truth; yet for nearly a whole generation it
never stopped these disturbances, erroneous as
they were. The man who thinks that these
troubles indicated no foregone misery and
wrong, would call a dying man's groans and
screams mere practical jokes.

The Yorkshire nature is staunch and dogged;
it was not going to bear starvation quietly,
while proud, arrogant, and often cruel
manufacturers were fattening on the very flesh and
blood of the workman and his pining children.
The poor man had borne the contemptuous
denial of his rights, the incessant suspension of
the laws of the land, trade monopolies, tyrannical,
stupid, and heartless governments, civil
and religious disabilities, and unjust and useless
wars; but dear bread—that was the last straw
that broke the camel's back. The artisan saw
only in the new machinery means to still further
enrich his oppressors and starve himself. When
the rich man can be weary of life, is it to be
wondered at that the poor man finds life sometimes
intolerable? The panacea seemed to be
combination. General Lud got recruits in Derbyshire,
Lancashire, Cheshire, Nottinghamshire,
and especially the south-western districts of
Yorkshire. There were food riots at Sheffield,
Mansfield, and Macclesfield. Food riots are as
certain a proof of something wrong in the body
politic, as certain pustules are proofs of smallpox.
The stocking-weavers in Nottinghamshire
began the bad work by holding nocturnal meetings,
by forming secret societies, by appointing
delegates and local "centres," by extracting
black mail from manufacturers, and requiring
implicit obedience in their adherents, after
administering an oath. From shattering frames, the
Yorkshire men began to talk of upsetting the
government. Religion was even pressed into
the rioters' service, and a crusading spirit
inculcated on those who joined the Luddites.
The disorders came to a head in 1812, partly
from the lenity shown to Luddite prisoners
at the Nottingham Assizes in March, and
more especially by the dreadful price which
provisions had then reached. The poor hardly ever
tasted nourishing flesh-making wheaten bread;
tea and coffee were almost unknown; clothing
was extravagantly dear; and the workman had
to gain strength for the twelve hours' toil in the
bad atmosphere of a mill, from a paltry meal of
porridge. All this was hard to bear even with
freedom; but it was intolerable in a country
where the intellect and conscience of the nation
were enslaved, and where the poor had no other
privilege than that of paying an undue share of
the taxes levied on them by an enormously
wealthy and tolerably selfish landed interest.

The riots soon overran the West Riding,
beginning at Marsden. After trying their
destructive powers on a small scale there, the frames
at Woodbottom and Ottiwells were marked out
for destruction, and the lives of their owners,
the Armitages and the Horsfalls, were threatened.
These gentlemen took prompt and energetic
measures for the protection of their property.
A bridge over the river at the Woodbottom Mill
had an iron gate placed across the centre which
could be securely fastened against all invaders.
It had iron spikes at the top, and a row of iron
spikes down each side. This bridge—with its
gateway and protecting spikes—remained in its
original integrity until a very recent day.

"At Ottiwells," adds a local authority, "at
the upper end of the road fronting the mill,
and on an elevation, level with the present dam,
a cannon was planted behind a wall pierced with
openings three feet high and ten inches wide.
Through these apertures, the cannon could be
pointed so as to command the entire frontage of
the mill, and fired upon an approaching enemy.
This somewhat primitive battery still exists, but
the artillery disappeared long ago; and though
now walled up, the outlines of the embrasures
formerly left for the cannon to be discharged
through, may yet be distinctly discerned. In
addition to these means of defence, the workmen
employed at the mills were armed, and
kept watch and ward during the night."

Mr. Horsfall, resolute and prompt, was not
to be easily frightened, and the Marsden
croppers were none of them Luddites. The
inhabitants of Marsden and the surrounding
villages were also compelled to deliver up all
fire-arms in their possession, until the reign of
terror should pass away.

There were also infantry and cavalry in
Marsden. The 10th King's Bays, the 15th
Hussars, and the Scotch Greys, were
alternately billeted (at quite inadequate rates) in
the town, impoverishing and sometimes ruining
the landlords, irritating the high-spirited,
oppressing the neutral, and contaminating the
whole neighbourhood. These regiments were
not allowed to remain long in one place, for
fear of the men becoming tainted with
Luddite opinions. The soldiers marched every
night to the market-place at Marsden, and,
having been paraded, were then told off into
two divisions, the one to patrol on the road to
Ottiwells and Valeside, and the other to spend
the night between Marsden, Woodbottom Mill,
and Lingards. As their movements were well
known, and the clash of their swords and the
tramp of their horses' feet were to be heard
at a long distance at night, it was easy for the
Luddites to steal away behind hedges, crouch
in plantations, or take by-roads to their work
of destruction. The cats had belled themselves
this time, and the mice could play as they liked.

On the 11th of April fire was set to the
gunpowder lying above the West Riding. On
that day, the croppers at Mr. Wood's mill
at Longroyd Bridge, near Huddersfield, were
planning a night attack on the mill of a Mr.
Cartwright, at Liversedge. The leading
conspirator was an impetuous cropper, named
George Mellor (twenty-two). His chief
lieutenants were Thomas Smith (twenty-three),
William Thorpe (twenty-two), and a mean
subtle fellow, afterwards an informer, Benjamin
Walker (twenty-five). Joshua Dickenson, a
cropper, came to the shop on the Saturday
before named, and brought a pint of powder, a bag