"When I went to the gate one evening, there was a young man standing there, who asked me if I wanted a sweetheart. I answered, 'Not I, marry! I want no sweethearts.' I then went into the house, and left him. I saw the same young man frequently about, but did not speak to him for years after. His name was John Crossley. When my mistress ascertained his object, she did all she could to set me against him. She told me that when she was a girl, she had gone to a boarding-school kept by a Mrs. Crossley,—that her husband's name was Tom Crossley, the grandfather of this very man that was courting me,—and that a wilder, idler scapegrace she never knew. She always said, when she saw him coming, 'There's young Crossley come again.'
"One day I received a love-letter from him, which I could now repeat word for word. I had several other suitors, but none were so persevering as John Crossley. He pressed me very much to have him. At last he sent me a letter to say that a house was vacant in Lower George Yard, close to the works he was managing, and that it was a great chance to meet with one so convenient. I told him that I was going home to spend the 5th of November, and would pass that way and look at the house, which I did. When I got home I asked my parents for their consent. They did not object much to it at the time; but I had not been at Miss Oldfield's more than a day or two, before they sent over my sister Grace to say that they would not give their consent to the match, and that if I insisted on being married to John Crossley, they would never look me in the face again.
"So soon as my sister was gone, I retired in a most distressed state of feeling to my bedroom, and opened my book that was the preparation for the sacrament, and the first place at which I opened I read these words: 'When thy father and thy mother forsake thee, then the Lord will take thee up.' This comforted me very much. I felt that the Lord was with me in this matter, and I could no longer doubt which was the path of duty…. I decided to accept John Crossley's offer, and we were married on the 28th day of January, 1800."
Mr. Crossley never did a better day's work than in marrying his excellent and noble wife. From that day forward she was his helper, his co-worker, his consoler. She assisted her husband in all his struggles, and in a certain sense she was the backbone of the Crossley family.
After the death of Mr. Job Lees, whose carpet manufactory he had managed, Mr. Crossley entered into partnership with two other persons, to take the plant and carry on the business. Some difference having occurred with the partners, he left the firm, and took a lease of Dean Clough Mill, where he entered into another partnership with his brother Thomas, and James Travers. There they carried on the business of worsted spinning. At the same time, John Crossley continued to spin and dye the yarns and to manage the looms of the firm which he had left. In fact, the dyeing and spinning for the old firm formed a considerable part of the business of the new one. Then came a crisis. The old firm took away their work: they sent the wool to be spun and the yarn to be dyed elsewhere. This was a great blow; but eventually it was got over by extra diligence, energy, and thrift,—Mrs. Crossley herself taking a full share in the labours and responsibility of her husband.
"In addition to the carpet making," she says in the Manuscript Memoir of her life, "we carried on the manufacture of shalloons and plainbacks, the whole of which I managed myself, so far as putting out the warps and weft, and taking in from the weavers. We had at one time as many as a hundred and sixty hand weavers on these goods. We sold the principal part of them in London. We had also about four looms making brace webs and body belts. The produce of these looms I sold principally to the Irish, who made them up into braces and hawked them about the country. I also made and stitched, with assistance, all the carpets that we sold retail. I used to get up to work by four o'clock in the morning, and being very diligent, I have usually earned two shillings before breakfast, by the time that my neighbours were coming downstairs."
The partnership of Crossley, Travers, and Crossley, lasted for twenty years. When the term had expired, the partners shared their savings; they amounted to £4,200, or fourteen hundred pounds to each. This was not a very large sum to make during twenty years' hard work; but Dean Clough Mill was then but a small concern, and each partner did his own share of handiwork in spinning, dyeing, and weaving. Mrs. Crossley says that "the fourteen hundred pounds came in very useful." In fact, it was only a beginning. John Crossley eventually bought the Dean Clough Mills out and out. He had a family of eight children to provide for; and he put his sons for the most part into his business. They followed the example of their parents, and became thrifty, useful, and honourable men.
John Crossley, the founder of the firm, has observed, that in the course of his life he was a keen observer of men and things. He says he noticed many of the failures of his neighbours in bringing up their children. Some fathers were so strict with their children, keeping them so constantly at home, and letting them see so little of the world in which they lived, that when the fathers died and the children were removed from all restraint, they came forth into the world like calves, and found everything entirely different from what they expected. Such unguided young persons, Mr. Crossley found, soon became wild, lost, and ruined. Then he observed the opposite extreme,—where the fathers indulged their children so much, that they became quite unfitted to endure the hardships of the world,—and, like a vessel that is sent to sea without a helm, they soon became stranded on the shores of life.
Hence Mr. Crossley endeavoured to steer clear of both extremes, and to give to his sons as much knowledge and experience of life as possible. When at home, he always had one of his sons near him; or when he went from home, he always took one of them with him. Thus they gained a great deal of practical knowledge of life, and knew something of the good and evil in the world; and as they grew older, they were all the better able to turn their own lives to the best account.
It is not necessary to follow the history of the Crossley family further. John Crossley died in 1837, after which the firm was conducted by John, Joseph, and Sir Francis Crossley, Bart. The latter represented the West Riding of the county of York at the time of his death, a few years ago. In 1857 he purchased a splendid piece of ground, which he presented to the Corporation of Halifax, to be used as a People's Park for ever. In the speech which he made on the occasion of presenting it, he said, amongst other things, that he had often discussed with his friend the Mayor the philosophy of money. "I recollect very well," he said, "once entering into the question with him, when I was twenty years younger than I am now, and saying that I saw a great deal of emptiness about this money-getting; that many were striving for that which they thought would make them happy, but that it was like a bubble upon the water—no sooner caught than burst…. Had I," he afterwards said, "been of noble birth, or traced my origin (like some in this room) to those who came in with William the Conqueror, however true it might be, it would not have been good, it would even be boastful to have done so.[1] But since I am of humble birth, perhaps it will be allowed me to say a little of those who ought to share the honour which is heaped upon me. My mother was the daughter of a farmer who lived upon his own estate, and although it was not large, it had been in the family for many generations. Her father made the same mistake that Jacob made,—Jacob made too much of Joseph, and her father made too much of Mary. My mother was seventeen, and quick in disposition. She said that right was not done to her at home, and she was determined to make her own way in the world, whatever the consequences might be. She went out to service, contrary to the wish of her father. I am honoured to-day with the presence of one who has descended from the family who engaged her as servant: I mean Mr. Oldfield, of Stock Lane, vice-chairman of the Halifax Board of Guardians. In that service, in her own person, she did the work of kitchenmaid, of housemaid, and of cook; and in addition to that she regularly milked six cows every night and morning. Besides which, she kept the house, which was as clean as a little palace. But this was not enough to employ her willing hands. Her mistress took in wool or tops to spin, and she could do what scarcely any in Warley could have done,—she spun that wool to thirty-six hanks in the pound, and thus earned many a guinea for her mistress, besides doing all her other work."[2]