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."
Another horse was then brought from the stables for her accommodation,
and the party rode together to York. They were placed in the custody
of the Sheriff's officers, but not in prison, and a few days after
were brought before the Sheriff. He interrogated Gilbert with great
severity, who acknowledged the marriage, and the lady with more
courtesy, who replied with modesty, pleading that she was not aware
that marrying the man to whom she had given her heart could be a
matter of offence to the King, adding that, so far as she knew, even a
milkmaid or a peasant girl was at liberty to marry whom she chose. The
Sheriff explained that she was very different from a peasant girl, who
was a mere serf, and that it mattered not whom she married, but that
she was an inheritor of a portion of the land of England, the whole of
which belonged to the King, and that such being the case, it was
necessary for the welfare of the realm that he should have in his hand
the disposal of such heiresses in marriage, so that their estates
should not fall into the hands of unworthy persons. "I can
understand," he continued, "that you, a simple maiden, should be
ignorant of this essential feature of the constitution of the realm,
and being so, are entitled rather to compassion than blame for having
been inveigled into this unlawful marriage, which, in the eye of the
law, is no marriage at all, but concubinage. As for you, sir,"
addressing himself to Gilbert, "you are supposed to be cognisant of
the laws of the land, and have been guilty of a gross crime and
misdemeanour, which may lead to serious consequences. It will be
necessary for me to lay the matter before the King's grace, and bring
you before his tribunal of justice, so that he may deal with you as he
deems fitting, and rest assured, it will go well with you if you
escape with your life. As for your wife, as you call her, it is
probable you will never more see her; but she will be well cared for,
if that be any consolation to you, and shall be provided with a
suitable and worthy husband." On hearing this announcement, Eleanor
uttered a piercing shriek, and fell fainting to the floor. She was
carried away into an adjoining apartment, whilst her husband,
betraying signs of deep agitation, attempted to speak, but was
prevented doing so by direction of the Judge.
What followed may be told in the words of the Plumpton MS.:--In the
year 1184, while the King (Henry II.) was sojourning at Worcester with
his army, with intent to make war with Rhys-ap-Griffin, a certain
youth was brought there in fetters, sprung of noble lineage, and whose
name was Gilbert de Plumpton, whom Ranulph de Glanville, the King's
justiciary, had in odium, and sought to put to death, laying to his
charge that he had ravished a certain maiden in the King's gift, the
daughter of Roger de Guilevast, and kept her to him as his wife, and
that, in the night-time, he broke through six doors in the abode of
the girl's father, and took a hunting-horn and a headstall, etc.,
along with the said maiden. He added, moreover, that all these things
he carried off by theft and robbery, and upon the issue he offered to
abide the law. But Ranulph de Glanville, wishing to make away with
him, because he designed to give the same maiden (whom the said
Gilbert had already known after their espousals) to Reiner, Sheriff of
Yorkshire, with her father's inheritance, further exhorted those who
were to try Gilbert to adjudge him to death; and so it was done, for
they sentenced him to be hanged, and whilst he was being led to the
gibbet, intelligence was brought of the proceedings in his case to
Baldwin, Bishop of the same city of Worcester. The which Bishop,
though in great grief for the condemnation of the youth, was, however,
exhorted by his attendants to rescue him from death. They said that he
could legally do this, because it was a Sunday the same day, and upon
it the Feast of Blessed Mary Magdalen. The Bishop (who was a meek and
good man) acquiesced in their arguments, and having mounted on
horseback, quickly rode after the executioners, who were leading the
youth to the gibbet, and had now arrived at the place. Already was the
youth, with his hands bound behind his back, and with a green band
covering his eyes, and an iron chain round his neck--the executioners
being on the point of hoisting the youth up as the Bishop arrived with
a multitude of people.
Having alighted from his horse, and running up, he stationed himself
by the side of the prisoner, thus exclaiming and saying, "I forbid
you, on the part of God and the blessed Mary Magdalen, and under
sentence of excommunication, to hang this man on this day; because
today is the day of our Lord and the feast of the blessed Mary
Magdalen. Wherefore it is not lawful for you to contaminate the day."
The executioners replied, "Who are you, and what madness prompts you
that you have the audacity to impede the execution of the King's
justice?" But the Bishop, with no less firmness of heart than of
speech, rejoins, "Not madness, but the clemency of heavenly pity,
urges me; nor do I desire to impede the King's justice, but to warn
against an unwary act, lest by the contamination of a solemn day, you
and the King incur the wrath of the Eternal God."
After some altercation, divine authority at length prevailed; and at
the entreaty of the Bishop, he who was bound was unloosed;
nevertheless he was delivered over to the keeper of the King's castle
in safe custody, and in the morning to be led again to execution. But
the Lord Almighty, who never deserts those who hope in Him, granted
longer span of life to the said Gilbert. For when all these matters
were reported to King Henry, he sent his messengers in the greatest
haste to the castle with orders that the youth should not be hanged.
This story is deemed apochryphal by some authorities as being utterly
inconsistent with the mild, beneficent, and just character of the
Justiciary. Foss, who refers to it as a dereliction from the path of
judicial integrity, says--
"Presuming the story to be true, the Chief Justiciary's merit must
have been great indeed to induce the King to pardon so monstrous a
perversion of justice," adding, "some doubt, however, cannot but be
attached to the relation, not merely from its extravagant ferocity and
the impunity of its perpetrators, but from the assertion of the work
which bears Glanville's name, who says--'None of the Judges have so
hardened a front, or so rash a presumption, as to dare to deviate,
however slightly, from the path of justice, or utter a sentence in any
measure contrary to the truth.' It is scarcely possible to suppose
that a King so just as Henry II. would have overlooked the guilt of
the Judge, or have visited the innocence of the accused with
imprisonment."
On the other side, Roger de Hoveden relates the story with some
circumstantiality, under the date of 1184, who was not only a
contemporary, but was a native of Howden, not many miles distant from
Plumpton. He adds further, that "The Knight (Gilbert) being rescued
from death, was kept in prison by Ranulph de Glanville until the
King's death (1189)." In the Annals of the Exchequer also, we find
given the expenses of conveying Gilbert de Plumpton from York to
Worcester, on this occasion.
What became of Gilbert and Eleanor afterwards is not recorded, or
mentioned in the tradition, but we may hope that after his release on
the accession of Richard I., they were reunited, and that their
oppressor, having died the following year, they were enabled to pass
the remainder of their lives in tranquility and happiness.
The Topcliffe Insurrection.
"I wayle, I wepe, I sobbe, I sighe full sore,
The dedely fate, the dolefulle destenny
Of him that is gone, alas! without restore,
Of the blode royall descendinge nobelly;
Whos lordshepe doutles was slayne lamentably,
Thorow tresen ageyn hym compassyd and wrought,
Trew to his Prince, in worde, in dede, and thought."
--SKELTON.
The prevailing blemish in the character of King Henry VII. was
avarice, which led him, through his rapacious ministers, Empson and
Dudley, to oppress the people with extortionate taxation. To save his
exchequer he avoided foreign wars, and once only did he cross the sea
with that object, in the cause of Anne of Bretagne, whose fief was
claimed by the French King; but on arriving at Boulogne, King Charles,
appealing to his master-passion, bought him off by means of a large
bribe. For the purpose of this war, Parliament, in February, 1489,
granted a tax of one-tenth of a penny, for a subsidy of £75,000. This
oppressive tax was very unpopular, and especially so in Yorkshire and
the north, the people about Thirsk, particularly, being loud in their
murmurs. They were goaded on by the rough and excited harangues of one
John à Chambre, whom Lord Bacon describes as "a base fellow called
John Chambre, a very brute feu, who bore most sway among the vulgar."
He had for his fellow leader Sir John Egremont, who, although not
quite so boisterous and unpolished as Chambre, was equally resolute
and vigorous in his opposition to fiscal extortion; and these two
leaders gathered around them a body of rustics and mechanics, who
armed themselves with such weapons as they could procure, such as
scythes, bill-hooks, and bludgeons. Vowing they would not lay down
their arms until the tax was repealed, they went from village to
village, and town to town, inveighing against the King's evil
counsellors, explaining their designs, and enlisting recruits to their
banner.
An account of these turbulent proceedings reached the ears of the
King, who sent an order down to the Earl of Northumberland, the
Lord-Lieutenant of Yorkshire, to explain the necessity of the tax, to
uphold the honour and dignity of the nation. The Earl wrote back to
the King a letter of remonstrance, showing that the tax was
intolerably oppressive, a burden that they were scarcely able to bear,
and praying him to reconsider it, and make some abatement in the
demand. To this he received a reply that not a single penny should be
abated, and he was enjoined to see that it was exacted to the
uttermost farthing.
Henry Percy, fourth Earl of Northumberland, was one of the most potent
nobles of the north, and had castles at Topcliffe, on the Swale, near
Thirsk; at Leckonfield, near Beverley; and at Wressil, near
Howden--all maintained with a splendour almost regal, with barons,
knights, and esquires as members of his household and retinue. The
Castle of Topcliffe, the earliest and chief seat of the Percies, stood
with its massive keep, battlemented towers, gateway, walls, and
dungeon, upon an elevated mound called Maiden Bower, on the river
Swale, near the confluence of the Cod-beck. From its nearness to
Thirsk, the focus of the insurrection, the Earl came thither from
Leckonfield to execute the command of the King, and he called a
folk-môte at Thirsk for that purpose. With his vassals and tenants he
was popular, being a kind and considerate master and landlord, and by
the people of Yorkshire he was held in high esteem, so that he was
under no apprehension, although the people were in arms; and he took
no measures for his safety in case of tumult, feeling assured that
there was no danger, and that he would be able, by his explanations
and expostulations, to appease the angry feelings of the multitude.
On the morning of the day appointed for the meeting, there was a great
assemblage of people in Thirsk, and excited crowds coming along all
the roads leading thither from Ripon, Boroughbridge, Easingwold, and
the neighbouring villages. The people were armed chiefly with
bludgeons, and displayed two banners, one inscribed "No taxes; down
with Empson and Dudley," the other, "Oh for the days of good King
Dickon." Richard III., when residing at Middleham, as Duke of
Gloucester, was exceedingly popular with the poor, mingling with them
in their amusements, and consorting with them as familiarly as if they
were his equals, probably with a politic eye to the future. When he
was carrying out his scheme of usurpation, he sent for a contingent of
men-at-arms from his Middleham estates, who assembled for review in
Finsbury Fields, when one of his Yorkshire tenants stepped out of the
ranks, and, clapping him on the shoulder, said, "Ah's main blythe
thoo's goin' to be King, Dickon."
Egremont and Chambre were in the midst on horseback, riding hither and
thither, exhorting the people with inflammatory speeches to be firm in
their determination not to pay the tax, telling them that all England
was with them, and not to listen to the Earl, who was one of the
King's advisers in levying the tax; further, that if need be they
would lead them to London and compel the King to remit the tax, or
drag him from his throne.
At this time the Earl rode into the town, surrounded by a body of
retainers, all men of rank, habited in brilliant costume, the livery
of the Percies. He was assailed with mingled cheers from his tenants,
and hisses and shouts of opprobrium from the insurgent mob. He
attempted to address them, but the uproar became greater; again he
made the attempt, when there arose a deafening discord of sounds from
drums, kettles, and pans, accompanied by the yelling and howling of
the mob, when, finding he could not gain their ear, he and his
followers turned their horses' heads and trotted back to Topcliffe. As
they passed away, the leaders shouted, "Bravely done, my merry men;
this is our first victory; let us on to Topcliffe, and beard him in
his castle, and then for London, to face the tyrant King in the
Tower." The Earl and his followers gained the castle, and were seated
in consultation on what were best to be done in the emergency, when
loud shouts assailed their ears from outside, and, looking forth, they
perceived that they had been followed by the mob, infuriated by the
harangues of their leaders. Although implored not to do so, but to
shut the gates and stand a siege, the Earl went out and faced the
insurgents.
"What want you, good people?" he inquired.
"A remission of the tax," replied Egremont.
"I have no power or authority to do so," said the Earl.
"Who but you advised the King that not a penny should be abated?"
shouted Chambre, and the mob yelled, and cried, "Down with him; he
wants to rob our children of their bread."
The Earl was a proud man, and scorned to give a denial to the
insinuation, which served to inflame the passions of the rioters to a
still higher degree.
"He's silent, and that proves his guilt," shouted Chambre. "Down with
him; such bloodsuckers should not be allowed to exist."
And then there was a brandishing of clubs and a rush forward of the
mob, and in a few moments the Earl was stricken down, and beaten
savagely as he lay. The mob then entered the castle tumultuously, and
killed several of his domestics; but the barons and knights, fled to
seek safety, or, as Skelton has it--
"Trustinge in noblemen, that wer wyth hym there;
Bot all they fled from hym from falshode or fere,
He was envyronde aboute on every syde,
Withe his enemys that were stark mad and wode;
Yet whils he stode he gave them woundes wyde,
Alas! for southe! what thoughe his mynde were goode,
His courage manly; yet there he shed his bloode.
All left alone, alas! he fowt in vayne,
For cruelly among them ther he was slayne."