Legends Of Longdendale Part 16

"I see what ye in your pride deem impossible. Ye have just now drunk to the King. Ye have inscribed on the window-pane of this dwelling a prayer for his triumph. And a bonny sentiment it is that ye have written, ye b.l.o.o.d.y murderers of Englishmen. Upholders of a tyrant, think ye that the powers of the other world will ever smile upon your cause? Not so. Your cause is accursed. Never shall the words of the writing come to pa.s.s. King Charles shall perish. So shall ye, his myrmidons. Lo! I see a field of battle. Rupert is there and the army of King Charles--a glorious array without the walls of York. But there cometh Cromwell, the man of iron, his hors.e.m.e.n charge once twice, thrice, and lo! the army of the King is scattered, and the earth is red with blood. I see faces, cold and dead, turned upwards towards the sky. The faces of men slain in the battle. And behold, some of the faces are your faces, For such is your doom. And in the end your King shall perish, and old England shall be free."

The frame of the old beldame shook as she delivered herself of this tirade, and when she had ended she moved feebly to the door. The company remained still, too awestruck to stay her, and presently she had disappeared. The soldiers soon recovered their spirits, and joked gaily over the occurrence.

But it was destined that the words should come true.

With the first streak of dawn, Captain Oldfield led his men on their long march to the city of York. There on the second day of July, they fought in the Battle of Marston Moor, and, even as the woman had prophesied, most of the band perished in the battle, and Cromwell beat back the King's army, and England was one step nearer being free.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

Ralph Bernard Robinson refers to the above legend in the following pa.s.sage in his little book on Longdendale.

"Opposite, on the other side of the river, is Melandra Castle as the the villagers call it. Some fields here are called in old deeds 'THE CASTLE CARRS.' Hard by is an ancient homestead going to ruin called 'THE CARR HOUSE.' This old house has an historical celebrity. A party of Royalists, on their march to Yorks.h.i.+re before the Battle of Marston Moor, stayed here one night. The name of the Captain, John Oldfield, of Spalding, that of King Charles, and the date (1644), long remained inscribed in Latin, with a diamond ring, on a window-pane of the old dwelling."

In some way or other, the pane of gla.s.s referred to by Robinson became the property of the late A. K. Sidebottom, Esq., J.P., and after his death was purchased at a public auction by my friend, Mr. Robert Hamnett, of Glossop. To the kindness of the last-named gentleman, I am indebted for the loan of the gla.s.s, and for various particulars concerning it. When it came into Mr. Hamnett's possession, it was in two pieces, which, however, have now been cemented together. The pane is the ordinary size of small diamond panes frequently found in cottages of old date, and still largely used in the windows of our churches. The inscription is quite clear, but the gla.s.s is badly scratched, as though some st.u.r.dy member of the Cromwell faction had done his best to obliterate the Royalist writing without going to the expense of breaking the window.

The inscription is as follows:--

Vivat et vincat Rex Carolus, Sic orat Johnes Oldfield de Spalding 1644.

Mr. Hamnett has been at considerable pains to trace the career and family of the above John Oldfield. I am indebted to him for the following particulars. The pa.s.sage given here is taken from an ancient MSS. belonging to the family, and has been supplied by the Wingfields, who are direct descendants of Captain Oldfield.

"We now come to John--the Captain Oldfield of the Longdendale legend--the eldest son of the first Anthony, who, as we have sayd, succeeded to his estate November, 1635. This gentleman was a most zealous Royalist, and as the other party prevailed (he being left wealthy by his father, notwithstanding his providing so well for his other children), was at several times plundered by the parliamentarians, and sequestred as a Delinqt., and at the Siege of Newark, where he served the Royal cause gallantly as a gentleman volunteer, was shot through the body, but recovered of his wounds. He married Alice, the daughter of ---- Blythe, of Shawson, in the County of Lincoln. He added to, and very much improved the seat built here by his father, building the rooms and grand staircase in the north wing of that house, and planting many forest trees and much wood about it.

This John was interred in the chancel of the Parish Church of our Lady and St. Nicholas, in Spalding, as was Alice, his wife, by whom he had three sons and as many daughters, viz., Anthony, his eldest, who succeeded him to his estate and was afterwards created a Baronet by King Charles II.... We now come to Anthony, eldest son of John, who, as we have said, succeeded to his father's estate, 1660. He married first Mary, the daughter of ---- Parker, Esq., by whom he had no issue; secondly, Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Edmond Gresham.... This gentleman was much esteemed and had a great intimacy with people of the greatest worth and quality in his neighbourhood, and particularly with Sir Robert Carr, Bart., Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, and one of His Majesty's Most Honble. Privy Council, and upon the recommendation of the Rt. Hon the Countess of Dorset, he was, by His Majesty King Charles II., by letters patent, bearing date the 6th day of August, 1660, advanced to the degree and dignity of a Baronet of England, by the t.i.tle of Sir Anthony Oldfield, of Spalding, in the County of Lincoln, Bart.--he lies in the chancel under a very large grey marble, upon which is this inscription:--

"Here was interred the body of Sir Anthony Oldfield, of this town, Bart., who departed this life the fourth day of September, Anno Salutis--1668; Aetatis--42."

Sir John Oldfield, son of Sir Anthony, married in 1668, but at his death in 1704, left only three daughters surviving. The baronetcy accordingly became extinct. Elizabeth, the third daughter and co-heir of the last Sir John, married John Wingfield, of Tickencote, High Sheriff of Rutland (1702). From this union spring the present family of Wingfield, which includes among its members Sir Edward Wingfield, K.C.B., and Captain John Maurice Wingfield, of the Coldstream Guards.

XIX.

A Legend of the Civil War.

In the year 1644 the town of Stockport became the scene of some exciting incidents in the great struggle then waging between the King and his Parliament. From ancient days, Stockport had been accounted a place of military importance, commanding, as it did, the pa.s.sage of the river Mersey. When the Romans took possession of the county, they established a strong fortified camp upon a site near the modern market place. The Norman lords of Stockport reared a castle upon the same site, and from that period downwards, the strategic value of the place continued to increase. When the Civil War broke out, the importance of obtaining and maintaining possession of the town, was soon recognised by both factions, and throughout the grim and prolonged contest.

Stockport was held first by one party, then by the other, as the respective fortunes of the Cavaliers and Roundheads ebbed and flowed.

The majority of the princ.i.p.al landowners and gentry--that is to say, the most powerful of the representatives of the old county families--in the vicinity of Stockport, were much inclined to Puritanism, and so the cause of Parliament received strong support in this part of the country. The Bradshawes of Marple Hall were vigorous supporters of the Roundheads--Colonel Henry Bradshawe was a distinguished Parliamentary soldier; and his brother, John Bradshawe, afterwards became President of the Council of State, acted as the Judge at the trial of King Charles, and pa.s.sed the death sentence upon that unhappy monarch. The Ardernes of Arden Hall, the Dukinfields of Dukinfield, the Hydes of Hyde, and the Hydes of Denton were all resolute supporters of the Parliament; and inasmuch as all these families had property and influence in the town and parish of Stockport, it is scarcely a matter for surprise to find that in the year in which our story opens Stockport was held by a Parliamentary force under command of that staunch soldier, Colonel Dukinfield, of Dukinfield.

Colonel Dukinfield is a man who deserves a few words of description.

He was one of the most distinguished of the group of famous historical characters who sprang from this part of East Ches.h.i.+re, and helped to mould the destinies of the nation in the 17th century. A man of Puritan ancestry, himself a great Puritan, with Republican tendencies, endowed, moreover, with many of the gifts of a great soldier, he took part at an early age in the opening stages of the great war. His exploits in the field, and his influence and ability to raise and keep together strong bodies of horse and foot, soon won for him a high place in the ranks of the Parliamentary party; and right worthily did he acquit himself, whether in the field at the head of his troops, or in the Council Chamber, where all the qualities of a statesman were called into play. Historians are unanimous as to the disinterestedness of his character, and the purity of his motives; indeed, it is generally recognised that he was one of the truest men of either party that the Civil War produced.

In the year mentioned, he was sent to guard Stockport, and the bridge over the Mersey--one of the entrances from Ches.h.i.+re into Lancas.h.i.+re--and this task he performed, until military necessity compelled him to evacuate the town, and retire before a superior force of the enemy.

A strong army of Loyalists, being sent to invade Lancas.h.i.+re, must needs take possession of Stockport on their way; they were led by that das.h.i.+ng dare-devil nephew of the King--Prince Rupert of the Rhine.

Recognising that the enemy was too strong for him, and deeming it imprudent to risk the lives of his soldiers in a hopeless resistance, Colonel Dukinfield withdrew his force, and vanished from Rupert's sight. He of the Rhine sent his men through the rich farm lands about Stockport, and they plundered the suffering yeomen--confiscating whatever they required for the service of the King. The Roundheads, on their part, had done the same, so no one could grumble very much about the matter. As the sufferers said, "One side was every bit as bad as the other."

But not a glimpse of the Roundhead soldiers did the gay Cavaliers get, and Rupert of the Rhine, hot-headed as he was, had yet more sense in his pate than to be led astray from his direct line of march to begin a risky, fruitless, and possibly disastrous chase of the Parliamentarians. For he knew that Dukinfield, who, being a native, was acquainted with every yard of the country, had taken refuge in the wild and mountainous region of Longdendale, where it was easy enough for the Roundheads to ambush the Cavaliers, and where there was little chance for practising that das.h.i.+ng form of warfare--the grand charge of large ma.s.ses of cavalry upon equally compact ma.s.ses of the enemy--which was Rupert's favourite method, and which--until Cromwell and his Ironsides came upon the scene--was invariably successful.

So after a time Rupert pa.s.sed on his march.

Our story, however, has to do with the troops of the Parliament, and their sojourn in Longdendale. When he left Stockport, Colonel Dukinfield led his men directly to the wild country beyond Mottram; and on the lands adjoining the old halls of Mottram, Thorncliffe, and Hollingworth, and about the homes of the wealthier inhabitants, he quartered his force. He does not seem to have met with much resistance in this matter; and it is most likely that the Longdendale landowners were themselves inclined to favour the Parliamentary cause.

Be that as it may, they found food for horse and men, and supplied Dukinfield with money, cattle, and soldiers, when the time came for him to march. There are some interesting doc.u.ments still preserved, which give the details of the various expenses to which the Longdendale gentry were put by the prolonged stay of the Roundhead forces on their lands.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DUKINFIELD HALL.]

As was to be expected, the arrival of so renowned a fighter as Colonel Dukinfield, and his bold band of Roundheads, caused more than a flutter of excitement in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of the country folk of Longdendale. Those inclined to the Roundhead faction, were rather proud to stand by and wave their caps and cheer at the brave men who had so resolutely fought against the tyrant King; while the Royalist inhabitants surveyed the soldiers and their Puritan colonel, with feelings akin to hatred seeing in them nothing but a set of rebels who were too vile to live.

Of the last-named cla.s.s was a stout yeoman whom for the purpose of this story we will name Timothy Cooke. A thorough King's man at heart, he had no sympathy with any who set themselves up to fight against the "lords anointed," and as he saw the Roundheads ride past he would, had he dared, and had the opportunity presented itself, have put a bullet into the body of each rider.

"A d.a.m.nable set of psalm-singing rascals," muttered Tim to a companion, as the Parliamentary troops went by. "May the food and fodder they get in Longdendale, choke both man and beast. They are of the devil's sp.a.w.n, every one, enemies to G.o.d as well as to the King."

"Steady, Tim," whispered his companion. "They will overhear thee, and then, belike, thou wilt get into serious trouble."

"Trouble!" quoth Tim. "I care mighty little for anything they can do.

The King's forces will wipe them out ere long; and had I been but half the man I was in my young days, I would have ridden behind the Cavaliers, and struck a blow for His Majesty."

Then, grumbling at the perversity of the times, which permitted such unseemly sights as that presented by a band of Republican soldiers marching coolly through Longdendale, he jogged off homeward, to weary his wife with his ill-humour.

But the goodman had more to put up with ere long, for after a few days were pa.s.sed, there came riding into his farmyard, the stalwart figure of a Roundhead. The soldier was a young man, of gentlemanly appearance, and strikingly handsome. He wore his hair cropped close, and his face was clean shaven. He sat his horse firmly, and his well-proportioned figure gave signs of strength.

"Farmer," cried he; "I give you a good day. You have a grey mare, I understand, of some little fame hereabouts. My officers require the use of her for the service of the Parliament. And I am come to take her forthwith. Also a sheep from your fold would not come amiss, but that you may send to the headquarters by one of your farm hands."

He spoke with the free air of one who expected that his requests, or orders, would be observed as a matter of course.

Timothy stood stock still for a few moments, lost in wonder. Then his hot temper blazed forth in a volume of words.

"Why you knave--you close-cropped murdering rebel--you speak and carry yourself with the bearing of an honest King's man. Get out of my yard this instant, or I'll brain you on the spot. No horse or sheep of mine goes from here to the service of the King's enemies."

He flourished a large hay-fork dangerously near the horseman, and the steed began to back with alarm.

"Drop that fork," cried the soldier, drawing his pistols, "I've no mind that there shall be any accident, but if you will advance, and if one of these weapons goes off, 'tis no fault of mine."

But the old farmer's blood was up.

"I'll spit you as I would a goose," cried he; "and all other such Republican knaves."

The soldier pulled his horse aside, and levelled his pistol at the farmer's head.

"Thou mad fool," he cried. "If thou wilt rush to thy death, 'tis no concern of mine."

And sighting the weapon, he made ready to fire.

But at that moment came a diversion, and from an unexpected quarter; for in the doorway of the farm, directly behind the irate yeoman, there appeared the figure of a maid. She was the farmer's daughter, and a maid of uncommon beauty; and the sight of so fair a daughter of Eve, bursting thus suddenly on the soldier's vision, banished for one brief second the murderous purpose from his mind. He hesitated, let his eyes wander from the farmer to rest upon the figure of the girl.