Traditions of Lancashire Volume I Part 69

This extraordinary commission had the sanction of Parliament; and two out of the three adepts were the heads of Lancas.h.i.+re families--viz., Sir Thomas Ashton of Ashton, and Sir Edmund Trafford of Trafford. These worthy knights obtained a patent for changing metals, 24 Hen. VI. The philosophers, probably imposing upon themselves as well as others, kept the king's expectation wound up to the highest pitch; and in the following year he actually informed his people that the happy hour was approaching when, by means of the _stone_, he should _be able to pay off his debts_[55]

With regard to the prophecy or denunciation made by him against the Talbots, recorded in our legend, Dr Whitaker observes,--"Something like these hereditary alternations of sense and folly might have happened, and have given rise to a prophecy fabricated after the event; a real prediction to this effect would have negatived the words of Solomon,--'Yea, I have hated all my labour which I had taken under the sun; because I should leave it unto the man that shall be after me; and who knoweth whether he shall be a wise man or a fool?'

"This, however, is not the only instance in which Henry is reported to have displayed that singular faculty, the _Vaticinium Stultorum_."[56]

In 798, this place was noted for the defeat of Wada, the Saxon chief, by Aldred, king of Northumberland. He was one of the petty princes who joined the murderers of King Ethelred. After this overthrow he fled to his castle, on a hill near Whitby, and dying, was interred not far from the place. Two great pillars, about twelve feet asunder, mark the spot, and still bear the name of "Wada's Grave."

It was on a bright and glorious summer evening, in the year 1464, while the red glare of sunset was still in the west, and a wide blush of purple pa.s.sed rapidly over the distant fell and the blue and heath-clad mountain, that a group of labourers were returning from their daily toil through the forest glades that skirt the broad and beautiful Ribble below Waddow. Some of them were of that cla.s.s called hinds, paying the rents of their little homesteads by stated periods of service allotted to each; in this respect differing but little from the serfs and villains of a more remote era, their toil not a whit less irksome, though their liberty, in name at least, was less under the control and caprice of their lord.

Two of the peasants loitered considerably behind the rest, seemingly engrossed by a conversation too interesting or too important for the ears of their companions. The elder of the speakers was clad in a coa.r.s.e woollen doublet; a belt of untanned leather girt his form; and on his head was a cap of grey felt, without either rim or band. His gait was heavy and slouching. Strong, tall, and muscular, he stooped considerably; but less through age and infirmity than from the laborious nature of his occupations. His companion, younger and more vivacious, was distinguished by a goodly and well-thriven hump, and by that fulness and projection of the chest which usually characterise this species of deformity. His long arms nearly trailed to the ground as he walked; huge and sprawling, they seemed to have been originally intended as an attachment to a frame of much more gigantic proportions. His face had that peculiar form and expression which always, more or less, accompany this kind of malformation. Wide, large, angular; the chin sharp and projecting, supported on the breast; the whole head scarcely rivalling the shoulders in height and obliquity. His disposition was evidently wayward and irascible, and a keen satirical humour lurked in every line of his pallid visage; generally at war with his species, and ready to act on the defensive; snarling whenever he was approached, and always antic.i.p.ating gibe and insult from his fellows.

"Weary, weary,--ay, as a tom-fool at a holiday feast," said the hunchback to his companion. "Spade and axe have I lifted these twenty years, and what the better am I o' the labour? A groat's worth of wit is worth a pound o' sweat,' as my dame says. I'll turn pedlar some o' these days, and lie, and cheat, and sell."

"Ay, Gregory," interrupted the other, "thee'd sell thy own paws, if so be they'd fetch a groat i' the market; but then, I warrant, the dame at the hall would lack her henchman at the churn."

"Tut! I care for nought living but my worthless carcase," replied the hunchback, surveying his own person. "Why should I? there's nought living that cares for me. Sure as fate, if a' waur dead beside, we'd ha'

curran' baws i' the pot every day. What a murrain is it to this hungry maw whether Ned Talbot, or Joe Tempest, or any other knave o' the pack, tumbles into his berth, or is put to bed wi' the shovel, a day sooner or later. He maun budge some time. Faugh! how I hate your whining--your cat-a-whisker'd faces, purring and mewling, while parson Pudsay says grace over the cold carrion; he cares not if it waur hash'd and stew'd i' purgatory, so that he gets the shrift-money. Out upon't, Ralph, out upon it! this mattock should delve a' the graves i' the parish, if I could get a tester more i' my fist."

"Thou murdering tyke! wouldst dig my grave?"

"Ay," shouted Gregory with a grin, displaying a huge double crescent of white teeth, portals to a gulf, grim, hideous, and insatiable; "ay, for St Peter's penny."

"And leave me to knock at the gate, and never a doit to pay the porter?"

"Thou shouldst cry and howl till doomsday, though my pouch had the keeping of a whole congregation of angels.

"Keep out o' my way, cub--unlicked brute!" cried the infuriate Ralph; "keep back, I say, or I may send thee first on thine errand to St Peter.

Take that, knave, and"--

But the malicious hunchback stepped aside, and the blow, aimed with a hearty curse at this provoking lump of deformity, fell with a murderous force upon a writhen stem, which bore witness to the willing disposition with which the stroke was dealt. Gregory was laughing and mocking all the while at the impotent wrath of his companion.

"A groat's worth for a penny, I'm not yet boun' for St Peter's blessing, though, old crump-face!" cried the learing impertinent, one thumb between his teeth, and the little finger thrust out in its most expressive form of derision and contempt.

"Hush--softly, prithee," said the offended party, his anger all at once under the influence of a more powerful feeling. He stood still, in the att.i.tude of listening, earnestly bending forward with great solicitude and attention.

He pointed to some object just visible through the arches of the wood, in the dim twilight.

"There is the grey man o' the mine again, as I live, Gregory; we'd best turn back, for our companions are gone out of hearing." The terrified rustic was preparing for immediate flight, but Gregory caught him by the belt.

"How now! stand to thy ground, man," said he; "I've had speech at him not long ago. We came upon one another suddenly, to be sure, and I could not well escape, so I stood still. He did the same, shook his pale and saintly face, and, with a wave o' the hand, bade me pa.s.s on."

"But look thee," replied the other, "I'm bodily certain he walks without a shadow at his tail. See at that big tree there; why, the boughs bend before he touches 'em, like as they were stricken wi' the wind. I declare if the very trees don't step aside as if they're afraid of him.

I'll not tarry here, good man."

Disengaging himself from the other's gripe, Ralph ran through the wood in an opposite direction, and was soon out of sight. A loud shout from Gregory followed him as he fled, which only served to quicken his speed; and the hunchback was left alone. The figure which was the moving cause of this cowardly apprehension almost immediately disappeared behind a projecting crag, at the base of which grew a thick skirting of underwood; but Gregory pursued cautiously in the same direction. He had heard strange stories of demons guarding heaps of treasure; and it was currently reported that in former times a mine had been secretly worked in these parts for fear of discovery; all mines yielding gold and silver, so as to leave a profit from the working, being considered as "mines royal," and regarded as the property of the king.[57] Gregory's prevailing sin was avarice; and oftentimes this vice put on the appearance of courage, by rendering him daring for its gratification, though at heart a coward. He thought that if the treasure were once within his grasp neither man nor demon should regain it.

For a short time past this part of the forest had been commonly reported as the haunt of a spectre, in the likeness of a man clad in grey apparel, who by some was supposed to be an impalpable exhalation from a concealed mine existing in the neighbourhood. It is well known that these places are generally guarded by some covetous demon, who, though unable to apply the treasures to their proper use, yet strives to hinder any one else from gaining possession.

Gregory had once encountered it unexpectedly, face to face, but he did not then follow--surprise and timidity preventing him. He, however, resolved that, should another opportunity occur, he would track the spectre to its haunt, and by that means find out the opening and situation of the mine.

He now crept slowly towards the crag, behind which the figure had retired. Looking cautiously round the point, he again saw the dim spectral form only a few yards distant. Suddenly he heard a low whistle, and the next moment the mysterious figure had disappeared--not a vestige could be traced. He thrust his huge head between the boughs for a more uninterrupted survey, but nothing was seen, save the bare escarpment of the rock, and the low bushes, behind which the phantom had, a moment before, been visible. Though somewhat daunted, he crept closer to the spot, but darkness was fast closing around him, and the search was fruitless.

"Humph!" said the disappointed treasure-hunter audibly; "daylight and a stout pole may probe the mystery to the bottom. I'll mark this spot."

"Mark this spot," said another voice at some distance, repeating his words like an echo. The rock was certainly within "striking distance,"

and it might have been this accident which lent its aid to the delusion.

Gregory could not withstand so apparently supernatural an occurrence. He took to his heels, driven fairly off the field; nor did he look behind him until safely entrenched before a blazing fire in the kitchen at Waddington Hall.

"Out, ill-favoured hound!" said a serving wench, who was stirring a blubbering mess of porridge for supper. But Gregory was not in the humour to reply: he sat with one long lean hand under his chin, the other hung down listlessly to his heels, which were drawn securely under the stool on which he sat. His thoughts were not on the victuals, though by long use and instinct his eyes were turned in that direction.

"Thee art ever hankering after the brose, thou greedy churl!" continued the wench, wishful to goad him on to some intemperate reply.

But Gregory was still silent. At this unwonted lack of discourse, Janet, who generally contrived to bring his long tongue into exercise, was not a little astonished. It needed no great wit, any time, to set him a-grumbling; for neither kind word nor civil speech had he for kith or kin, for man or maid.

Looking steadfastly towards him, she struck her dark broad fists upon her hips, and, in a loud and contemptuous laugh, abruptly startled the cynic from his studies. He eyed her with a grin of malice and vexation.

"Thou she-ape, I wonder what first ye'arn made for; the plague o' both man and beast,--the worst plague that e'er Pharaoh waur punished wi'.

Screech on; I'll ha' my think out, spite o' thy caterwauling."

"Thou art a precious wonder, Master Crab. Squirt thy verjuice, when thou art roasting, some other way. I wonder what man-ape thy mother watch'd i' the breeding. She had been special fond o' children, I bethink me."

"And what knowest thou o' my dame's humours, thou curl-crop vixen?" said Gregory, unwarily drawn forth again from his taciturnity. "How should her inclinations be subject to thy knowledge?"

"She rear'd thee!" was the reply.

Two other hinds belonging to the household, who were watching the issue of the contest, here joined in a loud clamour at the victory; and Gregory, dogged with baiting, became silent, scowling defiance at his foe.

Waddington Hall was at that period a building of great antiquity.

Crooks, or great heavy arched timbers, ascending from the ground to the roof, formed the princ.i.p.al framework of the edifice, not unlike the inverted hull of some stately s.h.i.+p. The whole dwelling consisted of a thorough lobby and a hall, with a parlour beyond it, on one side, and the kitchens and offices on the other. The windows were narrow, scarcely more than a few inches wide, and, in all probability, not originally intended to contain gla.s.s.

The chimneys and fireplaces were wide and open; the apartments, except the hall, low, narrow, and inconvenient, divided by part.i.tions of oak, clumsy, and ill-carved with many strange and uncouth devices. The hall was, on the right of the entrance, lighted by one long low window; a ma.s.sy table stood beneath. The fireplace was on the opposite side, occupying nearly the whole breadth of the chamber. A screen of wainscot part.i.tioned off the lobby, carved in panels of grotesque workmans.h.i.+p.

Beyond the hall was the parlour, furnished as usual with an oaken bedstead, standing upon a ground-floor paved with stone. In this dormitory, the timbers of which were of gigantic proportions, slept Master Oliver and Mistress Joan Tempest,--the latter not a little given to that species of uxorious domination which most wives, when they apply themselves heartily to its acquisition, rarely fail to usurp.

"Here," says Dr Whitaker (this being the general style of building for centuries, and scarcely, if at all, deviated from),--"here the first offspring of our forefathers saw the light; and here too, without a wish to change their habits, fathers and sons in succession resigned their breath. It is not unusual to see one of these apartments now transformed into a modern drawing-room, where a thoughtful mind can scarcely forbear comparing the past and present,--the spindled frippery of modern furniture, the frail but elegant apparatus of a tea-table, the general decorum, the equal absence of everything to afflict or to transport, with what has been heard, or seen, or felt, within the same walls,--- the logs of oak, the clumsy utensils, and, above all, the tumultuous scenes of joy or sorrow, called forth, perhaps, by the birth of an heir, or the death of an husband, in minds little accustomed to restrain the ebullitions of pa.s.sion.

"Their system of life was that of domestic economy in perfection.

Occupying large portions of his own domains; working his land by oxen; fattening the aged, and rearing a constant supply of young ones; growing his own oats, barley, and sometimes wheat; making his own malt, and furnished often with kilns for the drying of corn at home, the master had pleasing occupation in his farm, and his cottagers regular employment under him. To these operations the high troughs, great garners and chests, yet remaining, bear faithful witness. Within, the mistress, her maid-servants, and daughters, were occupied in spinning flax for the linen of the family, which was woven at home. Cloth, if not always manufactured out of their own wool, was purchased by wholesale, and made up into clothes at home also."[58]

This is a true picture of the simple habits of our ancestors, and will apply, with little variation, to the scene before us.

Here might be seen the carved "armoury,"--the wardrobe, bright, clean, and even magnificent. On the huge rafters hung their usual store of dried hams, beef, mutton, and flitches of bacon. In the store-room, great chests were filled to the brim with oatmeal and flour. All wore the aspect of plenty, and an hospitality that feared neither want nor diminution.

In one corner of the hall at Waddington sat Mistress Joan, her only daughter Elizabeth, and two or three female domestics.

They had been spinning, trolling out the while their country ditties with great pathos and simplicity.

Being nigh supper-time, the group were just loitering in the twilight ere they separated for the meal.