Chapter IV: Part 4

At Manchester the fame of the giant Tarquin, who held a castle on the ford of the Medlock, was long preserved. His legendary overthrow by Sir Lancelot du Lake is recorded by Hollinworth, and has since been turned into verse by one of our local poets. The Rev. John Whitaker, the learned historian of Manchester, discusses the matter with becoming gravity, and is quite inclined to believe in the reality of the gigantic knight and the stalwart courage of Arthur’s hero by whom he was overthrown. In the audit-room of Chetham’s Hospital there is a grotesque boss representing Saturn devouring his children, but the juvenile guides used to describe it as a portrait of Sir Tarquin enjoying his favourite breakfast of a plump Manchester baby.

The tombstone in the east cloister of Westminster, which had on it the name of Gervasius de Blois, but was thought by Dean Stanley to cover the remains of Abbot Byrcheston and twenty-six monks who died of the black death in 1349, was at one time known as “Long Meg,” and was said to be the gravestone of “Long Meg of Westminster.” Long Meg of Westminster was a Lancashire lass, who, according to the story-book, came up to London with other country wenches by the carrier’s waggon to seek service, and she began her Metropolitan career by drubbing the carrier for charging ten shillings each for the ride to the great city. “The Life of Long Meg of Westminster,” printed in 1635, contains many particulars, but it has no good claims to authenticity. “Dr. Skelton” is represented as the object of her affections, and many curious anecdotes are told of her prowess, and of the emphatic manner in which she quelled the disturbances in the Eagle, in Westminster, where she was servitor. She volunteered for service when Henry VIII. went to Boulogne, in place of a man who had been impressed, and there behaved so stoutly as to win a pension. But though an Amazon abroad she was an obedient wife, and declined a bout at quarter-staff with her husband. “Never shall it be said, though I can swindge a knave that wrongs me, that Long Meg shall be her husband’s master; and therefore use me as you please.” As all persons have their detractors, so this “Lancashire lass” is said to have kept at Southwark for many years “a famous infamous house of open hospitality.” Those who desire to know how the Lancashire lass overcame the vicar and bailiff of Westminster, how she overthrew a Spanish knight, fought with thieves, beat the French at Boulogne, and performed many other Amazonian exploits, may consult the “Life of Long Meg,” which has been reprinted in the present century. A ballad about her was licensed in 1594, and in 1618 a play upon her exploits was a favourite at the Fortune Theatre. Ben Jonson describes her:—

“Or Westminster Meg,
With her long leg,
As long as a crane;
And feet like a plane,
With a pair of heels
As broad as two wheels.”

Amongst the proverbs cited by quaint old Fuller is one current in the seventeenth century—“As long as Meg of Westminster.”

The most famous of the Lancashire giants is the “Childe of Hale,” who was taken to Court in 1620 and presented to James I. His patron was Sir Gilbert Ireland, who “with some of the neighbouring Lancashire gentry dizened him off with large ruffs about his neck and hands; a striped doublet of crimson and white, round his waist, a blue girdle embroidered with gold; large white plush breeches, powdered with blue flowers; green stockings; broad shoes of a light colour, having high red heels and tied with large bows of red ribbon; and just below his knees were bandages of the same colour, with large bows, and by his side a sword, suspended by a broad belt over his shoulder, and embroidered, as his girdle, with blue and gold, with the addition of a gold fringe upon the edge. We are traditionally informed that his amazing size at the time frightened away some thieves who came to rob his mother’s house.” In this costume he is said to have struggled with the King’s wrestler, whose thumb he put out. This displeased some of the courtiers, and hence the King dismissed him with a present of £20. He returned home by Brasenose College, Oxford, which was then full of Lancashire students. Here, as we learn from Harland, his portrait was taken of full life-size, and is now to be seen in the College library. There is another likeness of him preserved at High Leigh; and an original painting of the “Chylde” is kept in the gallery at Hale Hall, bearing the following inscription:—“This is the true portraiture of John Middleton, the ‘Chylde of Hale,’ who was born at Hale, 1578, and was buried at Hale, 1623.” About eighty years ago the body is said to have been taken up, and the principal bones were for some time preserved at Hale Hall. The thigh bone, it is gravely stated, reached from the hip of a common man to his feet, and the rest measured in proportion. After some time the bones were reburied in the churchyard, but whereabouts is not known. He could only stand upright in the centre of the cottage in which he resided; and tradition states that he attained his wonderful stature in one night, in consequence of some spells and incantations that were practised against him. The Rev. William Stewart, in his “Memorials of Hale,” printed in 1848, says that “the cottage is now inhabited by Mr. Thomas Johnson, and is situated near the south-west corner of the Parsonage Green. A descendant of his family, Charles Chadwick, was living in 1804, and was more than six feet high.” There is every appearance of gross exaggeration in the accounts of the wonderful “childe.”

William Hone has given a portrait in the “Every-day Book” of the “Manchester gigantic boy,” exhibited at Bartholomew Fair, who was fourteen years old and stood 5 feet 2 inches, measured 5 feet round the body, 27 inches across the shoulders, 20 inches round the arm, 24 inches round the calf, 31 inches round the thigh, and weighed 22 stone. Hone gives his name as Whitehead, but William Wilkinson Westhead appears to be his correct designation. He was christened in the Collegiate Church 12th October, 1810, but is said to have been born in Glasgow. Murphy, the Irish giant, who stood seven feet and a half, and who died of small-pox at Marseilles in the 26th year of his age, is said to have begun life as a dock labourer at Liverpool.

At the other extremity may be mentioned Boardman, the Bolton dwarf, who claimed to be thirty-four years old, and to be only 38 inches in height. The showman claims to have received the patronage of the Royal Family at Ascot in 1819. Doubtless further inquiry would greatly add to these scattered notes of the Lancashire Anakim.

A Note on William Rowlinson.

A scrapbook made by William Rowlinson, first exhibited at a meeting of the Manchester Literary Club, and then liberally presented by Mr. Charles Roeder to the Manchester Free Library, is an interesting relic, and may justify a note on this now forgotten but promising young poet. It contains many newspaper cuttings, the earliest pages being devoted to his own compositions, and the remainder consisting of miscellaneous matter, chiefly poetical, that had attracted his attention.

William Rowlinson was born in 1805, it is believed, somewhere in the vicinity of Manchester. The family removed, for a time, to Whitby, but returned again to Manchester. He must early have developed a passion for writing, as contributions of his appear in the _British Minstrel_ in 1824. The _British Minstrel_ was a weekly periodical consisting of songs and recitations, old and new. The number for November 20th, 1824, contains two lyrics by Rowlinson (p. 171). The editor remarks, “We have received a letter from Mr. Rowlinson, of Manchester, and are obliged to him for the Originals enclosed. Mr. Wroe, of Ancoats’ Street, is our bookseller at Manchester; he, no doubt, will afford him every facility in communicating with us at any time he may have a packet for London.” A packet was sent, and is acknowledged in the number for December 25th, 1824. One of his lyrics appears in the last number of the _British Minstrel_, which came to an end January 22nd, 1825. His contributions are—“I’ll come to Thee” (p. 171). “It is not for Thine Eye of Blue” (p. 171). “Yes, Thyrsa, Yes” (p. 194). “Farewell Land of My Birth” (p. 197). “How Calm and Serene” (p. 303). “Think not when My Spirits” (p. 304). “Serenade” (p. 306). “Knowest Thou My Dearest” (p. 367). “How Sweet to Me” (p. 369). A copy of this volume has been placed in the Manchester Free Library by the present writer.

On the cessation of the _British Minstrel_, he began, in January, 1825, to write for _Nepenthes_, a Liverpool periodical. Still earlier, he is believed to have contributed to the _Whitby Magazine_.

From the age of eighteen to his death, at the age of twenty-four, he was a frequent and a welcome writer of prose and verse for the local periodicals. His range was by no means limited; he wrote art criticisms, essays in ethics, studies of modern poets, and verse in various styles and of varying quality. There is a musical flow about his lyrics that shows a genuine poetic impulse, but his talents had not time to ripen. His contributions to _Nepenthes_, _British Minstrel_, _Phœnix_, and _Manchester Gazette_ have never been collected, and it is too late for the task to be either attempted or justified. An essay of his on Drunkenness is reprinted in the _Temperance Star_ of May, 1890. The best of his poems is probably “Sir Gualter,” which is quoted in Procter’s “Literary Reminiscences” (p. 103). The same charming writer has devoted some pages to his memory in his “Memorials of Bygone Manchester” (p. 161). One example, “Babylon,” is given in Procter’s “Gems of Thought and Flowers of Fancy” (p. 47), and four lyrics appear in Harland’s “Lancashire Lyrics” (pp. 71-75). One of these, “The Invitation,” was printed—with another signature!—in the _Crichton Annual_, 1866. One of Rowlinson’s compositions—the “Autobiography of William Charles Lovell”—is said to be an account of his own experiences; this I have not seen. The story of his life is brief. He studied literature whilst earning his daily bread in a Manchester warehouse. He was a clerk in the employ of Messrs. Cardwell & Co., Newmarket Buildings, and to gratify his love of mountain scenery, he has been known to leave the town on Saturday night and walk to Castleton, in Derbyshire, and, after spending the Sunday there, walk home again through the night, to be ready for his Monday morning task. Literature did not wholly absorb him, for at twenty-four years of age he was a husband, with a son and an infant daughter. Early in 1829 he obtained a more congenial position as a traveller for the firm of Piggott, the famous compilers and publishers of directories. This gave him the opportunity of seeing Cambridge, where Kirke White is buried, and other places, whose historic and literary associations would appeal to his vivid imagination. But whilst enjoying thoroughly the beautiful scenery of the south, he pined for his northern home. Whilst bathing in the Thames he was drowned, June 22nd, 1829, and was buried in Bisham churchyard, on the 25th.[9]

The Manchester Free Library has copies of the exceedingly rare _Phœnix_ and _Falcon_, with the contributions of Rowlinson and others, identified in MS. In the _Phœnix_ “Bag-o-nails,” an imitation of the “Noctes Ambrosianæ,” he appears as Jeremiah Jingler. These periodicals, and the scrapbook, make as complete a collection of his scattered writings as is now possible.

John Bolton Rogerson and R. W. Procter have each borne affectionate testimony to the moral worth and literary promise of William Rowlinson. Soon after his death there appeared in the _Falcon_ some stanzas which declared,

“The great in soul from his earthly home,
In his youthful pride hath gone,
Where the bards of old will proudly greet
The Muses’ honoured son.

Oh, there is joy in the blessed thought
Thou art shrin’d on fame’s bright ray,
Though the stranger’s step is on thy grave
And thy friends be far away.”

We need not cherish illusions. The stranger’s step is on Rowlinson’s grave, but he is not “shrined on fame’s bright ray,” whatever and wherever that may be. No stone marks his grave, his very resting-place is unknown; we cannot even brush aside the grass from the forgotten and moss-grown tomb of William Rowlinson, one who perished in his early prime; whose music, faint, yet melodious, passed into silence before it could be shaped into a song the world would care to hear or to remember.

Footnote 9:

I have to thank the Vicar (Rev. T. E. Powell) for searching the
registers. There is no gravestone.

Literary Taste of the Eighteenth Century.

The literary tastes of our great-grandfathers may be supposed to be mirrored in a catalogue of the circulating library established in the middle of the last century at Manchester. The list of the subscribers includes the names of Mr. Edward Byrom, the Rev. Mr. Ethelston, Joseph Harrop, Titus Hibbert, Thomas Henry, Dr. Peploe, Richard Townley, and Dr. C. White. The late president of the Chetham Society had a book-loving predecessor, for the name of Mr. James Crossley is also in the list. The books are of a highly respectable character, and impress one with a favourable opinion of the pertinacity of those who could pursue knowledge tinctured with so slight a flavour of entertainment. Out of 452 books there are but twenty-two professing to be novels, and amongst these are “Don Quixote,” “Gil Blas,” “Devil upon Two Sticks,” “Sir Charles Grandison,” “Tristram Shandy,” and Sir Thomas More’s “Utopia.” The library had faith in “Fingal, an Ancient Epic Poem,” and patronised “Poet Ogden,” who wrote “The British Lion Roused.” Byrom, Deacon, and Callcott were also amongst their local authors. The readers who were tired of Mill’s “Husbandry” and of the “Principles of the Quakers Truly Represented,” might turn to Voltaire’s “Letters Concerning the English Nation,” or amuse themselves with Glanvill’s examination of “The Opinion of Eastern Sages Concerning the Pre-existence of Souls;” and if the daughter of the house obtained by chance the heterodox treatise which declares “Christianity as Old as the Creation,” she might have it changed for the “Young Misses’ Magazine,” or, still better, the “Matrimonial Preceptor.” Another fine avenue for the satisfaction of polite curiosity would be afforded by the study of the wonderful work in which Tobias Swinden discourses at large on the “Nature and Place of Hell,” and proves to his own satisfaction that “the fire of hell is not metaphorical but real,” and shows “the probability of the sun’s being the local hell.” At the end of the catalogue is an advertisement of a proposed musical circulating library, in which the neglect of church music is affirmed; “and if we continue our present fondness for things in the sing-song way, ’tis great odds but our present taste will be entirely changed, and, like some of our modern religious sects, we shall be so distressed as to rob the stage and playhouse to support and enrich our churches.” This is supported by a reference to “the Methodists, as they are call’d,” and their use of song tunes. The volume contains supplementary lists of additions down to June, 1768. These include the first edition of Chaucer and “The Vicar of Wakefield,” then in the early flush of fame. For the members not satisfied with Glanvill’s speculations, there had been added Berrow’s “Lapse of Human Souls in a State of Pre-existence,” and the studious character of the Mancunians received a delicate compliment by the purchase of Tissot’s “Treatise on the Diseases Incident to Literary Persons.” The additional subscribers included Mr. Nathaniel Philips, Rev. Mr. Dauntesey, and the Rev. John Pope. The number of works in the library in June, 1768, was 586, representing perhaps twice that number of volumes.

Hugh of Manchester:

A Statesman and Divine of the Thirteenth Century.[10]

“Let me be the remembrancer,” says Fuller when describing the worthies of Lancashire, “that Hugh of Manchester in this county wrote a book in the reign of King Edward the First, intituled, ‘De Fanaticorum Deliriis’ (Of the Dotages of Fanatics). At which time an impostor had almost made Eleanor the queen-mother mad, by reporting the posthume miracles done by her husband, King Henry the Third, till this our Hugh settled her judgment aright. I could wish some worthy divine (with such Lancashire doth abound) would resume this subject, and shew how ancient and modern fanatics, though differing much in their wild fancies and opinions, meet together in a mutual madness and distraction.”

The historians of Lancashire have generally followed Fuller in regarding Hugh of Manchester as a native of the county, but there is nothing to identify him with certainty, for his name may be referred alike to Lancashire or to Warwickshire, and the tests that can now be applied are not decisive. The pedigree in Dugdale’s “Warwickshire” does not show our churchman, though there is a Hugh de Mancestre who was one of the justices of Warwickshire 29, 30, 31, and 32 of Henry III. In the thirty-sixth year of that King he had a grant of free warren. He was then coroner for the county and next year escheator. He died 37 Henry III., leaving two sons, Simon and Walter. There is no place assigned to Hugh in this genealogy, but even if he belonged to the stock he may have been a collateral relative or he may have been omitted as a member of a religious order having theoretically no further interest in worldly affairs.

The date of his birth is unknown. Fuller, following the authority of Pits, says that he was, “when _Adolescens_ [a youth], a Dominican; but when _Juvenis_ [a young man] he changed his copy, and turned a Franciscan. Say not he degraded himself, choosing a later order then he left; for it seems that amongst them the last is counted the best, as of a more refined perfection. He was a great scholar, and highly esteemed in that age for his severity and discretion.” He was a Doctor of Divinity and Professor of Theology, and afterwards Provincial of the Franciscan Order in England. The most interesting incident in his life is that already named, and which led to the production of that one of his works which is most frequently named. The death of Henry III., in 1272, removed a good man but an incompetent monarch from a world where moral excellence does not supply the deficiency of administrative ability. But the rule of not speaking evil of the dead led some after Henry’s death to invest his memory with a sanctity that approached to a popular canonization. We may again quote Fuller, who is relying upon the authority of Bale: “An impostor happened at this time, pretending himself first blind, then cured at the tomb of King Henry the Third, so to get coin to himself, and credit to the dead King. But our Hugh discovered the cheat; and, writing a book, ‘De Fanaticorum Deliriis,’ dedicated it to King Edward the First, who kindly accepted thereof, preferring that his father’s memory should appear to posterity with his true face, than painted with such false miracles.” It is a matter of regret that this book has not survived; since it is creditable to an age when superstition too often conceded an unwarranted belief in baseless claims. That Hugh of Manchester had the skill to detect the imposture is honourable to his intellect, and Edward I. must be commended for the candour that rewarded the scholar who had dispersed from the kingly father some of that odour of sanctity with which ignorance had surrounded his memory.

There is an interesting reference to Hugh of Manchester in a letter sent by Archbishop John Romanus to Friar William de Hotham, who was afterwards Bishop of Dublin. This epistle is dated 10th December, 1293, and is printed in “Historical Papers and Letters, from the Northern Registers,” edited by James Raine (London, 1873, p. 102):—

“Suo suus salutem, gratiam et benedictionem. Quoniam in recessu
nostro apud Wixebrigg dixistis quod cum fratre Hugone de
Maincestre, colloquium habituri nobis aliqua significaretis,
dilectioni vestræ per experientiam multiplicem approbatæ notum
facimus per præsentes quod vobis, sicut diximus viva voce, de illa
cedula missa apud Schardeburgh occasione aliquorum falsorum nobis a
Fratribus et Minoribus impositorum, quicquid cum honestate
poterimus, dictante conscientia faciemus; verum quia, secundum quod
nostis, ad observationem canonum in professione nostra sumus
firmiter obligati, contra Constitutionem Generalem nihil ausi
erimus attemptare. Et quia, argumento nostro ipso inaudito, hec
etiam semiplene dicto respondere voluistis, ipsum argumentum vobis
scribimus, ut super illo, literatorie nobis satisfacere valeatis.
Et est argumentum tale. Supponamus quod curati teneantur curare
modo sic. Quicunque tenetur curare, tenetur vultum pecoris sui
cognoscere; sed vultum pecoris sui sufficienter cognoscere non
potest nisi confessionem subditi audiendo; ergo, quicunque tenetur
curare, tenetur confessionem sui subditi audire; et, ideo, credimus
quod omnis utriusque sexus constitutio facta fuit. Sed vos dicitis
quod qui confitentur Fratribus vestris et Minoribus non tenentur
confiteri proprio sacerdoti; ergo proprius sacerdos non tenetur
audire confessionem suam; sed, si non tenetur audire confessionem,
non tenetur cognoscere vultum suum. Ergo ad destructionem
consequentis non tenetur curare. Sed ex hypothesi in principio
argumenti curare tenetur. Ergo tenetur curare et non tenetur
curare; quæ sunt contradictorie opposita. Et, ut utamur verbis
doctoris nostri venerabilis Augustini, primo libro de Trinitate,
‘Non pigebit me,’ inquit ‘sic ubi hæsito quærere, nec pudebit sic
ubi erro discere. Quisquis ergo hæc audit vel legit, ubi pariter
certus est, purgat mecum; ubi pariter hæsitat quærat mecum; ubi
errorem suum cognoscit, redeat ad me; ubi mecum revocat me ad se,
ita ingrediamur simul caritatis viam, tendentes ad Eum de Quo
dictum est quærite faciem Ejus semper.’ Et quia in Constitutione
Martini continentur hæc verba, ‘Volumus autem quod hi qui Fratribus
confitebuntur, iidem parochialibus presbyteris confiteri semel in
anno, prout generale concilium statuit, nihilominus teneantur; et
quod Fratres eos diligenter et efficaciter secundum datam eis a
Domino gratiam exhortentur,’ ac nos diximus in cedula quod secundum
naturam privilegii sui ipsi Fratres sibi confitentibus injungant,
seu eos moneant et inducant quod semel in anno confiteantur proprio
sacerdoti. Quatenus a privilegio discrepat dictum nostrum parati
erimus, si vobis, placeat, revocare. Bene valete. Data apud Wycomb,
iiij idus Decembris, pontificatus nostri anno octavo.”

The following is a translation:—

“For his (son, Romanus, Archbishop) wisheth safety, grace, and
blessing. Since in our recess at Wilebrigg you said that, being
about to hold converse with Brother Hugh of Manchester, you would
point out to us some matters for consideration, we, for your love
proved by manifold experience, make known to you by means of this
writing, that, just as we said by living voice, about that document
sent from Schardeburgh on the occasion of certain falsehoods
imposed upon us by the Friars and Minors, whatsoever we can with
honesty, and under the dictates of conscience, we will do for you.
But because, as you know, we are in our profession firmly bound to
the observation of the canons, nothing dare we attempt against the
general constitution. And because our argument itself has not been
heard, and because you have not wished to respond to what had been
only half stated; we write for you the argument itself, in order
that you may be able to satisfy us by letter. And the argument is
this. Let us suppose that parish priests are bound to administer
their cure of souls thus. Whoever is bound to administer a cure of
souls is bound to know the face[11] of his flock. But he cannot
thoroughly know the face of his flock unless by hearing the
confession of him under his care. Therefore, he who is bound to
administer a cure of souls is bound to hear the confession of him
who is under his care; and we believe it was for that reason that
to every body, of either sex, a peculiar constitution was given.
But you say that they who confess to your Friars and Minors are not
bound to confess to their own proper priest. Therefore their own
priest is not bound to hear their confession. But if he is not
bound to hear their confession, he is not bound to know their face.
Therefore, to the destruction of the conclusion of the argument, he
is not bound to administer his cure of souls. But according to the
hypothesis in the beginning of the argument he is bound to
administer his cure of souls. Therefore he is bound, and he is not
bound, to administer his cure of souls. But these things are
contradictory. And, if I may use the words of our venerable teacher
Augustine, which occur in the first book concerning the Trinity:
‘It will not,’ he says, ‘be irksome to me thus to inquire wherever
I hesitate, nor shame me thus to learn wherever I err. Whoever,
therefore, hears or reads these words, let him, when he is equally
certain, cleanse himself as I do; when he is equally doubtful, let
him go with me and ask; when he knows his error, let him return to
me; when he recalls me to himself let us walk together the way of
charity, leading towards Him of Whom it has been written, ‘Seek ye
always His face.’ And because in the constitution of [Pope] Martin
these words are contained, ‘And we wish that these people who
confess to the Friars, the same may be bound nevertheless to
confess to their own parish priests, once in the year, according to
the statute of the general council; and that the Friars diligently
and efficaciously exhort them, according to the grace given them by
the Lord,’ so we said in the afore-mentioned attestation that the
Friars can, according to the nature of their privilege, enjoin upon
those confessing to them, or advise and persuade them, that once in
a year they confess to their own priest. In so far as what we have
said differs from the privilege, we shall be prepared, if it please
you, to revoke it. Fare ye well. Dated at Wycomb, IIII Ides of
December in the 8th year of our pontificate.”

The latest mention we have of Hugh of Manchester is in connection with his work as an ambassador. He was sent in 1294, in company with William of Gainsburgh, to demand on behalf of Edward III. the restitution of the lands claimed by the English King, but retained by force in the hands of Philip of France. On this appointment Fuller quaintly remarks: “Such who object, that fitter men than friars might have been found for that service, consider not how in that age such mortified men were presumed the most proper persons peaceably to compromise differences between the greatest princes.” There is a graphic account of the embassy in Robert of Brunne’s “Chronicle”:—

“Edward sendis his sond, to France messengers,
Frere Hugh of Malmcestre was a Jacobyn,
& William of Gaynesburgh was a Cordelyn.
Alle þise passid þe se, so com þe erle of Artoys
In prison did þam be a seuenyght in Caleys.
To Paris siþen þei cam, & þer fond þei þe kyng,
þei letter forth þei nam, to trowe þer saying.
þis letter of credence þei schewed in his present,
Here no þe accordance, what þer sayng ment,
Sir Hugh was a man of state, he said as I salle rede,
‘To Prince & to prelate men salle loute & drede,
& for lorde dere his biddyng salle men do,
To lesse & more in fere haf fayth & treuth also,
& for our lord Edward, þat God him saue & se,
We toke þis trauaile hard, his bode to bere to þe.
He settes þe terme & stage bi vs, whan & why
þat he has don homage for Gascoyn plenerley,
In forward formed in pes, as was þer acordance,
As ȝour ancestres ches of Inglond & of France
þei mad a pes final after þer contek,
þou has broken it alle, & don him many ille chek.
Now at his last goyng, when he to Gascoyn went,
Ȝe cette a certeyn þing, at ȝour boþe assent,
& þat suld holden be, euer withouten ende,
þou brak þat certeynte wickkedly & vnhende
Ȝit he biddes þe se, how wrong þou wilt him lede,
Bituex him & þe was mad a priue dede,
Of Gascoyn certeyn was þat feffement,
Forto feffe him ageyn in þat tenement.
þi seisyn is well knowen þe days has þou plenere,
To restore him his owen, he sent to þe duzepers
As lawe wild & right, and couenant was in scrite.
Ȝeld it, þou has no right, with wrong holdes it in lite,
Ageyn alle maner skille, & ȝit þon ert so grefe.
For whilom þon wrote him tille, & cald him in þi brefe,
þi kynde, faythfulle & leale of Gascoyn noble duke,
þerto þou set þi seal, þat right wilt þou rebuke.
Neuer siþen hiderward suilk speche vnte him touched,
Werfore our kyng Edward n þouht fulle well has souched.
þou holdes him not þi man, no þing holdand of þe,
Ne þe þinkes neuer for þan, to mak þe more feaute.
Ne hopes to wynne þat land with dynt of douhty knyght
Of God he claymes holdand & neuer of no right.
At þis tyme is not els of Sir Edward to seye,
Bot of Edmunde þat duellis with him als breþer tueye
Forbi any oþer with him will hold & be,
He is lord & broþer, he certifies þat to þe.
þat no man in þis werlde he hifes so mykelle no dredis,
Ne with him is none herd so mykelle may help at nedis,
For he sees so well ȝour grete controued gile,
Ageyn his broþer ilk dele compassed in a while,
Reft him his heritage, sais on him felonie,
He ȝeldes vp his homage, forsakis þi companie,
& þerto alle þe londes, þat he held of þe,
& ȝeldes vp alle þe lordes of homage & feaute,
Saue þe right þat may falle of our ancestres olde,
Vnto þer heires alle to haf and to holde.
We er pouer freres, þat haf nought on to lyue,
In stede of messengeres, saue condite vs gyue,
þorgh þi lond to go in þin auowrie,
þat non vs robbe or slo, for þi curteysse.’”

—“Robert of Brunne,” vol. ii., 258, 9, 60.

On receiving the King’s reply and safe conduct,

“þei had redy wending, at Douer þei toke lond
& sped þam to þe kyng, at London þei him fond.”

After the conclusion of this embassy we hear no more of Hugh of Manchester. The only additional fact concerning him that is known is that he wrote a “Compendium Theologiæ” and some other works, of which not even the titles have survived.

Footnote 10:

The authorities for the biography of Hugone de Maincestre are
Dugdale’s “History of Warwickshire,” p. 763; Gregson’s “Fragments,”
p. 235; Baines’s “History of Lancashire,” vol. ii., pp. 193, 356;
vol. iv., p. 826; “Nicholas: Trivet Annales,” 1845 (and in Daccher,
_Spicil. Vet. Scrip._, tom. viii.); “Robert of Brunne’s Rhyming
Chronicle;” Hibbert-Ware’s “Foundations of Manchester;” “Pits de
Angliæ Scriptoribus;” “Bale de Scriptoribus Britannicis,” cent. v.,
num. 62; Fuller’s “Worthies of England.” If the reader desires to see
an example of the method of building without bricks, he may with
advantage consult the notice of Hugh of Manchester in Edwin
Butterworth’s “Biography of Eminent Natives of Manchester.”

Footnote 11:

_Vultus_ is here translated literally. The metaphor is one frequently
used, and is a reference to John x., 14.

Mrs. Fletcher in Lancashire.

In the autobiography of Mrs. Fletcher, who was for many years a conspicuous figure in Edinburgh society, there are some interesting references to Lancashire people.

Eliza Dawson was born at Tadcaster in 1770, and came of good yeoman stock, from whom she inherited a steady-going Liberalism that equally avoided the extremes of “divine right” either of kings or mobs. The beauty and good nature of the girl attracted admiration even in her school days, and she had to reduce several worthy young men to temporary despair by the rejection of their proposals of marriage. Mr. Fletcher, who became her husband, was twenty years her senior, and fell in love with her because she realized his ideal of Sophia Western in “Tom Jones”! He was a well-known Edinburgh lawyer, and in her new home she met Scott, Jeffery, and Brougham. Later she made the acquaintance of Wordsworth, Southey, Arnold, Lafeyette, Mrs. Gaskell, Mazzini, Kossuth, and a variety of other distinguished persons. Her husband died in 1838, but she survived for thirty years. Her latter days were spent at Grasmere, where she died in 1858. The impression made by this gifted woman upon those with whom she came in contact is vividly shown by the description which Margaret Fuller has left of her. “Seventy-six years have passed over her head, only to prove in her the truth of my theory that we need never grow old. She was ‘brought up’ in the animated and intellectual circle of Edinburgh, in youth an apt disciple, in her prime a bright ornament of that society. She had been an only child, a cherished wife, an adored mother, unspoiled by love in any of these relations, because that love was founded on knowledge. In childhood she had warmly sympathised in the spirit that animated the American Revolution, and Washington had been her hero; later, the interest of her husband in every struggle for freedom had cherished her own. She had known in the course of her long life many eminent men, and sympathised now in the triumph of the people over the corn laws, as she had in the American victories, with as much ardour as when a girl, though with a wiser mind. Her eye was full of light, her manner and gesture of dignity; her voice rich, sonorous, and finely modulated; her tide of talk marked by candour and justice, showing in every sentence her ripe experience and her noble genial nature. Dear to memory will be the sight of her in the beautiful seclusion of her home among the mountains, a picturesque, flower-wreathed dwelling, where affection, tranquillity, and wisdom were the gods of the hearth to whom was offered no vain oblation. Grant us more such women, time! Grant to men to reverence, to seek for such!”

She owed much of her religious feeling to the influence of the Rev. John Clowes. “It was in the winter of 1788 that I met, at the house of the Misses Hutton (two excellent maiden ladies) at Tadcaster, the Rev. John Clowes, rector of St. John’s Church, in Manchester. The bond between these pious and primitive old ladies and Mr. Clowes was, I believe, their mutual admiration of the writings of Emanuel Swedenborg. Although I could not participate in their enthusiasm for that visionary writer, I think it was from Mr. Clowes’s conversation and writings that I first became interested in the spiritual sense of true religion, or, in other words, felt its experimental truth; and I wish here to preserve the following transcript of the conversation which I made from memory after passing the evening with Mr. Clowes at Miss Hutton’s. Several ladies, some of the Methodist persuasion, were present. His views have always appeared to me to contain much of the true spirit of Christianity. Being asked his opinion of Mr. Law’s works, Mr. Clowes said, ‘I read them, madam, with great diligence and much affection, and I found that they tended to produce a pure, holy, and peaceable frame of mind, but I found likewise that they disqualified a man for the duty of his calling. I could not even go to perform my duty in the church without finding something to disturb me. This made me conjecture that all was not right in Mr. Law’s doctrine, and I conceive it to be this: that it is admirably suited for the contemplative but not for the active life of man, inasmuch as it does not bring the outward man into entire subjection to the inner man, for man has two lives, or two beings, in his very best state while on earth.’... When asked what he conceived to be the state of the blessed, he replied in a calm, but animated tone of voice, ‘I conceive the state of the blessed to be a total forgetfulness or absence of _self_, and to consist in beholding the good and happiness of others, so that every individual will enjoy the whole happiness of heaven.’... Every man is according to his own desire, for assuredly the Lord wills the good and happiness of all His creatures. If a man says he desires to be better, and that he is unhappy because his desire is not fulfilled, let not that man be impatient; he has begun to bear his cross, and if he bears it patiently, humbly waiting for a better state, he will certainly obtain his desire. The good he did, because he saw it was commanded, will soon be his delight; and to delight in good is the temper and disposition of angels.”

In the year 1808, during a visit to Lancashire, her friend, Miss Kennedy, made her acquainted with the family of Mr. Greg, at Quarry Bank. “We stayed a week with them, and admired the cultivation of mind and refinement of manners which Mrs. Greg preserved in the midst of a money-making and somewhat unpolished community of merchants and manufacturers. Mr. Greg, too, was most gentlemanly and hospitable, and surrounded by eleven clever and well-educated children. I thought them the happiest family group I had ever seen. Miss Kennedy also took me to visit her friends, the Rathbone family, at Green Bank, near Liverpool, and we there met Mr. Roscoe, the elegant-minded author of the ‘Life of Lorenzo de’ Medici.’ Mr. Roscoe took us to his beautiful residence at Ollerton Hall, and charmed us by the good taste of his varied and agreeable powers of conversation. He had been returned member for Liverpool during the Whig Ministry of 1806, and both he and Mr. Rathbone had taken a decided part in the cause of the abolition of the slave trade. We were taken to see the last ship which had sailed from the port of Liverpool for trade in human beings. It was then undergoing a change for the stowage of other goods than those wretched negroes who had formerly been crammed in the space between decks not more than four feet high. The iron hooks remained to which they had been chained. It was a sickening sight,—but those chains were broken. We stayed some days at Green Bank, where we enjoyed the society of the venerable William Rathbone, the zealous friend of civil and religious liberty. It was he, and Mr. Roscoe, and Dr. Currie, who by their personal influence and exertions established the first literary and philosophical society at Liverpool, and induced their fellow-townsmen to think and feel that there were other objects besides making money which ought to occupy the time and thoughts of reasonable beings.”

Mr. W. E. Forster, on a visit to Mrs. Fletcher, brought with him “Mary Barton,” which had then only just appeared, and was still anonymous. Mrs. Fletcher says:—“We were at once struck with its power and pathos, and it was with infinite pleasure I heard that it was written by the daughter of one whom I both loved and reverenced in my early married life in Edinburgh, so that I had a two-fold pleasure in making Mrs. Gaskell’s acquaintance through Miss M. Beever, who knew her at Manchester, and who told me that she always asked about me with interest.”

She visited Liverpool again in February, 1848, where Mrs. Rathbone, of Green Bank, introduced her to that worthy Irishwoman, “Catharine of Liverpool,” whose history is one of the romances of poverty.[12]

In 1851 she was in Manchester, and after dining with Mrs. Gaskell, went to hear Kossuth in the Free Trade Hall. She was delighted with the orator, pleased with the crowd, who considerately made way for the white-haired old gentlewoman, and impressed by the interest in foreign politics shown by “this great town of Manchester.” Next morning at breakfast she met Thomas Wright, the prison philanthropist, then a hale man of sixty-six.

Her autobiography was edited by her daughter, Lady Richardson, and published in 1875 by Edmondston & Douglas. Another edition appeared in the United States in 1883.

Mrs. Fletcher had not only ability, but the subtler gift of sympathy. She had an instinctive feeling for that which was beautiful alike in the spheres of literature and morals.

Footnote 12:

An interesting account of this benevolent woman is given in
“Chambers’s Miscellany,” 1872, vol. iv., No. 50.

Manchester and the First Reform Agitation.

The reform agitation began in Manchester in 1792, and its history is instructive and too little known by the present generation. The town, which was heartily Republican in the Civil Wars, was as heartily Jacobite in the earlier part of the eighteenth century, and in its closing years was dominated by the sworn friends of intolerance and privilege. The vainly proposed repeal in 1789 of the Corporation and Test Acts, by which the Nonconformists were excluded from all municipal offices, led to the formation in Manchester of a “Church and King Club,” whose members showed their loyalty by deep potations and their piety by wearing buttons which bore a representation of the “Old Church.” An era of bitter party feeling now set in. Those who were Dissenters, those who were suspected of thinking that Manchester and other important manufacturing towns should be represented in Parliament, those who ventured to regard the sale of pocket-boroughs as a scandal, those who hinted that any improvement was possible in the constitution of a Parliament that was notoriously non-representative and that included many members who owed their position to improper and corrupt influences, were marked out for social ostracism and persecution. The Liberals of that day banded themselves together and formed the Manchester Constitutional Society, which in May, 1792, set forth as one of its objects that “members of the House of Commons should owe their seats to the good opinion and free suffrage of the people at large, and not to the prostituted votes of venal and corrupt boroughs.” The Government immediately issued a proclamation against “wicked and seditious writings,” and called upon the magistrates to take rigorous action. The King’s birthday was celebrated by illuminations, and the partisans of the “glorious Constitution,” which denied them the rights of citizenship, tore up a couple of the trees growing in St. Ann’s Square, and tried to batter down the gates of the Unitarian chapels in Cross Street and Mosley Street. The publicans were warned that their licences would be forfeited if they allowed any gatherings of the reformers upon their premises. No less than 186 of them signed an agreement to that effect, and in some of the taverns was a conspicuous announcement, “No Jacobins admitted here.” The war with France was hailed with delight by the adherents to the old order, and was deeply deprecated by the reformers. A man of great talent, Thomas Cooper, issued an address on the evils of war, and this, with other dissuasives, appeared in the _Manchester Herald_, a newspaper which the reformers had started. Encouraged by the authorities of the town, a drunken mob attacked the printing office and sacked it. The Rev. J. Griffith declared that he would not act against the rioters if called upon to do so, and a special constable offered the mob a guinea for “every Jacobin’s house that they pulled down.” A friend of the printer’s applied to the constable for help, and was answered by a threat of being kicked out of the place. The leader of the reformers was Mr. Thomas Walker, and his house also was selected for attack. He and his friends defended the place with firearms. The conduct of the rioters was defended by Wyndham in the House of Commons, and a prosecution was instituted, not against the law-breakers, but against Mr. Walker. He had firearms in his possession, and therefore he had “obtained arms to wage war against the King.” The case came on at the Lancaster Spring Assizes, but the principal witness proved himself to be a shuffling perjurer, and Law, afterwards Lord Ellenborough, saw the matter to be so hopeless that he threw up the case. Thomas Cooper left the town for America, where he obtained high distinction as a chemist, jurist, and political economist. The reformers were helpless and almost hopeless. The war fever had seized the nation; the right of public meeting and the freedom of the press were the subject of constant attack. The law against seditious assemblies was used as a means of prohibiting any public expression of disapprobation of the state of the Constitution or the acts of the Government. It was denounced by Charles James Fox, and a very whimsical protest was made against it in Manchester, which is thus described in a newspaper of the time:—“On Monday evening (28th December, 1796), the members of the Manchester Thinking Club commenced their first mental operation by beginning to think, or in other words, submitting themselves like good subjects to a constitutional dumbness. The number of thinkers assembled was not less than 300, and many of the thoughtful actually came from Liverpool, Stockport, and other remote places to witness this novel spectacle. The members were all muzzled, and such an imposing silence prevailed for one hour as would have done honour to the best thinkers that ever adorned assemblies of a more dignified nature. The word ‘Mum’ appeared in large characters on every muzzle, and except a seditious sigh or a treasonable groan that occasionally broke forth, ‘Mum’ was literally the order of the night.” Here is an advertisement of the meetings of the “Thinking Club”:—“The members of this truly constitutional Society continue to meet for the intellectual purpose of silent contemplation every Thursday evening, at the Coopers’ Arms, Cateaton Street, where strong constitutional muzzles are provided at the door by Citizen Avery, tailor to the swinish multitude. The questions still to be thought of are: Is man really a thinking animal or not? and if he is, as thinking is rather a troublesome operation of the mind, ought he not to be thankful that his betters kindly think for him? The chair to be taken at half-past seven. Thinking to begin precisely at eight.”

But war brought its usual concomitant of want, and the sufferings of the people led to deep-seated discontent. The weavers called a meeting for the 24th of May, 1808, to ask for the establishment of a minimum rate of wages. The meeting was resumed on the following day, and although it was quite orderly, the Riot Act was read, and the military were ordered to clear the ground. One of the weavers was killed, several were wounded, and several arrested. Colonel Hanson, the commander of a local volunteer corps, tried to persuade the men to disperse by a promise that their interests should be looked after. This was giving “encouragement to the rioters,” and for this he was sentenced to a fine of £100 and six months’ imprisonment in the King’s Bench. Meanwhile the policy of the Government increased the distress of the nation, so that in the cotton districts the people were half-starved, and a scanty dinner of oatmeal and water was too often the only meal in the four and twenty hours. A town’s meeting was called for 8th April, 1812, to thank the Regent for retaining the Anti-Reform Ministry of Castlereagh and Sidmouth. The reformers immediately issued placards calling upon the public to attend. The promoters of the meeting, alarmed at the thought of opposition, now announced that it would not be held, as the staircase was too weak to sustain the pressure of a crowd. People assembled for the expected meeting, and the Exchange was soon surrounded. No authentic account of the beginning of the riot has appeared, but the present writer was informed by an eye-witness that the last touch was put to the anger of the populace by a merchant who afterwards made himself an evil reputation. He was standing at the door of the Exchange, and as a chimney-sweep passed by he struck the lad’s black face with his walking-cane. The populace forced their way into the room, the furniture was destroyed, the windows broken, and the military had to be called out before the place was cleared. This was followed during the next fortnight by food riots and by machine breaking. The authorities, instead of seeing in the existing discontent the symptoms of evils needing remedy, treated every expression of a desire for reform as a crime to be punished with merciless severity. Spies were actively at work fanning the disaffection of the operatives in order to betray them if they could be inveigled into illegality. In 1815, the Corn Law was passed whilst the House of Commons was guarded by soldiers. The Manchester meeting held to protest against its passage was presided over by Mr. Hugh Hornby Birley, who was then Boroughreeve. In 1815, a number of the Radical reformers, chiefly of the artisan class, resolved to adopt an address to the Prince Regent and a petition to the House of Commons in favour of peace and Parliamentary reform. They met at the Elephant, in Tib Street, but hearing that the meeting was likely to be broken up they adjourned to the Prince Regent’s Arms, in Ancoats. John Knight, who was their recognised leader, had just concluded a speech when the room was entered by the famous “Jo” Nadin with a blunderbuss in his hands, and followed by a number of soldiers with fixed bayonets. The reformers were arrested and marched, with their hands tied, to the New Bailey. They were taken before the Rev. W. R. Hay, who, with the gross partiality for which he was notorious, refused to allow Fleming, the spy-witness, to be cross-examined. They were tried at Lancaster in the following August, when Nadin, the constable, admitted that he had sent Fleming as a decoy, and that the spy had asked to be “twisted in”—that is, to be sworn as a member of a seditious society. All who were found in the room were included in the common indictment, and thus could not testify in each other’s behalf. Fortunately Nadin had been too precipitate, and one man escaped his notice. He testified that no oath had been administered, and it was further shown that the two men said to have put the oath to the spy were elsewhere at the time. The thirty-seven prisoners were defended by Brougham and Scarlett, and triumphantly acquitted. They had, however, been in prison for three months, they had been taken from their homes and daily avocations, and it was by the merest good luck that they had escaped transportation.

The writings of William Cobbett had great influence upon the working classes, and his incessant cry for reform met with sympathetic response. The Sunday schools had given elementary instruction to the stronger brains, and native shrewdness, tutored by suffering and hardship, had made them into intelligent politicians. They knew where the shoe pinched, and in spite of some errors of judgment had a clearer conception than their “betters” of the remedy. Sam Bamford, the weaver-poet, was the secretary of a political club at Middleton for Parliamentary reform as a means of obtaining the repeal of the Corn Laws and other desirable objects, and similar clubs existed all over the county.