Chapter IV: Part 4

On the appointed evening they assembled at the house of Will, the cobbler, where they donned sundry disguises, armed themselves with cudgels, an axe, a crowbar, and a wooden wedge, and sallied forth into the moonlight. Squire's farmhouse lay at a little distance from the village, shrouded in trees. It was occupied by himself, a widower, and his married daughter, Elizabeth Beecroft; whilst in the barn, on that night, slept one Jane Beanland. The moon was nearly at full, but masses of clouds drifted across its face, obscuring its beams, so that it only shone out at intervals. As they approached the house at midnight a profound silence prevailed; not a dog barked, and it was only broken occasionally by the distant hooting of an owl. A minute or two were only required to force open the door by the application of the wedge and three or four blows of the axe, and Heber, Hudson, and Pollard entered the house, the others remaining outside. The old man had been awakened by the noise of forcing the door open, and he came from his bedroom half-dressed, demanding what they wanted by thus breaking into his house. "Money," was the reply, "and if you do not give it up we shall take it." "I have got no money for you," he answered, and, seizing upon a poker, he stood upon his defence, but was overpowered by a blow on the head, and the robbers then prized open his desk, but found in it not more than fifty shillings, and broke open a cupboard, taking from it a piece of beef, after which they went away, much disappointed at the smallness of their booty. Notwithstanding their disguise, they had been identified, Squire, in his deposition, stating that he recognised Tom Heber by his stature and the softness of his hand, which he felt when struggling with him; Elizabeth, his daughter, whose room they had entered and "nearly smothered her in the bed clothes," also recognised "Mr. Thos. Heber," as one of the party; and Jane Beanland deposed that, as she lay in the barn, she heard the voices of Mr. Thos. Heber, of Holling, and William Hudson, of Ilkley, when they were breaking open the door. Moreover, Elizabeth Longfellow gave evidence that going into the alehouse of Josias Laycock, where Walter Pollard was drinking, she overheard him say, "I am now making Bess Squire's half-crowns fly." They had left behind them also an iron gavelock, a staff, and a wedge, which were identified as having been in their possession a day or two before the crime was committed.

These facts having come to light, warrants were issued for the apprehension of the offenders, and they were brought before Walter Hawkesworth, of Hawkesworth, the nearest magistrate. This gentlemen was a friend of Serjeant Heber, and, knowing Tom well, he expressed his regret at seeing him placed in that situation, who, however, laughingly replied that it was only done for a lark, but the magistrate, after hearing the depositions, with a grave countenance, said "It might be a lark, but at the same time it was a felony, and a serious outrage of the law, and he had no alternative but to commit them to York for trial at the assizes."

They were consequently arraigned at the assizes on a charge of burglary, but escaped the usual severe punishment, partly on the ground that the crime was committed as a frolic, which was the line of defence, partly through family influence, and partly through the powerful agency of money.

It is a remarkable fact that there were then resident in Ilkley two families--the Hebers, of whom was the criminal, and the Longfellows, a member of whom was a witness on the trial against him, and that from them are descended two of the most charming poets of modern times--Reginald Heber, Bishop of Calcutta, author of "Palestine," and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, whose writings are as much admired in England as in his native America.

The Ingilby Boar's Head.

The crest of the Ingilbys of Ripley is "A boar's head couped and erect arg., tusked or," which was obtained by an early knight of the family, in a romantic fashion, and as the reward for a valiant achievement.

In the reign of Edward the Confessor the manor of Ripley was held by Merlesweyn, a powerful Danish lord, and owner of many another manor and estate in the same district. He joined in the Gospatric insurrection against William the Conqueror, in favour of Edgar the Atheling, for which rebellion his lands were confiscated, and granted to Ralph de Paganel, a Norman noble who had fought at Hastings, and who besides became Lord of Leeds, Headingley, and extensive estates on the Ouse, the Aire, and the Nidd; holding the Merlesweyn estates _in capite_ from the King; Leeds, etc., by the service of a knight's fee and a half, under the Lacies of Pontefract; whilst lands at Adel, Arthington, etc., devolved on him in right of his wife, Matilda, daughter of Richard de Surdeval. He was the founder of the Priory of the Holy Trinity, York, upon which, in 1080, he bestowed the churches of Leeds and Adel.

From the Paganels, Ripley passed to the Trusbut family, how does not appear, and from them, by the marriage of the heiress, to the family of de Ros of Ingmanthorpe, a branch of the de Ros's of Hamlake and Holderness, who became the superior lords, under whom the manor was held for half a knight's fee, early in the twelfth century, by a family whose previous name is not recorded, but who adopted that of de Ripley from their possessions. From this family descended the famous Canon of Bridlington, Sir George de Ripley, in the fifteenth century, the alchymist and "discoverer" of the philosopher's stone, as he professed, in 1470, and who contributed annually vast sums of money to the Knights of Rhodes for maintaining their warfare against the Mussulmans.

The Ingilbys are of Scandinavian origin, seated for a long period at Engelby, in Lincolnshire, whence they derived their surname, who, at the time of Domesday Book held three manors in Lincolnshire, two in the North Riding of Yorkshire, under the Bishop of Durham and William of Poictou, and one in Derbyshire. In 1350, or thereabouts, Sir Thomas de Ingilby, Justice of the Common Pleas, married Catherine of Luerne, daughter and heiress of Bernard (?) de Ripley, and came into possession of the Ripley estates, where he settled, and, seven years afterwards, obtained a charter for an annual fair and weekly market at Ripley.

The Ingilbys, still extant, have held a distinguished place among the families of Yorkshire, and many members of the family have been entrusted with high offices in Church and State, and become eminent in the field.

John Ingilby (_temp._ Richard II.), was the second founder of and benefactor to the Carthusian Monastery of Mount Grace, in Cleveland. John, born at Ripley in 1434, "did wondrously flourish in the reign of Henry VI." Sir William, his son, was knighted by "Lord Gloucester on Milton Field, in Holland, in 1482," for valour. A John de Ingilby was Prior of Sheen and Bishop of Llandaff, 1496-1500. Sir William, born 1515, was High Sheriff of Yorkshire and Treasurer of Berwick, _temp._ Elizabeth. David, his second son, married Anne Nevile, daughter of Charles, sixth Earl of Westmoreland, by which marriage his representatives, with those of Nicholas Pudsey, are co-heirs of the abeyant Barony of Nevile of Raby. Francis, third son of Sir William, was a Roman Catholic priest, and was executed at York, in 1586, for performing the functions of his office in the realm. John, fifth son of Sir William, was presented in the list of recusants in 1604. William, eldest son of Sampson of Spofforth, fourth son of Sir William, was created baronet in 1642, and fought on the King's side at Marston Moor. His castle at Ripley was garrisoned for the King, and Cromwell, after the battle of Marston Moor, passing through Ripley, demanded lodgings for the night, which was at first refused by Lady Ingilby, but he was, after a parley, admitted, on the promise that his followers should not be guilty of any impropriety. She received him with a couple of pistols stuck in her apron string, and on leaving in the morning, he inquired the meaning of the two weapons. "I'll tell you," she replied, "why I had two; it was that the second might be ready in case the first missed fire, for if you had behaved otherwise than peaceably I should have pistolled you without the least remorse." Sir William rebuilt Ripley Castle. In one of the towers is the following inscription:--"In the yiere of owre Ld. M.D.L.V. was this towre buyldyd by Sir Willyam Ingilby, Knight; Philip and Mary reigning that time." In the great staircase window is a series of escutcheons on stained glass, containing the arms of Ingilby and of the families with whom they had inter-married. Sir William, the second baronet, purchased the manor of Armley from the Mauliverers. Sir John, the fourth baronet died 1772, when the baronetcy expired. The baronetcy was revived in 1781, in the person of John Ingilby, an illegitimate son of the fourth baronet of the previous creation. Sir William Amcotts, his fourth son, succeeded to the baronetcy of his maternal grandfather, Sir Wharton Amcotts, by special remainder, and to that of his father in 1815, but died S.P., in 1854, when the baronetcy expired.

In 1866 the baronetcy was again restored, in the person of the Rev. Henry John, nephew of the above Sir John, in his succession by will to the Ripley estates, whose son, Sir Henry Day is the present holder, with (according to the new Domesday Book, of 1876) an acreage in the West Riding of 10,000, producing a rental of £11,149 per annum.

In Ripley Castle there is, or was, a full-length portrait of a knight of the Ingilby family, attired in the hunting costume of the Plantagenet times, with the head of a wild boar at his feet. This is the presentment of Sir William Ingilby, a doughty warrior and a hunter of renown, who lived in the troublous reign of Edward II. Although the representative of the family still lived in Lincolnshire, not having yet acquired the Ripley estates, this Sir William resided on one of the Yorkshire estates not far distant from Ripley, and would be on terms of intimacy with the family of de Ripley, whose heiress was won by Sir Thomas Ingilby, the Justice of the Common Pleas, and who possibly might have been the son of Sir William. Sir William had gained some renown in the Scottish wars of King Edward I. against William Wallace, and had been an ardent and loyal supporter of the weak and unfortunate second Edward on his accession to the throne, from the fact of his being the son of the great and glorious King, the first of that name.

He remained loyal until the King gave himself up into the hands of his favourite, Piers Gaveston, who humoured his naturally depraved inclinations, and led him into acts of malgovernment, which estranged the hearts of the people. He loaded him with benefits, bestowing on him great estates and much treasure. Amongst other grants he gave him the Lordship of Knaresborough Castle and forest, with divers liberties, franchises, and privileges, which led him to assume a high and dictatorial tone to the nobles of the realm, who expostulated with the King, and compelled him to banish the insolent foreigner. But the King, not able to learn wisdom in the school of experience, recalled him and bestowed fresh benefits upon him, which so exasperated the Barons that they rose in arms, with Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, at their head, captured the favourite in Scarborough Castle, and beheaded him. The King then took the Spensers into his favour, who became more intolerably oppressive than their predecessor, upon which the Barons again rose in arms, but were defeated in a battle at Boroughbridge, and nearly a hundred barons, knights, and other prisoners put to death, the Earl of Lancaster being beheaded at Pontefract. In the sequel, however, the Spensers met the same fate as Gaveston, the elder being executed at Bristol, and the younger at Hereford.

Notwithstanding his personal loyalty, Sir William became so disgusted at the imbecile conduct of the King, and the arrogance of his favourites, that he took up arms with the Barons for the purpose of removing them from the Royal councils. A bloody revenge was taken by the King on the leaders and more prominent members of the conspiracy, but those of lesser degree were permitted to escape capital punishment, being punished by fines, confiscations, etc., and lay under a cloud of disgrace until the barbarous murder of the King in Berkley Castle, and the accession of Edward III., removed the stigma.

In this latter category was included Sir William Ingilby, who would most probably have remained alienated from the good graces of the King had not a fortunate circumstance occurred, which restored him to favour, and which had an influence in enhancing the dignity of the family.

Sir William's residence was in the valley of the Nidd, "one of the most romantic, picturesque, and wealthy vales in England." Spreading around for a distance of several miles lay the magnificent Forest of Knaresborough, the home of wild cattle, wolves, wild boars, the roebuck, and other ferocious animals of the chase. To the east stood, on its craggy and almost inaccessible rock, overhanging the Nidd and the then small village of Knaresborough, the formidable fortress of Serlo de Burgh, whilst on the verge of the forest stood the splendid monastic establishments of Fountains, Bolton, Ripon, and other lesser houses. The forest has the reputation of having been one of the haunts of Robin Hood, one portion bearing traditionally the name of "Robin Hood's Park," whence he issued to pay his visits to the Abbey of Fountains, as recorded in ballad lore. In the western portion of the forest lay the Royal chase of Haverah Park (Hey-wra, the park of the wra or roe), consisting of 2,000 acres, densely wooded, and inhabited by beasts of chase, which were kept together and preserved by an oak paling, which encircled the park. The road thither from Knaresborough ran through the forest south of the Nidd, and across an upland, since famous for its chalybeate springs, and where there were then a few scattered cottages, forming a small hamlet, which came to be designated Heynragate--the road to Heynra Park--which has since been corrupted into Harrogate, and has become one of the most fashionable inland watering places in the kingdom.

The Castle and forest of Knaresborough were granted to Serlo de Burgh, who built the castle, after whom they were alternately in the hands of the Crown, or of some Royal favourite on whom they had been bestowed. Edward II. made a grant of them to Piers Gaveston, on whose death they reverted to the Crown. It was during this period that the King came to Knaresborough Castle to relax himself from the cares and anxieties of Royalty, by three or four days' hunting in Haverah Park. He was not attended by a large retinue, being only accompanied by three or four friends, and a few body servants; huntsmen, beaters, and other attendants of the chase being permanently retained there, as well as hounds and all the requisite hunting gear and weapons; this was because of his unpopularity with the people, on account of his governing the realm upon the advice of unworthy favourites. Hence he came down with some degree of secrecy, in a species of incognito, and it was not known generally to the residents of the valley who the hunter was, the supposition being that he was some friend of the King's, who had been given permission to hunt in Haverah chase.

The day following his arrival at Knaresborough, the King rode through the forest to Haverah, accompanied by his friends, and a following of attendants bearing bows and arrows, boar spears, beating staves, and other implements of hunting, who were on foot. On entering the enclosures the attendants sent their dogs amongst the underwood and commenced beating the bushes, with loud cries to start the game. As these were very plentiful, a number of small animals, badgers, foxes, polecats, etc., were roused from their lairs in quick succession, and afforded considerable sport. Two or three stags were also started, one of which was killed by the King, by an arrow shot; and a wolf made his appearance, who displayed great pugnacity, and caused great excitement amongst the hunters. Towards noon the King and his friends sat down to a refection under the shadow of a patriarchal oak, which, from its size and evident age, rendered it possible that it might have witnessed the Druidical mysteries of the Brigantes. Again the beaters and dogs commenced their operations, and were rewarded by the appearance of a huge wild boar, armed with a formidable pair of tusks, who rushed into the glade where the hunters were assembled. The dogs rushed upon him, barking with eagerness, and the King and his friends, taking boar spears from the attendants, rode at a gallop towards the animal, who gazed upon them for a few moments, as if to measure the strength of his opponents, and then turned and dashed amongst the underwood, followed by the hounds and the hunters.

Two or three of the dogs, venturing too near the boar, were instantly ripped up, and the hunters followed as best they might through the tangled brushwood. The King, who was better mounted than his friends, soon left them behind, and, brandishing his spear, followed in the track made by the boar, not without sundry scratches from the projecting branches of the forest trees; but the boar still kept ahead, occasionally turning to look at the hounds who were yelping at his heels, and then dashing onward again; whilst the King, mounted on a powerful and fleet horse, gradually gained on the beast, despite the obstacles that beset his path.

Although the forest of Knaresborough was a Royal appanage, the foresters, as the inhabitants of the district were called, possessed certain privileges of hunting therein, with certain limits; from Haverah Park alone were they excluded, that domain being reserved exclusively for the King and those to whom he gave permission to hunt in the enclosure. Sir William Ingleby being a "forester," therefore had the right of following game in the forest outside the palings of Haverah. On the same day that the King went to hunt in Haverah Park, Sir William went out, boar spear in hand, in search of sport. He was not accompanied by either attendant or dog, trusting alone to his own natural prowess, in case he should meet with game. In his wanderings he had come near the palings of the park, and sat down to partake of a luncheon he had brought with him in his pocket. He was just finishing his meal when he heard the cry of hunting dogs, and immediately afterwards a crashing sound. Looking up he saw the palings give way, and a huge boar rushing through the gap, followed by half a dozen dogs and a man on horseback. He had just time to observe that the hunter was clad in a buff jerkin, with high-reaching boots, and was brandishing a boar spear and encouraging the hounds, when the boar, finding himself so hotly pursued, turned at bay, drove his tusks into a couple of the dogs, and then sprang upon the hunter, overturning the horse, and laying the hunter prostrate on the sward. He was just on the point of dashing his tusks into the body of the fallen enemy, when Sir William rushed up, and with well directed aim struck his spear into the heart of the boar, which fell lifeless at his feet, and then, taking his knife from his girdle, with a huntsman's skill severed the head from the body, the whole occupying but a few minutes.

"And who are you, my brave fellow?" inquired the fallen hunter, whom Sir William had assisted in rising and disentangling from his horse.

"I am a denizen of the forest," replied Sir William. "As to my name, it matters not; but right glad am I to have been the means of rescuing you from the fangs of that monster."

"You have saved me from death, whoever you may be," said the hunter, "and your guerdon shall be equivalent to the service you have rendered me."

"May I be allowed to ask who you may be," continued Sir William, "who are hunting in the King's chase?"

"I am connected with the court of the King, who has come hither for the divertisement of hunting."

"The King, whom Heaven preserve, then is present in the chase?" inquired Sir William.

"He is," replied the hunter, "the remainder of the party will be here anon."

"How shall I know the King, for I shall wish to pay due respect to him?"

"Oh, he may be easily recognised, for he will remain covered, while all the rest momentarily remove their hats."

At this moment the rest of the hunting group came up, all of whom uncovered their heads.

"Now, do you recognise the king?" inquired the hunter.

"I do," he replied, dropping on his knee, "and crave pardon for the boldness of my language."

The King, for he it was, then told his followers how Sir William had saved his life, and that although he had declined giving his name, he would find that out, and would reward him suitably for so important a service.

"Please your Majesty," said one of the beaters, "I know who the gentleman is; he is Sir William Ingleby of Nidderdale."

"Sir William Ingleby?" said the King. "If I remember aright, you were one of those who, along with our kinsman, Lancaster, appeared in arms against our Royal authority."

"Not my Liege," replied Ingleby, "against your Royal authority, but against your evil advisers."

"Well," continued the King, with a slight scowl, "let bygones be bygones; you have done me a service which obliterates all that. You are from this moment restored to favour; in memory of what you have done this day, I decree that, for the future and all time, you and your family shall bear, as the crest of your arms, a boar's head. Let me see you shortly at my Court, and then I will see what further I can do out of gratitude for the service you have rendered me."

Sir William made a profound obeisance to the King, and from that time the fortunes of the Inglebys, from that circumstance, coupled with the fortunate marriage with the heiress of Ripley, continued to rise.

The Rev. Thomas Parkinson, in his "Lays and Leaves of the Forest" (1882), writes--"It is impossible to fix any date at which the various wild animals ceased to inhabit the forest. The wild cattle are not mentioned after the thirteenth century. Wolves were probably extinct in the fourteenth; indeed there are traditions of their existence three centuries later. Deer there were in 1654 A.D., for William Fleetwood, Sergeant of the Duchy of Lancaster, was plaintiff in a suit against Ellis Markham for destruction of some deer, game, and trees in Haverah or Heywra Park, at that date. The last wild boar is said to have been slain in the Boar-hole in Haverah Park, in the reign of Charles II. By the middle of the reign of Elizabeth, however, say 1580 A.D., probably all, except very rare specimens indeed, the larger wild animals were gone.... Nominally, the district remained a Royal forest up to the time of its enclosure, under Act of Parliament, in 1771 A.D., but long before that date it had practically ceased to be a refuge for wild beasts, or to be used for the chase. As we have seen, its larger animals were extinct, and, besides losing its chief fauna, it has been denuded, in a great measure, of its green woods and forest monarchs. This is said to have been brought about chiefly by the existence of smelting furnaces for lead and iron in the neighbourhood."

The Eland Tragedy.

In the reign of King Edward III., four gentlemen, the heads of four reputable county families, resided in their respective halls, within a short distance of each other, in the neighbourhood of Huddersfield. They were Sir John Eland, of Eland Hall; Sir Robert Beaumont, of Crosland Hall; Sir Hugh Quarmby, of Quarmby; and John Lockwood, of Lockwood. The family of Sir John Eland had been seated here for several generations, descended from Leisingus de Eland, from whom Lasingcroft derives its name. They were a knightly race, had inter-married with some of the best county families, and lived in a style of great splendour. Their lands were held as a fief under the Earls of Warren, and Sir John, who now represented the family, held the stewardship of the Earl's manors in Yorkshire, including that of Wakefield. He was also the shire-reeve, and, as such, the representative of the King, in the administration of justice and law within the county. Little further is known of him, and he would have scarcely been remembered, but for a deadly feud which arose between him and his above-mentioned neighbours, and a series of atrocious murders arising thereout. Even this might have been forgotten, as at that time deadly fights between families or communities frequently occurred, and excited but little notice, blood-for-blood vengeance being looked upon as a matter of course, and in the same light that duels were a century or two ago. The Livery Companies then frequently met in Cheapside to settle their quarrels with bows and clubs; and the famous fight of Chevy Chase was nothing more than the outcome of a dispute between two border Earls about hunting without permission across the border. So, with other frays of similar character, it might have passed into oblivion, but for a ballad which was written at the time, a modernised version of which appeared _temp._ Henry VIII., and which has come down to the present time--a copy of which was printed in Halifax in 1789, and another published in Whittaker's "Loidis et Elmete." The more modern version was entitled "Revenge upon Revenge: a narrative of the tragical practices of Sir John Eland, High Sheriff of Yorkshire, on Sir Robert Beaumont, in the reign of King Edward III." It gives the whole of the proceedings, with such circumstantial detail that, although some authorities have endeavoured to throw discredit upon the narrative, and expressed their belief that it is a fiction, it bears internal evidence of its truth. Sir John was a man of overbearing temper, impatient of opposition to his behests, and implacable in his hatred. The ballad opens with a long diatribe on pride and worldly ambition, and says--

"With such like faults was found infect
One, Sir John Eland, Knight;
His doings made it much suspect
Therein he took delight."

Whilst Sir Robert Beaumont, the main object of his hatred, is thus mentioned--

"Sometime there dwelt in Crosland Hall
A kind and courteous Knight;
It was well known that he withal
Sir Robert Beaumont hight.
Some say that Eland Sheriff was
By Beaumont disobey'd,
Which might him make for that trespass
With him the worst afraid."

The origin of the feud appears to have been in this wise--Earl de Warren had seduced Alice de Lacy, wife of Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, upon which a quarrel arose between the two Earls, and their retainers met and fought, when a nephew of Sir John was slain by one Exley. Exley made over to Sir John a plot of land as compensation for the mischance, which he accepted, but still sought to be avenged by the death of the homicide. Exley fled to the house of his relative, Sir Robert Beaumont, for shelter, and Sir John demanded his surrender, which was refused by Sir Robert, and in this he was countenanced by his friends Quarmby and Lockwood, on the ground that Sir John, having accepted the plot of land, had condoned the offence, which gave great affront to Sir John, who went off muttering threats of vengeance.

Sir John was doubtlessly perfectly right, in his capacity of Sheriff, to demand the delivery up of an offender against the laws of the realm, but he was equally in the wrong in having accepted a bribe to compromise the offence; but his irritation arose from the fact of Sir Robert having set his authority at defiance--an insult which his proud spirit could not brook. He brooded over the matter at home for some days, and at length came to the resolution of erasing the stain upon his dignity by the death of Sir Robert, which he determined to accomplish with his own hands. He considered, further, that as Quarmby and Lockwood had backed Sir Robert in his defiance of him as Sheriff, they would be likely to avenge his death, so, to make assurance doubly sure, he felt it to be necessary to deal out the same fate to them. Accordingly, a few days after--

"He raised the country round about,
His friends and tenants all,
And for his purpose picked out
Stout, sturdy men, and tall.
To Quarmby Hall they came by night,
And there the lord they slew,
At that time Hugh of Quarmby hight,
Before the country knew.
To Lockwood then, the selfsame night,
They came, and there they slew
Lockwood of Lockwood, that wiley wight.
That stirred the strife anew."

"A gentleman of that wisdom and prudence that he was not only reckoned, but esteemed, as the oracle, as well as the darling, of his country, and whose memory will remain fragrant in future ages."

Having completed these preliminary murders, Sir John proceeded with his men to execute his _coup de grace_. Crosland Hall was surrounded by a deep moat--

"The hall was watered well about,
No wight might enter in,
Till that the bridge was well made out
They durst not enter in."

As the bridge was raised, they lay in ambush till early in the morning, when it was lowered to allow a maid-servant to pass forth, upon which they rushed across and entered the house in a noisy, boisterous manner. Sir Robert came from his chamber, half-dressed, to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, when he was attacked by the invaders of his premises. He seized a sword and stood on his defence--

"And thus it was, most certainly,
That slain before he was
He fought again them manfully,
Undressed though he was.
His lady cried and shrieked withal
When as from her they led
Her dearest knight into the hall,
And there cut off his head."

A MS. says that Exley and a brother of Sir Robert were killed at the same time.

Sir John then ordered wine and victuals to be laid out for their breakfast, and invited the two sons of Sir Robert to sit down and join him in the repast; the younger, through fear, assented, but Adam, the elder, refused, with a scowling brow, to eat with the murderer of his father, upon seeing which, Sir John said, "How heinously that lad doth take his father's death; and looks with a frowning countenance as if he would take revenge; but I will keep such a watchful, circumspect eye over him that he shall never be able to do us any harm." Having thus accomplished his purpose, and finished his meal beside the corpse of his victim lying on the floor, he departed with his band of assassins, nor does it appear that he was ever called to account for the outrage. After the burial of her husband, Lady Beaumont, fearing for the safety of her children, fled with them to the house of her kinsman, Townley, in Lancashire, and took along with her the sons of Quarmby and Lockwood, and a youth named Lacy, of Crumblebottom, where they were instructed together in feats of chivalry, fencing, tilting, shooting with the long bow, riding, and other knightly qualities, as preparations for taking their revenge.

The curtain had fallen upon the first act of the drama; fifteen years had now elapsed, and the second act commences. The four youths had now grown up nearly to manhood, and Lockwood, the eldest, suggested that the time was now come when "we should bravely seek to revenge the spilling of our fathers' blood, for if Eland should have that foul act for well done, it will encourage him in his wickedness, and further to proceed in destroying the whole posterity of our renowned ancestors; therefore do I esteem it our wisdom, and an undertaking well becoming the successors of such worthy patriots, utterly to extirpate from the face of the earth the cursed Cain and his posterity." The others assented, and took into their counsel two men--Dawson and Haigh--retainers of one of the families--who had come from Yorkshire, and who informed them that Sir John would shortly go to Brighouse, where the Sheriffdom was to be held, and that they might easily waylay him and accomplish their purpose. Accordingly they set off, accompanied by an armed band of men, and secreted themselves in Crumblebottom Wood, on the wayside from Eland to Brighouse.

Sir John, suspecting nothing, went on his way to Brighouse, and coming upon some armed men on the roadside whom he knew not, courteously "vail'd his bonnet," when Adam Beaumont stepped forward and said--

"Thy courtesy 'vails thee not, Sir Knight,
Thou slew my father dear,
Sometime Sir Robert Beaumont hight;
And slain thou shalt be here."

The others addressed him in like terms. "Whose fathers' blood," said they all, "we are now come to revenge upon thee and thine." They then attacked him, his followers drawing their weapons and rallying round him in his defence, and a general fight commenced between the two companies, several on both sides being wounded. At length the four young men, who kept together, succeeded in separating Sir John from his followers, and inflicting upon him numerous wounds, left him lying bleeding and dying upon the turf. Knowing that such a crime as the murder of the King's Sheriff could not pass unnoticed, as soon as they felt assured that they had accomplished their revenge they hastened back into Lancashire, but feeling that they would not be safe at Townley Hall, they went onward into Furness, then a wild unfrequented corner of the county, with few inhabitants excepting the monks of the abbey and a few peasants who were dependent upon it, and hid themselves in the recesses of the woods, among the caves and fells, depending upon their bows for the supply of their daily food. And thus ends the second act of the drama.

In the meanwhile, Sir John's son, a second Sir John, succeeded to Eland, who was married and had a son, then a young boy, who might also have succeeded but for the machinations of the allies in Furness. During the winter they had been laying their plots, and came to the determination of utterly extirpating the male line of the Elands, and arranged to attack Sir John on his way to or from church on Palm Sunday. Accordingly, in the spring, they came secretly to Crumblebottom Hall, where they lay _perdu_ to watch events, and, on the eve of Palm Sunday, concealed themselves in Eland Mill. Their proceedings, however, were not so secret but that rumours of impending evil reached the ears of Sir John, and on Sunday morning he told his wife that he should not go out that day, but she rallied him on his fears, and urged that he must go to church on that specially holy day as an example to others, upon which he reluctantly assented, but took the precaution of putting on a coat of mail beneath his waistcoat.

The confederates and their followers saw the sun rise on the morning of Palm Sunday as they lay in the mill, and began to prepare for their meditated deed, when the door was suddenly opened, and the miller's wife entered for some corn which her husband had sent her for. They immediately seized her, bound her hand and foot, and told her that if she cried out they would knock her on the head. Not returning in due course, her husband grew wroth at her dalliance.

"The miller swore she should repent,
She tarried there so long;
A good cudgel in hand he went,
To chastise her with wrong."

But the miller, instead of amusing himself by thrashing his wife, met with the same fate that she had undergone, and was thrown, securely bound, on a heap of flour-sacks beside her.

Sir John, his wife, and little son, left Eland Hall for church, taking a short cut over the stones of the mill-dam which was nearly empty in consequence of a drought. As he was stepping over Beaumont shot an arrow at him which glanced off his coat of mail, as did Lockwood with a like effect. The villagers, who were going to church, seeing this, came running up, when Lockwood shot another arrow, which pierced Sir John's brain, whilst another from Quarmby, mortally wounded the boy.

They had now accomplished their vengeance; the male line of the Elands was extinct; but it behoved them to look to their own safety, as the villagers, armed with clubs and hatchets, were assembling in great force. They rushed out of the mill, fought their way along Whittlelane End to Old Earthgate, and hence to Anely Wood, hotly pursued by their foes. Willet, Smith, Remington, and Bunney, yeomanry officers, also summoned their men, who armed themselves with "pitchforks, long staves, knotted clubs, and rusty bills," and joined the hunt. As their foes neared them, they faced round and presented a bold, resolute front, as long as their arrows lasted, when they again took to flight; Lockwood carrying off Quarmby, who had fallen wounded. They gained the shelter of the wood, where they left Quarmby, dead, and each sought to shift for himself. Beaumont took refuge in Crosland Hall, and stood on his defence with the bridge drawn up; he afterwards escaped to France, fought against the Turks in Hungary, where he won great fame and honour, and eventually became a Knight of Rhodes. Lockwood sought shelter in Camel Hall, but was captured when incautiously visiting a village maiden with whom he had an amour, and was put to death there and then, and so ended the race of the Lockwoods. What became of Lacy is not known. Sir John Eland, the younger, left a daughter and heiress, who married Sir John Savile, of Tankersley, and conveyed the Eland and other estates to that family.

The Plumpton Marriage.

The Plumpton family, of Plumpton, near Knaresborough, were established there from the period of the Domesday Book, when Edred de Plumpton held two carucates of land of William de Percy, the mesne lord. They had estates afterwards at other places--Idle, near Leeds, held of the Lacies; Steeton, near Tadcaster; Nesfield, near Otley, where they had a manor-house, and elsewhere. They were a family of considerable importance in Yorkshire, and were great benefactors to the Nunnery of Esholt, in Craven. They frequently make a conspicuous appearance in the various historical events of the centuries of their existence. Peter, son of Nigel, suffered confiscation of his lands for confederating with the Barons against King John; but, on submitting and doing fealty to Henry III., they were restored. Sir Robert, founder of a chapel in the church in Knaresborough, was beheaded at York, for participation in Scrope's rebellion against King Henry IV., in 1408. Sir William, who objected to the levying of tolls, at Otley and Ripley, by Archbishop Kemp, lay in wait for the tax-gatherers at Thornton Bridge, with a company of foresters. The officials, apprehending the meaning of the armed men by the bridge, turned aside to pass over the river by Brafferton Ford, but were followed by Sir William and his men, shouting, "Slay the Archbishop's carles, and would to God we had the Archbishop himself here." In the fray which ensued, several of the Archbishop's men were slain and wounded, and others taken prisoners. Robert, the last male representative of the family, died unmarried and intestate at Paris, in 1749, when the estates passed to his aunt, Anne, who, in 1760, sold them to Daniel Lascelles, for £28,000.

A volume entitled "The Plumpton Correspondence," consisting of family letters, chiefly of a domestic character, written in the reigns of Edward IV., Richard III., Henry VII., and Henry VIII., was published in 1869 by the Camden Society; edited by Thomas Stapleton, from Sir Edward Plumpton's "Book of Letters."

In the reign of Henry II., Gilbert de Plumpton, a youthful scion of the family, was living at Plumpton. As the Plumptons were then comparatively small land-owners, and as they had high aspirations, aiming at the knightly or baronial degree, it behoved them to improve their landed estates by prudent marriages with heiresses, and thus qualify themselves for a higher position in the county. Young Gilbert, then approaching manhood, therefore cast his eyes about him with that purpose. His range of vision was rather restricted, as people in those days, owing to the badness of the roads and other causes, rarely travelled far away from home, and were almost compelled to select their wives and husbands from amongst their neighbours, seldom going beyond the bounds of their native counties to enter into matrimonial alliances. Besides this, eligible heiresses were but few in number, and being under the guardianship of the King, or of some one appointed by him, whose consent was necessary for marriage, it being a serious offence to marry an heiress without such pre-consent, it became a difficult matter, even when an heiress was found and her affections secured, to consummate their reciprocal love by a conjugal union; especially as Kings were then wont to use their power over their fair wards in a very arbitrary and tyrannical fashion, by bestowing their hands and inheritances on their favourites, or in reward for some service, without the least consideration for the pleasure or will of the person most concerned--the lady herself.

About this time Roger de Guilevast, or, as he is sometimes called, Richard Wardwast, a wealthy land-owner, in the neighbourhood of Plumpton, died, and left his only daughter, Eleanor, heiress to his extensive possessions. This young lady, Gilbert had encountered when out with his hounds one day, some twelve months previously. He had been searching for game in the woodlands of the picturesque scenery which surrounds Plumpton, and had come to the lake, when he was startled by the sight of an exquisitely beautiful young girl wandering along the shore, and seemingly enjoying the beautiful prospect of land, water, and foliaged trees. He accosted her, and she readily entered into conversation with him, when he was as much struck by her wit and sensible remarks as he had previously been by her beauty. She informed him who she was, and who her father, and he imparted to her the same information respecting himself, and they discovered that, although they had never chanced to meet previously, they were well acquainted with each other's families. Gilbert therefore knew that if her father died without other issue his estates would descend to her as his heiress. Here he thought was the chance he had been hoping for; but as he was of a cautious, calculating disposition, he considered that her father, not yet aged, might still have a son, to whom the lands would pass, and leave her with nothing more than a slender marriage portion; and although he saw that she was beautiful and accomplished, and was just the wife whom he would choose if personal charms were the chief consideration, he could not, in justice to his family and his own aspirations, marry a dowerless maiden, and he resolved not to commit himself too far until he saw more as to the chance of her succession to the estates. Still he determined not to lose sight of her altogether, and that it would be well in the meantime to inspire her heart with the sentiment of love towards him, if it were possible to do so.

"Do you often walk in this direction?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she replied, "in the beautiful summer sunshine, when the trees are clad in their bright vestments of green, and the flowers are opening their petals and giving forth perfume from every bank; when the birds are singing joyfully overhead, and the hum of the bees and other insects add a pleasing undertone to their louder carolling--I love to wander alone with Nature for my companion. And you! Do you care to commune with Nature? or only feel a pleasure in going forth in the forest lands and pastures, to destroy the innocent and beautiful creatures who enjoy their existence as much as you do yourself?" And so saying, she pointed interrogatively at his dogs, which were barking and sniffing about among the bushes.

"Oh!" answered he, "believe not that my sole delight is in the chase. Nature has sent certain animals into the world to supply us with food, and it is right to deprive them of life before placing them on the table; nor do I think it wrong to destroy noxious animals, such as wolves and foxes, and it is only on such that I wage war; nothing do I kill out of wanton sport. I experience pleasure in the sight of the rising and the setting sun, I can look with delight on the glories of a landscape, such as that which is spread around us, and witness with a thrill of sublime awe the warring of the elements in a tempest."

Thus they conversed for some time, mutually interested in each other's conversation, and before parting arranged to meet at set times near the huge rock which rises out of the water and stretches for a length of fifty feet, and which still attracts thousands of tourists to wonder at and admire it.

Many times did they meet there, and their love ripened at each interview, Gilbert almost forgetting the demands of his family for heiresses, and almost resolving to seek her hand, even in case of a brother coming to claim the inheritance; but some six months afterwards, Eleanor's father "went the way of all flesh," and she became really an heiress, when Gilbert commenced making love to her in real earnest, his own private inclinations coinciding now with what was due to his consideration of the interests of his family.

At this time Ranulph de Glanville was resident in Yorkshire, as Lord of Coverdale, having acquired the estates there by his marriage with Bertha, daughter of Theobald de Valvins, Lord of Parham. He was the greatest legal luminary of his age, and eminent, besides, as a statesman and warrior; was Judge-itinerant in Yorkshire and thirteen other counties, and in 1186 was promoted to the dignity of Chief-Justice of England; he was also Sheriff of Yorkshire and some other counties, and was employed extensively in State affairs. When King Henry II. was in France, King William of Scotland invaded Northumberland, in 1174, and Glanville, as Sheriff of Yorkshire, raised an army of Yorkshiremen, marched against him, defeated him in a battle, and took him prisoner, lodging him in Richmond Castle. News of the victory reached the King after his memorable penance at the tomb of Thomas a Becket, and, instead of attributing it to the skill of Glanville and the bravery of his followers, ascribed it to St. Thomas, as a reward for his penitential humiliation at his shrine. In his latter days he founded an abbey and a priory in his native county of Suffolk; in 1189 he accompanied King Richard in his crusade to Palestine, and is said to have been slain at the siege of Acre.

As Sheriff of the county of York, he was the representative of the King, and, of course, in the matter of the guardianship of heiresses and the disposal of their hands and inheritances. When intelligence reached him of the death of Roger de Guilevast without issue male, it occurred to him that it would be a good opportunity for rewarding one, Reiner, a favourite dependant of his, whom he wished to advance in life. Reiner is mentioned in the Plump. Cartul., 1002, as Sheriff of Yorkshire, but as Glanville himself was then Sheriff, he would probably be Deputy-Sheriff. He therefore proposed to bestow the heiress and her estates upon Reiner, and gave instructions to that effect.

The lovers, for plighted lovers they had become when Eleanor received an intimation that she was to give her hand to Reiner, resolved upon a bold step, no less than that of defying the King and his Sheriff by a clandestine marriage. Gilbert was on terms of great intimacy with the Spofforths of Spofforth, a township adjoining that of Plumpton, an ancient Saxon family, one of whom, Thomas, early in the fifteenth century, became Abbot of St. Mary's, York, and, in 1422, was elected Bishop of Rochester, but, before installation, was constituted Bishop of Hereford by Papal provision. One of the family was a priest and the close friend of Gilbert, and he undertook to risk the performance of the ceremony, which was carried out in private, and Gilbert took his bride home, and for a week or more enjoyed the usual connubial felicity of the honeymoon period.

A loud knocking at the gates of the Plumpton Manor House one morning startled the inmates and aroused the fears of the newly married couple, who were apprehensive of the vengeance of the Sheriff. At first they thought of flight; but where to go? Nowhere in the realm would they be safe against the power of the King, so they were compelled perforce to abide the issue. When the gates were opened, a body of men in the livery of the Sheriff presented themselves, the leader of whom said, "In the name of the King, and by the authority of his Sheriff, Ranulph de Glanville, I demand to be delivered up to me the bodies of Gilbert de Plumpton and of Eleanor de Guilevast, a ward of the Crown, who has been treacherously carried off from her home by the said Gilbert, in violation of the laws of the realm, and in traitorous contempt of the King's authority."

At this juncture Gilbert presented himself with his wife leaning on his arm, and demanded what they meant by such intrusion and insolent language, adding that he was no traitor and no contemner of the laws of the kingdom, but one of the King's most faithful subjects.

"We come not," was the reply, "to bandy words with you, or decide the question at issue; our instructions are to convey you to York, where the Sheriff will determine what further shall be done in the matter, and who will listen to any objections you may be pleased to urge in respect of your apprehension as a violator of the law."

Seeing that there was no use in resisting, Gilbert said, "Then I will accompany you to York," and gave directions for his horse to be saddled. "But," he continued, "I trust it is not necessary to submit this lady, my wife, to the indignity; I suppose she may remain here until I have vindicated my innocence, and can return to her."

"That cannot be," replied the leader, "my instructions are to bring you and the lady, and loth as I am to appear discourteous to a lady, I must insist on her accompanying us."

"I am ready to go," said Eleanor; "rather would I go to face any perils, in your company, than be left behind with all the anxieties and uncertainties as to what is befalling you."