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.