Now! Then! The last bull-baiting at Lydgate Wakes, Saddleworth

19 August 1849: The last bull-baiting at Lydgate Wakes, Saddleworth

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Giles Shaw, Ed. 1887. Ashton Parish Church. The Wakes at Lees-cum-Hey, Lydgate, etc. Local Notes and Gleanings: Oldham and Neighbourhood in Bygone Times. Oldham: Oldham Express. Get it:

Excerpt

Lydgate Bull-Bait.

Last August, on a certain day,
To Lydgate Hill I took my way;
With Ned and Sam I did agree
That Lydgate Wakes we’d go and see.
As soon as e’er I entered the town
A man the Wakes was crying down;
‘Twas silence all, both great and small,
To hear the song of “Potten Ball.”
When “Potten Ball” began his song,
He warning save to old and young,
And said, “Ah! drunkards, be aware,
And ye that lie, game, cheat, and swear,
For ne’er of late has pastime been
But you’ve assembled on our green
With cocks to fight, or trails to run,
Or bulls to bait, for to cause fun.

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To facilitate reading, the spelling and punctuation of elderly excerpts have generally been modernised, and distracting excision scars concealed. My selections, translations, and editions are copyright.
Abbreviations:

ER: East Riding
GM: Greater Manchester
NR: North Riding
NY: North Yorkshire
SY: South Yorkshire
WR: West Riding
WY: West Yorkshire

Comment

My date. The author says it was approximately 37 years before his date of writing, 1886, so perhaps 1849. The first Sunday after August 15th was the 19th. The year is confirmed roughly by records locating the remarkable-sounding William Radcliffe at (Quick Edge,) Mossley:

1841 Census, Mossley: Hannah Radcliffe 50, Betty Radcliffe 20, Jane Radcliffe 15, Wm Radcliffe 14
1847 William Radcliffe marries Harriet Fielding at St. Michael, Mottram in Longdendale
1851 Census, Mossley: William Radcliff 24 Cotton Spinner, Harriet Radcliff 23 Cotton Reeler, Hannah Radcliff 63, John Radcliff 1
1861 Census, Quick Edge, Mossley: William Radcliffe 34 Cotton Spinner, Harriet Radcliffe 33, John Radcliffe 11 Cotton Piecer, Martha Radcliffe 7, Frederic Radcliffe 7, Joseph Radcliffe 5, William Radcliffe 5
1871 Census, Crown Point, Quickedge: Wm Radcliffe 44 Farmer, Harriet Radcliffe 43, John Radcliffe 21 Farm Labourer, Martha Radcliffe 17 Cotton Weaver, Frederick Radcliffe 17 Cotton Piecer, Joseph Radcliffe 15 Cotton Piecer, William Radcliffe 15 Cotton Piecer, James Radcliffe 8
1881 Census, George Inn, 1 Stamford Street, Mossley: William Radcliffe 54 Publican [not bad for a Congregationalist!], Harriet Radcliffe 54, John Radcliffe 31 Cellarman, Joseph Radcliffe 24 Barman, William Radcliffe 14 Waiter
William Radcliffe of Mossley, aged 56, buried 12 Oct 1883, St George, Mossley, left effects of £2,016 7s 8d [251K in 2020] to widow Harriet Radcliffe, son John Radcliffe Innkeeper of The George, son Frederick Radcliffe farmer at Quick Farm

A recent guide to St. George’s churchyard confirms some of this (Vaughan 2020).

30 years later local poet Ammon Wrigley used the same source but somehow concluded that 1886 – 37 = 1833 (Wrigley 1916). He comments, perhaps thinking of the great war proceeding at the time of his publication:

In 1802, a bill to abolish Bull baiting was introduced into the House of Commons. Wilberforce, the slavery abolitionist, and other prominent men, spoke strongly in its favour, but failed to save the measure. The spirit of the arguments which led to its rejection may be gathered from the speech of Windham, a famous speaker in his day, who expressed the opinion “that the bull and ring in which it was baited were the best recruiting sergeants for the army that England possessed.” That was the period of the great wars with France, and the country was badly in need of recruits. Some people may raise their hands in holy horror, but I think no worse of my ancestry because they were cockfighters and bull baiters. If I have read history aright, I have found that the cockfighting, bullbaiting and dogfighting men of England were the only men in the world who held in check and finally crushed Napoleon. In the wars of the early part of the 19th century one finds that the old bulldog breed never lost its hold, but chewed its way from grip to grip to the vitals of the foe.

The bone house was probably in the chapel yard and contained the bones of the dead. Beowulf: Ne wæs ecg bona, ac him hildegrap heortan wylmas, banhus gebræc.

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Original

The following are a few particulars relative to the Wakes at Lydgate, held on the first Sunday after the 15th of August, and Lees-cum-Hey, celebrated on the first Saturday in August and several following days. A few years ago Lydgate Wakes was described as consisting of “an old woman and part of a barrowful of nuts!” Latterly, however, things have grown worse, and, in the style of Diogenes, it has been necessary to seek it with a lantern and candle. But it was not once so. Half a century ago, beside the chapel yard lay a grassy plot of land, well known as the village green. It had an area of about a Lancashire acre, and at the Wakes was the scene of the annual bull bait. Then, whilst a concourse of the more venturesome folk thronged around the dogs and bull, the more timorous sat on the roof of the bone house watching the progress of the fray. It these latter were safe from unpleasant effects in case, as not infrequently happened, the enraged Taurus broke loose from the stake, on the other hand, they debarred themselves from personal participation in the phase of sensational fun and excitement alluded to in an old Derbyshire song:

The bull gave a rush and a very great roar;
He tossed up the dogs and the folks tumbled o’er.

Although the first parliamentary legislation was ineffectual in putting down the bating of various animals, yet in 1835 an act was passed which, supported by the growing intelligence of the country, settled the matter for ever. The last bull bait held at Lydgate took place about thirty-seven years ago, when William Radcliffe, better known as “Owd Billy Potbo,” a small farmer at Quick Edge, was the constable for that portion of the township of Saddleworth. Mr. Radcliffe was the superintendent of the Springhead Congregationalist Sunday School, and had the courage to summon a good many persons who had been engaged in the “sport.” A local rhymester, Edmund Buckley, who lived near Lees, wrote a song, of which the following stanzas are all that his son James remembers:

Lydgate Bull-Bait.

Last August, on a certain day,
To Lydgate Hill I took my way;
With Ned and Sam I did agree
That Lydgate Wakes we’d go and see.
As soon as e’er I entered the town
A man the Wakes was crying down;
‘Twas silence all, both great and small,
To hear the song of “Potten Ball.”
When “Potten Ball” began his song,
He warning save to old and young,
And said, “Ah! drunkards, be aware,
And ye that lie, game, cheat, and swear,
For ne’er of late has pastime been
But you’ve assembled on our green
With cocks to fight, or trails to run,
Or bulls to bait, for to cause fun.