Recently I was struck by an alternative ‘Independence Day’ (in this case also 4th July) that occurred here in England right after the coronation of Queen Victoria in 1838.
Much has been written about child labour during the Victorian period. By far the most dangerous occupations involved employment in the mines. Children worked twelve hour shifts in cramped darkness and comprised a quarter of the workforce. A working man’s income didn’t provide enough to support a family, and so girls and boys both scratched a pittance pushing carts through tiny tunnels or operating trap doors for ventilation. Sometimes this involved sitting alone in darkness for the entire shift. Due to lack of room and movement, many suffered spinal deformities and other developmental issues. Often the door operators were aged seven or less and emaciated by malnutrition, both from poverty and a need to keep them from falling asleep with fatal consequences for the other workers.
At Huskar Pit in the West Rising of Yorkshire, 100 children worked underground alongside 70 colliers. After five days of unpaid leave for the coronation, many families were eager to resume work that Wednesday morning. They’d already been underground around nine hours when a devastating thunderstorm struck the nearby village of Silkstone near Barnsley. At Huskar, 50 children were 300ft below when the deluge burst streams and extinguished the winder engine’s boiler. The steward instructed everyone to remain at the bottom, until they could be winched out in small groups. 40 of the children decided to make for Huskar Drift, where a sloping mine seam opened at a day hole in Nabs Wood (still visible). One of the most feared mine accidents involved firedamp explosions – or methane gas combustion. Of the 40 kids who made for the drift, two brothers, Isaac and Abraham Wright (aged 12 and 8) had lost their father, John, to such a tragedy the previous year. Fearing a thunderclap might be a firedamp explosion, they accompanied their companions through a ventilation door and began climbing the 15 metres to daylight. What they couldn’t have known was that a swollen stream above had overflowed. It poured into the day hole, pinning the children against the trap door through which they’d just passed. Some scrabbled to safety in a nearby slit, but 26 youngsters between the ages of 7 and 17 (11 girls and 15 boys) drowned together. That included both the aforementioned Wright brothers and the mine steward’s son.
The bodies were removed to Throstle Hall Farm, and then transported by cart to homes across Silkstone, Dodworth and Thurgoland. Most households in those communities received one and sometimes more corpses, with siblings perishing together.
The children were buried in seven graves – 11 girls together in 3, and 15 boys in 4. A memorial listing the names and ages was erected in 1841 at All Saints churchyard in Silkstone. It stands to this day.
Such was the public outrage after news of the incident spread, it proved a major driver towards legislation that would eventually birth our modern British society. One in which anything resembling child labour or similar working conditions seems unthinkable. Those 26 innocent youngsters helped purchase ‘independence’ for generations of children to come, through paying the ultimate price. They never reached light and safety, but their legacy brought it to many who would come after.
I’m a great fan of folk musician and singer, Kate Rusby, who hails from a village near Silkstone. She recorded a song about the tragedy called ‘Halt the Wagons,’ sung from the perspective of one bereaved mother. Given my outline of events above, the lyrics will be self-explanatory.
I’ll include them below with a video of the song.
Much has been written about child labour during the Victorian period. By far the most dangerous occupations involved employment in the mines. Children worked twelve hour shifts in cramped darkness and comprised a quarter of the workforce. A working man’s income didn’t provide enough to support a family, and so girls and boys both scratched a pittance pushing carts through tiny tunnels or operating trap doors for ventilation. Sometimes this involved sitting alone in darkness for the entire shift. Due to lack of room and movement, many suffered spinal deformities and other developmental issues. Often the door operators were aged seven or less and emaciated by malnutrition, both from poverty and a need to keep them from falling asleep with fatal consequences for the other workers.
At Huskar Pit in the West Rising of Yorkshire, 100 children worked underground alongside 70 colliers. After five days of unpaid leave for the coronation, many families were eager to resume work that Wednesday morning. They’d already been underground around nine hours when a devastating thunderstorm struck the nearby village of Silkstone near Barnsley. At Huskar, 50 children were 300ft below when the deluge burst streams and extinguished the winder engine’s boiler. The steward instructed everyone to remain at the bottom, until they could be winched out in small groups. 40 of the children decided to make for Huskar Drift, where a sloping mine seam opened at a day hole in Nabs Wood (still visible). One of the most feared mine accidents involved firedamp explosions – or methane gas combustion. Of the 40 kids who made for the drift, two brothers, Isaac and Abraham Wright (aged 12 and 8) had lost their father, John, to such a tragedy the previous year. Fearing a thunderclap might be a firedamp explosion, they accompanied their companions through a ventilation door and began climbing the 15 metres to daylight. What they couldn’t have known was that a swollen stream above had overflowed. It poured into the day hole, pinning the children against the trap door through which they’d just passed. Some scrabbled to safety in a nearby slit, but 26 youngsters between the ages of 7 and 17 (11 girls and 15 boys) drowned together. That included both the aforementioned Wright brothers and the mine steward’s son.
The bodies were removed to Throstle Hall Farm, and then transported by cart to homes across Silkstone, Dodworth and Thurgoland. Most households in those communities received one and sometimes more corpses, with siblings perishing together.
The children were buried in seven graves – 11 girls together in 3, and 15 boys in 4. A memorial listing the names and ages was erected in 1841 at All Saints churchyard in Silkstone. It stands to this day.
Such was the public outrage after news of the incident spread, it proved a major driver towards legislation that would eventually birth our modern British society. One in which anything resembling child labour or similar working conditions seems unthinkable. Those 26 innocent youngsters helped purchase ‘independence’ for generations of children to come, through paying the ultimate price. They never reached light and safety, but their legacy brought it to many who would come after.
I’m a great fan of folk musician and singer, Kate Rusby, who hails from a village near Silkstone. She recorded a song about the tragedy called ‘Halt the Wagons,’ sung from the perspective of one bereaved mother. Given my outline of events above, the lyrics will be self-explanatory.
I’ll include them below with a video of the song.
Stop now, halt the wagons
It's too much for me to bear
To see my baby sleeping
In the cart lying there
Oh, take me, Lord, and keep me
Please don't leave me here
For I cannot keep breathing
He was all I held dear
Oh, hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
Hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
From the Black Horse there was silence
As the storm raged up above
So desperate was the tempest
To steal the one I love
Oh, nature sick with vengeance
As we carve up her tongue
Tiny arms around each other
Her work here done
Oh, hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
Hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
Children are the future
And children are a gift
But these are children of the darkness
With a twelve-hour shift
So take him, Lord, be gentle
With his tired, weary bones
Now I'm a mother of the darkness
For he'll never come home
Oh, we do not mine for riches
And we do not mine from love
But merely to keep the food on
Our tables above
So I'll dry up my tears now
Keep his soul in my heart ...
And call up the wagons
So the next shift can start
Oh, hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
Hush now, don't cry
As you hear my lullaby
Please hear my lullaby
Hear my lullaby
Hear my lullaby
Hear my lullaby
Hear my lullaby
