In the early 1810s, skilled English cloth artisans—handloom weavers, knitters and spinners—faced ruin as factory owners swapped their seven-year-trained labor for unskilled workers running power looms. These artisans formed a decentralized militant union, sending anonymous threats to mill owners and then smashing up machines when warnings went unheeded. Raids involved shooting through windows and violent intimidation, though actual killings were rare. In two particularly vicious cases, factory owners paid with their lives, drawing a harsh government response. Britain’s authorities poured spies and rewards—up to forty times a yearly wage—into crushing the movement, but tight-knit working-class communities refused to inform. Eventually 12,000 troops were dispatched to northern textile districts, more for show than battle. A draconian police state under magistrate Joseph Radcliffe in Yorkshire finally broke local groups. Informers, terrified by indefinite detentions, fingered a handful of leaders. Trials led to hangings that smashed Luddism’s momentum, though sporadic raids lasted another six years. Despite its collapse, Luddism scored short-term victories: mill construction stalled in some towns, machinery installation delayed for years, and one factory even handed out extra wages to deter sabotage. The movement also shook the government into fearing a broader uprising, shaping early labor reforms like child-labor laws and factory inspections. By uniting scattered artisans in direct action, Luddism sowed the concept of a “working class,” laying groundwork for later unions—even as mechanized textile production marched on.