Sylvia Plath, Luddites and The League of Gentlemen: The Rich Histories of Marsden, West Yorkshire

By Ursula Genndining, Year 3 English Literature

When I first watched The League of Gentleman (1999-2017) at the age of 12, it was easy to guess that the small-town setting was partially modelled on my home village, Marsden, in West Yorkshire. With running gags like the suspiciously good butcher and the “local shop for local people”, the parallels were made stark and unmissable. When asked how the townspeople felt about this less-than-complimentary take on our local life, the residents of Marsden told journalists that they were “waiting for it to come out on DVD”; 10 pm was too late to be watching television. 

Nestled at the end of the line, on the border between West Yorkshire and Lancashire, Marsden is the picture of the post-industrial Northern village, with the boundary of the Peak District just to the South. Colossal and abandoned factories tower over the residencies, and the overwhelming ghosts of an industry still remain in the foreground, dramatically influencing the image of the village. Before the 18th century, the populace of Marsden would have been severely limited by the agricultural difficulties consistent with living in and among moorland – poor soil and hostile topography. The industrial revolution left a tangible mark on its physical and economic development. The factories built made sure that the vast majority of the inhabitants became employed in the manufacture of cloth. The 19th century was a chapter of considerable change regarding infrastructure, village landscape, and vocational opportunities. The village became a microcosm for the migration of the English populace during the Industrial Revolution to towns. 

Because of this shift in the industry, Marsden also became the site of Luddite reactionary vandalism. Due to manufacturing developments, one machine could do the work of ten menfolk. The Marsden Luddites organised protests and riots stirred by “desperate men of Longroyd Bridge”, the first of which occurred at the local mill owned by William Horsfall. Horsfall was ultimately killed on what is now William Horsfall Street. He heavily advocated for the use of contemporary innovation and machinery and was thus made an example by a few Luddites who ambushed him. Characteristically of the contemporary northern political landscape, the Luddite movement demonstrated a general inclination towards unionist polemics; this is interestingly reflected in modern northern constituencies today.  

Picture of Fiona Russell and a local nationally award-winning poet called Jo Haslam 

As well as a rich anthropological history, my hometown is situated among infamous terrain. The moorland, which dramatically surrounds the village, has inspired many literary works. You may remember studying the likes of the Brontës or Simon Armitage. This landscape profoundly affected their form and content, demanding the hostility and breadth of the moorland to be felt by readers and audiences. This so-called hostility, integrated into such works as Wuthering Heights, speaks to the violent and unrefined nature of the characters that inhabit the novels created in such an environment. The landscape is saturated with geographical drama, primed for stories of ghosts, affairs, and mystery. Poets such as Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes were inspired by the manmade landscape, which appears barren except for vast swathes of heather and bog. It is contested whether all moorland is a product of man’s involvement. However, there is evidence to show that the Pennine moorland was, in fact, forested in Mesolithic times. This environment primarily consists of low-growing vegetation in acidic soils, through which the microclimate has been cultivated. The vast nature of the terrain, rolling ahead of the adventurer for miles, has inspired many works to exploit its reputation, foregrounding themes of loneliness and deprivation. Growing up here, having read and witnessed artists’ emphasis on the moorland’s hostility, I would like to posit a counter to this supposed barrenness. 

The Yorkshire Moorlands, captured by Sasha Glendinning

The moorland provides habitats for at least 57 bird species as well as mountain hares (evidence collected by recent Game and Wildlife Trust research). Here, some of the UK’s most endangered birds have made their homes. It is not uncommon for one’s exploration of the landscape to result in spotting the likes of buzzards and golden plovers if one stays aware - our moorland matters for the wider ecosystem. Steeped in peat, it locks up millions of tonnes of carbon. It also cultivates the economy and rural communities with the tourism of walkers, contributing to local business. 

With the odd demographic of retreating middle-class Pagans alongside council estates and an outspoken Protestant community growing up, there was always something to do. The village hosts many Pagan festivals, most of which were integrated into our education. This involved the rituals which accompany the festival of Imbolc – building paper lanterns to march around the village with and watch the celebrations. Marsden is a site for many local festivals and re-enactments of rural legends. The most famous of these is perhaps that of the Cuckoo Festival. Each year a procession is staged in which the local peoples walk through the village centre dressed as cuckoos and carrying huge bird-like structures. These festivals continue to unite the community and like-minded in their love of nature and village history.  

Marsden’s Yearly The Cuckoo Festival

To write about Marsden and the surrounding area is to express a deep connection with and admiration for it. Having spent 18 years of my life there, I have been witness and party to its idiosyncrasies and rich cultural history. A small village haunted by the factories that built its reputation and population, in and amongst vast swathes of seemingly hostile and acidic moorland, has cultivated festivals, literature, Paganism, and an intense sense of community from which it is almost impossible to hide. It is for this reason, primarily, that I love it; the locale has a tangible state of togetherness in its kindness, reciprocity, and stoicism that I admire and miss when I am at university. This world is unique, in stark contrast to an outsider’s perception.