Now! Then! “Pilgrims” arrive at Leeds on Easter Monday on their way to York to hear Richard Oastler call for a 10-hour working day for mill children

Excerpt

In some villages and scattered patches of houses, contributions of bread and other provisions were amply raised by the poor for the pilgrims – but the great want of all was shoes. These were lent; and whilst some had the ill-fitting and grotesque coats of their neighbours, others were content with a portion of a well-greased wool sheet: and at the appointed hour, which varied as the distance might be, the confluent streams of animated beings began to move. Leeds was the first halt. On the evening before the meeting, Leeds was crowded with the people (young and old) of Dewsbury, Bradford, Halifax, Birstall, and Huddersfield, and far beyond these and their numerous surrounding townships of Keighley and Sutton – of Holmfirth, and even Chapel-le-Frith on the bare moors – in fact from that range of hills rising in Derbyshire, and running down into Scotland’s border, called “the backbone of England,” to the centre of the city of the north, the swarming thousands poured down on that occasion. Their progress was peaceable, and in every way orderly. Large masses went on in rustic order, singing Jehovah’s praises, and imploring, in verse perhaps rudely composed for the occasion, His never-failing compassion for themselves and their little ones. The banners were in many cases very strikingly expressive. Most of them had a scriptural phrase or allusion. Some were painted by the rude artist to represent the horrors of the mill system – such as a father carrying his little girl through a pelting storm of sleet and snow to a noted flax mill near Leeds, at five in the morning, himself in tatters, and having taken off his own remnant of what was once a coat, to cover his hapless babe, who was doomed to earn its parent’s living, as well as its own, at the certain destruction of its own health and morals, and probably its very life-doomed to lie in a premature grave. Others had inscribed “Father, is it time?” a cry which is often heard the night through in the crowded and wretched dormitory of the factory working-people, and which little children, more asleep than awake (dreading the consequences of being late), were often heard to utter. Warehouses were provided for each party that came in, and a good litter of straw “long feathers” was spread for them to lie upon, until, after a few hours’ rest, they should resume their work.

Easter Monday is on 1 April 2024.

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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

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Oastler himself tells a rather smug story about the marchers’ arrival at York Racecourse, on their way to the Castle Yard. The bread promised to them after the long trek has been misplaced:

When I left the George Inn, to meet the hungry and exasperated people, I saw John Wood, (a principal mill-owner at that time, and a liberal friend of the factory bill), who asked me, “Well, how are you getting on?” I knew that his nerves would not bear the shock, so I said, “Oh, cleverly; I am going to Knavesmire to lead the people to the meeting.” Near Micklegate Bar, I met my own parson – [Rev. G.S.] Bull. I told him all about it, “that I expected the people would be so enraged that they would murder me; but my duty called me, and, at all hazards, I must do my best to quiet them.” He, like a brave fellow as he is – (he is both good and brave) – pressed me “to allow him to accompany me and share my fate.” “No,” said I, “my friend, when they have killed me, they will rush to the city for bread and revenge, and you must remain here, meet them at the Bar, and try to appease them. Maybe, they will kill you also, but we must do our duty, and leave the event with God.” “I will obey your orders,” cried Bull, “and the Lord be with you.”

In a short time I was in sight of the crowd, on Knavesmire. I commended myself to God – and advanced. Judge of my surprise when I saw them, they did not rush on me in anger as I expected – my faithful friend, [Lawrence] Pitkethly, was striving to appease them – he soon saw me, and shouting, “the King, the King!” he cleared a passage for me to the centre of the assembled multitude. I mounted a table, and, as soon as I spoke, they cheered most lustily. I said a few words to console and animate them, and then marched off to the Castle Yard – thanking God, who had thus preserved my life, and given me the hearts of “my people.” Poor lads! they were hungry, but how patient (Kydd 1857).

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Original

In some villages and scattered patches of houses, contributions of bread and other provisions were amply raised by the poor for the pilgrims – but the great want of all was, shoes. These were lent; and whilst some had the ill-fitting and grotesque coats of their neighbours, others were content with a portion of a well-greased wool sheet: and at the appointed hour, which varied as the distance might be, the confluent streams of animated beings began to move… Leeds was the first halt. On the evening before the meeting [the meeting was on 24 April, Easter Tuesday], Leeds was crowded with the people (young and old) of Dewsbury, Bradford, Halifax, Birstal, and Huddersfield, and far beyond these and their numerous surrounding townships of Keighley and Sutton – of Holmfirth, and even Chapel le Frith on the bare moors – in fact from that range of hills rising in Derbyshire, and running down into Scotland’s border, called “the backbone of England,” to the centre of the city of the North, the swarming thousands poured down on that occasion. Their progress was peaceable, and in every way orderly. Large masses went on in rustic order, singing Jehovah’s praises, and imploring, in verse perhaps rudely composed for the occasion, His never-failing compassion for themselves and their little ones. The banners were in many cases very strikingly expressive. Most of them had a scriptural phrase or allusion. Some were painted by the rude artist to represent the horrors of the mill system – such as a father carrying his little girl through a pelting storm of sleet and snow to a noted flax mill near Leeds, at five in the morning, himself in tatters, and having taken off his own remnant of what was once a coat, to cover his hapless babe, who was doomed to earn its parent’s living, as well as its own, at the certain destruction of its own health and morals, and probably its very life – doomed to lie in a premature grave. Others had inscribed “Father, is it time?” a cry which is often heard the night through in the crowded and wretched dormitory of the factory working-people, and which little children, more asleep than awake (dreading the consequences of being late), were often heard to utter. Warehouses were provided for each party that came in, and a good litter of straw “long feathers” was spread for them to lie upon, until, after a few hours’ rest, they should resume their work. For such as had need, some bread was provided, at these stations, and a limited quantity of beer. The masses moved out of Leeds all that tempestuous night. Many could not proceed in consequence of the weather, thousands proceeded, mostly on foot, but some in carts and wagons, which they provided for themselves. The next station of the pilgrims was Cross Roads, on a heath, half way between Leeds and York.

Here a little refreshment awaited them, and then “Onward” was the cry. But a darker night never shrouded the sky.

The appearance of the road was novel and impressive; it resounded with cheers, which were uttered by the pilgrims at those who passed them in carriages of various sorts. In some groups there were torches, composed of old ropes, and the undulations of the road afforded many views of illuminated groups, successively rising over the hills and disappearing the next instant, leaving a loud, long cheer behind, as they sank out of view. It was indeed a moving scene.

588 words.

Now! Then! 2024! - Yorkshire On This Day

23 April 1832: “Pilgrims” arrive at Leeds on Easter Monday on their way to York to hear Richard Oastler call for a 10-hour working day for mill children

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