"O Jesu I for Thy mercies' sake,
And for Thy bitter passion,
Save us from the axe of the Tower,
And from Sir Ralph of Assheton!"
It would be a curious inquiry to trace the origin of services and other
customs, paid by tenants to their feudal sovereign. Connected as the
subject is with the following tradition, it may be worth while if we
attempt to throw together a few notices on that head. A rose was not a
very unfrequent acknowledgment. Near to the scene of our story, the
tenant of a certain farm called Lime Hurst was compelled to bring a rose
at the feast of St John Baptist. He held other lands; but they were
subject only to the customary rules of the lordship, such as ploughing,
harrowing, carting turves from Ashton-moss to the lord's house, leading
his corn in harvest, &c. This species of service was called boon-work;
and hence the old adage, "I am served like a boon-shearer." It, however,
seems that some trifling present was made in return. In a MS. of
receipts and disbursements belonging to the Cheethams, kept in the time
of Charles II., there is an item for moneys paid for gloves to the
boon-shearers at Clayton Hall, where Humphrey Cheetham, founder of the
college at Manchester, then resided. The acknowledgment of a rose before
mentioned might seem to have some allusion to the Knights Hospitallers.
The estate of Lime Hurst was called John of Jerusalem's land, and the
tithes and rent, in all probability, once went to the support of that
order.
In the Ashton pedigree we find a Nicholas Assheton, as it was then
spelt, who enrolled himself amongst these warrior-monks. It seems not
improbable that the profits of this estate belonged to him.
The custom of heriotship, however, was the most oppressive, being paid
and exacted from the parties at a time when they were least able to
render it. Our tradition will best illustrate this remnant of barbarism,
to which, even in the customs of the most savage tribes, we should
scarcely find a parallel.
In the early records of the Ashton family we find that Thomas Stavely,
or Stayley, held a place called the Bestal by paying one penny at
Christmas. This Bestal was, perhaps, a place of security or confinement.
Adjoining the hall yard, the ancient residence of the Ashtons, is an old
stone building facing the south, now called the Dungeon. It is flanked
at the east and west corners by small towers with conical stone roofs.
The wall is pierced by two pointed windows. Judging from its appearance,
it must have been a place of strength; the name Bestal being probably a
corruption of Bastile, basilion, or bastilion--all of which we find
appropriated to places of this description. Tradition, indeed, says the
ancient lords of Ashton made this a place of confinement, when the power
of life and death were at their command. A field near the old hall,
still called Gallows Meadow, was then used as a place of execution.
Sir John Assheton, in the fifth year of Henry VI., became possessed of
the manor on payment of one penny annually. He is generally supposed to
have founded the church about the year 1420. We find him assigning the
forms or benches to his tenants: the names for whose uses they are
appointed are all females. From this it may seem that seats in our
churches were first put up for their convenience. Eighteen forms or
benches are mentioned for the occupation of one hundred wives and
widows, who are named, besides their daughters and servant wenches.
Their husbands had not this privilege, being forced to stand or kneel in
the aisles, as the service required. In the windows there yet remains a
considerable quantity of painted glass, but very much mutilated. Three
or four figures on the north side represent a king, saints, &c. In the
chancel are the coats and effigies of the Asshetons in armour, kneeling.
In one part seems to have been portrayed the invention of the Holy Cross
by St Helen. At whatever period the church was built, the steeple must
either have been erected afterwards, or have undergone a considerable
repair in the time of the last Sir Thomas Assheton; for upon the south
side are the arms of Ashton impaling Stayley. There is a tradition, that
while the workmen were one day amusing themselves at cards, a female
unexpectedly presented herself. She asked them to turn up an ace,
promising, in case of compliance, that she would build several yards of
the steeple; upon which they fortunately turned up the ace of spades.
This tale may owe its origin to the following circumstances:--Upon the
marriage of Sir Thomas Assheton with the daughter of Ralph Stayley, a
considerable accumulation of property was the consequence. This might
induce him to repair the church, and perform sundry other acts of
charity and beneficence. Whilst the work was going on, Lady Elizabeth
Assheton, it is not improbable, surprised the builders at their pastime;
and giving a broad hint that a part of her money was being employed in
the erection, might desire that her arms should be fixed in the steeple,
impaled with those of her husband. The shape of an escutcheon, having a
considerable resemblance to a spade-ace, in all likelihood was the
origin of the fable.
Sir John Assheton, the founder of the church, is the reputed father of
Ralph, whom the following tradition commemorates. The origin of "_Riding
the Black Lad_" is involved in great obscurity--some ascribing it to the
tyranny of Sir Ralph, and others to the following circumstance, which
may have been fabricated merely to throw off the odium attached to his
name:--In the reign of Edward III., one Thomas Assheton fought under
Queen Philippa in the battle of Neville's Cross. Riding through the
ranks of the enemy, he bore away the royal standard from the Scotch
King's tent, who himself was afterwards taken prisoner. King Edward, on
his return from France, conferred on Thomas the honour of knighthood,
with the title of Sir Thomas Assheton of Ashton-under-Line. To
commemorate this singular display of valour, he instituted the custom of
"Riding the Black Lad" upon Easter Monday at Ashton; leaving the sum of
ten shillings yearly to support it, together with his own suit of black
velvet and a coat of mail. Which of these accounts is correct we cannot
presume to determine. There is, however, sufficient testimony upon
record to account for the dislike entertained towards the memory of Sir
Ralph Assheton.
In the town of Ashton-under-Line, or Lime, called in the ancient
rent-rolls Ashton-sub-Lima, a singular custom prevails. On Easter Monday
in every year, the ceremony of "Riding the Black Lad" takes place.
According to some, it is a popular expression of abhorrence towards the
memory of Sir Ralph Assheton, commonly called _The Black Knight_, whose
character and conduct would seem to warrant the odium thus attached to
his name. The following is a brief account of the ceremony;--An effigy
is made of a man in black armour, and this image is deridingly
emblazoned with some emblem of the occupation of the first couple that
are married in the course of the year. The Black Boy is then fixed on
horseback, and after being led in procession round the town, is
dismounted, made to supply the place of a shooting-butt, and all sorts
of fire-arms being in requisition for the occasion, he is put to an
ignominious death. Five shillings per annum are reserved from some
neighbouring estate for the perpetuation of this absurd custom.
Sir Ralph Assheton was sheriff of York in the reign of Edward IV., and
knight marshal and lieutenant of the Tower under Richard III., being in
great esteem with the latter monarch. In the Harleian MSS. annuities are
mentioned as being granted to him, with divers lordships, and a tun of
wine yearly. So powerful was his jurisdiction, that a grant was made him
to the effect, that if in cases of emergency suitable persons could not
be procured for the trial of delinquents, his own authority should be a
sufficient warrant for the purpose. Hence, from the nature of his
office, and the powers that were intrusted to him by the king, and
probably too from the natural bent of his disposition, arose the popular
dislike which vented itself in the well-known traditionary distich we
have taken as our motto.
In those days, when the gentry went little from home, set times of mirth
and recreation were constantly observed in their spacious and hospitable
mansions. Yule, or Christmas, was a feast of especial note and
observance. The great hall was mostly the scene of these boisterous
festivities; where, from the gallery, the lord of the mansion and his
family might witness the sports, without being incommoded by the uncouth
and rustic manners of their guests. It was the custom to invite all who
were in any way dependent on the proprietor, and who owed him suit and
service.
The mansion of Sir Ralph had, like those of the neighbouring gentry, its
lofty and capacious hall. At one end was a gallery resting on the heads
of three or four gigantic figures carved in oak, perhaps originally
intended as rude representations of the ancient Caryatides.
The Christmas but one following the elevation of Richard to the throne,
in the year of our redemption 1483, was a season of unusual severity.
Many tenants of Sir Ralph were prevented from assembling at the Yule
feast. A storm had rendered the roads almost impassable, keeping most of
the aged and infirm from sharing in this glorious pastime.
The Yule-log was larger than ever, and the blaze kept continually on the
roar. No ordinary scale of consumption could withstand the attacks of
the enemy, and thaw the icicles from his beard.
The wassail-bowl had gone freely about, and the company--Hobbe Adamson,
Hobbe of the Leghes, William the Arrowsmith, Jack the Woodman, Jack the
Hind, John the Slater, Roger the Baxter, with many others, together with
divers widows of those who owed service to their lord, clad in their
holiday costume--black hoods and brown jackets and petticoats--were all
intent upon their pastimes, well charged with fun and frolic. Their
mirth was, however, generally kept within the bounds of decency and
moderation by a personage of great importance, called the Lord of
Misrule, who, though not intolerant of a few coarse and practical jokes
upon occasion, was yet, in some measure, bound to preserve order and
decorum on pain of being degraded from his office. To punish the
refractory, a pair of stone hand-stocks was commonly used, having
digit-holes for every size, from the paws of the ploughman to the taper
fingers of my lady's maiden. This instrument was in the especial keeping
of the dread marshal of these festivities.
The custom of heriotship, or a fine payable on the death of the
landholder to the feudal lord, was then in most cases rigorously
exacted. This claim fell with great severity upon widows in poor
circumstances, who were, in too many instances, thus deprived of their
only means of subsistence. Then came fees and fines to the holy Church,
so that the bereaved and disconsolate creature had need to wish herself
in the dark dwelling beside her husband. Sir David Lindsay may not be
unaptly quoted in illustration of this subject. His poem called "The
Monarch" contains the following frightful picture of the exactions and
enormities committed on these defenceless and unoffending victims of
their rapacity:--
"And also the vicar, as I trow,
Will not fail to take a cow,
And uppermost cloths, though babes them an,
From a poor seely husbandman,
When he lyes ready to dy,
Having small children two or three,
And his three kine withouten mo,--
The vicar must have one of tho,
With the gray cloke that covers the bed,
Howbeit that they be poorly cled;
And if the wife die on the morn,
And all the babes should be forlorn,
The other cow he takes away,
With her poor cote and petycote gray:
And if within two days or three
The eldest child shall happen to dy,
Of the third cow he shall be sure,
When he hath under his cure;
And father and mother both dead be,
Beg must the babes without remedy.
They hold the corse at the church style,
And thare it must remain awhile,
Till they get sufficient surety
For the church right and duty.
Then comes the landlord perforce,
And takes to him the fattest horse;
Poor labourers would that law were down,
Which never was founded by reason.
I heard them say, under confession,
That this law was brother to oppression."
As it drew on towards eventide, the mirth increased. The rude legendary
ballads of Sir Lancelot of the Lake, Beavois of Southampton, Robin Hood,
The Pindar of Wakefield, and the Friar of Fountain's Abbey, Clim of the
Clough, Ranulph of Chester, his Exploits in the Holy Land, together with
the wondrous deeds of war and love performed by Sir Roger of Calverly,
had been sung and recited to strange and uncouth music. Carols, too,
were chanted between whiles in a most unreverend fashion. A huge
Christmas pie, made in the shape of a cratch or cradle, was placed on
the board. This being accounted a great test of orthodoxy, every one was
obliged to eat a slice, lest he should be suspected of favouring the
heretical tenets then spreading widely throughout the land.
Blind-man's-buff and hot-cockles had each their turn; but the sport that
seemed to afford the most merriment was a pendulous stick having an
apple at one end, and on the other a lighted candle, so that the
unfortunate and liquorish wight who bit at this tempting bait generally
burnt his nose on the rebound, as the stick bounced to and fro on its
pivot. The hall was now cleared for the masks. In this play, the Black
Knight himself generally joined, laughing heartily at and hurrying on
the mis-haps of the revellers. Many horrible and grotesque-looking
shapes and disguises soon made their appearance; but one, more
especially than the rest, excited no slight degree of distress and
alarm. His antics proved a continual source of annoyance to the rest of
the company. He singed Will the Arrowsmith's beard, poured a whole
flagon of hot liquor in the wide hosen of Hobbe Adamson; but the enactor
of St George in a more especial manner attracted his notice; he crept
between his legs, and bore him right into the middle of the pig-sty,
before he could be stayed; from whence the heroic champion of England
issued, sorely shent with the admixtures and impurities of the place.
This termagant was a little broad-set figure wearing a mask, intended as
a representation of his Satanic majesty, adorned with a huge pair of
horns. From it hung a black cloak or shirt, out of which protruded a
goodly and substantial tail. No one could discover this ruthless
disturber of their sports. Every attempt was unavailing; he shot through
their fingers as though they had been greased, and a loud and
contumelious laugh was the only reward of their exertions.
In the end, a shrewd conjecture went abroad that he was none other than
some malicious imp of darkness let loose upon their frolics, to disquiet
and perplex their commemoration of the Blessed Nativity. Yet was it an
unusual occurrence upon Yule night, when these disturbers were supposed
to be prevented from walking the earth, being confined for a space to
their own kingdom. But the desperate character of their lord, who was
thought to fear neither man nor devil, might in some sort account for
this unwelcome intrusion.
The guests grew cautious. Whispers and unquiet looks went round, while
the little devil would ever and anon frisk about, to the great detriment
and dismay of his companions.
Their lord's presence was anxiously looked for. The ruddy glow of their
mirth had become dim. Sir Ralph, they hoped, would either unmask this
mischievous intruder, or eject him from the premises; he having the
credit of being able to master aught in the shape of either mortal or
immortal intelligences.
At length he came, clad in his usual suit of black velvet. A swarthy and
ill-favoured wight he was, with a beard, as the story goes, that would
have swept off the prickly gorse-bush in its progress. He was received
with a great show of humility, and all made their best obeisance. But
this deputy, representative, or vicegerent of "Old Hornie," he stood
erect, among the obsequious guests, in a posture not at all either
respectful or becoming.
"Now, knaves, to your sport. Ye be as doleful as a pack of pedlars with
a full basket after the fair. I'll make ye play, and be merry too; or,
e' lady, ye shall taste of the mittens. Dan, give these grim-faced
varlets a twinge of the gloves there just to make 'em laugh."
His tyrannous and overbearing temper would even make them merry by
compulsion. But the terrified hearers did not manifest that intense
feeling of gratification which this threat was intended to produce. Each
looked on the face of his neighbour, hoping to find there some
indication of the felicity which his own had failed to exhibit.
The countenance of their chief grew more dark and portentous. Just as
they were expecting the full burst of his fury, up trotted the merry
imp, and irreverently crept behind Sir Ralph. Before their almost
incredulous eyes did he lay hold on the tail of the knight's cloak, and
twisting it round his arm, by a sudden jerk he brought this dignified
personage backwards upon the floor. The oaken beams trembled at this
unlooked-for invasion of their repose. Deep, deadly, and abominable
curses, rang through the hall. Livid and ghastly by turns, the knight's
features wore that ludicrous expression of rage and astonishment more
easy to conceive than to portray. Volleys of oaths and inarticulate
sounds burst out from his wrath, almost too big for utterance. When
reinstated in that posture which is the distinctive characteristic of
man, he did not attempt to administer his vindictive retribution by
proxy. Laying hold on a tough cudgel, he gave it one ominous swing,
describing an arc of sufficient magnitude to have laid an army
prostrate. He then pursued the luckless emissary of the Evil One,
roaring and foaming with this unusual exertion. There was now no lack of
activity. A hawk among the chickens, or a fox in a farm-yard, were
nothing to it. Sometimes was seen the doughty Sir Ralph driving the
whole herd before him like a flock of sheep; but the original cause of
the mischief generally contrived to mingle with the rabble rout, who in
vain attempted to rid themselves of his company. The knight was not
over-nice in the just administration of his discipline. Often, when he
thought himself near enough for its accomplishment, he aimed a terrific
blow, but shot wide of the mark, bringing down the innocent and
unoffending victims, who strewed the floor like swaths behind the mower.
Whenever a lucky individual could disentangle himself from his comrades,
he darted through the door, and in spite of the storm and pitchy
darkness without, thought himself too happy in escaping with a few holes
in his skin. Yet he of the horns and tail, by some chance or another,
always passed unhurt; a hideous laugh accompanying the adroit
contrivances by which he eluded the cudgel.
The hall was now but scantily supplied with guests; the runaways and
wounded having diminished the numbers to some half-score. A parley was
now sounded by the victorious and pursuing enemy.
"Hold, ye lubberly rascals! Ye scum--ye recrement--why do ye run?" said
the knight, puffing with great vigour. "I say, why run ye!" brandishing
his club. "Bring hither that limb of Satan, and ye shall depart every
one to his home. Lay hold of him, I tell ye, and begone."
But these terms of capitulation were by no means so easy to accept as
the proposer imagined.
The first mover of the mischief had gotten himself perched on a
projecting ledge by the gallery, from whence they were either unable or
unwilling to dislodge him.
"How!" said the knight. "Ye are afraid, cowards, I trow. Now will I have
at thee, for once. I'll spoil thy capering!" This threat was followed by
a blow aimed at the devoted representative from the infernal court; but
it failed to dismount him, for he merely shrunk aside, and it was
rendered harmless. Another and a more contumelious laugh announced this
failure. Even the Black Knight grew alarmed. The being was surely
invulnerable. He stayed a moment ere he repeated the attack, when, to
his unspeakable horror and astonishment, there issued a thin squeaking
voice from underneath the disguise.
"The heriot, Sir Ralph--the heriot! We'll have a heriot at Easter!"
Had a thunderbolt fallen at his feet, the knight could not have been
more terrified. He let the weapon fall. His hands dropped powerless at
his side. His countenance was like the darkly rolling sea, strangely
tossed by some invisible tempest. The cause of this sudden and
unexpected termination of the assault we will now proceed briefly to
unfold.
The morning of this day, being the eve of the Blessed Nativity, had been
employed by the Black Knight in the laudable occupation of visiting a
poor widow; who, though recently bereaved of her husband, had not
rendered the customary heriot. Unfortunately, the only valuable she
possessed was a cow, the produce of which formed the chief support of
the family; four young children, and a boy of about fourteen, whose
brains were generally supposed more or less oddly constructed than those
of his neighbours, depended on this supply for their daily support.
Cold, bitter cold, was the season, and it had set in with more than
common severity. Day after day the payment was delayed. Every morning
the widow and her son fondled the poor beast, as though it were the
last; but another morning and evening succeeded. Supper could not supply
the place of breakfast, nor breakfast contend against the wants of
supper; and how could the already half-famished ones be sustained, when
their only resource should be taken away?
"Go down upon your knees, Will, and thank God for another morning's
meal. It is the eve of our blessed Lord's incarnation, and I think He
will not leave us to perish in this world, who has made such a bountiful
provision for our well-being in the next. The knight has not sent for
the heriot, and I think that He alone who succours the widow and the
fatherless can have inclined his heart to mercy."
Scarcely were the thanksgivings finished, when they were alarmed by the
rapid approach of their persecutor. The door flew open, and in
thundering accents the Black Knight himself came to make his demand.
"I'll have thee to the dungeon, hag, for lack of service. How comes it
to pass the heriot is not paid!"
The widow made no reply. Her heart was full.
"See to it," continued the pitiless churl; "for if thy quittance be not
forthcoming, and that in haste, I'll turn thee and thy brats into the
moor-dikes, where ye may live upon turf and ditch-water if it so please
ye."
"Oh, ha' pity!" But the widow's prayer was vain. The Black Knight was
never known to hearken either to pity or persuasion.
"Thy cow--thy cow! This night let it be rendered. Sir Ralph Assheton
never uttered a threat that fell to the ground."
"Mother," said the boy, "is this Sir Ralph, our liege lord?"
"Ay, fool," angrily replied the knight. "And what may thy wits gather by
the asking?"
"And will _he_ ever die, mother?"
"Hush, Willy," said the terrified woman.
"Nay," returned the leering half-wit, "I was but a-thinking, that if he
does, may be _his_ master too will want a heriot."
"And what may be the name of my master?" said Sir Ralph, with a furious
oath.
"The devil," replied the boy, with apparent unconcern.
"Ay,--and what will they give him, dost think?"
"_Thee!_"
Whether the peculiar expression of the lad's face, or the fearless
indifference of his address, so unusual to that of the crouching slaves
he generally met with, contributed to the result, we know not; but,
instead of correcting the boy for his audacity, he hastily departed,
finally repeating his threat of punishment in case of disobedience.
When Sir Ralph got home, his ill-humour vented itself with more severity
than usual. On joining the sports, he was at the first somewhat
startled, on perceiving a representation of the personage which the
morning's conversation had by no means prepared him to recognise either
with admiration or respect. Still, as it was nothing out of the common
usage, he took no apparent notice, farther than by remarking the general
gloom that prevailed, contrary to the usual course of these festivities.
Then came the unlooked-for aggression upon his person, provoking his
already irritated feelings into vehement action. But, when the last
unfortunate blow had failed in its purpose, appearing to the furious
knight to have been warded off by a charm, a sudden misgiving came
across him, which, with the speech of this supposed imp of darkness, so
strangely alluding to his adventure with the boy, wrought powerfully
upon his now excited imagination, so that he stood aghast, unable to
grapple with its terrors. He hastily departed from the hall, leaving the
enemy in undisputed possession of the field.
What occurred subsequently we are not told, save that on the following
morning the widow's heriot was sent back, with an ungracious message
from the knight, showing his unwillingness to restore what terror only
had wrung from him.
The person who adventured this dangerous personification of the Evil One
was never known. Whether some bold and benevolent individual,
interposing on behalf of the fatherless and famishing little ones, or
some being of a less substantial nature,--whether one of those immortal
intelligences of a middle order between earth and heaven, who at that
time were supposed to take pleasure in tormenting the vicious and
unworthy,--is more than our limited capacities can disclose.
It is said that on Easter Monday following the Black Knight died; and
though probably it had no connection with the circumstances we have
related, yet was his decease a sufficiently strange event in the
mysterious chapter of coincidences to warrant this memorial.