Marple and the Chartists 2

Marple

August, 1842

I was nervous as I stood outside the Ring o' Bells public house (pictured above). Lots of rough lads made rude gestures and remarks to me, but I tried to ignore them and stood there patiently until at twenty to eight, just before I was about to give up and go home, a young man arrived. He checked out my red hat, and went up and said politely, “You must be Eliza. Did Beth give you a message for me?”

I handed him the note, and then I smiled at him, because it was obvious to see what my sister found so attractive in this man. I guessed him to be in his early 20s and he had a very rugged build - no doubt enhanced by his work in the mines. He was nearly six feet tall, and had very dark, slightly curly hair, and the most attractive brown eyes, which when he smiled almost made me swoon. His face was not what you could call handsome, but it had such character and was so full of charisma that I immediately forgot any worries about him being a violent sort.

“Thanks for doing that. Maybe we’ll ask you to send notes back and forth again. Would you be willing to do that?”

“Yes, I would.” I said it so fervently it almost sounded like I was taking a vow.

He laughed, and then solemnly shook my hand and told me to run off home before I got in trouble with my mother.

As promised, I knocked on the door of the parsonage on the way home. Beth opened the door so quickly she must have been standing beside it waiting.

“I did it,” I said.

“Thank you. Here is your farthing, and I will give you the pearl on the chain tomorrow when I come home for Sunday dinner. How did he look?”

“He is so exciting. No wonder you have fallen for him, Beth. Do you think you will marry him?”

Beth blushed and laughed a bit nervously, “Much too soon to be thinking of that, but I wouldn’t say no, mind you.”

“I should like him for a brother-in-law.”

“Well, what ever you do, don’t tell Mamma and Pa about him, will you? And you best be off, and I will see you tomorrow, and thank you again.”

“He said there might be more notes that I can deliver.”

“Did he now? And did he give you one for me?”

“No, not this time, but perhaps I can go again tomorrow at the same time and he might have one then.”

Beth was pleased by my enthusiasm for the task. “No, best wait until I ask you again, but I’m glad you’re willing to do it for me.”

I slipped off home, and Mother said, “And where have you been?”

“I was talking to Beth, Mamma.”

“You shouldn’t be keeping her from her work. She will get into trouble with Reverend Fell and then where will she be?”

“No Mamma, I won’t keep her too long next time.”

“Well, best you get to bed. It won’t be long before another day comes. And you have Sunday School before church tomorrow remember.”

Our local school, All Saints, was just down the road, and had been running since 1839, but before that when I first started, my brothers and I had to travel some distance to school. We caught a lift on a cart with Henry Holmes each morning. The school cost our parents tupence a week for Andrew and me, but our older brother, Charlie, being in the top class had to pay threpence. Each year we had to take exams in the major subjects of reading, writing and arithmetic, and it was very important that we pass. The school was funded on a grant, which allowed so much money for each pupil, but if any of them failed their exams, half the individual’s grant had to be paid back. So the teachers were very determined to make sure the students passed. But also it was required that as well as going six days a week, each of the students had to go to Sunday School which was also held at the school, as it was only a short distance from there to the church. But we were not examined in religion, so the lessons took on a more leisurely aspect. Our teachers were the same for both, but as they were not paid for their Sunday work, they tended to take the sessions with a great deal of leniency, and sometimes the entire hour was spent with us just reading to ourselves, or out loud to the others from the Bible.

Our church, also called All Saints, had been built about 50 years ago by Samuel Oldknow, the proprietor of the biggest mill in the area, Mellor Mill, and it had balconies which ran around the sides. It has seating for 400, but many of the pews are reserved for the better off, and the front pew was for the Isherwood family of Marple Hall. The Wrights from Brabyns Hall also had their pew. Mainly the balcony spaces were reserved for the Mellor Mill apprentices, but also for those who were employed at Hollins Mill, 80 young men and women who had been imported to work there a few years back. They were required as part of their contract of work to attend the church. Come September, I had planned to see if I could get part time work at Hollins Mill and then just go to school for the afternoons.

There were churches of other denominations in Marple as well, the Methodists had their chapel beyond and there was a Quaker meeting house. The Catholics didn’t have their own church so they met in the house of one of their members in Marple Bridge.

I wasn’t all that interested in church going but knew it was a required part of my life. I spent much of the time at each service, being pleased that I had nothing much to do except sit and listen, although the church was very cold in winter, and even sitting could be uncomfortable under those conditions. But at the time of this story it was full summer, and a very hot one it was too. I couldn’t wait for the sermon to finally finish, and the last hymn to be sung, so we could get home to our family dinner. I had spent a few hours before Sunday school helping Mamma by preparing the vegetables. The stew had been put in the stove before we left for church, and I knew that a delicious smell would await us when we arrived home. And of course, Beth would be allowed home for her half day. She got one Sunday afternoon a month off, and every other Wednesday or Thursday, depending on the needs of her employer.

After the meal and the washing up were done, our brothers went out to play and our parents settled down for a quiet read by the fire. I hurried Beth into our shared bedroom, although Beth had not slept there more than a day a week for the last two years.

“Did you bring it?”

“Yes, I promised, didn’t I?”

“Let me put it on.”

“I’ll do it for you. Now, you must make sure it keeps out of sight so Mamma doesn’t start asking you questions about where it came from.”

“I will, I promise. But I will feel it and know it is there.”

“And you must give it back to me the next time I have a half day at home.”

“Oh, Beth, you promised me a week, and that won’t be a week.”

“Oh, all right then. You can keep it till my following day off, but you had better not lose it. Don’t be taking it off and on, just leave it as it is.”

“What did Johnny say when he gave it to you? Did he say he loves you?”

“Never you mind what he said or didn’t say. I didn’t offer to share my boyfriend with you, only his gift. As I told you before, he mostly talks about his ideals and all the things that are wrong in the world and how he wants to fight to make things better.”

“What is wrong that upsets him so?”

“Well I know that one of the main points that the Chartists are strong on is that young children should not be forced to work down the mines. The mines shouldn’t be allowed to hire them. There are children as young as nine that work up to 14 hours a day. They never will be able to learn to read and write. All they know is to work and sleep. And some of them become injured and many die young.”

“Mr. Clayton at Mellor Mill doesn’t employ children that young. They have to be between 10-14, and the ones from the Hollins Mill are all in their teens too. I don’t think things are so bad here as they are in other places perhaps.”

“That may well be, but Johnny says the Chartists must fight to make all the mills have the same regard. They shouldn’t employ children under 13 full time - and those from 10 to 12 should be released to go to school for a half day.”

“What are the Chartists going to do about it?”

“Well, I get the impression from what Johnny says that they plan to have a massive strike, a coordinated one all across the area, in Manchester, Hyde, Ashton, Macclesfield, Stockport and here of course. And they won’t let anybody break the strike and go to work.”

“Well, they won’t be paid unless they do go to work.”

“But if the employers are forced to do so, because of course they are losing money by not having any production during the strike, they will increase their wages, and listen to their demands.”

“You sound like you have been thoroughly converted to the Chartists yourself.”

“Well, it does make a lot of sense to me. We are very lucky. I have a good employer, and you are not forced to work yet. You can go to school and just help out a bit at home and have a normal life. But we need to stand up for and speak up for those who do not have it so good.”

“So will Johnny’s mine on Ludworth Moor be on strike soon then, and the mills?”

“I think they will if the Chartists have anything to say about it.”

“What are you two girls chattering about in here? Come out and be a bit sociable with your father and me. We hardly see you Beth. How are things going for you at work?”

And so we joined our parents in the front room, and the day progressed as normal, except I kept putting my fingers to my neck every so often just to make sure the pearl was still there safely hidden.