Part 7

Londesborough is supposed to have been the Delgovitia of the Romans, and was seated at the foot of the road from Eboracum, one branch going to the ferry over the Humber at Brough, and the other across Holderness to the seaport at Ravenspurn. It is presumed, also, that the Saxon king, Eadwine, had a palace here, and that within its walls he held his conference with Paulinus, which resulted in the demolition of the temple of Woden at Goodmandingham, two miles distant. The De Vescis had built a mansion here, and laid out a park with a noble avenue of trees, a mile in length, in which Lady Clifford had played when a child, Londesborough having been her birthplace. The estates passed at the death of Henry de Bromflete, in 1466, to his daughter, Margaret, and through her to the De Cliffords, in whose possession they remained until the death, without issue male, of Henry V., and last Earl of Cumberland, when they passed, by the marriage of his daughter and heiress, to the Earl of Burlington, of the Boyle family. The old mansion was taken down in 1819, and the park divided into farms.

It was with a feeling of melancholy satisfaction that Lady Clifford found herself in a species of security in her ancestral home, and she longed to ramble at will about the park and village, as she had been wont to do in bygone days, but it was not prudent to indulge in such pleasures, her position necessitating the utmost seclusion of herself and children from the outer world. About a month afterwards she sent a messenger secretly to Skipton, to ascertain what had occurred there since she left, and on his return learnt that the King's Commissioners had visited the Castle and taken possession of it and the estates in the name of the Crown; moreover, that they had made particular inquiries after Lady Clifford and "the brats of the Butcher of Wakefield," but were put off by being told by the domestics in charge that they had left Skipton a month ago, and gone they knew not where, but believed to some country across the sea. The Yorkists, however, seem to have suspected that this was not the truth, and shortly afterwards strangers of sinister aspect were observed to be lurking about Londesborough. This excited great terror in the breast of Lady Clifford, who saw clearly that her children were in great danger, and she took prompt measures for their safety. She had three children--Henry, the eldest, about seven years of age; Richard, the younger son; and a daughter--Elizabeth, affianced to one of the Plumptons of Plumpton. She soon decided on her plans. The maid who had nursed her when a child, had married a shepherd on the estate, and Henry was placed under her charge, to be brought up as her child, to live as his foster-parents lived, and follow the occupation of tending sheep on the hillsides, in which measure, he, being an intelligent child, cheerfully acquiesced, assumed the shepherd's garb, and attended to the duties of his new station without the slightest murmur, his sole regret being the enforced absence from his mother. Richard was sent in charge of a careful servant to Ravenspurn, and thence carried across the sea to Flanders, whilst Elizabeth, who, it was supposed, would not be molested, remained as the sole comfort and solace of her mother. These measures were not taken a moment too soon, for "a little after they were thus disposed of, the adverse party examined their mother about them, who told them that she had ordered them to be carried beyond sea to be bred up there; but whether they were alive or not she could not tell, which answer satisfied them for the present," and, after making strict search without effect, they departed.

In 1466, Lord de Vesci died, and Lady Clifford, as his heiress, succeeded to his estates, when a rumour reached Londesborough from the Court that the King suspected that the children were in concealment there, upon which Lady Clifford sent the shepherd, with his wife and young Henry, to a farm in a remote and wild part of Cumberland, where there were few inhabitants, and no roads upon which passengers would travel, excepting from one sheep track to another. In this lonely solitude, tending his sheep on the bleak hills, Henry grew up from boyhood to youth, and from youth to manhood--a mere shepherd and little more. His fare was that of an ordinary peasant--oaten or rye bread, occasionally swine flesh, and water from the running brook. His bed consisted of sheepskins on a heap of straw, and his shelter from the inclemency of the weather a straw-thatched cottage. He associated with the few scattered people of the district as one of themselves, and joined the young men in the rude sports of the period. He grew up without any education whatever, and knew neither how to read nor write; yet he had a soul attuned to higher things, and when abroad at night with his sheep would observe the constellations in the heavens, and weave theories in his own mind relative to the origin, motions, and uses of the glittering specks which studded the firmament over his head, a study which he afterwards pursued with more intelligence, in company with the Canons of Bolton at Barden Tower. Thus he lived until his thirty-second year, thinking only to live and die a Cumberland shepherd, and possibly to marry, and be the progenitor of a race of peasants, who should have no reminiscences of the glories of Skipton, or the martial deeds of their illustrious ancestors.

The political world of England, however, had not stood still in the interval, mighty events had been taking place. Edward, the King, had been gathered to his fathers, after the judicial murder of his brother, the Duke of Clarence. His sons, Edward V. and the Duke of York, were murdered by their uncle, Richard of Gloucester, who usurped the throne. Henry, Earl of Richmond, with Lancastrian blood in his veins, invaded England, and the battle of Bosworth was fought in the year 1485, when the usurper Richard was slain, and Richmond ascended the throne as King Henry VII.

The Yorkist dynasty having now come to an end, there remained no more fear for the Cliffords. The shepherd was brought from the fells of Cumberland to Londesborough. Soon after the Attainder was reversed, the confiscated estates restored, and the Clifford banner again floated in the breeze from the towers of Skipton. But the Shepherd Lord felt not at home amid the splendours of his castle, and he fitted up one of the keeper's lodges in Barden Forest for his residence, where he lived in great simplicity, spending his days in hunting and his nights in watching the stars, and studying astronomy with the Canons of Bolton, with such rude instruments as were then to be procured.

In 1513, when about sixty years of age, he received a summons to attend the expedition into Scotland, with a contingent of men-at-arms, and held a command at the battle of Flodden, where he displayed the hereditary military skill and valour of the Cliffords.

"From Penigent to Pendle Hill, From Linton to Long Addingham, And all that Craven coasts did till, They with the lusty Clifford came. All Staincliffe Hundred went with him, With striplings strong from Wharfedale, And all that Hauton Hills did climb, With Longstroth eke and Litton dale, Whose milk-fed fellows, fleshly bred, Well brown'd, with sounding bows upbend, All such as Horton fells had fed, On Clifford's banners did attend."

--_Ballad of Flodden Field._

He survived the battle ten years, died in 1523, at about the seventieth year of his age, and was buried with his ancestors in the church of Bolton.

Margaret, Lady Clifford, married for her second husband, Launcelot Threlkeld, and bore him three daughters. She survived her first husband thirty years, and the restitution seven years, dying in 1491, at Londesborough. She was buried in the church there, near the altar, under a slab, with an inlaid brass plate bearing the following inscription:--"Orate pro anima Margarete, D'ne Clifford et Vescy, olim spouse nobilissimi viri joh'is D'm Clifford et Westmoreland, filie et hereditis Henrici Bromflet, quondam D'ni Vescy, etc. ... Matris Henrici Domini Clifford, Westmoreland et Vescy, quae obiit 15 die mens Aprilis, Anno Domini 1491, cujus corpus sub hoc marmore est humatum."

The Felons of Ilkley.

The town of Ilkley, on the Wharfe, now so well known to tourists for the beauty of its situation and the grandeur of the natural scenery surrounding it, and to invalids for the invigorating and restorative qualities of its waters, is a place of very ancient date. It was built and fortified by the proprætor, Virius Lupus, in the time of the Emperor Severus, the fortress being situated on a precipitous bank of the Wharfe, and a cohort stationed there. Remains of the intrenchments are still to be seen, and altars, sepulchral stones, and other memorials of the Roman Olicaria have frequently been disinterred. Under the Saxons, too, it was a place of some importance, with a church and priest. In the churchyard there are some remarkable relics of this age, consisting of three stone crosses, with curiously convoluted knots and scroll work. Afterwards it sank into a mere village, but with a grammar school, founded in 1601 by the parishioners, and so remained until recent times, when the fame of its salubrious springs went forth over the land and attracted crowds of fashionable invalids and hypochondriacs.

It was in the latter half of the seventeenth century, when the reign of the Puritans had come to an end, and the "Merry Monarch" had been restored to the throne of the Stuarts, bringing with him the profligate, licentious, and profane manners of the Court of Versailles, that one fine summer's afternoon a party of roysterers, who had been at a cock-fight, burst into the kitchen of the mud-built and thatched alehouse of Ilkley, calling upon Mistress Laycock, the alewife, for sundry flagons of ale wherewith to moisten their throats, parched and dry with halloaing and shouting out bets at the cocking match. The twenty years' rule of the Puritans, with the suppression of sports, theatres, and other amusements, and the substitution of long sermons and long prayers, had produced the natural reaction, and now the people of Ilkley, as in other places, returned with renewed zest to their bull-baiting, dog fights, cudgel matches, and their more innocent amusements of dancing round the maypole, holding yule-feasts and village fairs, and mumming in grotesque masquerade on Plough Monday.

The roysterers who thus boisterously invaded Dame Laycock's kitchen were Tom Heber, a young scapegrace, son of Reginald Heber, a barrister-at-law of the Middle Temple, and an offshoot of the ancient family of Heebeare, who had been settled in Craven for some centuries. He had been brought up in the old gabled and cross-timbered house of his father in Ilkley, had been well educated, and was a clever and accomplished young fellow; moreover, his father had taken him once or twice to London, and he had been a witness of the revels and immoralities of Whitehall, which struck his fancy as being the perfection of human bliss. His companions this afternoon were Will Hudson, the village cobbler, who infinitely preferred swaggering at a bull-baiting to hammering at the lapstone; Walter Pollard, a shoeing smith, whose feats at tossing off the contents of a blackjack were the admiration of his comrades; Jack Smithers, a journeyman flesher, whose dog was the pride of the village for his pluck in tackling any animal of his size or more than his size; and two or three other rapscallions of the village, who were ever foremost in a brawl, and more frequently seen in the purlieus of the alehouse than in pursuit of their proper vocations.

These worthies had now seated themselves on the long-settle which faced a fire of wood on the hearth-stone, over which swung a large cauldron, and called out vociferously for the ale. "Now then, Mother Laycock," shouted Heber, "when is this ale coming?" "The old score's not paid yet, Master Thomas," replied she, from another room, "and I told you that I would not draw another pint until that was paid." "Oh! you won't, won't you; then your crockery shall suffer for your obstinacy; so here goes," and down he dashed an earthenware jug on the floor, upon which she rushed in, and opening a cupboard door, showed a long score chalked against him. "Oh! hang the score," said he, "you know I shall pay you some day; my father cannot be so hard as to keep me entirely without money." "But, Master Thomas, I cannot afford to give such long trust." "Now, Mistress Laycock, you know I am a good customer, and always pay in the long run; is this ale forthcoming?" and down he threw another piece of crockery, adding, "It shall all go if you do not bring the ale." The old dame, terrified at the breakage of her pots, then gave in and produced the ale, adding it to the score on the cupboard door.

The ale jug passed merrily round, and the conversation turned first upon the points of the cock-fight they had been witnessing, and then upon the merits of the competitors in a wrestling match which was coming off the following Sunday. They then began to complain of their scant fortunes, not attributing it at all to their lack of industry in business. "I'll tell you what it is," said Heber, "it's a parlous shame that my father keeps me so short of money." "It is! it is!" echoed his companions. "He has brought me up as a gentleman, and given me a good education, but does not allow me the means to support that position, and I say again that it is cursed shame; but never mind, boys, the time is coming when I shall have plenty of gold to scatter about amongst you, my jolly companions." "Brayvo! brayvo! three cheers for Squire Heber." "Meanwhile," continued he, "it is the best philosophy to make the best of what we have, to enjoy life as much as we can, to dance, and drink, and sing, and fling dull care to the winds. So drink, boys! drink! and I will sing you one of Cowley's new songs which I picked up in London." And he trolled forth--

"Fill the bowl with rosy wine; Around our temples roses twine; And let us cheerfully awhile, Like the vine and roses smile, Crown'd with roses we contemn Gyges' wealthy diadem.

To-day is ours; what do we fear? To-day is ours; we have it here. Let's treat it kindly, that it may Wish, at least, with us to stay. Let's banish business; banish sorrow; To the gods belongs to morrow."

Of course, the song was rapturously applauded by the listeners, who caught the general sentiment, but were unable to understand the allusions or appreciate the refinement of the language. Suddenly Heber exclaimed--"Lads! a bright thought has flashed across my mind. We want money, and money we must have. Old Alic Squire is well to do, and always has a considerable sum of money by him, and it would be a charity to relieve him of the care and anxiety of keeping it in that lonely house of his. The thing could be easily done. We have but to disguise ourselves, break into his house, take what we require, and leave him to attribute the appropriation, I won't call it theft, to professional burglars." The confederates highly approved of the scheme, and gave a ready assent, after which they arranged a plan of operation, and agreed to carry it into execution three nights hence.

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.