Part 2 (1/2)
Instrumental music next turned my head, or, more definitely-a violin. I bought a fiddle on my own account. Of course my father saw the instrument; if I could keep it out of his sight I could not very well keep it out of his hearing. Then, besides, little boys should not be deceptive. He says: ”What are you going to do with that?” I says: ”I'm going to learn to play it.” Then he asked me where I had bought it, and I told him like a dutiful son-”Tom Carrodus's in Church Green.” He summoned my mother and asked: ”Mally, what dos'ta think o' this lot?” She-good woman-said it was only another antic of her boy's, and ”let him have his own way.” But my father, on the contrary, got rather nasty about the matter, remarking that if I didn't take the thing away he would put it into the fire. He said he was sure it would only turn out a public house ”touch,” and informed me that it was only one in a thousand who ever got to be anything worth listening to. He endeavoured to impress upon me what a nuisance the old fiddler was on the Fair Day; and ”concluded a vigorous speech” by again reminding me that if I didn't take the fiddle out of his _sight_ he would burn it. He did give me the chance to play out of his sight; but, knowing, young as I was, that the unexpected sometimes happens, I decided to get rid of ”the thing,” as my father was pleased to call it. Fiddle and I parted company the very day after we came to know each other.
THE ”n.i.g.g.e.r” BUSINESS
next fascinated me; and I induced several lads and la.s.ses in the village to form a ”troupe.” We got up a show-not a very showy show, but a nice little show-and charged a reasonable sum for admission-only a half-penny!
The ”company” managed, by working together, to possess itself of a creditable wardrobe. But the ”Fell-lane n.i.g.g.e.r Troupe” did not live long.
I, for example, began to soar a little higher, that is to the dramatic stage; but my father evidenced the same bad grace as he did in regard to my fiddle.
A STROLLING, ROLLICKING PLAYER
I had somehow or other sc.r.a.ped together close upon a couple of hundred reprints of plays, which cost me from 6d to 2s a-piece. He said he would have no acting in his house. I pleaded it was only a bit of pastime; but it was all in vain, and what was more he threw all my books on the fire.
This greatly disheartened me-I should be about 14 years old at this period;-but though my father burned my play-books he did not quell my ardent ambition to go on the stage. A few days after, a theatrical man, called Tyre, visited Keighley. (Oh! how I have blessed that man!) He advertised for some amateur performers to play in a temperance drama of the t.i.tle ”The seven stages of a drunkard,” at the old Mechanics' Hall (until recently the Temperance Hall). The piece was to be played nightly for a fortnight. I mentioned to my father that I should very much like to take part in the performance. He asked the advice of somebody or other as to the character of the play, and being informed that it was a temperance piece, he consented to my serving a fortnight with the company. I applied, and was gladly accepted. The part of a boy-a boy who, in manhood, was a drunkard-was allotted to me. The company played for a fortnight before crowded houses. But my stage career was not destined to end there. Tyre, seeing that the Keighley public appreciated the efforts of his local talent, arranged for the performance of another piece, styled ”Ambrose Guinnett.” He asked me to take a part in that piece also, and I agreed on the spot to do so. I was put in as a sailor, and I purchased in the Market-place a sailor's suit and a black wig, on ”tick”-you see I was determined to have them. By-and-bye, it reached the ears of my father that I was going ”reight in for t'business.” However, the day fixed for the first performance came round, and then the performance commenced.
TRICKING POLICEMAN LEACH
The curtain had risen and all was going on nicely when on the stage, behind the wings, appeared a policeman-a real policeman-a policeman to the heart, into the bargain! ”Robert” turned out to be n.o.body else than my old friend, Mr James Leach, now of Balmoral House, The Esplanade, Keighley: this, I ought to mention, was my first meeting with Mr Leach.
My father it seemed, had heard definitely that I should be acting that night, and so he had induced Police-constable Leach (No. 5678, X division, A.1.), to look after me. Well, as I said before, P.C. Leach came on the stage. I happened to be the first soul he encountered. Says he to me: ”Have you got a young man here called William Wright?” [I saw he did not ”ken” me.] Says I to him: ”I have not.” Says he to me: ”I want that lad, wherever he is; his father has sent me for him, and if he won't go home I have to take him to the lock-up.” The last word rather frightened me; but I managed to say to him: ”To save you a deal of trouble, sir, young Wright isn't going to play in this piece at all,”
and, with that, directed him down the staircase. I was allowed to go on with my acting without interruption after that; but I hadn't to go on the stage another night. My parents then put their heads together to keep me out of mischief.
MILL LIFE AND POETRY
I was packed off to Lund's Mill-the late Mr William Lund was at the head of the firm at the time, and Benjamin Lamb and I became favourites with him. Mr Lund often used to take us into the staircase at the mill, provide us with chalk, and tell us to draw animals or anything we liked.
He would offer a prize for the best production. We had also to try our hands at ”making” poetry, and for this Mr Lund would give rewards. Ben could generally ”best” me at drawing, but I managed to get the poetry prizes all right. One day Ben signed teetotal, and I remember I wrote a few lines of doggerel on the occasion. It is rather uncouth, but here it is:-
Benjamin signed teetotal He signed from drink and liquors; And it gave him such an appet.i.te Begum he swallow'd pickers.
MAKING AND SAILING s.h.i.+PS
Ben and I also took a fancy to making various models, especially s.h.i.+ps.
Mr Lund caught us at the job, and, taking an interest in our work, he offered a prize for the one of us who made the best-sailing three-rigged vessel. We made our s.h.i.+ps and gaily decorated them. The day fixed for the trial was regarded with keen interest by the mill-hands. The trial trip was to take place in the mill dam, and the banks of the dam were crowded with workpeople. The conditions were that we should sail the s.h.i.+ps, with the aid of a warp thread, from the head to the foot of the dam. And the contest began. Ben's s.h.i.+p had scarcely been launched when it upset, being side-heavy. But my s.h.i.+p sailed gallantly before the breeze, right on to the finis.h.i.+ng post. The spectators cheered l.u.s.tily; I felt very proud, I did. I got the prize, and was made quite a ”hero” of for a few days. But they little knew the grand secret of my success. I had driven a spindle into the keel, so as to allow it to protrude downwards into the water; with this in it, it was almost impossible for the s.h.i.+p to upset!
CHAPTER III
TO THE STAGE AGAIN
Notwithstanding the kindness which I received at the mill, I could not settle down. I had a strong inclination to get out into the world and see something. My ambition again returned to the stage. I began to visit travelling theatres which came to Keighley, staying in Townfield Gate. I joined an amateur dramatic society, composed of Keighley people. The names of the members were:-Arthur Bland, John Spencer, William Binns, Mark Tetley, Thomas Smith, Thomas Kay-all of whom, I believe are dead-and Joshua Robinson, James Lister, Sam Moore and myself. There were also a number of females, who must be all dead by this time. We had weekly Sat.u.r.day night performances in an old barn in Queen-street, which is now used as a warehouse by Messrs W. Layc.o.c.k & Sons, curriers. After a short course of training in the society, Arthur Bland, John Spencer, and myself became rather-ambitious I suppose I shall have to call it-and joined the profession altogether. I should be about sixteen years old; and I was about the youngest member in the company. My companions and I joined Wild's Travelling Dramatic company. I was called the ”juvenile,” owing to the fact that I was the youngest member of the company. We fulfilled engagements at Bradford, Halifax, Dewsbury, Keighley, and other towns in the district. I considered (myself) that I made a ”rare fist” at acting, but the advice was unsympathisingly hurled at me-”Come home to your parents and start afresh.” Well, I took the advice, and went home to my parents. I often think it was very good of them to allow their errant son to come home as often as they did. I returned to my position as a warpdresser at Lund's mill, being about eighteen years old at the time.
Things went on very peaceably and agreeably for another little while, but I-just verging on the age of manhood-again felt a strong desire to go out into the world.