be very busy. Of course rumour is rumour; but some people went so far as to say when his "trade"

was slack, Billy would not object to opening a gate and allowing the animals in the field to come out upon the highway, thus affording a nice capture for the pinfold. It was also said that the pinder had received many sound thras.h.i.+ngs from farmers whom he had met at night for these little acts of misdemeanour. In this connection I may mention that on one occasion a goose belonging to Jerry Wells was placed in the pinfold (which was then in Coney lane) by Billy. The walls of the pound, however, were so low that Jerry's goose flew over them, and went away-the pinder did not know where. Now, old Jerry Wells was a man who enjoyed a good "lark"; and although his goose had come home, he sued Billy in the County Court, on the 12th January, 1853, for "clappin' his gooise in'tat'

pinfowd." How the case ended I forget; but I think it would teach the too ardent pinder a valuable lesson. Now, for a long time Billy had to go without a uniform, but at last Barney McVay and others said it was a shame that anyone holding an official position of this kind should not be provided with a uniform. So that a public subscription was started, and the pinder-to enable him the better to uphold the dignity of his office-was presented with a uniform; and at the same time opportunity was taken to uniform the town's crier, Jack Moore, who kept the "Dusty Miller," at Damside. The question of suitable headgear was a momentous and difficult one, but eventually a helmet was selected for the pinder, with a c.o.c.ked hat for the town's crier. "Bawk" did not live long to enjoy his uniform. He died in May, 1875, and was followed to the grave by his wife a few days afterwards.

ADVENTURE WITH A SHARK

It was in 1872 that James Leach and David Hey and myself purchased a large shark at Hull. The shark had apparently been harpooned at sea, and washed into the Humber. It was secured by some fishermen, and they offered it for sale by public auction. A brother of George Swire, of Keighley, chanced to be in Hull at the time, and hearing of the sale, he sent word to us at Keighley about it. My friend Leach-who would be close upon sixty years old at the time-was deputed to Hull to purchase the shark, and he effected the bargain for 3 17s 6d. The shark was seventeen feet in length; it was brought to Keighley by rail, and there were many people to witness the landing of the monster. We took it to the Burlington laithe (now used as an auction room by Mr T. S. Lister). I painted a glowing scenic piece for the entrance to the exhibition-picturing the shark swallowing a whole boat-load of people! I was also put on to act as showman, and in that capacity-not in my capacity as a private citizen-I told stories of the voracious appet.i.te of the shark when alive. Many blankets had been found in the shark, not to mention a barrel or two of beer. Leach stood at the door turning a box organ, which we had bought cheaply; and David Hey undertook to look after the naphtha lamps, &c. Well, for a week the show went on very well, and we had large numbers of visitors. Towards the end of the week, the fish began to smell, so we paid Joseph Gott, taxidermist, Market-street, 5 to cure the shark. In the meantime we purchased a tent and additional naphtha lamps, and when the curing process was completed, and we had had a box made in which to place the shark, we started on our first expedition, going to Haworth. Our visit here was attended by a slight misfortune. We had got the tent pitched, and a good audience in it, when one of the naphtha lamps exploded and set fire to the canvas top. Luckily we succeeded in extinguis.h.i.+ng the flames before they had done more than burn a hole in the canvas top; and the aperture was covered with a shawl, which my friend Leach was wearing. As on the occasion of my visit to Haworth in the garb of a monkey, with Jack Spencer, the Haworth folk thought it a joke, and swore that the shark "wor made o' leather." But after they had examined it, I think they were convinced it was the real thing. We next took the show to Clayton, and here we were unable to get lodgings, and had to sleep in the tent along with the shark. Before daybreak we were leaving Clayton for Vicar's Croft, Leeds. It was moonlight, and I shall never forget an incident which happened on the way. Certainly we must have formed a very curious spectacle. A grey galloway and cart, with Dave Hey as driver; myself on the cart balancing the long box; and James Leach sitting with the box organ on his back.

Leach saw our shadow in the strong moonlight, and rather astonished us by exclaiming-"There's Bill o' th' Hoylus theear-he can wag his tongue like a lamb's tail; and Dave o' th' Damside-he can whistle an' sing an' he's a houseful o' little barns; by gum, I wish I wor at home wi' ahr Sarah!"

The rest of the journey he seemed to be occupied in deep thought; and when we got the tent erected in Vicar's Croft he "broke out in open rebellion," and refused to play the organ. "Nay," says he, "no more organ playing for me; I'm bahn ta dissolve partners.h.i.+p wi' ye, an' tak t' first train ta Keighley." He suited his words to action and returned home. Of course this rather upset things, but Dave and I determined to go on with the business. Our visit to Leeds brought in a few pounds. Hey then insisted on our going up in the Lake District. I objected strongly, but had eventually to give in, and, to make a long story short, we landed at Windermere. We did very poor business, barely paying expenses; and such was the case when we moved to Keswick and other places around the Lake District. We next s.h.i.+fted to Morecambe, where we pa.s.sed a very profitable week, and then embarked in a fis.h.i.+ng smack which was returning to Fleetwood. We were overtaken by a fearful storm, and the fishermen were fully occupied in keeping their boat right side up. Hey was down in the hold, having left me to take care of the shark. The sea swept over the sides, and I had great difficulty in retaining the box containing our treasure. I shouted to Dave to come and help me, but the only answer I got was that if he was going to be drowned he "wod dee happy." When we got to Fleetwood, some time elapsed before we were able to land, and when we at last did set foot on the sh.o.r.e, I said to myself, "No more shark showing for me." Luck seemed to be in the way just then, for a gentleman who came in to see the shark asked me what I would sell it for. I told him I would take 20 for the whole concern-shark, tent, box organ, &c.

But he said he only wanted the shark. After much bargaining I brought the price down to 14 for the lot, and he accepted this, and returned the tent, box organ, lamps, &c., and out of these Hey and I made another sovereign. The gentleman purchased the shark for a museum in Fleetwood.

Dave o' th' Damside and Bill o' th' Hoylus End were now rich for once in their lives, but-I almost shrink from telling it-by the time they got to Skipton they had spent every penny of the money, and had to walk to Keighley, from where they had been absent about six months.

CHAPTER XIX

THE BIG PIKE AND THE PRIZE RAM

It was not very long after our adventure with the shark, described last week, that Dave o' th' Damside and I had a "go" with a monster pike. This pike was caught in the old river at Utley by Sam Friar. It was of a tremendous size, and, no doubt, had a good history; for, among other things, the fish was short of one eye. Dave and I obtained possession of the pike, and we had it on exhibition one Sat.u.r.day in the Market-place. I was again put in to describe the show, and I have no doubt that I made the most of the "recommendations" of the "one-eyed" monster. At night we cut the fish up and sold it; and many would be the Sunday dinners that the big pike would provide. Hey and your humble servant next turned their attention to a fine large ram, which had been purchased by Mr Patrick McShee at a sale of the farm stock of Mr Thomas Brigg, Calversyke Hill.

The ram had won many prizes at agricultural shows, and we had it on exhibition in a shop in North-street, now occupied by Mr Whitworth, tobacconist. At the time, the Tichborne case was in the public mind, so we gave the sheep the name, "Sir Roger Tichborne." Many people came to see the prize ram, the visitors including farming gentlemen of the town and district; so that we fared very well with our show. Then we added a monkey and a bull-dog, and, what with the ram, monkey, and bull-dog, there was a glorious row! But the greater the noise the greater was the desire of the public to pay a visit to the show, and this continued the case, to our unqualified satisfaction, for some time. The sheep, being a prize animal, had clearly fared wisely and well in Mr Brigg's possession, and, whether it was from heart-ache at the loss of a good home or what else, the animal soon pined away, refusing to eat or drink, and its death, I think, marked the termination of the connection of Dave o' th'

Damside and Bill o' th' Hoylus End with "show business."

MR LEACH AND THE BATHS AND WASH-HOUSES

Soon after my worthy friend, Mr James Leach, betook himself from "show land," he commenced in earnest the study of politics and local affairs.

He managed, with my a.s.sistance, &c., to obtain a seat on the Board of Guardians, and also on the Local Board of Health. Then, there was a great agitation concerning the health and cleanliness of the people, and it was "ordained by the elders of the Senate that baths and wash-houses should be erected and built throughout the length and the breadth of the land."

According to the "Chronicles of Keighley," "the governors of the city did not think it meet to comply with the law of the Senate, and refused so to do. Whereupon other elders of the city gathered themselves together, and determined in their hearts that baths and wash-houses should be built, and that the cost thereof should be defrayed out of the tax imposed on the relief of the poor in the land." This use, or misuse, of the public money caused strife among the people, who for the most part opposed the scheme. A vestry meeting, however, was called, and though very thinly attended, the opportunity was taken to elect the Commissioners of the Baths and Wash-houses, and it was decided to proceed with the erection of the building, the cost of which was estimated at 6,000. But when this money had been expended the baths and wash-houses were far from completed, and, at the request of the Commissioners, another 2,000 was granted for the work. Still this proved sadly insufficient, and "the inhabitants of the land began to be mightily displeased at the conduct of the Commissioners, by reason that they demanded more gold." The people were for the third time called to a vestry meeting, and on this occasion there was a large and animated attendance. The Commissioners asked for 2,500, and this, amid great tumult and shouting, the people emphatically declared they would not lend: "One named Leach sware that no more gold should be granted." After much lively demonstration, the meeting ended with the decision "that the matter should not be entertained until the end of that day twelve months." When that time came round the people were once more called together. The money was still refused, and it was ordered that a poll of the town should be taken. The poll showed a great majority against granting the money, and the result of this decision was that the baths and wash-houses had to remain in their unfinished state for seven years. At the end of the seven years the building was, some way or other, completed; and thus an end was put to one of the greatest farces and pieces of blundering and mismanagement that has occurred in the town-before or after.

ASTROLOGY AND b.u.mPOLOGY

It was a co-worker of mine, Joseph Hopkinson ("Joe Hobble"), a warpdresser, of Haworth, who introduced me to Jack Kay and Harry Mac, two fortune tellers who were in Haworth. Harry Mac had a book with which he told fortunes, and this book, which was an English translation of a Greek work on astrology, Joe Hopkinson borrowed for me. I perused the book in the hope of one day being able to do a little fortune telling. Harry Mac and Jack Kay had done very well out of the book, and their knowledge of it; but my object in learning to presage events, was not as a means of livelihood, but in order to appease my appet.i.te for a bit of fun. It was while I was "reading, learning, and inwardly digesting" the contents of the book that Professor Fowler, the well-known phrenologist, came to Keighley and gave lectures on the science of b.u.mps, or phrenology, in the old Mechanics' Hall-now the Yorks.h.i.+re Penny Bank. I attended one of those lectures in company with Morgan Kennedy, a Keighley man, who afterwards became a professional phrenologist. When the time came for practical demonstrations the audience called out for me to go on the platform. I complied, and the Professor set himself to "feel my b.u.mps." In the first place he told the audience that "this was one of the few heads that he had had the opportunity of examining," which, of itself, was neither very favourable, nor very unfavourable. But there was suppressed t.i.ttering among the audience when he continued, "I have been on the Continent, and have examined the heads of Louis Napoleon, Victor Hugo, Garibaldi, and Louis Kossuth. This head, I may venture to say, rather touches upon those." I felt that the Professor had got out of his reckoning in making these comparisons; for although I had done a little soldiering, and was a poet in my own rough way, I knew that I had no claim whatever to be a governor, seeing that I had never been able to govern myself. However, I got through the ordeal. The result of my visit to Professor Fowler was that I combined the study of b.u.mpology with that of astrology, and I got on very well, and had some nice quiet fun, with telling people-mostly servant girls in public-houses-their fortunes, and describing their b.u.mps. Many people, I know, really thought I was a "nap-hand" in the work. One incident I remember well. A young man of the name of Tom Smith, a warpdresser, one night came to ask me to rule the planets and tell him whether he and his wife would ever live together again. I told my visitor that I could do nothing for him that night, but if he would call the following evening I should then be prepared to "invoke the infernal regions." He was at my house the next night, and asked me whether "ahr Emma" would ever live with him again. I said "Well, Tom, the first thing you will have to do is to go upstairs blindfolded." I placed a bandage over his eyes, and sent him upstairs, having told him to walk quietly across the middle of the chamber floor. I had suspended the beam of a warp-dressing frame from the ceiling. Tom walked against this beam, which swung back upon him, and, apparently, greatly frightened him, for of all the screaming I ever heard, it took place that night in that chamber. Tom was blindfolded, and, in addition to that, the room was in darkness; and when he was able to pick his way out of the "chamber of horrors," he beat a hasty retreat from the house. This is a sample of the fun I had during my experiences as a humble advocate (?) of the "art of professing to reveal future events in the life of another."

ALONE IN LONDON

Many townsfolk will remember Jim Blakey. He was a young fellow who had many peculiarities in his composition. One of these was that his mind was for ever bent upon travelling, and, not being short of money, he was often able to gratify his desires. Knowing that I had travelled a little, he would have me to accompany him to London. After certain adventures on the way we got to the big city, and secured lodgings. Blakey was not altogether well, so I left him at our hotel while I went for a walk through some of the parts of London I was already acquainted with. When I got back, however, Blakey had "gone-left no address," and, besides, he was the paymaster, and the only money I had was 2d. So that I could truly appreciate the situation of being "alone in London." I was wandering about the city all night, and in the morning found myself going towards Fulham. I was wearing a good big overcoat, and had also in my possession a new copy of "Goldsmith's poems:" these I had resolved to leave with my "uncle." On the road, however, I fell in with a wedding party, and disposed of the volume of poems for 3s 6d to the bridegroom, who said he should make a present of it to his bride. Going on to Fulham I fell in with an old friend from Keighley. I stayed a day or two with him, and then sailed from London Bridge to Hull. From Hull I walked to Keighley _minus_ my overcoat. I found that Blakey had not come home, but he returned in a day or two, and said he had looked all over London for me. I thought he had deserted me on purpose; so when we were in Edinburgh together shortly afterwards, I arranged with a Leeds guard whom I knew to put Blakey into a North of Scotland train instead of the one for Keighley. This the guard managed all right, poor Blakey being taken 200 miles further from home. When he at last got into the south train he was taken on to Bradford, and he told me that the ten miles' walk from Bradford to Keighley at midnight was worse than travelling the whole 400 miles. Notwithstanding these differences, we continued good friends until he finally left Keighley for Leeds, where he died after a few years.

CHAPTER XX