Adventures and Recollections

by Bill o'th' Hoylus End

CHAPTER VII

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.