Marple and the Chartists 5

Marple

August-September 1842

The papers were full of information about Chartists activities, and because we were concerned about Johnny, Beth and I bought some newspapers over the weekend.

Here’s what they said.

Chartist demands came to a climax last week when a crowd of 12-20,000 gathered for the march to Manchester to "meet the Masters as the Masters would not meet them" and to stop all mills.

The military, under the command of Colonel Wemyss, were gathered to meet the procession of 480 men of the 60th Rifles, 150 on horseback from the Royal Dragoons and 50 men of the Royal Artillery.

The procession looked peaceful and respectful, led by a large number of decently dressed young women. However, unbeknown to the forces, small breakaway bodies from the procession were busy turning out the mills.

The procession was instructed to march through the city and return peacefully to their home towns. Many did so but the prime agitators became small, turbulent mobs rampaging through Manchester and Stockport stopping mills and taking money and bread from shopkeepers. Although the actual violence was perpetrated by small parties; chiefly youths of 16-19 years, large parties of working people looked on with satisfaction.

A huge meeting on 11 August at Granby Row fields listened to Chartist exhortations not to return to work until their demands were met. The military had to intervene to break up this meeting.

Agitators tried their best to spread the strike southwards. On 10 August, strikers from Hyde turned out all the mills at Dinting, Glossop and Tintwistle. The following day Stockport was taken by 6-8,000 men waving bludgeons and staves. Macclesfield and Congleton offered little resistance. There were a small number of incidents in other towns nearby such as Marple.

But as it didn’t name names of specific offenses committed in Stockport, we were no further forward in finding out what had happened to Johnny.

We also found this about our area in the Stockport Advertiser for the 8^thof August. Mellor is the next little town more or less connected to Marple.

 

Mellor Wakes

If anything can show an improvement in the sign of the times throughout this chapelry comprising of Mellor, Ludworth, Compstall Bridge and the neighbourhood it is the return of this feast. The butchers killed three or four times the usual quality of oxen and other meat and all tradesmen had to furnish similar amounts.

As Sun dawned crowds were seen flocking from their adjoining country on a wake visit to some relative of friend. During this and the following day private and public houses from the Shuttle Inn to the Tom and Gerry were filled and dancing and other species of amusement went merrily forward.

The streets and lanes were enthronged with lads and lasses, husband and wives, swings and cake stalls. In the evening of Monday there was a display of fireworks from Mr. Bathurst’s gardens to which visitors were admitted for a few pence, it was a perfect sample of Mellor Wake of olden times and for the enjoyment thereof the masters gave their servants an evening’s holiday.

Such a contrast, pleasant walks and parties followed by chaos and arrests.

On my first morning of real work, I ran through pouring rain to get to Marple Hall. It is always unpleasant walking in the streets after rain. The outhouses overflow and there is much to avoid stepping on in the roads. Also, droppings from the night-soil cart on its way to Nab Top Farm caused another smelly nuisance.

I didn’t see Mrs. Isherwood for the first part of the day. In my altered uniform which now fits quite well, I was instructed by Ann to dust all of the downstairs rooms, and when I had finished, I was to find her to get given my next chores.

It wasn’t nearly as much fun dusting on my own. I had enjoyed Old Eliza’s company and wished she were around to tell me more about the ghosts. And of course at sometime during the day I must speak to Mrs. Isherwood to see if she knew any more about Johnny.

The parlour seemed very dark. The rose patterned furnishing helped a bit to lighten the rather heavy effect of the dark paneling. The carved oak bedding chest and writing desk were also of very dark wood. A crystal bowl was filled with roses and stood on a small table. I was very careful as I moved it to dust underneath. Heaven only knows what it might be worth.

The dining room had a large carved sideboard flanked by two matching cupboards which took up almost the whole of one wall. I had to stand on a chair to reach the edges and handles of the cupboards, but was careful to place a paper under my feet so as not to scratch the chair top. There were oak panels, used as a room divider with holes carved into them as part of a pattern, which I very much liked the look of, and I had to be careful to get all the dust from inside the round circles.

On the opposite wall the large windows overlooked the terrace and I could see a huge copper beach tree and a glimpse of green hills in the background. A tapestry almost covered the wall opposite the fireplace. The scene on it represented the different processes of winemaking with a border of flowers, with such beautiful colours. There’s a similar piece in the Library which represents the Harvest. I enjoyed looking at them, but Ann came in and saw me gazing and told me that I wasn’t paid to view the furniture and fittings.

I dusted the edges of the huge paintings. I presumed the main ancestors on the wall the ones with ruffs around their necks were Henry Bradshawe and his wife Mary.

Again I had to stand on a chair to reach the top paneling on the massive oak door that was the main entrance to the Hall. How I wished I had the time to ask about all of these things, but perhaps a chance would come at dinner in the kitchen.

Shortly after eleven, Mrs. Isherwood found me and asked me to come to see her in the parlour. “It is not good news about Johnny, I am afraid, Eliza. He seems to have been the leader of a demonstration in Stockport with the strikers breaking into the workhouse at Shaw Heath, where they seized bread and money and several people were hurt. I have been told that he has been sent to the prison at Chester Castle. I think they intend to try all the Chartist agitators at the same time but it might not be for many months yet.”

“Do you think my sister could write to him in the prison?”

“I don’t see why she shouldn’t try. Tell her to address it to the Chester Castle Prison. I don’t know if we can do anything to help him, because I somehow feel responsible for him being there. If I hadn’t stopped the men who were coming to Marple Hall, he most likely would not have gone to Stockport and got mixed up with those more radical men.”

“Oh, Mrs. Isherwood, you cannot in any way be to blame. If anyone should feel guilty it is me. I am the one who told you his name.”

“I forced it out of you Eliza. Remember that, and don’t feel guilty. I still feel that I did the right thing, and so did you, even though others, like Johnny, perhaps are paying in a way that makes us feel uncomfortable. Now you best get back to your dusting.”

“I so much enjoy dusting your beautiful possessions, Mrs. Isherwood, but I would like to know more of their history. Perhaps someone sometime could tell me about them?”

“You curious child. I am hiring you to clean for me and you expect me to give you a history lesson as part of your payment. Well, since you are here, I will answer one question.”

“Will you tell me about the tapestries?”

“They are Flemish - Flanders was a medieval state that encompassed parts of what are now Belgium and Northern France. Flemish tapestry is one of the most luxurious and painstaking textile traditions in the world. With tapestry a pattern or pictorial scene has been hand woven into the textile. The foundation of it is known as the warp, and is usually made of linen or wool. The design is formed by the weft, different coloured strands of yarn, such as wool or silk, that are woven through the warp until it is entirely covered.

“The area around Ypres grew much flax which was used in making linen, also an industry that they were well known for.

“During the Middle Ages the art was practised in monasteries. European tapestries of the 13th century frequently featured oriental designs brought back by the Crusaders.

“Flanders had several main towns which dealt with weaving tapestries - Bruges, Lille, Lergeues and Arras in Artois. Many of those places are now considered to be in France or Belgium, but at that time, it was a region on its own. The weavers depended on England for their wool, because the damp island that it is, it produced excellent fine wool, but England lacked the skilled craftsmen to make the finest quality cloth. The Flemish cloth trade was at its height in the 14th and 15th centuries, and the Royal court set the pattern of decorating castles with hanging tapestries.

“When England was at war with France, which happened quite frequently, the Flemmish sided with England as they were linked in the wool trade.

“By the 18th century, Flanders had been reabsorbed into the nearby countries and the Flemish towns were no longer the leading cloth makers in Europe. And other countries could now successfully compete in terms of skilled craftsmen. Now get back to work and don’t think so much about what it is you are cleaning as to whether you are cleaning it properly.”

When I met with the other servants for lunch I was pleased to be able to sit next to my friend from last week, Old Eliza. “Please tell me more about the ghosts,” I whispered to her.

She laughed as she said, “The lady in the portrait in the front hall is Miss Esther Bradshawe. She died of a broken heart.”

“Why was she so unhappy?”

“Apparently during the early days of the Civil War a local Royalist soldier stopped by here to pay court to her his lady love, Esther Bradshawe.

“The Bradshawes were for Parliament of course but in those early days of the war there was no personal enmity between friends of different political persuasions. Unfortunately the young man mentioned that he was carrying documents for King Charles and after dinner Mrs. Bradshawe being curious, asked her maid to see what these documents contained.

“According to the legend they included information which would have condemned to death Henry, her husband, who was a Colonel in the Parliamentary Army. She asked her old manservant to cut the straps holding the dispatch bag as he led the Cavalier across the ford the next morning but the old man misunderstood and led the young soldier to a deep part of the River Goyt where he was drowned. Poor Esther saw the whole thing as she sat playing her lute at the bedroom window. The shock deranged her mind and she died of a broken heart. When the mere was drained some years ago a helmet, spurs and bridle of the period were found. They are upstairs. Esther is supposed to haunt the terrace playing her lute.”

“Have you ever seen or heard her?”

“Not I, but many have, so I have been told.”

After lunch I had to rush off to school, fearing that if I were late, my welcome would not be very pleasant.