CHAPTER XVII
THE KEIGHLEY GLORY BAND
Much interest was taken, I remember, in the visit to Keighley of a social and temperance reformer of the name of Captain John Ball. He had two “lieutenants” with him, named Mountain and Roberts, both good at “spouting.” Their meeting place was the old Independent chapel in Upper Green, and the services drew large congregations, many people of various denominations attending. The work went on very well for some time, and I believe that a fair amount of good was done; but, unfortunately, Captain Ball “could not stand his corn,” and—if Dame Rumour was to be believed—frequently indulged in a “wee drappie,” and occasionally overstepped the mark of moderation. Of course the people attending his services made great capital out of the ugly rumours, and one and another commenced to pull the “captain” in pieces. Now, I had all along entertained a certain respect for Captain Ball, so I took it upon myself to defend him, writing a pamphlet in which I gave prominence to the fact that it was the aim of all religion to forget and forgive. The little affair blew nicely over, and the congregation continued to hold together, until John had another fall; and the climax was reached when he committed himself for the fourth time by coming to Divine service “blind” drunk. On this occasion one of his lieutenants, who accompanied him, was not exactly sober. The incident reminds me of the old ballad:—
Robin and Johnny were going down t’ street;
They called at t’ first alehouse they chanced to meet.
While Robin drank one glass, our Johnny drank two,
An’ they both got a drunk as my granny’s old sow.
It was truly an awkward position for any man to be in. Captain Bell could not make a defence, and he was excommunicated from the “Glory Band.” Perhaps the following verses, extracted from my piece entitled “My Visit to t’ Glory Band,” will give some idea of the incident. I paid my visit in company with “Owd Jennet, t’ Ranter, fra Havercake-row”:—
So they prayed, an’ they sang, i’ ther owd fashioned way,
Until a gert chap says, “I’ve summat to say;”
An’, bi t’heart, I’st a fallen dahn sick i’ mi pew,
But I thowt at toan hawf he sed worn’t trew;
Fer he charged Parson Ball wi’ bein’ drunk i’t’street,
’At he’d been put ta bed three times i’ one neet.
“Does ta hear,” says owd Jennet, “what t’hullet is sayin’?
He’s usin’ his scandal asteead o’ bein’ prayin’;
Fer John Ball is respected by ivvery one,
Soa I salln’t believe a word abaat John;
Fer him an’ ahr Robin are two decent men,
Soa pray yah nah hearken they’ll speak fer thersen.
“Soa all wor nah silent,—they mud hear a pin fall;
Fer nobody wor hissin’ or clappin’ at all.
Scarce hed long Gomersall spun out his yarn—
Wi’ his two blazin’ een he had scarcely sat dahn,
Than John stood up on his pins in a minute;—
An’ rare an’ weel pleased wor I an’ owd Jennet.
“My brethren,” he sed, wi’ a tear in his ee,
“You sall hear for yourselns my accusers an’ me,
An’ if I be guilty—man’s liable ta fall
As well as yer pastor an’ servant, John Ball;
But let my accuser, if faults he hes noan,
Be t’ first, an’ no other, ta throw the first stoan.
“I’ve drunk wine an’ porter, I do not deny,
But then my accusers hev not tell’d you why;
So ther false accusation I feel it more keen,
’Cause I’ve hed the lumbago i’ both o’ my een;
Besides, mi back warked as if it wor broke,
An’ mi throit’s been so parched wol I thowt I sud choke.