Echoes of old Lancashire

In Roman times as a prime requisite a water mill, it is said, was erected upon the rocky channel of the Medlock below the station and town, on a site which in later times was called Knot Mill. If this be correct, the situation must have been found inconvenient, for the town mill next heard of was situated on the Irk. The right of compelling their vassals to grind at the “lord’s mill,” and to pay such tolls as he might fix, was a valuable privilege to the lord of the manor of a busy and thriving place. When Randle, Earl of Chester, granted the first charter to Salford in 1230, he said in it: – “No burgess ought to bake bread to be sold save at my oven by reasonable custom. If I shall have a mill there the burgesses shall grind at my mill to the twentieth measure, and if I shall not have a mill there they may grind where they will.” When Thomas Grelle, Baron of Manchester, in 1301, granted the charter, by which for many succeeding centuries Manchester was governed, he was careful to remind his burgesses that they should have their corn ground at his mill and their bread baked at his oven, “paying to the aforesaid mill and aforesaid oven the customs as they ought and are wont to do.”

The Grammar School was founded in 1515 by Hugh Oldham, Bishop of Exeter, Hugh Bexwyke, Ralph Hulme, and Joan Bexwyke, and in what respective proportion the institution is due to these worthies may be a matter of doubt. For the endowment of the school they purchased, for a “valuable consideration,” the amount of which is not stated, the lands, rents, and services of the Manchester Corn Mills and all their tolls. Lord La Warr, in thus parting with the ancient soke mills of his manor, merely retained a chief rent, which was then fixed at £9 13s. 4d. The transfer of the mill from the wardens of the college to an independent body of feoffees is set forth in a deed which was executed in 1525, and in which Hugh Bexwyke, clerk, and Joan Bexwyke, widow, state that Thomas West, Knt., Lord La Warr, “did give grant and confirm to them and to Ralph Hulme, deceased, all his lands and tenements, rents, reversions, and services of his water corn mills, called Manchester Mills, situate and being in the town of Manchester, upon the water or rivulet of Irke, running and flowing from and in the town of Manchester and the precincts of the same as far as the water or river of Irwell, flowing between the town of Manchester and the town of Salford, and also of all the tolls soken of the aforesaid mills of all the tenants of the said Lord La Warr in Manchester, and of his sojourners of the same, and of all other residents there.” Further, the same Thomas, Lord La Warr did give, grant, and confirm to them his “fulling mill there, called a walke millne, situate, standing, and being upon the said rivulet or water called Irke; and also his close of land, with its appurtenances, called Walker’s Croft; and also Thomas, Lord La Warr in like manner did give, grant, and confirm to them the aforesaid water or rivulet of Irke, and its free fishery, from a place called Asshelle Lawne as far as the said water or river called Irwell, and also all his lands and tenements adjacent and adjoining, without the several closes and burgage on each side of the same water or rivulet called Irke, flowing in the said town of Manchester, from the place called Asshelle Lawne, into the said river of Irwell.” And farther, the same Thomas, Lord La Warr did give, grant, and confirm to them “full power and authority, and right of making, setting-up, fixing, and attaching mills or messuages, and so many and such weirs, floodgates, and fastenings, to both sides of the same water or rivulet, called Irke, and upon, through, and across the same water, in any places whatsoever, from the said place, called Asshelle Lawne, unto the said water or river of Irwell,” as they or their heirs and assigns should think to be expedient or beneficial for their greater profit or advantage. Lord La Warr also conveyed to the purchasers by the same deed some fulling mills in Ancoats, where there are various evidences of the early practice of textile industries. The value of the Manchester Mills when they were first bought as an endowment for the school was estimated at £47 10s. per annum. Lord La Warr promised that no more mills should be erected within or about the manor of Manchester, and thus ensured to the schools the monopoly of the grinding of the corn and malt for the town. The restraint was probably felt to be injurious at a comparatively early period. In 1556 those who evaded this toll were threatened with amercement, and apparently continued to be undeterred by such threats, for in 1561 it was ordered that “in future” they should forfeit twenty shillings. In 1592 the feoffees had to guard their monopoly against the attack of Anthony Travis, who erected “a horse mill within the town.” The Duchy Court of Lancaster upheld the rights of the monopolists, and actually prohibited the use within the town of even a hand mill or quern mill for the grinding of either corn or malt. If, however, the grain lay at the mill for twenty-four hours unground the owner might take it away to some other mill. In 1608 a horse mill was ordered to be destroyed. During the Commonwealth the people of the town had freedom in this matter, and they used it so that the revenues of the school began to diminish very rapidly. An order of Parliament was obtained in 1647, and the mills were then leased to Mr. John Hartley for £130 per annum. The new lessee established his right against two hardy individuals who had set up a common brewhouse in the college, which they contended owed no suit or service to the School Mills. The decision went against them. In 1701 some persons who had erected mills in Salford were prosecuted for having customers who ought to have ground at the Manchester Mills. They were ordered not to receive any corn or malt for grinding from any of the inhabitants of Manchester. In 1728 some persons who had erected a brewhouse in Salford and sold ale and beer to the burgesses of Manchester were required “under pain of forfeiting £100 to have all their corn and malt that should be spent ground in their houses at the School Mills.” The farmers of the mill at this time made an attempt to obtain a judgment that should include oats, which had not been ground at the School Mills for two generations. The Judges, however, insisted that an issue ought to be directed for trying the custom at common law. This the farmers did not think expedient, and so they dropped the suit and paid the costs. In 1732 they were successful in restraining Sir Oswald Mosley from using a malt mill which he had erected in Hanging Ditch. It will easily be understood that the tenants of the mills were exceedingly unpopular with the inhabitants. Witty John Byrom, in an epigram which became proverbial, thus lampooned the two of them, who from their spare forms had been nicknamed Skin and Bone: —

“Bone and Skin, two millers thin,Would starve the town, or near it;But be it known to Skin and BoneThat Flesh and Blood won’t bear it.”

This was written in 1737, and there was something prophetic in the quatrain, for in 1757, when the pressure of hard times was severely felt, there was a fatal riot arising out of the popular feeling against the monopoly. On June 6th the provisions brought by the farmers to the market were seized by the mob, and a considerable quantity was destroyed. The approach of harvest would, it was hoped, bring something of peace and plenty, but when this anticipation proved delusive, the patience of the people was exhausted, and a large assembly from Saddleworth, Oldham, and other parts, having destroyed a corn mill at Clayton, advanced to Shudehill. They were met, however, by Mr. James Bayley, who was then high sheriff of the county, and who had with him a party of soldiers and a large number of the well-to-do inhabitants on horseback. The rioters, confident that the soldiers would not fire upon them, proceeded to various acts of violence. The goods in the market were seized, the troops were pelted with stones, and one of the soldiers was killed on the spot. This was more than the military were likely to endure, and on receiving orders they fired, and in the ensuing struggle four of the rioters were killed and fifteen wounded. This unhappy occurrence probably had its share in the formation of that public opinion which in 1758 led to the passing of an Act of Parliament for the regulation of the mills. This Act stated that in consequence of the increase of population, it was desirable to free the inhabitants of Manchester from their obligation to grind at the School Mills any corn or grain whatsoever, malt only excepted. The exception was made on the ground that the mills were adequate to the task of grinding all the malt needed. The charge was fixed at “one shilling and no more for the grinding of one load containing six bushels or twenty-four pecks of malt of Winchester measure,” instead of the twenty-fourth part which had previously been taken. The monopoly in this modified form continued to our day.

Formerly the privilege was valuable, and though the profit was devoted to a good cause, it is instructive to note the economical effect. The restriction was always irksome to the brewers, and it is observable that all modern local breweries have been erected just outside the boundaries of the township of Manchester, as, for instance, in Moss Side, Hulme, Cheetham, Ardwick, and Gorton. No new breweries have been built for many years in Manchester proper.

It will be seen from this rapid retrospect that the Manchester Grammar School Mills have a written history extending from the year 1301, and a tradition that carries them generations further back.

The Rising of 1715

England, it has been epigramatically said, is governed by reactions. There is more truth in the remark than is usually found in smart sayings. There is an ebb and flow in the political tide, the waves which thunder against the bulwarks and threaten to overwhelm the peaceful town beyond them, fall calmly back again to their sandy bed. An example of this phenomenon we have in the intense Jacobitism of Lancashire at the commencement of the last century. Lancashire was not without gallant cavaliers who charged for the “King and the Laws” behind the fiery Rupert, but the county at large swore by the Parliament and struck some hard blows at the “Lord’s anointed.” The memorable “petition for peace” was drawn up by a Manchester man, and the first victims of that civil war which was to drench England with blood, were inhabitants of that town. It was natural then to expect that the pendulum should swing right to the other extreme of its line, and that the descendants of those who had pulled down the monarch from his throne, and consigned him to the traitor’s block, should be sticklers for the right divine of kings to govern wrong, should risk fortune, life, and limb, to replace on the throne of his ancestors the double dealing James and his unfortunate descendants. There were some special causes which strengthened the hands of the Jacobites in this quarter. The Roman Catholics were distinguishable by their steady, unalterable loyalty to the House of Stuart, and the persecution to which they were subjected from the reign of Elizabeth downwards, only served to strengthen their attachment. The jealousy of the Low Church men, and the bitter antagonism of the Puritans was sufficient to defeat any amelioration of their condition which the Sovereign might desire, but in their sufferings they recollected that both Charles and his brother had been desirous of extending to them toleration for the exercise of their religion. The Dissenters, however, chose to endure the severities of the Test Act themselves, rather than do anything to hinder the harrying and persecution of the Romanists. The Roman Catholics had natural friends in the High Church men, who held in all fulness the doctrine of the divine right, and consequently the unlawfulness of the tenure by which King William and George I. held the throne. The clearness and distinctness with which this opinion was formulated must be considered if we would understand the motive power of the Jacobite rebellions.

According to them the King was God’s representative on earth, and unconditional obedience was due to all his commands. He might be a drunken, licentious scoundrel, a perjured villain, a red-handed murderer, a raving madman, but nothing on earth could invalidate his inborn kingly right, and whoso disobeyed him, was false to God and to his country. This opinion was supported by a second theory as to the patriarchal origin of monarchy. Adam and Abraham exercised regal power, therefore it was “unnatural for the people to govern or choose governors.” Charles II. is but an odd looking patriarch, although like the King of Yvetot, his subjects had a hundred reasons for calling him their father. However, as the learned O’Flaherty in his “Ogygia” tells us that the Stuarts were descended in a direct line from Adam (which is probable), and that it was the 124th generation that ascended the Scottish throne, Charles might perhaps claim his monarchical privileges as heir general of the Father of Mankind.

This leading doctrine of the High Church party was closely wedded to a sentiment of bitter dislike of the Protestant Dissenters. The impeachment of Sacheverell, the High Church clergyman, for his denunciation of the revolution of 1688, and of the principles which had brought it about, roused to fever heat all the evil passions of the time. His punishment (three years’ prohibition from preaching) was so slight as to be almost a triumph. In 1714 a bill for the repression of Schism was only prevented from coming in force by the death of Queen Anne.

The accession of George I. was a tremendous blow for the Jacobites, and in Manchester they went mad with rage. The Pretender’s birthday, Friday, the 10th of June, was fittingly selected as the time for wreaking their revenge on the Dissenters. On that day various places in England were disgraced by riotous mobs drinking health to King James, and breathing fiery vows of vengeance against the Presbyterians. The Manchester mob was second to none. The town was in a state of anarchy for days, and King Mob had it all his own way. With beating of drums they enlivened their marches, and with fiery potations inflamed their loyalty and piety. Woe to the luckless Nonconformist who came in their way! The riot was not unlike a rebellion. They had their recognised leaders: a colonel, whose name forgetful history has nowhere recorded; and a captain, Thomas Syddal, a sturdy blacksmith, the end of whose brawling life was not far off. They had the tacit encouragement of Jacobite magistrates, who left the rabble masters of the situation. The only Dissenting meeting-house in Manchester was in Acresfield, and is now known as Cross Street Unitarian Chapel. Headed by the valiant Syddal, these friends of the ancient constitution in Church and State attacked the humble meeting-house, and wrecked it completely. The bare walls were all the vestiges they left of the lowly house of prayer. So fine a performance did the mob consider it, that with infinite gusto they repeated it at Monton, Blackley, and in fact all the meeting-houses that fell in their way as they marched toward Yorkshire. Things were assuming so serious an aspect, and the local authorities were so unable or unwilling to check it effectually, that the Government had to interpose with a military force. It was not until there had been a fortnight’s carnival of riot and outrage that the Earl of Stair dispersed the Manchester band, and took prisoners its leading men. Occasional outbreaks in various places continued until the end of July. The House of Commons petitioned the King for the vigorous enforcement of the law, the punishment of neglectful justices, and the compensation from the public funds of the sufferers. The destruction of religious meeting-houses was declared to be felony without benefit of clergy, and, £1,500 was granted to the Protestant Dissenters of Manchester for the repair of their temple.

Syddal and his colonel were tried at Lancaster Assizes in August. In pursuance of their sentence they both decorated the pillory on the market day, whilst some looked on with scorn and more with sympathy. They were tenderly treated, for no man was allowed to fling anything at them; thus they escaped the worst part of the ordeal. From the pillory back to jail, and there they lay until their prison gates were opened by the army of James III. The High Church faction were a loose-living, hard-drinking race, fonder of confusing their brains by drinking “Confusion to the Elector of Hanover” than of striking home an honest blow for the King over the water. Their conspiracies were of the pot-house order, concocted over a flowing punch-bowl. They exaggerated probably even to themselves the strength of their party, and when the Scottish Jacobites (with whom the struggle was chiefly for the ancient integrity and independence of their kingdom) determined to raise the standard of the Pretender, they had received assurances that twenty thousand Lancashire men would join their forces. On the faith of these promises the Fiery Cross was sent flaming round the Highlands, and the rebellion, which, if confined to Scotland, would have had strong chances of success, was to be a general one. The Earl of Derwentwater and the Roman Catholic gentlemen of Northumberland effected a junction with the two Scottish armies at Kelso. This is not the place to chronicle the movements of the rebel army, their want of purpose, or their internal dissensions. The incompetence of their leader, a country squire turned into a general, whose jealousy of the military reputation of grim old Brigadier Mackintosh led him to reject wise counsel, brought on the fatal catastrophe which awaited them. At Langholm they were met by Lord Widdrington, who assured them of Lancashire aid and sympathy, and this determined at last their course of action. They marched into England, but not without misgivings on the part of the leaders, and many desertions on the part of the Highlanders, who were bitterly opposed to leaving Scotland. They were joined by very few men in their English march, the leaders were thoroughly dispirited, and Mackintosh, tough old soldier as he was, looked gloomily at the cheerless prospect before them.

At Kendal their cheerfulness was somewhat restored by the appearance of Lord Widdrington’s brother with news that Lancashire was ready to rise, that James III. had that day been proclaimed King at Manchester, where the townspeople had undertaken to furnish a troop of fifty men at their own expense, and where many volunteers might be expected. Instead of marching on Newcastle, where the Whig general was hurrying to meet them, they determined to advance to Lancaster. The loyalists were completely surprised at this descent into Lancashire. Sir Henry Houghton was at the head of a body of militia numbering 600. He could not obtain the aid of some dragoons who were stationed in Preston, but refused to stir without orders from London, and he was forced to retreat on Preston, and the army of King James took peaceful possession of the town with trumpets sounding, and the bare swords of the gentlemen glittering gaily as they rode triumphantly forward. The prisoners in the castle were now released from durance vile, and Syddal – Captain Syddal, as he was styled – attached himself to the regiment of the Earl of Derwentwater. Perhaps he was one of the lucky gentlemen soldiers, who dressed “in their best clothes,” went to drink a dish of tea with the ladies of Lancaster, which fair Jacobites were also “in their best rigging, and had their tea tables richly furnished for to entertain their new suitors.” On the 9th of November they marched to Preston, and were greatly encouraged by learning that the dragoons already mentioned had quitted that town. Less pleasing to them was the conduct of Peploe the curate, who had the courage to read with extra emphasis and unction the prayers for King George and his family. At Preston the rebels remained inactive, seemingly careless of the danger which threatened them. Carpenter was hastening from Newcastle, and a second force was hastening in detachments from the west to be placed under the command of General Wills in the neighbourhood. The plan of the campaign was drawn up by no less a man than Marlborough. On the 8th Wills passed through Manchester and found the town so disaffected that he quartered a thousand men in it, greatly to the disgust of the High Church Tories, some of whom were arrested, whilst others fled, or remained in concealment. Whilst the rebels were “feasting and courting” in Preston, bewitched by the Jacobite charms of what was then the most aristocratic and luxurious of the Lancashire towns, wasting the precious hours in contented lotos-eating, the Whigs were full of activity. Even Dissenting ministers in more than one case marched at the head of their congregations with muskets, scythes mounted on poles, and everything that could be tortured into weapons of offence, and joined the army of General Wills to fight for liberty and the Protestant succession. The Rev. James Woods, of Chowbent, was conspicuous in this way, and for the rest of his life was commonly known as “General” Woods.

Notwithstanding the military genius of Mackintosh who now planned the defence, the rebels after some hard fighting, on the arrival of Carpenter found themselves hopelessly surrounded. They sent Colonel Oxburgh to treat with Wills for a capitulation. “I will not treat with Rebels; they have killed several of the King’s subjects, and they must expect to undergo the same fate.” Such was Wills’ alternative, unconditional surrender, and only one hour in which to decide. This secret negotiation exasperated the Highlanders, who swore they would die fighting, and vowed they would shoot their muddle-headed General Forster if they had the chance. The time for consideration was afterwards extended after a further conference with some of the Scotch officers, who pledged themselves to a cessation from arms. Some six or seven rebels were, notwithstanding, cut to pieces in an attempt to escape. Mackintosh was now a hostage in the hands of the King’s forces, and on the 13th of November the defenders of Preston surrendered at discretion. Many of the rebels escaped, but the number of prisoners was 1,569.

The rebellion begun hastily and ignorantly, carried on through all its course with dissensions, quarrels, and the most lamentable incompetence, had arrived at its ignominious end, so far as England was concerned. Preston was for some time given up to plunder, and the prisoners reserved for retribution, in divers jails of Lancashire and Cheshire. The House of Hanover was never noticeable for mercy, and the retribution was a bloody one.

The landing of James in Scotland did no good at all. Above a thousand of the rebels were transported, some of the leaders amongst them; Forster and the brave old Mackintosh escaped, the one by fraud, the other by force. The number who were executed is not known. The hangman had a triumphant progress through Lancashire. On the eleventh of February, 1716, there came into Manchester a melancholy cavalcade. Bound to one horse by strong cords and surrounded by guards, there rode into the town dashing Tom Syddal, the former leader of the High Church mob in destroying the Dissenting chapels, and with him four others who had been condemned to death. They were hanged, drawn, and quartered, at Knott Mill. Syddal’s head was afterwards fixed on the Market Cross.

The Fool of Lancaster

“Take gifts with a sigh, most men give to be paid.” – J. B. O’Reilly. Rules of the Road.

This story, which is told in “Jack of Dover,” 1604, is instructive if not amusing: – “There was of late (quoth another of the jurie) a ploughman and a butcher dwelling in Lancaster who, for a trifling matter (like two fooles), went to law, and spent much money therein, almost to both their undoings; but at last, being both consented to be tride by a lawyer dwelling in the same town, each of them, in hope of a further favour, bestowed gyftes upon him. The ploughman first of all presented him a cupple of good fat hens, desiring Mr. Lawyer to stand his good friend, and to remember his suite in law, the which he courteously tooke at his handes, saying that what favour he could show him, he should be sure of the uttermost. But now, when the butcher heard of the presenting of these hens by the ploughman, hee went and presently killed a good fatte hogge, and in like manner presented it to the lawyer, as a bribe to draw him to his side; the which he also tooke very courteously, and promised the like to him as he did before to the other. But so it fell out, that shortly after the verdict passed on the butcher’s side; which when the ploughman had notice of, he came to the lawyer, and asked him wherefore his two hens were forgotten. Mary, quoth he, because there came in a fatte hogge and eate them up. Now a vengeance take that hog! quoth the ploughman, that eate both my suit in law and hens together! Well, quoth Jacke of Dover, this in my minde was pretty foolery, but yet the foole of all fooles is not heere found, that I looked for.”