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Repeal of the Corn Laws.—“String him up to the Lamp-post.”—Abolition of Church Rates.—Religious Liberty.—My Business Life.—A Fortnight’s Round.—Building the St. Ives Mill.—The Introduction of Novel Machinery.—Why the Huntingdon Mill Was Built.—The Way the Wind Blew.—Events Connected With the Building of Huntingdon Corn Exchange.—How I Became a Town Councillor and Mayor of Huntingdon.
I remember going with my father in Veasey’s Bank on a Thursday at St. Neots, when the late Mr. David Veasey was quite excited at Sir Robert Peel’s majority, and was rather taken aback when my father said he would use his majority to repeal the Corn Laws—which he afterwards did.
The final causes of the Corn Laws being repealed were first the potato famine in Ireland. Potatoes, to the Irish, being the staff of life, and the crop failing, the people died by thousands, and wheat in England went up to 120s. per quarter. Secondly, the League was becoming so powerful that the Government were compelled to either prose-{87}cute it as an illegal society, or grant the object for which it was formed. The Government wisely took the latter course. I say wisely, because events showed the wisdom of repealing the Corn Laws, for when in 1848, the year of the French Revolution and the flight of Louis Phillippe, and when nearly every crowned head in Europe had to flee, England, owing to the great grievance having being removed, remained quiet and tranquil during the Continental uprising.
After the Corn Laws were repealed, an agitation was got up by the Protectionists to restore them. Meetings were held in the Institution Hall, Huntingdon, which would also be attended by Free Trade gentlemen, and lively scenes would occasionally occur. I remember at one of the meetings, Mr. Pryme, of Wistow, Professor of Political Economy at Cambridge, was speaking in favour of Free Trade, when an excitable farmer from Somersham (Mr. Ibbot Mason) kept shouting out to the audience, “String him up to the lamp-post,” “String him up to the lamp-post.” Then when Earl Fitzwilliam, who unsolicited attended the same meeting to uphold the cause of Free Trade, was speaking of the policy and the necessity of repealing the Corn Laws, because they were setting class again class, someone called out, “Why, instead of total repeal, should there not have been a fixed duty of 8s. per quarter.” “Ah, my friend,” the Earl replied, “that you ought to have accepted when it was offered you, but it is too late now.” Lord John Russell, when at the head of the {88} Whig Government, had suggested a compromise of an eight-shilling duty. This the Country Party had refused, almost with indignation.
At the Fen Office in Ely, the farmers painted on the door or wall, “Farmers, pay no more tithes and taxes”; meaning until the duties were restored. A large meeting was held in Ely Corn Exchange, when Mr. Edward Ball, M.P. for Cambs., was making a violent speech. He asked, “Of what use is a cheap loaf, if a man has no money to buy it with?” and he went on to say that the Fen labourers, since the repeal of the Corn Laws, were reduced almost to shadows. There was a group of great burly labourers near the speaker, and one of them shouted, “That is a lie.”
Church Rates used to cause very exciting contests, and were good object lessons to young Nonconformists as to what the Church would do where the Civil Authority gave it the power. A majority in vestry could either refuse or make a rate. A very strong contest took place at St. Ives about the year 1842, the Rev. Fosbrooke being Vicar. One voter was fetched home from Paris on the Church side, and several watermen voters from Bedford. The vestry meetings were held in the Parish Church, and on this occasion the Vicar made the remark that the Church was rotten at the foundations, meaning that the soil being, through frequent funerals, higher up the walls than formerly, so making the walls damp. Mr. Dennis Paul, of St. Ives, {89} caused much amusement among the Nonconformists present by saying in his speech that he quite agreed with the Vicar that the Church was rotten at the foundations, but in a different sense from what the Vicar meant. After a heavy poll, and every effort the Church party could make, the Nonconformists were victorious.
After a Church Rate Abolition Bill had been carried several times in the House of Commons, but always thrown out in the Lords, the measure at last became law. As it now stands (1896) it is remarkable that it is framed on the same lines as the town of Huntingdon had previously by mutual consent established it. Afterwards came the admittance of Nonconformists into the National Universities of Cambridge and Oxford. They were previously debarred because they were compelled to subscribe their assent to the 39 Articles, and had also to attend the College Chapel. Next came the right to bury, with service conducted by their own minister, in the Parish Churchyard (1880). So, step by step, have Nonconformists from, say, 1830 to 1896, fought and obtained a large measure of religious liberty from which they were formerly debarred.
The restoration and re-decoration of the Churches in this locality have nearly all been done since the compulsory rate was done away with, and the Church on the whole has been the greatest gainer. Quite recently the Church at Little Stukeley, between 1892 and 1896, has been restored at a cost of {90} about £1,000, a practical lesson as to what the voluntary principle can do.
As mentioned previously, I left school at 17 years of age, and went into the mill at Houghton, to learn the business of a corn miller. My hours were from 5 a.m. to 5 p.m. I was called at 4 o’clock, and if not in the mill at 5 was fined the same as the workmen. (The workmen’s hours were from 5 to 7, half an hour out for breakfast, one hour for dinner, and half an hour for tea). For 2½ to 3 years I was engaged “dressing” the mill-stones, a very tedious and monotonous work, but at that time very essential for a master to learn in order not to be dependent upon the men. Part of the time I acted as foreman; also as flour-dresser and grinder. When about 21 years of age, or a little before, my father sent me to Mr. Robt. Dixon’s mill at Wicham Bishops, Essex, in order to see a change in the art of milling. Afterwards I went to a Mr. Henry Hicks’, at Chelmsford, and while there to Messrs. Marriage, of Bloomfield Mills, Chelmsford. On leaving there, being in my 22nd year, I began to accompany Mr. Joseph Goodman, my father’s partner, to market, and occasionally went alone to one or two of the least important markets. In 1844, owing to the death of Mr. Goodman, I began to take a very active part in the management of the business. My father, after going round with me to the London bakers once, began to send me alone occasionally, and very soon he and I went alternate journeys; that is, my father, and I with him, would call on the bakers, and the {91} next time I would go alone, until very soon I generally went, and my father only occasionally. It may be interesting in the future for me to record how my business-time was occupied at this period. Therefore I will describe a fortnight, all other fortnights being the same.
Monday morning by coach to London (1844—1845). On arrival, to Mark Lane. Monday evening to tea with my relative, Mr. Joseph Sterry, in the Borough. After tea to an outlying customer in the New Cut, Lambeth, then to my hotel, “The Green Dragon,” Bishopsgate. Tuesday morning: Bishopsgate, Curtain Road, Shoreditch, Hackney Road, Commercial Road, Shadwell, the Minories, then to “The Green Dragon,” about one o’clock, to dinner. After dinner over London Bridge to Tooley Street, Bermondsey, and Dock Head; then off to St. George’s Church in the Boro’; along Union Street to Blackfriar’s Road, Waterloo Road, over Waterloo Bridge, to Clare Market, Long Acre, Seven Dials, to Oxford Street, and then would get on an omnibus (my first ride during the day), and go to my hotel. Wednesday: Take an omnibus to Edgware Road, make calls and get back to Mark Lane; then sometimes go home in the afternoon by coach, reaching Huntingdon at 10 or 11 p.m., according to the state of the roads. Thursday, to St. Neots; Friday, to March and Chatteris; Saturday, to Huntingdon Market. Monday in the next week to St. Ives Mar-{92}ket, Tuesday in the mill and posting the books; Wednesday to Ramsey; Friday to Chatteris; Saturday to Huntingdon Market. So it will be seen I was kept well employed, as during this time I also looked after the manufacture of the flour in addition. The above was the routine with the exception of an occasional holiday, especially to go skating when there was ice.
Between 1849 and 1850 I was occasionally urging my father to build a mill, as I felt no security as to the tenure of the Houghton Mill, under Lady Sparrow, as, to say the least, I was in politics no less Radical than my father, and was also quite as strong a Nonconformist. His reply was, “Leave well alone; I have done well in business up to now, and sons will sometimes launch out in business and lose the father’s savings.” But though he said this, he had, with characteristic forethought, bought a site, on which the St. Ives Mill now stands. Soon after he was ejected from the farm.
In 1853 my father decided to build the mill at St. Ives. He had previously (in 1846) gone over to France to inspect the French mode of manufacture and had become acquainted with Messrs. Darblay, the large French millers, and also with Messrs. Feray, the engineers, who had erected Messrs. Darblay’s mill, and finally decided to employ Messrs. Feray to erect, or, rather, make the machinery for the St. Ives Mill, the steam engines being built by Messrs. Hall, of Dartford, Kent (who were also the {93} manufacturers of sporting gunpowder). The French mills were automatic; that is, when you shot the wheat out of the farmer’s sack into a deep chamber, at the top of the mill, it was not handled any more until it was shovelled out of the flour-chamber into the sacks.
On the old system the wheat, after passing through the cleansing machine, was delivered into sacks, then sent up by the sack tackle, and shot into a chamber over the stones; then, when ground, was delivered into a trough, then was put into sacks, sent up by the sack tackle, and shot into a bin over the flour-dressing machines. On the automatic system all this labour was saved, as described above. At this time, 1854, there was, perhaps, only one corn mill automatically working in England, and the engineer who put in the machinery had, like my father, visited Messrs. Darblay’s mill. The mill was the City Mill, Blackfriar’s Bridge, London, and the engineer was Mr. Bovil, brother to the barrister, afterwards the judge.
It was quite a new departure for an Englishman to go to another country to obtain machinery, and the only unfavourable criticism that was ever made was the main machinery which drove the mill stones was too light for the work it had to do; but to show how contrary to fact that was, the mill was built to drive 12 pair of stones, four more pair were added, making 16, and yet {94} this machinery never broke or became strained.
The building the mill became a success, mainly owing to adopting the system of dressing the flour through a slowly-revolving silk mill, instead of a wire cylinder, with six or eight fast revolving brushes inside. The flour was so superior to other millers’ flour it obtained a large demand at remunerative prices, and for several years we had a difficulty at times to supply the flour fast enough to meet the demand.
About 1862 my father and myself had a conversation about the desirability of erecting a mill at Huntingdon, in order to strengthen both the Nonconformists and the Liberal party in the County town. We should not have increased our business merely for the sake of increasing our money, and we were perfectly aware that, from a commercial point of view, London or some other large port would have been the place to build another mill, but our main object was as above stated, so the mill was built and opened in 1863, when I left St. Ives and removed to Huntingdon. A circumstance took place in connection with my hiring a house, which shows how the Tory party had been used to exercise arbitrary power in the town. I hired the house where Mr. Sweeting now lives (1896) of Mr. Charles Sweeting, who, I believe, acted on account of his niece, Miss Sweeting. We agreed for rent, etc., and Mr. Sweeting put the matter into a lawyer’s hands to be drawn up. A week or {95} so afterwards, Mr. Toller, our cashier, who had been in Huntingdon, said to me on his return, “I thought you had hired Mr. Sweeting’s house.” I said, “So I have.” Mr. Toller said, “Why, there is a fresh notice put up on the shutters to say the house is to be let.” On the following Monday I called on Mr. Sweeting at his residence in London, and only stated this new notice was put up. Mark, I said nothing more; but he understood what it meant, and exclaimed, “Mr. — does not want you to come into the town to live; but I mean you to have the house, and I shall take the drawing up of the agreement out of Mr. Blank’s hands and place it in another agent’s,” which he did.
This confirmed what Mr. Foster had said, “The Tory party in the town will not knock you down with a sledge-hammer; you are too powerful for that; but they will try to beat you by diplomacy.” He might have said trickery!
After getting into the town to reside, the first thing that occurred showed how I was to be (to use a modern term) “boycotted.” A vacancy happened in the Local Government Board, and my political friends, without consulting me, nominated me to fill the vacancy. When the Board refused to elect me of course they were within their rights, but it showed which way the wind blew.
In consequence of the above action, and being fully persuaded that if I wished to hold any public office I should have to fight {96} for it, in connection with Mr. Charles Veasey, and the Liberal party in the town generally, we decided in the following November to fight for seats in the Town Council. Mr. Veasey that year was a retiring Councillor. I, with three others, was nominated. The struggle was a severe one; the Tories, with the then Lord Sandwich at their back, put out all their strength, and the means employed were not creditable to either party. The result was, Mr. Veasey retained his seat by a very small majority, and I failed to get in by five votes.
An incident occurred which was to be regretted. Lord Sandwich walked across the Market Hill, through the crowd, to vote, when a working man knocked his billy-cock hat off. His Lordship, by the advice of his agent, took steps to summon him for assault, and the man would have been sat upon, but Mr. Henry Goodman put himself in communication with the man, saying, “It was very wrong of you to knock his Lordship’s hat off; you must apologise. If the apology is not accepted, then I will provide Counsel to defend you.” The man sent the apology; it was not accepted, and Counsel was provided for the man’s defence. Then better thoughts prevailed, for, upon reflection, the Earl’s advisers remembered he would have to appear in Court and be cross-questioned, when something not very creditable to his Lordship would come out, viz., that just before the election he had given notice to all his allotment holders to quit, {97} and placed the re-letting of them in the hands of the Conservative candidates, so the prosecution was dropped like a hot chestnut.
Prior to the events just recorded, Lord Sandwich, on the advice of his agent, in order to neutralise the effect the mill might have, and to get control of the market, built a Corn Exchange in his own hotel yard (The Fountain), and would only let it for one year at a time, retaining the right at the end of every year to refuse to renew the ticket of any one ticket-holder. We, Brown and Goodman, considered that this was aimed at us, so we decided that, as we now had a right to stand on the Hill, which might lapse if we left and went into the Corn Exchange for a year, and we might fall between two stools, not to go into the Exchange, but continue to buy on the Hill.
Over this affair a public dinner was given to Lord Sandwich and a number of farmers signed “a round robin” that they would not show us any corn on the Hill. We maintained our position, and now (1896) the Exchange for some years has ceased to be used as a Corn Market.
The year following the Municipal Contest, the late Mr. Desboro said to me one day, “There is a vacancy in the Town Council. Are they going to let you in?” I said, “Not this time.” He replied, “You had better take some friend with you to the Town Clerk.” I replied, “Will you go?” and he went, and in the interview told the Clerk {98} that if I were not allowed to go in Mr. D would vote for me, and ask his dependents to do the same. This settled the matter, and so I became a member of the Town Council.
On my having a printed book of oaths put before me, which oaths every Town Councillor was required to take, one was to the effect that I would do nothing to the injury of the Established Church. I replied that I was not required to take that, upon which the Town Clerk, who ought to have been impartial, most improperly, I think, said, “Then you intend doing something prejudicial to the Church?” I replied, “I object to take it on the ground that the law does not require me to take it, as it has been repealed.” The Town Clerk, though a lawyer, was ignorant of the fact. The next time the book was produced for someone to take the oath, that particular oath was crossed out.
In 1871 I was elected Mayor, Mr. Foster, surgeon, having previously been elected to that office; he, I think, being the first Nonconformist Mayor since Cromwell’s time. I would here remark that one piece of injustice was redressed which we had in view of getting removed when we selected Huntingdon as the place to erect the mill.
I gave the usual banquet at my residence, and, towards the close of dinner, one of the guests, Mr. Foreman, received and read a telegram to say that Mr. Thomas Baring, the Borough Member, was dead. So an {99} election came on at the commencement of my year of office. Sir John Karslake was the Conservative candidate, and Mr. Arthur Arnold, the present Chairman of the London County Council (1896), the Liberal. There had not been a serious contest for many years. Being Mayor, I was strictly neutral, of course. Mr. Arnold was defeated, but he fought a good fight, and learnt much about the local politics and ways of going-on of the Tory party.