William Harrison Ainsworth

The Lancashire Witches

Warsaw 2022

Contents

INTRODUCTION. THE LAST ABBOT OF WHALLEY

I. THE BEACON ON PENDLE HILL

II. THE ERUPTION

III. WHALLEY ABBEY

IV. THE MALEDICTION

V. THE MIDNIGHT MASS

VI. TETER ET FORTIS CARCER

VII. THE ABBEY MILL

VIII. THE EXECUTIONER

IX. WISWALL HALL

X. THE HOLEHOUSES

BOOK I. ALIZON DEVICE

I. THE MAY QUEEN

II. THE BLACK CAT AND THE WHITE DOVE

III. THE ASSHETONS

IV. ALICE NUTTER

V. MOTHER CHATTOX

VI. THE ORDEAL BY SWIMMING

VII. THE RUINED CONVENTUAL CHURCH

VIII. THE REVELATION

IX. THE TWO PORTRAITS IN THE BANQUETING- HALL

X. THE NOCTURNAL MEETING

BOOK II. PENDLE FOREST

I. FLINT

II. READ HALL

III. THE BOGGART’S GLEN

IV. THE REEVE OF THE FOREST

V. BESS’S O’ TH’ BOOTH

VI. THE TEMPTATION

VII. THE PERAMBULATION OF THE BOUNDARIES

VIII. ROUGH LEE

IX. HOW ROUGH LEE WAS DEFENDED BY NICHOLAS

X. ROGER NOWELL AND HIS DOUBLE

XI. MOTHER DEMDIKE

XII. THE MYSTERIES OF MALKIN TOWER

XIII. THE TWO FAMILIARS

XIV. HOW ROUGH LEE WAS AGAIN BESIEGED

XV. THE PHANTOM MONK

XVI. ONE O’CLOCK!

XVII. HOW THE BEACON FIRE WAS EXTINGUISHED

BOOK III. HOGHTON TOWER

I. DOWNHAM MANOR-HOUSE

II. THE PENITENT’S RETREAT

III. MIDDLETON HALL

IV. THE GORGE OF CLIVIGER

V. THE END OF MALKIN TOWER

VI. HOGHTON TOWER

VII. THE ROYAL DECLARATION CONCERNING LAWFUL SPORTS ON THE SUNDAY

VIII. HOW KING JAMES HUNTED THE HART AND THE WILD-BOAR IN HOGHTON PARK

IX. THE BANQUET

X. EVENING ENTERTAINMENTS

XI. FATALITY

XII. THE LAST HOUR

XIII. THE MASQUE OF DEATH

XIV. “ONE GRAVE”

XV. LANCASTER CASTLE

INTRODUCTION. THE LAST ABBOT OF WHALLEY

I. THE BEACON ON PENDLE HILL

There were eight watchers by the beacon on Pendle Hill in Lancashire. Two were stationed on either side of the north-eastern extremity of the mountain. One looked over the castled heights of Clithero; the woody eminences of Bowland; the bleak ridges of Thornley; the broad moors of Bleasdale; the Trough of Bolland, and Wolf Crag; and even brought within his ken the black fells overhanging Lancaster. The other tracked the stream called Pendle Water, almost from its source amid the neighbouring hills, and followed its windings through the leafless forest, until it united its waters to those of the Calder, and swept on in swifter and clearer current, to wash the base of Whalley Abbey. But the watcher’s survey did not stop here. Noting the sharp spire of Burnley Church, relieved against the rounded masses of timber constituting Townley Park; as well as the entrance of the gloomy mountain gorge, known as the Grange of Cliviger; his far-reaching gaze passed over Todmorden, and settled upon the distant summits of Blackstone Edge.

Dreary was the prospect on all sides. Black moor, bleak fell, straggling forest, intersected with sullen streams as black as ink, with here and there a small tarn, or moss-pool, with waters of the same hue–these constituted the chief features of the scene. The whole district was barren and thinly-populated. Of towns, only Clithero, Colne, and Burnley–the latter little more than a village–were in view. In the valleys there were a few hamlets and scattered cottages, and on the uplands an occasional “booth,” as the hut of the herdsman was termed; but of more important mansions there were only six, as Merley, Twistleton, Alcancoats, Saxfeld, Ightenhill, and Gawthorpe. The “vaccaries” for the cattle, of which the herdsmen had the care, and the “lawnds,” or parks within the forest, appertaining to some of the halls before mentioned, offered the only evidences of cultivation. All else was heathy waste, morass, and wood.

Still, in the eye of the sportsman–and the Lancashire gentlemen of the sixteenth century were keen lovers of sport–the country had a strong interest. Pendle forest abounded with game. Grouse, plover, and bittern were found upon its moors; woodcock and snipe on its marshes; mallard, teal, and widgeon upon its pools. In its chases ranged herds of deer, protected by the terrible forest-laws, then in full force: and the hardier huntsman might follow the wolf to his lair in the mountains; might spear the boar in the oaken glades, or the otter on the river’s brink; might unearth the badger or the fox, or smite the fierce cat-a-mountain with a quarrel from his bow. A nobler victim sometimes, also, awaited him in the shape of a wild mountain bull, a denizen of the forest, and a remnant of the herds that had once browsed upon the hills, but which had almost all been captured, and removed to stock the park of the Abbot of Whalley. The streams and pools were full of fish: the stately heron frequented the meres; and on the craggy heights built the kite, the falcon, and the kingly eagle.

There were eight watchers by the beacon. Two stood apart from the others, looking to the right and the left of the hill. Both were armed with swords and arquebuses, and wore steel caps and coats of buff. Their sleeves were embroidered with the five wounds of Christ, encircling the name of Jesus–the badge of the Pilgrimage of Grace. Between them, on the verge of the mountain, was planted a great banner, displaying a silver cross, the chalice, and the Host, together with an ecclesiastical figure, but wearing a helmet instead of a mitre, and holding a sword in place of a crosier, with the unoccupied hand pointing to the two towers of a monastic structure, as if to intimate that he was armed for its defence. This figure, as the device beneath it showed, represented John Paslew, Abbot of Whalley, or, as he styled himself in his military capacity, Earl of Poverty.

There were eight watchers by the beacon. Two have been described. Of the other six, two were stout herdsmen carrying crooks, and holding a couple of mules, and a richly-caparisoned war-horse by the bridle. Near them stood a broad-shouldered, athletic young man, with the fresh complexion, curling brown hair, light eyes, and open Saxon countenance, best seen in his native county of Lancaster. He wore a Lincoln-green tunic, with a bugle suspended from the shoulder by a silken cord; and a silver plate engraved with the three luces, the ensign of the Abbot of Whalley, hung by a chain from his neck. A hunting knife was in his girdle, and an eagle’s plume in his cap, and he leaned upon the but-end of a crossbow, regarding three persons who stood together by a peat fire, on the sheltered side of the beacon. Two of these were elderly men, in the white gowns and scapularies of Cistertian monks, doubtless from Whalley, as the abbey belonged to that order. The third and last, and evidently their superior, was a tall man in a riding dress, wrapped in a long mantle of black velvet, trimmed with minever, and displaying the same badges as those upon the sleeves of the sentinels, only wrought in richer material. His features were strongly marked and stern, and bore traces of age; but his eye was bright, and his carriage erect and dignified.

The beacon, near which the watchers stood, consisted of a vast pile of logs of timber, heaped upon a circular range of stones, with openings to admit air, and having the centre filled with fagots, and other quickly combustible materials. Torches were placed near at hand, so that the pile could be lighted on the instant.

The watch was held one afternoon at the latter end of November, 1536. In that year had arisen a formidable rebellion in the northern counties of England, the members of which, while engaging to respect the person of the king, Henry VIII., and his issue, bound themselves by solemn oath to accomplish the restoration of Papal supremacy throughout the realm, and the restitution of religious establishments and lands to their late ejected possessors. They bound themselves, also, to punish the enemies of the Romish church, and suppress heresy. From its religious character the insurrection assumed the name of the Pilgrimage of Grace, and numbered among its adherents all who had not embraced the new doctrines in Yorkshire and Lancashire. That such an outbreak should occur on the suppression of the monasteries, was not marvellous. The desecration and spoliation of so many sacred structures–the destruction of shrines and images long regarded with veneration–the ejection of so many ecclesiastics, renowned for hospitality and revered for piety and learning–the violence and rapacity of the commissioners appointed by the Vicar-General Cromwell to carry out these severe measures–all these outrages were regarded by the people with abhorrence, and disposed them to aid the sufferers in resistance. As yet the wealthier monasteries in the north had been spared, and it was to preserve them from the greedy hands of the visiters, Doctors Lee and Layton, that the insurrection had been undertaken. A simultaneous rising took place in Lincolnshire, headed by Makarel, Abbot of Barlings, but it was speedily quelled by the vigour and skill of the Duke of Suffolk, and its leader executed. But the northern outbreak was better organized, and of greater force, for it now numbered thirty thousand men, under the command of a skilful and resolute leader named Robert Aske.

As may be supposed, the priesthood were main movers in a revolt having their especial benefit for its aim; and many of them, following the example of the Abbot of Barlings, clothed themselves in steel instead of woollen garments, and girded on the sword and the breastplate for the redress of their grievances and the maintenance of their rights. Amongst these were the Abbots of Jervaux, Furness, Fountains, Rivaulx, and Salley, and, lastly, the Abbot of Whalley, before mentioned; a fiery and energetic prelate, who had ever been constant and determined in his opposition to the aggressive measures of the king. Such was the Pilgrimage of Grace, such its design, and such its supporters.

Several large towns had already fallen into the hands of the insurgents. York, Hull, and Pontefract had yielded; Skipton Castle was besieged, and defended by the Earl of Cumberland; and battle was offered to the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Shrewsbury, who headed the king’s forces at Doncaster. But the object of the Royalist leaders was to temporise, and an armistice was offered to the rebels and accepted. Terms were next proposed and debated.

During the continuance of this armistice all hostilities ceased; but beacons were reared upon the mountains, and their fires were to be taken as a new summons to arms. This signal the eight watchers expected.

Though late in November, the day had been unusually fine, and, in consequence, the whole hilly ranges around were clearly discernible, but now the shades of evening were fast drawing on.

“Night is approaching,” cried the tall man in the velvet mantle, impatiently; “and still the signal comes not. Wherefore this delay? Can Norfolk have accepted our conditions? Impossible. The last messenger from our camp at Scawsby Lees brought word that the duke’s sole terms would be the king’s pardon to the whole insurgent army, provided they at once dispersed–except ten persons, six named and four unnamed.”

“And were you amongst those named, lord abbot?” demanded one of the monks.

“John Paslew, Abbot of Whalley, it was said, headed the list,” replied the other, with a bitter smile. “Next came William Trafford, Abbot of Salley. Next Adam Sudbury, Abbot of Jervaux. Then our leader, Robert Aske. Then John Eastgate, Monk of Whalley–”

“How, lord abbot!” exclaimed the monk. “Was my name mentioned?”

“It was,” rejoined the abbot. “And that of William Haydocke, also Monk of Whalley, closed the list.”

“The unrelenting tyrant!” muttered the other monk. “But these terms could not be accepted?”

“Assuredly not,” replied Paslew; “they were rejected with scorn. But the negotiations were continued by Sir Ralph Ellerker and Sir Robert Bowas, who were to claim on our part a free pardon for all; the establishment of a Parliament and courts of justice at York; the restoration of the Princess Mary to the succession; the Pope to his jurisdiction; and our brethren to their houses. But such conditions will never be granted. With my consent no armistice should have been agreed to. We are sure to lose by the delay. But I was overruled by the Archbishop of York and the Lord Darcy. Their voices prevailed against the Abbot of Whalley–or, if it please you, the Earl of Poverty.”

“It is the assumption of that derisive title which has drawn upon you the full force of the king’s resentment, lord abbot,” observed Father Eastgate.

“It may be,” replied the abbot. “I took it in mockery of Cromwell and the ecclesiastical commissioners, and I rejoice that they have felt the sting. The Abbot of Barlings called himself Captain Cobbler, because, as he affirmed, the state wanted mending like old shoon. And is not my title equally well chosen? Is not the Church smitten with poverty? Have not ten thousand of our brethren been driven from their homes to beg or to starve? Have not the houseless poor, whom we fed at our gates, and lodged within our wards, gone away hungry and without rest? Have not the sick, whom we would have relieved, died untended by the hedge-side? I am the head of the poor in Lancashire, the redresser of their grievances, and therefore I style myself Earl of Poverty. Have I not done well?”

“You have, lord abbot,” replied Father Eastgate.

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