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.

"I've been soa distracted, an' handled soa bad,
Wol I thowt monny a time I sud ommost goa mad;
An't' doctor hes tell'd me ther wor noa other way
Nobbut going ta Blackpool or else Morecambe Bay;
An' charged me ta mind, if I sat dahn to dine,
Ta lig inta t' porter, an't' brandy, an't' wine.

"Soa nah, my accusers, what hev you ta say?
You can reckon that up in yer awn simple way;
But if ther's a falsehood in what I hev sed nah,
I wish mi new hat wod turn into a cah;
So this is my answer, an' this mi defence."
"Well done!" sed owd Jennet, "he's spokken some sense."

Soa his speech nah he ended, but it touched 'em i't' wick,
Fer we all could see plainly it wor nowt but a trick;
And Jennet declared--tho' she might be too rude--
If he'd come up to t' dinner he sud hev some home-brewed,
Fer i' spite o' ther scandal sho wor praad on him yet,
An' if he drank wine an' porter who'd owt ta do wi' 't.

WITH THE LATE CHARLES BRADLAUGH, M.P.

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 shillings. 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 assist 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 title, "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!