Читать книгу Nooks and Corners of Lancashire and Cheshire - James Croston - Страница 10

Table of Contents

Cheshire abounds with ancient houses, but few, if any, of them are more interesting from their historical or traditional associations than Marple Hall, the home of Colonel Henry Bradshaw, the noted Cromwellian soldier, and the place where his younger brother, “Judge” Bradshaw, passed the earlier years of his eventful life. It is one of the few old mansions of the county that have remained to the descendants of the earlier possessors, and though located in close proximity to a district singularly at variance with associations awakened by the time-honoured memorials of bygone days, is yet surrounded by much that is picturesque and attractive.

The house, which stands a mile or more away from the straggling village from which it takes its name, is within the compass of a pleasant walk from Stockport or Hazel Grove, but it is more readily approached from the Rose Hill Station of the Macclesfield and Bollington Railway. It cannot be seen from the highway, but an antiquated and somewhat stately looking gateway, a few yards from the station, gives admission to a tree-shaded drive that leads across the park, at the further end of which the quaint old pile comes in view, standing upon a natural platform or terrace, with a lichened and moss-grown wall on the further side, all grey and weather-worn, that extends along the edge of the precipice on which it is built. The shelving slopes below are clothed with shrubs and trees that furnish a pleasant shade in the summer time; wild flowers in abundance peep out from the clefts and crevices; and were our visit made in the earlier months of the year, while the white fringe of nature’s weaving yet lingers upon the skirts of winter’s mantle, we should find the acclivities plentifully besprinkled with the pale and delicate blossoms of the snowdrop—the firstling of the year awakening from its lengthened sleep to proclaim the reanimation of the vegetable world. At the foot of the cliff is a sequestered dingle with a still pool, the remains, possibly, of a former moat or mere,[4] that gleams in the green depths, and a tiny rivulet that looks up through the overhanging verdure as it wanders on in pastoral and picturesque seclusion. The well-wooded heights of Thorncliffe shut in this bosky dell from the valley of the Goyt, across which, from the terraced heights, there is a delightful view in the direction of Werneth Low, the Arnfield and Woodhead Moors, and the range of green uplands and dusky eminences which stretch away in long succession to the pale blue hills that in the remote distance bound the landscape. There this interesting memorial of the stormiest period of England’s history stands in peaceful serenity, lifting its dark stone front above the surrounding offices and outbuildings, with its high-peaked gables draped with a luxurious mantle of ivy that softens the sterner outlines into beauty, its long, low, mullioned windows, and its entrance tower and balcony above, now protected by a latticed railing, so as to form a kind of observatory, and which once had the addition of a cupola.

High on a craggy steep it stands,

Near Marple’s fertile vale,

An ancient ivy-covered house

That overlooks the dale.

And lofty woods of elm and oak

That ancient house enclose,

And on the walls a neighb’ring yew

It sombre shadow throws.

A many-gabled house it is,

With antique turret crowned,

And many a quaint device, designed

In carvings rude, is found.

So says Mr. Leigh, in one of his “Legendary Ballads of Cheshire.” The first glimpse gives evidence of the fact that it has been erected at different periods, additions having been made from time to time as the convenience or requirements of successive occupants have dictated; but none of these are of modern date, or in any way detract from its venerable aspect. On the south a lofty wall encloses the garden and a court that occupies the entire front of the house. Tall pillars of the Carolinian period, supporting a pair of gates of metal-work, forming the principal entrance, give admission to this court; and if the wayfarer is fortunate enough to be provided with an introduction, or if with a taste for antiquarian investigation he unites the manners of a gentleman, he may rely upon a courteous reception.

The time of our visit is a pleasant autumn afternoon. The trees and hedges are in the fulness of their summer verdure; but the waning of the year is evidenced by the lengthened shadows, the warm golden hue that is deepening upon the landscape, and the russet, purple, and yellow with which the woods, though green in the main, are touched. Turning suddenly to the right, we quit the highway, and saunter leisurely along the broad gravelled path. As we approach the gates we become conscious that something unusual is astir. Pedestrians are wending their way towards the hall; occasionally a carriage rattles past; and then, as we draw near, the sounds of mirth and minstrelsy break upon the ear. Passing through the old gateway leading to the court, we find groups of people on the lawn, and the lady of the house is flitting to and fro with a pleasant word and a kindly greeting for every one. A fête champêtre is being held in the grounds, and a fancy fair is going on in one of the outbuildings, which has been smartened up and decorated for the occasion, the proceeds of the sale, we are told, going towards the rebuilding of

The decent church that tops the neighbouring hill,

or rather the building of a new one by its side, which, when finished, is to supersede it. A “steeple-house,” forsooth! At the very mention of the name a host of memories are conjured up. For a moment the mind wanders back along the dim avenues of the past to the stormy days of Cavalier and Roundhead, and we think of the mighty change the whirligig of time has brought about since Bradshaw’s fanatical soldiery bivouacked here, ready to plunder and profane the sanctuary, and to destroy, root and branch, hip and thigh, the “sons of Belial” who sought solace within its walls, or, as Hudibras has it:—

Reduce the Church to Gospel order,

By rapine, sacrilege, and murder.

Happily, fate has not ordained that we should sleep here this night; for Marple, be it remembered, has its ghost chamber—what ancient house with any pretensions to importance has not?—and if the shades of the departed can at the “silent, solemn hour, when night and morning meet,” revisit this lower world, those of the stern old Puritan colonel and the grim-visaged “Lord President” would assuredly disturb our slumber.

But let us quit the shadowy realms of legend and romance, and betake ourselves to that of sober, historic fact. After the overthrow of Harold on the fatal field of Hastings, Marple passed into the hands of Norman grantees, and in the days of the earlier Plantagenet Kings formed part of the possessions of the barons of Stockport, being held by them under the Earl of Chester on the condition of finding one forester for the Earl’s forest of Macclesfield. The lands, with those of Wyberslegh, in the same township, were, some time between the years 1209 and 1229, given by Robert de Stockport as a marriage portion to his sister Margaret on her marriage with William de Vernon, afterwards Chief Justice of Chester, a younger son of the Baron of Shipbrooke, who through his mother had acquired the lands of Haddon, in Derbyshire; and from that time Marple formed part of the patrimony of the lords of Haddon until the death of Sir George Vernon, the renowned “King of the Peak,” in 1567, a period of three centuries and a half, the estates being then divided between his two daughters, Haddon with other property in Derbyshire devolving upon Dorothy Vernon, the heroine of the romantic elopement with Sir John Manners, the ancestor of the Dukes of Rutland, whilst Marple and Wyberslegh fell to the lot of Margaret, the wife of Sir Thomas Stanley of Winwick, the second son of Edward Earl of Derby—that Earl of whom Camden says that “with his death the glory of hospitality seemed to fall asleep.” Their son, Sir Edward Stanley, of Tonge Castle, in Shropshire, having no issue, sold the manor and lands of Marple in small lots to Thomas Hibbert,[5] chaplain to Lord Keeper Bridgman, who married Elizabeth, daughter of Henry Bradshaw, of Marple, and who was the grandfather of the celebrated divine, Henry Hibbert.

Some time about the year 1560 the Henry Bradshaw here named, who was a younger son of William Bradshaw, of Bradshaw Hall, near Chapel-en-le-Frith, the representative of an old Lancashire family of Saxon origin, seated at Bradshaw, near Bolton, from a time anterior to the Conquest, and which had been dispossessed and repossessed of its estates by the Norman invaders, married Dorothy, one of the daughters and co-heirs of George Bagshawe, of the Ridge, in the parish of Chapel-en-le-Frith, a family that in a later generation numbered amongst its members the eminent Nonconformist divine, William Bagshawe, better known as the “Apostle of the Peak,” and became tenant of a house in Marple called The Place, still existing, and forming part of the Marple estate. By this marriage he had a son bearing his own baptismal name, and, in addition, two daughters, Elizabeth, who became the wife of Thomas Hibbert as already stated, and Sarah, who is said by some genealogists—though on what authority is not clear—to have been the wife of John Milton, the wealthy scrivener, of Bread Street, London, and the mother of England’s great epic poet, whom John Bradshaw in his will spoke of as his “kinsman John Milton.”

In 1606, as appears by a deed among the Marple muniments, dated 7th July, 4 James, Henry Bradshaw the elder, therein styled a “yoman,” purchased from Sir Edward Stanley, for the sum of £270, certain premises in Marple and Wyberslegh, comprising a messuage and tenement, with its appurtenances, another tenement situate in Marple or Wibersley, and a close commonly called The Place, the said premises being at the time, as is stated, partly occupied by Henry Bradshaw the elder and partly by Henry Bradshaw the younger, his son and heir-apparent. The estate at that time must have been comparatively small. Two years later (30th June, 1608), as appears by the Calendar of Recognizance Rolls of the Palatinate of Chester, now deposited in the Record Office, London, Henry Bradshaw, to further secure his title, obtained an enrolment of the charter of Randal Earl of Chester, granting in free-forestry Merple and Wibreslega, as they are there called, with lands in Upton and Macclesfield, to Robert, son of Robert de Stockport; and another enrolment of the charter of Robert de Stockport, granting to William Vernon, and Margery his wife, the lands of Marple and Wybersley, from which William and Margery the property passed, as we have said, by successive descents to Sir Edward Stanley, from whom Bradshaw acquired it.

Henry Bradshaw the younger, following the example of his father, also married an heiress, thus further adding to the territorial possessions, as well as to the social status, of his house, his wife being Catherine, the younger of the two daughters and co-heirs of Ralph Winnington, the last male representative of a family seated for seven generations at Offerton Hall, a building still standing near the highroad midway between Stockport and Marple, though now shorn of much of its former dignity. The registers of Stockport show that they were married there on the 4th February, 1593. To them were born four sons and two daughters. William, the eldest, died in infancy. With Henry, born in 1600, and John, born in 1602, we are more immediately concerned, for it is round them that the interest and the associations of Marple chiefly gather.

The elder Bradshaw, the founder of the Marple line, died in 1619–20, when Henry, his son, who had then been a widower sixteen years, succeeded to the family estates. No records of his private life have been preserved, but it may not be unreasonably assumed that, after the death of his wife, and as he did not remarry, he lived in comparative retirement, leading the life of an unostentatious country gentleman, improving his estate, and supervising the education of his children. Two years after he had entered upon the possession of his inheritance, that important functionary the Herald made his official visitation of Cheshire, when the gentlemen and esquires of the county were called upon to register their descents and show their claim to the arms they severally bore; and it is worthy of note, as indicating his indifference to, or disdain of, the “noble science,” that though, as we have seen, of ancient and honourable lineage and entitled to bear arms, Henry Bradshaw did not obey the Herald’s summons,[6] probably “feeling assured,” as Macaulay said of the old Puritan, “that if his name was not found in the Registers of Heralds, it was recorded in the Book of Life; and hence originated his contempt for territorial distinctions, accomplishments, and dignities.”

Surrounded by home affections, Bradshaw appears to have taken little interest in public affairs; though, as a strict Calvinist and stern moralist, he could not but have looked with disfavour on the republication of the “Book of Sports,” and the revival of the Sunday wakes and festivals, in which religion and pleasure were so strangely blended; nor, as an Englishman, could he have been an indifferent spectator of the breach which was gradually widening between the King and his people.

A cloud was then gathering which presaged a great religious and political tempest. The year in which Bradshaw lost his wife was that which closed the long and brilliant reign of the last of the Tudor sovereigns. James of Scotland succeeded—a King who reigned like a woman after a woman who had reigned like a man. The Puritans in Elizabeth’s time were comparatively insignificant in numbers, but the strictness of the Queen’s ecclesiastical rule acted upon their stubborn nature, and those who were averse to Episcopacy, and impatient of uniformity in rites and ceremonies and the decorous adjuncts of a National Church, grew formidable under James, and turbulent and aggressive after the accession of Charles. The policy of Elizabeth gave a political standing ground to Puritanism, and Puritanism gave to the political war in which the nation became involved a relentless character that was all its own. In 1634 was issued the writ for the levying of Ship-money—“that word of lasting sound in the memory of this kingdom,” as Clarendon calls it—a word which lit the torch of revolution, and for a period of eleven years kept the country in almost uninterrupted strife. The occasion was eagerly availed of by the discontented; pulpits were perverted by religious fanatics, and violent appeals made to the passions of the populace, who were preached into rebellion; while more thoughtful, yet brave and strong-minded men, impressed with a stern, unflinching love of justice, and a determination to maintain those liberties they held to be their birthright, contended to the death against “imposts” and “levies” and “compositions,” and against the worse mockery of “loans” which no man was free to refuse, as well as the despotism that more than threatened their common country. It was a fatal time for England. Dignified by some high virtues, possessing many excellent endowments both of head and heart, Charles yet lacked sincerity, forethought, and decision, and the capacity required for the wise conduct of affairs. The blame for the strifes and contentions which arose does not, however, attach wholly to the sovereign, nor yet to his subjects. The absolutism of the Tudors was, in a measure, the cause of the sins of the Stuarts, and the sins of the Stuarts brought about the miseries of the Rebellion, just as in turn the despotic rule and grinding social tyranny of the Commonwealth period led to the excesses of the Restoration. Charles was born out of season, and lived too much in a world of his own ideas to comprehend the significance of events that were passing around him. The twining of the Red and White Roses upon the ensanguined field of Bosworth was followed by the break-up of the feudal system, and the effacement of many of the old landmarks of English society; a new class of landowners had sprung into existence, eager for the acquirement of political freedom, and the king was unable or unwilling to recognise the changed condition of things. He inherited from his father inordinate notions of kingly power, and he resolutely shut his eyes to the fact that he had to deal with an entirely different state of public opinion. The power of the sovereign had waned, but that of the people had increased; Parliament, while bent upon abridging the ancient constitutional prerogative of the Crown, was equally resolute in the extension of its own. The King persisted in his determination to reign and govern by “divine right”—he refused to yield anything—and in the fierce struggle which he provoked he fell. Moderation was no longer thought of; the time for compromise was past; the seeds of strife were sown and nurtured both by King and Parliament, who, distrusting and wearied of each other, no longer cared for peace. At length the storm burst. At Manchester, on the 15th July, 1642—a month before the unfurling of the Royal standard at Nottingham—very nearly upon the spot where now stands the statue of Cromwell, the first shot was fired and the first blood shed in that great conflict which drenched the country in civil slaughter.

When the first shot was fired which proclaimed to anxious England that the differences between the King and the Parliament were only to be settled by an appeal to arms, the two sons of Henry Bradshaw had attained to the fulness of manhood, Henry, the eldest, having then lately completed his forty-second year, while John was his junior only by two years.

Henry Bradshaw, the third of the name, who resided at Marple, was born, as previously stated, in 1600, and baptised at the old church at Stockport on the 23rd June in the same year. Following with admirable consistency the practice of his progenitors, he further added to the territorial possessions of his house by marrying a rich heiress—Mary, the eldest of the two daughters and co-heirs of Bernard Wells,[7] of Holme, in the parish of Bakewell. The marriage settlement bears date 30 Sep., 6 Charles I. (1631), and Mr. Ormerod, the historian of Cheshire, says that he had bestowed upon him by his father-in-law the hall of Wyberslegh, but this is evidently an error, for, as we have previously seen, his father and grandfather between them purchased Wyberslegh, along with Marple, from Sir Edward Stanley, a quarter of a century previously, and the hall continued, as it had been from time immemorial, appendant to that of Marple. It is more than probable, however, that he took his young bride to Wyberslegh, and resided there during his father’s lifetime, so that it would appear that the first of the Bradshaws settled at Marple lived at The Place, where he died in 1611, after which it ceased to be occupied as the family residence. Henry, his son, resided at the hall, and the youngest of the three occupied Wyberslegh until he succeeded to the family estate. Mary Wells, by whom he had a son who succeeded as heir, and two daughters, predeceased him, and he again entered the marriage state, his second wife being Anne, daughter of George Bowdon, of Bowdon, in Cheshire, by whom he had five sons and one or more daughters, Though by no means insensible to the advantages accruing from the possession of worldly wealth, it does not appear that he added materially to his temporal estate by his second marriage. The Bowdons were a family of ancient rank, who at one time owned one-fourth part of Bowdon, but their estates had gradually dwindled away, and were finally alienated by sale to the Booths of Dunham, in the early part of Elizabeth’s reign.

Inheriting from his father the Puritan sentiments of the age, Henry Bradshaw carried those feelings with him into a more active arena. Living in close neighbourship with Colonel Dukenfield, Edward Hyde, of Norbury, Ralph Arderne, of Harden, Ralph Holland, of Denton, and holding intimate relations with the Booths of Dunham, the Breretons of Handforth, the Stanleys of Alderley, and other influential Presbyterian families, their friendship doubtless helped to shape the part he took in public affairs. When the storm which had been long gathering burst, he took his stand with the Parliament against the King, and became one of the most active officers on the side of the Commonwealth. He served as sergeant-major in the regiment commanded by his neighbour, Robert Dukenfield, and would, therefore, in all probability, take part in the lengthened siege of “Mr. Tatton’s house of Whittenshaw (Wythenshawe),” in the winter of 1643–4, as well as in the fruitless attempt, a few months later, to defend Stockport Bridge against Rupert and his Cavaliers, who were hastening to the relief of Lathom House, in Lancashire, where the heroic Countess of Derby was bravely defending her husband’s home against greatly superior forces. Though a Cheshire man, he held a lieutenant-colonel’s commission in Assheton’s Lancashire regiment, and subsequently was appointed to the command of the entire militia within the Macclesfield hundred, in his own county. He was present also with the Cheshire men at the final overthrow of the Royalist army—the “crowning mercy,” as Cromwell phrased it—at Worcester, Sept 3, 1651, where it was said he was wounded, but if so the injury must have been only slight, for before the end of the month he was acting as one of the members of the court-martial appointed under a commission from Cromwell for the trial of the Earl of Derby. After the disaster at Worcester, the Earl had accompanied the King in his flight, until he was safe in the care of the Pendrells, when, with Lord Lauderdale, Lord Talbot, and about 40 troopers, he started northwards, in the hope of overtaking the remnant of the Scotch army, but when near Nantwich the fugitives fell into the hands of Oliver Edge,[8] a captain in the Manchester regiment, also returning from Worcester. Quarter having been given by his captor, the Earl naturally believed that he would be entitled to the immunities of a prisoner of war, but he soon found himself under close confinement in Chester Castle, of which Colonel Dukenfield was at the time governor. Cromwell, having got his most formidable foe in his power, resolved to get for ever rid of him by the shortest process that time and circumstances admitted. The Earl was therefore at once brought for trial before Bradshaw and the other members appointed on the court-martial, on the charge of high treason in contravening an Act of Parliament passed only a few weeks before, and of which, as his accusers were well aware, he could have no knowledge, and, in defiance of the recognised laws of war and the conditions on which he had surrendered, was pronounced guilty and sentenced to be beheaded at Bolton. Dr. Halley, in his history of “Lancashire Puritanism and Nonconformity,” says that Colonel Bradshaw, notwithstanding that he had voted for the rejection of the Earl’s plea; “earnestly entreated his brother, the Lord President, to obtain a commutation of the punishment,” but, if he did, his efforts were unsuccessful. Seacombe attributed the execution of the Earl to the “inveterate malice” of (President) Bradshaw, Rigby, and Birch, which originated, he says, as to Bradshaw, because of the Earl’s refusing him the Vice-Chamberlainship of Chester;[9] Rigby, because of his ill-success at Lathom; and Birch, in his lordship having trailed him under a hay cart at Manchester on the occasion of the outbreak in July, 1642, by which he got, even among his own party, the epithet of “Lord Derby’s Carter.” He adds that, “Cromwell and Bradshaw had so ordered the matter that when they saw the major part of the House inclined to allow the Earl’s plea, as the Speaker was putting the question, eight or nine of them quitted the House, and those left in it being under the number of forty, no question could be put.” The latter statement, however, is hardly borne out by the Commons Journal,[10] which, under date “14 October, 1651,” makes this brief mention of the reception of the Earl’s petition:—

Mr. Speaker, by way of report, acquaints the House with a letter which he had received from the Earl of Derby; and the question being put—That the said letter be now read, the House was divided. The yeas went forth, Sir William Brereton and Mr. Ellis tellers for the yeas, with the yeas, 22; Mr. Bond and Major-General Harrison, tellers for the noes, with the noes, 16, so it passed in the affirmative. A letter from the Earl of Derby, of the 11th of October, 1651, with a petition therein enclosed, entitled, “The Humble Petition of the Earl of Derby,” was this day read.

In the administration of affairs in his own county, Colonel Bradshaw took an active part. He was one of the commissioners for the Macclesfield hundred for the sequestration of the estates of those who retained Royalist opinions, or who refused to take the national covenant, and his name appears first among the signataries to the famous Lancashire and Cheshire petition to the Parliament, praying for the establishment of the Presbyterian religion, and urging that “the frequenters of separate conventicles might be discountenanced and punished.” The petitioners who had previously pleaded conscience having gained the ascendancy were now anxious to stifle freedom of thought, and to exercise a tyranny over their fellow-men, justifying the remark of Fuller, that “those who desired most ease and liberty for their sides when bound with Episcopacy, now girt their own garments closest about the consciences of others.” In those troublous times marriage as a religious ceremony was forbidden, and became merely a civil contract entered into before a justice of the peace, after three “publications” at the “meeting place,” or in the “market place,” the statute declaring that “no other marriage whatsoever shall be held or accounted a marriage according to the laws of England.” Bradshaw, as a county justice, officiated at many of these civil marriages, and his neat and carefully-written autograph frequently appears in the church books of the period, with his heraldic seal affixed (for, however he might affect to contemn such vanities, he was yet careful to display the armorial ensigns of his house when acting officially with his more aristocratic neighbours), sometimes as appointing parish registrars, and at others ordering the levying of church rates and sanctioning the parish accounts, which at the time could not be passed without magisterial confirmation.

Colonel Bradshaw lived to see the fall of the Commonwealth, and the overthrow of that form of government he had done so much to establish, but he did not long survive the restoration of monarchy. After that event had taken place, he was brought before the Lords Committee to answer for the part he had taken in the court-martial on Lord Derby, and committed to the custody of the Messenger of Black Rod. He appears, however, to have been leniently dealt with, for, after submitting to what reads very like an apology for his conduct, he was set at liberty, and permitted to pass the remainder of his days in peace. Those days were but few: the anxiety consequent upon the changed aspect of affairs was too much for him—his spirit was broken, and he died at Marple a few months after (11th March, 1661–2). On the 15th March, 1661–2, in accordance with his previously-expressed desire, his remains were laid beside those of his father and grandfather in the little chapel belonging to his family, then standing on the south side of the chancel of Stockport Church.

It does not appear that a copy of his will, which was proved at Chester, by the executor, 27th February, 1662, has at any time been published, but the following abstract, made by Mr. J. Fred. Beever, and contributed by him to “Local Gleanings,” appeared in the Manchester Courier of October 15, 1875:—

2 July 12 Car. II (1660) I Henry Bradshaw of Marple co. Chester doe … buried in my father’s grave in Marple Quire in the par. Churche of Stockport if I depart this life in Cheshire … my sonne John Bradshawe … all my lands in Bowden Medlarie (Bowdon Edge?) and Mellor in the county of Darbie … my sonne William Bradshawe … my lands in Chapel-le-Frith and Briggeworth (Bugsworth?) co. Derby … Godfrey Bradshawe, Francis Bradshawe and Joseph Bradshawe, my three youngest sonnes … all my lands in Torkington co. Chester … Anne my lovinge wife … she having a jointure out of my lands in Cheshire and Wibersley … my sonne and heire Henery Bradshawe … all my bookes … my twoe daughters Barbara and Catharine, they being by their grandfather Wells and his wife well provided for. To my daughter Dorothy … £400, to my daughter Rachel … £500, to my youngest daughter Anne … £400 … my said sonne Henery Bradshawe … (the residuary legatee and executor) … my good friend Edward Warren, of Poynton esq. … (overseer).

Bradshaw was wont to lament that he had “a small estate and eleven children.” The whole eleven, as well as his second wife survived him. Among the family portraits at Marple was (and may be still) one of a young maiden, said to be a daughter of the colonel. Round this lady the glamour of romance has been cast, and a tradition tells the story of her unhappy fate. In those times, when not unfrequently members of the same family took opposite sides, when father contended with son, and brother met brother in mortal conflict, Miss Bradshaw, with scant regard for the religious and political principles of her house, had formed an attachment for a young officer in the Royalist army, whose family had in happier days been on terms of intimacy with her own. Though he had espoused the cause of his sovereign, the Puritan colonel, in consideration of former friendships, treated him with personal kindness and welcomed him to his house. On one occasion, when entrusted with the conveyance of despatches to the King, who was then with his army at Chester, having occasion to pass near Marple, the young cavalier halted and stayed the night with the family of his betrothed. Mistress Bradshaw, with a woman’s intuitiveness, suspecting the nature of his mission, and fearing the letters he was commissioned to deliver might bode no good to her husband’s house, resolved, with the help of a trusty waiting-maid, to secretly ascertain their contents. Having done this, and found that her worst fears were realised, her next thought was how to prevent their reaching the King’s hands without awakening the suspicions of their bearer. Summoning to her councils an old servitor of the family, it was decided to partially sever the straps by which the saddle-bags containing the dreaded missives were attached, so that the attendant, when guiding their bearer across the ford, might detach and sink them in the Goyt, when they would be lost for ever. On the early morrow the gay young soldier, having taken leave of his lady-love, hastened upon his mission; the old retainer, who was nothing loth to speed the parting guest, accompanying him towards the river, but, giving a somewhat free interpretation to his instructions, concluded that if it was desirable to get rid of the letters it might be equally desirable to get rid of their bearer, and so, instead of conducting him to the ford, he led him to the deepest part of the river, which had become swollen with the storm of the previous night. The young cavalier plunged into the stream, and in an instant both horse and rider were swept away by the surging flood. Miss Bradshaw witnessed the act of treachery from the window of her chamber, but was powerless to prevent the catastrophe. She saw the fatal plunge, gave one long piercing shriek, and fell senseless to the ground. Reason had for ever left her.

Such is the legend that has floated down through successive generations, and still obtains credence with many of the neighbouring villagers, who, with a fondness for the supernatural, delight to tell how the shade of the hapless maid of Marple is sometimes seen lingering at nightfall about the broad staircases and corridors of what was once her home, or, as the pale cold moon sheds her silvery radiance on wood and sward, wandering along the grassy margin of the river and by the deep dark pool where her lover lost his life. Mr. Leigh has made the incidents of this tradition the basis of one of the most pathetic of his recently-published Cheshire ballads. Another writer on Marple has, however, given a different version. He says the lady was Miss Esther Bradshaw, and that her lover was “Colonel Sydenham, the Royalist commander,” whom she ultimately married. It is a pity to spoil so pretty a story, but strict regard for prosaic fact compels us to avow our disbelief in it, and that for a twofold reason—(1) that Colonel Sydenham was not a “Royalist,” but had been an active officer during the war on the Parliament side; and (2) that Colonel Bradshaw never had a daughter Esther. The story so circumstantially related rests, we believe, on no better foundation than the once popular though now almost forgotten romance of “The Cavalier,” written under the nom de plume of Lee Gibbons, by Mr. Bennett, of Chapel-en-le-Frith, some sixty years ago.

Henry Bradshaw, the Parliamentarian soldier, as the eldest surviving son, inherited the family estates, while John, his younger brother, was left to push his fortunes as best he could. Possessing much natural shrewdness and ability, with no lack of energy and self-confidence, he was content with the position, strong in the belief that

The world’s mine oyster,

and in the bitter struggle between monarchy and democracy he was quick to avail himself of the opportunities which tended to his own wealth and aggrandisement.

He first saw the light in 1602, but the exact place of his birth has not been ascertained. In an article in Britton and Brayley’s “Beauties of England and Wales,” believed to have been written by Watson, the historian of the Earls of Warren, it is stated that he was born at Wyberslegh; but Mr. Ormerod, in his “History of Cheshire,” doubts the probability of this, “inasmuch,” he says, “as the family only became possessed of that seat by the marriage of his elder brother Henry with the daughter of Mr. Wells,” but this, if we may venture to differ from so deservedly high an authority, must be an error, for Wyberslegh, which had for many generations been appendant to the hall of Marple, was in the occupation of his father or grandfather when the Marple property was purchased by them in 1606; it is not unlikely, therefore, that the younger Bradshaw was residing at Wyberslegh at the time of his son John’s birth. His baptism is thus recorded in the Stockport register:—

1602. Dec. 10. John, the sonne of Henrye Bradshawe, of Marple, baptized.

At a later date some zealous Royalist has written in the margin the word “traitor.” It has been said that his mother died in giving him birth. This, however, is not strictly correct, though her death occurred a few weeks after that event, the register of Stockport showing that she was buried there January 24, 1603–4, and her son Francis, who would seem to have been a twin with John, was baptised at the same place three days later.

Of the early life and habits of the future Lord President nothing positively is known. From his will we learn that he received his early classical education at Bunbury, of which school that staunch Puritan, Edward Burghall, afterwards Vicar of Acton, was at the time master; subsequently he was sent to Queen Elizabeth’s Free School at Middleton, in Lancashire, then lately remodelled and endowed by Nowell, Dean of St. Paul’s, and, “as part of his thankful acknowledgment,” he at his death bequeathed to each of these institutions £500 for “amending the wages of the master and usher.” There is a very general opinion that he was at King Edward’s Grammar School in Macclesfield also for a time; though there is no evidence of the fact, this is by no means improbable. Macclesfield was conveniently near to his home, and the school had at that time obtained a high reputation from the ability and scholarly attainments of at least two of its masters, John Brownswerd, “a schoolmaster of great fame for learning,” as Webb says, “who living many years brought up most of the gentry of this shire,” and Thomas Newton, one of the most distinguished Latin poets of the Elizabethan era; and some countenance is given to this supposition by the phrase in his will, “I had part of my educa’con” at Middleton and Bunbury. The Macclesfield school at that time abutted upon the churchyard, and there is a tradition that young Bradshaw, while with some of his playmates, and in a boyish freak, wrote the following prophetic lines upon a gravestone there:—

My brother Henry must heir the land,

My brother Frank must be at his command,

Whilst I, poor Jack, will do that

That all the world shall wonder at.

The authenticity of this production may very well be questioned, for, however ambitious his mind, we can hardly suppose that this young son of a quiet, unostentatious country gentleman could have had the faintest glimmering of his future destiny any more than that his muse was moved by prophetic inspiration.

He served his clerkship with an attorney at Congleton, whence he proceeded to London, and studied for some time at Gray’s Inn, of which learned society he entered as a student for the bar in 1622, and with such assiduity did he apply himself to his studies that in later years Whitelock, in his “Memorials,” bore willing testimony that he was “a man learned in his profession.” Having completed his studies, he returned to Congleton, where he practised for some years, and, taking an active part in the town’s affairs, was elected an alderman of the borough—the house in which he resided, a quaint black and white structure, having been in existence until recent years. In 1637 he was named Attorney-General for Cheshire and Flintshire, as appears by the following entry on the Calendar of Recognizances Rolls for the Palatinate of Chester: “13 Car. I., June 7. Appointment of John Bradshawe as one of the Earl’s attorneys-at-law in the counties of Chester and Flint, during pleasure, with the same fees as Robert Blundell, late attorney there, received.” In the same year he was chosen Mayor of Congleton, an office he is said to have discharged with ability and satisfaction, being, as a local chronicler records, “a vigilant and intelligent magistrate, and well qualified to administer justice.” He certainly cannot be charged with indifference or lack of zeal while filling this position, for the corporation books show that he left his mark in the shape of “certain orders, laws, and ordinances,” he set down “for the better regiment and government of the inhabitants, and the preservation of peace and order.” These regulations, which were of a somewhat stringent character, imposed fines upon the aldermen and other dignitaries who neglected to provide themselves with halberds, and to don their civic gowns and other official bravery, when attending upon their chief, while the “freemen” of the borough were left with little freedom to boast of. It is evident that, Calvinist and Republican though he was, and a Puritan of the most “advanced” school, Bradshaw, even at that early period of his public career, had little liking for the severe simplicity affected by his political and religious associates, the regulations he laid down indicating a fondness for histrionic display and a love for the trappings and pageantry of office. As might be supposed, a small country town, the merry-hearted inhabitants of which were proverbial for their love of bear-baiting and their fondness for cakes and sack, was not a likely place to afford scope for the exercise of the talents of so resplendent a genius, so, seeking a more active sphere, he betook himself to the metropolis, where he continued to follow his profession. The year in which Cromwell gained his great victory at Marston Moor was that in which we find him for the first time employed in the service of the Parliament, being joined (Oct., 1644) with Mr. Newdegate and the notorious Prynne in the prosecution of the Irish rebels, Lords Macguire and Macmahon, before the Commissioners of Oyer and Terminer, which resulted in the rebel lords being condemned and executed.

It is not unlikely that Bradshaw had made the acquaintance of Prynne before he left Congleton, for the year of his mayoralty there was one in which that “pestilent breeder of sedition,” as he was called, after standing in the pillory with Bastwick and Burton, and having his ears clipped, passed through Cheshire on his way to the prison at Carnarvon, making what reads very like a triumphal progress, and creating no small stir among the disaffected Puritans in the county, who regarded the victim of a harsh and unwise persecution as a sufferer for the cause of the true Gospel. His conductors treated him with much leniency—indeed, on the whole, they seem to have had rather a pleasant outing, stopping for two or three days at a time at the principal halting-places, and enjoying themselves when and where they could. At Tarporley, Tarvin, and Chester the offender was admitted to the houses of his friends, and received visits from some of the more notable of the anti-Royalist faction in the city and county, a procedure which drew down upon him the episcopal wrath—Bridgeman, the Bishop, being greatly scandalised at the idea of the “twice-censured lawyer and stigmatised monster,” as he called him, being entertained in his own cathedral city “by a set of sour factious citizens.” The complaint, it must be admitted, was not without cause, for it seems the mayor and corporation began to waver in their orthodoxy, and became slack in going to hear sermons at the cathedral, so that the energetic prelate “could not have his eye upon their behaviour” as he desired. Whether this was due to the pleasant and moving discourses of Prynne, or that the sermons at the cathedral were too dry and lifeless to suit the tastes of the Cestrians, is not clear, but to remedy the evil Bridgeman had a brand new pulpit erected in the choir, capacious enough for all the canons to preach in at one time, had they been so minded; and, further, ordered all other preachers in the city to end their discourses before those at the cathedral began, in order that the civic authorities might have no excuse for negligence in their attendance on sound doctrine, as delivered within its walls.

The manner in which Bradshaw conducted the prosecution of the Irish rebels evidently gave satisfaction to his employers, and paved the way to his future advancement; certain it is that, after this time, he is frequently found engaged upon the business of the Parliament. When so employed he was not a pleasant person to encounter, as poor old Edmund Shallcross, the rector of Stockport—the parish in which his boyhood was spent—had good reason to know. For the particulars of this little incident in the life of the future judge, affording, as it does, an interesting side glance of the state of religious feeling in Marple when the Bradshaws were all-powerful, we are indebted to the researches of that indefatigable antiquary, Mr. J. P. Earwaker. It seems there had been a dispute of long standing between the Bradshaws and Shallcross on the vexed question of the tithes of Marple, a circumstance that in itself would no doubt be sufficient to satisfy the rector’s Presbyterian neighbours when in authority that he was “scandalous” and “delinquent.” Be that as it may, on the breaking out of the war Shallcross was turned out of his living, and his property, which included an extensive library, was confiscated. He appealed to the Commissioners of Sequestrations, and among the State papers which Mr. Earwaker has lately unearthed is an interesting series of interrogatories relating to persons in Cheshire suspected of delinquency, the following being the answer to those concerning the parson of Stockport:—

Edward Hill, of Stopforth (Stockport), glazier, knew Mr. Shallcrosse, formerly minister at Stopforth, who about the yeare 1641 refused to lett to farme the tythes of Marple to the townsmen of Marple att their own rates, but offered them the same at such rates as was conceived they might well gaine att. And that aboute two yeares after Articles were exhibited against the said Mr. Shallcrosse for delinquency, who thereupon appealed to the Committee of Lords and Commons for sequestracons, and went severall times to London about the same busines, and was once goeing to have the same heard, and had a convoy of horse of the Parliament’s partye, and some of the King’s partye came forth of Dudley Castle, and (he) then was by them slayne. And this deponent further saith that he was servaunt to the said Mr. Shallcrosse for seaven yeares before his death, whoe did acquaint this examinante that hee had found much opposition by Sergeant Bradshawe, whoe then was solicitor for the Commonwealth.

He also saith that the tythes of Stopforth are reputed to be worth 400li. by the yeare or thereabouts, and saith that hee hath heard generally reported that Sir William Brereton had a power invested in him to place or displace such ministers as were scandalous or delinquents. And he further saith that hee believed if the said Mr. Shallcrosse had complied with the desires of the said Mr. Bradshawe and his father and brother, that the said Mr. Shallcrosse would not have been sequestrated.

Bradshaw’s next step in advancement was in 1646, when, on the 6th October, the House of Commons appointed him, in conjunction with Sir Rowland Wandesford and Sir Thomas Bedingfield, Commissioners of the Great Seal for six months, an appointment that was, however, overruled by the House of Lords. From this time his rise was rapid, honours and emoluments seeming to crowd upon him. On the 22nd February following both Houses voted him to the office of Chief Justice of Chester, an appointment that would amply compensate for the disappointment he had experienced in Lord Derby’s previous refusal to bestow on him the vice-chamberlainship of the city. On being relieved of his office as one of the Commissioners of the Great Seal, he was named (March 18, 1647) as one of the judges for Wales, an office he appears to have held conjointly with his post at Chester. Three months later we find him again associated with Prynne, the two, with Serjeant Jermyn and Mr. Solicitor St. John, being appointed by the Parliament to conduct the proceedings against the intrepid Judge Jenkins, who, when impeached of treason before the Commons, not only refused to kneel at the bar of the House, but had the temerity to call the place “a den of thieves.”

On the 12th October, 1648, as we learn from Whitelocke, Parliament, in accordance with a recommendation of the Commissioners of the Seal, ordered a new call of serjeants-at-law, and Bradshaw’s name is found among those then voted to receive the coif.

It has been suggested by a local writer that, in this, Parliament had an ulterior object in view, the purpose of Bradshaw’s promotion being to secure an efficient instrument for conducting the proceedings against the Sovereign, which were then contemplated. This, however, is extremely improbable, for Parliament, it should be remembered, was averse to any extreme measure, and was, in fact, anxious to come to terms with the beaten King, its agents being at the very time engaged in negotiating with him the abortive treaty of Newport. But Cromwell had determined that Charles’s life should be sacrificed, and the will of the army and its guiding genius had become paramount, for a military despotism was already usurping the powers of the State. The breach between the army and Parliament was widening daily, and the great struggle which was to decide the future destinies of England was at hand. The army, flushed with victory, had returned from the destruction of its enemies; conscious of its own power, it demanded vengeance on the “chief delinquent,” as the King was called, and sent an expedition to the Isle of Wight to seize his person, and convey him to Hurst Castle. Meanwhile, the Commons had discussed the concessions made by Charles, and by a majority of 140 to 104 had decided that they “were sufficient grounds for settling the peace of the kingdom.” Scarcely had the vote been recorded when a decisive blow was struck by the army at the independence of Parliament, for on the following morning, Colonel Pride, at the head of his regiment of foot, and accompanied with a regiment of horse, blockaded the doors leading to the House of Commons, and seized in the passage all those members who had been previously marked on a list as hostile or doubtful, and placed them in confinement, none being allowed to enter the House but the most furious and determined of the known friends to “the cause.”[11] The obnoxious element having been thus effectually got rid of, the sword waved openly over the legislative benches, and the army in effect constituted the government. The next day this remnant of the House—the “Rump,” as it was thereafter designated—rescinded the obnoxious vote, and appointed a day of humiliation, selecting Hugh Peters, Caryl, and Marshall to perform the service. The “purge” of the Commons had secured the certainty of concurrence in the wishes of the army, and accordingly, on the 23rd December, a committee was appointed to prepare charges for the impeachment of the King, and on the 28th an ordinance for his trial was read. In order to give their designs some resemblance to the form and principle of law, the House on the 1st January voted “that by the fundamental law of the land, it is treason for the King of England to levy war against the Parliament and kingdom.” This vote, when sent up to the Lords for their concurrence, was rejected without a single dissentient voice, a procedure that led the remnant of the Commons a few weeks later to declare that “the House of Peers was useless and dangerous, and ought to be abolished.” On the 4th January an ordinance was presented for erecting a new High Court of Justice for the trial of the King, which was read the first, second, and third time, assented to, and passed the same day. The Commissioners named in it included all the great officers of the army, four peers, the Speaker, and principal members of the expurgated House of Commons. The twelve judges unanimously refused to be of the commission, declaring its purpose and constitution to be contrary to the principles of English law; Whitelocke, who had received the coif at the same time as Bradshaw and his colleague Widdrington, two of the most eminent lawyers of the time, also refused to sit on the tribunal. The Commissioners met on the 10th, and appointed Bradshaw, who was absent, their president. It would seem to have been originally intended that he should only take a subordinate part in the business, for on the 3rd January the committee had decreed that Serjeants Bradshaw and Nichols, with Mr. Steel, should be “assistants.” Steel acted as Attorney-General, but Nichols could not be prevailed upon to give attendance.

It is not known with certainty whether Bradshaw was aware of the intention to elect him president of the commission for the trial of the King, but it is more than probable he had been informed of what was contemplated, and he certainly cannot be said to have been averse to the office, for undoubtedly he had resolution and courage enough to decline it had he felt so disposed. He attended the court in obedience to the summons on the 12th, and, when called to take the place of president, after asking to be excused, submitted to the order and took his place, whereupon it was ordered, “that John Bradshaw, serjeant-at-law, who is appointed president of this court, should be called by the name and have the title of Lord President, and that as well without as within the said court, during the commission and sitting of the said court.” Clarendon says that “when he was first nominated he seemed much surprised, and very resolute to refuse it; which he did in such a manner, and so much enlarging upon his own want of abilities to undergo so important a charge, that it was very evident he expected to be put to that apology. And when he was pressed with more importunity than could have been used by chance, he required time to consider of it, and said ‘he would then give his final answer,’ which he did the next day, and with great humility accepted the office, which he administered with all the pride, impudence, and superciliousness imaginable.”