1817

Pentrich November 1817 

It’s all finally come to a full stop. It’s taken a while for me to realise what were bein’ planned. As yo know I were never one in t’middle, I just kept me ear t’ground.

Well, its gerrin on to December and I’m only just gerrin round to puttin me pen to paper. Whilst life went on, I suppose it allus does, Pentrich sempt a more miserable place and yo never saw more than one or two talking together.

Yo maybe dunna need to be teld but Jeremiah Brandreth, William Turner and Isaac Ludlam were all hanged and then be-headed on Friday 7th November in Derby. I didna go but I were told that they built a special wooden gallows in front of Derby Gaol. There were thousands a folk in Derby to see good men murdered by t’government and yo canna get mey to believe otherwise.

George Weightman’s sentence was the same as t’other three but it were found out he were not to be hanged but transported wi some of t’others. Nubdy really knew why. Wor it cos he were young or did he squeal a bit? There were rumours, as yo can imagine, but nowt were very clear. It were hard to imagine him goin’ against his family.

When t’papers eventually got to Pentrich we all wanted to know what were being sed and them as could read, like me, were in great demand to read em t’others. 

We were shocked when most o’news in papers wor about Prince a’Wale’s daughter, I think they called her Charlotte, she’d died in childbirth. Princess Charlotte Augusta of Wales was the only child of the Prince of Wales, and Caroline of Brunswick. If she’ad outlived both her grandfather King George III and her father, she woulda become Queen, but she died after childbirth at t’age of 21.

Charlotte's parents hated each other from before their arranged marriage and soon separated. Folks said as T’Prince of Wales left most of Charlotte's care to governesses and servants, but only let see with Caroline now and agin. That’s how t’posh folks lived.

It were not an unusual event when some poor baby didna mek its first bothday so I dunna think folks around us shed many tears.

Some went to prison and fourteen were to be sent to Australia. This bunch included me old mate Tom Bacon. I never got to see him but I imagine he’d find it hard as an old man – it fact th’oldest by far.

Quite a few younger men were let go wi a warning from t’judge to behave themsens in t’future. This is all very well but if men were left starvin’ and couldna feed their families, there’s allus goin’ to be trouble one sort or another, yo mark my words.

When them as went to Derby to see what happened drifted back they didna mek a song and dance abowt it. Wey all knew as there were some as had bin on t’march and never captured. But, to be ‘onest, there’d bin no specials or soldiers searching since end o’August. We call came to t’idea that they’d got who they wanted and that were it – the messages has been passed.

The village were in a state o’shock. One or two women and their kids moved in wi relatives and one family I knew flitted to Cromford seeking work wi Arkwright, he’d built a village for ‘is workers so they sed.

The White Horse were another sad quiet place and yo only found a few older men there except perhaps on Sunday naight when a few more younger men came to let off a bita steam. I’ve gotta say that I didna hear anybody talkin’ about revolution or marching. It sempt as though they’ learnt their lesson and that’s maybe what t’Government wanted. Nancy started a bit of a collection for some families as had lost their bread-winner but most folks ‘ad little to give. I suppose there were allus t’wokhouse and afew went there.

I really ought to say a little bit about t’Church and yo’d maybe a’thought as they’d abin generous. Well, and mind you I only got this from others as I didna go anywhere near, vicar were generous wi his warnings and chastising them as went on t’march but that wor it. Some woman told me that she asked vicar for bread and he’d told her that she ‘reaped what she sowed’. I know for a fact that she didna go ont’march and her husband, who were forced at gunpoint was in gaol.

Whilst I were maybe unkind t’vicar, Curate Wolstenholme were more concerned abowt folks – that were until he disappeared.

Just to end this bit, I ought to say that chapel folks found a little better welcome – but not too much. 

I hear as men as were to be transported were being shifted from Derby and Nottingham Gaols to get ready for t’convict ship. Yo can only imagine wot they felt, we’d hearda transportation afore and we all knew as nubdy ever came back so that were it. None of us had any idea what Australia were like – it doesna bear thinkin’ abowt.

As November went on one or two men, I’m not goin’ to name names, began to talk abowt t’rising. How all them men as were promised never turned up not even them as were to be ready on Nottingham. I remember old Tom tellin’ us how he knew that there were thousands ready in Manchester, Leicester and London. He telled us that t’soldiers had agreed not to leave their barracks and folks would join from all over t’country.

As it toned owt, there were no bugger, none at all. I think as all them as were arrested and prosecuted were Derbyshire men apart from Brandreth who were from Nottingham. I find it ‘ard to believe that men from two small villages, South Wingfield and Pentrich, wi a few more coulda done as much as they did and suffered as much as they are.

This isna t’end of it. Some are beginin’ to ask how them in power knew what were happenin’. Why didna soldiers arrest them waiting in Nottingham. I’ll tell thi why, becos there werena there. Somea us think they’d be warned off. It were only after trial had ended that some local lads began to think that there mighta bin a spy, some bugger informing on what Tom and t’others were planning. If there was, I only hope he’s not from round here or there’ll be hell to play and that’s a fact.

If folks do write about this saga, I hope they tell truth. I’ve tried to write what I saw and heard and not to add bits as weren’t true. It all started wi my friendship wi old Tom, It wor ‘im as taught me to read and write and I know for sure that Tom Bacon were a good man who cared abowt others.

Pentrich October 1817

It’s well past middle of October as I write and wey know mosta what’s ‘appened. All them as were held at Nottingham goal were dragged across to Derby and t’trial started on 15th October, it wor a Wednesday.

I decided to keyp out’a way. Nobody seemed to want to lock me up and that suited mey fine. I kept me ‘ead down. As I telled thee I nipped off from t’march as soon as I could. I could see it were goin’ to end in trouble. My opinion wor, for what it matters, that there were nobody to lead us, nobody to organise t’job. Nubdy knew Brandreth only by what some sed abowt ‘im. Wey knew he were a luddite and that he were a hothead. I canna understand why Tom agreed to ‘im coming to lead t’march. In fact, more I think abowt it maybe he didna bring ‘im. Perhaps them at Nottingham wanted to get rida Jeremiah Brandreth.

To be onest, folks in t’village aren’t saying a great deal. T’whole job didna go down well wi’Duke and them as were involved were expectin’ to be kicked out their houses, even if it were only women and kids that were left.

When yo went in t’White Orse it were quiet and Nancy were quick to quieten anyone who started saying wrong thing. Yo canna blame her, plenty o’Bacons and Weightman’s were in serious trouble.

To bey ‘onest, most folks expected lots more to be hanged, they really did. When they dished out hangin’ jobs it were only Brandreth, Isaac Ludlam, William Turner and George Weightman. Mind yo, that were bad enough for men as wor only wanting a fair deal.

Yo’da thought there mighta bin some parading or demonstratin’ but no, it weren’t like that.

Bits’a news came back wi them as went to Derby but many stayed away, like mey. It turned owt that the’d got them as they wanted and that wor it. Wey were told as judge stopped newspapers from reportin’ details through trial so didna know t’detail.

One thing I did find owt were that Owd Tom Bacon had hid away just before t’march started and didna go on it. I’m really surprised as he’d bin t’one who’d gone on abowt a rising for donkeys. Wey got to know that he’d bin locked up and were one’a them as were on trial. Everybody expected that he’d be hung up an dried. But afore end of October we got to know that he were to be transported down under wi a dozen or more others.

Wey found out that t’hangin’s were to be early November. Nobody I knew wanted to go. Who wants to watch some bugger you know being strung up and craved to bits – all for tryin’ to feed their families. I dunna know what more to write down, it must be ‘orrible sat in a gaol waiting to die.

One or twice bitsa news found its wey to Pentrich or Wingfield during October it were like whole area were under a big dark cloud. Soldiers had stopped their searches some time ago, it seems, as I sed afore, that they’d got all they wanted and that likes’a mey were little fish.

Some lads as had been in gaol were released and came back into villages. They’d bin released with a bollickin’ from t’judge. He told ‘em to not listen to man as would take them astray. That they should live sober and religious lives and be a credit to society – whatever that means. He finished by tellin’ to go home and sin no more. To bey ‘onest, most didna think that tryin’ to get a reasonable livin’ were ever a sin. Mind yo nobody were keen to shout this around and abowt.

Some young men as come back were sacked by Jessops and several left Derbyshire, especially them as hadna got wives and kids.

Local vicar came in White ‘Orse one night, and that were a shock on its own, he told us that t’Prince Regent had decided to move hangin’ sentence from George Weightman and he were to be transported for life wi Tom Bacon and o’t’others. He told us that th’sentences for Brandreth, Isaac Ludlam and William Turner had been changed. Them as were listenin’, bowt doxen or fifeteen cocked up their ears at this.

He sed that they were sentenced by t’judge to be hanged, beheaded, drawn and quartered. Wey all knew what that meant. Anyroad, he told us that t’Prince had decided that they wouldna be drawn and quartered but just hanged and beheaded.

Well, yo can imagine that this caused a bit o’a shock.

“Say that agin,” somebody piped up, “does tha mean they’re not goin’ to be executed?”

“Well, no,” sed t’vicar, “it means they will be hanged and beheaded but their bodies will not be cut up.”

One relative, I’m not goin’ to write ‘is name, sed, “What a loada crap that is. They’ll be dead just t’bloody same. What’s t’point in that.”

“It might be more of a comfort for their family,” the vicar offered an explanation.

Yo can imagine that there were lota sed after that and it’s no good ramblin’ on any further.

The whole business seems to get wos, it really does. I’ve no more to sey now, no more than meks any sense in this strange world.

Pentrich September 1817

It’s around middle o’September and nubdy knows what bin goin’ on. There’d bin nowt worth readin’ in t’papers. Wey know as there’s a jail full o’men in Nottingham and another in Derby. We’ve heard as them in Derby were put on bread and water by Lockett. I mighta mentioned Lockett he’s t’solicitor who seems to hate every bugger and I think it woks t’other way as well, anyroad that’s wot they say. 

I dunna know as anybody went to visit them in jail. I’da liked to a seen Old Tom but Nancy told me to keep outa way – so I did.

It were as nubdy talked about march in White Horse. The only thing yo ‘eard were “Ay yo ‘eard owt?” “Not a bloody dickie bird, ow abowt thee?” was the usual reply. 

Them as hadna bin involved kept on in same way as afore and, to be honest, some as ad bin involved kept their gobs shut and went on same way as afore. It were all a bit like that. There were one or two cottages in Pentrich who had their man in jail and one or two o’t’other women took to giving some bread or maybe a chicken if they’d one to spare or even a rabbit if one o’t’lads could catch one. 

All men as worked at Butterley went on as afore. I dunna think there were any Butterley men on t’march, I never saw any at t’meetings. Thing was that they’d bin paid well. A few ‘ad bin laid off after t’war ended but they were allus busy. There were one or two who’d woked there afore t’march but had left or bin sacked, a bit like Owd Tom was.

One night there were a couple of South Wingfield lads in t’White Horse who were suppin’ a bit too much ale. I sat in t’corner wi some mates and we could see their tongues were runnin’ away wi thersens, if yo knows war I mean.

“It seem bloody strange to me,” opened up on o’the men, “as far as wey knows there’s no Nottingham men in jail at Derby or Nottingham. But there’s plenty from Wingfield and from ‘ere in Pentrich.” 

“That’s raight,” piped in t’other man, “Does tha think we were set up or summut?” He look round the room. I knew there were a few who had been on t’march; at least for an hour or two afore they ran off. 

One of t’Bacon lads joined in, “Maybe, but wey canna prove owt, yo knows that.”

The first man turned round to t’Bacon lad, “Wor abowt that bloke called William Stephens? He came here and Wingfield wi Owd Tom weeks ago. Where was he when all t’trouble were on. Why was it none of them so-called Nottingham Radicals never turned up to help out when t’soliders arrived?” 

T’second man, joined in “Did he know they were going to get caught, think abowt it.” 

“Now then!” said Nancy, who’d bin watching this from behind t’bar. “yo maybe raight and yo maybe wrong but there’s lot’s a’us has  as men folk locked waitin’ for we dunna know what. If tha’s no prove this sorta talk does no bugger any good.” 

“Come and ay a free jar afore you get ‘om. There’s no hard feelins’ but yo never know who’s listenin’.” The men obviously knew Nancy by reputation and were not goin’ to go against ‘er. They got their free drink and sat down mumblin’ to each other. 

Nancy knows a lot more than she ever says and it sempt to me that she thought more than she said and, anyroad, it were not like her to give beer away. Wey all felt as times were strange, very strange. 

From time to time there bits a news. F’instance, we heard that Jeremiah Brandreth, who’d took over from Owd Tom on t’march, ad bin caught tryin’ to get outta t’country.

Someone who wor a church warden told Nancy as specials had grabbed young George Weightman at Sheffield. And, he was at t’family ‘ouse of Wolstenholmes, same family as t’Pentrich curate. 

It were also common knowledge as there were spies abowt and a lot of young men from th’area had bin taken to give depositions – that’s like their story of wot ‘appened. 

I’ve already telled thee abowt them as were hanged in Derby last month, for burning Colonel Halton’s hay ricks. Anyroad, this left a nasty feelin’ and yo got t’fellin’ as they were after any bugger from Wingfield or Pentrich. 

While I’m tryin’ to tell thee wot were ‘appenin’, it’s all a waitin’ game. If you look at the Wingfield lads who ad bin’ hanged a few weeks after t’job, this affair sempt to be hangin’ on forever. Nubdy in t’village knew wot they were waitin’ for. There were wives wi starving kids wanted to know, one or two had even left their cottages to live with family as they couldna afford t’rent. 

It’ll soon be October and I dunna know when there’s goin’ to be a trial.

Pentrich August 1817

It’s middle a’August and we’ve just heard that Old Tom has been caught in a village called St Ives in Huntingdonshire, I’m not too sure where that is but he were got wi his brother John. It were said that there were a struggle and a constable got a bang on th’head. It musta bin John as I’ve never known Tom as a fighter.

There’d bin some posters around offering one hundred guineas for information and arrest of Tom.  I can’t understand why cos e were never on t’march. Anyroad it were big money and I could see how a poor working man would be tempted.

It were rumoured that them as were in Derby Jail were treated badly and it were all Lockett’s fault – he’s the Derby Solicitor who seems to be running t’job. They were said to be on bread and water and packed in together.

Anyroad, stories were beginning to come out though nubdy were speaking to strangers. Ma Hepworth’s servant, who lived wi‘er and her sons down Buckland Hollow had bin shot. Some said it were Brandreth who shot him point blank, some said it were an accident. I suppose only them as were there knew and they were either in jail or keeping their gobs tight shut.

There’d bin another thing that took place around t’middle o’August and that were four local lads had bin hanged at Derby for setting fire to Colonel Halton’s hayricks just down t’road at South Wingfield. Wey all knew who these lads were, their names was George Booth, John Brown, Tom Jackson and John King and they were local lads.

It were said that they were poor and shorta food and were disgusted at wot Halton had got stored away.

Somebody had a copy of t’Derby Mercury and when it were left around t’pub I took it and copied it into me notes.

It went on to say that . . .

. . . the men sturdily asserted their innocence to the end, although all four were found guilty ‘on the most satisfactory evidence’ and the judge made it clear to them that there was no hope of mercy because of ‘the heinous nature of their crime’ . . .

I dunna know what heinous means but wey ar’talking abowt a pile o’hay not somebody’s house. It all seempt outa shape and harsh.

When folks did talk abowt this in t’village – and it weren’t very often – they didna hold owt much hope for them poor sods locked up in jail after t’march. We expected t’worst and this dinna help.

Towards end of t’month things quietened down abit, there were no soldiers around and I suppose they’d got all the men they wanted. I’m thinkin’ wor it just a wasta time.

I imagine they’d dragged Old Tom back to Derby but nobody told me and I dunna know anybody who went to see any of t’ prisoners.

Pentrich were full o’rumours abowt who’d done what, who’d bin threatened and who press-ganged others to march. It were said that some folks had made money owta naming men who’d bin marching. Mind you, as soon as we heard that Tom had bin taken, local offcials seemd to lose interest – it were as though they’d got what they wanted and that were that. The word round were that all o’them in jail would be hanged – especially after they’d hanged four for burning some hay.

Reverend Wolstenholme were still at Pentrich church despite rumours that he’d hid some men after t’march. Not being a church-goer I didna see much of ‘im but I do know that most folks spoke well of ‘im. He went inta White Horse now and again often sat in a corner talkin’ to Nanny, t’landlady.

There’s not a great deal more to put in me notes as th’whole job seems to be waiting for a trial and it should be soon. We knew that them as marched in Yorkshire had bin let off light at court, or so folks said. Mind you, that didna lighten the load in and around Pentrich.

I ought to say summut abowt Nanny Weightman who was still running t’White ‘oss. There were several Weightman’s in jail and when yo went for a pint yo could see empty chairs where t’Weightman’s usually sat. We knew as some men were special constables, including some from Butterley, so it were best to keep quiet. Ma Weightman never said owt abowt it, not to me anyhow. I thought that she’d be angry, we all knew she could be, but she sempt to be quieter than normal, I suppose she were worried and I dunna blame her.

As far as I could tell nubdy made any effort to dig out or have a go at them suspected of being informers – I thought that some family members woulda done but after t’hangings, it were clear as t’court meant business.

I’ll let yo know what ‘appens next month. We are all tryin’ to ger on wi life and them wi families are still tryin’ to mek ends meet. T’weather’s still wet and cold and nubdy expects a good crop this year.

Pentrich July 1817

I could tell from me uncle’s manner that it was time I’d better be gerring’ back hom. I’d bin ‘ere for a couple of weeks and kept me ‘ead down. I could see as he were as poor as frame knitters back hom and even just one more mouth meks a difference in t’costa food. 

I did walk back to Ripley one day and found abit abowt what ‘appened after I left t’march. There were some soldiers and special constables around Ripley so I didna stay long. I ‘ad a jar at t’Cock Inn wi an old mate and they wer all on abowt it. Yo can imagine there were different tales. Anyroad, after I’d run off, cos that’s wor I did, most o’em marched to Ripley, then to Codnor and Eastwood. They said they were abowt 100 strong when on t’road t' Nottingham they ran in t’Hussars. Them as wasna captured ran off and yo canna blame ‘em. Some sed that shots were fired and some sed not. I ‘eard as it were quiet now and there’d bin no more trouble except t’military picking a few men up. As soon as it got dusk I set off back to ‘eanor, keepin’ offa main track. 

Uncle Isaac had bin t’pub a couple of night ago and come back wi a ‘andful of newspaper bits. There were pieces from Derby Mercury and some from Nottingham Courier. E’d also bin talkin’ to his mates. There’d bin some talk abowt t’Pentrich Rising but it sempt to Isaac that ‘eanor folks was wanting to keep owta it. I fact, I didna know of any ‘eanor men in t’rising, they were mostly locals from Pentrich and Wingfield, one or two from Ripley. 

These papers said that there’d bin 48 men taken prisoner by t’Hussars – I bet I coulda named some of ‘em, maybe some of me family. It said there were 20 in Nottingham Prison and 28 in Derby. T’paper sed there were 200 when they were set on by t’Hussars yet most in Ripley sed it were more like 100. 

I told Uncle Isaac that’d I be goin’ back tomorrow and we shared a jug a’ale while I looked through them newspaper agen. I forgot to tell thee that Isaac couldna read so I ad t’read ‘em to ‘im. I got t’feelin’ that he would be pleased to see backa me. 

One piece that bothered me were that t’paper said that local farmers, wi’out exception, ‘ad gen t’troops utmost assistance despite abusive language from t’marchers. I dunna know if this wer’ raight.

Next morning, I set off back t’ Pentrich wi a few bits a food aunty May ‘ad gen me. I got back abowt dinner time. I checked me little cottage were alraight and went to t’White ‘oss. I wanted to find out what were ‘appening and I wanted to find Owd Tom. 

T’village were quiet, it were odd. I asked Nancy for a juga ale. As she filled me pot from her jug, I said to ‘er, “What’s ‘appening, as tha seen T . . .” and that’s as far as I got. She bent over t’bar and put her mouth right by me ‘ear. She whipered, “Tha knows nowt lad, keep thee mouth closed and say nowt to no bugger.” I could tell by her face when she pulled back that she meant it good and proper. She nodded to t’back o’pub and I could see a couple a’men I thought were from Butterley, maybe specials. There were one or two in t’pub but none o’me mates. I finished me pot and left, I thought it best, Nancy’s not a lady yo argues wi. 

I walked owta pub and turned towards me cottage when a big ‘and pulled me down a gennel, it were Nancy. “I’ll tell thee wot I know about Tom as I know you’re ‘is friend, but keep it to theesen. Tom didna go on t’march, it dunna matter why, he hid in Booth’s hovel over there behind t’village, but he’s not there now, he’s on th’run, I dunna know where.” 

“Can I do owt?”, is all I think to say. 

“I dunna know, there’s troops searching for some and best thing seems to know nowt and that’s wot I’m doin’. Try to do what tha’ normally does. Don’t stop comin’ t’pub it looks bad. There’s goin’ to be trial and, who knows wot.”

She disappeared back in t’pub and left me in a spin. I began to feel bad as I walked hom, should I stopped at Butterley, should I a’gone after ‘em. It were too late now. I resolved to tek Nancy’s advice and I remembered summat Tom told me, I mighta told thee at some time. It were ‘ear all, see all and say nowt”. 

I gotta ‘ear abowt some as were arrested during June and July, there were even rumours that some as ‘ad bin on t’march ‘ad turned and made depositions naming names. 

Strangest thing were that Pentrich Village began to empty. I knew that some men were in prison and wives had gone wi their kids to their families. Some that adna bin arrested just seemed to disappear leaving their families behind. I noticed on Sundays that more folks than usual went to t’church in Pentrich. Prior t’march, church goers were gerrin’ less and less, folks even talked abowt it. I thought that, perhaps, some as weren’t involved wanted to show a good face. 

One or two posters appeared offerin’ money for information, some even named Thomas Bacon as a ringleader. I wonder where he’s gone. 

It were general knowledge that the big man, Brandreth had bin arrested and were in prison. It were sed that both jails in Derby and Nottingham were full to t’top. I’m pleased I’m not there and, to be ‘onest, nubdy seems interested in me. I dunna know whether I should keep writin’ me notes. I dunna want wrong person to find ‘em. 

I’ve decided that I’m goin’ to try and I’ll let thee know wot ‘appens.

Pentrich June 1817

Well, I dunna know where to start this month and that’s a fact, I’m stopping with me uncle Isaac at ‘eanor. I dunna know if I mentioned ‘im afore, he’s me old dad’s brother. He lives in a cottage between ‘eanor and Tagg ‘ill and he does framework knitting like many round ‘ere. I never saw much of ‘im for years but I were desperate, I didna know where to go.

It all ‘appened just ‘ower a week ago. Yo know they’ve bin planning’ a march for some time, well it were finally all go. I got to know abowt it in early June and most o’lads my age were expected to go, yo didna ay a lot a’choice. It all went wrong we’in a day. It were a raight cockup. Now, there’s soldiers and special constables everywhere locking up men left, raight and centre. That’s why I fled to ‘eanor.

I betta go back to start. They’d bin meeting in a barn in Wingfield and setting out plans for last week or two, mind yo they didna invite me.

Anyhow, the main thing were that just afore t’march were to kick off I found out that Owd Tom Bacon ‘ad gone missing. No bugger knew where he was. Well I say that but I’m sure his sister Nancy at White ‘Oss woulda known they were allus thick as thieves.

I told you we’d bin sent out to draw up a list of farmers wi guns and if they had any servants we could persuade to join t’march. I knew that they’d stored a load o’pikes in t’quarry at Wingfield. It were all decided.

I were told that a man called Brandreth had bin set up at t’White Oss and that there were meetings all day in Sunday, that’d be 8th June. Everybody were expected to get there at some time. When I went it were early afternoon an’ there were loads there, some I’d never seen afore. There were even a couple who’d bin sworn in as special constables sitting’ in t’corner, these were Shirley Asbury and Anthony Martin. That werra surprise; I recall Tom tellin’ me they were not to be trusted.

To mek things even worse, it adna stopped raining for days, everywhere were sludged up. Carts ‘ad carved up tracks deep enough to lose thee boots in.

Anyhow, I still expected to see Tom Bacon turn up at t’last minute but he were nowhere to be seen. Nor did anyone say owt about Tom to me, this after he’d bin top dog for years.

There were a lotta talkin’ and middlin’ o’drinking. William Turner told me to be at White ‘Oss tomorrow night, early on; that’d be Monday. He then told me to clear off and keep me head down.

Next morning, I noticed that Pentrich village were very quiet, quieter than on a normal day; there were nubdy knockin’ about and it were still rainin’. I turned up at pub later on and were told to tag on t’team being led by this man named Brandreth.  He told me that as I were one of t’youngest, I were to be a runner to pass any messages between ‘im and t’other groups. I didna need any weapon.

When we set off there were around a ‘undred on us. We went through fields and past Coburn Quarry where they picked up a few pikes that had bin hidden. I’ve gotta tell thee that I were excited – I’d never done owt like this afore.

We then marched through Wingfield Park, called at a’couple o’farm houses and then we got to Ma Hepworth’s farm down Buckland Hollow. I knew Ma Hepworth to look at but I’ve never spoke to her, I think she knew me man and dad.

I were stood at t’back and I could see Brandreth bangin’ on t’door. I could ‘ere a voice shouting from inside and several men were shoutin’ back. Then some went one way and others went t’other way round t’farmouse. I stopped where I was, it were all gerrin’ a bit nasty.

After a couple o’minutes I heard a gunshot to me left. It were strange as everything went still for a bit and somebody broke the silence, “Captain’s shot somebody inside.” It were clear nubdy knew what to do. Brandreth came round from back, he looked a bit weird, sorta unsure what to do next.

“OK lads, form up let’s get on wi it.” An that’s what we all did.

“’As somebody bin shot?” I asked them around me. One of older men turned round to me, “Keep thee gob shout lad tha’s heard nowt and ta’s sin nowt, keep it like that.”

We marched on along Buckland Hollow.

“Thee, lad,” shouted Brandreth, lookin’ at me, “double off to Swanwick, see who yo can find and then get back to me at Butterley, be sharp about it.”

“OK,” I said, I could feel messen shakin’.

“And,” Brandreth whispered, “Tha’ seen nowt and heard nowt, gottit!”

That’s t’second time I’d heard that.

I set off through fields toward Pentrich, past White ‘Oss and then I doubled across towards Swanwick. It didna tek me long, I’d grown up in them fields.

When I got to Swanwick I were surprised to see none a’marchers around. I saw an old women scrapping about in ‘er front garden. “Yo’ve missed ‘em, they’ve all got down through Swanwick Wood, they’ll be as far as Codnor bi now.”

I decided to go down turnpike from Swanwick to Butterley gatehouse. I ducked down behind t’gatehouse, I didna feel like anserin’ questions. I soon got to Butterley, just in time to Brandreth turn his men round at set off towards Ripley.

I ran past t’line to catch up wi Brandreth and as I did I passed entrance to t’works where George Goodwin were stood wi a few of his men. I mighta told thee that I’ve done some buildin’ work for ‘im.

Mr Goodwin, he were manager, spotted me straight way, “Get thee sen home lad, “he shouted, “this silliness is nowt to do wi thee.” He grabbed mi shoulder and I looked at ‘im eye to eye. “Tha’s got a trade and a future, get the sen in here.” As he sed this he pushed me through the gate into the little office. I dunna think any o’marchers saw this as they were tramping through t’sludge towards Butterley Hill.

Mr Goodwin told one of his men to watch me as he shut t’office door. To be honest, I were shiverin’, wet through and frightened to death. I were in no mood to chase up wi’ t’marchers. Were they goin’ to come back me?

I’m not goin’ to write anymore this month just in case some bugger finds me notes.

Pentrich May 1817

I were never part of th’inner circle in t’Hamden Club so I didna allus get to know what were bubblin’, but I could tell that things were hottin’ up by t’middle o’May when I set abowt writing me notes. There was Hampden Club meetings at White ‘orse most weeks and Owd Tom started meetings in a barn in South Wingfield with t’Ludlam’s, Walters and one or two more. Yo cudna help but notice one or two strangers coming into t’village and, often as not, being met wi Tom. It were clear that they planned sommat serious and it some ow got owt they were going to march on London.

It were funny that folks in t’village didna talk abowt things as much as yo might imagine – but they all seempt to know what were going on. It were a funny feeling as folks expectin’ to be expecting a storm or summat like that. I didna go to church, I’d no parents to send me, but some did say that t’crowd at church were gerrin’ thinner each week. Somebody said that t’vicar knew summat were afoot and told folks to keep out of it. Mind you, he were never short a’food and drink.

A few days ago, I were told to go to one particular meeting at White ‘orse when there were about twenty lads from Pentrich, Swanwick and South Wingfield there. We were all given job o’wandering around th’area and draw up a list of all farmers who had guns and also any farm labourers living in. They made no bones abowt it, they were going to take firearms on their march and also as many men as they could. Mind yo they didna tell us how to find out – I weren’t goin’ to walk up t’farm door and ask. Wey had to be careful cos, whilst it were a bad year, most farmers were doing alright. They were no near as poorly off as frame knitters so it seems as though they dunna want to know abowt marching to London.

Tom let slip that some in South Wingfield were mekkin’ pikes and storin’ ‘em in a quarry at bottom of village.

Most o’stockingers were only working part-time and they were struggling for work and food – that were obvious. I noticed that they often tried to repair their own roofs or build walls on their own rather than get me to do it for em. Mind you I allus managed to get work – I thank me old dad for teachin’ me summat useful.

One night I were sat wi Tom takin’ a beer when he suddenly turned to face me direct. “Tha knows you’re expected to go on t’march lad and there’s no backin’ owt.” I looked at Tom a little puzzled, he continued, “There’ll be bother for them as dunna go when it comes to reckoning.”

“It looks as tho I aint got much of a choice, Tom.”

“Aint yo excited about it lad?”

“No, Tom I’m aint, I’ve never bin to Nottingham let alone London. I canna see any good comin’ owt if it, and that’s a fact.”

Tom gave me a funny look, “Well, we plan to march onto Nottingham fost and then eventually to London. Wey know that there’s thousands who’ll be joinin’ us as t’march gathers strength. I’ve bin to a meetin’ in Nottingam and its all agreed. Remember, keep it to theesen, unless its one o’lads tha’s speakin’ to. And, dunna forget, that the crafty bugger Colonel Walton ‘as set up spies everywhere, even in Pentrich!”

Tom Bacon was collecting monies in t’pub in order to get to meetings, he musta bin using mail coaches, I dunna think he’d ger on a ‘oss. I were allus surprised as folk, who adna got a lot, dipped into their pockets. I wonder if their wives knew! It was clear to see who dropped first coins into t’pot and that were Tom’s sister, White ‘orse landlady, Nancy Weightman

There were a rumour going around that a man called Gravenor Henson had bin locked up in Nottingham. He were stockinger’s trade union man and, according to all accounts, well thought of. I know that Tom knew ‘im. I wondered if t’magistrates knew summat.

Another bit a news came from Tom when he’s bin to a meeting in Wakefield. Apparently there’s a group going to rise up and then joint us to get on to London. There were a lot ready in Manchester but they’d bin put off by many o’their leaders being still in gaol after t’march they call ‘Blanketeers’ were stopped a few weeks back somewhere at top o’Derbyshire.

I remember gerrin into a discussion wi a chap in t’pub one naight. He were tellin’ others about t’difference between them as as loads a’money and them as dunna. He said the t’government were made up of aristocrats, land-owners and bishops and that they didna let any from lower classes get to talk to them and tell ‘em how it were like to be starvin’ and out a’work. He said that only way were to rise up, break their doors down and go an tell ’em what it were really like.

One old man, a church warden, were sittin’ in t’corner, “It’s alraight tha comin’ ‘ere tellin’ us what ta do and gerrin’ us to risk our necks, I suppose tha lives well in town.”

“Well,” said the stranger, “I dunna want to cause yo any worries but yo know as well as I do that things is gerrin’ wos. I come from Manchester and I’m ere to see Mester Bacon but I’m told he’s away. I probably passed goin’ t’other way to Manchester. I’m goin’ back in t’mornin’.”

That sorta stopped the chat and folks drifted ‘ome. As we walked down village one or two said they thought he were perhaps a spy. All I know is that he didna look poor in his clothes. When Tom came back after a couple o’days he said he’d no idea who it might a’bin. Yo ay to mek up your own mind as to whether that’s raight or not.

Anyhow, I’m sure I’ll ay summat to write abowt next month. Sun might shine, it hasna shined much this year so far.

Pentrich April 1817

Whilst we’re waiting for spring, and its not stopped raining yet, yo get t’feelin’ that some things are t’same and some are changin’. Tom’s still talkin’ about his trip to London in January and meeting all t’delegates from Manchester, Nottingham, Birmingham and all over. If he’s not spending his naights cutch-mudgin’ with old Ludlam and a few others, cadgin’ money for his trips then he’s nowhere to be seen. He gets abowt for an old man.

Frame knitters are moaning about lack of good trade and being forced to do bad work with bigger machines. Farmers canna get to set crops cos it’s rained for ages and folks at Butterley are still being laid off after t’war ending. Worst’a all is that everything costs more – food, grain, building stuff. Me, well I’m finding bits and bobs to repair but it’s a blessin’ I dunna employ anybody – I couldna afford to pay ‘em.

Most folks got to know abowt Blanket March and how many got thesens locked up. Somebody brought a newspaper into t’pub about a new law called The Seditious Meetings Act that made it illegal to hold a meeting of more than 50 people. It came a law in March and some said it were to stop any more Blanket Marches and reform meetings.

The law banned all meetings of more than 50 people – and I copied the bits into me notes – ‘for the purpose...of deliberating upon any grievance, in church or state," unless the meeting had been summoned by an authorised official, or sufficient notice was provided by its organizers. In the latter (I dunna know what this word means) case, the organizers were required at least five days prior to the meeting to either publicly advertise in a newspaper the time, place and purpose the event, or submit a notice to a clerk of the peace. The advertisement or notice needed to be signed by seven local persons, and a copy was to be forwarded to a justice of the peace. Justices of the peace, sheriffs and other officials were authorised to attend any meetings held within their jurisdictions. In the event that the meeting was found to be unlawful, they could order its participants to disperse. Anyone who ignored such an order was to be found guilty of a felony without benefit of clergy and put to death.’

Yo read it and think that it’s not much until yo arrive at th’end – put to death. It seems that t’government were really after anybody who wants to protest. Yo can imagine it caused a lotta talk in White ‘Ose. Some are really gerrin’ wound up.

Mind yo, I’ve never seen anywhere near to 50 at our Hampden Club in Pentrich.

The report rambled on with more bans but we did laugh at one bit were it said that it didna apply to Freemasons and Quakers – I’m not sure what they do but I dunna think they’re frame knitters or labourers. One o’lads said it meant cheap builders and ducks.

One o’frame knitters had took some goods to Nottingham and he were tellin’ us that the town were disturbed wi soldiers everywhere. Apparently there’d bin some executions at th’end of March and troubles were expected. He said that some of the trial witnesses were known to be old Luddites who’d turned informers – probably to save their necks.

There were a secret Hampden Club at t’White ‘Orse last week. Tom and Nancy Weightman were particular as to who got in. Tom told us that he knew there were secret meeting in Nottingham and Derby but also in Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Sheffield, Wakefield, Huddersfield and, he thinks, in London as well. He also said, wi a bit a pride, that he’d bin to quite a few hissen.

We knew about Blanket March, as I telled thee, but what we didna know was that there was a big rising planned in Manchester on Sunday night 30th March. Tom said there’d bin meetings and, it were thought that they were got in by spies. On 28th March several key men were arrested, including a man called Samuel Bamford who Tom Bacon knew pretty well. Well, as yo can imagine, as some o’leaders were in jail t’whole job fell through. Apparently, a notorious magistrate by t’name of Mr. Hay had spies everywhere and knew all that were going on.

Tom told us he were due to go to a meeting up there in a few days and hoped to get to know a bit more.

Mind you, Tom took his chance to remind us all that there were spies everywhere, even in places like Pentrich and South Wingfield and, wos of all, there’d be some who we knew and perhaps them as drink locally. This sempt to shock everybody and they all looked around.

After a minute or two, Tom said, “I’ll tell thee one other thing. Yo must be careful when yo see strangers, particularly if there’s a meeting. But,” and he peered around t’bar room, “them as might report on what we’re talking about might just as well be men yo know, dunna forget that.” He sat down and said no more.

Tom Bacon and the elder Ludlam sat in corner talking for quite a while.

Well, all that’s bin happenin’ over last couple months makes me wonder what’ll be next. I think the older men trust me but only to a point and they dunna tell me everything. Not even Owd Tom. It’s a bit worrying, yo dunna know who to really trust.

I don’t have a wife and kids and I can live on building jobs around local area so maybe they think I’m not gerrin; things as bad as most. Well they’d be true but that dusna mean I don’t know what they’re going through. Me last note this month is to scribble down that folks are gerrin’ serious. I really think sommat is afoot.

Pentrich March 1817

Around t’middle of March I went with Tom Bacon t’Peacock Inn at Oakerthorpe. Tom had to meet a man and he asked me to go along wi ‘im for company. I know he often went there to meet men who were travelling along t’turnpike from Manchester or Sheffield to Derby and, even one or two, on to London. I’ve bin to Derby but not London – I can’t see messen ever going.

Anyroad the bloke we met, I never knew his name, told us what had bin ‘appening in t’north. We sat in t’corner o’snug and Owd Tom bought the ale. Now that were summat that didna ‘appen very often – it must be serious, I thought to messen. This fella were about 40 years old and tall but skinny – he looked as though he could do wi a good meal.

I could tell Tom knew the man well and he said that I could be trusted. The Manchester man took a draft o’ale and began ‘is tale.

“Well I’ll tell thee all I know ‘though I weren’t there messen, around 9th or 10th March there were a meeting of knitters and weavers at St. Peter's Field, close to Manchester, folks said as it were as many as 6 or 7,000. They’d planned a march to London with each man to carry a blanket or overcoat, to sleep under. The plan were for t’marchers to set off in separate groups of ten or a dozen to save any trouble wi t’militia or magistrates. Every leader had a petition wi twenty names, askin’ t’Prince Regent to improve the Lancashire cotton trade.”

“Who set that up?” Tom asked, “Did they come this way, I’ve not heard owt about it?”

“Well, yo might ask,” continued our friend after another goodly draft o’ale. “T’plan were to give no cause for trouble, nubdy being armed and they were to tell anybody who asked that they were only after t’chance to make enough money to feed their families, simple as that.

Yo might imagine it didna go all to plan, in fact it were a disaster. Dragoon Guards broke up t’march and, to cut a long story short, all them who were seen as leaders were arrested, some at Ardwick and some at Stockport. I dunna know if any got into Derbyshire, although there’s bin a rumour that some did.

Tha knows Samuel Bamford.”

Tom nodded, “Ay, he were at big meeting in London in January, I’ve known him for a few years.”

“Well, he’d bin tellin’ folks it were a bad idea. But he still got hissen arrested and they’re all still locked up now.”

“It were decided as we ought to tell delegates what had ‘appened cos we didna know whether it would be in t’papers. I’m tellin’ thee then I’m off to Derby and Birmingham. Others is goin’ to Nottingham and Leicester.”

“It’s a bloody same, I did know that they’ve suspended habeas corpus[1] and they’re locking folks up for nowt. I hear as Grosvenor Henson, that knows ‘im, Nottingham Union man, he’s bin locked up so I heard.”

“I tell thee, Tom, we’re faighting a battle ‘ere. It’s not just frame-knitters and weavers, it’s bad conditions in t’mills and not a soul’s listening.”

“Eye, thats added to fact that we’re overrun with spies and informers. You have to keep you wits about you’sen. It’s particularly bad in Manchester as that evil bugger Joseph Nadin[2] has taken against anyone who talks about reform or just pressing for better pay. He’s a real bad ‘en, and that’s raight.”

Tom looked around t’pub and looked at me. “That knows there’s men here I don’t know. They might be traders but yo can never be sure. We found a couple of men from Butterley at our Hamden Club meeting t’other naight. They admitted they’d bin sworn in as Special Constables. One bloke threatened to push ‘em up chimney if they told on us, then he kicked ‘em out t’pub. I suppose that makes things wos. What can we do.”

We chattered a while longer when Tom and me set off back to Pentrich. We went back to White Horse for a night cap. There were one or two regulars so we passed t’news on.”

Folks had bin talkin’ about rising up but, to be ‘onest, I didn’t believe them. Yo know how men talk when they had a pot or two. But, as I sit watchin’ last bits o’me fire, I’m beginnin’ to see folks as serious. We’ve seen bits in t’newspapers and heard about riots in Nottingham and Tom had told us about men lobbin’ bricks at Prince Regent’s carriage in London. To mek things even wos it’s still raining and as bin all year.

I remember Tom showing me a old piece a paper he’d had for donkey’s years. It were a proclamation from King George, yo know that one that’s gone mad. He told that were why he didna write much down in case t’authorities found it.

As I write these notes, and I still dunna know what I’m goin’ to do wi ‘em, I must put down that I think that t’next few months are goin’ to be interesting, yo mark my words.

Any road, I’ve sat to write down the Proclamation from t’King in 1792, so thee beware. Sorry about me mistakes. Watch out there’s some words even I canna understand.

A Proclamation by King George III 21st May 1792

Whereas divers and seditious Writings have been printed, published and industriously dispersed, tending to excite Tumult and Disorder by endeavouring to raise groundless Jealousies and Discontents in the Minds of Our faithful and loving Subjects, respecting the Laws, and happy Constitution of Government, Civil and Religious, established in the Kingdom, and endeavouring to vilify and bring into Contempt the wise and wholesome Provisions made at the Time of the glorious Revolution, and since strengthened and confirmed by subsequent Laws, for the Preservation and Security of the Rights and Liberties of Our Faithful and Loving Subjects: And whereas divers Writings have also been printed, published, and industriously dispersed, recommending the said wicked and seditious Publications to the Attention of all Our faithful and loving Subjects: And Whereas We have also Reason to believe that Correspondences have been entered into with sundry Persons in Foreign Parts, with a View to forward the criminal and wicked Purposes above mentioned: and Whereas the Wealth, Happiness, and Prosperity of this Kingdom do, under Divine Providence, chiefly depend upon a due Submission to the Laws, a just Confidence in the Integrity and Wisdom of Parliament, and a Continuance that zealous Attachment to the Government and constitution of the Kingdom which has ever prevailed in the Minds of the People thereof; And whereas there is nothing which we earnestly desire, as to secure the Public Peace and Prosperity, and to preserve to all Our loving Subjects the full Enjoyment of their Rights and Liberties, both Religious and Civil: We therefore resolved, as far as in Us lies, to repress the wicked and seditious Practices aforesaid, and to deter all Persons from following so pernicious an Example, have, thought fit, by the Advice of Our Privy Council, to issue this Royal Proclamation, solemnly warning all Our loving Subjects, as they tender their own Happiness, and that of their posterity, to guard against all such Attempts which aim at the Subversion of all regular Government with this Kingdom, and which are inconsistent with the Peace and Order of Society; and earnestly exhorting them at all Times, and to the utmost of their Power, to avoid and discourage all Proceedings tending to produce Riots and Tumults; And We do strictly charge and command all our Magistrates in and throughout our Kingdom of Great Britain, that they do make diligent Enquiry in order to discover the Authors and Printers of such wicked and seditious Writings as aforesaid; and all others who shall disperse the same: And We do further charge and Command all our Sheriffs, Justices of the Peace, Chief Magistrates in our Cities, Boroughs, and Corporations and all our Officers and Magistrates throughout Our Kingdom of Great Britain, that they do, in their several and respective Stations, take the most immediate and effectual Care to supress and prevent Riots, Tumults, and other disorders, which may be attempted to be raised or made by any Person or Persons, which, on whatever pretext they may be grounded  are not only contrary to Law, but dangerous to the  most important Interests of this Kingdom; And We do further Require and Command all and every  Our Magistrates aforesaid that they do from Time to Time, transmit to One of Our Principal Secretaries of State, due and full Information of such Persons as shall be found offending as aforesaid, or in any Degree aiding or abetting therein, it being Our Determination, for the Preservation of the Peace and Happiness of our faithful and loving Subjects, to carry the Laws vigorously into Execution against such offenders as aforesaid.

Given at Our Court at the Queen’s House, the twenty0first Day of May, One thousand seven hundred and ninety-two, in the Thirty-second Year of Our Reign.

GOD SAVE THE KING.

[1] A writ of habeas corpus is a judicial mandate to a prison official ordering that an inmate be brought to the court so it can be determined whether or not that person is imprisoned lawfully and whether or not he should be released from custody. The government suspended the process during these troubled times.

[2] The Manchester authorities made Nadin their Deputy-Constable. Nadin soon developed a reputation for corruption, for example, he received money from most of the owners of brothels in Manchester. As well as arresting criminals,

Nadin was given responsibility of dealing with the growing social unrest in Manchester. In 1812 Nadin arrested thirty-eight weavers for political offences. Nadin was much hated by local radicals and they claimed that for twenty years he was the "real ruler of Manchester".

Pentrich February  1817

Yo couldna ger away from t’idea that things were gerrin’ more serious. It all affected folks in different ways. One or two were tryin’ to calm us down when t’others were gerrin’ excited. Yo gorra feelin’ that if some bugger blew a trumpet most o’men in t’village woulda followed em. Anyroad that’s war I think.

I adna seen Owd Tom for a few days until one night in t’White Horse. It wer obvious from t’start that he were fulla ‘is sen and had summat to tell us. I could tell that Tom were waiting until he ‘ad a big enough crowd – he kept lookin’ at t’door to see who were comin’ in.

Every now and agin they would call a night in t’pub a Hampden Club meetin’, this were one a them. Not that it wer much different from other naights but they waited until any strangers ‘ad gone. Mind you, we didna get many strangers at nightime.

Tom waited for a lull in t’noise and kicked off, “Tha all knows there’s bin summat bubblin’ for a few months. It’s gerrin’ to a point when you canna afford to live and especially for stockingers’. I’ve just bin to a big meetin’ in London – yo no doubt recall that I wer collectin’ a bit a money to help pay for t’coach trip.”

“I were invited as Derbyshire Delegate to a big meetin’ in t’Crown and Anchor in middle o’London. T’meetin’ were set up by Major Cartwright, yo’ve heard me talk on ‘im; he lives over Nottingham way. He sent a message about t’meetin’  few months ago.

Afore I tell thee about t’meetin’ I gorra tell thee about this place, Crown and Anchor. Set agen likes of t’White Horse in Pentrich, Cock Inn at Ripley  or t’Peacock Oakerthorpe, the Crown and Anchor is a different world, tha wouldna belive it.

I’ll gi thee an idea. Yo  walk into what they call a foyer, paved with stone and wi four big columns, ‘oldin’ up a gallery above. I wer told they could turn a big meal out for more than 500. There were carvings and two massive fireplaces framed with marble and wood. They had chains o’flowers, leaves and ribbons hung from t’walls. Yo couldna believe it, really.

Anyroad, enough o’that. Delegates travelled from across England, including Bristol, Norwich, Middleton, Lynn, Manchester, Lancashire, Liverpool, Nottingham and me from Pentrich. Major Cartwright stood in as the delegate for them as couldna mek it.

Before starting the meeting, the famous delegates from Westminster—Henry Hunt, William Cobbett and Mr Brooks—ceremoniously received ‘vouchers’ from each of the country delegates entitling them to represent the reformers of their towns. The representatives of the regional areas had bin assembled by Major Cartwright and Jones Burdett (brother of Sir Francis) as representatives of the Hampden Club. We were all there to form a network of reform groups, as intended by Major Cartwright to advance t’cause of parliamentary reform. I’ve gorra say I wer proud to bey there.

They had a lorra talk and, to be ‘onest, some when ower me head. They decided not to put the words Hampden Club on t’petition for parliament.”

Tom stopped talkin’ and looked round t’room like a bull overlookin’ his herd o’cows, tha noes as proud as a peacock. He eventually went on about reform and petitions but, as far I can recall nubdy said owt about revolutions or marches.

 “But”, Tom said as an ending, “we all know that we’ve got friends as is in t’same position as us and them that feel t’same way as wey do. Dunna forget that.”

I’ve not written everything wot ‘appened on that naight as I canna remember it all; there were quite a few words said as tha can imagine.

Abowt a wik later I were in t’White Horse when one o’Ludlams were talkin’ about a meetin’ he’d bin to in Nottingham. Apparently, there’d bin some hangin’s in Nottingham for framebreakin’, they still call em ‘Luddites’, and more in Loughborough. As far as I knew there’d not bin any framebreakin’ in our area for a while. Mind yo, it were a fact that stockingers were going through a rough time and had bin for a while. T’whole situation were bad, I think I’ve already told thee about last year’s bad harvest.

One thing that seems to a’changed was that t’men seemed to include me and trust me more than they did afor Christmas. I’m sure it were cos I know Owd Tom quite well. But there’s allus folks lookin’ for informers.

T’other day, old Tom had bin to Derby and come back wi a handful o’books. He said he wukd lend ‘em to them that could read. It were called “To the Journeymen and Labourers of England” and it were written by a man they called William Cobbett, I think I can recall Tom sayin’ he were at that London meetin’. Tom passed me a copy and asked me to read it and let ‘im know what I thought about it.

Well, I did read it, it took me all Sunday and there were lotsa words I didna know. But I copied a piece from t’front and I write for thee to read in case yo avna seen one afor.

“One the Cause of their personal Miseries; on the Measures that have produced that Cause; on the Remedies that some foolish, and some cruel and insolent, Men have proposed; and on the line of conduct on which Journeymen and Labourers ought to pursue in order to obtain effective Relief, and to assist in promoting the Tranquillity, and restoring the Happiness of their Country.”

Well, it’s all a bit deep. But I could see what he wer gerrin’ at. Mr Cobbett went on about price of corn, taxation after Waterloo and summat about a gold standard, I decided I would ask Tom about. As far I could see it went on about prices, taxation and corruption. I did read it all but as I said some I couldna understand but I did understand t’end bit and I write it here.

“I have no room, nor have I any desire, to appeal to your passions upon this occasion. I have laid before you, with all the clearness I am master of, the causes of our misery, the measures which have led to those causes, and I have pointed out what appears to me to be the only remedy—namely, a reform of the Commons’, or People’s House of Parliament. I exhort you to proceed in a peaceable and lawful manner, but at the same time, to proceed with zeal and resolution in the attainment of this object. If the skulkers will not join you, if the “decent fire-side” gentry still keep aloof, proceed by yourselves. Any man can draw up a petition, and any man can carry it up to London, with instructions to deliver it into trusty hands, to be presented whenever the House shall meet.”

Well, I’ve never bin so serious, I’m sorry if yo’re bored but I thought it worthwhile scribblin’ this down. What doest think?

Pentrich January 1817

After th’appenings at London in December, remember I told thee all abowt that, last time, the chat in White Horse seemed to change - by th’way I dunna know much more about t’riots in London as yet. We’ve not heard of any trials or hangings or owt like that.

Since frame-breaking were made a hanging job, Luddite troubles had gone quiet for a few years. It were brought home when seven Nottingham men were transported for life in 1812 everybody kept their heads down – I were only a kid at t’time but we were taught to say nowt.

We all knew of a few riots in Derby and Nottingham about wages and food prices but that didna really concern us in Pentrich although there sempt to be more folks short o’work. What I’m tryin’ to say is that men began to talk about disturbances and politics just recently, more than ever I could remember– yo often heard folks say things like “summat needs to be done” or “it’s goin’ to get wos afore it gets better” and all that.

Owd Tom Bacon had his contacts and he got to know about wot were ‘appenin’ around and abowt but he kept tellin’ folk to watch wot they were sayin’. He used to say “walls have ears!”. It took me a while to understand what he meant by this – then it suddenly dawned on me. Mind you, Tom did say that he’d heard that the troubles in December had been set up by government agents. I suppose we’ll get to know more soon. We all knew that local magistrates had them as would report things to him, it were Colonel Halton at Wingfield Manor who were allus keen to find out about our lot.

Anyroad, it were not uncommon to see strangers call in at t’village, usually to see Owd Tom. Yo could see em whisperin’ in t’corner o’White Horse, often wi some from South Wingfield, as likely or not wi Isaac Ludlam and William Turner in t’front. I never heard what they were on about.

Well, wor abowt December, weather o’er Christmas were a bit mixed, some snow but not too bad, yo could ger abowt but it weren’t much fun wokin’ outside. I managed to repair a few leaking roofs and a barn wi a door blown off.

As yo can imagine, there were a load o’ale drunk at White Horse ower Christmas and we even tried to play football on t’common but it were a farce in t’snow and sludge. We were remembering about t’weather in 1816[1] in t’pub one naight – nobody could remember a wos year, even th’old men. Spring were severely cold and it snowed as late as 7th June. There were no grass until end o’June. Autumn were very wet and th’harvest around t’county were bad. Up north, oats were not cut ‘till October and some couldna ger it all ‘oused. There were even some as left stacks in t’fields all winter[2]. Yo can imagine that everything got more expensive.

I got t’hear abowt one bit a’news yo might like. As tha knows I’m not a church man but I heard some talkin’ about a kafuffle in t’church when t’vicar had a go at them as were there. What happened wer that vicar were tellin’ his flock to say their prayers and when they did they should add a bit at t’end for a blessin’ for local landlord, Duke o’Devonshire and also His Majesty t’Prince Regent and, he added, for the poor sick King George. Well, yo can imagine that didna go down very well, there were grumblin’ and muttering and, so I were telled a few even walked out. Somebody said that t’vicar lost his place and brought service to a stop.

Mind yo, it weren’t all bad news for us, Pentrich Village blacksmith, Robert Briggs married a lass named Jane on 30th December[3] and that were as good a reason as any for a party. As folks ad bin mending things rather than buyin’ new, Robert had done well at ‘is forge and could afford a few beers for his mates! Its amazin’ ow many mates yo hav when there’s free ale to be ‘ad.

I better get down to me stories. Around t’middle of January, Owd Tom began tappin’ men up for money but he were a bit secretive as to wot he wanted t’money for. All he’d say wor that he ‘ad to go to London and he’d tell us all later on. Yo can realise that some were not too keen as they’d probably grabbed some coins out of ‘ouse-keepin’ pot to buy their ale.

It were a few days later when Tom decided to tell folks what he wor plannin’ to do in London and why he wanted money. He’d bin invited to a posh meetin’ wi all t’workers’ delegates from around t’country at a pub called Crown and Anchor in t’middle of London. I’ve never bin farther then Derby but I’m told London’s a big city with thousands o’people and palaces and the like. I did know that it were there that Parliament was and I’d heard em say that it were the plan to take a petition to Parliament asking for cheaper food. To be ‘onest, we all expected that after Waterloo we’d be better off not wos but that’s ow it turned out. But them as knew farming said that big landowners were really better off. I dunna know why them in t’pub even bother abowt this, as far as I can tell it’s allus bin like that and it’s not goin’ to alter.

Tom told me that they were tryin’ to get everybody to write their name on a big scroll askin’ for cheaper food and a fair price for their goods. I dunna know how much good it would be, even when Tom brought his papers in t’pub one naight to be signed, half t’men had to ask Tom to write their names and then they’d put a big cross by t’side on it.

I hope I can find out abowt what happened I’London when I get me papers owt agen.

[1] The main cause was the eruption in April 1815 of Mount Tambora, Sumbawa Island, Indonesia – the largest volcanic eruption in recorded history.

[2] As described in the diary of Sir Harry Fitzherbert for 1816.

[3] Phillimore’s Parish Registers Pentrich Village 1640 - 1837