“Hurry up, Richard!” Grace whispered as she pulled her twin brother by the arm through the narrow alleys of Nottingham. “I heard there’s going to be a secret Luddite meeting tonight that we simply must see!”
Richard carefully stepped over muddy puddles, trying not to soil his early 19th-century trousers. “Do you even know where you’re going?” he panted. “And keep your voice down or you’ll get us caught!”
“Is that them?” Richard asked quietly.
Grace nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She had read all about the secretive Luddites who were rampaging across England’s textile manufacturing regions, smashing mechanical knitting frames and looms that were threatening their livelihoods. To see them gathered here felt like a front-row seat to history.
The twins lingered in the shadows, straining to overhear the men’s conversation.
“Best wait until full dark before the others get here,” one man grunted.
“Can’t be too careful with them damned militia patrols lurkin’ about,” another replied.
Grace glanced anxiously at the setting sun before stepping forward into the laneway. “Excuse me gentlemen!” she called brightly. The men swung around, startled. “I wonder if you might help my brother and I?”
The apparent leader, a tall man with a bushy black beard, stepped forward menacingly. “What’s your business here?”
Grace smiled, undaunted. “We seem to have got ourselves a bit lost. We’re trying to find my aunt’s haberdashery shop and thought someone here might provide us some directions.”
“Haberdashery shop?” The man growled suspiciously. Behind him, his comrades shifted uneasily.
“Oh yes!” Grace continued airily. “Aunt Millie makes the most divine hats. She was going to teach me her secrets, you know, being her only niece and a dab hand with a needle and thread myself. I want to follow in her footsteps and keep the family tradition alive.”
The bearded man peered down at the petite 15-year-old. “Is that so? And where might this shop of your aunt’s be located?”
Grace furrowed her brow. “Well truthfully, that’s exactly the problem. I know she’s somewhere close by in the Lace Market district but with all these twisty lanes, Richard and I have become quite turned around!”
Richard nodded earnestly but remained silent, letting his chatty twin sister take the lead.
The Luddite men murmured amongst themselves until their leader waved Grace and Richard forward.
The Luddite movement (named after an apprentice Ned Ludd) began in Nottingham, England, and spread to the North West and Yorkshire between 1811 and 1816. Mill and factory owners took to shooting protesters and eventually, the movement was suppressed by legal and military force, which included execution and penal transportation of accused and convicted Luddites
“Best come inside with us then,” he rumbled. “We’ll help set you to rights soon enough.”
Soon the twins found themselves seated around a rickety wooden table with six burly Luddites, patiently answering questions while waiting for the rest of the men to arrive.
“So it’s hats your aunt makes then?” One man asked. “What of the stockings my mother used to knit? Put out of house and home when the frames came in, she was!”
Grace nodded sympathetically. “It’s certainly been difficult. My parents didn’t want me and Richard to see how bad things have become around here.” She leaned forward. “Is it true what they say about men rampaging across Lancashire and Yorkshire at night, breaking into factories and smashing stocking frames and power looms?”
The Luddites shifted uncomfortably at this but the bearded leader slammed his fist on the table. “It may well be true! Decent, hardworking folk stripped of their living by those damn machines. Croppers and stockingers alike are being left penniless. What else can we do but wreck the implements taking food from our families’ mouths?”
Richard spoke up innocently. “Our schoolmaster taught us about the mills in Manchester with their steam-powered engines and such. He said the stocking frames there can make work faster and cheaper than any man. Is that why people are angry?”
The Luddite men erupted angrily, their voices ringing through the drafty room.
“Faster perhaps, but shoddy work! Nothing matches quality English craftsmanship,” one declared.
“And cheaper for the damn mill owners maybe, but we’re paid a pittance now, if we can find work at all with those infernal contraptions spewing out stockings day and night,” another man complained bitterly, greeted by murmurs of agreement.
Grace turned towards a boyish-looking young Luddite who couldn’t have been more than 17. “But aren’t the factories helping England keep up with demand?” she asked. “With Boney–I mean Napoleon–cutting off trade, doesn’t England need machines so we can manufacture more goods at home?”
The young man’s face flushed red. “To hell with Napoleon!” he cried. “Decent workers can’t earn a living wage with factories popping up everywhere, workers treated like slaves.”
The Luddites pounded the table, echoing his cry. “Well said, well said!”
As the last sunlight faded, more men began filtering into the abandoned warehouse, carrying sacks of stones for weapons. Grace counted two dozen Luddites assembled by nightfall. The bearded leader stood up to address the expectant crowd, his face illuminated by flickering candle stubs.
“Right lads, we’ll head out soon to Dobson & Barlow where them new shearing frames just arrived from London…”
As covert plans were discussed to don disguises and smash yet another factory’s looms and frames later that night, Grace strained to memorize everything being said while Richard scribbled notes surreptitiously onto his shirt cuff.
An hour later the Luddites prepared to leave, armed with stones and sledgehammers hidden under their coats. Grace hesitated before calling out to them.
“Pardon me gentlemen, but I was just wondering…do you really think breaking machinery will help?” She spoke gently. Behind her Richard froze, eyes darting between his twin and the bristling workmen.
The bearded leader halted, his face thoughtful. “Machines threaten our families, lass. What else can be done when petitions and protests fail? When populations shift to cities? When merchants and mill owners grow fat while spinners and croppers starve? These attacks–it’s our last defence.” Murmurs rippled through the crowd behind him. He nodded curtly at the twins. “You’d both do well to steer clear of Annesley tonight.”
With that warning hanging in the chilly air, the Luddites slipped away silently into the shadows, leaving Richard and Grace alone next to the gutted remains of the dying fire. They slowly gathered their belongings.
“We’re following them right?” Grace asked, breaking the heavy silence.
Richard sighed but a small grin stole across his face. “Definitely. But let’s give them a good head start first.”
The twins crept silently through the dark twisting alleys, following the main group of Luddites at a distance. Ahead they could hear raucous singing and cheers as the men grew emboldened on their march of destruction.
Rounding the last corner, Richard and Grace came upon a grim scene. The massive brick Dobson & Barlow textile mill loomed in the moonlight, its hundreds of windows flashing orange with fire. The giant wooden door frames had been smashed to splinters. Inside, they could see Luddites rampaging, swinging sledgehammers as they ruthlessly attacked the factory’s spinning machines. The deafening crashes of metal and wood echoed down the narrow lane.
“Stay close,” Richard murmured as they slipped into the factory’s courtyard. Passing a smashed window, they witnessed more violence erupting inside. Two Luddites had cornered a well-dressed man cowering against a shelf.
“Where’s Dobson then? Hiding from us, is he?” one loomed over the cringing man who raised his hands defensively.
“I’m just the night watchman! Please, I have nothing to do with the frames or Mr. Dobson!”
The second Luddite yanked the man up by his coat. “You were happy enough to collect Dobson’s wage and spy on spinners making stockings as fast as the machines could go, I reckon!” He drew back his fist menacingly.
“No, please…” the watchman whimpered before the fist ploughed into his face. The twins jumped back as the watchman’s body slumped unconscious to the floor. His attackers rushed deeper into the factory, shouting more smashing sounds.
“We have to do something!” Grace cried, starting forward but Richard grabbed her shoulder, restraining her.
“There are dozens of them, Grace, and they’re armed. We can’t stop this riot.” He frowned at the glow spreading down the lane as flames consumed more of the factory’s wooden frames. “Anyway, the militia will surely be summoned soon to intervene.”
At that moment, stomping boot steps and cries echoed from adjacent streets. Squads of red-coated soldiers poured into the courtyard wielding pistols and sabres. An officer shouted, “Disperse at once! This is the army!”
Chaos erupted. The Luddites scattered, flinging stones to cover their escape. Soldiers fired shots at fleeing men or chased them down alleyways. Within minutes the swirling smoke made it impossible for the twins to witness more of the confrontation. They clung to each other in a sheltered corner as soldiers stormed past them into the burning factory after the Luddites.
“Come on, we’d better get out of here fast,” Richard coughed, pulling his sister away from the flames and violence. They crept down deserted side lanes for 15 breathless minutes until the glow faded behind them. Only then did Grace release the crushing grip on her twin’s hand.
Richard studied his sister’s smudged face in the dim light. “Are you alright?”
Grace nodded shakily. “I just can’t believe how quickly things turned. Those poor workers so desperate to keep their livelihoods. And the mill owner will be financially devastated.”
Richard shook his head. “It’s an impossible situation. The Luddites are understandably scared by the machines replacing them. But industry and technology are advancing inexorably. The workers can’t fight that progress forever.”
Grace sighed. “No wonder this period had so much social upheaval.” She imagined frightened workers seeing their future security disappearing. But also merchants and manufacturers anxious to profit from booming mechanisation. Caught in between were hapless souls like that night watchman.
Grace looped her arm through Richard’s as they walked. “I wonder if there will ever be a solution that helps workers without losing efficiency gains from factories and machines.”
Richard smiled at his idealistic twin. “Who knows? Maybe one day there will be rules helping everyday labourers or laws to protect children from factory exploitation. But people may have to lose livelihoods along the way.”
They continued on thoughtfully under the fading stars. The distant echoes of smashed machinery and musket shots faded behind them. Ahead lay a time jump back home to their own era, one still filled with progress-driven growing pains. But perhaps slightly more hope too.