11th October 1812: Arms raid at Balm Mill, Cleckheaton

At 8.30 p.m. on Sunday 11th October, 3 men entered the home of John Briggs, the miller at Balm Mill near Cleckheaton and demanded his gun. Briggs was not at home, and his brother who was present was unable to give the men a gun, so they proceeded to rob the house, obtaining 63 Guineas in gold, and £10 in silver coins. Other property to the value of between £80-90 was also taken. Briggs' brother was beaten up.

21st April 1812: Rawfolds mutineer is flogged outside the Mill

On the morning of Tuesday 21st April 1812, the sentenced handed down the soldier who refused to fire on Luddites during the attack on Rawfolds Mill was due to be carried out.

The army had decided that his punishment of 300 lashes should be carried out outside the Mill itself, and the soldier was marched 7 miles with an escort of Dragoons from Huddersfield to the site near Liversedge.

William Cartwright was present, and according to the Leeds Mercury's brief article about the flogging, Cartwright intervened in the delivery of the punishment numerous times. Eventually, the military agreed to remit the sentence after 25 lashes. Although Cartwright's thoughts about the spectacle haven't survived, it seems fair to surmise that with each stroke of the lash, he must have realised he was becoming even more of a villain, and not just in the eyes of the people of the area, but also the ordinary soldiers whom he and his fellow capitalists were depending on to suppress Luddism.

It's not clear how many people were present, but it seems likely that it was a significant public spectacle.

12th April 1812: Rawfolds aftermath - the wounded, the dying (known and unknown) and secrets taken to the grave

The Star Inn, Roberttown. Image copyright Humphrey Bolton. (geograph profile)

For what occurred after the Luddite raid at Rawfolds Mill, we can only rely on one or two contemporary documentary sources. The rest is folklore, recorded and probably embellished over 66 years later by the local journalist Frank Peel, and arguably embroidered further still by many other authors since.

The facts documented at the time tell us that an hour elapsed between the commencement of the attack on Rawfolds and a detachment of Queen's Bays arriving, by then too late to intervene. Why they did not arrive sooner given that they were only stationed but a mile away is not known, but a clue may be found in the reluctance of two of the soldiers of the Cumberland Militia to take part in the defence of Rawfolds.

William Cartwright did not emerge from the Mill until he was sure it was safe, and the familiar face of Mr Cockhill appeared outside. His attitude and actions towards the two mortally wounded men lying in the Mill yard are not recorded for posterity, but Frank Peel decided that he failed to do anything to help them, and has a cast of other colourful characters appearing and doing their bit to soothe and comfort the wounded instead, or not as the case may be.

We do know the identities of the two wounded men. One of them was a 24 year-old cropper, a bachelor called Samuel Hartley who had once worked for Cartwright before he had mechanised Rawfolds. He was also a private in the Halifax Local Militia of which Cartwright was a Captain. Because of his familiarity, it is likely that Cartwright felt particularly sourly towards him, but if so, he did not write of it in the letters that have survived. Hartley had been wounded by a musket-ball passing through his left breast, and the ball was lodged beneath the skin under the left shoulder.

The other man was 19 year-old called John Woodhead Booth. Booth was the son of a clergyman, the Reverend Booth of Kirkby-Malhamdale at Craven, who was also master of the Free Grammar School there. John Booth was an apprentice to a Mr Wright, a tinner at Huddersfield. Booth was wounded in one of his legs, which had apparently been shattered by a musket ball.

One can only imagine the agony these men must have been in.

They were eventually transported by litters to the Star Inn at Roberttown (the folklore has it that they were conveyed to the Yew Tree Inn first, but crowds appearing there led to them being moved). Once there, surgery was attempted on both of them.

Booth has lost copious amounts of blood before the surgeons had arrived. A decision was made to amputate his wounded leg, but he died after going into convulsions during the operation at 6.00 a.m. on the 12th April, 6 hours after the attack had begun.

(Frank Peel has the dying Booth playing a trick on the Reverend Hammond Roberson, giving him the impression he is about to disclose some information before quietly slipping into death. But this directly contradicts the report in the Leeds Mercury which clearly states that Booth died in convulsions. The latter is clearly the most likely story, despite reputable historians like EP Thompson repeating Peel's fiction, given his horrendous wounds and the equally horrendous operation being attempted upon him. Bizarrely, the journalist Robert Reid has it that both versions of the tale happened!)

John Booth has a road named after him in Roberttown, near to where he died.

The musket ball was extracted from beneath Hartley's shoulder, along with a fragment of bone. But like Booth, he too was very weak from blood loss. He died at 3.00 a.m. on the 13th April, 27 hours after the attack at Rawfolds had commenced.

The folklore says that the men were tortured, but as the Hammonds (1979, p.250) point out, the screams and cries that must have emerged from their surgery would have sounded not dissimilar. In a tight-knit community that overwhelmingly sided with the Luddites, the loss of two youthful men would have been difficult enough to bear.

What is true is that, despite their anguish, the men did not give away any of their comrades. The Leeds Mercury has one of them crying out in the Mill yard "help! help!—I know all, and I will tell all." But even if this was the case, in a letter written 11 days later, Cartwright admitted to his friend Robert Rayner that the two men "however from untoward circumstances made no Disclosure of their associates."

In most of the literature, Booth and Hartley are presented as the only fatal casualties of Rawfolds, and whilst it is true that they are the only people whose names we know, there are clues about others who may have died later and whose names may yet be discovered with more applied research.

In 1979, Lock & Dixon in their biography of Patrick Brontë, who was the priest at Hartshead Church at the time, alleged that Luddites had secretly buried un-named Rawfolds dead in an unmarked grave at the south-east corner of the graveyard, which Brontë observed but did not prevent. The story is essentially make-believe as they presented no sources for this information.

More real is the letter from a pseudonymous 'John Bull' at Wakefield to the Home Office written on the 15th April 1812, who states that two more men had died by then, and neither of them Croppers - one of them being a tradesman, the other a grocer.

A day later, Colonel Campbell at Leeds wrote to his Commanding Officer General Grey saying that two men had died at their homes after being carried there wounded from Rawfolds, one from 'Hatchet Bar', the other from Birstall. It's not clear if these are the same men mentioned by 'John Bull', or if Campbell was merely repeating rumours.

A month later, the Lancaster Gazette of 16th May 1812 reported that an un-named man had died in Halifax on 7th May from wounds received at Rawfolds. He had apparently not ventured home since, nor sought any medical advice.

11th April 1812: Mass Luddite attack on William Cartwright's Mill at Rawfolds, near Cleckheaton

The 'Dumb Steeple' in it's original location in 1921.

The night of Saturday the 11th April 1812 was a new moon & had been chosen by Luddites in the West Riding to attack William Cartwright's Mill at Rawfolds.

In the pitch black night, several hundred Luddites had gathered in a field belonging to Sir George Armytage, close to the 'Dumb Steeple' (or simply 'Obelisk' as it more likely to be known by at the time). Around 25 to 36 men were there for 10.00 p.m., being joined by many more by 11.00 p.m.: this rendezvous point was a short distance north-east of Cooper Bridge and a crossroads leading to the different townships in the area, a good place to marshal forces from around and about. The total force numbered somewhere between 150 to 300 according to different witnesses.

The leaders had various principal tasks before the Luddites set off. The men were divided into different companies according to the armaments they had brought: hatchets, pistols and muskets. Tactics were discussed and agreed, and numbers were assigned to each man present. Everyone was urged to disguise themselves well, so that they would not recognise each other - some had brought masks, others covered their heads and faces with cloth. In the cold dead of night, tots of rum were passed around, to imbue both warmth & courage. And then they eventually set off, directly over Hartshead Moor to Rawfolds, which lay 3 miles distant.

At Rawfolds, Cartwright had assembled a small force of employees to defend his Mill. Of the 9 of his employees who had originally constituted his night-watch, by now two were too ill to help, and the obvious fears of a third man, fears which had been exacerbated after the attack on Foster's Mill on the 9th April, meant that Cartwright had dismissed him from the watch. He was left with 6 men, plus himself, and he needed 2 of them to keep watch outside. He had applied to the Cumberland Militia for help, and they had supplied 5 soldiers. The defences he had prepared at the Mill made it into a virtual fortress.

With midnight falling, Cartwright decided it was time for his men to retire to bed. But the Luddites had now arrived close to the Mill. The leaders had by now realised that the force they had brought from South of the Spen Beck was as good as it would get: there was no sign of the Halifax contingent who had pledged to be present. But it was now too late, they couldn't wait any longer.

The sentries Cartwright had posted outside the Mill were just then jolted out of their boredom: they heard several gunshots - one from the North, answered by another from the South shortly afterwards. Similar shots were heard from Eastern and Westerly directions. Being distracted, the men had not noticed figures in the pitch black night approaching from the shadows, and they were quickly overpowered by the Luddites.

Inside the Mill, a dog that Cartwright had chained on the ground floor began to continuously bark.

By 12.30 a.m., groups of men carrying hammers had arrived, and others armed with muskets followed. The smashing and crashing proceeded in earnest - the windows on the ground floor were now being broken in, and men with Enochs pounded at the main door. Men with pistols closer to the building fired off shots into the ground floor. Other with firearms surrounding the mill took aim and loosed off shots at the first floor.

Inside, Cartwright was now alert, ordering his mixed band of military and workers to return fire, whilst another was tasked with ringing the bell he had installed. He was hoping the bell would quickly alert and bring the Queen's Bays cavalry which were stationed a mile away, but as the man yanked on the rope, it snapped. Cartwright ordered him and another man to get up to the roof and ring it by hand. When the tolling of the bell re-commenced, Cartwright distinctly heard some outside shout "Damn that bell, get it!"

Cartwright's men were taking aim from behind flagstones that had been raised from the floors to form embrasures. Standing in the lea of the building was now dangerous and many of these men withdrew to reload their weapons. An attempt to break down the doors by the breaking parties with hammers continued. Another voice shouted "Bang up, my lads - in with you!"

Luddites stationed further away fired back into the Mill, and a stand off began. Volleys of fire went back and forth. Some of the Luddites were wounded, with one or two lying about the Mill yard, unable to move and crying out in agony.

Inside the Mill, not all of the participants were willing. To Cartwright's shock and disgust, two of the Cumberland Militia were not conducting themselves as he had expected. Whilst one soldier seemed to be making a meal of reloading his weapon and didn't seem to be targeting anything but the trees, another had refused to fire on the Luddites, put down his weapon and slumped against a wall. Cartwright was livid, but reserved his ire for the Luddites outside for the time being.

20 minutes into the fire and counter-fire, and with the bell still ringing out from the top of the Mill, those in charge of the assault realised their situation was hopeless - with the likelihood that military stationed at a distance were already assembling, if not already on their way; with casualties strewn around and about the Mill; with a seemingly impregnable door that had still not yielded to the Enochs despite being severely battered; and with a robust defence from Cartwright, the decision was taken to leave and disperse. But not before retrieving the wounded.

But it soon became apparent that this was dangerous, and for two of men lying there almost impossible, such were the nature of their wounds. Shots were still being fired down at them from the Mill - it was decided to leave behind the two men in the worst condition and retreat with those who could be carried or could move with some assistance.

From the position high in the Mill, Cartwright's men began to report that shapes in the dark were moving away in two different directions, but both in a southerly direction towards Huddersfield. The returning fire had ceased. The steady fire his men had laid down had worked - he later estimated that 140 shots had been fired over the 20 minute attack, 7 shots a minute being a reasonable rate of fire for a small group with muskets. Cartwright ordered the ceasefire and waiting a minute or two he then ordered a halt to the ringing of the bell. In the stillness could be heard the anguished cries of the two men left behind by the Luddites.

Making his way downstairs to the ground floor, Cartwright noted the damage, which he would tally more fully later: the Luddites had almost got through the main door, being so damaged by axes and hammers that it would have to be replaced rather than repaired. Not just the glass, but also the frames of 8 windows were destroyed. Upstairs, 50 panes of glass had been destroyed by gunfire.

Cartwright and his men waited and did not venture out until they could be sure it was safe. He heard a familiar voice, that of a Mr. Cockhill, a dyer from nearby. He opened what was left of the door and ventured out to survey the scene.

Outside, other than the cries of anguish of the two men left behind, the yard was strewn with the discarded weapons of the Luddite breaking party - no less than 14 hammers, mauls and hatchets - even an adze and bullet moulds - were later found, along with some muskets. Some of the masks that the Luddites had worn were also discarded. Here and there were patches and pools of blood; in the daylight later, some of them could be tracked for a fair distance. There were even traces of flesh and a man's finger was later found nearby.

The next day Cartwright's servant, James Wilkinson, spotted a man's hat floating in Mill damn at the side of the building. He fished it out and gave it to his master.

The West Riding Luddites had suffered their first defeat.

9th April 1812: Sentinel at Rawfolds Mill observes signals indicating an attack

On the evening of Thursday, 9th April 1812, a guard posted at Rawfolds Mill 'observed several signals that were supposed to indicate an approaching attack'.

We know little else about what occurred that night than this line in the Leeds Mercury of 18th April 1812. The type and manner of the signal is not known, whether audible, or visual, or both - although visual is suggested. It is known that coloured rockets were used by Luddites as signals during the disturbances, but equally it could have been the more conventional signal used in the West Riding, that of the shot from a pistol, possibly several shots.

In the event, nothing else occurred that night - no attack came.

28th March 1812: West Riding manufacturers turn their Mills into fortresses following warnings

On Saturday 28th March 1812, William Cartwright received a warning from a man called Abraham Pule. Pule was a cropper who had formerly worked for Cartwright before he automated his factory, and had in between times become a dealer in pigs, but was now back working as cropper at Halifax.

Pule told Cartwright that two days earlier at the place where he now worked, Waterhouse's factory, he had been party to a private conversation: the workers there said that they had heard from Huddersfield Luddites, who were planning to attack Rawfolds within the next four nights, unless they determined that Cartwright was "on his guard": if the latter, then the attack would be deferred for between 2 to 3 weeks.

Pule promised to alert Cartwright as soon as he knew the date of the attack. But Cartwright did not trust him, viewing Pule's friendly approaches as "affected motives". In any event, he had been preparing the Mill at Rawfolds for all possible eventualities.

The Mill had a certain built-in defensive nature, in the sense that it was surrounded on one side by the Spen Beck, which effectively acted as a moat. Cartwright had replaced the main door with a more substantial one reinforced with studded iron. Although the ground floor was left unprotected, he intended to use the first floor as his firing platform: the flagstones nearest the windows had been propped up against them to form embrasures, a robust defence for a defender with a musket. Cartwright planned to arm a small number of his workforce when they were needed. Later, he would apply to the Cumberland Militia to station soldiers at Rawfolds.

Cartwright had also planned to raise the alarm, by fitting a bell to the roof with a rope than ran all the way down to the ground floor to allow it to be pealed by those inside. Cartwright later estimated he had spent £80 on his preparations, equivalent to more than £53,000 at today's prices.

Ottiwells Mill (since demolished). The remains of the defensive wall & gun loops can be seen bottom left.

Another manufacturer who had an aggressive & defensive mentality was William Horsfall. Over the hills at Marsden lay the 'manufactory' of his family, Ottiwells Mill. He he had built a stone wall to surround the front of the Mill facing the road, complete with gun loops which could be used by those of his employees he had armed with muskets. Like Cartwright, he had started a night watch at Ottiwells.

A view of William Horsfall's House, Ottiwells House, showing the defensive wall, from the Huddersfield Weekly News, 27th November 1880

One thing that was clear was that any Luddite attacks on such premises would not be the one-sided affairs they had experienced thus far in the West Riding.

29th February 1812: The West Riding manufacturer William Cartwright, takes up residence in his Mill at Rawfolds

William Cartwright

In 1812, William Cartwright was a relative newcomer to the area of the Spen Valley, having occupied the Mill at Rawfolds, near Cleckheaton, for the past 3 years. He was a manufacturer or, more accurately, cloth finisher.

The Mill itself had stood well before Cartwright had taken his tenure there. It had been built by Benjamin Broadley, after he became the owner in 1774 and had previously functioned as a Scribbling Mill, although the Mill itself was only part of a complex of buildings at Rawfolds which eventually included private residences, a workshop and a chemical factory. Surrounding the complex were plots of private land, an Orchard to the South and the Spen Beck, which powered the Water Wheel on the Mill via the Mill Pond and Weirs.

At some point during his tenure, Cartwright had begun to use shearing frames in the Mill, and his large establishment was the only one of its kind in the immediate surrounding area, which was populated with small cropping shops, employing 3 or 4 croppers who used hand shears. According to Frank Peel (1968, p.10), the arrival of Cartwright and his use of the new technology changed all that, with even the much larger cropping shop belonging to John Jackson at nearby Hightown suffering. In the midst of this hardship, Cartwright was prospering, having done well enough to buy 425 yards of land in a field called Broadroyd, which was opposite Rawfield House in 1810. Hall & Kipling (1984, p.10) describe Cartwright as a Whig, opposed to the war and the Orders in Council. But his political values went hand-in-hand with a belief in an aggressive and ruthless capitalism that had no qualms about undercutting his rivals still using a domesticated system, deploying machinery that could be operated far a less skilled, and cheap, labour force. We can also surmise he must have not lacked a certain amount of arrogance, employing these business methods in an area where the Clothdressers' proto-trade union, the Brief Institution, had been so prevalent.

For a physical picture of Cartwright, we have to turn to Elizabeth Gaskell who supplies a pen portrait of him in her by the subject about, in her book about Charlotte Brontë, an author who was later to romanticise Cartwright as the fictional Robert Moore, in her book Shirley:

"Mr. Cartwright was a very remarkable man, having, as I have been told, some foreign blood in him, the traces of which were very apparent in his tall figure, dark eyes and complexion, and singular, though gentlemanly bearing. At any rate, he had been much abroad, and spoke French well, itself a suspicious circumstance to the bigoted nationality of those days. Altogether he was an unpopular man, even before he took the last step of employing shears, instead of hands, to dress his wool. He was quite aware of his unpopularity, and of the probable consequences."

At the end of February 1812, Cartwright was so aware of his unpopularity that he was not even sleeping at his home a quarter of a mile away. Instead, he had set up a bed in the Counting House in the Mill, at this stage being the only occupant outside of normal operating hours. Although it's likely that Cartwright had already received anonymous threatening letters that were doing the rounds among the hated manufacturers in the West Riding, none have survived. How much his constant presence at his Mill was from an obsessive concern to guard it from anything untoward that may occur or, instead, to draw attention away from his home where his wife and small children lived is not clear. But Cartwright would be resident here from now until eventually something did occur in due course.