Memoirs of Sir Wemyss Reid 1842-1885

c Nonconformists-Another Colliery Explosion: A Story of Heroism-An Abortive Fenian Raid at Chester-Reminiscences of the Prince of Wales's Visits t

o the fact that old friends of mine were already employed on the Mercury staff, through whom I speedily made a number of acquaintances among the townspeople. But I think that the sense of being at home which I acquired so soon was chiefly due to the character of the inhabitants of Leeds. Whatever may be the case now, at that time the Leeds people were typical representatives of the best characteristics of Yorkshire. They were frank, outspoken, warm-hearted, and hospitable. They were not, indeed, so refined in speech as they might have been, and to

him as does the knowledge that by means of his pen he is influencing the thoughts, and winning the affections, of some at least of that vast unknown public whom it is his duty to address. A sheet of paper is but a flimsy thing, yet, as a rule, when used by the journalist it cuts off the electric current of sympathy which passes between speaker and auditor when they are visible to each oth

ptive writer than appears to be the case at present. Russell, of the Times, the illustrious "pen of the war," furnished the model for descriptive journalism in the 'sixties. There was none of that slap-dash statement of bare facts, embellished by the more or less impertinent personal impressions and opinions of the reporter, to which we have become accusto

writing at Preston; I liked it (though my preference was for descriptive writing), and it was not long before I found that I had got into the regular leader-writer's stride. I was barely four-and-twenty, and I had, therefore, a consuming sense of the value of my lucubrations and the importance of my opinions. It is emphatically true, as Sir William Harcourt once wrote to me, that "Youth is the age of Wegotism." When I wielded tha

come a daily paper until long after this change in its character was expected by the public, simply because an ordinary daily newspaper entailed a certain amount of Sunday work upon those engaged in producing it. It was not until the proprietors had satisfied themselves that it would be possible to produce a Monday morning's newspaper, and at the same time to keep the office closed from midnight on Saturday till midnight on Sunday, that they resolved to publish daily. The arrangement was costly; it was vastly inconvenient to everybody concerned. I am afraid that it did not conduce to the keeping of the Sabbath, seeing that the compositors, who were not allowed to enter the office until midnight of that day, we

myself, I hurried to the sub-editor's room, and, sitting at a corner of a table upon which I laid my watch, dashed off my precious article at the top of my speed. When I began my practice as a leader-writer I took from an hour and a half to two hours to write my fifteen hundred words; but, under the pressure of that terrible half-past one o'clock train, I gradually improved my pace, until at last, if I took more than an hour in the production of an article, I felt dissatisfied. Mere speed in writing is a very small accomplishment. It is not necessarily a virtue, and it may even be a vice; but it is u

, with one melancholy exception. In the volume for 1745 the numbers of the paper published during the second Jacobite Rising are omitted. But in spite of this omission, these volumes, extending over so long a period, are of immense value and interest. In its earliest days the Mercury, thoug

e young lady with ten thousand pounds to her dowry"? We are much more florid nowadays, but by no means so precise. The leader-writer did not spread himself abroad a hundred years ago. Indeed, soon after the Leeds Mercury gave up discussing the amiable weakness that it attributed to ladies with well-turned ankles, it ceased for a time to discuss anything at all. It was only in the beginning of the nineteenth century that it resumed its leading articles. But what leading articles

. Edward Baines, the first, was undoubtedly a man of great ability and remarkable character. Very soon after he began his humble work as a compositor in Leeds he attracted the attention not only of his employer, but of some of the gentry of the town. He was seen to be a person of uncommon intelligence, strict integrity, and distinct political sagacity. The Leeds Mercury, at the close of the eighteenth century, was still a mere news-sheet, professing no opinions of

where an eager crowd had gathered. Mounting upon this chair, Mr. Baines read the despatch announcing the great victory to his enthusiastic fellow townsmen. An earnest Liberal, he fought by the side of the Liberal leaders both with his pen and his tongue during the long struggle for Parliamentary Reform, and he was in due time rewarded by being elected to represent Leeds in the House of Commons. His may fairly be described as an ideal career. He gained friends, influence, wealth, in the town he had entered as a penniless workman. But

o propose him for the Speakership. The second son of the man who really founded the fortunes of the Leeds Mercury was, like his father, called Edward. He, too, attained distinction in the public service. From his youth he was his father's chief assistant in the editorship of the Mercury, and by his enterprise, sagacity, and fine abilities as a journalist he greatly extended the influence and reputation of the paper. As a boy he was present at the so-call

generous and cultured man, filled with enthusiasm for the public good, he succeeded during his Parliamentary career in winning the respect of the House, not only for himself personally, but for those Nonconformist and teetotal principles which Society, at that time, held in such low esteem. Strangely enough, this life-long advocate of temperance reform lost his seat in the General Election

on as was consistent with the performance of his duties in Parliament. While Tom Baines edited the paper, the management was in the hands of his uncle, Frederick Baines, a man for whom I retain to this day something of the affection and respect of a son for a father. The paper, it will be seen, was thus the exclusive possession of the Baines family. It represented the views to which they had clung so tenaciously from the first. It was the great organ of Nonconformity in the English Press, and it w

sport in any manner whatever. It would have been a good thing for the Englishman of to-day if, in this respect, their action, instead of being the exception, had been the rule among newspaper proprietors. The love of sport and of betting which has had so bad an effect upon the national charact

dually taking place on the British stage. But no arguments and no ridicule could move the sturdy old Nonconformist. I remember once pleading with him for some relaxation of this rule. He heard all I had to say with courteous attention, but when I had exhausted my stock of arguments he delivered himself as follows: "My dear Mr. Reid, I feel sure that you are quite sincere and conscientious in the views you hold, but you do not know the theatre as I do. I speak from personal experience when I say that both in itself and in its surroundings it is immoral and de

nation of the earth, but as a great instrument for good among the peoples of the world. It followed that, whilst the Mercury advocated advanced Liberal opinions on most domestic questions, it was always in foreign affairs the supporter of an enlightened and reasonable Imperialism, and on any question affecting international policy it resolutely refused to take the mere partisan point of view. I have dwelt at this length upon some of the characteristics of the Leeds Mercury and its proprietors when I first became acquainted with them because they had a great and abiding influence upon my own character and opinions. At Preston I had learned to sympathise with the democracy, and to believe ardently in the cause of

e accident at the Oaks Pit added to the grimness of the tragedy. When I reached the colliery a few hours after the explosion occurred I found that some two hundred of the men who had been working in it were known to have been killed, but that many more were believed to be still alive in the distant workings, and that a large rescue party had gone below to recover them. Having sent my last despatch to Leeds, I went to an inn at Barnsley to snatch a few hours of sleep before resuming work at daybreak. In the morning, as I was hastening back to the colliery to learn what progress had been made during the night, I suddenly saw a dense volum

ding which surmounted the pit. There was thus no means of descending the shaft, even if anyone had been courageous enough to do so. This renewed explosion was, I ought to say, almost unprecedented in the long story of colliery accidents. In a few minutes the wives and friends of the search party below came thronging around us with agonised inquiries as to the safety of those whom they loved. For a time all was c

but no answering sound came from the depths of the pit, and sadly we came to the conclusion that all had perished. The signal man was dragged back from his post of peril, and we were consulting eagerly as to the next step to be taken, when a third explosion suddenly took place, shaking the platform on which we stood, and covering us with fragments of burning wood. Several of us were slightly hurt, but no one sustained any serious injury. The painful fact that was forced upon us, however, by this new explosion was that nothing could for the present be

e which was the ordinary means of descent had, as I have already explained, been destroyed, whilst the pit-sides had been torn by the successive explosions, so that they were in a highly dangerous state. But undaunted by these difficulties and dangers, Jeffcock carried out his heroic task. Summoning assistance, he caused himself to be lowered at the end of a rope to the bottom of the shaft. Heaven only knows what were the terrors and dangers of that descent. He faced them all unflinchingly. At the bottom of the pit he discovered not any member of the search party, for they had all suc

on to meet them. I saw that a train which left Leeds late in the evening would land me at Chester an hour or so after midnight, and I at once made up my mind to take it. When I reached Chester all was quiet at the station, and there were no signs of a Fenian rising. I asked the chief official on duty if he knew anything about the affair. All he could tell me was that

speaking in low but earnest tones. I made my way to one of the small crowds, and, joining it, tried to hear what it was that the speaker in the middle was saying; but instantly a strange thing happened. The crowd fell apart, melted away into the gloom, and I suddenly found myself standing alone. Thrice did I thus attempt to learn what was passing in these mysterious groups, and every time the result was the same. I

come to Chester from every quarter, Liverpool, Manchester, and Stafford having each contributed a contingent. But few had come by rail, most having entered the city on foot. What it all signified the police declared they could not understand, though they had no doubt that it had meant mischief. At five o'clock I returned to the station, and saw

for the moment his story was that which was generally believed, and I had to submit to the suspicion of having allowed myself to be befooled. Not until more than twelve months later was the truth revealed. It came out in the course of the trial of certain Fenian prisoners that there really had been a plot to seize, not Chester Castle, but the arms it contained. The conspirators knew that the guard in the Castle was very weak. They hoped to get into the place by stratagem, and to seize the contents of the armoury. Then they meant to capture a train, and, having destroyed the telegraph wires, to carry their booty to Holyhead, where they expected to find a steamer which would land them in Ireland. It w

age had visited that beautiful valley before. It was Sunday, and the whole population seemed to have turned out to see the train, in which the heir to the throne travelled, fly past them. Everywhere it was greeted with the waving of hats and handkerchiefs; but I saw one old man, apparently an agricultural labourer, who was not content with uncovering his head when the train went by. Reverently he sank down upon his knees, and remained in that position un

e. "He surely cannot be stopping there?" I told him that this was not the case, and that he had already preceded us along that very road. "Impossible!" retorted the schoolmaster. "I've been on this road ever since the morning, and I can assure you that his Royal Highness has not passed this way." "Did you not see a small omnibus pass," I asked, "with some luggage on the roof?" The schoolmaster's companion, who was younger, admitt

r Royal Highnesses, and he had specially furnished certain rooms in his stately abode for their use. He gave a polite intimation that he would be glad to see one representative of the Press of the United Kingdom, in order that he might show him these apartments, with a view to their being prope

ed up chairs in order that I might satisfy myself of the solidity of their construction, and he expatiated upon the beauties of curtains, window-hangings, and carpets in periods as sonorous as any with which he had thrilled the House of Lords. I frankly confess that I was astounded, and not a little shocked. I could see that the Great Man was disappointed at my somewhat stolid reception of a florid eloquence of which George Robins, the auctione

at having been brought about by the action of the Adullamites, so-called, under the leadership of Lord Grosvenor and Mr. Lowe. John Bright, to use a phrase that has since become historic, "took off his coat" at the end of that session, and went to the country with the avowed determination of raising such a movement in favour of Parliamentary Reform that even the Tory Government, which was now in office under the Premiership of Lord Derby, woul

rms. Nothing could have been more impressive as a demonstration of national feeling than these wonderful gatherings, so vast, so resolute in their bearing, and yet so orderly. They made even Ministers feel that the time had passed for trifling with the question of Reform. The Government were compelled to yield, and, as everybody knows, the session of 1867 witnessed the passing of the Household Suffrage Act. But by far the most important factor in each of these successive gatherings was the evening meeting that followed the open-air demonstration. At thi

l party-intrigues which did not cease until the day of his final retirement nearly thirty years later-had begun. Bright treated them with characteristic contempt. He inveighed with all his force against the men who were going about declaring that Mr. Gladstone was unfit to be the leader of the party, and, with that accent of withering scorn which was one of his most fo

e, the glimmerings of the dawn of a new and a better day for the country and the people that he loved so well." It was with this peroration still ringing in my ears that I hurried from the meeting to the telegraph office. I was palpitating with excitement under the influence of Bright's magic eloquence. Judge of my astonishment when I heard two worthy citizens of Glasgow who had just left the hall comment upon the speech in these words. First Citizen: "A varra disappointing speech!" Second Citizen: "Ou aye! He just canna speak at all." This extraordinary incident at least bears out what I said as to the

ion of peaceful and law-abiding householders. The Government, which had received its lesson in Hyde Park in the preceding summer, did nothing of the sort; but I believe that a good many houses and even shops in the West End were actually closed and barricaded by their perturbed and nervous proprietors. There was one notable and significant exception to this rule. Miss-now the Baroness-Burdett-Coutts not only did not close her house in Piccadilly, but assembled a party of friends at it, and, seated in the midst of them in the great bay-window overlooking Piccadilly, saluted in friendly fashion the great army of the unenfranchised as they passed along the road

iding with another reporter in a cab at the tail of the procession. The crowd, as we approached Lillie Bridge, was very dense, pressing upon us on all sides. Suddenly a hand was put in at the open window of the

well-known member for the Tower Hamlets, an advanced Radical, and a man who subsequently made himself notorious as a Minister of the Crown by his aggressive and unconciliatory utterances, was one of the speakers who followed Bright. He referred to the demonstration in front of Miss Burdett-Coutts's house on the previous day, and made some remarks comparing her with the Queen, who was just then in Scotland, by no means to the advantage of the latter. Bright's loyalty, which was strong and real, was outraged by Ayrton's language. In burning words, evidently born of genu