A Surprising Legacy. Ernest Swain
including forged notes, was distributed by a gang based at the ‘Bottom House’ public house on the Leek to Ashbourne turnpike and some of the gang were executed at Stafford.
A glimpse of life in the area in 1786 is seen in a decree of The Manorial Court, presumably that held at Manor Farm, Quarnford, which stated;
“Whereas itt has heretofore been found Inconvenient and of ill Consequence to entertain and suffer Strang women with child to come into and bee Delivered of their Bastard Children within the jurisdiction of this Court And also of Entertaining Orphiant Children not of age and ability to provide for themselves, whereby the same may become chargeable to our parish… Therefore to prevent the like practisse for the future and for the Establishing and car….?…..an Agreement to the Effect Aforsd in writing….?….Quarnford the 14th day of this instant May Wee hereby lay a pane that if any person or Householder within the Jurisdiction of this Court as aforsd shall entertain any Such Woman with Child or any Orphion or Child not of Age or Ability to provide for themselves as aforsd for the Space of one Week shall forfeit to the Lord of the Manor the Sums of 30/- And so proportionate for any Shorter or Longer term”. (Sic).
Travellers or itinerants were certainly a part of the make up of the Quarnford community, and then, as now, there was distinction between them and the true Romanies. The ‘Romani’ or ‘Roma’ dialogue used in this story is true to the Romany culture.
Chapter 1.
Amos was just one of a good number of travelling men who wintered in this area. It seemed strange that they should gravitate to Flash which is considered to be the highest village in the country, to spend their winter months in what was almost certain to be some of the worst weather imaginable. Its high aspect guaranteed either endless days of wet, dismal hill fog, or vicious biting winds, that when the snows came, and come they certainly would, it blew into enormous drifts that beggared belief. To venture outside in such conditions meant a monumental struggle just to get about, and clothing soaked through that wouldn’t dry from one day to the next. But there was a reason that drew these men to this God forsaken place – a secret that was only whispered about under guarded breath between knowing people, because disclosure meant but one thing, the gallows!
It was a strange mixture, this Shropshire young man, with some education, living the life of a Romany. His head of dark hair, and his bronzed skin were well in keeping with his lifestyle, and his lean, muscular body was that of a young man used to physical labours, but the moment he opened his mouth to speak, his accent and his fluent use of the English language, betrayed the fact that his origins were not Romany.
Flash was a village of nothing much, just a few houses, a blacksmith’s shop and an alehouse. A dour place of poor, wet land that made earning a living difficult, so these few hardy residents, especially the ale-house keeper, eagerly anticipated the late autumn arrival of these itinerants and the money they would bring. One and all, they were ‘men of character’, as they liked to be known – which really meant they were sly, devious people who lived on their wits; generally outside the law. This village was therefore a haven to them, as it lay at the furthest extent of the Staffordshire Moorlands, at its boundary with the counties of Cheshire and Derbyshire. A haven, because if the law should pursue them, as it occasionally did, their escape was an easy matter; simply move over the boundary into another county where the law couldn’t follow. There were good living people, of course there were, they were mostly born and bred in the area, many of whom had just a small cottage and were able to raise a pig, or perhaps a goose or two for meat, and those a little better off may have a cow for milk, which they’d graze on the common. The common land was becoming a problem with the introduction of what they called the ‘Enclosures Act’, which meant the wealthy estate owners, who already owned the majority of the land, were fencing off commons in a ‘land grab’. Amos would often recite a telling little poem for those who would listen;
“The law locks up the man or woman,
Who steals the goose from the common.
But lets the greater villain loose,
Who steals the common from the goose”. (Anon)
The aspirations of these people were understandably low. They were mainly unskilled, uneducated people who could only hope to subsist on the meagre fruits of their labours. For generations past, those not engaged in farm labouring, were mainly quarry workers over the county boundary in Derbyshire where the basic rock strata changed from the gritstone and shale of the moorlands, to limestone.
A few enterprising families began to covertly dig for the coal which was surprisingly close to the surface up on these moors. Covertly, because immediately the land owners discovered the enterprise the mine would be seized. These excavations were generally turned into ‘bell mines’, the name being derived from the shape of a bell, with a small opening at ground level with a rough hewn derrick to hoist the coal and spoil, and an ever widening circular chamber below. These mines were extremely dangerous for those working below the surface as there was nothing to support the roof and the surface water constantly drained into them making it a dangerous occupation.
Occasionally the coal seam would surface on a hillside and there the men would follow the seam, forming an adit and a tunnel which could be supported with timber, but few of these allowed a man to stand upright. These seams near the surface were usually thin and as only the coal was saleable it was futile to rip out tons of unsaleable stone just for the comfort of the men. Most of the work was done by the miner lying on his side, hewing with his pick-axe, in dirty, wet, claustrophobic conditions lit only by a candle that was difficult to keep alight. Boys of eight to ten years, even girls, would often be used underground, being smaller than an adult. In more recent years coal mining had become a profitable industry and two deep mines had been sunk on the nearby Axe Edge.
At Gradbach, just below Flash, on the local squire’s Manor farm, the wide, fast flowing Flash Brook was dammed and the water diverted into beds where it was held until the ochre that it carried, settled out. Once the water was again released from these beds, the ochre was collected and sold to dye and paint manufacturers. The local population were eager for work, whether it be energy sapping, wet and dirty, or cold, claustrophobic and dangerous, but whatever the work, of one thing was certain, the rewards were pitiful. Poverty was endemic. To eke out their meagre existence, in many households the income was supplemented by button making, a home industry that occupied the women and girls sewing the cloth or leather coverings. Some buttons were more intricate and required an oak press which would be filled with molten metal and pressed into shape.
Manor farm also held the Court-Leet where local issues of infringements regarding land, poaching and other misdemeanours, were dealt with by a visiting magistrate, the more serious offences being taken to Leeke. A local Parish Constable was appointed in the form of the farm bailiff at Manor farm, but in truth he was a rogue who looked after himself first and foremost, and not being the bravest of men, he rarely ventured where trouble might ensue.
Since the death of his parents, Amos had continued in this nomadic lifestyle and he had his own secret reasons to spend his winter months in this harsh, poverty stricken area. This year was to change his life forever. The mother and child who were to enter his bachelor domain in such a dramatic way, would play on his heart-strings.
Chapter 2.
Ruth began to hum a tune to herself. .Amos pretended to take little notice but allowed the thought to flitter through his mind that at last the child was beginning to feel a little secure and perhaps, was finding some pleasure in her short life. He saw her sitting relaxed on the trunk of a fallen tree, her tousled hair hanging forward over her face as she bent to smell the flower she plucked from the grass. Her appearance was quite grubby, her hair in need of a good wash and comb, and her dress – well, what remained of it –had seen better days.
Recent times had certainly been unkind to her and Amos felt a tenderness toward the child. He’d worked at several farms in the area around Halsmere throughout the harvest period, as he did most years, to provide for his needs, and being a dependable regular to