The Lancashire Witches by William Harrison Ainsworth

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"I am fully aware of it, squire," replied Fogg; "and I more than
suspect a worthy friend of mine had a hand in her deliverance and could
tell where to find her if needful. But that is neither here nor there.
The lady is quite innocent, I dare say. Indeed, I am quite sure of it,
since you espouse her cause so warmly. But the world is malicious, and
strange things are reported of her."

"Heed not the world, Fogg," rejoined Nicholas. "The world speaks well of
no man, be his deserts what they may. The world says that I waste my
estate in wine, women, and horseflesh--that I spend time in pleasures
which might be profitably employed--that I neglect my wife, forget my
religious observances, am on horseback when I should be afoot, at the
alehouse when I should be at home, at a marriage when I should be at a
funeral, shooting when I should be keeping my books--in short, it has
not a good word to say for me. And as for thee, Fogg, it says thou art
an idle, good-for-nothing fellow; or, if thou art good for aught, it is
only for something that leads to evil. It says thou drinkest
prodigiously, liest confoundedly, and swearest most profanely; that thou
art ever more ready to go to the alehouse than to church, and that none
of the girls can 'scape thee. Nay, the slanderers even go so far as to
assert thou wouldst not hesitate to say, 'Stand and deliver!' to a true
man on the highway. That is what the world says of thee. But, hang it!
never look chapfallen, man. Let us go to the stables, and then we will
in to breakfast; after which we will proceed to the Ribble, and spear
the old otter."

A fine old manorial residence was Downham, and beautifully situated, as
has been shown, on a woody eminence to the north of Pendle Hill. It was
of great antiquity, and first came into the possession of the Assheton
family in 1558. Considerable additions had been made to it by its
present owner, Nicholas, and the outlay necessarily required, combined
with his lavish expenditure, had contributed to embarrass him. The
stables were large, and full of horses; the kennels on the same scale,
and equally well supplied with hounds; and there was a princely retinue
of servants in the yard--grooms, keepers, falconers, huntsmen, and their
assistants--to say nothing of their fellows within doors. In short, if
it had been your fortune to accompany the squire and his friend round
the premises--if you had walked through the stables and counted the
horses--if you had viewed the kennels and examined the various
hounds--the great Lancashire dogs, tall, shaggy, and heavy, a race now
extinct; the Worcestershire hounds, then also in much repute; the
greyhounds, the harriers, the beagles, the lurchers, and, lastly, the
verminers, or, as we should call them, the terriers,--if you had seen
all these, you would not have wondered that money was scarce with him.
Still further would your surprise at such a consequence have diminished
if you had gone on to the falconry, and seen on the perches the goshawk
and her tercel, the sparrowhawk and her musket, under the care of the
ostringer; and further on the falcon-gentle, the gerfalcon, the lanner,
the merlin, and the hobby, all of which were attended to by the head
falconer. It would have done you good to hear Nicholas inquiring from
his men if they had "set out their birds that morning, and weathered
them;" if they had mummy powder in readiness, then esteemed a sovereign
remedy; if the lures, hoods, jesses, buets, and all other needful
furniture, were in good order; and if the meat were sweet and wholesome.
You might next have followed him to the pens where the fighting cocks
were kept, and where you would have found another source of expense in
the cock-master, Tom Shaw--a knave who not only got high wages from his
master, but understood so well the dieting of his birds that he could
make them win or lose a battle as he thought proper. Here, again,
Nicholas had much to say, and was in raptures with one cock, which he
told Fogg he would back to any amount, utterly unconscious of a
significant look that passed between his friend and the cock-master.

"Look at him," cried the squire; "how proud and erect he stands! His
head is as small as that of a sparrowhawk, his eye large and quick, his
body thick, his leg strong in the beam, and his spurs long, rough, and
sharp. That is the bird for me. I will take him over to the cockpit at
Prescot next week, and match him against any bird Sir John Talbot, or my
cousin Braddyll, can bring."

"And yo'n win, squoire," replied the cock-master; "ey ha' been feedin'
him these five weeks, so he'll be i' rare condition then, and winna fail
yo. Yo may lay what yo loike upon him," he added, with a sly wink at
Fogg.

"You may win the thirty pounds you want," observed the latter, in a low
tone to the squire.

"Or, mayhap, lose it," replied Nicholas. "I shall not risk so much,
unless I get the three hundred from Dick Assheton. I have been unlucky
of late. You beat me constantly at tables now, Fogg, and when I first
knew you this was not wont to be the case. Nay, never make any excuses,
man; you cannot help it. Let us in to breakfast."

With this, he proceeded towards the house, followed by Fogg and a couple
of large Lancashire hounds, and, entering at the back of the premises,
made his way through the scullery into the kitchen. Here there were
plentiful evidences of the hospitality, not to say profusion, reigning
throughout the mansion. An open door showed a larder stocked with all
kinds of provisions, and before the fire joints of meat and poultry were
roasting. Pies were baking in the oven; and over the flames, in the
chimney, was suspended a black pot large enough for a witch's caldron.
The cook was busied in preparing for the gridiron some freshly-caught
trout, intended for the squire's own breakfast; and a kitchen-maid was
toasting oatcakes, of which there was a large supply in the bread-flake
depending from the ceiling.

Casting a look around, and exchanging a few words with the cook,
Nicholas moved on, still followed by Fogg and the hounds, and, tracking
a long stone passage, entered the great hall. Here the same disorder and
irregularity prevailed as in his own character and conduct. All was
litter and confusion. Around the walls were hung breastplates and
buff-coats, morions, shields, and two-handed swords; but they were half
hidden by fishing-nets, fowling-nets, dogs' collars, saddles and
bridles, housings, cross-bows, long-bows, quivers, baldricks, horns,
spears, guns, and every other implement then used in the sports of the
river or the field. The floor was in an equal state of disorder. The
rushes were filled with half-gnawed bones, brought thither by the
hounds; and in one corner, on a mat, was a favourite spaniel and her
whelps. The squire however was, happily, insensible to the condition of
the chamber, and looked around it with an air of satisfaction, as if he
thought it the perfection of comfort.

A table was spread for breakfast, near a window looking out upon the
lawn, and two covers only were laid, for Mistress Nicholas Assheton did
not make her appearance at this early hour. And now was exhibited one of
those strange contradictions of which the squire's character was
composed. Kneeling down by the side of the table, and without noticing
the mocking expression of Fogg's countenance as he followed his example,
Nicholas prayed loudly and fervently for upwards of ten minutes, after
which he arose and gave a shout which proved that his lungs were
unimpaired, and not only roused the whole house, but set all the dogs
barking.

Presently a couple of serving-men answered this lusty summons, and the
table was covered with good and substantial dishes, which he and his
companion attacked with a vigour such as only the most valiant
trencherman can display. Already has it been remarked that a breakfast
at the period in question resembled a modern dinner; and better proof
could not have been afforded of the correctness of the description than
the meal under discussion, which comprised fish, flesh, and fowl,
boiled, broiled, and roast, together with strong ale and sack. After an
hour thus agreeably employed, and while they were still seated, though
breakfast had pretty nearly come to an end, a serving-man entered,
announcing Master Richard Sherborne of Dunnow. The squire instantly
sprang to his feet, and hastened to welcome his brother-in-law.

"Ah! good-day to you, Dick," he cried, shaking him heartily by the hand;
"what happy chance brings you here so early? But first sit down and
eat--eat, and talk afterwards. Here, Roger, Harry, bring another platter
and napkin, and let us have more broiled trout and a cold capon, a
pasty, or whatever you can find in the larder. Try some of this gammon
meanwhile, Dick. It will help down a can of ale. And now what brings
thee hither, lad? Pressing business, no doubt. Thou mayest speak before
Fogg. I have no secrets from him. He is my second self."

"I have no secrets to divulge, Nicholas," replied Sherborne, "and I will
tell you at once what I am come about. Have you heard that the King is
about to visit Hoghton Tower in August?"

"No; this is news to me," replied Nicholas; "does your business relate
to his visit?"

"It does," replied Sherborne. "Last night a messenger came to me from
Sir Richard Hoghton, entreating me to move you to do him the favour and
courtesy to attend him at the King's coming, and wear his livery."

"I wear his livery!" exclaimed Nicholas, indignantly. "'Sdeath! what do
you take me for, cousin Dick?"

"For a right good fellow, who I am sure will comply with his friend's
request, especially when he finds there is no sort of degradation in
it," replied Sherborne. "Why, I shall wear Sir Richard's cloth, and so
will several others of our friends. There will be rare doings at
Hoghton--masquings, mummings, and all sorts of revels, besides hunting,
shooting, racing, wrestling, and the devil knows what. You may feast and
carouse to your heart's content. The Dukes of Buckingham and Richmond
will be there, and the Earls of Nottingham and Pembroke, and Sir Gilbert
Hoghton, the King's great favourite, who married the Duchess of
Buckingham's sister. Besides these, you will have all the beauty of
Lancashire. I would not miss the sight for thirty pounds."

"Thirty pounds!" echoed Nicholas, as if struck with a sudden thought.
"Do you think Sir Thomas Hoghton would lend me that sum if I consent to
wear his cloth, and attend him?"

"I have no doubt of it," replied Sherborne; "and if he won't, I will."

"Then I will put my pride in my pocket, and go," said Nicholas. "And
now, Dick, dispatch your breakfast as quickly as you can, and then I
will take you to the Ribble, and show you some sport with an otter."

Sherborne was not long in concluding his repast, and having received an
otter spear from the squire, who had already provided himself and Fogg
with like weapons, all three adjourned to the kennels, where they found
the old huntsman, Charlie Crouch, awaiting them, attended by four stout
varlets, armed with forked staves, meant for the double purpose of
beating the river's banks, and striking the poor beast they were about
to hunt, and each man having a couple of hounds, well entered for the
chase, in leash. Old Crouch was a thin, grey-bearded fellow, but
possessed of a tough, muscular frame, which served him quite as well in
the long run as the younger, and apparently more vigorous, limbs of his
assistants. His cheek was hale, and his eye still bright and quick, and
a certain fierceness was imparted to his countenance by a large
aquiline nose. He was attired in a greasy leathern jerkin, tight hose of
the same material, and had a bugle suspended from his neck, and a sharp
hunting-knife thrust into his girdle. In his hand he bore a spear like
his master, and was followed by a grey old lurcher, who, though wanting
an ear and an eye, and disfigured by sundry scars on throat and back,
was hardy, untiring, and sagacious. This ancient dog was called Grip,
from his tenacity in holding any thing he set his teeth upon, and he and
Crouch were inseparable.

Great was the clamour occasioned by the squire's appearance in the yard.
The coupled hounds gave tongue at once, and sang out most melodiously,
and all the other dogs within the kennels, or roaming at will about the
yard, joined the concert. After much swearing, cracking of whips, and
yelping consequent upon the cracking, silence was in some degree
restored, and a consultation was then held between Nicholas and Crouch
as to where their steps should first be bent. The old huntsman was for
drawing the river near a place called Bean Hill Wood, as the trees
thereabouts, growing close to the water's edge, it was pretty certain
the otter would have her couch amid the roots of some of them. This was
objected to by one of the varlets, who declared that the beast lodged in
a hollow tree, standing on a bank nearly a mile higher up the stream,
and close by the point of junction between Swanside Beck and the Ribble.
He was certain of the fact, he avouched, because he had noticed her
marks on the moist grass near the tree.

"Hoo goes theere to fish, mon?" cried Crouch, "for it is the natur o'
the wary varmint to feed at a distance fro' her lodgin; boh ey'm sure we
shan leet on her among the roots o' them big trees o'erhanging th' river
near Bean Hill Wood, an if the squire 'll tay my advice, he'n go theere
first."

"I put myself entirely under your guidance, Crouch," said Nicholas.

"An yo'n be aw reet, sir," replied the huntsman; "we'n beat the bonks
weel, an two o' these chaps shan go up the stream, an two down, one o'
one side, and one o' t'other; an i' that manner hoo canna escape us, fo'
Grip can swim an dive os weel as onny otter i' aw Englondshiar, an he'n
be efter her an her litter the moment they tak to t' wotur. Some folk,
os maybe yo ha' seen, squoire, tak howd on a cord by both eends, an
droppin it into t' river, draw it slowly along, so that they can tell by
th' jerk when th' otter touches it; boh this is an onsartin method, an
is nowt like Grip's plan, for wherever yo see him swimmin, t'other beast
yo may be sure is nah far ahead."

"A brave dog, but confoundedly ugly!" exclaimed the squire, regarding
the old one-eared, one-eyed lurcher with mingled admiration and disgust;
"and now, that all is arranged, let us be off."

Accordingly they quitted the court-yard, and, shaping their course in
the direction indicated by the huntsman, entered the park, and proceeded
along a glade, checkered by the early sunbeams. Here the noise they made
in their progress speedily disturbed a herd of deer browsing beneath the
trees, and, as the dappled foresters darted off to a thicker covert,
great difficulty was experienced by the varlets in restraining the
hounds, who struggled eagerly to follow them, and made the welkin
resound with their baying.

"Yonder is a tall fellow," cried Nicholas, pointing out a noble buck to
Crouch; "I must kill him next week, for I want to send a haunch of
venison to Middleton, and another to Whalley Abbey for Sir Ralph."

"Better hunt him, squoire," said Crouch; "he will gi' ye good sport."

Soon after this they attained an eminence, where a charming sweep of
country opened upon them, including the finest part of Ribblesdale, with
its richly-wooded plains, and the swift and beautiful river from which
it derived its name. The view was enchanting, and the squire and his
companions paused for a moment to contemplate it, and then, stepping
gleefully forward, made their way over the elastic turf towards a small
thicket skirting the park. All were in high spirits, for the freshness
and beauty of the morning had not been without effect, and the squire's
tongue kept pace with his legs as he strode briskly along; but as they
entered the thicket in question, and caught sight of the river through
the trees, the old huntsman enjoined silence, and he was obliged to put
a check upon his loquacity.

When within a bowshot from the water, the party came to a halt, and two
of the men were directed by Crouch to cross the stream at different
points, and then commence beating the banks, while the other two were
ordered to pursue a like course, but to keep on the near side of the
river. The hounds were next uncoupled, and the men set off to execute
the orders they had received, and soon afterwards the crashing of
branches, and the splashing of water, accompanied by the deep baying of
the hounds, told they were at work.

Meanwhile, Nicholas and the others had not remained idle. As the varlets
struck off in different directions, they went straight on, and forcing
their way through the brushwood, came to a high bank overlooking the
Ribble, on the top of which grew three or four large trees, whose roots,
laid bare on the further side by the swollen currents of winter, formed
a convenient resting-place for the fish-loving creature they hoped to
surprise. Receiving a hint from Crouch to make for the central tree,
Nicholas grasped his spear, and sprang forward; but, quick as he was, he
was too late, though he saw enough to convince him that the crafty old
huntsman had been correct in his judgment; for a dark, slimy object
dropped from out the roots of the tree beneath him, and glided into the
water as swiftly and as noiselessly as if its skin had been oiled. A few
bubbles rose to the surface of the water, but these were all the
indications marking the course of the wondrous diver.

But other eyes, sharper than those of Nicholas, were on the watch, and
the old huntsman shouted out, "There hoo goes, Grip--efter her, lad,
efter her!" The words were scarcely uttered when the dog sprang from the
top of the bank and sank under the water. For some seconds no trace
could be observed of either animal, and then the shaggy nose of the
lurcher was seen nearly fifty yards higher up the river, and after
sniffing around for a moment, and fixing his single eye on his master,
who was standing on the bank, and encouraging him with his voice and
gesture, he dived again.

"Station yourselves on the bank, fifty paces apart," cried Crouch; "run,
run, or yo'n be too late, an' strike os quick os leet if yo've a chance.
Stay wheere you are, squoire," he added, to Nicholas. "Yo canna be
better placed."

All was now animation and excitement. Perceiving from the noise that the
otter had been found, the four varlets hastened towards the scene of
action, and, by their shouts and the clatter of their staves,
contributed greatly to its spirit. Two were on one side of the stream,
and two on the other, and up to this moment the hounds were similarly
separated; but now most of them had taken to the water, some swimming
about, others standing up to the middle in the shallower part of the
current, watching with keen gaze for the appearance of their anticipated
victim.

Having descended the bank, Nicholas had so placed himself among the huge
twisted roots of the tree, that if the otter, alarmed by the presence of
so many foes, and unable to escape either up or down the river, should
return to her couch, he made certain of striking her. At first there
seemed little chance of such an occurrence, for Fogg, who had gone a
hundred yards higher up, suddenly dashed into the stream, and, plunging
his spear into the mud, cried out that he had hit the beast; but the
next moment, when he drew the weapon forth, and exhibited a large rat
which he had transfixed, his mistake excited much merriment.

Old Crouch, meantime, did not suffer his attention to be drawn from his
dog. Every now and then he saw him come to the surface to breathe, but
as he kept within a short distance, though rising at different points,
the old huntsman felt certain the otter had not got away, and, having
the utmost reliance upon Grip's perseverance and sagacity, he felt
confident he would bring the quarry to him if the thing were possible.
The varlets kept up an incessant clatter, beating the water with their
staves, and casting large stones into it, while the hounds bayed
furiously, so that the poor fugitive was turned on whichever side she
attempted a retreat.

While this was going on, Nicholas was cautioned by the huntsman to look
out, and scarcely had the admonition reached him than the sleek shining
body of the otter emerged from the water, and wreathed itself among the
roots. The squire instantly dealt a blow which he expected to prove
fatal, but his mortification was excessive when he found he had driven
the spear-head so deeply into the tree that he could scarcely disengage
it, while an almost noiseless plunge told that his prey had escaped.
Almost at the same moment that the poor hunted beast had sought its old
lodging, the untiring lurcher had appeared at the edge of the bank, and,
as the former again went down, he dived likewise.

Secretly laughing at the squire's failure, the old huntsman prepared to
take advantage of a similar opportunity if it should present itself, and
with this view ensconced himself behind a pollard willow, which stood
close beside the stream, and whence he could watch closely all that
passed, without being exposed to view. The prudence of the step was soon
manifest. After the lapse of a few seconds, during which neither dog nor
otter had risen to breathe, a slight, very slight, undulation was
perceptible on the surface of the water. Crouch's grasp tightened upon
his staff--he waited another moment--then dashed forward, struck down
his spear, and raised it aloft, with the poor otter transfixed and
writhing upon its point.

Loudly and exultingly did the old man shout at his triumph, and loudly
were his vociferations answered by the others. All flew to the spot
where he was standing, and the hounds, gathering round him, yelled
furiously at the otter, and showed every disposition to tear her in
pieces, if they could get at her. Kicking the noisiest and fiercest of
them out of the way, Crouch approached the river's brink, and lowered
the spear-head till it came within reach of his favourite Grip, who had
not yet come out of the water, but stood within his depth, with his one
red eye fixed on the enemy he had so hotly pursued, and fully expecting
his reward. It now came; his sharp teeth instantly met in the otter's
throat, and when Crouch swung them both in the air, he still maintained
his hold, showing how well he deserved his name, nor could he be
disengaged until long after the sufferings of the tortured animal had
ceased.

To say that Nicholas was neither chagrined at his ill success, nor
jealous of the old huntsman's superior skill, would be to affirm an
untruth; but he put the best face he could upon the matter, and praised
Grip very highly, alleging that the whole merit of the hunt rested with
him. Old Crouch let him go on, and when he had done, quietly observed
that the otter they had destroyed was not the one they came in search
of, as they had seen nothing of her litter; and that, most likely, the
beast that had done so much mischief had her lodging in the hollow tree
near the Swanside Beck, as described by the varlet, and he wished to
know whether the squire would like to go and hunt her. Nicholas replied
that he was quite willing to do so, and hoped he should have better luck
on the second occasion; and with this they set forward again, taking
their way along the side of the stream, beating the banks as they went,
but without rousing any thing beyond an occasional water-rat, which was
killed almost as soon as found by Grip.

Somehow or other, without any one being aware what led to it the
conversation fell upon the two old witches, Mothers Demdike and Chattox,
and the strange manner in which their career had terminated on the
summit of Pendle Hill--if, indeed it could be said to have terminated,
when their spirits were reported to haunt the spot, and might be seen,
it was asserted, at midnight, flitting round the beacon, and shrieking
dismally. The restless shades were pursued, it was added, by the figure
of a monk in white mouldering robes, supposed to be the ghost of Paslew.
It was difficult to understand how these apparitions could be witnessed,
since no one, even for a reward, could be prevailed upon to ascend
Pendle Hill after nightfall; but the shepherds affirmed they had seen
them from below, and that was testimony sufficient to shake the most
sceptical. One singular circumstance was mentioned, which must not be
passed by without notice; and this was, that when the cinders of the
extinct beacon-fire came to be examined, no remains whatever of the two
hags could be discovered, though the ashes were carefully sifted, and it
was quite certain that the flames had expired long before their bodies
could be consumed. The explanation attempted for this marvel was, that
Satan had carried them off while yet living, to finish their combustion
in a still more fiery region.

Mention of Mother Demdike naturally led to her grandson, Jem Device,
who, having escaped in a remarkable manner on the night in question,
notwithstanding the hue and cry made after him, had not, as yet, been
captured, though he had been occasionally seen at night, and under
peculiar circumstances, by various individuals, and amongst others by
old Crouch, who, however, declared he had been unable to lay hands upon
him.