The Strife of the Roses and Days of the Tudors in the West

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Title: The Strife of the Roses and Days of the Tudors in the West
Author: Rogers, William Henry Hamilton
Language: English
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OF THE TUDORS IN THE WEST***

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THE STRIFE OF THE ROSES AND DAYS OF THE TUDORS IN THE WEST.

W. H. HAMILTON ROGERS, F.S.A.,

Author of "Memorials of the West," &c.

Illustrated by Roscoe Gibbs.

"WHAT FAME IS LEFT FOR HUMAN DEEDS
IN ENDLESS AGE?"

Exeter:
James G. Commin, 230 High Street.
London: W. W. Gibbings, 18 Bury Street.
M.DCCC.XC.

Torquay:
Printed by Shinner & Dodd.
M.DCCC.XC.

PREFACE

The subjects described in the following pages, have been chosen from
among the almost unlimited number that present themselves to notice,
during the stirring periods in which they are included, as they
appeared to lend interest and variety of incident, illustrative of the
days wherein they occurred. The concluding paper--not originally
written for this series--extends into the era of the early Stuart, and
has claimed admission from the comparatively unique features of its
history.

W. H. H. R.

"THE MIDDLE AGES HAD THEIR WARS AND AGONIES, BUT ALSO INTENSE
DELIGHTS. THEIR GOLD WAS DASHED WITH BLOOD; BUT OURS IS SPRINKLED WITH
DUST. THEIR LIFE WAS INWOVE WITH WHITE AND PURPLE, OURS IS ONE
SEAMLESS STUFF OF BROWN."

_John Ruskin._

CONTENTS.

PAGE

1. "OUR STEWARD OF HOUSEHOLD."
ROBERT, LORD WILLOUGHBY DE BROKE, K.G. 1

2. EXTINCT FOR THE WHITE ROSE.
WILLIAM, LORD BONVILLE, K.G. 37

3. UNDER THE HOOF OF THE WHITE BOAR.
HENRY STAFFORD, 2ND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, K.G. 87

4. UNHORSED AT BOSWORTH.
JOHN, LORD CHENEY, K.G. 118

5. "WITH THE SILVER HAND."
STAFFORD OF SUTHWYKE, ARCHBISHOP, AND EARL 137

6. "THEY DID CAST HIM."
SIR THOMAS ARUNDELL, K.B. 155

7. OF THE IMPERIAL LINE.
THEODORO PALEOLOGUS 183

POEMS.

PAGE

THE MESSAGE OF THE CROSS 24

TAMAR'S FLOW 36

THE MEADOW RANUNCULUS 38

AUTUMNAL HOURS 84

A MOTHER'S SONG 86

SALISBURY SPIRE 117

DISTANT CHIMES 135

BOSWORTH FIELD 136

"THE TRANSEPT OF THE MARTYRDOM" 154

THE FIVE WOUNDS 167

"SICUT PULLUS HIRUNDINIS SIC CLAMABO" 182

THE WELTERING SHORE 189

PALEOLOGUS 196

"EX HOC MOMENTO PENDET ÆTERNITAS" 206

ILLUSTRATIONS.

A GLADE IN OLD SHUTE PARK _William Newbery_ Frontispiece

EFFIGY OF LORD WILLOUGHBY DE BROKE,
CALLINGTON _Roscoe Gibbs_ To face p. 1

THE CHENEY MONUMENT, EDINGTON -- -- 8

EFFIGIES OF SIR FULKE AND LADY GREVILLE,
ALCESTER -- -- 29

TOMB OF THE SECOND LORD WILLOUGHBY
DE BROKE, BEER-FERRERS -- -- 32

BENCH-ENDS, BEER-FERRERS -- -- 33

PRESUMED EFFIGY OF CICELY BONVILLE,
Astley -- -- 37

EFFIGY OF THE EARL OF SHREWSBURY,
WHITCHURCH -- -- 47

EFFIGIES OF LORD AND LADY HARINGTON,
PORLOCK -- -- 48

OLD SHUTE GATEWAY _Photograph_ -- 66

EFFIGY OF THE DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK,
WESTMINSTER ABBEY _Roscoe Gibbs_ -- 77

BENCH-END, LIMINGTON -- -- 80

BENCH-ENDS, BARWICK -- -- 81

DORSET CHAPEL, OTTERY ST. MARY _Photograph_ -- 84

MONUMENT TO THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM,
BRITFORD _Roscoe Gibbs_ -- 87

DISCOVERY AT THE SARACEN'S HEAD INN,
SALISBURY _Saturday Magazine_ -- 109

EFFIGY OF CARDINAL MORTON, CANTERBURY
CATHEDRAL _Roscoe Gibbs_ -- 116

EFFIGY OF LORD CHENEY, SALISBURY
CATHEDRAL -- -- 118

INDENT OF BRASS OF ARCHBISHOP STAFFORD,
CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL -- -- 137

EFFIGY OF SIR JOHN DINHAM, KINGS-CARSWELL -- -- 140

GRAVESTONE OF EMMA, MOTHER OF ARCHBISHOP
STAFFORD, NORTH-BRADLEY -- -- 143

EFFIGIES OF LORD AND LADY BOTTREAUX,
NORTH CADBURY -- -- 147

BRASS OF SIR JOHN ARUNDELL,
ST. COLUMB-MAJOR -- -- 155

REGAL HERALDRY, TEMP. HENRY VIII.,
COWIC, EXETER -- -- 168

BENCH-ENDS, LANDULPH -- -- 183

PART OF THE LOWER SEATS, LANDULPH -- -- 199

PANEL FROM THE GORGES MONUMENT,
ST. BUDEAUX -- -- 204

IMPERIAL ARMS OF GREECE
(PALEOLOGUS MONUMENT) 206

PORTRAIT 206

[Illustration: EFFIGY OF ROBERT, LORD WILLOUGHBY DE BROKE, K.G.
CALLINGTON CHURCH, CORNWALL--A.D. 1502.]

"OUR STEWARD OF HOUSEHOLD."

At somewhat more than halfway distance between Weymouth on the skirt
of the Atlantic, and the good old city of Bristow by the Severn sea,
on the thin iron line that crosses the wide end of the western
peninsula between those places,--and which in the early days of
railway enterprise was cleverly, but of course futilely, stretched as
a boom, designed to 'block' all further extension westward,--and just
inside the county of Wilts, lies the quiet little town of Westbury.

The station itself is somewhat "larger and more commodious" than
common. A two-fold reason accounts for this, one, that of its being
the junction of another line that departs hence for Salisbury, and
secondly the nature of the industry that meets the eye from the
platform, and is in its way unique in these parts. This is the
appearance of three towering iron furnaces, with attendant rows of
coke ovens, placed on an eminence just outside the station yard;
busily smelting the iron-stone that is quarried from a large
excavation on the opposite side of the line, and which passes under
the railway proper in mimic trains, pulled by a tiny locomotive up to
the great glowing bastions, there to be speedily devoured and purified
into 'pigs' of the best quality.

A very English sight indeed you will say. Yes, certainly if we were in
some of the northern localities of this mineral-saturated island of
ours, but strange in its isolated appearance among the bucolic
characteristics of the southern portion of it, and moreover here, at
least, a development in its way peculiarly modern. The antient
'staple' of the district is the very primeval one of the manufacture
of woolen cloth, which has existed for centuries, is still
considerably followed, and enjoys all its olden reputation as being
'West of England,' a pass-word for excellence and purity of fabric,
untainted by the admixture of 'shoddy,' characteristic of
north-country production. Westbury in company with her sister towns is
largely interested in the industry.

Our wandering to-day is not in quest of manufactured products iron or
woolen, but of a nature that lends a clue to our thoughts which takes
us back to the far past strife of the Red and White Roses, and era of
Bosworth, and of the heart-burning that inspired the distich,

"The Rat, the Cat, and Lovell our Dog,
Rule all England under the Hog,"

for the writing of which and presumed sympathy with the Red Rose, be
it remembered, a Wiltshire knight, Sir William Collingbourn of Lydiard
by name, was by the vindictive Richard "caused to be abbreviated
shorter by the head, and to be divided into four quarters,"--and to
search for traces of one of the principal actors, who played a
conspicuous part in the turmoil, for he was probably born, or had his
original habitation close by. Yonder is the town of Westbury with its
factory chimneys and massive church tower in their midst,--below us
the busy railway-station, and immense iron-stone quarry,--in front the
great furnaces. Nothing very suggestive in all this as to our
expedition to find the old home of Willoughby in these parts; he of
the famed circle of the Garter, and first Baron by a name taken from
the little rill of Brooke or Broke, that, outlasting his name and
fame, still flows past the house that he occupied while in the flesh.
Yet it cannot be very far off.

These are our thoughts as we look from the parapet of the bridge that
carries the highway over the railroad below, our steps lead us
northward, and although our local geography ends here, our usual luck
for further guidance is at hand. An old stone-breaker by the wayside
stays his hammer as we pass, to give us the morning's salutation, and
to our respond we add the interrogatory as to our path to an old house
or place called Brooke or Broke, somewhere near. "Brooke-_Hall_ you
mean" said he, with special emphasis on the affix, "I know it well,
follow on for nearly a mile until the road leads into the brook; then
turn into the gate on your right, go through two meadows and you will
see Brooke Hall before you. It is an old antient place, and I have
heard was a grand one once, but it is only a farm-house now."

With due thanks to, and musing on the inextinguishable influence of
tradition, thus continued and wove into the life of our humble but
intelligent informant, we saunter along, until the rippling sound of
water attracts us on our left. Mounting the low ledge that bounds our
path on its other side, at our feet in the enclosure below (locally
termed the Bisse) the Brooke or Broke sparkles along gaily as ever,
and apparently as undiminished as when four centuries a-past, the
knight, whose memories we are in search of, forded its flow. A little
farther beyond, and the lane we have been traversing descends abruptly
into its bed, which forms a continuance of the thoroughfare for a
short distance. Our path diverges through the gate on the right, and
into the green fields.

Here, at once, although much ameliorated to the wants of the modern
farmer, the undulating nature of the ground, the richness of the turf,
and scattered stately trees still lingering about to attest its olden
beauty and importance, we recognize unerringly the well known
characteristics of an antient park, but apparently not of large size.
Traces of a winding road lead on from the lane gate, and stretch
away over a swarded knoll, on the right; with pleasurable steps we
reach the summit of the acclivity, and descry at about another field's
space ahead, the still existing remains of the Brooke Hall of our
trusty informant.

"A grand place once"--we ruminate, recalling the words of the old
stone-breaker, as we halt under the shadow of a tall, massive gable,
buttressed at the angles like a church, and with the original hip-knop
a trefoil on a stalk, still very perfect, and bravely weathering the
sunshine and breeze at its apex. From this gable stretches back a
building ninety feet long with high-pitched roof, and forms one side
of the farm-court. Its further end is joined to a cross-structure of
smaller size, now used as the farm dwelling-house.

Cautiously we push open the large doors of the cow-court and look
inside. This, from no dread of meeting, and having our intruding
footsteps ordered off by the antient knight who once possessed it, but
rather from the undesirableness of making too sudden acquaintanceship
with the vigilant curly-tailed custodian of its precincts eyeing us
from within, and who may not, until properly assured to the contrary,
be quite satisfied with the object of our investigation; but a kindly
word of advice to him, and of welcome to us, from his master close by,
speedily puts everything at ease, and with full permission for
inspection.

Before however we proceed to investigate the old place, we mentally
join company with the famous old itinerant Leland, who came here on a
similar errand, and recall the burthen of his description, when it was
in pristine condition, and still in possession of the Willoughbys.

"There was of very aunciente tyme an olde maner place wher
_Brooke Hall_ is now, and parte of it yet appearithe, but the
buyldynge that is there is of the erectynge of the Lorde Stewarde
unto Kynge Henry the vii. The wyndowes be full of rudders.
Peradventure it was his badge or token of the Amiraltye. There is
a fayre Parke, but no great large thynge. In it be a great nombar
of very fair and fyne greyned okes apt to sele howses.

"The broke that renithe by _Brooke_ is properly caulyd _Bisse_,
and risethe at a place namyd _Bismouth_, a two myles above
_Brooke_ village, an hamlet longynge to _Westbyry_ paroche. Thens
it cummithe onto _Brooke_ village, and so a myle lower onto
_Brooke Haule_, levinge it hard on the right ripe, and about a
two miles lower it goith to _Trougbridge_, and then into _Avon_."

We enter the court yard, and the main portion remaining, which was
probably erected by the Lord Steward, occupies the whole of the left
side. It is a strong substantial building. The front toward the yard
has three doorways having good late-pointed arches, and five two-light
windows of small dimensions. Between the doorways are buttresses. At
first sight, the building seems as if intended for a large hall,
especially from the fine high-pitched roof, and its completeness
inside, having all the old timbers remaining. But it appears to have
been divided off, and formed into apartments, a considerable portion
of the old wood partition-work still remains. It is now used as a
stable, barn, and for other farm purposes. The upper end of this long
building is joined to a cross portion, apparently the better part of
the fabric, but not of large dimensions. This has been modernized to
the requirements of a farm-house, and almost all its antient features
obliterated. The walls are of great thickness, nearly six feet, and at
the end are some later transomed Elizabethan windows, bricked up, and
in a small outhouse below is "T.--1684;" a still later time-mark.

As far as could be observed, what at present remains, appears to be
only a small portion of the original structure, but in which direction
it extended is not certain. Aubrey, the Wiltshire antiquary, writing
in 1650, and who visited Broke about that time, describes it as "a
very great and stately old howse" with "a Hall which is great and
open, with very olde windowes." There was a "canopie chamber," a
dining room, parlour and chapel, and the windows were filled with
coats shewing the armorial descent of Willoughby, which he minutely
describes; and further, the windows "are most of them _semée_ with
_Rudder of a Ship, or_;"--and again he observes "the _Rudder_
everywhere." We had greatly hoped to have enriched our sketch book
with a similitude of one of those rudders, but alas, the most diligent
search and enquiry was vain. Not a fragment of the old glazing
remained, and neither arms, badge, nor device, was to be found
anywhere on the building, sculptured or limned. A small enclosed
garden (now used as a rick-plot), skirted with poplars, on the
opposite side of the court, was the only other noticeable feature
connected with the old place.

Thus much for Broke Hall, said we--retracing our steps over the grassy
undulations--the antient residence successively of Paveley, Cheney,
and Willoughby, all names of knightly renown; aforetime, as well as
now, probably no more apt description could be given of the still
sturdy old fabric, than the itinerant's terse note on this little park
that surrounds it, it was and is "no great large thing," albeit the
"grand one once" of the tradition-burthened mind of our friend the
stone-breaker, and this true enough in its way perhaps also, when
compared with the hovels of the peasantry that then had their stations
near it.

The family of Paveley, the antient owners of Broke, held it as early
as the reign of Henry I. Reginald de Paveley was Lord of Westbury,
succeeded by Walter, and again by Walter Lord of Westbury, in 1255. To
him Reginald, who deceased 1279, and Walter, Sheriff of Wilts 1297,
died 1323, and succeeding him Reginald de Paveley, who died 1347; he
married Alice, widow of John, the second Lord St. John of Lageham,
died 1322. To him John de Paveley, who married Agnes, with issue two
daughters, Joan married to Sir Ralph Cheney, and Alice wedded to Sir
John St. Loe, died 1366. The Paveleys also held considerable
possessions in Dorsetshire, and bore for their arms, _Azure, a cross
fleurie or_.

Cheney, Cheyney, or Cheyne,--originally _De Caineto_--(or query, from
the French _du chêne_, 'of the oak') was also an old and largely
ramifying family, that first came over with the Conqueror, and were
subsequently scattered throughout midland and southern England, from
Kent to Cornwall, their name still surviving as an affix to their
olden possessions in several localities.

A branch appears to have been early settled, and afterward held
considerable station in Devon. "In king Henry III. tyme" says Pole,
"Sir Nicholas Cheyney was lord of Upotery," where he was succeeded by
his son Sir William, of whom the Antiquary continues "at what tyme the
Dean and Chapter of Roane, with consent of the Kinge, and Archbishop
of Roane, granted the same unto ye said Sir William Cheyney, which
they had formerly held of the grant of William the Conqueror."

Sir William Cheney married Felicia, and had issue Sir Nicholas, who
married Elinor, was Sheriff of Devon, 15 Edward II., 1322, and died 3
Edward III., 1330.

To Sir Nicholas succeeded William his son, who married Joan daughter
of William Lamborn. He had two sons, Edmond, who died without issue,
and Ralph.

Sir Ralph Cheney married Joan, daughter and coheiress of Sir John
Paveley of Broke, and died 2 Henry IV., 1401.

Sir William Cheney, his son and successor, married Cicely, daughter of
Sir John Stretch of Pinhoe, Devon, and widow of Thomas Bonville. She
died 14 October, 1430. To him and his lady, Bishop Stafford of Exeter
on 27 Jan., 1400-1, granted license for them to have divine service
performed in their Chapel, "_infra manerium suum de Pinho_." He was
Sheriff of Devon 1408. Secondly he married Joan daughter of John Frome
of Woodlands, Dorset, and widow of Sir William Filliol who died 3
Henry V., 1418. Sir William Cheney died 12 Henry VI., 1434, leaving
two sons Edmond and John.

Sir John Cheney was of Pinhoe. He married Elizabeth daughter of John
Hill of Spaxton, was Sheriff of Devon 12 and 22 Henry VI., 1434-44,
and was succeeded by his son John, four times Sheriff, who married
Margaret daughter of Nicholas Kirkham of Blagdon, and died leaving
four daughters his coheiresses.

Sir Edmond Cheney, of Broke, knt., born 4 Dec., 1401, married Alice
daughter of Sir Humphrey Stafford, knt. "_with the Silver Hand_," of
Suthwyke, Wilts, and Hooke, Dorset, who died 27 May, 1442, and was
buried in the Chapel of St. Anne in the Abbey Church of Abbotsbury,
which he founded;--by his wife Elizabeth who died in 1420, daughter of
Sir John Mautravers of Hooke, knt. Sir Edmond, who died 30 May, 1430,
left two daughters,--Elizabeth, born Nov., 1424, married Sir John
Coleshill, knt., of Duloe, Cornwall, and died about 1492,[1]--and
Anne, born, 26 July, 1428, who married Sir John Willoughby, knt.,
who was killed at Tewkesbury 3 May, 1471. Secondly his wife Alice
married Walter Tailboys, of Newton-Kyme, Yorkshire, by whom she had a
daughter Alianore married to Thomas Strangeways of Melbury, Dorset,
ancestor to the Earls of Ilchester. She died in 1469.

[1] The manor of Tremoderet or Tremedart in Duloe, Cornwall, by
Emmeline or Emma, daughter and heiress of Hiwis, brought it to
her first husband Sir Robert Tresillian, Chief Justice of the
King's Bench, who was executed at Tyburn in 1388. In 1391 she
married as her second husband Sir John Coleshill, who procured a
grant of this and other manors forfeited by the Chief Justice's
attainder. Sir John Coleshill, their son, then about twenty-three
years of age, was slain at the battle of Agincourt, leaving an
infant son who died without issue in 1483, being then Sir John
Coleshill, Knt. His only sister Joanna, was thrice married, first
to Sir Renfrey Arundell, a younger son of the Lanberne family,
secondly to Sir John Nanfan, thirdly to Sir William Haughton. The
manor passed from Arundell to St. Aubin, and thence to Sir John
Anstis, Garter King at Arms, who died in 1743 and is buried in
the church, after him to his son who held it, and was also buried
there 1754. "Under an arch in Duloe Church," says Lysons, "richly
ornamented with vine tracery, is an altar tomb, enriched with
shields in quatrefoils, having at the west a bas-relief of the
Crucifixion; on this tomb lies the effigies of a knight, carved
in stone, in plate armour with collar of S.S. Round the verge of
a large slab of Purbeck marble, on which it rests is the
following inscription,

=Hic jacet Joh'es Colshull miles
quo'd'm d'n's de Tremethert et patron' huj's eccl'e
qui obiit xviii die m'es m'cii an'o D'ni Mill' cccclxxxiii
cuj' a'ie prop'ciet' Deu' a'="

Thus at the death of these brothers, the name of Cheney in the
Devonshire branch became extinct.

A long genealogical digression this, but only the necessary putting
together a portion of the skeleton of our little history, which we
hope to clothe eventually with something of living interest. Our path
has led us back again to the elevated platform of the railway bridge,
and also at a mile's distance before us, the old town of Westbury, in
which, says Leland, "there is a large churche, and the towne stondith
moste by clothiers" appears dimly among the trees,--and its
characteristics of to-day still accurately confirm the itinerant's
description of three centuries ago. There, rises the lofty church
tower much as he witnessed it, but the tall chimney shafts that bear
it company have absorbed all the hand-looms that then made busy, by
the weaving of kersey and serge, the cottage precincts when he paced
its streets.

Through the long, and comparatively quiet main thoroughfare of the
little borough, and our thoughts are busy, though our steps are
stayed, as we halt to admire the large and handsome west window of the
church, perpendicular in style, but with considerable originality of
treatment in design; and rising behind it, the massive proportions of
the tower.

Here we hope to find some memorials of Paveley, Cheney or Willoughby,
for our historic memory recalls to us, that within the fabric there is
a Chantry which was formerly attached to Broke Hall, and that its
windows were said to be filled with _rudders_ as at their old seat.
Our foot crosses the porch threshold, and with intuitive direction
leads us at once to the east end of the south aisle, where some
apparently well-preserved old oak screen-work, partition off what we
rightly divine was the Broke Chantry. But as we draw near a vision of
ominous newness, windows flaming with colour, and garish decoration of
costly kind spread over every part, puts to the rout at once all hope
of anything antient being found within it; and we learn that the
Chantry has been recently elaborately 'restored' as a memorial chapel
to the present owners of Broke, whose family have held its possession
for about a century.

We scan the enclosure minutely, but not a vestige of sculpture or
inscription, nor stray _rudder_ in the windows, was visible to
identify its olden founders, and whether any such had ever existed
within it, could not be ascertained. Foiled in our examination of the
Chantry, we proceed to look carefully over the whole of the spacious
interior of the edifice, but the search is vain.

There is yet one chance left, friend of mine, peradventure some stray
shield or badge memorizing these antient families may be found
outside. Slowly we perambulate the exterior of the structure, and were
just preparing to leave the churchyard precincts altogether
vanquished, when on the right dripstone termination of the label of
the doorway-arch of the little porch at the base of the west window,
there on a small shield very much denuded and weather-worn, we trace
the _four fusils in fess_ of Cheney, with the ghosts of _the
escallops_ faintly visible in their centres. On the shield to the left
is the indistinct outline of _a bird_ of some kind.

In his notice of Westbury church, Aubrey remarks:--

"In an aisle, north of the chancel where nothing remains of the
old glass, tradition is that two maydes of Brook built it
(probably Alice and Joan coheiresses of Sir John Paveley (1361)
of Brook,--the one married Sir John St. Loe, the other Sir John
Cheney). In a chappelle south of the chancell, are left in one
windowe some _Rudders of Ships_ or the cognizance of the Lord
Willoughby of Brook. In an aisle north of the tower, called
Leversidge aisle, were these two escutcheons now gone,
viz.--Cheney impaling Paveley, Cheney as before impaling _a lion
ramp_: quartering _a cross flory_, not coloured."

How surely and regularly history, at least the history of human nature
repeats itself. Our forefathers, as it is often discovered in the
repair or rebuilding old churches, did not scruple when alteration or
enlargement of the fabric was needed, to break up the gravestones, or
coffin-lids, of their predecessors, this also at the period when a
religious thrall exercised its full power over them, while at the same
time it encouraged the laying down similar memorials to those they
were destroying. In a succeeding age when this influence had lost its
spell, and greedy, selfish ends, had absorbed, or stifled completely
such traces as remained, a remorseless and almost revengeful
desecration followed, buildings were razed, monuments ruthlessly
defaced or destroyed, and sepulchres violated, as if those who had
left them such interesting and sacred heritage, had been a succession
of malefactors deserving the utmost reprobation and contempt. The
great despoliation over, the same spirit of heedless, callous
unconcern, although in lesser degree, has shewn itself as largely
existent through the succeeding centuries, down to these later times
of pseudo-ecclesiastical revival, which in too many instances
continues to exhibit in a still more exaggerated form, all the latent
traits of thoughtless destruction, that had its place in days of old.

Thus much for our investigation of Westbury church and its garishly
garnished Chantry, but before we leave this part of the world, we have
another interesting structure to visit, where, if we mistake not, a
most important memorial concerning the antient lords of Broke Hall is
to be found.

Our steps lead us out of Westbury by the north west, and passing along
under the great White Horse, boldly figured on the high hill by our
right, and through the village of Bratton, a turn in the road a short
distance beyond, brings us at once in full view of the large and
antient Conventual Church of Edington. It is no province of ours here,
to describe the great architectural attractions of this fine and still
well-preserved fabric, but a glance at the uniquely-shaped tower
windows, gives us a clue to what we may expect to find within, for the
tracery in their heads, have an unmistakable resemblance to a _cross
fleurie_, or rather _recercelée_ would best describe its shape, the
coat-armour of the family of Paveley.

Entering the church by the south porch, a survey of the south aisle
arcade, brings the eye at once to the memorial we are in search of.

The monument is under the second arch of the nave, west of the
transept, in the south aisle. It consists of a high tomb with canopy,
flanked by an entrance-doorway forming part of one composition,
extending the whole breadth of the arch. This was originally one of
the enclosing screens of a Chantry, the other two, east and west,
dividing it from the aisle having been removed. In the wall of the
aisle opposite the tomb, is a two-storied piscina, which was formerly
within the area of the Chantry, and against the east division
doubtless stood the antient altar.

The cover-stone of the tomb is Purbeck marble, and on it are the
indents of a knight and lady, but not of large size. The knight's head
appears to have rested on a helmet with lambrequin, and an animal was
at his feet. The lady in long robe and head on a cushion. Two shields
were above their heads, and two more below their feet. There was no
ledger-line.

Below the tomb are traceried panels with shields in their centres, on
them is carved these arms:--1. _A rudder._--2. _Four fusils in fess,
each charged with an escallop_ (CHENEY).--3. _Four escallops, two and
two_ (ERLEIGH?). These charges are exactly repeated on both sides.

The canopy is of square form, flanked by buttresses pinnacled on their
faces, and the groining within shews five fan-traceried pendants. At
the east end is a large niche, the west is open. The doorway is
surmounted by a rich ogee crocketted canopy with finial, and is
panelled above.

A continuous cornice surmounts both tomb and doorway, of vine foliage
and mouldings, crested originally by the Tudor flower, only a part of
which now remains. It is broken on each side by four angels holding
shields. On the north side are two single angels supporting the arms
of Cheney, at the west corner are two angels holding a larger shield
quarterly of four:--1 and 4 (CHENEY); 2 and 3, _a cross fleurie_
(PAVELEY). On the south side the single angels display the arms of
Paveley, and the pair at the end Cheney impaling Paveley. Over the
inner doorway _the rudder_ is again carved--here at Edington its
earliest appearance.

In the churchyard, near the porch, is a large broken Purbeck marble
stone, probably removed from the pavement of the Chantry within.
On it are the indents of a knight, and lady in horned head-dress,
under an ogee crocketted canopy, flanked by pinnacles, evidently of
contemporary date with the tomb. Above the figures are two shields,
below their feet the space is powdered with scrolls, and a ledger-line
enclosed the whole.

[Illustration: CHENEY MONUMENT, EDINGTON CHURCH, WILTSHIRE.]

As usual with influential families resident near large ecclesiastical
foundations, and having considerable landed property in the district,
the Paveleys, who were the Lords of Westbury Hundred, were doubtless
largely connected with the welfare of the Monastery, and as liberal
donors toward the building of the Abbey Church. The armorial story
told on the tomb, points to its being the memorial of Sir Ralph
Cheney, who married Joan, one of the daughters and coheiresses of Sir
John Paveley, and succeeded in her right to Broke. He died 2 Henry
IV., 1401. The great William of Edington, consecrated Bishop of
Winchester, 1345, and afterward Chancellor and Treasurer to King
Edward III., was born here, and became a considerable benefactor to
the village and Monastery. His surname has not been recovered, but
surmised to have been Cheney,--at any rate in a deed dated 1361, the
Bishop is described as "guardian of the heiresses of Sir John
Paveley,"--and one of these, Joan, as we have observed, married Sir
Ralph Cheney, and as a consequence with great probability she found
sepulchre here with her husband, in their Chantry in the Abbey Church.

Back to the railway station again, and a place among the cohort of the
iron horse, for a long journey is before us, even from the open,
breezy chalk-plains of Wiltshire, to the marge of the majestic Tamar
in westernmost Devon, and the granite-bouldered precincts of east
Cornwall, where we hope to get further clue to the haunts of
Willoughby when in the flesh. Here, we are leaving what was probably
his first home and earliest associations before ambition dawned on his
future path; there, we shall visit his later possessions when the sun
of fortune had shone on him, and he basked in its rays of honours and
wealth. There also our pilgrimage will eventually lead us to that last
house, the which he in common with earth's humblest denizen must
share.

Before, however, we proceed further on our way to what we may term his
second home, it behoves us to say something anent the antecedents and
coming of the knight himself, and how the name of Willoughby
originally became located in the west country. Like many a younger son
rejoicing in a titled extraction, coupled with probably only a slender
portion of the family patrimony, the wooing of a distaff--who, beside
let us hope, being endowed with her full share of love's talisman,
personal attractions, enjoyed also the further potent charm of being
an heiress to boot--brought the father of our knight from the fens of
Lincolnshire to the distant altitudes of Wilts, and in winning the
hand of Anne Cheney for a wife, subsequently became in her right the
Lord of Broke. A similar errand sent his son away to the boundary line
that divides Devon from Cornwall, and with the well-dowered Blanche
Champernowne of Beer-Ferrers for his helpmate, there to find his
future home, and where we propose to look for him again, after we have
gossiped over his lineage awhile.

In common with many of our old titled names, Sir John de Willoughby
its first possessor in this country was a Norman knight to whom the
Conqueror gave the manor of Willoughby in Lincolnshire.[2] His
descendant Sir William in the reign of Henry III. married Alice
daughter and coheiress of John Bec or Beke of Eresby, summoned to
Parliament as Baron Beke of Eresby 1295-6. He was succeeded by his son
Robert, who inherited at the decease of his grand-uncle Anthony Beke,
Bishop of Durham, the great possessions of that prelate, and 7 Edward
II., was summoned to Parliament as Baron Willoughby de Eresby.

[2] Burke.

His great-grandson was Robert, fourth Lord Willoughby; he married
first Alice daughter of Sir William Skipwith, and secondly Margaret
daughter of William, Lord Zouch, who died in 1391.[3] His third son
Sir Thomas by Alice Skipwith, married Elizabeth daughter of John de
Nevill, Lord Nevill of Raby, and Elizabeth Latimer his second wife,
only daughter of William, fourth Lord Latimer of the first creation,
who died in 1388. Sir Thomas was succeeded by his son Sir John
Willoughby, who married Joan Welby, described as an heiress, and their
son was the Sir John Willoughby, who married Anne daughter of Sir
Edmond Cheney, of Broke, Wilts; whose son was Sir Robert Willoughby,
the first Lord Willoughby de Broke, and subject of our little memoir.
There were three other sons, William of Turners-Piddle, Dorset, who
died in 1512, and was buried at Bere-Regis; Thomas, who married Isabel
Bedyke of Silton, Dorset, died 1523, and ordered his body to be buried
in the church there; and Edward, Dean of Exeter Cathedral, and Canon
of St. George's, Windsor, who died in 1508. Also two daughters,
Cicely, Abbess of Wilton, who died in 1528, and Elizabeth, married to
William Carrant, of Toomer in Henstridge, Somerset.

[3] The fine and almost perfect memorial brass of this lady is in
the chancel of Spilsby church, Lincolnshire. She is habited in
cote-hardie with mantle over, crenulated head-dress with
coverchief, two dogs with collars and bells at her feet, her head
rests on richly embroidered cushions. On the ledger-line is this
inscription,

=Hic jacet Margeria que fuit uxor Roberti de Wylughby de Eresby
que obiit xviij die mensis Octobris an'o d'ni mill'imo ccc
nonagesimo p'mo cui' a'ie p'p'ciet' deus=

and these arms: 1. MORTIMER.--2. UFFORD and BEC quarterly, as
borne by Lord Willoughby de Eresby.--3. Ros.--4. Wells.--5.
Bohun.--6. Zouch.--7. Beaumont.--8. Willoughby impaling Zouch. At
the angles are the emblems of the four Evangelists. There are also
two other splendid figures, probably the succeeding baron and his
lady, in the same chancel.

Thus far for the coming of the knight; our next care will be to trace,
as far as means available enable us, his progress and actions during
the eventful days in which he lived. The strife between the contending
factions of the Red and White Roses, in his younger years was strongly
predominant, and so thoroughly had the fierce rivalry for supreme
power permeated society, that probably it was almost impossible to
remain neutral, while men so blindly, yet withal so devotedly, risked
their lives and fortunes in partizanship with the contending claimants
of the divine right. To choose a side was an absolute necessity,--

"Under which king, Bezonian? speak or die!"

was the question of the hour, and had to be answered with all its
contingent risk. In the west country the adherents of the Red Rose
seemed to have the preponderance, the detestable craft and cruelty of
Richard III. doubtless had its effect of estranging from sympathy with
him, all except just those who were allied to his rule by the hollow
tie of self-interest, and the usual glamour of adhering to the powers
that be, no matter how arrived at or constituted, or what its actions
were.

The first important social function we find Sir Robert Willoughby
discharging, is that of Sheriff of Devon, 21 Edward IV., 1481, being
the year preceding the one in which his friend Sir Giles Daubeney held
the same office. And then, in harmony with the prevailing distracted
state of public affairs we have described, we next observe him in
active sympathy with the claims of the Red Rose, and consequent
enlistment in the cause of Richmond of York, in the company of
a large number of west country gentlemen, the Marquis of Dorset
(representative of Bonville), Giles Daubeney, the Courtenays, John
Cheney, Walter Hungerford, and others, in their rising and march to
Salisbury, in order to effect a junction with, and aid the movement in
Wales of the ill-fated Duke of Buckingham, in 1483. But the
extraordinary swollen state of the Severn--"an inundation so
remarkable that for a hundred years afterward it was called the _Great
Water_, or _Buckingham's Water_, said to have lasted ten days, and
that men, women, and children were carried away in their beds by the
violence of it"--placed a barrier between their forces from effecting
a junction, leaving the unfortunate Stafford in Richard's power, who
forthwith consigned him to the scaffold at Salisbury, and sent Sir
Robert and his companions in speedy flight to the south coast, and
thence 'beyond seas' over to Richmond in Brittany, thereby escaping a
similar sanguinary fate, which would have been remorselessly meted out
to them. For this defection his lands were seized, and Broke and
Suthwyke were bestowed by Richard on his favourite Sir Richard
Radcliffe.

Our clue as to his movements, for a short time, becomes one of surmise
rather than of actual proof. At the dispersal of Buckingham's
followers, Sir Robert and his attainted companions fled to Brittany,
and he remained probably with them at Vannes or the neighbourhood,
until the Earl of Richmond set out on his final expedition from
Harfleur to Milford-Haven. This he doubtless accompanied, although no
special mention is made of his name, nor as to his taking part in the
engagement at Bosworth, where however he must have been present from
circumstances that followed. Dugdale says "he was a successful sharer
in the benefit of that great victory," another thing to that of
sharing its danger.

A much more important event however, identifying the presence of Sir
Robert at Bosworth, or immediately near, and shewing the confidence
the victor placed in him, was Richmond despatching the knight, the day
after the battle, and before Henry left Leicester, with a detachment
of horse to the castle of Sheriff-Hutton in Yorkshire, to convoy the
unfortunate Earl of Warwick (son of the Duke of Clarence and nephew of
Edward IV.), then a prisoner there, to the still safer and more
dangerous custody of the Tower of London, only to emerge eventually
from thence to his death on the scaffold.

This mission is thus described by the old chronicler Hall. Henry in
order

"to obsist the first likely mischiefe, sent before his departure
from Leycestre Sir Robert Willoghby knight to the maner of
Sheryhutton in the County of Yorke for Edward Plantagenet Erle of
Warwike sonne and heire to George Duke of Clarence then beyng of
the age of xv yeres, whom Kyng Richard had kept there as a
prisoner durynge the tyme of his vsurped reigne. Sir Robert
Willoghby accordynge to hys commission receaved of the conestable
of the castle the Erle Edward, and him conueighed to London,
where the youngelynge borne to perpetual calamitie was
incontynent in the towre of London putt under safe and sure
custody."

The circumstances connected with the inveiglement of this poor
boy,--who for fifteen out of the twenty-four years he had lived, had
been a close prisoner, and so shut out from all knowledge of the outer
world, that he was said "not to know a goose from a capon,"--into a
confession of complicity with Perkin Warbeck's attempt, and then his
barbarous murder,--for it was nothing less,--on Tower Hill, is one of
the darkest of the many selfishly revengeful crimes that stain with
indelible cruelty the reign of the first Tudor king, as the equally
detestable slaying of the lad's aged sister the Countess of Salisbury,
in 1541, appals by the horror of its incidents, the second. "The truth
was," says Rapin, "the real crime that cost him his life, was his
being the last male heir of the house of York." He was beheaded 14
Nov., 1499, and Sir Robert lived to witness the wretched fate of the
noble youth he had four years previously brought a captive to London,
and in his death the extinction of the hope of the White Rose.

At the conclusion of Henry's first Parliament in 1485, in company with
his friend Sir Giles Daubeney, Sir Robert had the honour of the
peerage conferred on him, by the title of BARON WILLOUGHBY DE BROKE,
but the writ of summons does not appear to have been issued until 12
August, 1492. About the same time he was constituted one of the king's
Privy Council. In 1489, he was created a Knight of the Garter, being
the two hundred and forty-fourth on the roll of that noble order.

Lord Willoughby de Broke's first important public function appears to
have been his despatch from Portsmouth by Henry, with an army "to the
number of eight thousand choice men and well armed, who, having a fair
wind, in a few hours landed in Brittany" in March, 1489, professedly
to protect at her own proper costs and charges the girl-duchess Ann,
then about twelve years old, from the aggression of the French king,
Charles VIII., who was encamped with a hostile force within her
territory, but which province he eventually added to his kingdom,
together with the hand of its young mistress.

Here he remained in inglorious ease until November, when the little
army, with the exception of the five hundred left to occupy the
"cautionary towns" until payment for the expedition was made,
returned; during which time, and for a considerable portion of the
year ensuing, a game of dissimulation and feints at fighting was
carried on between the three monarchs, Henry, Charles, and Maximilian,
practically over the destiny of the young Duchess.

Then the scene of this playing at war shifts suddenly from Brittany to
Flanders, where the subjects of Maximilian--the proxy husband of
Ann--at Ypres and Sluys were in open revolt, respecting "an
unpalatable edict concerning coin," and to aid whom Charles VIII. had
sent Marshal d'Esquerdes with large succours of help, thus attacking
the would-be bridegroom and his child _fiancée_, on each side, and at
once; a game that proved successful in the end.

Maximilian in his turn sent ambassadors over to the wary calculating
Henry, then holding the scales between the monarchs, as he was at the
same time also engaged in negociations with Charles, who was
procrastinating and not intending to give any definite answer, nor but
little frightened at Henry's preparations, as he was well assured
within himself how matters would eventually terminate.

Henry was however seriously annoyed at the French king's
dissimulation, and despatched with all speed a little expedition of a
thousand men over to Calais, the command being entrusted to the Lords
Morley and Willoughby de Broke. Lord Daubeney was at that period
Governor of Calais, and to this force he added another thousand men,
drawn from the garrisons of Calais, Hammes, and Guisnes; and they had
"secret instructions to aid Maximilian and raise the siege of Dixmude"
where the citizens, soldiers, and their allies were encamped. The
English soldiers appear to have stolen an effective surprise upon the
Flemings and their French allies in the night, for they had apparently
no idea of the attack, and routed them with great slaughter, said to
have been eight thousand in number, while only a hundred or thereabout
of the English were killed, a statement to be received with caution,
as Lord Morley, Sir James Tyrrell, Captain of Guisnes, Sir Humphrey
Talbot, Marshal of Calais, Sir Gilbert Talbot, and others, were among
the slain. The pursuit over, the English army retired to Newport,
where Marshal d'Esquerdes appears to have followed and attacked them
without result. As this was the first touch of real hostilities, such
as they were, between Henry and Charles, for the time it "bred a great
coldness" between the belligerent monarchs.

But the coldness did not last long, and meanwhile a complete tangle of
matters enveloped these three royal players, over the destiny of their
hostage the girl-princess of Brittany, secretly wedded by proxy to
Maximilian, practically a prisoner in her little kingdom, unprotected,
and in the eyes of the French king a very desirable alliance for him,
and so incorporate that province under the crown of France, of which
nation it formed an integral portion. Ambassadors came over from the
Duchess to sound Henry's intentions of protection toward her, others
were despatched across in February, 1491, to the French king by
Henry, and these were followed again by further ambassadors from Ann,
vainly waiting in London for an answer. So things progressed, and
Charles who by his agents was busily plying the young Duchess with his
suit, in his turn amused the English envoys, until he found he had won
her and had the game in hand; then he cut the knot of the difficulty
by marrying her 16 Dec., 1491, and Henry's ambassadors returned
discomfited.

This climax came as a bomb-shell among the great personages.
Maximilian was furious at the loss of his bride, and threatened
immediate invasion of France for so deadly an affront; this however
did not much trouble Charles. What he was most concerned with was the
attitude of Henry who was also greatly enraged, and who, beside openly
boasting he should at once prepare for war against him, was also
influencing Ferdinand of Spain--whose daughter Katharine was espoused
to his son Arthur--to join him in the conflict. Thus France was
threatened on three sides at once, Charles however had little fear of
Maximilian or Ferdinand.

In the meantime Henry had another trouble nearer his door, with the
Scotch, and no settlement appeared to be in view, while the
complication in France continued, the French king being probably
moving behind to prevent. Ambassadors again came over from Charles to
negociate, but Henry who had the ulterior object of getting well paid
for what he was about to do, and the old debt due by Ann of Brittany
discharged, aided by liberal subsidies from Parliament, assembled an
army of twenty-five thousand foot, and sixteen hundred horse, and on
the second of October crossed over to Calais, to make conditions on
his adversary's soil, never meaning to fight, but by show and menaces,
see what he could get.

The conduct of this large flotilla, which arrived at Calais the same
day, was under the command of Lord Willoughby de Broke, as Lord High
Admiral; a notable piece of seamanship for the age, and shewing that
at the time England had a considerable reserve of shipping.

Henry with all the 'pomp and circumstance' of war marched out to
Boulogne, then, instead of fighting, the inevitable ambassadors on
both sides duly met, and a treaty of peace was signed at Etaples on
the third of November. The French king perfectly well knew his
antagonist's mercenary longings, and that himself and his army were
only there to exact the last golden crown possible, for the conclusion
of the matter by monetary consideration was an understanding between
them before Henry left England. So Charles agreed to pay Henry an
immense sum in discharge of his wife's debt, and also another large
amount, arrears of the yearly pension agreed to be paid by Lewis XI.
to Edward IV., his wife's father. Thereon the English king retired
with his army and treasure, or the promise of it, back to London, the
French monarch returned to his young bride at Paris, and the
undisputed possession of her dowry the Duchy of Brittany, and
Maximilian was left to shift for himself. After this manner therefore
ended the war concerning Brittany which began five years before in
1487.

This appears to have been the last foreign service in which Lord
Willoughby de Broke was engaged. We do not find his name among the
generals[4] of the king's army employed in the suppression of the
Cornish revolt at Black-Heath, nor otherwise engaged at home, until
the landing of Perkin Warbeck at Whitsand Bay in September, 1498, when
he held a command in the royal forces under Henry in his march to the
west to meet the plebeian pretender to his crown. Lord Willoughby de
Broke came to Taunton with Lord Daubeney and others commanding the
troops, and after Perkin's return as a captive from Beaulieu, went on
with Henry to Exeter. There the king dealt with the insurgents
personally, many of whom came with halters round their necks sueing
for pardon, and having punished some, to use his own words, "grant
unto the residue generally our grace and pardon, and our
Commissioners, the Earl of Devon, our Chamberlain, and our Steward of
Household, have done, and do daily, in our County of Cornwall."

[4] Lysons says he _was_ one of the Commanders against them.

The 'Steward of Household' was Lord Willoughby de Broke, and he was
peculiarly fitted for the duty, not only on account of his
relationship by property with the County, but also by virtue of his
position as Steward of the Duchy of Cornwall. This was apparently his
last public employment of any note, and probably age was stealing on
him, as he died four years afterward.

Of the offices and honours conferred on him by Henry, we find those of
Lord Steward of the Household, Steward of the Duchy of Cornwall, and
alternately that of Captain-General or Marshal of the land forces, and
as an Admiral of the fleet, in the king's expeditions to France, also
a chief Commander of the forces when engaged at home. He was called to
the Privy Council, created a Baron by writ of summons, and
subsequently elected a Knight of the Garter.

He twice served the office of Sheriff of Devon, in 1481, and again in
1488. Lysons says "in the reign of Henry VII. the mines of silver and
gold (in Cornwall) were leased to Sir Robert Willoughby."

Thus far have we proceeded with Lord Willoughby de Broke's public
services abroad and at home; our next care must be to glance at his
domestic surroundings, and what constrained him to leave his old
ancestral place of Broke Hall amid the breezy altitudes of north
Wilts, and find his way to the sheltered banks by Tamar's marge, in
south Devon. Nothing in any way singular or unusual, simply that
potent cause which has tempted many a young man to stray far away from
his father's roof-tree, brought Robert Willoughby down to
Beer-Ferrers,--the search for a wife,--and the lady he selected was
endowed with one, at least, most attractive charm, eagerly sought
after by mediæval knight--and not altogether lost sight of, by suitors
in these, in some respects not much-improved mercenary, unchivalric
modern days of ours,--she was an heiress, largely dowered with the
home possessions of an antient race, of whom she was there the sole
representative in right of her grandmother, one of three sisters,
coheiresses, its last descendants; while on her father's side she was
also the only survivor of a branch of another of the most
time-honoured names in the county.

Blanche Champernowne was the pleasant name of the distaff that Robert
Willoughby won for his bride. She was the only daughter of John
Champernowne of Beer-Ferrers by Elizabeth Bigbury his wife, which John
succeeded his elder brother Roger who died without issue. He was the
second son of Alexander Champernowne (who died 30 June, 1441), by his
wife Joan, daughter and coheiress of Martyn Ferrers, who, says Pole
"was the last of y^t name of Ferrers, Lord of Beere-Ferrers."
Alexander was son of Sir Richard Champernowne of Modbury, by his first
wife Alice daughter of Thomas Lord Astley, and whose second wife was
Katharine daughter of Sir Giles Daubeney.

The family of De Ferraris or Ferrers, whose 'name and blood' Blanche
Champernowne represented, deserves a short genealogical notice here.
They had from very early date been settled in the parish of Beer, one
part of which, says Pole, "takes his name of ye family of Ferrers, th'
ancient inhabitants, from whence all the Ferrers in Devon and Cornwall
issued." Ralph de Ferrers was its lord in the reign of King Henry II.,
to him succeeded Henry, Reginald, and Sir William who married Isolda
daughter of Andrew Cardinham, leaving issue Sir Roger, Sir Reginald,
and Sir Hugh the ancestor of the Churston descent. Sir Reginald, of
Beer, married Margaret sister and coheiress of Sir Robert le Dennis of
Pancrasweek, and had issue Sir William who married Matilda daughter of
Roger Carminow. They were followed by their son Sir John, who was
succeeded by his son Sir Martyn, who, says Pole, was "the last of that
name of Ferrers, Lord of Beere-Ferrers; a person of great honour and
integrity, one of the principal persons entrusted with the guard of
this shire," corroborated by Risdon, who adds, "he was put in special
trust, with others, for the defence of the sea-coast against the
invasion of the French in King Edward the third's time."

Sir Martyn left three daughters, Elizabeth married to Hugh Poynings,
Lord St. John of Basing, Leva to Christopher Fleming, Baron of Slane
in Ireland, and Jone "to whom the mannor of Beer-Ferrers fell in
porcion" to Alexander Champernowne. Further notices of this family
will occur on our visit to the little sanctuary in the village, which
they appear to have originally built, and wherein several interesting
memorials to them remain. Their allusive arms were, _Or, on a bend
sable, three horse-shoes argent._

Concerning this prettily named heiress Blanche Champernowne and her
family, the prosaic and literal old itinerant Leland, gives us further
notice, and, if his description of her be correct, takes much of the
romance out of it,--

"There was another house of the Campernulphes more auncient,
caullid Campernulphe of Bere. The last of this house left a
doughter and heire caullid Blanche, maried first onto Copestan of
Devonshire, and after devorcid and maried onto the Lord Brooke,
Steward onto Henry the VII, and he had by her a 700 markes of
lande by yere.

"John Willoughby that cam out of Lincolnshire and maried the an
heire general of the Lord (of) Broke, and after was Lord Brooke
hymself, lyeth buried at Hedington, and was a benefactor to that
house. As I remembre, the sunne of this Lord Broke was Steward
of king Henry the VII House, and his son was the third Lord
Brooke of that--. N.B.--and he had a sunne by his firste wife,
and that sunne had ij doughters maried to Daltery and Graville.
He had by another wife sunnes and doughters. The sunnes toward
yong men died of the sweting syknes."

The genealogy is here somewhat confused, but Leland appears to have
been trusting to memory only.

We have made pilgrimage to, and described what remains of the old
ancestral home of the knight in Wiltshire, and our steps next lead us
to the locality of the new one he possessed by right of his wife at
Beer-Ferrers in Devon. Like all places situate on the estuaries of
large rivers such as the Tamar, that are tidal, and fringed by creeks
that run considerable distances inland, Beer-Ferrers on the land side
is only to be reached by a circuitous route from Plymouth, and
therefore we elect the easier and more direct approach to it, by aid
of the iron horse to Saltash, and thence by boat.

The tide is well up, and a pleasant breeze soon speeds us on our way.
We pass the Budshead creek, that extends inland to Tamerton-Foliot,
and are soon opposite a second and somewhat larger opening that runs
up to Maristow, where, at its far end, the sparkling Tavy, fresh from
the granite boulders of Dartmoor, delivereth her waters into the salt
bosom of the lower Tamar. At about mid-distance up the creek on its
northern shore, a small compact village, with a square battlemented
church tower rising in the midst, has its place on the bank that
slopes gently down to the water's edge. Thither we steer our way, and
making fast our little craft to the pier, or 'quay' as these landing
places are locally termed, find ourselves at Beer-Ferrers.

And where shall we discover this new home, you say, that Lord
Willoughby de Broke acquired by right of Blanche Champernowne, and
when in the flesh possessed and resided in, with surrounding park, and
for which mansion or manor-house, his wife's ancestor Sir William de
Ferrers had a license to castellate from king Edward III. in 1337, a
concession subsequently renewed to his widow the Lady Matilda, and
continued to his son Sir John?

Even in Leland's time, immediately after the decease of the last Lord
Willoughby de Broke, it seems to have disappeared, for he notes:--"on
the east side of this creek is Buckland. And on the west side is Bere,
_where the Lord Broke's house and park was_." We believe nothing now
remains to mark its former site but a few undulations in the turf. A
graphic picture of the lawlessness of the era of Lord Willoughby de
Broke's earlier residence at Beer-Ferrers, and the amenities of social
life exhibited between the "bettermost folk" of that district, and
comparatively neighbours also, is shewn in an account preserved among
the muniments of the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe, describing attacks made
on the person, servants and residence of his ancestor Richard Edgcumbe
of Cotehele (M.P. for Tavistock in 1468) by Robert Willoughby of
Beer-Ferrers, and thus described by the Earl to the members of the
Royal Archæological Society in 1876:--

"The document is rather amusing, dated 1470, and is apparently
the rough copy of a complaint or information by this Richard
against Robert Willoughby, who lived across the water at Beer
Ferrers, of injuries done to him at sundry times. This paper
which is remarkable for its wonderful spelling and for the
careful way in which every hostile act is estimated at its money
value, contains no less than thirteen items or charges, each
specifying some distinct outrage on the part of the said
Willoughby and his followers, numbering on one occasion '_three
score persons, in form of war arraied, with jackes, salettes,
bowys, ar'ws, and byelys, who at various times and places
contrewayted the said Richard to have mordered him and with force
of armes made a great affray and assawte upon him and his
servants sometimes to the gret jeperdy and dispayre of his
liff_,' always to his hurt and damage of so many pounds. And on
another occasion attacked Cotehele House itself and carried off a
very miscellaneous collection of articles to the hurt and damage
of the said Richard of a great many pounds; and at other times
took divers of his servants and kept them for a week at a time in
prison at '_Bere Ferrers_,' and '_bete_' and grievously wounded
others, especially one William Frost, to the hurt and damage to
the said Richard of £20 and more. It is a curious fact that
fifteen years later this Willoughby (as Lord de Broke) and
Richard Edgcumbe held high places together in the court of Henry
VII."

Richard Edgcumbe had a narrower escape however from the vengeance of
Richard III., after the suppression of Buckingham's revolt, in which
he was a partizan, being strongly attached to the fortunes of the Red
Rose. A party of armed men in Richard's interest, headed according to
tradition by Sir Henry Bodrugan, otherwise Trenoweth, of St. Gorran in
Cornwall, an adherent of the White Rose, made search for him in his
own beautiful home of Cotehele. Carew describing the event says,

"he was driven to hide himself in those his thick woods, which
overlook the river, what time being suspected of favouring the
Earle of Richmond's party, against King Richard the III., he was
hotely pursued, and narrowly searched for. Which extremity taught
him a sudden policy, to put a stone in his cap, and tumble the
same into the water, while these rangers were fast at his heeles,
who looking downe after the noyse, and seeing his cap swimming
thereon supposed that he had desperately drowned himselfe, gave
over their farther hunting and left him at liberty to shift away,
and ship over into Brittaine: for a grateful remembrance of which
delivery, hee afterwards builded in the place of his lurking, a
Chapell."

After the victory of Bosworth, and Henry was seated on the throne, it
came to Edgcumbe's chance to turn the tables on his adversary, and
this he did most effectually. Tradition further relates, according to
Lysons quoting from Tonkin, that,

"Sir Henry Bodrugan was in arms in Cornwall against the Earl of
Richmond, (Henry VII.) that he was defeated on a moor, not far
from his own castle by Sir Richard Edgcumbe and Trevanion, and
that he made his escape by a desperate leap from the cliff into
the sea, where a boat was ready to receive him, and fled to
Ireland, when all his large estates, including Bodrugan Castle,
described by Borlase "that there was nothing in Cornwall equal to
it for magnificence" were forfeited to the Crown. Most of
Bodrugan's estates, including the manor of St. Gorran (whereon
was the castle) were granted to Sir Richard Edgcumbe, and now
belong to his descendants."

Two very remarkable and almost identically coincident escapes. The
place where he jumped over the cliff at Dodman's Head, is still known
as "Bodrugan's Leap."

Edgcumbe was Comptroller of the Household, and of the Privy Council to
Henry VII., and died returning from an embassy to France, at Morlaix
on his way home, in 1489. Willoughby, Lord de Broke was his superior
officer as Lord Steward of the Household to the same monarch; thus at
Court they were closely associated with each other. Subsequently 22
Henry VII. (1497), Lord de Broke obtained of the king a grant in fee
of the manor of Trethewye in St. Cleer, and all the lands there, part
of the forfeited possessions of Sir Henry Bodrugan, and which were
situate near his other property at Callington. So these worthies
divided the spoil of their unfortunate neighbour.

As it hath happened to us aforetime, in many of our wanderings, in
search of the former earthly habitations of those we were essaying to
bring back to the stage of our thoughts, so also here,--successively
of Ferrers, Champernowne and Willoughby,--all traces of their olden
home have disappeared, and only a site with a name and a tradition
remains to identify where stood their antient dwelling-place.
Therefore our steps lead us back to that hallowed spot, where they, in
common with us all, found their last and final home of eternal rest,
there to seek for such memorials of them as may yet remain.

The church of Beer-Ferrers is an antient structure, the chancel and
transepts of interesting early-decorated character, and but little
disturbed from their original condition. But although used for
parochial worship in the ordinary sense of the word, the little
sanctuary was of old something more than that, being dignified
ecclesiastically as a foundation of collegiate character, and termed
an Arch-Presbytery. Of these somewhat uncommon religious
establishments there were two in Devon, the other being at Haccombe,
founded (about the same time) 1341, by Sir Stephen de Haccombe. This,
at Beer-Ferrers, was founded by Sir William de Ferrers, who having
rebuilt the church was desirous of making it Collegiate. For this
purpose he assigned a sufficient endowment for an arch-priest and four
other priests, who were to live in common under the same roof; and
provision was also made for an assistant deacon, or sub-deacon, or at
least a clerk. The Community were to perform the daily and nightly
office in the church, and to offer up perpetual prayers for the
prosperity of the Founder and his Lady Matilda during their lives, and
for their souls after death. Also for the souls of Reginald de Ferrers
and his wife Margery (parents of the Founder) and the souls of Sir
Roger and Lady Joan de Carminow (parents of his wife) and the bishops
of Exeter living or dead. Bishop Grandison confirmed this foundation
17 June, 1333. The Founder did not long survive his charitable work,
for it is found in that prelate's register (vol. ii., fol. 219) that
his relict and executrix Matilda obtained from the bishop 15 Dec.,
1338, an acknowledgment of having well and faithfully administered to
her husband's property, and that only the sum of twenty pounds
remained in arrear, "_ad completionem cantarie de Biry_." (Oliver.)

A glance into the chancel, although five centuries have flown, brings
us face to face with the Founder and his wife. There--marvellously
preserved--humbly postured on one knee, his glowing tinted
proportions, amid the crimson interlacery, and quarrels of
pale-pencilled leaflets, that fill the east window, arrayed in gilded
chain-mail, silver genouillères and sword-hilt, with the armories of
his race, the dark bend and gleaming horse-shoes traversing both
ailette and surcoat. In his raised hands he bears the offering of a
grand church, having three spires, and over his head runs a legend
that apparently reads "(SYR) E WILL'S FERREYS ME FECIT." Fronting him
in the adjoining light, with hands uplifted in prayer, kneels his wife
Matilda Carminow, in snowy wimple and cover-chief, pink boddice and
sleeves, with the broad bend of her husband's arms embroidered on her
golden robe. The inscription above her head, seems to be confused and
undecipherable. Studding the borders of the lights, interspersed among
other ornaments, are the arms of Ferrers and Carminow, and a grand
escutcheon similarly charged, and encircled with beautiful
green-foliaged ornament occurs below.

Thus much for the history of the foundation of the arch-presbytery as
depicted in the window; immediately beneath on the north side of the
altar, upon a raised tomb of plain character, rest the recumbent
effigies of the Founder and his wife, carved in stone, and habited
almost exactly in duplicate of the figures limned on the glass above.
Over them rises a beautiful pyramidal canopy, cusped below, flanked by
pinnacles rising from the ground, the whole richly foliaged and
finialed. In the upper spandrels are angels swinging censers.[5] But
the peculiarity of this memorial consists in the lower portion of the
canopy being cut through the wall, and opening to the side-chapel or
chamber that adjoins the chancel on that side, where its elevation is
repeated, as in the church, but with much less ornament.

[5] There appears to be only two examples of this fine style of
monument found in the county, the other occurring in the Chapel
of St. James, in Exeter Cathedral.

In the transept, which appears to be coeval with the chancel, in the
east wall is a piscina, and the moulding immediately adjoining, marks
the position of an altar that once had its position there. In a recess
beneath a finely moulded arch at the north end under the window, is
the effigy of a knight in chain-mail and surcoat, with shield, and
hands grasping his sword, cross-legged,--the head raised and supported
on a large bascinet-shaped helmet. The legs are destroyed to the
knees, and of the lion on which his feet rested, only the paws remain.
This figure is of contemporary date with the Founder in the chancel,
with great probability is a Ferrers, and may represent his father, who
was on the bede-roll of the foundation.

Here concludes our notices of the memorials of Ferrers, the first of
the influential families Blanche Willoughby represented. Our next
care, will, if it may be, to note any traces of the equally antient
race that succeeded them at Beer, and gave to her, her maiden name of
Champernowne.

One only, humble but characteristic, remains, now ousted from its
original position in the pavement of the church, to the yard outside,
where it must speedily pass to decay. It is a flat stone, on which is
incised a Calvary cross on degrees, having at the intersection the
Sacred Heart _rayonné_, inscribed with the Sacred Monogram. Below is
this inscription,--

=Hic iacet Roger Champnow'e Armiger
cui' a'i'e p'p'cietur de' ame'=

This was the eldest brother of John Champernowne, to whom he succeeded
at Beer, and uncle to Blanche Willoughby. Roger died 14 November,
1422.

Following these, our investigations naturally carry us on to note such
remembrances of Willoughby as occur in the sacred edifice. There are
several, actual and inferred, but our jottings must be stayed for the
present, as the first memorial to that noble race is found
elsewhere,--and our steps will return here after a while to conclude
them.

Again we have recourse to our little craft, and crossing the bright
Tamar, land on the Cornish side, and thence by a circuitous and
winding lane of considerable length, find ourselves on the high road
about halfway between the old half-maritime, half-inland borough of
Saltash, and the equally antient half-mining, half-agricultural
borough of Callington. As we steadily climb the gentle but continual
ascent that leads to the old tinners' town, a grand and varied
prospect surrounds us. Immediately in front looms the immense
pyramidal mass of Hingston Down and Kit Hill rising over it, in all
near eleven hundred feet above the tidal marge of the blue sea that
gleams behind us, its crest garnished with many a tall chimney stack,
the out-growth of that glamour of wealth so invincibly dear to the
Cornishman's heart, that is always coming, but so seldom arrives, and
whose witchery has been handed down from countless generations even
long before old Leland's foot passed over it, and he made note of it
as "being a hy hylle, and nere Tamar yn the easte part, baryn of his
self, yt it is fertile by yielding of tynne both by water and dry
warkes." Hence the distich,

"Hengston Down well yrought,
Is worth London Town dear ybought,"

but whose smokeless chimneys now stand as the witness-ghosts of the
hundreds of thousands of buried treasure sunk aforetime within its
vast bosom, yet nevertheless rich to a degree in mineral wealth, and
boundless resource of granite and clay of the finest quality, from
which considerable returns have been made. To the right in the far
distance rise the shadowy tors of Dartmoor in successive range,
melting back and merging into the grey realms of cloud-land. On the
left, clear cut into the bright evening sky, appears the magnificent
boldly outlined mass of the Caradons, behind which the sun has just
dipped, and a blue ærial haze of singular beauty and varying density,
stretches down their side and unites them to the broad valley beneath.
We pass the skirt of Viverdon Down, an immense common, susceptible of
better cultivation, but now a fastness for game only, and rough food
for young animals; albeit gay in its appointed season with wealth of
heather and gorse, and, if neglected by man, glorified by the unseen
touch of the Infinite,--

"How full of love must He
In all things be,
Who strews with beauty e'en the waste and wold,
Who gives the moorland lark
His purple heath-bower dark;
The mountain bee, his wilderness of gold."

Quietly continuing our way, a short distance further brings us to the
apex of the ascent, and as we begin to descend, before us is the
'tynner's towne' of Callington, with its granite-built,
expressively-pinnacled church tower rising well above the clustering
houses that surround it.

Here, at Callington, Lord Willoughby de Broke held another large
property by right of his wife as a descendant of Ferrers, and also at
South-Hill, as being himself the representative of the family of
Stafford. Lysons says,--

"The manor of Callington was in the Ferrers family when the
market was granted in 1267 by Henry III.; Joan daughter of Martyn
Ferrers, brought it into the Champernowne family, Lord Willoughby
de Broke became possessed of it by marrying their heiress. It
appears that he occasionally resided, and that he died, at the
Manor-house of Callington, for he directed in his will he should
be buried in the church of that parish in which he should die.
From Willoughby it passed by successive marriages to Paulet,
Marquis of Winchester (who married his grand-daughter Elizabeth),
Dennis, Rolle, Walpole, and Trefusis. At Southill, two-thirds of
the great manor or franchise of Callilond or Kalliland, to which
the church of Southill is appendant, which belonged formerly to
the baronial family of Stafford, and passed by a coheiress to
Willoughby Lord Broke, and now vested in Trefusis."

Where the Manor-house mentioned by Lysons was situate cannot now be
determined, but it is surmised to have been a building, which has long
wholly disappeared, and was called Chickett-Hall, that formed Lord
Willoughby de Broke's residence at Callington, and where he presumably
departed this life. He was patron of the important benefice of
South-Hill, and in its daughter church of Callington he was buried.
But according to Sir R. C. Hoare he died at Wardour Castle, Wilts,
which he had purchased.

Lord Broke made his will 19 August, 1502, and "_ordered his body to be
buried in that parish wherein he should happen to die appointing that
part of the issues and profits of Mitton and Kelmesham, &c., Co.
Worcester, and the Manors of Helmingham, Thorpe-Latimer, Skredyngton,
Heckington, Ledynghall and Swynehead in Com: Lincoln (then lately
belonging to Lord Latimer) should be employed, by the space of twenty
years next after his decease, to the finding of a priest to sing in
the parish church of Hoke in Com: Dorset, for that term, taking for
his salary every year ten marks, and to the relief of fourteen poor
men and women, by the space of the said twenty years, to pray for his
soul, as also for the soul of Blanche his wife, and the souls of his
father and mother_." Probate, 25 December next ensuing. (Dugdale.)

Lord Willoughby de Broke is buried on the north side of the chancel of
Callington church, and his monument--perhaps the finest of its kind in
Cornwall--consists of his effigy recumbent on a high-tomb, both
composed of alabaster. He is habited in complete plate armour, collar
and apron of mail, and broad-toed sollerets, and is armed with sword
and miséricorde. The hands are in gauntlets, the head--which rests on
a helmet--is uncovered, the hair cut short across the forehead, but
flowing by the sides of the face, to the shoulders. The helmet is
mantled, and surmounted by the crest _a Saracen's head affronté,
couped at the shoulders, ducally crowned, and with ear-rings_. The
feet are on a lion, and behind the soles, are two monks, or weepers,
their heads bowed and inclining toward each other, resting on one
hand, with the other they hold a rosary. The Garter appears below the
left knee, and over the armour he wears the Robe and Collar of the
Order, on the left shoulder is embroidered the Shield encircled by the
Riband, the Collar is composed of roses within a garter, and
garter-knots alternate, and from it is suspended the George.

The tomb below is formed of panels filled with rich tracery, having in
their centres shields with carved armorial bearings, and twisted
pillars were at the corners; of these two remain. No inscription is
visible, it was probably only painted on the verge of the
ledger-moulding, but traces of colour and gilding are faintly
discernible on the figure. The effigy is in a fair state of
preservation, but wretchedly disfigured on the surface, by legions of
names and initials, barbarously cut into, and scratched on it.

The shields,--two of which are encircled by the Garter,--are charged
with the arms borne by Lord Willoughby de Broke, as derived from
Willoughby de Eresby with due difference. Quarterly: first grand
quarter 1 and 4, _Sable, a cross engrailed or_ (UFFORD); 2 and 3,
_Gules, a cross moline argent_ (BEC or BEKE), at the intersection _a
crescent for difference_; second, _Gules, a cross patonce or_
(LATIMER); third, _Gules, four fusils argent, on each an escallop
sable_ (CHENEY); fourth, _Or, a chevron gules, within a bordure
engrailed sable_ (STAFFORD). On the styles between the panels appears
the _rudder_, surmounted by the _rose_ of his patron Henry VII.

It is singular that no armorial alliance allusive to his wife appears
on the tomb, but only his own family achievement with its proud
distinguishment conspicuously displayed, finds place thereon. Yet
Blanche Champernowne was an heiress of no mean descent, and richly
dowered also, being the representative of the two very antient races
of Ferrers and Champernowne, west country names of remote descent, and
wide-spread renown, whose property she inherited. The more to be noted
also, as he was presumably buried and his monument occurs in the
church at Callington, whose manor formed a portion of her possessions.
Where Lady Willoughby de Broke was buried does not appear. At
Beer-Ferrers the _horse-shoes_ of Ferrers do find position of equal
consequence with her husband's, but largely super-imposed with the
_rudders_ of Willoughby. Champernowne does not appear in either
church, but on her descendant's tomb at Alcester, both Ferrers and
Champernowne are carefully marshalled among the elaborate heraldic
display.

Stay thy foot, friend of mine, a short while, ere thou passest out of
the sacred enclosure, and scan yon venerable churchyard cross--how
rich is Cornwall in these reminders--slightly leaning, yet hale in the
strength of the almost imperishable granite, and with the age-worn
imagery of the Great Sacrifice, still plainly discernible, insculped
on one of the faces of its pediment. There it was before the
honour-bedizened noble--whose tomb we have been just surveying--found
his way to Callington to enjoy the portion of his great possessions,
situate near it; and who shall say he may not many a time have bowed
his head in silent prayer, and crossed himself reverently at the sight
of its solemn appeal, when in life he passed in front of it, as he
entered the adjoining sanctuary for worship, ere he finally found
therein his grave. And here also it is to-day, speaking the same
eternal lesson to us, who are seeking to gather back from the woof of
the Past, ravelled threads of his memory; and there it will doubtless
be found, when we also are merged into the things that were. Such is

THE MESSAGE OF THE CROSS.

Hoary and worn and frayed,--
Old cross,--
By ruin's hand arrayed,
Time's dross:--
What message never stayed,
Speaks from thy lips decayed?

"Strife of the years is gone,
Not me,--
Drooping, bereft, and lone,
Here see
Pilgrim, by days undone,
Heaven's pleading-still, milestone.

"Ah! many eyes as thine
Have come,
Met this old gaze of mine,
Then home,
Would their glad steps incline,
Bearing my tale divine.

"Where are they now? O say--
No sound,--
Ask the memorials gray,
Around,--
They came again this way,
And down beside me lay."

Lord Willoughby de Broke by his wife Blanche Champernowne, left one
son Robert, his heir, and a daughter Elizabeth, married (as his second
wife) to William Fitz-Alan, seventeenth Earl of Arundel, K.G. who died
in 1543, and was buried at Arundel.

Robert Willoughby, the second Lord Willoughby de Broke, married first
Elizabeth, eldest of the three daughters and coheiresses of Sir
Richard Beauchamp, second Lord Beauchamp of Powyke, who died 1503, by
his wife Elizabeth daughter of Sir Humphrey Stafford, knt.

This marriage of Lord Beauchamp and Elizabeth Stafford, took place in
the private chapel of his manor-house of Beauchamp's-Court near
Alcester, by special license of the Bishop of Worcester.

The manor of Alcester belonged to the Beauchamps. Walter de Beauchamp,
brother to William de Beauchamp, the first Earl of Warwick of that
line, purchased a moiety of the manor, and had one of his seats at
Beauchamp's-Court near that town, the other being at Powyke, in
Worcestershire. His descendant Sir John de Beauchamp, K.G., who was
created Baron Beauchamp of Powyke, 2 May, 1447, by Henry VI. and who
was also Lord Treasurer of England, purchased the other portion of the
manor of Thomas Bottreaux, a representative of the antient Cornish
family of that name, who had held it for several descents. He died in
1478, and at his death left the whole manor to his son and heir,
Richard, the second baron; and he at the marriage of his daughter
Elizabeth with Robert Willoughby, settled its reversion, subject to
his own life, upon her.

By this his first marriage, Robert, the second Lord Willoughby de
Broke had one son Edward. More concerning him presently.

Secondly he married Dorothy, daughter of Thomas Grey, Marquis of
Dorset, K.G.--by his wife Cicely, the heiress of the Lords Bonville
and Harington. By her he had two sons Henry and William (who died
young of the sweating sickness)[6] and two daughters, Elizabeth
married to John Paulet, second Marquis of Winchester who died in 1576,
and Anne wedded to Charles Blount, fifth Lord Montjoy, who died in
1545, son and heir of William, fourth Lord Montjoy, whom her mother
Dorothy Grey subsequently married as her second husband. Of the public
services of this nobleman we hear little beyond his being attached to
the expedition under the command of his father-in-law the Marquis of
Dorset, sent to Spain early in 1512 by Henry VIII. on behalf of
Ferdinand of Arragon, and which returned to England somewhat
ingloriously in the November of the same year. He survived his son
Edward, and gave a considerable portion of his large property to the
daughters of his second wife. He made his will 1 Oct., 1521, and
"_bequeathed his body to be buried in the Hospital called the Savoy,
in the suburbs of London, before the image of St. John the Baptist,
appointing a priest of honest conversation should be provided to sing
and pray for his soul, as also for his wife's soul, and all his
ancestors souls for ever, in the place where he should be buried
taking for his yearly salary seven pounds_." After making bequests to
his illegitimate children, he gives "_to his son Henry, all his
harness, bows, arrows, and all other his weapons defensive, to the
intent he should be therewith ready to serve his prince, in time of
need_." "And departing this life shortly after by a pestilential air
10 Nov. 13 Henry VIII.--1521,--was buried in the church of
Beer-Ferrers." (Dugdale.)

[6] Bacon thus describes the pestilence:--"This disease (Sweating
Sickness) had a swift course both in the sick body, and in the
time and period of the lasting thereof, for they that were taken
with it, upon four and twenty hours escaping were thought almost
assured. It was a pestilent fever but as it seemed not seated in
the veins or humours, for that there followed no carbuncle, no
purple nor livid spots, or the like, the mass of the body being
not tainted, only a malign vapour flew to the heart and seized
the vital spirits, which stirred Nature to strive to send it
forth in an extreme sweat. And it appeared by experience that
this disease was rather a surprise of Nature, than obstinate to
remedies, if it were in time looked unto; for if the patient were
kept in an equal temper, both for clothes, fire, and drink
moderately warm, with temperate cordials, whereby Nature's work
were neither irritated by heat, nor turned back by cold, he
commonly recovered. But infinite persons died suddenly of it,
before the manner of the cure and the attendance were known."

Edward Willoughby, son of the foregoing, married Margaret daughter of
Richard Nevill, second Lord Latimer[7] of the second creation (by Anne
Stafford his wife), who died in 1530. By her he had three daughters,
Elizabeth, Anne, and Blanche. Anne died unmarried, Blanche married Sir
Francis Dautry, knt., and dying leaving no issue, Elizabeth the eldest
was left at length, says Collins,--

"sole heir to the last Lord Broke, her grandfather; also to her
grandmother Elizabeth, eldest of the daughters and coheirs of the
last Lord Beauchamp of Powyke; and thus in her own person, united
the illustrious successions of those two noble families. As the
sole heir to her grandmother, she came to be seized in fee of the
whole manor of Alcester, in consequence of which, letters-patent
of exemplification were granted 3 Elizabeth, to her then a widow,
confirming all the grants of fairs, markets, &c., made in the
time of her ancestors. And as the sole heir of her grandfather,
it appears by an inquisition taken after her death, that she died
seized in fee, not only of the manor of Alcester, but of sundry
other manors and lands, in the counties of Warwick, Worcester,
Lincoln, Leicester, Somerset, and divers others; the whole
amounting to so great a value, that she might well have been
esteemed one of the richest heiresses of her time, as well as one
of the best descended."

[7] Memorable also is this Richard, Lord Latimer, for the dispute
he had with Robert, Lord Broke, touching the Barony of Latimer;
to which as next heir in blood to John, Lord Latimer of Danby,
who died without issue 9 Henry VI., he claimed a right. But to
end the contention the Lord Broke was informed by an herald, that
Sir George Nevill, grandfather to Sir Richard, was created Lord
Latimer by a new title, which therefore lineally descended to
Richard, by Henry, son and heir of the said George; and that the
Lord Broke had made a wrong claim; who should have claimed his
style from William Latimer, first created Lord Latimer of Danby,
(the head manor of this Barony) temp. Edward II; on this, the
Lord Broke perceiving his error, and having a title of his own,
was contented to conclude a match between their children, and
Richard suffered a recovery on certain manors and lordships
demanded by the Lord Broke, with which adjustment both parties
were well satisfied.--BANKS.

Here was a lady rivalling in illustrious birth and immenseness of
possessions the famed west country heiress Cicely Bonville, one of
whose daughters her grandfather had married as his second wife. What
fortunate youth was destined to make prize of this high-born and
wealthy orphan,--with whom was to reside the influence of the bestowal
of her hand, fortune, and let us hope also, her heart?

There resided not far away from the home of this fatherless,
richly-dowered girl, an old and well descended race of gentlemen
called Greville. Leland, who wrote his itinerary contemporary with the
little lady's existence in the flesh, thus describes them,--

"Sum hold Opinion, that the gravilles cam originally in at the
conquest. The veri ancient house of the gravilles, is at draiton
by banburi, in oxfordshire. But ther is an nother manor place of
the chief stok of the Gravilles, caullid Milcot, yn Warwickshire,
where a late is a newer, fairer and more commodious house. And
court rolles remayne yet at Draiton, that the Gravilles had
landes ons by yere 3300 marks. And Gravilles had Knap Castel, and
Bewbush Parke, and other landes in Southfax, by descentes of
their name.

"Grevill an ancient Gent. dwelleth at Milcote, scant a mile lower
than Stratford towards _Avon ripa dextra_."

This "ancient gent" residing at Milcote, only a comparatively short
distance from Beauchamps-Court, Sir Edward Greville by name, although
of considerable social standing, did not rank in influence with the
Brokes and Beauchamps. He appears to have been an assiduous attendant
at the Court of Henry VIII.,

"was in the commission of the peace for Warwickshire, and in 1514
at the seiges of Terouen and Tournay, also at the battle that
ensued, called by our historians the Battle of Spurs, from the
swiftness of the French running away. He received the honour of
Knighthood 13 October for his valiant behaviour. In 1523, he was
appointed one of the Knights to attend the King (Henry VIII.) and
Queen to Canterbury, and from thence to Calais, and Guisnes, to
the meeting of the French king; every one of that degree having a
chaplain, eleven servants, and eight horses."

Sir Edward married Anne, daughter of John Denton of Amersden in the
county of Bucks, died in 1529, and was buried in the Chapel of St.
Anne in the church of Weston-upon-Avon. By his wife he had four sons,
John, Fulke, Thomas, and Edward, and like a prudent far-seeing father,
he naturally looked about for good matches for them, and one prize at
least was in view, and near at home, if he could obtain her reversion.
So making use of his Court influence, on his return from the Field of
the Cloth of Gold, he

"in 13 Henry VIII., 1522, obtained the wardship of Elizabeth, one
of the daughters and coheirs, and eventually the sole heir of
Edward Willoughby the only son of Robert, the second Lord Broke;
a grant which in its consequences, greatly contributed to
aggrandize his family as will appear from what followed."

Theoretically it would be presumed the "obtaining a wardship from the
Crown," was simply that of a philanthropic trusteeship, but
practically it meant something of a much more sordid nature, even the
disposal of the person and possessions of the ward, for its own
selfish uses and purposes, a monstrous privilege, or rather power,
which was the chief object of their acquisition, and as a rule duly
enforced. Therefore in accordance, we learn further that

"Sir Edward intended her for John his eldest son, but she
preferred in affection Fulke his younger son, and we get the
following account of this marriage from a manuscript entitled
'_The Genealogie, Life, and Death of Robert, Lord
Brooke_,'--wrote in 1644, and in possession of Francis Earl
Brooke,[8]--'In the days of king Henry the Eighth, I read of Sir
Edward Grevill of Milcote, who had the wardship of Elizabeth, one
of the daughters of the Lord Brook's son. This Knight made a
motion to his ward, to be married to John his eldest son; but she
refused, saying, that she did like better of Fulke his second
son. He told her, that he (Fulke) had no estate of land to
maintain her, and that he was in the King's service of warre,
beyond the seas, and therefore his returne was very doubtful. She
replyed and said, that shee had an estate sufficient for both,
for him, and for herselfe, and that shee would pray for his
safeties, and waite for his coming. Upon his returne home, for
the worthy service he had performed, he was by king Henry
honoured with knighthood; and then he married Elizabeth, the
daughter of the Lord Brooke's son.'"

[8] Collins, _Peerage_, edition 1756, and probably now among the
muniments of the Earl of Warwick.

After all, Sir Edward did not have it exactly his own way, some little
romance was mixed up with this "matter of mere attorneyship," and the
evidently high-spirited girl had a will of her own, and preferred the
sailor youth, to the more prosaic stay-at-home son. It is well perhaps
her inclinations did not lead her for choice outside Sir Edward's
family circle, and doubtless the knight was sufficiently reconciled to
find one of his boys in possession of the heiress.

By this marriage Sir Fulke settled himself at Beauchamp's-Court, and
with his wife's large property, and others acquired afterward by
purchase, became of high distinction and position in the county of
Warwick, and it further appears that

"he was an affectionate husband and tender parent; that he had
encountered great difficulties, in securing the inheritance of
his wife (the daughters of the late Lord Broke, claiming as
coheirs), and that he was remarkably accurate in his accounts,
and adhered strictly to justice in all his transactions, appears
by the whole tenor of his will, dated 12 Elizabeth, in which
towards the end he thus expresses himself, '_and my especial
requests to my executors (his wife and eldest son) for the love I
have borne them, and for the travel I have taken in establishing
the hole inheritance, with my great costs also to be considered,
I most earnestly require them, and on God's behalf charge them,
that my debts be paied, if I die before the accomplishments
thereof_.'"

So it fortunately turned out, that the Lady Elizabeth was happily
wedded to a kind, honourable, and just man. She bore him seven
children, three sons and four daughters,--Fulke, who succeeded his
father,--Robert, of Thorpe-Latimer, Lincolnshire, ancestor of the
Earls Brooke and of Warwick,--Edward, of Harrold Park, Waltham-Abbey,
Essex, whose line terminated in two daughters coheiresses,--Mary,
married to William Harris of Hayne, Devon,--Eleanor, to Sir John
Conway, of Arrow, and Ragley, in Warwick, who died in 1603, father of
Edward, first Baron Conway,--Catherine, to Charles Read, of the county
of Gloucester, and Blanche who died unmarried.

This evidently attached couple did not long survive each other, Sir
Fulke died 10 Nov., 1559, and his wife followed him to the tomb the
year following--1560.

They were buried under a magnificent monument that originally stood at
the end of the south aisle, near the chancel in Alcester church, but
which is now removed to a position near the tower at the west end.

Considering Alcester church was almost wholly rebuilt about a century
and a half since, at an era when memorials of the dead were not too
circumspectly cared for, this noble tomb with its recumbent figures,
and wealth of ornament has been wonderfully preserved from injury.
Except that the coloured decoration is somewhat softened by Time, it
is otherwise but little mutilated, and displays all its antient
splendour almost unimpaired.

[Illustration: EFFIGIES OF SIR FULKE AND LADY ELIZABETH GREVILLE]

On a black marble table are their effigies in alabaster, richly
painted and gilded. Sir Fulke, bare-headed, is in full armour, two
chains around the breast, from the lower depends a Maltese cross (or
star) of five arms, sword and miséricorde, feet in broad sabbatons
puffed at the toes, and resting on a lion,--rings on his fingers, head
reclining on a helmet, with crest _a greyhound's head couped at the
shoulders sable, collared or_. Lady Elizabeth wears a close fitting
cap, hair parted in the centre and brought across the brow, ruff,
three small chains around the neck, gown with collar, sleeves having
dependant lappets, and putted, knotted and slashed at the shoulders,
with robe over fastened across the breast with cordon and tassels. Her
head rests on double cushions, rings are on her fingers, and from her
girdle, suspended by a chain, a gold pomander or pix, with double rose
ornament on the lid. By her left foot is a little dog, sable and
collared. The effigies are in a fine state of preservation, and around
the edge of the table this inscription:--

=Here lyeth the bodyes of s ffoulke grevile knyght & lady
Elizabeth his wefe the doughter & heire of edward willoughbye
esquyre the sone & heyre of Robert willoughbye knyght lord of
broke & lady Elizabeth one of the doughters & coheyres of the
lord beauchamps of powycke whiche s ffoulke dyed the x day of
november a'no d'ni M^o d^o lix and the seid lady Elizabeth
hys wyff deperted the day of in the yere of o^r lord god M^o
d^o lx of whose soules god have mercy amen=

On the sides of the tomb below are a series of small figures, and an
elaborate heraldic display, which claims special notice. Under the
knight are seven figures: 1, a knight in full armour, bareheaded,
sword, and chain round neck; 2 and 3, two ladies, with black hair,
chains round their necks, their gowns red, lined with black. On the
other side of the large shield, four figures: 4 and 5, two ladies with
black hair, gold chains, and black gowns lined with red; 6, apparently
a chrism child, with hood and clothes wound round in red, laced across
the chest, knees, and ankles with a black band; 7, another lady
clothed as 1 and 2. Under the cornice eight small shields:--1. _Sable,
a cross engrailed or_ (UFFORD).--2. _Gules, a cross moline or_
(BEC).--3. _Gules, a cross fleurie or_ (LATIMER).--4. _Sable, a fess
between three fleurs-de-lys or._--5. _Gules, four fusils in fess
or,[9] each charged with an escallop sable_ (CHENEY).--6. _Gules,
three mullets pierced, or._--7. _Azure, a cross fleurettée or_
(Paveley?).--8. _Gules, a lion rampant or._ Below them inscribed in
the centre,

=Arma Edwardi grevile de milcote militis.=

under the inscription a large escutcheon quarterly of four,--1 and 4.
_Gules, a fess between six martlets or._--2 and 3. _Or, on a fess
azure, three fleurs-de-lys of the first._ Round the shield on a blue
riband,

DONA PACIENCIA DIEN ME

On the other side under the lady are eight figures: 1 and 2, are
ladies in gilded caps and cuffs, black gowns lined with red, and
sleeves similar to those worn by Lady Greville; 3, a chrism child
habited exactly as that on the opposite side; 4, a lady clad similar
to the first two. On the other side of the central shield, four ladies
apparelled as the other three, their gowns red lined with black. All
the figures stand on little pedestals and have their hands raised in
prayer. Under the cornice eight small shields: 1. _Sable, a fret or_
(MALTRAVERS).--2. _Azure, two bars gemells or_ (CIFREWAST).--3. _Per
fess gules and azure, three crescents or_ (D'AUMARLE).--4. _Gules, a
saltier vaire, between twelve billets or_ (CHAMPERNOWNE).--5. _Or, on
a bend sable, three horse-shoes of the first_ (FERRERS).--6. _Azure,
an eagle displayed or_ (BIGBURY).--7. _Gules, a fess between six
martlets or._--8. _Or, on a fess azure, three fleurs-de-lys of the
first._ Inscribed below them in the centre,

=Arma Robert Willoughbye domina de broke.=

Under the inscription a large escutcheon quarterly of eighteen:--1.
_Sable, a cross engrailed or_ (UFFORD).--2. _Gules, a cross moline or_
(BEC).--3. _Gules, a cross fleurie or_ (LATIMER).--4. _Sable, a fess
between three fleurs-de-lys or._--5. CHENEY.--6. _Gules, three mullets
pierced or._--7. _Azure, a cross fleurettée or_ (PAVELEY?)--8. _Gules,
a lion rampant or._-9. _Or, a cross fleurie gules._--10. _Or, three
bars gules._--11. _Or, a chevron gules, within a bordure engrailed
sable_ (STAFFORD).--12. _Or, six lioncels rampant gules, three and
three._--13. MALTRAVERS.--14. CIFREWAST.--15. D'AUMARLE.--16.
CHAMPERNOWNE.--17. FERRERS.--18. BIGBURY.--Around the shield the
riband of the Garter with motto,

HONI SOIT QVI MAL Y PENSE

At the head of the tomb, four small shields[10] on the cornice:--1.
_Sable, on a cross within a bordure both engrailed or, nine pellets of
the first_ (GREVILLE).--2. _Erminois, a fess checquy or and azure._ 3.
_Quarterly per fess dancetté, 1 and 4 or, 2 and 3 azure, in the dexter
chief a crescent gules._--4. GREVILLE. Below them inscribed in the
centre,

=Arma Fulconis grevile militis & domini Elizabeth uxoris eius.=

under, a large escutcheon supported by nude alabaster figures of
boys,--_baron_, quarterly of four charged as the shields on the
cornice above, impaling _femme_, quarterly of twenty, eighteen of the
charges as on the large shield below the lady, and 19. _Gules, a fess
between six martlets or._--20. _Or, on a fess azure, three
fleurs-de-lys of the first._ Around the shield on a blue riband the
motto as under the knight.

[9] Gold is used throughout the heraldry on the monument to
represent either metal. The shields are here blazoned as they
actually appear.

[10] Commencing with these, the series of small shields round the
tomb, numbering twenty-four in all, follow the same sequence as
the corresponding number of quarterings on the escutcheon below
them.

At the foot of the tomb, four shields on the cornice:--1. _Or, a cross
moline gules._--2. _Or, three bars gules._--3. STAFFORD.--4. _Or, six
lioncels rampant gules, three and three._ Inscribed below them,

=Arma Richardi d'ni de bello Campo baronis de powick et
d'ni de Alcester.=

Underneath are two shields and a lozenge,--one above two. On the
first, quarterly of four, as under the knight; on the second,
quarterly of four as _baron_ at the head of the tomb, _in the fess
point a mullet for difference_. On the lozenge twenty quarterings as
_femme_,--as at the head of the tomb.

Twisted pillars occur at the corners of the tomb, and on each side of
the large escutcheons, and the whole composition is in a remarkably
good state of preservation.

Fulke, the eldest son of Lady Elizabeth, was a most accomplished man,
and the great friend and biographer of that "mirror of knighthood,"
Sir Philip Sidney. He married Ann, daughter of Ralph Nevill, fourth
Earl of Westmoreland who died in 1549. By her he left one son Fulke,
and one daughter Margaret, married to Sir Richard Verney of
Compton-Mordak, Warwickshire. Sir Fulke died in 1606.

Sir Fulke, the grandson of Lady Elizabeth, was really the heir through
her to the barony of Broke, but at that time, it did not appear to be
a point clear in law, that after an honour had been for some time in
abeyance in the female line, it could be afterward claimed by the
heir. He was greatly in favour at the Court of Elizabeth, who rewarded
him liberally, and he obtained from king James I., in the second year
of his reign, a grant of Warwick Castle and its dependencies, then in
a ruinous state, which he gradually re-edified and restored at great
cost, and, January 29, in the eighteenth year of the same reign was
advanced to the title of Baron Brooke, of Beauchamp's-Court, a dignity
further enhanced to an Earldom of the same name 7 July, 1746, followed
by that of the Earldom of Warwick 13 Nov., 1759. Sir Fulke, the first
Lord Brooke, was unfortunately murdered at his house in London, by one
Haywood his servant, who hearing Lord Brooke had not included him for
a legacy in his will, as he had his other servants, Lord Brooke not
considering him entitled to it, resented the omission, and after angry
expostulations, stabbed him in the back, in his bedchamber. The
assassin then rushed into another chamber, locked the door, and
destroyed himself. Lord Brooke lingered a few days, and expired 30
Sep., 1638.

It was to the descendants of Margaret Greville, sister to Sir Fulke
the first Lord Brooke, and grand-daughter of the Lady Elizabeth, that
the title of Willoughby de Broke, was destined to be restored. She
married Sir Richard Verney, of Compton-Murdack in Warwickshire, the
then representative of that very antient and distinguished family. Sir
Richard died 7 Aug., 1630, and Lady Margaret 26 March, 1631. They had
issue four sons and four daughters. Sir Greville ob: 1642, the eldest
son of Sir Richard, had also four sons,--Greville, the eldest; John,
who died young; Richard, of Belton; and George. This descent of
Greville (the eldest son of Sir Greville) became extinct on the death
of his son William in 1683, leaving no issue.

The succession was now vested in Richard of Belton in the county of
Rutland, third son of Sir Greville. He was a person of considerable
culture and influence, and Sheriff and Knight of the shire for
Warwick. As descendant through the heiress of Greville, from Robert
Willoughby, Baron of Broke, he laid claim to that title, which was
allowed him in Parliament 13 February, 1695,--8 William III., and on
the twenty-fifth of that month, had summons by writ to the house of
peers, and on the twenty-seventh took his seat accordingly as the
third Baron Willoughby de Broke,--the original title being granted 12
August, 1492,--7 Henry VII. He married two wives, lived to the great
age of ninety, and was buried at Compton-Verney, Warwickshire. The
title is still held by his descendants.

Here ends our direct genealogical and biographical details, and we
retrace our steps to the church of Beer-Ferrers, where the second Lord
Willoughby de Broke was buried. We have described such remembrances as
remain there to the families of Ferrers and Champernowne, and it now
becomes our province to make note of the memorials that exist to their
successors the Willoughbys.

The first traces that meet the eye are on the bosses of the roof of
the south porch--whereon are shields charged with the arms of Ferrers,
Cheney, Latimer, &c.; and a glance within the church shews us a
pleasing array of bench-ends, of well designed tracery and uniform
design, except the two easternmost, which are ornamented with shields
of arms, referable to their presumed donor. On one is the achievement
of Willoughby de Broke, similar to the escutcheon on the tomb at
Callington, on the other the _bend and horse-shoes_ of Ferrers, here
made _four_ in number, and saltierwise across them, are _five
rudders_,--that descended to and was adopted by Willoughby. Both porch
and bench-ends are of late fifteenth century work. We pass into the
north transept, and there on the north side of the position of the
antient altar once therein, and standing at right angles from the
wall, is a large high-tomb of Purbeck marble. The massive cover stone
is plain, but around its edge is a deeply sunk indent in which was
originally the inscription either on brass or painted within it. Below
in panels are shields with classic wreaths around them, boldly
sculptured,--there are no charges on the escutcheons, and they appear
to have been originally covered with brasses, on which the charges
were emblazoned.

The era may be referred to the first half of the sixteenth century,
and with great probability it may be considered to be the tomb of
Robert, the second Lord Willoughby de Broke, who died in 1522.

[Illustration: TOMB OF THE SECOND LORD WILLOUGHBY DE BROKE,
BEER-FERRERS.]

Before we leave the sacred edifice, a chastened thought creeps over
us, as we take a last look at the fine old glass in the east
window. Just seventy years a-past, a gifted student in the
pursuit we also at humbler distance love, made pilgrimage here, and
was engaged in making a drawing of its interesting painted story, when
death suddenly stayed the work of the artist, snapping the very pencil
in his fingers, and instantly translated him, from picturing the
earthly image of the Founder of these courts below, into his immortal
presence in the great temple above, and the company of all those who
"have died in His faith and fear." Gratefully we note, appreciative
minds have placed a small brass in the pavement, where, on the 28 May,
1821, Charles Alfred Stothard met with his sad, and to mortal sight,
untimely end. His cunning fingers are mouldering in the dust below,
and moss and decay are stealthily obliterating his record outside, but
the fidelity and truth of his works remain bright and undimmed,
forming his best and most enduring monument,--for

"It is the gods that die, not God; It is the arts that perish, not
Art; And beauties may disappear, but Beauty herself Is immortal."

[Illustration: BENCH-ENDS, BEER-FERRERS CHURCH, DEVON.]

The arms proper of Willoughby appear to be _Or, fretty azure_, and
with regard to the badge of _the rudder_, although it has been
questioned, still the evidence of investigation goes far to prove it
to be by ancestral descent, the peculiarity of this family. Leland
makes special note of their appearance at Broke-Hall, and also in
Westbury church. It first occurs in connection with Cheney on the tomb
at Edington, also with Willoughby at Callington, is well marked on the
bench-end at Beer-Ferrers, and again--out of compliment--appears in
similar situation in Landulph church, on the opposite side of the
river. It is found in Lychet-Matraver's church in east Dorset, on the
font and over the windows, accompanied by the golden _fret_ of
Matravers; here it follows Elizabeth, sister of Lord Willoughby de
Broke, who married William Fitz-Alan, Earl of Arundel, Baron Matravers
of Lychet, and lord of the place, who died in 1543. The church was
evidently rebuilt about that time, and displays the characteristics of
late, almost debased Perpendicular.

Another memory concerning Willoughby de Broke yet remains for us to
chronicle, and we must spirit you away, gentle reader, from Tamar's
oozy marge to the dry undulating chalk hills of central Dorset, and
invite you to enter the well-cared-for little church of Hooke.
Descending to him through his grandmother Anne Cheney, as
representative of the families of Stafford and Matravers of Hooke,
Lord Willoughby de Broke held large properties in this and the
adjoining parishes, eleven manors (as enumerated by Hutchins), and
where also he had a seat, of which, says Coker, "Humphrey Stafford who
married Matraver's heir, was the great builder of it," then the
residence of the Marquis of Winchester, descendant of the
Willoughbies; "but his successors have not thought so well of it,
wherefore it is like to run to decay." On its site now stands a modern
mansion, with a few antient vestiges interwoven, and around it is a
fair-sized park. It was in Hooke church that the first Lord
Willoughby de Broke by will endowed the priest for twenty years to
pray for his soul; and within the edifice, on the south side, is a
small chantry, which opens to the church by an arch of late character,
richly decorated with a course of quatrefoil panels having in their
centres shields, and edged on each side with a string-course of
foliage. There are no bearings on the shields. Here, doubtless, the
masses _pro bono statu_ of the deceased nobleman's soul were regularly
sung and said for the time specified. No memorial to Willoughby is
visible in the chantry, excepting a small brass, that probably had its
original station within it, but is now affixed to the opposite wall,
which records the following,--

=Of yo^r charyte pray for the soule of Edmond Semar late se'v'nt
to Robt wylughby knyght late lord Broke whiche Edmond decessed
y^e xiii day of Ianuary the yer of o^r lord m v^e xxiii on whose
soule Ihu haue mercy amen=

William Willoughby succeeded to the Arch-Presbytery of Beer-Ferrers 21
April, 1533,--patron _Walter Seymour_, by virtue of grant from Lord de
Broke. He died 1565, and the Arch-Presbytery expired with him. Both
probably were members of the same family.

A review of the life of the first Lord Willoughby de Broke exhibits no
salient features, beyond those associated with the social distinctions
and worldly prosperity, usually conferred on and accompanying the
faithful subserviency, that follows in the wake of a conqueror. His
public functions scarcely reached in importance those exercised by his
companion at Court and in arms, and fellow west-countryman Giles, Lord
Daubeney; but in the main they were much alike; each served Henry as a
military commander, both on sea and land, abroad and at home, were the
envoys entrusted to negociate his crafty, vacillating, compromising
policy in missions to foreign potentates, and held respectively the
highest positions at his court, the one as Lord Chamberlain, and the
other as Lord Steward of his Household. Although the Edgcumbe episode
seems to pourtray him in his younger years as a daring and lawless
marauder on his neighbour's peace and possessions, large allowance
must be made for the disorganized state of society in that distracted
age, where every man essayed to be a law unto himself, and might
became right, in a very large sense of the word. In after years--like
Lord Daubeney--when Henry was firmly seated on the throne, and order
largely restored, Lord Willoughby de Broke was probably a careful and
cautious courtier, steering clear of the intrigues that stalked about
Henry's court (and infested the Tudor dynasty to its close), one who
studied the mercenary, selfish policy of his royal master, and made
himself generally useful as opportunity and circumstance occurred, and
in return was rewarded with honours, accompanied by grants of his
neighbour's confiscated lands, which cost the generous monarch he
served, nothing to bestow. His name, somewhat prominent from the
functions he exercised, helps to fill up the middle distance of the
picture, that environs the advent of the first Tudor king.

Concerning the history of the subsequent possession of the antient
home of the Willoughbies de Broke,--Charles Blount, the fifth Lord
Montjoy, who married Anne the daughter of Robert, the second Lord
Willoughby de Broke by his second marriage, had in her right, livery
of the manor, 31 Henry VIII., 1539. He was of eccentric turn, served
in the rear guard of the army sent to France in 1544, and by his will
made at that time, he ordered a stone to be set over his grave in case
he was there slain, with the following epitaph, as a memento to his
children, to keep themselves worthy of so much honour as to be called
forward to die in the cause of their king and country--

"Willingly have I sought
And willingly have I found,
The fatal end that wrought
Thither as dutie bound:

Discharged I am of that I ought
To my countrey by honest wound;
My soul departyd Christ hath bought;
The end of man is ground."

and further devised some extensive charitable bequests. He died in
1545, and was buried in the church of St. Mary Aldermary, London
(Weever)--his grandson Charles Blount, eighth baron (raised to the
dignity of Earl of Devonshire, and K.G. in 1603),--sold Broke Hall and
Manor to William Jones, of Edington, Wilts, gent, in 1599.

Yet one more remembrance of the Willoughbies and of the same house as
the Lords Willoughby de Broke, waits notice, and our little chronicle
concerning them is concluded. In Southleigh churchyard in east Devon,
close to the chancel end of the church is a high-tomb, erected
evidently to a person of some position; on the end panel is incised
the grand achievement of Willoughby de Eresby, as on the tomb at
Callington, and with the _crescent_ for difference, shewing that he
was of the same descent. The form of the letters in the inscription is
of an extraordinary uncouth kind, and tell us

HERE LIETH THE BODY OF HENRY WILLOUGHBY
WHO DYED THE 28 DAY OF SEPTR. 1616.

but we have been hitherto unable satisfactorily to place him in the
Willoughby pedigree; the following however may be added.

Sir William Willoughby, second son of Sir John Willoughby of Broke,
and brother to Robert, Lord Willoughby de Broke, was of Toners-Piddle
near Bere-Regis, Dorset, and by his will dated 28 November, 1512,
proved 13 February, 1512-13, ordered his body to be buried in the
church of St. John the Baptist at Bere-Regis. He endowed a Chantry at
Edington in Wilts, and gave to the Abbey of Milton in Dorset fifty
marks. Nicholas Willoughby his son was also of Toners-Piddle, where,
says Hutchins, "he held this manor and advowson, and four hundred
acres of (plough) land, two hundred of mead, three hundred of wood,
and two thousand of furze and heath, there and in Snelling and
Chilborough, of Lewis Mordant as of his manor of Duntish, in free
socage and by fealty." In 1546 Robina his widow instituted John
Brikill to the rectory. By his will dated 15 May, 1542, he ordered
his body to be buried in the church of Bere-Regis, as did also Leonard
Willoughby his son. "At the upper end of the north aisle," Hutchins
remarks, "are two altar tombs of grey marble, but the brass plates,
effigies, escutcheons, and inscriptions gone; perhaps they belong to
the family of the Willoughbies." In 1653 Sir Robert Willoughby and
Elizabeth his wife sold the capital mansion-house, farm, and advowson
of Toners-Piddle to Robert Lewen. Toners-Piddle church "was re-built
in 1759, the little aisle of the Willoughbies was not re-erected.
There were no inscriptions in it, that family generally burying at
Bere." Christopher Willoughby, another son of Sir William, married
Isabel daughter of Nicholas Weeks of Dodington, Gloucester, and he had
a son named _Henry_, who married Jane daughter of Dauntsey of
Lavington, Wilts.

Richard Willoughby, third son of Sir John Willoughby of Broke, was of
Silton, Dorset, having married Isabel daughter of John Bedyke of that
place, who brought the manor to her husband. He died 1523, she 1524,
and both by their wills ordered their bodies to be buried in the
church of St. Nicholas there. They left several descendants.

Henry Willoughby's tomb at Southleigh has been carefully and
substantially repaired by a representative of the family.

Back to Beer-Ferrers again our thoughts return, and recall the memory
of our last visit to the antient home, successively of Ferrers,
Champernowne, and Willoughby, names all now extinct, that had
relationship there. Evening is creeping on, as we leave the little
jetty and find ourselves afloat, slowly making way out into the Tamar
proper. How many a story speaks to us of the past, from its dim cliffy
banks, that history and tradition have preserved, how many more,
silent and forgotten, are lost for ever. Such the doom and fate of
human life, little episodes on the stream of time, successive and
evanescent as the wavelets that rise and die against the bosom of our
little craft. Of Willoughby de Broke, a larger remembrance remains,
but it only points in a fuller sense to an often recurring issue of
human life, graphically summed up concerning them by the quaint old
historian Westcote,--"but this family fading in his very blossom, soon
came to his period."

TAMAR'S FLOW.

O Tamar's flow! lowly I bend mine ear,
And listen to thy lisp that greets the shore,
Bearing Tradition's burthen soft and clear,
From the dim portals of the never more;--
Two voices spell me from thy mingled tide,
One, mighty ocean's whisper, murmurous, deep,
Telling of ventures glorious, that hide
Within its billowy bosom rocked in sleep;--
The other, rippling from thy crystal fount,
A tinkle sweet of elves, and fays, and flowers,
Legends borne down from woodland, vale, and mount,
Departed homes, and haunted shrines and towers;--
Flow on,--until this trancèd ear shall be,
But one more memory that is merged in thee!

[Illustration: EFFIGY, PRESUMED TO REPRESENT
CICELY BONVILLE, MARCHIONESS OF DORSET.
ASTLEY CHURCH, WARWICKSHIRE--CIRCA 1530-5]

EXTINCT, FOR THE WHITE ROSE.

Leaving the antient town of Colyton by its south-western approach, the
broad turnpike-road that leads over the hill to Sidmouth, at about
half-a-mile's distance up its ascent, a turn to the right takes us
into the trackway of a winding and somewhat narrow Devonshire lane. A
pleasant prospect opens across the valley below, through which the
Coly sparkles along with sinuous course, and immediately in the
mid-distance appears the old ruinous cradle of the Courtenay family,
Colcombe Castle, grey-walled, ivy-clad, and orchard environed. Beyond
and just under the further fir-topped hill-line, another grey dot
strugglingly emerges from among the dense garnishing of foliage that
surrounds it, and shews us what remains of old Shute House, while to
its left, across the far valley, rises the beautiful tree-crested
acclivity of Shute Park; localities of special importance pertinent to
the interests of our little narrative, to be referred to by and by. In
front a delightful and typical Devonian landscape extends itself.
Sprinkled over with the deserted homes of the olden lesser
squirearchy, the antient lords of the vale, and picturesquely varied
alternate with copse, plantations, and well-timbered hedgerow, the two
valleys of the Coly and the Brinkly bifurcate just at this point,
meeting under the shadow of the remarkable pyramid-shaped hill, Waddon
Pen, and then stretch away, variously broken into lesser knoll and
vale, until lost in the misty outline of the high, far-distant curtain
of the Farway hills, with their tiny clumps of trees that just break
the even contour, and stand like sentinels on the rampart-appearanced
outline against the grey sky. They recall also for the moment to the
historic memory, the burthen of a pleasant story, connected with its
breezy, and comparatively unfrequented altitude, one of the numberless
traditions that throng the hills and vales of the olden region of the
Danmonii.

A rest for awhile on the parapet of the bridge spanning the little
Morganhayes brook, hastening to join the Coly a few fields' distance
below; a rivulet whose banks at Spring time are almost fairy-land with
abundance of some of our finest wild flowers, broad stretches of
daffodils, myriads of white-starred anemones, gleams of pale primroses
and bleached lady-smocks, and sheen of golden-cups in their
succession, but specially, when uncertain April brings her tears and
sunshine, the haunt of the most gorgeous of them all

THE MEADOW RANUNCULUS.

Close by the rippling streams' translucent marge,
Ranunculus of gold,
Bright to the sun in constellation large,
Thy glowing stars unfold.

'Mid all the wealth Spring scatters without stint,
By meadow, bank or stream,
Gay daffodil, or king-cup's myriad glint,
Spread like a golden dream;--

She brings no rival whose attractions may
With thee in all compare,
Brave thy full beauty in its strong array,
And matchless clusters dare.

No, nor sweet Summer when adown the land
Her flower-sprent steps incline,
Bearing the sceptred iris in her hand,--
The glory still is thine.

Continuing our pilgrimage, about a mile's distance further brings us
to a bridge spanning another small stream, also flowing down to meet
the Coly below at a place appropriately named Bournehayne, and
immediately at the entrance of the little village of Southleigh.
Passing under the shadow of some fine old yews, our steps lead up a
little acclivity to the left, into the churchyard. There we halt for a
minute to scan the Willoughby tomb, with its grand escutcheon and
uncouth caligraphy, and then look inside the little sanctuary, where,
owing to the necessity of almost entire rebuilding, only one monument
of importance remains, preserved in the chancel, to be further
referred to in the course of our little story. On the porch threshold
the eye is arrested momentarily by an almost obliterated
seventeenth-century flat stone, bearing the still-traceable
yeoman-gentleman name of Starre of Beer, and the fragment of another
leaning against a grave near, of contemporary date, inscribed with the
patronymic of Clode--a name still existent in the parish,--and whose
earthly calling is described as '_goldsmith_,' a strange vocation to
find chronicled here in this rural vale, and the memorial probably of
one who practised the craft in busier scenes elsewhere, and returned
to his native parish, when he finally laid down burnisher and graver,
to find his last resting-place.

Down a small meadow below the church, to the rill we crossed on
entering the hamlet, and our path inclines along its banks up the
valley through which it flows, and a right pleasant vale it is,
flanked on the left by extensive plantations of almost every species
of useful conifer, which stretch down, exhibiting great luxuriance of
growth, their different habits finely contrasting, and adding the
great charm of variety; while the opposite ascent is also
picturesquely wooded with ordinary foliage. So we leisurely continue
a full mile or more, when the valley somewhat expands. Here some fine
trees are scattered park-like in appearance around, with a small
modern mansion in their midst, and this brings us to our present
destination.

Who would imagine, viewing the peace and retirement of this delightful
rural solitude, so far removed from the ken and the movements of busy,
anxious, restless, ambitious man, and where only the voice of the
thrush, the flicker of the butterfly, the hum of the bee, the rustle
of the coney, the song of the lark, the bleating of the flock, or the
low of the kine, is seen or heard, that a story of wondrous historic
interest and significance "take hys begynnyng" from this spot? Yet an
apt symbol of how small and comparatively unknown beginnings, at times
end in being engrafted into the largest results, lies close beside us.
Who shall predict the ultimate destiny of the humble ripple of water
that sparkles along at our feet? Down through this valley it hastens
to the Coly, then on to join the larger Axe, thence to mingle with the
salt tide and be merged in the blue expanse of the Channel, and
finally be found adding its tiny tribute to the grandeur of the great
Atlantic.

As of the stream, so of the story that has origin here on its banks,
and from him who was one of the earliest settlers thereon, back in the
twilight of the days of the early Plantagenets, when a country
gentleman with no recorded pretension to influence or fame, beyond the
inalienable witness of Norman descent, betrayed by his name, to this
place found his way and fixed his abode. After sundry generations the
descendants of his race, although still holding their original home
here, travelled far afield, away from the quietude and peace of these
sylvan scenes, lured into the dangerous path of ambition, and became
prominent actors in the great, stirring, troublous drama of mediæval
English history, as active and devoted partizans in the contending
factions, fighting to the death amid the strife of its kings, and
shedding their blood unstintedly in the conflict. Then followed the
great but dangerous honour of kinship with royalty and its fatal
glamour, culminating at last in their aspiration to the possession of
the crown itself, with the result, finally, of laying one of their
last and most guileless representatives, headless on the steps of the
throne to which they laid claim. A relation of real incidents that
needs no garnishing of romance to enhance its extraordinary interest.

Wiscombe,--Wescombe, probably originally West-combe, is the name given
to these historic precincts. The very earliest mention of its
ownership assigns it as among the possessions of the Abbey of St.
Michael de Monte, _in periculo maris_, in Normandy, and was at the
beginning of the thirteenth century held of its Abbot by Roger de
Daldich, of the family of Daldich of East-Budleigh. After awhile came
a change of ownership, and then we get the first mention of the name
of the family, the outline of whose succeeding generations we propose
to attempt, albeit imperfectly, to chronicle. A story, nevertheless,
of surpassing interest, even among the crowd of great traditions that
form the historic heritage of the famed county of Devon.

This was, according to Pole, its grant, or sale, with the reservation
of twenty shillings yearly rent, "about ye middest of the raigne of
kinge Henry III.," by the aforesaid Abbot and Roger de Daldich to
Nicholas de Bonville, evidently a gentleman of that era, and whose
name--_de bonne ville_--'of the fair or good village'--unmistakably
pointed to the original birthplace of his family, as being found in
the land immediately beyond the southern sea, from which his ancestor
doubtless also migrated in the train of the Conqueror.

All we know of the life of this Nicholas de Bonville, presumably the
first of his name as possessor of Wiscombe, is that he married a lady
named Amicia, and it was probably he, who in accordance with the
religious custom of the age, was the donor of a rent-charge at
'Tuddesheye,' now Studhayes, in Kilmington, to the Abbey of Newenham,
in the adjoining valley of the Axe, and in its Conventual church was
buried, as described by Mr. Davidson, "lastly against the north wall
of the choir, lay Sir Nicholas Bonville, a benefactor to the abbey who
died in 1266."[11] He left a son named William.

[11] _History of Newenham Abbey._

But according to another account of the early generations of Bonville,
the first recorded was Nicholas Bonville who was living in 1199. To
him his son William Bonville (not Nicholas), who married Amicia, did
homage for lands in Somerset, 6 Feb., 1265, and was succeeded by his
son William, who married Joan, a widow.[12]

[12] Vivian's _Visitations of Devon_.

William Bonville wedded a lady named Joan,--in a list of the Guild
Merchants of the antient borough of Totnes, dated 1260, and still
preserved, the third name that occurs is _Will's de Boneuille_, but
whether to be identified with an owner of Wiscombe of that name, may
not be determined, but the era accords. Of him we learn nothing
further beyond the date of his death 2 Edward I., 1273; and that he
was succeeded by his son Nicholas.

Nicholas de Bonville was styled also "of Shute," by right of his wife
Elizabeth de Pyne, of whom and her dower a few words.

The first recorded owners of Shute, and from whom it received its
name, were Sir Lucas and Sir Robert de Schete, who held it early in
the reign of Henry III. From them it passed to Sir Robert and Sir
Thomas de Pyne, of the "antient progeny" of Pyne in east Devon. Sir
Thomas who was Sheriff of Devon 56 Henry III., and successively 6, 9,
and 10 Edward I., at his death left two daughters coheiresses. One of
these distaffs, Matilda (otherwise Hawise), wedded Nicholas de
Bonville of Wiscombe, to whom she brought Shute as her portion. "In
this place (Shute) the famylye of Bonvill," says Pole, "made their
principall dwellinge, which had (longe before this Nicholas had the
mansion howse, and mannor of Shute) divers lands within Shute, namely
Sir Nicholas Bonvill (his grandfather) had Leggeshayes, and other
lands their, his dwellinge beinge at yt tyme at Wiscombe." The policy
of this marriage is therefore apparent. Himself and wife appear to
have both died the same year, 23 Edward I., 1295. They left a son and
heir named Nicholas, and another son John, who married Joan, daughter
of Waryn Hampton of Musbury, and she married secondly John Sachville,
and thirdly John Faringdon of Faringdon.

Sir Nicholas Bonville of Shute and Wiscombe, married Johanna, daughter
of Sir Henry Champernon of Clyst-Champernon (who died in 1320), by his
wife Johanna daughter of Henry Bodrugan. He was two years old only at
his father's death, but the date of his own decease does not appear.
There were four children, of whom Sir William was the eldest son and
successor.

Alexander, the second son, married Hawise, daughter of Henry de la
Forde in Musbury, and had a son Nicholas, styled "of Forde," whose
daughter Edith, married Richard Okebeare, through whose descendant,
Pole, afterward of Shute, was the representative, before he purchased
the Bonville's forfeited inheritance, and through whom they quarter
the arms of de la Forde; _Sable, a poppy with roots and fruit or_, and
Bonville.

Isabel, who married Sir Roger de Nonant of Broad-Clyst, and last of
that name; they left two daughters, Alice who married John Beauchamp
of Ryme, and Eleanor. The beautiful monument with effigy in
Broad-Clyst church is supposed to represent this knight, who reclines
in a recess on the south side of the chancel, and is clad in plate
armour with bascinet, mail-gorget, surcoat, and ornamented baudrick.
The feet rest on a lion, the head on a tilting helmet, and angels are
at the shoulders. A richly foliated canopy of screen-like character
fronts the figure on the side toward the church.

Anne, the second daughter became a nun at Wherwell.

Sir William Bonville, of Shute, "a very sweet and noble seat, adorned
in those days (as it still is) with a fair park and large demesnes,"
the first prominent representative of this family, and who added
greatly to its social status, was a wealthy and munificent man. He
married first Margaret, daughter and coheiress of Sir William
d'Aumarle of Woodbury, Devon, who died 15 Nov., 1361, by his wife
Agnes de Meriet, daughter of George de Meriet, of Merriot, Somerset.
By her he had four sons, and two daughters. She died 13 May, 1399.

Early in the succeeding century Sir William married secondly Alice
(whose surname has not been recovered), widow of Sir John Rodney, who
died 19 Dec, 1400. Sir William Bonville was her _fifth_ spouse, for
she had wedded three husbands previous to Sir John Rodney. Firstly,
John Fitz-Roger, lord of the manor of Chewton-Mendip, Somerset; by
whom she had a daughter, Elizabeth, who married John Bonville, her
last husband's eldest son by his first wife; secondly, she married Sir
Edmond de Clyvedon, of Clyvedon, Somerset, who died 13 Jany., 1375-6;
and thirdly, as his second wife, Sir Ralph Carminow of Menheniot,
Cornwall, who deceased 9 Oct., 1386. Sir Ralph who is said to have
been "by a brase of Greyhounds pulled over a Cliff and died," was
buried in Menheniot church, where there is a small brass,--probably
the earliest remaining in Cornwall--to his memory, thus inscribed,--

=Orate pro anima domini Radulphi Carmynow militis, cuius anime
propicietur deus Amen.=

Lady Alice Bonville survived all her husbands nearly twenty years, and
died 27 March, 1426.

A glance at the numerous ventures of this much-married lady will give
the uninitiated in the study of genealogy some idea of the
difficulties which beset it, in sifting, tracing, and separating the
tangle of relationship that wove together the leading families of the
west during the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries. It was
the custom to marry very early in life, often at fifteen or sixteen,
and that short widowhoods and remarriage almost invariably followed
decease on either side, and not uncommonly resulting further also, in
the children of the previous marriages matching together, a "matter of
mere attorneyship," probably in many cases entered into to consolidate
the family estates.

Beside his "mansion howse" at Shute, which was his principal
residence, Sir William, as was usual, had a town house or hotel, in
the parish of the Holy Trinity, Exeter. On 17 April, 1404, Bishop
Stafford licensed John Govys rector of Holy Trinity, as the parish
church was being rebuilt at the time, "_ut in aula infra mansum domini
Willelmi Bonevyle, militis, infra parochiam dicte ecclesie Sancte
Trinitatis situatum, divina possis celebrare, ac per presbiteros
ydoneos facere celebrari, necnon parochianis tuis quibuscumque
Sacramenta et Sacramentalia conferre et ministrare valeas_."

Of Sir William's sons, Richard the eldest died without issue before
1397. John the second son became his father's heir and successor.

Thomas Bonville, third son, married Cicely, daughter of Sir John
Stretche of Sampford-Arundell, Somerset, who died 6 Aug., 1390, by his
wife Katharine daughter of Sir John Beaumont, of Sherwill, North
Devon. They had two sons, William who died 28 Aug., 1412, and John in
1426. Both were styled "of Merriot, Somerset," property that descended
to them through their great-grandmother, and died without issue. He,
Thomas, died about 1401, and his widow soon after married Sir William
Cheney of Broke, Wilts, and died 18 Oct., 1430.[13]

[13] See page 5.

William, the fourth son, died without issue; we hear nothing of him
beyond his being a witness to his stepmother's will.

Katharine, the eldest daughter, married first Sir John Cobham, of
Blackborough, Devon, by whom she had a daughter Elizabeth, married to
Walter Charleton. Secondly she married John Wyke of Nynehead-Florey,
Somerset, and thirdly Humphry Stafford of Grafton, Worcestershire. She
died 1 Aug., 1416.

Elizabeth, second daughter, married about 1390, Sir Thomas Carew of
Ottery-Mohun, who died 25 Jan., 1431. She died 8 Feb., 1450-1.

Sir William who was Sheriff of Devon 13 Richard II., 1400, died on 14
Feb., 1407-8, and was buried before the great Cross in the choir of
Newenham Abbey Church. Beside him was afterward laid Alice his second
wife. This was during the abbacy of Leonard Houndalre, who presided
over the Community 1402-13.

He bequeaths by his will,--a very long document written in
French,--and made

"on the Saturday next before the feast of the Assumption of our
Lady, 1404, my body to be buried before the High Cross of the
church of Newenham; to Alice my consort my mansion at Exeter for
her life, all my books, vestments with other apparel belonging to
my chapel, all kinds of necessaries belonging to my hall,
chambers, pantry, buttery, kitchen and fish-pond, within my manor
of Shute, and all other chattels on my manors of Wescombe, &c.,
&c., elsewhere, 100 marks in money, and the half of my silver
vessels, &c.; 100 marks, to assist in making and repairing the
bridges and roads that are weak and fallen within my lordships of
Devon and Somerset; to alienate by mortmain 50 marks of land and
of rent per year for a _Maison Dieu_ in Combestreet at Exeter,
for 12 poor men and women to be lodged there always, also 300
marks to the said Maison Dieu in honour of God, and to sustain
the said house, and the aforesaid poor men and women, all my
rents in Exeter, except my mansion;--to Dame Anne Bonville, nun
of Wherwell, 10 marks, a _hanapp_ (drinking cup) with silver
cover, and my best _hoppelond_ (great coat) with the fur. To
William my son 200 marks to assist him in getting married; to
Thomas son of John Bonville £20 in money; to John son of Thomas
Bonville to assist him in getting married 100 marks. To my
daughter Dame Katharine Cobham £20; to my daughter Dame Elizabeth
Carew, £20. I devise that all my debts be duly and fully paid,
and if any offences or extortions by me have been committed
against any persons I will that they be restored to them,
according to the greatness of the offence; 24 torches of wax, and
24 poor men be clothed the day of the interment of my body, and
to other poor people coming on the day of my burial £10, that
each who comes may have one penny; and that my mansion and my
retinue be kept just as it is for one quarter of a year after my
death. Appoints Alice my consort, and six clerks executors;
Monsieur Thomas Brooke and John Strecch, surveyors; nothing to be
done without the counsel and assent of the said surveyors."

There is also included a very large number of religious bequests to
pray for the good estate of his soul, at various places, and legacies
in money and kind, to the poor on his extensive estates.

John Bonville, son and heir of Sir William and Margaret d'Aumarle,
married Elizabeth, only child and heiress of John Fitz-Roger, daughter
of the first husband of his father's second wife. She was
heiress-general to the Fitz-Rogers and brought the manor of
Chewton-Mendip, near Wells, Somerset, and much other property into the
family. In the south aisle of the chancel of Chewton-Mendip church, on
a high-tomb are the recumbent effigies of a knight and lady,--the
knight in chain and plate armour, with bascinet, mail-gorget, baudrick
and spurs. On his surcoat are embroidered _three lions rampant_, the
arms of Fitz-Roger. The lady is in long robe, wimple and cover-chief.
The armour and costume are assignable to this era. John Bonville had
two sons, William eldest and heir, Thomas, and one daughter Isabel.

Thomas the second son, who was Sheriff of Cornwall, married first
Johanna eldest daughter of Hugh de St. John, eldest son of Thomas de
Poynings, Lord St. John of Basing, by his wife Elizabeth daughter of
Martyn Ferrers of Beer-Ferrers. By her he had one son John. Secondly,
he married Leva, daughter and heir of John Gorges of Tamerton-Foliot,
Devon, and widow of John Wibbery. She died 16 Dec, 1461. Thomas died
11 Feb., 1467.

John Bonville son of Thomas, married first Johanna Wibbery daughter of
his father's second wife, by her first husband John Wibbery. By her
he had two daughters, Anne married to Philip Coplestone, and Joanne
married to John Elliot of Coteland. Secondly, he married Katharine, by
whom he had two daughters, Florence who married first Sir Humphry
Fulford, K.B., and secondly, Thomas Hext; and Elizabeth who married
Thomas West, Lord Delawarr. John Bonville died 24 Aug., 1494.

Isabel, only daughter of John Bonville, son and heir of William
Bonville, married Sir Richard Champernowne of Modbury, son of Sir
Richard Champernowne, who died 26 Feb., 1418-19, and Katharine
daughter of Sir Giles Daubeney, and who were both buried at Dodbrooke,
near Kingsbridge.

John Bonville, her father, died in the lifetime of his father, 21
Oct., 1396, and Elizabeth Fitz-Roger, his widow, married secondly Sir
Richard Stuckley of Trent, Somerset.

Leland thus speaks of the "maner places" of the Bonvilles, Wiscombe,
and Shute:--

"on the west part, over an hille byyond Seton is Wiscombe, a fair
maner place, sumtyme the Lord Bonvilles; now longging to the
Marquise of Dorsete. The parkes and maner places of Wischum and
Shoute abowte Axminster in Devonshire were the Lord Bonevilles,
and after a knightes of that name or ever they came to the
Marquis of Dorsetes hand."

In Sir William Bonville, the eldest son of John Bonville and Elizabeth
Fitz-Roger, we reach the most celebrated individual of his race, and
practically the last male in the direct line, as his son and grandson
died in his lifetime. His father having died in 1396, when he was
quite a child, and his mother being married again to Richard Stuckley,
it is probable the boy was in the custody of his grandfather at Shute
up to his death in 1407, and subsequently in the guardianship of his
step-grandmother the Lady Alice until his coming of age, and taking
possession of his large property in 1414, which year his mother died,
but his step-grandmother lived twelve years afterward, dying in 1426.

The particulars as to the birth and baptism of this wealthy and
unfortunate man, as they were deposed to by the witnesses appearing
before the escheator at the enquiry held to make proofs as to his
coming of age, are very homely and interesting.[14] This was taken at
Honiton on "Tuesday, All Hallow's Eve, in the first year of the reign
of King Henry the Fifth after the Conquest, before Henry Foleford, the
Lord the King's Escheator in the county of Devon." Numerous witnesses
were examined, and John Cokesdene and two others deposed,--

"that William the son of John, is of the age of 21 years and
upwards, having been born at Shute, on the last day of August in
the 16th year of the reign of the Lord Richard, late King of
England, the Second after the Conquest (1393), and baptized in
the parish church of the same vill on the same day about the hour
of vespers. And this they well know to be true, as they the said
jurors were, on the said last day of August, together elected at
Honiton, on a certain 'Love Day' to make peace between two of
their neighbours, and on that very day there came there a certain
Lady Katharine, widow of Sir John Cobham, knight, and then wife
of John Wyke of Nynhyde, an aunt of the said William the son of
John, proposing to drive to Shute, thinking that she should be
Godmother to the said infant, and met there a certain Edward
Dygher, servant to the said Sir William Bonevile, who was reputed
to be half-witted in consequence of his being loquacious and
jocular, and who asked her whither she was going. Who answering
quickly said: 'Fool, to Shute to see my nephew made a Christian,'
to which the said Edward replied, with a grin, in his mother
tongue, 'Kate, Kate, ther to by myn pate comystow to late,'
meaning thereby that the baptism of the child was already over.
Whereupon she mounted upon her horse in a passion, and rode home
in deep anger, vowing that she would not see her sister, to wit
the said child's mother, for the next six months, albeit she
should be _in extremis_ and die."

[14] From _The Porlock Monuments_, by the late Mrs. Halliday, a
very able and comprehensive monograph of Harington, with much
collaterally of Bonville.

Thus much for the Lady Katharine's appearance, her disappointment and
displeasure at not being able to be present at the child's baptism,
although she had adjournied so far for that purpose, and her immediate
return. Then a certain John Prentys and two others testify that

"all the matters as to the said Lady Katharine are true, inasmuch
as the whole took place in the said John Prentys' house, where
they themselves were present at the time, and saw and heard all."

Then comes an interesting testimony shewing the lord of Shute still
kept full interest in the older home of the family at Wiscombe, and at
the date of his grandson's birth was engaged near there in a business
transaction with squire Walrond of Bovey, living thereby. Richard
Lutrell and John Prustes relate,--

"on that day Sir William Bonevile was at his manor of Southleigh
busy in setting up certain boundary marks between a parcel of his
own land called Borcombe to the same manor belonging, and the
land of one William Walrond, on which occasion the aforesaid
Richard and John were present at the special request of the said
Sir William Bonevile. And then and there came Andrew Ryden, a
servant of the same Sir William, and told his master that his son
John had a son born to him, upon hearing which the said Sir
William rejoicing exceedingly lifted up his hands, and thanked
God, and immediately mounting upon his horse rode home."

Following this is the evidence of those who witnessed the ceremony of
the christening in the little church on that summer evening, William
Hodesfelde, and Richard Damarle, probably a relative of the child's
grandmother. They also speak of the grandfather's delight and the
present he made his grandson thereon, and say,

"they were present in the said church on that day at the time of
the solemnization of the baptism of the said William the son of
John, to hear vespers, and as soon as the ceremony was over there
came one Walter Walsche, the said William Bonevile's bailiff of
his manor of Stapyldon in the county of Somerset, and told his
master that he had well and finally completed the autumn
gathering, both of his said manor of Stapyldon and his manor of
Sokke, and had brought with him 400 lambs of that year's produce
of the manor of Sokke aforesaid, of which said lambs the said
William Bonevile immediately gave 200 to the said infant then and
there baptized."

Finally we get the information as to who were the child's sponsors and
of the high ecclesiastic who was one of them, and doubtless came
across specially from Newenham Abbey to perform the ceremony, making
his distinguished godson a commensurate present. Thomas Bowyer and
Ralph Northampton remember

"that they were personally present in the said church, and saw
there three long torches burning, and two silver basins, with two
silver ewers full of water, John Legge then Abbot of Newenham and
Sir William Bonevile being the godfathers and Agnes Bygode the
godmother of the same child, upon whom the said Abbot there
bestowed a silver gilt cup of the value, as it was said, of 100
shillings, with 40 shillings in money told, contained in the
same, which as it appeared to them was the most beautiful they
had ever beheld in a like case."

Poor child! The lambs bleating outside, and the glittering gift
cup,--"the most beautiful they had ever beheld,"--and filled with
silver pieces! The costly christening vessels and flaming torches, the
abbot in his robes, the knights and ladies in their splendid apparel,
the clustering parishioners gathered round, curiously and respectfully
to witness the baptism of the heir, and the solemn evening twilight
softly stealing through the casements of the little sanctuary. What a
suggestive picture of country wealth and peace thus surrounding the
first hours of the child, and what a contrast to the scene that was
destined to environ that child's last hours, of whose bitterness, what
seer, had he been then present, would have been bold enough to
predicate? When crushed by misfortune, his son and grandson having
fallen by the sword before his eyes a few weeks previously, and
although bowed by age, yet still attracted by the glamour of the
deadly conflict,--far away from these happy precincts, with a captive
king in his keeping as a ransom, but powerless to save him,--he stood
an unfriended prisoner alone in the hands of a relentless enemy,
surrounded by the ghastly wrecks of a battlefield, and then hastily
perished amid the ghastlier paraphernalia of the scaffold, the axe and
block, the executioner in his mask and the jeering soldiery. With what
boundless mercy are the ultimate issues of these lives of ours hidden
from us!

Being in possession of his large property, it was not likely that a
young man of his distinguished station, in those stirring times should
long remain "with idle hands at home." Accordingly we find him three
years afterward, in 1418, employed in the military service of his
country, for "being then a knight" he proceeded to France in the
retinue of Thomas, Duke of Clarence, brother to Henry V., in that
king's expedition to Normandy. In the first year of Henry VI., 1422,
he served the office of Sheriff of Devon.

In 1428 we get an interesting incident recorded, of amenities passing
between Sir William and his neighbour the Lady Joan Brooke, widow of
Sir Thomas Brooke, of Weycroft, near Axminster, and Holditch Court,
Thorncombe, "on the 14th April of that year Nicholas Wysbeche, Abbot
of Newenham," says Mr. Davidson,

"was appointed with five of his neighbours a mediator in a
dispute between Sir William Bonville of Shute, and Joan widow of
Sir Thomas Brooke, arising from the obstruction of several public
roads and paths in the formation and enclosure of the park at
Weycroft by the lady and her son. The transcript of an instrument
has been preserved which recites the circumstances of the case at
great length, and concludes with an award, which as the abbot
was nominated by the lady Brooke, does credit to his justice as
an umpire, as well as to his hospitality; for after deciding on
every point in favour of Sir William Bonville, and directing all
the ways in question to be thrown open to the public, that the
knight and the lady should ride amicably together to Newenham
Abbey on a day appointed, where they should exchange a kiss in
token of peace and friendship and dine together at the abbot's
table. The deed is dated at Axminster 13 August, 1428."

[Illustration: EFFIGY OF JOHN TALBOT, EARL OF SHREWSBURY, K. G.
WHITCHURCH, SHROPSHIRE--A.D. 1453.]

The brass effigies of Sir Thomas and his lady are in Thorncombe
church, still very perfect.

Amicably and pleasantly settled, and justly too withal by the good
Abbot Wysbeche, and with proper regard to the rights of way exercised
by the public at large, which seem to have been duly cared for and
protected by the lord of Shute.

Nearly fourteen years now elapse before we hear further of him, and
then in 1442, he appears to have held a maritime command, and "sailed
from Plymouth to Bordeaux with twenty-five ships and four thousand
men," and the year following was employed on land service, being
"retained by indenture to serve the king a whole year with twenty men
at arms, and six hundred archers, and was made Seneschal of
Acquitaine."

In 1449, he was commissioned "to serve the king upon the sea, for the
cleansing of robbers and pirates," and the same year he held Taunton
Castle, but was compelled to surrender it to the Duke of York. In 1450
a letter was sent to him amongst others, by the king requesting help
for the preservation of Lower Normandy from the French.

Doubtless in consideration of these military and other services,
actively and faithfully rendered to Henry VI., he was by that king
raised to the honour of the peerage, by writ of summons dated 23
September, 1449,--26 Henry VI.,--to Parliament by the title of BARON
BONVILLE OF CHEWTON (from Chewton-Mendip in Somerset), where he
inherited a large property, derived from his mother as heiress of the
Fitz-Rogers. He was also created a KNIGHT OF THE GARTER, being the one
hundred and eighteenth in the succession of that noble Order.

In 1453 he was ordered to France with a force sent for the relief of
Guienne. While there it is probable he was a participator in the
engagement wherein the gallant Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, lost his
life. The same year "in consideration of his further services he was
constituted Governor of the Castle of Exeter, and the year following,
1454, made Lieutenant of Acquitaine."

From this partial relation of his public services, our thoughts wander
for a time, to the domestic surroundings of his home life.

Lord Bonville married first a lady named Margaret, but who she was the
labours of investigators have as yet failed to discover. By her he had
one son, William, and two daughters,--Philippa, who married William
Grenville, brother to Sir John, and second son of Sir Theobald
Grenville, by Margaret daughter of Sir Hugh Courtenay of Haccombe, by
his third wife Matilda daughter of Sir John Beaumont, and was thus
grandson to Earl Hugh and Margaret Bohun of Colcombe,--and Margaret,
second daughter, who married Sir William Courtenay of Powderham,
Sheriff of Devon in 1483, and who died in 1485.

Lord Bonville wedded secondly, Elizabeth, daughter of Edward
Courtenay, third Earl of Devon, known as "the blind Earl," who died in
1419, and was presumably buried at Ford Abbey; by his wife Matilda,
daughter of Thomas Lord Camoys. She was then the widow of Sir John
Harington, fourth Baron Harington of Aldingham in the County of
Lancaster, and who died 11 Feb., 1417-18. She died 28 October, 1471,
thus surviving her second husband ten years, and her first husband
fifty-three years!--and was probably buried with her first husband in
Porlock church, where they founded a perpetual Chantry, and where
their splendid tomb still exists, with effigies recumbent; moved
probably from its antient position, and now much shorn by time and ill
usage of its original glory, but still displaying ample evidence of
the taste and skill of the mediæval craftsman. By his second marriage
Lord Bonville left no issue.

The figures on the monument at Porlock are sculptured in alabaster,
and Lady Harington-Bonville wears cote-hardie and gown, with mantle
over, fastened across the breast by cordon and tassels. Around the
hips is a rich cincture, and a double chain with dependant jewel
encircles the neck. The head-dress is horned, the hair secured in a
reticulated caul splendidly embroidered, and with jewelled ornaments
filling the interstices. Just over the brow is a band-coronet, studded
with pearls and crested by fleurs-de-lys, and her fingers are
ornamented with rings. Angels support the cushions on which her head
rests, and an animal, probably intended for a boar, as allusive to her
family, is at her feet. Lord Harington is in plate armour, orle around
his bascinet, plate gorget, large epaulières with deeply scolloped
terminations, diagonally placed sword-belt with sword, rich baudrick
across the hips with anelace, small tuilles, gauntlets, and about his
neck a chain of ornamented link-work, with the usual trefoil clasp and
small pendant. The head reclines on a helmet with crest of _a lion's
head couped at the shoulders_, and angels were originally on each side
supporting it. The feet rest on a lion. The armour is of an
interesting character, and of later date than that worn at the death
of the knight, being referable to what was in use about the middle of
the fifteenth century, accounted for by the appearance of his wife by
his side, who survived him more than half a century. There is a fine
canopy over the effigies.

[Illustration: EFFIGIES OF ELIZABETH COURTENAY, LADY BONVILLE,
AND HER FIRST HUSBAND, JOHN, FOURTH BARON HARINGTON OF ALDINGHAM,
PORLOCK CHURCH, SOMERSET.--A.D. 1417-71.]

We broke off our little personal history in the year 1454, when
presumably Lord Bonville had returned from Aquitaine, of which
province he had been made Lieutenant. The next glimpse we get of him
is in the year following, and the incident, that brings him before us,
is quite in keeping with the belligerent spirit of the times, and
which seems to have invaded both public and private life at this
turbulent and lawless era. The old historian, Westcote, gives a
succinct outline of this remarkable quarrel,

"In this parish (Colyton) are yet remaining the two antient seats
of two illustrious families, Colcombe of Courtenay, Earl of
Devonshire, and Shute alias Sheet, of the Lord Bonvile; each of
them having their parks and large lati-funds (broad-acres),
but seldom any good neighbourhood, familiarity, or friendship
between them. This emulation increased at length to a quarrel,
and eagerly taken a both sides, about a couple of dogs, or
hounds, if you will, which could not by any mediation of friends,
or intercession of their equals, be qualified or appeased, until
it was valiantly tried in a single combat (which is now by a
fitter word termed a duel,) upon Clist-Heath, which manfully and
constantly performed by both parties, and after they had well
tried one the other's strength and valour, and with their sharp
swords, they at last lovingly agreed and embraced each other, and
ever after there continued great love and amity between them."

Shute was antiently part of Colyton, its church being a dependant
chapelry,--it now forms a distinct parish.

A very singular spectacle, this valiant performance, between these
noble neighbours, and ending according to the gossiping topographer in
genuine three-volume style. Dugdale says, Lord Bonville had the best
of the encounter, and Prince, after narrating the bellicose
transaction and "the great love and amity" said to have existed
between the combatants afterward, naïvely adds, "which I can hardly
believe for a reason, which hereafter may be observed in reference to
this Lord." Cleaveland however gives probably the truer version of its
cause, observing

"But Hollingshed and others do say, that several men on both
sides were slain in the quarrel, and that the Lord Bonvile
prevailed and went to Exeter, and had the gates opened to him.
And this is most likely to be true, for there was a great
animosity between those two great men, before this quarrel
happened, they being engaged in different parties; the Earl of
Devonshire was zealous for the house of Lancaster, and the Lord
Bonvile for the house of York, and the civil war between these
houses did then begin to break out, and no wonder the city of
Exeter opened its gates, to the Lord Bonvile, for the Duke of
York had at that time all the power in his hands, and no doubt
the city favoured those of the prevailing side. But whoever had
the better of it in this quarrel, both the Earl of Devonshire and
Lord Bonvile were great sufferers by that bloody and unnatural
war, for the Earl's three sons, successively Earls of Devon, lost
their lives for that quarrel for the house of Lancaster, and it
is said by some the Earl himself came to an untimely end by it.
And the Lord Bonvile lost both his son and grandson in the battle
of Wakefield, and the Lord himself was put to death after the
second battle of St. Alban's. The Earl's family became _extinct_
as to the first branch of that illustrious house, and the Lord
Bonvile's became _wholly extinct_."

A large and melancholy history in a few lines, and a pertinent
illustration of the effects and horrors of civil war, but this new
position of affairs requires careful scrutiny, as far as the slender
means at disposal afford.

Up to 1454, at least, Lord Bonville's allegiance must have been true
to the interests of the king, Henry VI. He had been employed, as would
be usual with men of his position and military aptitude, in the
warlike expeditions of the time abroad, and in the command of the
forces on land and sea, at home. In this respect he was evidently
esteemed an able and trusted servant, and the king had rewarded these
services by conferring on him a peerage, and investing him with the
order of the Garter, two of the highest honours at the sovereign's
disposal, and it would be presumable, in view of the foregoing, that
Lord Bonville's sympathies would naturally be on the side of Henry
VI., and the cause of the Red Rose, in the bitter conflict then just
beginning to be developed.

Although we have no direct testimony to the contrary in the earlier
stages of the warfare, as to Lord Bonville's then actually throwing in
his lot with the partizans of the White Rose, still the inferential
evidence remaining seems to point to it. The quarrel between Courtenay
and himself, although said to be over a couple of dogs,--if it really
happened as described,--had its basis probably in the absorbing social
questions that then stirred men's hearts to the deepest. A strange and
fierce development of ill-feeling, such as is related, between
neighbours and almost relatives of such distinguished station, could
scarcely arise except over some very weighty cause. Lord Bonville was
then married to the aunt of the Earl Thomas Courtenay he is said to
have fought with, and it is also fairly presumable they were close
neighbours, living within a mile of each other, the one at Shute and
the other at Colcombe. The Earl of Devon had married Margaret Beaufort
daughter of John, Earl of Somerset, and grand-daughter of John of
Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster; three of their children were buried at
Colyton, and the beautiful monument in the church is considered to be
the memorial of his wife, the Countess Margaret herself, so the Earl
and his family must have been in residence there about that time.

Beyond this encounter, presumably begotten through the combatants
holding opposite views in the contending factions, we have no direct
evidence for four or five years as to Lord Bonville's active
participation in the fortunes of the White Rose.

Before proceeding further, we had better resume our notes as to the
family relationships following in Lord Bonville's domestic circle, and
their possible influence eventually on him.

William Bonville, Lord Bonville's only son by his first wife, was
probably born about 1416-17, soon after which date his father wedded
his second wife, Elizabeth Courtenay, widow of John, fourth Lord
Harington.

He married about 1440, Elizabeth sole daughter and heir of William,
fifth and last Lord Harington of Aldingham, who died 3 March, 1458,
brother and heir to his stepmother's first husband. One son, William,
was the issue of this marriage; the mother appears to have died in the
lifetime of her father, Lord Harington, for at the _inq. post mortem_
following his death, held April, 1458, this grandson William, son of
his daughter Elizabeth, was found his next heir, and then aged 16
years. The above William Bonville, the father, fell at the battle of
Wakefield, 31 Dec., 1460, fighting on the side of the White Rose.
Between the date of his wife's father's death in March, 1458, and his
own decease in Dec., 1460, he would by courtesy bear the title of Lord
Harington, _jure uxoris_.

William Bonville, only son of the foregoing William Bonville, _jure
uxoris_ Lord Harington, and grandson of Lord Bonville, was born about
1441-2.

He made a distinguished match indeed, having married Katharine, fifth
daughter of Sir Richard Nevill, K.G., eldest son of Sir Ralph Nevill,
K.G., the first Earl of Westmoreland, who died in 1425, by his second
wife the Lady Joan Beaufort, daughter of John of Gaunt, Duke of
Lancaster, and Katharine Swynford.

Her mother was the Lady Alice Montacute, daughter and heir of Sir
Thomas de Montacute, K.G., Earl of Salisbury, Baron Montacute and
Monthermer, who died 1428,--by his wife the Lady Elizabeth
Plantagenet, daughter of Thomas, and sister of Edmund, Earl of Kent;
and in her father Sir Richard Nevill, was revived in 1442 the title of
Earl of Salisbury, and the Baronies of Montacute and Monthermer.

Thus the Lady Katharine Bonville was sister to Richard Nevill, the
"great Earl of Warwick, the king-maker," and aunt to his daughters,
the Lady Isabel who married George Plantagenet, Duke of Clarence,
brother to Edward IV., drowned in a butt of malmsey in the Tower,
whose son Edward was cruelly beheaded by Henry VII., and whose
daughter Margaret, the aged Countess of Salisbury was remorselessly
butchered by Henry VIII.; and also to the Lady Anne, married first to
Edward, Prince of Wales, son of Henry VI.,--so foully slain by Edward
IV. and Richard, Duke of Gloucester, or by their orders, immediately
after the battle of Tewkesbury,--and to whom, as that poor prince's
widow, Gloucester, afterward king Richard III., was subsequently
married.

The Lady Katharine Bonville was also sister to George Nevill, Bishop
of Exeter, between 1455-65,--and afterward Archbishop of York and Lord
Chancellor. Of this prelate the only remaining remembrance of his ten
years' supervision of the diocese appears on the shield in the east
window of Branscombe church.

William Bonville, her husband, only son of William Bonville, Lord
Harington _jure uxoris_,--and grandson of Lord William Bonville,
K.G.,--also fell with his father at the battle of Wakefield, fighting
on the side of York and the White Rose, and when he could have been
scarcely twenty years of age.

He left one infant daughter, Cecilia or Cicely Bonville, at her
father's untimely death probably under a year old.

Lady Katharine Bonville married secondly Sir William de Hastings, the
first Lord Hastings of Ashby-de-la-Zouch. He was the eldest son and
heir of Sir Leonard de Hastings, who died in 1456, by his wife Alice,
daughter of Thomas, Lord Camoys. The career of this prominent man, and
his tragic death, form one of the most remarkable episodes in English
history, is strangely, but directly interwoven with our little
narrative, and the relation of which, however well worn, could not be
passed over here.

He acted a conspicuous part in the political events of the time, was a
devoted Yorkist, to whom Edward IV. was greatly attached, and who
literally heaped appointments, honours, and possessions upon him. He
was constituted at various times, Master of the Mint (coining, during
his term of office, the first new gold piece, value eight shillings
and four pence, called the "Noble"), Steward of numerous Royal manors,
and Ranger of Royal Forests,--Constable of Leicester, Nottingham, and
several other Castles,--Captain of Calais and its dependencies,
Chamberlain of the Exchequer, Lord Chamberlain of the Household, and
Chamberlain of Wales. On 26 July, 1461,--1 Edward IV.,--he was created
by patent Baron Hastings of Ashby-de-la-Zouch, and afterward invested
with the dignity of the Garter.

Then comes a curious and special bit of family history, strongly
reflecting the habits and policy of the age, that has a most
interesting bearing on our annals. On 14 April, 1464, he entered "into
an agreement with Dame Elizabeth Grey, late wife of Sir John Grey,
knt., son and heir of Edward Grey, late Lord Ferrers, that he should
have the wardship of her son Thomas (afterward Marquis of Dorset), on
whose part it was stipulated, that he should, within five or six years
afterward, _marry the eldest daughter of Lord Hastings that might then
be living_."

A monstrous arrangement, thus to betroth young people, mere children
often, _nolens volens_, but a very common one at the period. Now it so
happened that the mother of Thomas Grey became Queen to Edward IV.,
and Lord Hastings had married the Lady Katharine Bonville, whose only
child by her first husband was Cicely. It is true that by Lord
Hastings she subsequently had another daughter, Anne, who married
George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, but Cicely Bonville was one of the
greatest heiresses in England, which the young man's mother, the
Queen, and her husband, Edward IV., were quite aware of. Thomas Grey,
however, Lord Hastings' ward, who must have been considerably older
than Cicely, does not seem to have waited for her, but married first,
Anne daughter of Henry Holland, Duke of Exeter,--she however appears
to have died sufficiently in time for him to marry Cicely. Lord and
Lady Hastings had been legally constituted the guardians of Cicely,
together with the custody of her estates, and her coming of age was
fixed at sixteen years. Immediately after this, which would be about
1476-7, she appears to have been married to the Marquis, but at the
time the "arrangement" for her marriage was entered into by her
step-father, Lord Hastings, she could not have been more than four or
five years old.

Thus one nice little family compact was negociated, and contained the
secret of Cicely's alliance, which altogether turned out to be happy
enough. The agreement of marriage with the eldest daughter of Lord
Hastings was thus construed to include his wife's also, if that was
not really intended to be the essence of the contract in the first
instance. The step-son of the king was to be married to the
step-daughter of his friend and favourite, a rich heiress in her own
right and also to the titles of Bonville and Harington.

The ward, or guardianship, of fatherless or orphan children of noble
parentage, was a trust practically vested in the king, or crown, and
by him was usually given to some Court favourite, being eagerly sought
after as a rule, because it generally conferred the almost absolute
control both of the ward's property and future destiny, and of wedding
him or her, if desirable, to a child of the guardian nominated. Lord
Hastings, from his position and influence, appears to have acquired
and exercised this questionable position to the utmost, as will be
seen.

For this was only one of the wardships obtained by Lord Hastings,
because he had sons as well as daughters to be wedded. He further
procured the wardship of Mary, only daughter of Sir Thomas Hungerford,
who was tried and beheaded at Salisbury, 8 Edward IV., and entered
into an agreement with her mother and step-father, that Edward his son
and heir should in due time take her to wife, and in the event of
Edward's death, then George or Richard, the younger brothers. Edward
Hastings however lived to marry Mary Hungerford, sole heiress of the
elder descent, and to the baronial titles of Hungerford, Bottreaux,
Molyns, and Moels, which were afterward revived in his person by Henry
VII.

We have mentioned Lord Hastings had one daughter also, by his wife
Katharine Neville-Bonville, named Anne, and she had to be provided
for. The Marquis of Dorset had been allotted to his step-daughter
Cicely Bonville, and therefore from a clause in his will we learn that
he had yet another "ward and marriage to him granted," in the person
of George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, and if George should die, then
the contract was to extend to his next brother Thomas. But George
lived to marry the young lady. So these family compacts were arranged
and went merrily forward. Property, honours, and influence, appear to
have been the sole objects of these unnatural arrangements; love and
natural predilection not considered at all, and nowhere, being
evidently not deemed of the least importance,--marriage being treated
in all respects as a "matter of mere attorneyship." And do not these
transactions afford a clue to the amours and intrigues that infested
the age? The vengeful results of outraged hearts, and the sure
outcome.

Shakspeare well describes this 'brokerage' of marriageable maidens, in
the fourth act of the third part of _Henry VI_.--

HASTINGS. 'Tis better using France than trusting France:
Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas,
Which he hath given for fence impregnable,
And with their helps only defend ourselves;
In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.

CLARENCE. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserves
To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.

KING EDWARD Ay, what of that? it was my will, and grant;
And, for this once, my will shall stand for law.

GLOUCESTER. And yet, methinks, your grace hath not done well,
To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales
Unto the brother of your loving bride;
She better would have fitted me, or Clarence:
But in your bride you bury brotherhood.

CLARENCE. Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir
Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son,
And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.

KING EDWARD. Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a wife
That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.

CLARENCE. In choosing for yourself, you show'd your judgment;
Which being shallow, you shall give me leave
To play the broker in mine own behalf;
And, to that end, I shortly mind to leave you.

In 1470 Hastings accompanied Edward IV. in his hasty flight from Lynn,
in Norfolk, to Holland, when he also so narrowly escaped capture by
the Easterlings, and the king had nothing beyond his "gown lined with
martens" to pay the captain of the ship for his voyage. He also
returned with that monarch, when he landed at Ravenspur, to reclaim
the kingdom,--the place where Henry of Bolingbroke, a century and a
half previously, had disembarked to dethrone Richard II. Although his
wife's brother was the 'king-maker,' and engaged in the opposite
interest, Hastings remained loyal to Edward IV., and at the battle of
Barnet, on April 14, which ended so disastrously for Warwick, was one
of the king's principal commanders. So also he took active part in the
decisive action at Tewkesbury on 4th of May following. Then comes the
darkest episode in this nobleman's career. The Queen Margaret and her
son, the Prince Edward, were made prisoners, and the royal youth was
ushered into Edward's presence, who, flushed with success,
ungenerously asked him "How he dared to invade his dominions," to
which question, the answer was proudly but perhaps imprudently given,
"To claim my father's crown and mine own inheritance." Stung probably
by the conscious truth and nobleness of the reply, Edward unmanfully
struck the youth on the mouth with his gauntlet, whereon the Dukes of
Clarence and Gloucester, the Lords Hastings and Dorset, taking this as
a signal for further violence, hurried the prince away from Edward's
presence, and despatched him with their swords. Pity evaporates over
any misfortunes that may overtake men guilty of such deeds as this. In
1474 he got leave from the king to 'unpark' some seven thousand acres
at Ashby-de-la-Zouch, and elsewhere, and to 'fortify' his mansions on
his different manors, specially the magnificent castle he erected at
Ashby. He was in the retinue of Edward at the inglorious peace of
Pecquigny, and got his share of the spoil, "his French Majesty at one
time making him a present of plate valued at ten thousand marks." He
is said to have refused at first to accept the pension awarded him on
this occasion by the king of France, but "after some courteous and
friendly correspondence" consented to receive it in a left-handed way,
refusing to give any receipt for it, saying, "put it (the gold) here
into my sleeve, for other acknowledgment you get none from me, for no
man shall say, that king Edward's Lord Chamberlain hath been pensioner
to the French king, nor that my acquittances be found in his Chamber
of Accounts." So these 'great' men magnanimously salved their qualms
of conscience, and satisfied the questions of their pride; and it is
further added, his pension was ever after paid without further
acquittance.

Then came his amour, or rather passion, for the beautiful Jane
Wainstead, afterward Jane Shore. It is related he was smitten by her
charms while still under her father's roof, and his attentions aroused
the suspicions of her father, who thereupon, to save his daughter, got
her suitably married to Mr. Matthew Shore, the goldsmith of Lombard
Street. Hastings not to be baffled, followed his prey after her
marriage, until on an occasion, when he attempted to pass the
boundary of honour, he got indignantly discharged and interdicted all
future communication. Thereon he is said, out of revenge, to have sent
the royal spoiler on the track, with a success but too well known.
Hastings' old affection however appears to have survived, and at
Edward's death he took her,--all sullied in reputation as she
was,--under his protection, until the day of his own death, his
acquaintanceship with her being made a chief accusation against him by
the relentless Gloucester.

Although so devoted to the king, Edward IV., he was by no means
friendly disposed toward his Queen, Elizabeth Woodville, and at king
Edward's death this dislike evidently greatly increased, which was in
great measure the Queen's fault, as she manifested considerable
antipathy toward the older nobility, being much wrapt up in the
welfare of her own family, but recently ennobled. Doubtless Hastings
and others saw this, and it had its due influence on them; but he was
perfectly loyal to the king's children. Almost immediately after
Edward's decease Hastings and Buckingham were sent for to confer with
Gloucester at Northampton, the young king being then with his uncle
and governor the Earl Rivers at Ludlow Castle, and his brother, the
Duke of York, with the Queen-mother in London. At this meeting was
urged the danger of the Queen-mother's influence, the necessity of
removing the young princes from her control, the advisability of
Gloucester's assuming the Protectorate, and the securing and, if
necessary, destroying the persons of the Rivers and Grey families as
dangerous to the common peace. All this the well-pleased and astute
Gloucester cleverly managed, and Hastings was sent on to London to
pacify the city, where he had great influence, and when the citizens
in alarm at hearing of the apprehension of Rivers and others, the
young king's attendants, and that they had been sent northwards toward
Pontefract, he deceived them with the assurance that they were simply
transported thither for conspiring against Gloucester and Buckingham,
and would be duly put on their trial; and Gloucester completed the
illusion by bringing the young king with much ceremony to London. Soon
after, Hastings "readily gave his assent" to the execution of the Earl
Rivers and others in custody at Pontefract, although still ignorant of
Gloucester's final design, and still more so of the grim fate that was
hanging over his own head, for it was also agreed on by those in the
secret, that he himself,--whose interest for the young king was well
known,--should be gained over in harmony with the project, or
dispatched out of the way, if necessary.

Although Hastings does not seem to have seen through Gloucester's
designs, his companion and friend Lord Stanley, "a man of deep
penetration," appears to have comprehended the whole situation, and
spoke his mind fully thereon to his colleagues, then assembling day by
day making preparations for the young king's coronation, of which
council Hastings was a member with others, the young king's friends,
but Hastings, it is related, still doubted Gloucester's plotting, and
also that the other council, sitting under Gloucester's presidency at
Crosby Place, were engaged in no design against the young king, and
that he would "pawn his life" if anything detrimental to the youthful
monarch were transacted there, he should be instantly informed of it
by a trusty member thereof, devoted to the king's interests; moreover
he was still prepossessed of Gloucester, and believed his council were
only desirous of humbling the Queen's party, whom he, Hastings, so
greatly disliked.

This 'trusty member' was none other than Richard Catesby, "a lawyer,
who had, through Lord Hastings' means, been placed in a position of
considerable trust, in the counties of Northampton and Leicester,
where Hastings' property lay," and this man, his friend and confidant
as he supposed he was, eventually betrayed him. Stanley's fears, it
seems, were greatly modified or allayed by Hastings' assertions, and
they quietly proceeded with their arrangements for the coronation,
while Gloucester was carefully doing all he could to prevent it, and
secretly and busily laying his dark plans for a very different issue.
Catesby, who had become the creature of Gloucester, unknown to
Hastings, was despatched by Gloucester to sound Hastings, "with all
the caution imaginable," most carefully guarding the grand secret. The
part was well played, and Hastings, not distrusting Catesby, told him
of Stanley's suspicions, and that for himself, rather than the late
king's children should be deprived of their rights, he would see ruin
and destruction overtake Gloucester and Buckingham, and that he would
employ every means in his power, even to his very life, to prevent its
succeeding.

All this intelligence Catesby carefully transmitted to Gloucester. Its
receipt appears to have greatly embarrassed him, as Gloucester greatly
desired to secure Hastings' adherence, knowing the importance his
assistance would afford. Wishing therefore to be perfectly assured of
the attitude Hastings was likely to assume, and to a considerable
extent fearing his influence if exerted for the king, Gloucester sent
Catesby to him a second time, with instructions to get as complete an
answer as possible. Catesby appears to have spoken plainly in this
second interview of Gloucester's designs, and to have received similar
answer to that given at their first parlance, and he left Hastings
with the knowledge that he had discovered Gloucester's intentions, and
also revealed to him his own treachery. Gloucester in due time was
made acquainted with the fact that in Hastings he had, under the
circumstances, now only an adversary to deal with. The Protector's
mind was soon made up, and Hastings' death resolved on; no one was to
stand between him and the throne, and live.

On June 15, 1483, Gloucester called a council at the Tower, ostensibly
to finish the preparations for the king's coronation. Rapin, from
information condensed from the various old chroniclers, thus
circumstantially describes the final scene,--

"The Protector came himself at nine o'clock in the morning with a
cheerful countenance, courteously saluting the lords, as if he
had nothing in his mind that gave him the least uneasiness. After
that he went out and desired the council to continue their
deliberations in his absence.

"About an hour after, he returned with an angry countenance,
knitting his brows, and biting his lips, and shewing all possible
signs of perturbation of mind. Remaining some time without
speaking, he broke silence with these words,--_My Lords, what
punishment do they deserve who have plotted against my life?_'
The Lords not immediately answering, Lord Hastings replied,
'_Whoever is guilty of that crime ought to be punished as a
traitor_.' The Duke answered, '_It is that sorceress my
sister-in-law, with her accomplices_.' These words astonished
many of the council who favoured the Queen, being afraid this
accusation concerned them. But the Lord Hastings was far from any
such fear. All knew he was a sworn enemy to the Queen, and
consequently there was no likelihood of his joining her in such a
design. Besides, he had lately approved of the order sent to
Pontefract to behead the lords prisoners, who were to be executed
that very day.

"After a short pause the Protector, unbuttoning his left sleeve,
shewed the Council his arm, dried and withered, saying with
extreme emotion, '_See what that sorceress, and Shore's wife have
done by their witchcrafts. They have reduced my arm as you see,
and my whole body would fain have been the same, if by God's
mercy their infamous plot had not been discovered._' These words
caused a greater surprise than the former, the whole Council
knowing the Duke's arm had long been in that condition; besides,
if the Queen had framed such a project, Jane Shore would have
been the last person she would have imparted it to, since of all
women she most hated her.

"The Lord Hastings who, since Edward's death, had kept Jane
Shore, perceiving she was involved in the accusation, could not
forbear to shew how much he doubted her being guilty by saying,
'_If they had committed such a crime they deserved to be
punished_.'

"Then the Protector raising his voice said, '_What, dost thou
answer me with 'Ifs' and 'Ands,' as if I forged this accusation?
I tell thee they have conspired my death, and thou thyself art
accessory to the crime._' As he ended these words he struck the
table twice with his fist, and immediately the room was filled
with armed men.

"As soon as they were in, the Protector turning to Lord Hastings
said to him, '_I arrest thee for High Treason.' 'Who, me, my
Lord_,' answered Hastings. '_Yes, thee traitor_,' replied the
Protector. At the same time he delivered him to the custody of
the soldiers.

"During the bustle one of the soldiers would have cleft the Lord
Stanley's skull, with a battle-axe. But he avoided part of the
blow by sinking under the table, however he was dangerously
wounded. Probably the soldier had orders to kill him as it were
by chance, under pretence that he would have defended the Lord
Hastings. It is not hard to guess why the Protector desired to be
rid of him. Having missed his aim, Stanley was arrested with the
Archbishop of York, and the Bishop of Ely, it being the
Protector's interest to put it out of their power to hurt him,
whom he knew to be zealously affected for the young king.

"As for the Lord Hastings, he would scarce give him time to make
confession to the next priest that came, swearing '_By St.
Paul,--he would not dine until his head was struck off_.'
Accordingly he was beheaded upon a log that was found on the
green before the Tower Chapel, the time fixed by the Protector
being too short to erect a scaffold."

So miserably and brutally perished the Lady Katharine Bonville's
_second_ husband, one of the chief friends and favourites of Edward
IV., through the remorseless malice aforethought of that king's
brother, the Duke of Gloucester. Lord Hastings was a prominent, it may
be said, representative character of that age of intrigue and
unscrupulous ambition. Although loyal to Edward and his sons, he was a
"sworn enemy" to Queen Elizabeth Woodville, notwithstanding his wife's
daughter, Cicely Bonville, was married to her eldest son, and he is
said to have "greatly contributed" to the execution of the prisoners
at Pontefract, Anthony, Earl Rivers, and Richard, Lord Grey, the
Queen's brothers, and near relatives of his step-daughter Cicely
Bonville's husband, the Marquis of Dorset; by a most remarkable
retribution he was awarded a similar fate to theirs, said to have
occurred on the same day, and at the same hour. His hands too are
reputed to have been imbrued with the blood of Margaret of Anjou's
unfortunate youthful son. His amour with Jane Shore was made the
handle of Gloucester's accusation, and sudden and cruel as his fate
was, it was perhaps merciful as compared with the suffering that was
reserved for her. While Hastings, her protector, lived, her position
was one of comparative safety, but at his death none dared befriend
her, and true to the hideous completeness of the part Gloucester was
acting, she was to be the next victim. Then the poor, frail, beautiful
and withal amiable creature,--Edward used to call her the 'holiest' of
his three mistresses, the other two being respectively the 'wittiest'
and the 'merriest'--one to whom a king, and 'the handsomest man in
Europe' to boot, had paid court, amid unstinted opulence and luxury,
was dragged forth and exposed to the gibes, jeers, and insults of a
vulgar mob, with studied opprobrium publicly disgraced, and finally
with contumely driven away to eke out the remainder of her days in the
most abject poverty, misery, and distress. The purist,--forgetful his
mother was a woman,--may say the degradation was deserved; but there
is no human shortcoming that gives justification for unmanliness, the
most detestable of all crimes.

By his wife Katharine, widow of William Bonville, and daughter of
Richard Nevill, Earl of Salisbury, Lord Hastings had issue four
sons:--1. Edward, eldest son and heir; he married Mary, grand-daughter
and heiress of Robert, Baron Hungerford, Bottreaux, Molyns, and Moels,
and in right of his wife was summoned to Parliament, though still a
minor, in 1483, by the title of Baron Hastings of Hungerford; he died
in 1507.--2. Sir Richard.--3. Sir William.--4. Sir George; and one
daughter, Anne, married to George Talbot, fourth Earl of Shrewsbury.

Lord Hastings made his will 27 June, 1481, bequeaths his body to be
buried in the "_Chapel of Seynt George at Wyndesore_," and "_that
there be ordeigned a tumbe convenient for me by myne executors, and
for the costs of the same I bequeath c marks_." After many religious
bequests,--"_also when George, Erle of Shrewsbury, whose warde and
marriage to be, me is granted, &c.,--hath married Anne my daughter, I
woll that if the same Erle should die, which God defend, &c., that
then Thomas brother of the said Erle take to wife, her the same Anne,
&c._,"--gives to "_Kateryn myn entirely beloved wyff_," sundry manors
and constitutes her one of his executors, and "_ordaynes John, Lord
Dynham_," a contemporary of west-country fame, as one of the
surveyors.

Katharine, Lady Hastings, made her will 22 Nov., 1503, and orders her
body "_to be buried in our Lady Chapell, within the parish church of
Ashby-de-la-Zouch_," gives numerous religious bequests, and "_where I
owe unto Cecilie, Marquesse Dorset, certain summes of money which I
borrowed of her at diverse times, I woll that the said Cecilie in full
contentation of all summes of money as I owe unto her, have my bed of
arres, tittor, tester, and counterpane, which she late borrowed of me;
and over that I woll that she have my tabulet of_ _gold that she now
hath in her hands for a pledge, and three curtains of blew sarcionet,
and three quishons of counterfeit arres with imagery of women, a long
quishon, and two short of blew velvet, also two carpets_;" and "_makes
and ordaines Cercell, Marquis Dorset, widow_," one of her executors.
She died in 1504.

Lord Hastings was buried in the Chantry erected by his widow, and
dedicated to St. Stephen, in the north arcade of the choir of St.
George's Chapel at Windsor Castle. The screen that separates it from
the aisle, is of three stories, the two upper of open work with
tracery. Above is a cornice with Tudor flower cresting, and in the
centre, an open-vizored helmet with mantling, supporting the Hastings'
crest, _from out a ducal coronet, a bull's head affrontée, couped at
the shoulders_. Below are the arms of Hastings, _a maunch sable_, and
this device with the Garter appears in a series below. The screen was
originally richly painted and gilded. There is no monument within it,
and probably there never was such. In general design the Hastings'
Chantry has much in common with Canon Oxenbridge's, on the opposite
side of the choir.

To return to Lord Bonville. We have thus traced as clearly and
succinctly as may be, this somewhat tangled genealogy of their
descents, and its bloodstained surroundings, to clear the ground, and
get a more comprehensive view of the circumstances that may have had
their influence on the last years of Lord Bonville's life, and also to
afford some reason as to when, and why, he finally transferred his
influence and allegiance from the Red to the White Rose.

Our last glimpse of him was in 1455, when he was said to have
"valiantly performed" the duel on Clyst-Heath, with Thomas Courtenay,
Earl of Devon, the real basis of which quarrel it is inferred, but not
authenticated, was his presumed sympathy then with the cause of the
White Rose, and so raised the anger of his antagonist, who was warmly
interested on the side of the Red.

Apart from this rather apochryphal incident, there does not appear to
be any direct evidence of his identification, at least actively, with
the cause of York for the next five years. There were reasons why
perhaps this might not be so. He was then married to his second wife,
a Courtenay, the member of a family strongly identified with the
fortunes of the Red Rose. She was the widow of a wealthy peer, and her
present husband's son was married to the heiress of her first
husband's house, in the person of her niece, the only daughter of his
brother; and there does not appear to be any evidence as to which way
the Haringtons leant toward the impending struggle, that may have
influenced him. Lord Bonville may from conviction have passively
inclined toward the interest of York, but no mention is made of his
being at the first battle of St. Albans (which took place the same
year as the duel on Clyst-Heath) 22 May, 1455, nor as to his being in
any way concerned with the fluctuating aspects of the strife during
the next four years, up to and including the battle of Bloreheath,
which occurred 23 Sep., 1459.

But about 1458-9 a new and very powerful factor found admission into
Lord Bonville's family, in the marriage of his grandson with
Katharine Nevill, the sister of the king-maker, Richard, Earl of
Warwick, the central point around which the hopes of the White Rose
concentrated, while her other brother George Nevill presided over the
diocese of Exeter. It is difficult to estimate the important influence
this relationship would naturally exercise on the Bonvilles,
especially if already inclined that way, and doubtless it did add
considerable weight to turn the scale promptly, and as it turned out
irremediably, on the side of York, as immediate events shew.

Taking the foregoing speculations and surmises, however, only for what
they are worth, by the middle of the year 1460, there could be no
doubt as to the side Lord Bonville had taken, whether by the "subtile
insinuations" of his grandson's wife's family or otherwise. The battle
of Northampton took place 10 July, 1460, and the unfortunate
half-demented Henry VI. being taken prisoner, we are told by Prince,
with probable correctness, the king was, "among others, committed to
the care and custody of the Lord Bonvil."

Doubtless afterward, Lord Bonville, accompanied by his son and
grandson, found distinguished places in the retinue of the king-maker,
in their triumphal march back to London, escorting the captive monarch
in the train.

Short spell of success and victory, soon to be followed by a terrible
nemesis! The scared but determined Margaret of Anjou, and her son
Edward had escaped into Scotland, and presently the dark war-clouds
were again gathering north and south for another sanguinary conflict.
Six months of preparation brought the combatants together, and on the
31 Dec., in the same year, the frightful and merciless battle of
Wakefield shattered, for the time, the hopes of York to the centre.

Among the nobles fighting on the side of Queen Margaret, was Lord
Bonville's neighbour and old antagonist, Thomas Courtenay, Earl of
Devon; and on the other, arrayed in the cause of York, were the three
generations of the Bonvilles, two of whom were destined never to come
out of that fearful conflict alive. Whether in the thick of the
battle, or in the pursuit that followed, may not be related, but both
son and grandson perished, and Prince intensifies its horror by
relating "that both were slain before his (the grandfather--Lord
Bonville's) face."

In the carnage fell also Richard, Duke of York, whose head Margaret,
in womanish revenge, then caused to be struck off and displayed over
one of the gates of York, decorated with a paper crown; while
immediately after, his second son, the Earl of Rutland, a beautiful
boy of thirteen was stabbed to the heart by the savage Clifford.
Eleven years intervened of ceaseless anxiety, and then at Tewkesbury,
Margaret's own son Edward shared a similar dreadful fate at the hands
of his captors.

In the pursuit that followed the battle of Wakefield, during the
night, the Earl of Salisbury--the Lady Katharine Bonville's
father--was captured, taken to Pontefract Castle, and the next day
beheaded. The brother also, Sir Thomas Nevill, was killed in the
engagement,--so that she lost husband, father, and brother in the
fight; misfortunes almost greater than Lord Bonville's.

Thus died in the prime of life William Bonville (Lord Harington), the
father,--and also before he had scarcely emerged from his teens,
William Bonville the son. Probably both found common sepulture on the
battle-field, or unrecorded graves in some sanctuary near. The Earl of
Salisbury's body, and that of his son Thomas, were subsequently
conveyed to Bisham Abbey in Berkshire, and there interred, with others
of their ancestors and kindred.

It would be supposed that the aged Lord Bonville, satiated and stunned
with these accumulated horrors, would have quietly withdrawn from the
desperate dangers of further participation in these conflicts, and
devoted the remainder of his declining days to a more peaceful life,
and the preservation and guardianship of his baby great-grand-daughter,
the last green branch of his antient stock, the infant Cecily. But no,
his very name was now practically extinguished, his son and grandson
were not, and the iron of misfortune had probably entered and seared his
soul. Determined and perhaps reckless of the future on thus seeing all
his hope and ambition blasted, he still followed on, for good or for
evil, to the bitter end, regardless of consequence, the fortune of the
cause he had espoused, and for which he had sacrificed so much. Who may
enter into, or estimate fully the feelings that convulsed the stricken
heart of this old man, under such an avalanche of misery?

But this misery, sharp as it was, was mercifully of short duration.
Six weeks only intervened, in which interval it is probable Lord
Bonville retreated from Wakefield, with such of the discomfited army
that remained unslain, back to join the Earl of Warwick, then waiting
on the outskirts of London to effect a junction with the forces of
Edward, Duke of York, who had just fought and won a decisive victory
over Jasper and Owen Tudor, with a Lancastrian army at Mortimer's
Cross, near Hereford.

Before however this could be accomplished, the energetic Margaret,
flushed with success, and hurrying southward in hope to secure the
metropolis, was upon him; and the furious battle of St. Albans on the
18 Feb., 1460-1, was the result. There she at first received a check,
but by turning the position she fell on Warwick's army, and the combat
was carried on over the undulating country, between St. Albans and
Barnet, in which two thousand Yorkists are said to have perished. At
nightfall, Warwick found himself beaten at all points, and made
precipitate retreat, leaving the King, who was accompanying the army
as a prisoner, behind.

It would require no seer to divine the vindictive thoughts of
Margaret, on regaining possession of her captive husband, and the
consummate danger environing those in whose custody she found him,
whether for preservation or otherwise. The Queen and her son
discovered the helpless man in his tent with one personal attendant
only, Lord Montague his Chamberlain. But there were at least two other
distinguished men near, who were said to have remained to guard him
from the lawless soldiery, one was the brave Sir Thomas Kyriel, and
the other Lord Bonville. Both could doubtless have fled with the rest
of the fugitives, had they been so minded, but it is recorded, that
out of chivalrous feelings, when urged by the King to remain by him
and protect him, they did so, under the assurance from him that their
lives should be preserved.

A fatally hazardous undertaking in those days of merciless reprisals,
and so it turned out. Whatever the well-meaning King may have promised
and perhaps really wished, his wife, the determined Margaret, was the
"master of the situation," and the arbiter of their destiny; nor was
she probably wanting in prompters calculated to urge her to wreak the
worst vengeance upon her husband's guardians. However that may be, it
is recorded, that as she turned from the battle-field in the evening,
she left orders for their decapitation the next day, and the barbarous
sentence was promptly carried out.

Weever says,--

"Sir _Thomas Kiriell_ was beheaded with the Lord _Bouvile_ the
day after the second battell at _St. Albons_, in the raigne of
king Henry the sixth: or slain in the battell according to John
Harding.

'The Lords of the north southward came,
To Sainct _Albones_, vpon fasting gang eve
Wher then thei slewe the Lord Bouvile I leve
And Sir _Thomas Kyriell_ also of Kent,
With mekell folke, that pitee was to se.'"

The old chronicler Hollingshed describing this unhappy transaction
tells us with greater truth,--

"When the daie was closed, those that were about the king (in
number a twenty thousand) hearing how euill their fellowes had
sped, began utterlie to despair of the victorie, and so fell
without anie long tarriance to running awaie. By reason whereof,
the nobles that were about the king, perceiving how the game
went, and withall saw no comfort in the king, but rather a good
will and affection toward the contrarie part, they withdrew also,
leauing the king accompanied by the Lord Bonneuille and Sir
Thomas Kiriell of Kent, which vpon assurance of the king's
promise, tarried with him and fled not. But their trust deceived
them, for at the queenes departing from Saint Albons they were
both beheaded, though contrarie to the mind and promise of her
husband."

No record exists of Lord Bonville's burial place. At the first battle
of St. Alban's, in 1455, the Abbot craved the bodies of the slain
nobles from the victors, and buried them in the choir of the Abbey
Church. But after this second engagement, Margaret's ill-paid,
freebooting soldiers pillaged the town and abbey, so that probably
those that perished were hastily interred near where they fell. This
plundering the abbey "entirely changed the worthy Abbot Whethamstede's
politics, and from being a zealous Lancastrian, he became a Yorkist."

Lord Bonville's ancestors in the direct line were mostly, if not all,
buried in the choir of Newenham Abbey Church, near Axminster, of which
hardly a trace now remains.

At the death of Lord Bonville, his brother Thomas of Tamerton-Foliot,
was still alive, and survived until 11 Feb., 1467. He left one son
John, who deceased in 1494, leaving a daughter Anne, married to
Philip Coplestone. Some years anterior to this, the little
child-heiress of Shute, Cicely Bonville, grown to woman's estate, was
wedded,--and so, before the fifteenth century had closed, the antient
and influential name of Bonville was extinct.[15]

[15] There was a natural strain of the Bonvilles, settled at
Combe-Ralegh, and later at Ivybridge where, "by virtue of a
remainder, this land came unto William Lord Bonvill, which gave
it unto John Bonvill, his naturall sonne, begotten on his
concubine Elizabeth Kirkby, which John Bonvill, having only
daughters, gave it to his natural son, &c." (Pole). There were
several generations of them, and used for their arms those of
Bonville with the addition of _a bend sinister_; they also became
extinct.

It is with feelings of relief that we turn away, at least for a time,
from these scenes of horror. The Wars of the Roses appear to us, we
regret to say, to have been imbued with very little, if any, chivalry.
They were in the main, only fought for the selfish purpose, lust of
power, and as a consequence, were attended by the congenial sinister
characteristics of cruelty, treachery, and revenge. It is noteworthy
however, that notwithstanding so many of the common people shed their
blood and lost their lives thus freely, and it may be added
ignorantly, partly lured and partly compelled probably to take part in
these conflicts, at the bidding of their superiors in station and
wealth striving for the mastery, it was not upon them as a class the
great social misfortunes of the war fell. As a general result, the
engagements being over, their little houses and surroundings were
scarcely ever ravaged or destroyed, the humble partizans in these
sanguinary encounters, if victors, do not seem to have laid waste or
appropriated their beaten neighbours' possessions, but simply kept
their legions together, until their antagonists had time to rally, and
again gather themselves in array for another trial of strength; an
extraordinary, in its way, but by no means uncommon hallucination,
that has first and last, in the world's history, cost millions of
lives, wasted to determine the unmanly and degrading sentiment as to
who should be a nation's master and rule over them;--a totally
opposite aspiration to a people engaged fighting against a tyranny for
liberty. But not thus comparatively scatheless, did the great actors
in and promoters of this sanguinary drama, come off from the effects
of the internecine strife. These men were desperate gamblers for high
stakes, and the loss of the game to them was a fatal mischance,
resulting in the deprivation of their lives, the confiscation of their
estates, and occasionally--as with Bonville and the elder strain of
Courtenay, extermination of their race also. No such terrible social
quarrel ever convulsed England, nor heart-rending dissension so
bitter, sown between the nearest and dearest relatives and friends,
that the very commonest ties of humanity were outraged, dyed in blood,
and trampled under foot, until at last the majority of the most
illustrious families in the land were wrecked in misery and
destruction.

Over such a relation as this, friend of mine, fraught with
contingencies and evils so desperate, let us close the record for
awhile.

* * * * *

Old Shute Park! A royally descending gift of demesne,--as such, sacred
from the intrusion of despoiling hands, and therefore happily
preserved to us undesecrated of Nature's abounding charms and native
beauty.

Here we are, seated on one of its pleasant knolls, throned in
luxuriant ferns, surrounded by magnificent trees, and a calm, sunny,
summer evening. Overhead a congregation of noisy rooks are flapping
about, quarrelling with us apparently for thus intruding on the
solitude of their domain. Below, across the openings of a densely
foliaged avenue, a shadowy train of flying horn and bounding hoof has
passed noiseless as an apparition into the adjoining covert, where
they presently assemble in timorous conclave, at safer distance, alert
and watchful.

"Gold of the reddening sunset, backward thrown
In largess on these old paternal trees,
Thou with false hope or fear did'st never tease
His heart that hoards thee; nor is childhood flown,
From him, whose life no fairer boon hath known
Than that which pleased him earliest, still should please:
And who hath incomes safe from chance as these,
Gone in a moment, yet for life his own?"

Such is the commentary Nature suggests, as we linger on this
delightful acclivity. But what to us is the inspiration of the hour,
whose minds are now busy in contemplation of the olden doings of her
sons?

Look along that glade of venerable oaks, huge, gnarled, and twisted,
the duration of whose lives may be reckoned by centuries, yet still
hale, vigorous and leaf-arrayed, whose outward and visible aspect
during the little cycle of mortal existence that at present looks upon
them, has shewn no appreciable change, and will probably with
unvarying regularity continue to display their perennial Spring
garniture, to many succeeding generations, long after the eyes that
now behold them have closed for ever.

Among them yonder is a veteran with a regal appellative--called after
him, surnamed of Lackland,--"King John's Oak," with which monarch,
tradition delivers it was in existence contemporary. And who is to say
the legend is not correct, especially as every lineament of this aged
grandee of the forest's appearance, goes to confirm it. Could a tongue
be given thee, old tree, what a history mightest thou relate. Then,
probably in the vigour of early youth, thou mayest have witnessed the
_first_ Bonville, that claimed the ownership of this acclivity, pass
cross-bow in hand under thy branches. His influential descendant who
lies at rest in the valley of the far distance, and his still more
celebrated but unfortunate grandson--both, when in the flesh,--with
little doubt thou hast seen. Aye, even the little Lady Cicely--the
_last_ hope of their unfortunate race,--may have toddled and prattled
beneath thy shade, and afterward escorted by her noble husband,
accompanied by his august relative, the moody and astute Henry VII.,
and followed by her fine family, rested beside or near thee, when
that monarch and his host exercised their skill as bowmen in these
delightful glades.

Then a season of desertion and gloom fell for a time over these
erstwhile pleasant precincts; but when the star of the last Tudor
sovereign was in the ascendant, then it again became thy destiny to
welcome the new owner of this historic and time-honoured appanage, and
thenceforward from time to time to greet each succeeding inheritor
down to its genial possessor of the present hour. Here, may we not
appropriately say,

"Beneath thy shadowing leafage dense
What stories have been told;--
Perchance of booty won and shared
Beneath the starry cope,--
Or beauty kept an evil tryste,
Ensnared by love and hope,--
Of old intrigues,
And privy leagues,
Of traitor lips that muttered plots,
Of kin who fought and fell;
Performed long generations since,
If trees had tongues to tell."

Notwithstanding all the devices of man, for perpetuity of
remembrance,--Nature, changing yet changeless, silent, unobtrusive and
unobserved, often continues and preserves the clue that binds all our
generations together, long after our own mortal schemes and efforts,
though projected with the utmost care, have passed away; and carefully
and lovingly bridges the void of Time, if not by actual record, by the
even more true and gracious message of association.

And well it is so; in her tender keeping alone the memory of Bonville
is now seemingly vested, for of their former existence, residence, or
sepulture, otherwise not a vestige recalling their direct line, we
believe, remains. On the capitals of the pillars of Powderham church,
are shields displaying the _torteaux_ of Courtenay, impaling the
_mullets_ of Bonville, allusive to the marriage of Sir William
Courtenay, the Lord of Powderham, who died in 1485, with Margaret
Bonville, daughter of the noble and unfortunate victim of St. Albans,
and a further shield similarly charged, having relation to the same
alliance, is found on the capital of a pillar in Stockland church.
Beyond this, and until the girl-heiress of Shute had been many years
married, if not in her widowhood,--mementos which in due time will
engage our attention--no further trace has been discovered.

We descend from our pleasant elevation, and our steps lead us a short
distance over to what is now called Old Shute. The church stands on a
little acclivity to the left, but in addition to the tower, whose
supporting arches are of Early English type, coeval probably with the
first Bonville,--and were in being when the interesting christening
ceremony, previously recorded, took place,--there is apparently little
of the fabric that was in existence when the name was extinguished.

It is equally doubtful if any part of the present Old Shute House was
erected by them. The portion of the main fabric remaining, as also
the gate-house, are both of Elizabethan origin, and retain evidence of
having been erected by William Pole, Esq. (whose initials W. P. occur
in the spandrels of one of the doorways), who purchased the Bonville's
confiscated inheritance here of Secretary Petre, to whom Queen Mary
gave it, after the attainder and execution of the Duke of Suffolk,
last male representative of the Bonville blood.

And the mention of the name of the Duke of Suffolk brings us back
again to our little annals, and to Cicely, the girl-possessor of this
antient inheritance and a vast accumulation of other family property,
a baroness with the two titles of Bonville and Harington,--altogether
an heiress of the first magnitude.

After her father, grandfather, and great-grandfather's untimely
deaths, her mother the Lady Katharine, and her second husband Lord
Hastings, were constituted, as we have mentioned, her legal guardians,
and had custody of her estates until she was of age, which was fixed
at the mature period of sixteen. But this was considered quite a
marriageable age at that era; and which would have arrived at about
1476-7. We have also described how her stepfather Lord Hastings had
the wardship of her future husband, and so it fell out that in due
time "a convenient marriage was purveyed for her."

Thomas Grey was the eldest son of Sir John Grey of Groby, by his wife
Elizabeth,--daughter of Richard Widville, afterward Earl Rivers,--who
subsequently became Queen to Edward IV. Sir John Grey was killed
fighting on the side of the Red Rose at the second battle of St.
Albans, 18 Feb., 1460-1, the same engagement, after which Cicely's
great-grandfather lost his head.

He was first created Earl of Huntingdon 4 Aug., 1471, a title he
afterward relinquished on his being advanced to the Marquisate of
Dorset, an honour which was performed with great state ceremony 18
April, 1475, "_per cincturam gladii, et capæ honoris et dignitatis
impositionem_, the coronet being omitted. Upon which day he sate in
his habit at the upper end of the table among the knights in St.
Edward's chamber."

The rich girl-bride was his second wife, and presumably he was
considerably her senior in years. His first wife was both of royal
descent and alliance, being his step-father's niece, Anne daughter of
the unfortunate Henry Holland, the last Duke of Exeter, found drowned
between Calais and Dover in 1473,--by his wife Anne, daughter of
Richard, Duke of York, and sister to Edward IV. There does not appear
to have been any issue of this marriage.

By his second wife Cicely Bonville, the Marquis is said to have had
the large family of fifteen (Leland makes it only fourteen) children,
seven sons and eight daughters.

Of the sons, Thomas the eldest succeeded his father to the title.

Leonard, was in 1536 created Viscount Graney in the peerage of
Ireland, and same year authorized to execute the office of Deputy of
Ireland under Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond, natural son of king
Henry VIII., by Elizabeth daughter of Sir John Blount, and widow of
Gilbert, Lord Talboys. In 1540 he was recalled, and the next year
articles of high treason were exhibited against him, and although
he had shewn the king good services formerly both in France and
Ireland, was charged with a purpose to join Cardinal Pole and other
the king's enemies, and to that end had left the king's ordnance in
Galloway, and consented to the escape of his nephew Gerald (son of his
sister Eleanor), and being brought to trial confessed all. He was
thereupon beheaded on Tower Hill, and attainted by the Parliament then
sitting.

[Illustration: OLD SHUTE GATEWAY.]

This nephew, he had consented to the escape of, was Gerald, his
sister's eldest son, who subsequently became the eleventh Earl of
Kildare. He was born in 1525, and at the time of his half-brother's
execution about ten years of age. Henry VIII., "being very averse to
his whole family, and offering large sums of money for his
apprehension," the poor youth's peril was imminent, and his escapes
almost marvellous, from the treachery that environed him, and plots
laid to get possession of his person; besides disease and accidents of
extraordinary nature that otherwise threatened his existence. But he
contrived to keep safe until after the death of Henry VIII., when
Edward VI. reinstated him in much of his forfeited property, and Queen
Mary, at the intercession of Cardinal Pole, restored him, 13 May,
1554, to the titles of Baron Offaley and Earl of Kildare.

George was in holy orders. Edward and Anthony died young, and John, of
whom we have no further account.

Of the daughters,--Dorothy married first, Robert, the second Lord
Willoughby de Broke, and secondly, William Blount, seventh Lord
Montjoy, who died in 1594.

Cicely married John Sutton, seventh Lord Dudley,--"a man of weak
understanding, who became entangled in usurer's bonds, and at last
became exposed to the charity of his friends for subsistence, and
spending the remainder of his life in visits among them, was commonly
called _Lord Quondam_."

Mary, as his first wife, to Walter Devereux, Lord Ferrers of Chartley,
and Bourchier, created first Viscount Hereford, 1549, and K.G.

Margaret, as his second wife, to Richard Wake, of Hartwell,
Northamptonshire, second son and heir of Roger Wake of Blisworth in
the same county, who died 19 Henry VII., 1504.

Elizabeth, as his first wife, to Sir John Arundell of Lanherne,
Cornwall. He was the eldest son of Sir Thomas Arundell, K.B., who died
1 Oct., 1485, by Katharine, third daughter of Sir John Dinham, and
coheir to her brother John, Lord Dinham; their daughter Elizabeth was
wife of Giles, Lord Daubeney, K.G. "Sir John Arundell was made a
Knight of the Bath on the eve of All Saints, 31 October, 1494, Knight
of the Garter, 1501, and Knight Banneret in the expedition to
Terouenne and Tournay at the battle of 'the Spurs,' in 1513, Receiver
of the Duchy of Cornwall in 1506, and Receiver General for life, 1509"
(Dunkin). He died 36 Henry VIII., 1545. Their second son Thomas was
ancestor of the Lords Arundel of Wardour.

Their splendid and originally richly enamelled brass still exists in
the church of St. Columb-Major, Cornwall, in a fairly complete state,
the knight bare-headed, but otherwise in complete armour, between his
two wives (the second was Katharine, daughter of Sir Thomas
Grenville), in gowns, mantles, and pedimental head-dresses. Below them
were two smaller male figures, one partly perfect in armour, and
underneath again, six female children, of whom two remain. The
inscription, partly missing, is on a ledger-line,--

? =John Arundell Knyght of ye Bath and Knyght Banneret
Recey ... ye Duchye of Cornewall ffirst Ma ...
Elizabeth Grey Daughter to the Lorde Marques Dorse
& after Kateryn ye Daughter of Syr Thomas Gre ...
... ght of ffebruary the xxxvi yere of
the raigne of Kyng Henry the Eyght an^o domine 1545
and ye yere of his age=

There were formerly eight shields of arms; of these six remain
quartered as follows,--

(1.) _Baron_, quarterly of six:--1. ARUNDELL.--2. DINHAM.--3.
ARCHES.--4. CHIDEOCK.--5. CARMINOW.--6. ARUNDELL;--impaling _femme_,
quarterly of eight,--1. GREY.--2. HASTINGS.--3. VALENCE. 4. FERRERS OF
GROBY.--5. ASTLEY.--6. WIDVILLE.--7. BONVILLE.--8. HARINGTON. For Sir
John Arundell, and the Lady Elizabeth Grey, his first wife.

(2.) _Baron_, quarterly of six as before, impaling _femme_, quarterly
of four:--1 and 4. GRENVILLE.--2 and 3. WHITLEY. For Sir John Arundell
and Katharine Grenville his second wife.

(3.) _Baron_, as before, impaling _femme_, quarterly of four:--1.
HOWARD.--2. BROTHERTON.--3. WARREN.--4. MOWBRAY. For Sir Thomas
Arundell (second son of Sir John), and his wife Margaret Howard,
daughter of Lord Edmund Howard, and sister of Queen Katharine Howard.

(4.) _Baron_, quarterly of four:--1 and 4. EDGCUMBE.--2 and 3.
HOLLAND;--impaling _femme_, Arundell and other quartered coats as
before. For Richard Edgcumbe and Elizabeth daughter of Sir John
Arundell.

(5.) _Baron_, quarterly of eight:--1. RATCLIFFE.--2. FITZ-WALTER.--3.
BURNELL.--4. BOTETOURT.--5. LUCY.--6. MILTON.--7. MORTIMER OF
NORFOLK.--8. CULCHETH?;--impaling _femme_, Arundell with quartered
coats as before. For Mary (daughter of Sir John Arundell and his
second wife Katharine Grenville;) and her _first_ husband, Robert
Ratcliffe, Earl of Sussex.

(6.) _Baron_, quarterly of four:--1. FITZ-ALAN.--2. Fitz-Alan of
Bedale.--3. Widville.--4, quarterly, 1 and 4 Maltravers. 2 and 3
Clun;--impaling _femme_, Arundell, &c., as before. For Mary Arundell,
as above, and her _second_ husband, Henry Howard, Earl of Arundel.

Although, from his memorial brass, Sir John Arundell is presumably
buried here, Weever, in his notice of St. Mary Woolnoth, London,
gives this inscription as being found in that church for him,--

"HERE LIETH SIR _JOHN ARUNDELL_ KNIGHT OF THE BATH, AND
KNIGHT BANERET, RECEIVOR OF THE DUCHY .................
GREY DAUGHTER TO THE LORD MARQUESE _DORSET_, WHO
DIED 8 FEBR: THE 36 OF THE REIGNE OF KING _HEN._ THE 8."

Of the three remaining daughters of Cicely Bonville, Marchioness of
Dorset, Eleanor married as his second wife Gerald Fitzgerald, ninth
Earl of Kildare, for a considerable time Lord Deputy of Ireland during
the reign of Henry VIII. In his prime, he is said to have been "one of
the fairest men then living," and led a very eventful and troubled
life, was greatly disliked by Wolsey, who twice got him cited to
England and sent to the Tower on charges of maladministration, and on
his third committal in 1534 to that fortress, he never emerged again
alive. During his incarceration his son--"called 'Silken Thomas,' of
tall stature, comely proportion, amiable countenance, flexible and
kind nature, and endowed with many accomplishments and good
qualities"--together with his five brothers, engaged in open
insurrection in Ireland. The news of this so "oppressed him with
grief," that it is said to have hastened his death, which took place
in 1534. Six months afterward, the five brothers and their nephew, his
son, "were all six condemned to suffer the punishment of traitors, and
were accordingly executed at Tyburn, on 2 Feb., 1535-6,--being hanged
up, cut down before they were dead and quartered." The Earl was buried
in the Tower Chapel, and on digging a grave therein for Ralph, son of
Sir Owen Hopton, Lieutenant of the Tower in 1580, his coffin was found
with this inscription on it,--

HERE LYETH THE CORPES OF THE L. GERALD FITZ-GERALD, EARLE OF
KYLDARE, WHO DECEASED THE 12TH OF DECEMBER, IN THE YEAR OF OUR
LORD M.CCCCC.XXXIIII. ON WHOSE SOLE JESU HAVE MERCY

Of this Earl, Hollingshed relates that he was

"A wise, deep, and far reaching man; in war valiant and without
rashness; and politic without treachery; such a suppressor of
rebels in his government, as they durst not bear armour to the
annoyance of any subject. He was so religiously addicted to the
serving of God, as what time soever he travelled to any part of
the Country, such as were of his chapel should be sure to follow
him. He was also well affected to his wife, as he would not at
any time buy a suit of apparel for himself, but he would suit her
with the same stuff; which gentleness she recompensed with equal
kindness; for after that he deceased in the Tower, she did not
only ever after live a chaste and honourable widow, but also
nightly before she went to bed, she would resort to his picture,
and there, with a solemn _congé_ she would bid her lord good
night."

Not the least interesting, and almost romantic account, of one of the
many of Cicely Bonville's daughters. The poet Earl of Surrey's 'Fair
Geraldine' was one of this Earl's children.

Of the Marchioness's two remaining daughters, Anne was married to
Richard Clement; and Bridget died young.

Leland, making note of this large family, remarks,--

"The sole doughtar of the Lorde Harington cawlid (Cecily) was
maried to Thomas the first Marquese of Dorset that favorid the
cummynge of Henry the vii, and he had by hir a 14 children, bothe
men and wimen of excedinge goodly parsonage, of which the first
sune lyvyd not longe, and then had Thomas the name of Lorde
Harington, and aftar was the second Marquese of Dorset."

The Marquis of Dorset with Lord Hastings commanded the rear-guard at
the battle of Tewkesbury, and after the engagement was over, and the
young Prince Edward taken prisoner, who being introduced to Edward's
presence, and interrogated, was brutally struck by him on the mouth
with his gauntlet, and was thereupon dragged out of the king's
presence and murdered by the attendant nobles, the Marquis of Dorset
is said to have been among the savage conclave. Mercy and pity appear
at the time to have fled from the earth.

Naturally all went well with the Marquis during the reign of his
father-in-law, Edward IV., but at that king's death the machinations
of Gloucester, Buckingham, and Hastings, the entrapping Earl Rivers,
and getting possession of the persons of the young king and his
brother, placed him in considerable peril. The Duke of York was under
his custody in London, as Governor of the Tower, but on the approach
of Gloucester to London, with the young king, the Marquis, together
with the Duke of York, the Queen-Mother and her family at once took
sanctuary at Westminster.

Events rapidly succeeded each other. Gloucester got first named
Protector, a stepping-stone merely to his assumption of the Crown; the
Earl Rivers and his companions, and Lord Hastings, were mercilessly
disposed of; the young king and his brother sent to the Tower. Nothing
now remained calculated to give Richard any cause for uneasiness, or
lie in the way of his ambition, but the fact that these two poor boys,
his nephews, were still alive. This difficulty did not exist long, and
they perished under the influence of the same hideous resolve.

But the retribution was surely coming, if delayed for a time.
Buckingham had retired in dudgeon to his castle at Brecknock, and his
astute prisoner Morton, soon became the capturer of his gaoler, at
least in mind, and then bade him adieu. Then followed the series of
intrigues between Buckingham, the Countess of Richmond, and the
Queen-Widow, with Sir Reginald Braye as ambassador, and Dr. Lewis as
go-between, which ended in the unfortunate rising of Buckingham, so
disastrously extinguished by the Severn flood. The Marquis of Dorset
then appears to have quitted sanctuary, and gone into Yorkshire,
presumably to raise forces, with the intention of joining the other
contingents to be gathered in Kent under Sir Richard Guilford, and
from the west under the Courtenays, Cheney, Daubeney, and others, the
place of _rendez-vous_ being at Salisbury. Before however this could
be accomplished, or rather while measures were being taken in
preparation, Buckingham's misfortune took place, and these, the other
chief actors, fled for their lives, and were fortunate to escape and
get across the channel to Brittany, and to the Earl of Richmond.

Richard promptly attainted the fugitives, and, says Rapin,--

"issued a Proclamation against Buckingham, and the Marquis of
Dorset, with others of his adherents, whom he supposed to be in
league with him. But as the Marquis had not appeared in arms, and
so could not be styled a rebel, he made use of another pretence
to involve him in the sentence. He said that having taken oath at
his coronation to punish vice and wickedness, he was obliged to
punish the Marquis of Dorset, notorious for his debaucheries, who
had seduced and ravished several virgins, being guilty of sundry
adulteries, &c. A reward of a thousand marks, or one hundred
marks a year (in land), was promised to anyone who would bring
the Marquis to justice, and sums in proportion for the rest that
were named in the Proclamation."

They got safely across however, and so foiled the tender intentions of
this amiable potentate. Richmond appeared soon after, returning from
his fruitless voyage across the channel, and,

"when he arrived he heard of the Duke of Buckingham's death, and
found the Marquis of Dorset, and other English gentlemen who had
made their escape. They all swore allegiance to him, and he took
his corporal oath on the same day, the 25th of December, that he
would marry the Princess Elizabeth, when he had suppressed the
usurper Richard, and was in the possession of the Crown."

Richard, however, who was kept well informed of all that went on
abroad, had determined if possible to check-mate this scheme of
Richmond, by marrying the lady himself,--

"and to that end did his utmost to ingratiate himself with her
mother the Queen Elizabeth. He sent flattering messages to her in
Sanctuary, promised to advance the Marquis of Dorset and all her
relations, and won upon her so much by his fair speeches, that
forgetting the many affronts he had cast upon the memory of her
husband, on her own honour and the legitimacy of her children,
and even the murder of her dear sons, she complyed with him, and
promised to bring over her son, and all the late king's friends
from the party of Richmond, and went so far as to deliver up her
five daughters into his hand. She also wrote to her son the
Marquis of Dorset, to leave Richmond and hasten to England where
she had procured him a pardon, and provided all sorts of honours
for him."

Then, of course, followed the "illness" of Richard's poor Queen, now
completely in the way of these delicate arrangements, who hearing

"what was reported against her, believed it came from her
husband, and thence concluding that her hour was drawing nigh,
ran to him in a most sorrowful and deplorable condition, and
demanded of him, '_what she had done to deserve death_.' Richard
answered her with fair words and false smiles bidding her '_be of
good cheer for to his knowledge she had no other cause_.' But
whether her grief, as he designed it should, struck so to her
heart, that it broke with the mortal wound, or he hastened her
end, as was generally suspected, by poison, she died in a few
days afterward."

Thus another victim was removed from this ghastly panorama of
treachery and guilt. She was the daughter of the Earl of Warwick, the
'king-maker,' and, when Richard married her, widow of Prince Edward
(heir to Henry VI.), so foully murdered after the battle of
Tewkesbury. The Lady Katharine Bonville was her aunt, and Cicely
Bonville, her daughter, was the poor Queen's cousin.

Richard's new matrimonial project did not go on so smoothly as he
expected, his former Queen "was scarcely cold in her grave, before he
made his addresses to the Princess Elizabeth, who held his pretended
love in abhorrence, and the whole kingdom averse to so unnatural a
marriage,"--she was his own niece. He therefore put off for a time
further prosecuting his suit, and "deferred his courtship until he was
better settled on the throne."

Richmond, who in his turn had full knowledge of all Richard's
proceedings, was quite equal to the occasion, and determined to foil
his rival both of wife and kingdom, which he successfully
accomplished.

In the meantime the Queen-Mother, to oblige Richard, continued

"to write her son the Marquis of Dorset, to leave Richmond. The
Marquis fearing the Earl would not succeed in his enterprise,
gave way to his mother's persuasions, and King Richard's
flattering promises, left the Earl, and stole away from Paris by
night, intending to escape into Flanders. But as soon as the Earl
had notice of his flight, he applied to the French Court to
apprehend him in any part of his dominions, for both himself and
his followers, were afraid of his discovering his designs if he
got to England.

"Having obtained license to seize him, the Earl sent messengers
every way in search of him, and among the rest Humphrey Cheney,
Esq., who overtook him near Champaigne, and by arguments and fair
promises prevailed with him to return.

"By the Marquis's disposition to leave him, the Earl began to
doubt, that if he delayed his expedition to England longer, many
more of his friends might grow cool in their zeal for him. So he
earnestly solicited the French Court for aid, 'desiring so small
a supply of men and money, that Charles could not in honour
refuse him; yet for what he lent him, he would have hostages,
that satisfaction should be made. The Earl made no scruple of
that, so leaving the Lord Marquis of Dorset (whom he still
mistrusted), and Sir John Bourchier, as his pledges at Paris, he
departed for Rouen, where the few men the French king had lent
him, and all the English that followed his future, rendezvous'd.'"

Rather an ignominious _dénouement_, but doubtless Richmond, quite
estimated the quality of his man, and would not allow the Marquis to
play any possible double game by taking him to England with the
expedition. So he remained at Paris, in this kind of semi-imprisonment,
until after the battle of Bosworth, Henry's coronation, and the end of
the Parliament in 1485, when the king was possessed of some means to pay
off his debt to the French king.

This being obtained, he sent across to Paris and redeemed the Marquis
and Bourchier, and invited them over to England. On the 18 Jan.
following, Henry married the Princess Elizabeth, half-sister to the
Marquis. Soon after the king restored him to all his honours, called
him to the Privy Council, and created him a Knight of the Garter,
being the two hundred and fortieth in the succession of that noble
Order.

Henry however still distrusted him, for on his pilgrimage to
Walsingham in 1487,--

"being come to St. Edmunds-bury, he understood that Thomas,
Marquis of Dorset, was hasting toward him, to purge himself of
some accusations that had been made against him. But the King,
though he kept an ear for him, yet was at the time so doubtful,
that he sent the Earl of Oxford to meet him, and forthwith carry
him to the Tower; with a fair message nevertheless, that he
should bear that disgrace with patience, for that the King meant
not his hurt, but only to preserve him from doing hurt, either to
the King's service or to himself, and that the King should always
be able (when he had cleared himself) to make him reparation."

Very wise of Henry, doubtless, and done in kindness to prevent his not
too strong-minded brother-in-law getting into mischief. The Marquis
remained in the Tower until after the coronation of the Queen,--when
Henry, who had locked him up "rather upon suspicion of the time, than
of the man, set him at liberty without examination, or other
circumstance."

He was with the large army taken across the channel to France in 1492,
in the flotilla under the command of Lord Willoughby de Broke, which
was apparently designed, but really never intended, to assist the
Emperor Maximilian. The Marquis also held a command in the royal
forces in 1497, at the defeat of the Cornish insurgents on
Black-Heath.

It is probable also he accompanied Henry into the west, at the
suppression of Perkin Warbeck's attempt in October of the same year.
Respecting this Mr. Davidson writes,--

"The king left Exeter on 3 November, and passed the night at the
College of St. Mary, at Ottery, and on the next day proceeded to
Newenham Abbey. At this place the king remained nearly a week
until the 10th, when he resumed his progress to London. It is
difficult indeed to imagine for what reason the king remained so
long a time at Newenham at this period, unless he was engaged in
making enquiry for such of the men of consideration in the
Counties of Devon and Somerset as had taken part with the rebels,
and in appointing the commissioners for detecting them. Among
those commissioners the name of Sir Amias Paulet appears, whose
residence in Somersetshire was at no great distance from this
place. It may be conjectured also, that the king was entertained
by the lord Marquis of Dorset, at his manor and mansion of Shute,
which is nearly adjoining the Abbey demesnes, for this nobleman
appears to have been on terms of familiar intercourse with his
sovereign. The following items appear in the king's privy purse
expenses;--'_1492, 7 July. To my lord Marquis for a ring of gold,
£100.--1495, March 20.--Loste at the buttes to my lord Marques
£1._'"

Four years after Warbeck's rebellion, on the 10 April, 1501, the
Marquis died; by his will, without date, he "_bequeathed his body to
be buried in his College at Astley, before the image of the Blessed
Trinity, in the midst of his closet, within the same College; and that
his executors should cause to be said for his soul, in every of the
four orders of Friars in London, a hundred masses, and at the time of
his burial, one hundred marks to be distributed in alms to the poor
people_."

On a boss over the organ-gallery in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, are
the arms of the Marquis, quarterly of eight:--1. _Barry of six argent
and azure, in chief three torteaux_ (GREY).--2. _Or, a maunche gules_
(HASTINGS).--3. _Barry of ten argent and azure, an orle of martlets
gules_ (VALENCE). Over these three quarterings _a label of three
points ermine_--4. _Gules, seven mascles, three, three, and one, or_
(QUINCY).--5. _Azure, a cinquefoil ermine_ (ASTLEY).--6. _Argent_, _a
fess and a canton gules_ (WIDVILLe).--7. _Sable, six mullets argent,
pierced gules_ (BONVILLE).--8. _Sable, a fret argent_ (HARINGTON).

On his banner he bore the same quarterings. The "tenan," _an unicorn
ermine_. His standard, _per fess white and murrey_. The badges are
"_bunches of daisies, tufted proper_" (this from Widville). The motto,
"A MA PUISSANCE" (Willement).

Cicely Bonville, Marchioness of Dorset, married secondly Henry
Stafford, second son of Henry Stafford, second Duke of Buckingham (by
his wife Catherine daughter of Richard Widville, Earl Rivers), who,
rising in revolt against Richard III., was beheaded at Salisbury,
1483.

He was created Earl of Wiltshire by Henry VII., in 1509, and
constituted a Knight of the Garter by the same monarch, being the two
hundred and fifty-eighth on the roll of the Order.

The Marchioness of Dorset was his second wife. His first was Muriel,
daughter of Sir Edward Grey,--created Viscount L'Isle, 1483,--brother
to Sir John Grey, father of the Marquis of Dorset, and therefore
cousin to the Marchioness's first husband. The Earl of Wiltshire left
no issue by either of his wives. He died 6 March, 1523, when his title
became extinct.

On a boss in the vaulting of the choir of St. George's Chapel,
Windsor, is his badge, _a Stafford knot argent, differenced by a
crescent sable_, and on a stall-plate below are his arms,
quarterly:--1. _France and England within a bordure argent_
(PLANTAGENET).--2. BOHUN.--3. STAFFORD.--4. BOHUN, EARL OF
NORTHAMPTON; there are no supporters. The crest, _in a ducal coronet,
per pale sable and gules, a demi-swan argent, beaked gules, the wings
endorsed_. Motto, "HUMBLE ET LOYAL" (Willement).

The carved escutcheon of this Earl, quartered as above, with
_crescent_ for difference, and encircled by the Garter, was found
among the ruins of the Cluniac Priory of St. Mary Magdalene at
Barnstaple, and is now preserved in a modern residence built on the
site. The _knot and crescent_ are found on the churches of Axminster,
Ottery St. Mary, and Seaton, and will be further referred to.

We do not hear much more of the Marchioness, but she evidently stood
very high in the Court of Henry VIII., for in September, 1533, at the
christening of the Princess, afterward Queen Elizabeth, daughter of
Queen Anne Boleyn, at Greenwich, Hall relates that "the old
Marchioness of Dorset, widow," was one of the child's god-mothers, and
in the grand procession the Marquis her son, bore the Salt, and she
afterward made the infant-princess "a present of three gilt bowls
pounced with a cover."

By her will, dated 6 March, 1528-9, 19 Henry VIII., she "_bequeathed
her body to be buried in the Chapel of Astley, in the tomb where her
husband the late Lord Marquis lay, and a thousand masses to be said
for her soul. That a goodly tomb should be made in the Chapel of
Astley over the Lord Marquis her husband, and another for herself, and
two priests daily to sing in the said Chapel of Astley by the space of
eighty years, to pray for the soul of the said Lord Marquis and her
own soul._"

The exact date of her death does not appear to have been ascertained,
but probably before, or by 1530, when she would have been about
seventy years old.

With the death of Cicely Bonville--last of her name and race--the main
personal interest of our little narrative ceases, and it is not
intended, in bringing our story to its conclusion, to give a long
detailed account of the two next succeeding generations of the Greys,
which belongs rather to national history.

Thomas Grey, eldest son of Thomas Grey, first Marquis of Dorset, and
Cicely Bonville, was summoned to Parliament in 1509, as Lord Ferrers
of Groby, and in 1511, as the second Marquis of Dorset. He married
first Eleanor, daughter of Oliver, Lord St. John, by whom he had no
issue, and secondly Margaret, daughter of Sir Robert Wotton of Bocton
in Kent, by whom he had Henry, his successor;--John, ancestor of the
Earls of Stamford;--Elizabeth, married to Thomas, Lord Audley of
Walden, K.G., Lord Chancellor to Henry VIII., who sat as High Steward
at the trial of Henry Courtenay, Marquis of Exeter, and who died in
1544;--Catherine, to Henry Fitzalan, eighteenth and last Earl of
Arundel of that family, Lord High Steward to Queen Elizabeth, and
K.G., who died 1579;--and Anne, to Henry Willoughby of Wollaton,
Nottinghamshire.

He appears to have enjoyed the favour and confidence of that
dangerously uncertain despot Henry VIII., and in 1512 was constituted
Commander-in-Chief of the expedition sent into Spain, designed as an
augmentation of the forces of the Emperor Ferdinand in the invasion of
Guienne, and with him were associated the second Lord Willoughby de
Broke and other noblemen. In 1514, he was with Charles Brandon, Duke
of Suffolk, in France at the jousts of St. Denis, and acquired
considerable renown; as afterward at the meeting of Henry and Francis
in 1521 on the Field of the Cloth of Gold. He was one of the lords who
signed the celebrated letter to Pope Clement touching the king's
divorce, and subscribed to the articles of impeachment against
Cardinal Wolsey. Altogether a pliant and observant courtier probably,
who carefully noted, studied, and complied with the errant phases of
his grim master's will, the only safe way of getting on with him, and
keeping his head on his shoulders, but, of course, requiring the aid
of a not too-exacting conscience.

He made his will 1530, "_ordered his body to be buried at Astley, near
his father, and his executors to make and build a Chapel at Astley,
according to the will of his father, with a goodly tomb over his
father and mother, and where he himself resolved to be buried_."
Together with further bequests "_to found an alms house for thirteen
poor men, who were to have twelve pence a week, and a livery of black
cotton yearly at a cost of four shillings, and three honest priests to
pray for his soul, &c._"

Relating to the burial of this nobleman, we append the following,
given as a quotation by Burke,--

"The Collegiate church of Astley, founded by Thomas third Lord
Astley, whose heiress-general married the ancestor of this
Marquis, a most rare and beautiful piece of workmanship, having
fallen down, a new chancel was erected by the parishioners. When
on opening the vault where the body of the Marquis was laid, a
large and long coffin of wood was found, which at the curious
desire of some, being burst open, the body which had lain there
for seventy-eight years, appeared perfect in every respect,
neither perished nor hardened, but the flesh, in colour,
proportion, and softness, alike to any corpse newly interred. The
body was about five feet eight inches in length, the face broad
and the hair yellow. All which seemed to be well preserved from
the strong embalming thereof."

Henry Grey, third and last Marquis of Dorset, was constituted Lord
High-Constable of England for three days at the coronation of Edward
VI., 1547. In 1551 made Justice in Eyre of all the King's Forests, and
in 1552 Warden of the East, West, and Middle Marches toward Scotland,
and 11 October of the same year was created Duke of Suffolk, and
installed Knight of the Garter.

He married first Katharine, daughter of William, Earl of Arundel, but
by her had no issue.

Secondly, he espoused Frances, daughter of Charles Brandon, created
Duke of Suffolk in 1514, and K.G.,--by his third wife the Princess
Mary, second daughter of king Henry VII., widow of king Lewis XII.,
and so Queen-Dowager of France. The issue of this marriage was three
daughters, Jane, Katharine, and Mary.

The Lady Jane Grey married the Lord Guilford Dudley, son of John
Dudley, created Duke of Northumberland in 1551 and K.G.; by his wife
Jane daughter of Sir Edward Guilford, knt. The Duke his father, was
beheaded on Tower Hill 22 Aug., 1553.

The Lady Katharine Grey, married first Henry, Lord Herbert, eldest son
of William, Earl of Pembroke, from whom she was divorced. Secondly she
married Lord Edward Seymour, son of the Protector Somerset, who was
beheaded on Tower Hill, 22 Jan., 1552. Lord Edward Seymour was created
by Queen Elizabeth in 1559, Baron Beauchamp of Hache, and Earl of
Hertford. But for marrying the Lady Katharine without the permission
first obtained of the imperious and unfeeling Queen, they were both
committed to the Tower. He was fined five thousand pounds, and endured
nine years imprisonment. His wife bore him three sons during her
captivity, and she died while still a prisoner in that fortress 26
Jan., 1567. He died at an advanced age in 1621.

The Lady Mary Grey married Martin Keys, Groom-Porter to Queen
Elizabeth.

It is not necessary here to enter into the mournful circumstances of
the deaths,--perhaps the most sad in English history--of the youthful
Lady Jane Grey and her husband Lord Guilford Dudley,--they are fully
known to all who have the slightest acquaintanceship with our national
annals. The event occurred on 12 Feb., 1554.

The same remark will apply to the fate of the Duke of Suffolk, her
father,--his participation in Wyatt's rising, the story of his fleeing
from his pursuers, hiding in a hollow tree in his park at Astley, and
betrayal (under circumstances somewhat similar to Henry Stafford, Duke
of Buckingham), by Underwood, one of his own park-keepers to whom he
had confided the secret of his life,--need only the outline of
relation here, to give semblance of completion to our little history.
He found his death also by the executioner's hand on Tower Hill, 23
Feb., 1554.

[Illustration: EFFIGY OF FRANCES BRANDON, DUCHESS OF SUFFOLK.
WESTMINSTER ABBEY]

The Duchess of Suffolk, his widow, married secondly Adrian Stokes,
Esq. She was buried in St. Edmund's Chapel in Westminster Abbey,
where, on a high-tomb of the same costly material, reclines her effigy
in alabaster, clad in the rich costume of the period, with a crowned
lion at her feet. On one side of the tomb is this inscription,--

HERE LIETH THE LADIE FRANCES, DVCHES OF SOVTHFOLKE,
DOVGHTER TO CHARLES BRANDON, DUKE OF SOVTHFOLKE,
AND MARIE THE FRENCHE QVENE;
FIRST WIFE TO HENRIE, DUKE OF SOVTHFOLKE,
AND AFTER TO ADRIAN STOCK, ESQVIER.

and on the other the following,--

IN CLARISS: DOM: FRANCISCÆ SVFFOLCIÆ QVONDAM DVCISSÆ EPICEDION.

MIL DECVS AVT SPLENDOR, NIL REGIA NOMINA PROSVNT
SPLENDIDA DIVITIIS, NIL JVVAT AMPLA DOMVS;
OMNIA FLVXERVNT, VIRTVTIS SOLA REMANSIT
GLORIA, TARTAREIS NON ABOLENDA ROGIS.

NVPTA DVCI PRIVS EST, VXOR POST ARMIGERI STOKES;
FVNERE NVNC VALEAS CONSOCIATO DEUS.

Below in panels are sculptured the arms of France and England, Brandon
and Stokes with numerous quarterings.

Of this lady says Dean Stanley,--

"She had thrown herself headlong into the Protestant cause. She
had dressed up a cat in a rochet to irritate the bishops; and had
insulted Gardiner, as she passed by the Tower, 'It is well for
the lambs when the wolves are shut up.' Naturally in her own turn
she had to fly after her husband's and her daughter's bloody
death, and lived just long enough to see the betrothal of her
daughter, Catherine Grey to the Earl of Hertford, and to enjoy
the turn of fortune which restored her to the favour of
Elizabeth, and allowed her sepulture beside her royal ancestors.
The service was probably the first celebrated in English in the
Abbey since Elizabeth's accession; and it was followed by the
Communion service, in which the Dean (Dr. Bill) officiated, and
Jewell preached the sermon. Could her Puritanical spirit have
known the site of her tomb, she would have rejoiced in the
thought, that it was the first to displace one of the venerated
altars of the old Catholic saints."

The effigy, a very noble one, clasps a book, presumably intended for
the Bible, in her hands, doubtless another evidence of her
"Puritanical spirit," and which she probably deemed of more importance
than the choicest relics of "saints" preserved in the "venerated
altars" that teemed around.

Adrian Stokes, or Stock, Esq., who married the Duchess of Suffolk, 1
March, 1555, just twelve months after the Duke's death, is said to
have acted as her Master of the Horse. In spite of this disparity of
social position, and also of age (he being about seventeen, and the
Duchess thirty-two years old at the date of their marriage), the union
appears to have been a happy one (she only survived four years), for
at her death in December, 1559, she left him in possession of large
estates in Warwickshire and Leicestershire. In 1571 Stokes was
returned to Parliament for Leicestershire, having under his charge the
Lady Mary Grey, his step-daughter, and about that period, married
secondly, Anne, widow of Sir Nicholas Throgmorton. He died without
issue 30 Nov., 1586. He erected this fine monument to her memory.

His ward the Lady Mary Grey appears to have had no higher ambition in
the selection of a husband, than her mother's second venture, having
married, as previously related, Martin Keys, Groom-Porter to Queen
Elizabeth. It may be, her step-father's social position was against
anything better.

The memorials of Cicely Bonville, Marchioness of Dorset, are fairly
numerous and interesting. "The walls of many churches," says Mr.
Davidson, "in the neighbourhood of this lady's extensive possessions
testify by the arms and devices of her family and connections, that
she employed a part of her immense wealth by assisting in their
erection."

The most considerable of these, is the beautiful Chapel on the north
side of the nave of the Collegiate Church of St. Mary, at Ottery, and
known as the "Dorset aisle," which without doubt she built. It is of
considerable size, and its fan-traceried vaulting very rich; on the
pillars of the arcade are the arms of Bishop Oldham, and his rebus,
_an owl holding a label in its beak inscribed with the last syllable
of the prelate's name_, =ham=,--1504-19; and also of Bishop Vesey his
successor, 1519-51. This shews that its erection occurred within those
dates, after her marriage with the Earl of Wiltshire, but before her
death, which took place about 1530. Studding the moulding under the
parapet outside are the family badges, the Harington _fret_, Stafford
_knot_, _bull's-head_ of Hastings, and Bourchier _knot_, often
repeated, while over the porch-entrance are the denuded remains of
what was evidently the armorial achievement of this lady. There is a
shield surrounded by the Garter, but the bearings are quite
undecipherable, except the traces of a _fret_, the supporters appear
to have been a _lion_ on the dexter side, and on the sinister an
_antelope_. Above the shield is a helmet, and remains of a crest. At
the top and in the base of the panel is the Stafford _knot_, of large
size, and on each side this device is repeated alternately with the
_mullet_ of Bonville.

These arms together with some other sculpture within the porch, appear
to have been designedly mutilated, perhaps after the attainder and
execution of the Duke of Suffolk, by order of Queen Mary, similarly to
the manner the heraldic achievements of the Countess of Salisbury in
her beautiful Chantry in the Priory Church of Christ Church, Hants,
were commanded to be obliterated ("_delete_") by Henry VIII., after
her savage beheading.

The outer armorial panel is supported by columns with a crocketted
canopy, and figures of angels stand on the pillars; at their base are
small shields with the _merchant's mark_ and _initial_ of Goodwyn of
Plymtree, who held that manor of the Hastings family at the time.
There are several of the original bench-ends within the Chapel; on
one is a large _double rose_ and on another _pomegranates_, but they
are of comparatively plain character in carved detail.

At the meeting of Henry VIII. and Maximilian at Terouenne in 1515,
Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham was "attired in purple satin, his
apparel full of _antelopes_, and _swans_ (of Bohun) of fine gold
bullion, and full of spangles." Henry Stafford, Earl of Wiltshire, his
brother, and second husband of Cicely Bonville, bore on his banner the
_swan_ (of Bohun) amid _semée of Stafford knots_, with the motto,
"HUMBLE ET LOYAL."

Knightstone, in Ottery St. Mary, originally the inheritance of the
Bittlesgate family, became the property of the Marchioness of Dorset
in 1494, the remainder having previously been vested in William, Lord
Bonville. On the attainder of her grandson, the Duke of Suffolk, in
1554, it was purchased by Mr. William Sherman, a merchant of Ottery,
who died in 1583, and whose brass effigies are on the pavement of the
south aisle of the church.

In the church of Limington near Ilchester, Somerset, two memorials are
found, but whether they are to be considered mementoes of Cicely
Bonville, or of her son the second Marquis, is not so clear. These
consist of two finely carved bench-ends, in the chancel. They are of
considerable height, having _fleur-de-lys_ shaped finials on the top,
and below occurs, on one the _rose_, and on the other the
_pomegranate_, of Henry VIII. Then follows a large shield,
quarterly,--1 and 4, _six mullets pierced, three, two, one_
(BONVILLE).--2 and 3, _a fret_ (HARINGTON); and under this the
initials W. C. joined by a cordon. Beneath are four _roses_, single
and very thickly double, alternate.

The Bonvilles acquired considerable property in Limington, Somerset,
of the representatives of the De Gyvernay family. The last of them
Henry de Gyvernay died seized of the manor 35 Henry III., leaving a
daughter Joan married to William de Shareshull. The very fine and
well-preserved effigy in the uniquely-groined north transeptal
Chantry, was probably placed to the memory of one of them (although
the armour and appointments are comparatively late), and the other
three earlier effigies on the floor doubtless represent preceding
generations.

The initials W. C. on the bench-end evidently allude to Walter Cocks,
incumbent of the parish, who was inducted in 1535, patron the Marquis
of Dorset. This would be about five years after Cicely Bonville's
death, and in the lifetime of her son, but the marshalling of the arms
seems to allude more directly to his mother.

On escutcheons in the panels of the carved parapet of Axminster church
are the Harington _fret_, and the Stafford _knot, surmounted by a
crescent_; this last badge having allusion to Henry Stafford, Earl of
Wiltshire, her second husband, he being the second son of Henry, Duke
of Buckingham. "As the manor of Uphay in the parish belonged to her,"
remarks Mr. Davidson, "it is not surprising she should have
contributed to the enlargement of the church at Axminster."

Among the shields shewing the descent of Walrond, that formerly had
place on a screen in their Chantry in Seaton church, is one charged
with the Stafford _knot_ and _crescent_, probably included out of
compliment by the squire of Bovey to his noble neighbour of Wiscombe.
It also occurs over the tower door at Hawkchurch, together with the
arms of Daubeney, and the Abbey of Cerne.

But the most interesting of all, is the presumed effigy of Cicely
herself, in the portion remaining of the once beautiful church of
Astley, in Warwickshire. This, for a long time fixed upright in the
wall of the tower, at the west end of the choir, now reclines on a low
tomb. The figure is of alabaster, with pyramidal head-dress, gown
richly embroidered and gilt, and mantle, on which are traces of
crimson colour, the head rests on a cushion originally guarded by
angels. From her girdle are suspended an _aumônière_ on the right side
and a rosary on the left.

There are two other effigies, also in this church, sculptured in
alabaster. One, a knight with hair polled, in full plate armour, and
collar of S.S. His head rests on a helmet, and his feet on a lion. The
other, a lady, has long flowing hair to the shoulders, on her head a
coronet with traces of _fleurs-de-lys_ and pearls, necklace, and
wearing also the rare Yorkist collar of Suns and Roses, from which is
suspended the Lion of March. The remains of angels support the
cushions on which her head rests.

The ladies are much shorter in stature than the knight, and the
probability is they all occupied separate tombs, which stood in the
side chapels originally existing attached to the antient chancel,
before it fell down and was rebuilt at the time the body of the second
Marquis was discovered, at the end of the seventeenth century.

The knight is apparently the earlier effigy of the three, probably
dating about 1480-90, the lady with the coronet next, or about
contemporary, and the lady in the pyramidal head-dress considerably
the latest, as shewn by her costume, which would accord very nearly
with that worn at the era of Cicely Bonville's death.

Sir Edward Grey, uncle to Thomas Grey, first Marquis of Dorset,
married Elizabeth, sister and heir of Thomas Talbot, Viscount L'Isle.
15 Edward IV. he was created Baron, and 1 Richard III. Viscount
L'Isle, died in 1492, and bequeathed his body to be buried in the new
chapel of Our Lady, begun to be built by himself in the College of
Astley, where the body of his late wife Elizabeth lay interred. His
daughter Muriel was the first wife of Henry Stafford, Earl of
Wiltshire, second husband of Cicely Bonville. A guess may be hazarded
that these figures represent Sir Edward Grey and his wife Elizabeth.

[Illustration: BENCH-END. LIMINGTON CHURCH, SOMERSET. Circa 1535.]

Before we close our account of the Bonville and Grey memorials, we
propose to include--from its uniqueness of example--another
remembrance to a presumed second-cousin of the Lady Cicely, that we
discovered among the fine series of bench-ends in a visit to the
little church of Barwick, near Yeovil, on our way back from Limington.
It is one of a pair in the chancel, almost alike, the only difference
being--and here note the evident purpose conveyed in all mediæval
symbolism--that one shield, the earliest in the succession is
suspended by a guige from _a hawthorn tree in blossom_, and the later
one from _a hawthorn tree in fruit_. The arms on the first are,
dexter, quarterly of four:--1 and 4. _On a chief a fleur-de-lys, in
base a mullet pierced_ (ROGERS).--2 and 3. _Fretty, and a chief_
(ECHYNGHAM); impaling,--_In chief quarterly, 1 and 4, six roundels, 2
and 3, three camels; in base, guttée_ (----?). On the second bench-end
are ROGERS and ECHYNGHAM, quarterly as before, impaling COURTENAY and
DE REDVERS quarterly.

[Illustration: BENCH-ENDS. BARWICK CHURCH, SOMERSET.]

"The family of Roger or Rogers," says Mr. Batten, "whose chief seat
was at Bryanstone, Dorset, held Barwick for six generations, extending
to the latter part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth." John Rogers
married Anne, daughter of Thomas de Echyngham, Lord of Echyngham in
Sussex. His grandson Sir John, married presumably--for singularly her
name does not as yet appear to be identified in the pedigree--Elizabeth,
daughter of Sir William Courtenay of Powderham, who died in 1512, by his
wife Cicely, daughter of Sir John Cheney of Pinhoe.

Sir William Courtenay's mother was Margaret Bonville, daughter of Lord
William Bonville, and so great-aunt to Cicely Bonville, and Elizabeth
Rogers of the Barwick panel, was her second cousin.

They were buried at Bryanstone, and on the floor of the chancel of
that church, without the rails, says Hutchins, "on the gravestone are
the brass effigies of a man and a woman kneeling and their hands
elevated. Over are the arms of Rogers and Echyngham quarterly, and
under the woman, Rogers impaling Courtenay, and this inscription:--

=Of your charitie pray for the soules of John Rogers esquyer and
Elizabeth his wyfe which John decessed the day of in the
ye'r md^c and Elizabeth decessed the first day of October
in the ye'r of our Lord m d^c xviii on whose soules J'hu have m'cy=

on other bench-ends at Barwick are the initials W. H. and date 1533,
probably for William Hooper, patron of the benefice at that time. The
date of the Limington bench-ends is almost contemporary."

A round-about digression, you will say, gentle reader, but how
interesting is it, thus in our little pilgrimage, to connect the
relationship of these old sculptures, and make their personal history
live again; verily, if there be any charm belonging to these
researches into the past, herein it is found.

Of the early inheritances of the Bonvilles, Wiscombe, and Shute, on
the attainder of the Duke of Suffolk both fell to the Crown, and Queen
Mary granted them to her Secretary, Sir William Petre.

Wiscombe, toward the end of the sixteenth century, appears to have
been the residence of Robert Drake, Esq., probably under grant from
the descendants of Sir William Petre. He was the son of John Drake,
Esq., of Ashe, Musbury, who died 4 Oct., 1558, by his wife Amy
daughter of Roger Grenville, Esq., of Stow, who died 18 Feb., 1577-8.
He married Elizabeth--daughter of Humphrey Prideaux of Theuborough,
north Devon, who died 8 May, 1550, by his wife Joan daughter of
Richard Fowell, of Fowells-combe, in south Devon,--by whom he left a
large family.

William, the eldest son, was of Wiscombe. He married Philippa, sister
of Sir Thomas Denys, died in 1619, leaving six children, of whom
Thomas the eldest succeeded him at Wiscombe, and died in 1661.

Henry was of Childhay, an old picturesque seat in the parish of
Broad-Winsor, Dorset. This he acquired by his marriage with Amy,
daughter of John Crukerne, of Childhay, and widow of Sir Arthur
Champernowne, of Modbury, Devon. He died in 1640.

Nicholas, a pensioner of James I., died 1640. He married Jane,
daughter of William Tothill, "youngest of thirty-three children," she
died 1622.

Robert, a colonel in the army, together with Humphrey his brother, a
captain, were both killed at Ostend early in 1604.

Bernard, also described as of Wiscombe, married Elizabeth Densloe, and
John, died without issue. Three of the daughters were named Gertrude,
Ursula, and Amy.

The old historian, Westcote, thus refers to the untimely death of
these soldier-brothers,--

"Wiscombe; where liveth a generous family of Drake; of which race
there were lately two brothers, (besides others) Robert and
Henry: (the sons of Robert:) the first, a colonel of much worth
and esteem with the Prince of Orange in the Netherlands; and the
other a captain: both taken away in the flower of their age: a
great grief to their friends and loss to their country."

And Risdon, his contemporary, adds in almost similar words,--

"Here (Wiscombe) now inhabits a generous tribe of the Drakes, of
which, besides other brothers, were Robert and Henry, the sons of
Robert; the first a colonel in the Netherlands, of great esteem
with the Prince of Orange and the States, of his valour, who in
all his actions was said to make use of the spur of courage, and
the reins of judgment; the other a captain, of much hope, both
taken away in the flower of their age, in defence of Ostend, to
the great grief of their friends, and loss of their country."

The monument of Robert Drake, the father of these unfortunate
men,--and who was mercifully prevented by death from experiencing the
great trial of their early decease,--occurs on the north side of the
chancel of Southleigh church. It is of Ionic character with arabesque
ornamentation, and bears the following inscription,--

ARMIGER AURATUS ROBERTUS NOMINE DRACUS
HIC JACET ILLE PIUS PAUPERIBUSQUE BONUS
SEPTE GNATOS FRUGI ET GNATAS QUINQUE VENUSTAS
PARTURIIT CONJUX ELIZABETHA SIBI
OBIIT 1600. MARCH 30.

Thus translated,--"_An ennobled Esquire; Robert Drake by name, lies
here, one who feared God and remembered the poor; his wife Elizabeth
bore him seven thrifty sons and five comely daughters. Died 30 March,
1600._"

Below are five shields:--1. _A wyvern with wings displayed_ (DRAKE),
impaling _A chevron enhanced by a fleur-de-lys and charged with two_
_roundels, between three crescents._--2. GRENVILLE.--3. _A chevron
charged with a mullet, a label of three_ (PRIDEAUX).--4. _Ermine,
three battle-axes in pale_ (Denys).--5. _A fess between three
fleurs-de-lys._

Robert Drake was the brother of Sir Bernard of Ashe, who died of jail
fever in 1586, and of Richard Drake of Esher, who died in 1603.[16]

[16] A portrait of this Richard Drake, painted by Zucchero, was
shewn in London at the Tudor Exhibition of 1890. Described as
"Three-quarter length, life-size, to left, in black armour,
ornamented with gold, white ruffs on neck and wrists, black
jewelled cap with plumes, gold chain of several strings passing
over right shoulder; right hand on hip, left rests on sword hilt,
helmet with plumes on table. Below a shield of arms in the back
ground, the motto "_Tousiours prest a seruir_"; and this
inscription "AN^O DNI 1577. ÆTATIS SUÆ 42." He was one of the
Esquires of Queen Elizabeth, from whom he received the grant of
the Stewardship of the Courts and Leets within the Manor of
Woking, with the Mastership of the Game there. He was also Lord
of the Manor of Esher, and in September 1600, had the honour of
entertaining the Queen at dinner at the Manor House of Esher,
where he resided, and where he had from 1588 to 1593 accommodated
certain notable Spanish prisoners of war, including Don Pedro de
Valdez, and other officers of high rank in the Spanish Armada,
with their suites of attendants. They had been captured by Sir
Francis Drake, and at his instance remitted to the keeping of
Richard Drake at Esher. He died in 1603."

The Wiscombe estate appears to have remained in the possession of the
Petre family, until disposed of by Lord Petre in 1794, to Mr. J. M.
How.

Speaking of Wiscombe, Risdon says,--

"It some time belonged to the priory of Otterton, which was in
the time of K. Hen. 3., by the prior granted unto sir Nicholas
Bonvile, kt., which he made his dwelling, and had here a large
park for deer, not long since disparked by the Lord Petre whose
inheritance it now is."

And Westcote, albeit with no special genealogical accuracy, thus
soliloquises,--

"This place is memorable for being the habitation of Lord
Bonvile, an unfortunate man: (for unwise I dare not nor may not
term him:) yet this may I say by the way, good fortune and
wisdom, folly and ill-fortune or mischance, go masked, and that
very often under one hood; yea, unmasked do so near resemble one
the other, that they are hardly known or rightly distinguished
(by those that look them directly in the face) each from other,
and therefore one bears very often the other's faults, and on the
contrary one steals away the other's praise and commendation;
which is truly avered by Athenæus, when he saith,

'Longissime a sapientia sors dissidet
Sed multa perfecit tamen simillima.'

Seldom the traitor, though much haste he make,
Lame-footed vengeance fails to overtake.

The extreme mischief succeeded; first his only son was taken from
him by untimely death, and his nephew (the third William, Lord
Harrington by his mother's right,) slain at the battle of
Wakefield; and immediately after (that his old age might want no
kind of misery,) while he waited still and long expected better
days, himself was taken (at the battle of St. Alban's,) prisoner,
and having now run out his full and long course of nature, could
not yet come to the grave in peace, but lost his head; leaving
behind him for heir, Cicely, his grandson's daughter; a damsel of
tender years, who brought a large and rich inheritance to Thomas
Grey, Marquis of Dorset, half-brother, by the mother, to king
Edward V."

Wiscombe, although disparked by the Petres, and all the old forest
trees swept away; their successors in its possession have in
comparatively late years planted the hill-sides of the estate with
large breadths of the _conifera_; these have flourished with great
luxuriance, and it would be difficult at present to find a more richly
wooded landscape than it exhibits. The different habits of the trees,
fringed and interspersed with those of the ordinary species, form a
delightful contrast, especially when clothed in all the varying tints
that give such charm to the

AUTUMNAL HOURS.

The quiet Autumn hours,--so cool and calm,
When the bright sun hath stayed his blazing wheels,
And o'er the earth there seems to steal a balm
Of peace full-satisfied, as the heart feels
When after some strong fight, and conquest won
That brings no grief,--we rest and count the spoil,
Rich with the crowned content of something done,
Forgetful of the conflict and the toil.

How blessed comes each change;--with sobering tints
The fading flowers have to rich fruitage turned,
The golden leaves lit with faint sunny glints,
Flame mid the dews like patient martyrs burned,--
The robin pipes his lay,--the bee speeds home,--
And o'er the soul a sweet repose doth come.

Shute also became the property of Secretary Petre, "from whom," says
the Antiquary, "my father had the howse and park, and dwelled theire
duringe his lief, and left it unto mee, and my eldest son John Pole
holdeth it from mee"; it is now held by his descendant, the ninth
baronet.

Once more we are back in Southleigh churchyard in the Wiscombe valley,
from which our footsteps originally set out to thread the mazes of our
imperfectly told but eventful history. We look into the little church
for traces of Bonville, but nothing is visible, reflecting their
memory in this their earliest home. A few years since in clearing the
foundations of an old picturesque cottage, not far from the church,
some fragments of sculpture, of Perpendicular character, were found,
being part of a cornice of rich vine-tracery, together with scrolls,
and winged angels holding shields, canopies of niches, panelled
shafting, the emblem of St. Luke, &c.,--the colours and gilding still
fresh on them. These were apparently portions of the antient reredos,
and from their rich character, were probably relics of the taste and
munificence of the Bonvilles; or of their last descendant "that devout
woman Cecilia, Marchioness of Dorset, Lady de Bonville, and
Haryngton," the patron of numerous benefices in Devon, and other
counties; and generous benefactor toward the ornamentation, repair, or
additions to, the various parish churches in which her extensive
possessions were situate. Pleasing remembrances, left to attest her
memory, and which still stand out in grateful relief, long after the
turbulent scenes of treachery and bloodshed amid which they found
their existence, have passed away; for is it not written,--

"The meek shall inherit the land;
And shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace."

[Illustration: EXTERIOR OF THE DORSET CHAPEL, OTTERY ST. MARY]

One further circumstance, referable only to the realms of conjecture,
but unique in its way, detains us a minute, as we turn to leave the
village graveyard. Just outside the chancel is a high-tomb,
commemorating the burial of _Henry Willoughby, 28 Sept., 1616_.[17] At
its end is the grand escutcheon of Willoughby de Eresby, with
_crescent for difference_. It has not yet been explained who he was,
or how he found sepulchre here. We remember that Anne, younger
daughter of Thomas Grey, second Marquis of Dorset, and so
grand-daughter to Cicely Bonville, married Henry Willoughby, of
Wollaton, Nottinghamshire, which would not be far from the home of the
Willoughbies de Eresby in Lincolnshire. Is this the memorial of her
husband? The date would accord with the presumption.

[17] See page 35.

Here we conclude this desultory outline of the history of Bonville,
and as our feet make homeward, many thoughts haunt us over the
marvels--for they are nothing less--that fill its phases of human
relation. In the middle of its recital, which concluded with the
untimely death of Lord Bonville, we said it was a relief to turn aside
from the atrocities mingled with the strife of the Roses. In its
continuation, for a while, under the more settled rule of Tudor, there
were comparatively fewer horrors to chronicle, but the union of the
royal houses, emblemed by the rival flowers, was cemented with blood,
its ghastly trail followed into the spirit of the new dynasty, and
gathering strength as the three generations of Grey passed, culminated
at length in a tragedy for size and importance unsurpassed in the
annals of our national history. Its last representative, although a
subject only, had wedded the grand-daughter of one, and cousin of
another of the reigning Kings, and who had herself also been a Queen
in her own right. Here the topmost pinnacle of alliance with the
highest worldly station had been reached, but only to experience the
fate of that often-witnessed terrific downfall, which follows the
promptings engendered by the unsatisfied ambition of attaining to such
dangerous altitude. Within three short years, three headless dukes--of
foremost station in their native land, and allied to each other by
ties of relationship--passed from the scaffold on Tower Hill to
obscure and unmarked graves in the little Chapel of that fortress; and
with them went also, after experiencing the same terrible ordeal,
following her youthful husband, a young and guileless victim, almost
the sole representative of the new stock, into which the last tender
branch of the extinct house of Bonville had been engraffed.

Enough, sayest thou, friend of mine, of this harrowing
relation;--quite so,--our story is ended. Life was indeed intended for
happier results than these, and how much better the simple delights,
enjoyments and pleasures of unenvied station, that in their
possession are ever

"Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne;"

and unsmote by the glamour of the basilisk Ambition, whose fascination
lives on the ever unsatisfied desire for fame or station, until often,
when too late and past recall, the illusion vanishes as the victim
disappears over the verge of the unseen, treacherous precipice of
irretrievable ruin.

The shadows grow deeper between the hedgerows as we saunter homeward,
a dewy mist is settling down the valley, and a cheery glint salutes us
here and there from the cottage windows as we pass along. Listen! What
melody do we hear, with greeting so soft and soothing? Aye, artless as
it is, that, which in this world, for sweetness knows no rival, even

A MOTHER'S SONG.

'Tis eve, and dusky twilight falls;
Here is a home that men call poor,
A glimmer lights its humble walls,
A strain comes through its half-closed door;
Sweet as from Sappho's soul might spring,
Song, none but mother's voice may sing.

Look through the casement dim and old,
A shadow fronts the ingle's glow,
Whose arms a tiny form enfold,
Sits gently rocking to and fro;
With cadence measured to its swing,
Comes song that mothers only sing.

Her tears fall on the baby's brow,
Too full her heart with very joy,
Hark! with her voice is blending now,
The sleepy murmurs of her boy;
Faint--fainter--hushed and slumbering,
By song but mother's lips may sing.

Why bends, O friend, thy brow with thought,
At glimpse of Paradise so fair?
Doth memory fill thy heart unsought
With echo, whose 'divine despair'
Brings sadness past imagining?
Song that thy mother used to sing!

O soft sweet voice, O simple strain,
Where love ne'er bids the measure cease,
Until the charm of its refrain,
Lulls the complaining soul to peace;
Come back again on angel wing,
O song my mother used to sing!

It may not be, earth hath one heaven,
Our childhood's days, a mother's care,
When life is o'er, will other given
Restore to us these joys so rare?
Yes, and its pure delight shall bring,
The songs our mothers used to sing.

[Illustration: MONUMENT TO HENRY STAFFORD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, K
G. BRITFORD CHURCH, NEAR SALISBURY.]

UNDER THE HOOF OF THE WHITE BOAR.

The fair, busy, if not large city of New Sarum or Salisbury, has since
its foundation, occupied an important place in our national history,
resulting from the heritage of its natural position, which may be
described as forming the Gate or Key to the peninsula of the West.
Besides this, it is the inheritor of, and is associated with, some of
the oldest traditions of the land before the pen of history has left
record, the venerable fame of previous ages having descended and added
distinguished interest to its surroundings, while the marvellous
circle of Stonehenge finds its place close by, as also its own antient
progenitor, the equally remarkable hill-fortressed city of Old
Sarum,--circumstances that attest the importance in which the locality
was regarded, wherein its city of to-day is situate.

Succeeding events have also added their witness to this distinction.
The foundation and building of its beautiful and unique Cathedral,
begun, completed, and finished in one harmonious design, without let
or hindrance, and the afterward crowning it with the magnificent
spire, the finest in the kingdom, and with very doubtful rivalry
elsewhere,--its notable succession of bishops,--and the number of
distinguished personages, who through the following centuries down to
these present days, have held high rule as statesmen and
administrators in our land, who have sought the privilege of having
its name as an affix to their titles of honour, Longspée, Montacute,
Nevill, and Cecil,--have interwoven and sustained the claim of its
reputation into almost every period of our national annals.

Yet, notwithstanding the importance of its position, it is singular,
no very important or striking incident connected with the national
government, such as has made famous many other localities, has
occurred within, or immediately near it. The reasons for this may not
be far to seek. The sea coasts on either side of it offered facilities
for martial transit or commercial enterprise, which Salisbury could
not possess, and so the tide of action, as a rule, passed at a
distance, but its great advantages as a central position for the
purposes of _rendez-vous_, warlike or otherwise, have always been used
and made available.

Lying on the high road between London and the Land's End, it has
naturally received many royal visits, from that of the young king
Henry III., at the consecration of the cathedral in 1225, downward, at
divers times and on various errands, civil, military, or with darker
and sanguinary intent to take vengeance on their enemies; and it is
the result of one of these vindictive errands that brought a king to
Salisbury, and the circumstances preceding and following it, that form
the basis of our homely narrative.

Of the very antient and illustrious family of Stafford, whose origin
is contemporary with the Conqueror, for the purposes of our little
history the first we need mention is Thomas Stafford, fourth Baron and
third Earl of that name, who lived in the reign of Richard II. He
allied himself with a lady of direct royal descent, Anne Plantagenet,
eldest daughter of Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester, sixth son
of king Edward III., by his wife Eleanor, eldest daughter and coheir
of Humphrey de Bohun, the last Earl of Hereford, Essex, and
Northampton, who died in 1372.

Mary, the other daughter and coheir of Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of
Essex, &c., as aforesaid, was married to Henry Plantagenet, Earl of
Derby, eldest son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, fourth son of
king Edward III., who was successively created Earl and Duke of
Hereford, and ultimately ascended the throne as Henry IV., surnamed
'of Bolingbroke.'

In 1397 Richard II. caused his uncle Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of
Gloucester, to be kidnapped by a company of armed men near Stratford,
and conveyed to Calais, where he is said to have been privately
strangled. To cover this crime it was given out the Duke had died from
natural causes, and that before his death he had confessed himself
guilty of treason toward the king, upon which all his estates were
confiscated by the Parliament. Richard gave them to his cousin Henry,
Earl of Derby (afterward Henry IV.), who had married the younger
daughter Mary, and he thus became possessed of the whole of the
Hereford estate, and of course most unjustly to the prejudice of the
heirs of Thomas of Woodstock, whose daughter Anne was married to
Thomas, Earl of Stafford.

These genealogical particulars, although somewhat dry, intricate, and
well known, are very necessary, nevertheless, to keep in mind, as they
are said to have exercised material influence on the ultimate issue of
our story.

Thomas, Earl of Stafford, husband of Anne Plantagenet, died young, and
without issue. He was succeeded in the Earldom by his brother William,
who also died when a youth.

Both these brothers were succeeded by their next brother, Edmund
Stafford, sixth Baron, and fifth Earl of Stafford. In the 22 Richard
II., 1399, he had the king's special license to marry his eldest
brother's widow, Anne Plantagenet, "which marriage of the said Thomas
and Anne had never been consummated owing to the tender years of the
Earl." He was also K.G., and was killed at the battle of Shrewsbury,
fighting on the side of king Henry IV., in 1403.

He was succeeded by his son Humphrey, who was created Duke of
Buckingham 14 Sept., 1444, with precedence before all dukes
whatsoever, next to those of the blood royal. In 1450 Henry VI. made
him Constable of Dover Castle, and Warden of the Cinque Ports, he was
also a Knight of the Garter. He married the Lady Anne Nevill, daughter
of Ralph, first Earl of Westmoreland, K.G., who died in 1425. He was
faithfully attached to the Lancastrian interest, and was killed at the
battle of Northampton on the 27 July, 1460, fighting under the banner
of Henry VI. and the Red Rose.

Humphrey Stafford, his eldest son, Earl of Stafford, married Margaret,
daughter of Edmund Beaufort, first Duke of Somerset, grandson of John
of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, by Katharine Swynford, and who was killed
on the side of the Red Rose at the first battle of St. Albans on 23
May, 1455. The Earl Humphrey was also slain in the same battle with
his father-in-law.

He thus died before his father, leaving a son Henry, who succeeded his
grandfather, the first Duke, who died in 1460, and this Henry, who was
the second Duke of Buckingham, is the subject of our history.

It would be difficult to find among the antient nobility of England a
man with a more illustrious ancestry, derived by two direct sources
from the blood royal, and allied with Bohun, Nevill, Beauchamp, and
Audley, all families of the first consequence and influence. It would
be equally difficult to find a family more unfortunate.

The restless, troubled life of Henry Stafford, second Duke of
Buckingham, and its importance, as bearing on one of the most noted
epochs of English history, is a subject much too large to receive
anything beyond a very imperfect outline here; and it has been
necessarily more or less comprehensively treated, by all our national
historians. The province of this little narrative will be rather in a
local sense to gather together, and describe from such records and
observation as may be available, the circumstances of the defection,
betrayal, arrest, trial, death, probable burial-place, and presumed
monument set up to the memory of this unfortunate man, the major
portion of which appears to have occurred almost within reach of the
shadow of the glorious spire before us.

His wardship was vested in the king Edward IV., and his tuition
entrusted to the king's sister Anne, wife of the unfortunate Henry
Holland, second Duke of Exeter, and five hundred marks per annum, out
of the revenue of the lordships of Brecknock, Newport, &c., in Wales,
set aside for his maintenance. Humphrey, his father, as we have seen,
was slain at St. Albans in 1455, and at the death of his grandfather
Humphrey, the first Duke, who fell at the battle of Northampton in
1460, he succeeded to the title. But very little is heard further of
him during the reign of Edward IV.

At the death of Edward, however, he appears to have at once come to
the front, as one of the most important personages in the kingdom. The
widowed Queen-Mother Elizabeth Widville, during the king's lifetime,
naturally had done the best that lay in her power for the advancement
of her family; and it seems at the same time, not very discreetly,
treated with contempt and indifference the older nobility of the
kingdom. This treatment was naturally resented on their part, and
Edward appears to have been fully cognizant of this antagonism, and
was anxious, for the weal of his son, to dispel it. So, shortly before
his death, he did his best to effect a reconciliation between them;
this to a considerable extent was done, and the king believed it was
sincere.

Immediately after Edward's decease, however, the Queen-Mother seems to
have revived and accentuated this undesirable feeling, and also sought
to exercise a controlling influence over the government of the kingdom
in her son the young king's name. To this end she contrived, if not
exactly to expel, at least to keep from the Court and presence of her
son, among others, three of the most important of the antient
nobility, who had been highly in favour with her late husband, and who
were fully aware of her schemes and antipathy to them, while at the
same time they were also thoroughly loyal to the interests of her son,
or presumably so. These were Henry, Duke of Buckingham, William, Lord
Hastings, and Thomas, Lord Stanley. This antipathy was the more
strange also as regarded two of them, as they were almost members of
the Queen-Mother's family, for Buckingham was her brother-in-law,
being married to her sister Katharine; and Hastings was father-in-law
to her son's--Thomas Grey, the Marquis of Dorset's--wife, he having
married the widow of the last Bonville, the mother of Cicely. But
family relationships, however near, do not appear to have carried much
weight in those days, where restless, thirsty ambition intervened.

At the juncture of Edward's death, the Duke of Gloucester was at York
on the king's business, and young Edward V. was at Ludlow Castle under
the guardianship of his uncle, the Earl Rivers. The king's younger
brother, the Duke of York, was with the Queen-Mother in the Tower,
that fortress being under the command of the Marquis of Dorset, her
son. She had already got into hot water with the Council, and
affronted both Hastings and Buckingham, and she had sent a despatch to
her brother in Wales, to bring the young King to London with a large
armed escort of at least two thousand men. Gloucester, it is related,
being aware of this state of affairs, and the disaffection of Hastings
and Buckingham, sent privately for them to meet him and discuss the
situation; but Dugdale says, that Buckingham, on hearing of the death
of Edward,--

"speedily despatched one Pershall, his trusty servant in all
haste unto Richard Duke of Gloucester, then in the north, and
that Pershall being privately admitted to speak to him, in the
dead of night, told him that his master had sent him to offer him
his service, and that he would wait on him with a thousand good
fellows if need were,"

at any rate the three met, and were all well in agreement as to their
hatred of the Queen-Mother, and desired to remove both herself and
family from the position of influence they had acquired. Gloucester
made due note of this, carefully veiling his own ultimate purpose. But
the advance of the young King and an armed host under the command of
Rivers, was to be baulked if possible, and for this purpose Hastings
was despatched to London, to convey the assurance of his and his
companion's loyalty, and to represent that it would be most impolitic
to have a large military escort accompanying the young King. The
Queen-Mother believing this counsel to be all genuine and well-meant,
desired her brother to bring the King with only a comparatively small
guard, or such a retinue as befitted him.

Gloucester and Buckingham, with a force of nine hundred armed men,
arrived at Northampton from York a few days before the King and his
uncle Rivers reached that town. They went out to meet the King, and
saluted him very respectfully, at the same time saying that as
Northampton was very full of strangers just then, it would be
advisable for the King's comfort, if himself and his retinue proceeded
to Stony-Stratford, twelve miles further on, and nearer London. This
being agreed on, it was proposed to the Earl, "in a free and easy
manner," that he should return with Gloucester and pass the night at
Northampton, which "kind invitation" Rivers unsuspectingly complied
with.

The evening appears to have been spent in conviviality and mutual
protestations of good faith toward each other, and subsequently the
Earl retired to his lodgings at an Inn. Guards were at once placed
over him, and every precaution taken to prevent any communication
between Northampton and Stony-Stratford. The victim was securely
caged.

At day-break the next morning Gloucester and Buckingham were on
horseback, ready to depart. Rivers was still in bed, and being wakened
by his servant was told of this circumstance, but that no one was
suffered to go out of the Inn. The Earl thereon hastily dressed
himself, and desired to know the reason of this proceeding; and
meeting with the Dukes, asked why they kept the keys of the Inn, and
thus sought to make him a prisoner there. He found them in a very
different frame of mind from the previous evening, they immediately
began to upbraid and quarrel with him, told him he sought to alienate
the King's affections from his uncle Gloucester, and others the King's
faithful subjects, and that they should take care to prevent the like
practices in future. The Earl returned a calm answer to this
accusation, but they refused to hear him, gave him into custody, and
mounting their horses, rode off to Stony-Stratford.

Here they found the young King ready to pursue his journey, and after
paying him their respects, remounted to escort him. But before they
had left the town, they quarrelled with Lord Richard Grey, charging
him and the Marquis of Dorset (who was in London) with allegations
similar to those they had preferred against Earl Rivers. The poor
young King was greatly distressed at this position of affairs, and
said he could say nothing as to the Marquis of Dorset, but as for the
others he could answer for their conduct, as they had been continually
with him. To this Buckingham replied, that they had carefully
concealed their designs from him, which however were not the less
certain. Lord Grey, with Sir Thomas Vaughan and Sir Richard Hawke, who
were in attendance on the King, were at once arrested, and together
with Earl Rivers, either on the same day or the next, were sent
northward in custody of several persons, and finally incarcerated in
Pontefract Castle, whose Governor was Sir Richard Ratcliffe, a
partisan of Gloucester. The young King himself was re-conducted back
to Northampton, practically as much a prisoner as his uncle and
half-brother, and reserved ultimately for a similarly cruel fate. Thus
the first act of this atrocious tragedy was completed.

The news of this _coup-de-main_ having reached the Queen-Mother, she
was greatly terrified, for she saw at a glance its full significance,
and she immediately with her son the Duke of York, her other children,
the Marquis of Dorset, and the rest of her family, took sanctuary at
Westminster, as their only available refuge.

Lord Hastings, who was in London, had intelligence of these
proceedings the same night. Although he excessively disliked the
Queen-Mother, yet he was thoroughly loyal to the young King and the
other children of Edward IV., his former friend and patron, and
although he was privy to the plot for the seizing of Rivers and Grey,
yet he appears to have had no further wish than to prevent the
Queen-Mother directing the government. On receipt of the news, he at
once proceeded to acquaint Rotherham, the Archbishop, and quieted his
alarm by assuring him the King was in no danger, and all these steps
were devised for the welfare of the kingdom. Rotherham repaired
immediately to the Queen-Mother, whom he found at Westminster, "in a
disconsolate condition, sitting upon the ground, lamenting her own and
her children's fate, while her domestics were busy in carrying such
goods as were necessary into the Sanctuary." The Archbishop conveyed
Hastings' intelligence to her as to the safety of the King, and did
his best to comfort her, and gave her every possible assurance of his
own fidelity, telling her, among other things, that, even supposing it
possible they might put the King to death, he would at once crown the
Duke of York. But the Queen-Mother was slow to believe in anything but
of the worst import. The good prelate, in company with many others,
had failed to gauge the ultimate depths of Gloucester's design.

In the meanwhile the citizens of London, like the Queen-Mother,
greatly alarmed at this sudden turn of affairs, were beginning to arm
themselves, in view of possible contingencies. Hastings, who had great
influence with the citizens, contrived to keep them quiet, while
plausible stories as to the hostile designs of the imprisoned Rivers
and his companions were circulated, and all suspicion and distrust
being allayed, immediately thereupon the King, attended by the Dukes
of Gloucester and Buckingham, arrived; and escorted by a large
concourse of nobility and others, Gloucester riding before him
bare-headed, made a triumphal entry into the city, and was lodged in
the Bishop's palace. These rejoicings over, Gloucester called a
Council together of his own friends and partisans, and thereat he was
constituted "Protector of the King, and kingdom." So the second act of
the tragedy reached its conclusion.

Gloucester's first step was to take the Great Seal from Archbishop
Rotherham, and give it to John Russell, Bishop of Lincoln, the Duke of
Buckingham and Lord Hastings were confirmed in their places, and the
other positions of influence filled up by his own partisans. The next
step was to get possession of the Duke of York, the young King's
brother, then in Sanctuary with his mother.

Gloucester proposed this course at a Council, and suggested that a
proper representative should be sent to the Queen-Mother, requesting
her to deliver up the young prince to their custody, and suggesting
that Cardinal Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury (who was related
both to him and Buckingham), was the fittest person to be entrusted
with the errand, and added, that if the Queen-Mother refused to listen
to the message of the Cardinal, he saw no reason why they should not
obtain him by force, if necessary. The Cardinal readily undertook the
negociation, but he would not hear for an instant of daring to violate
the Sanctuary,--"such an attempt would certainly draw down the just
vengeance of God on the whole kingdom." To this objection Buckingham
vehemently replied, backing up the views of Gloucester, that if the
Queen-Mother refused to give up her son freely, they should take him
by force out of Sanctuary; and this course was agreed to at the
Council, notwithstanding the remonstrances of the ecclesiastics
present.

The Cardinal-Archbishop waited on the Queen-Mother and did his best by
entreaties and assurances to induce her to part with her son, but she
could not be persuaded to place her child in the hands of the man she
so greatly feared, and believed to be her mortal enemy. At last
Bourchier told her the dread truth, that if she did not deliver him up
otherwise, they would take him from her by force, notwithstanding the
privilege of Sanctuary, but that he could not believe they would have
made him the instrument of deceiving her, and bringing harm to her
son. Alas, the good Cardinal was thoroughly deceived with the rest,
and so, finding he could not persuade her, prepared to depart. The
distracted mother thereon chose what appeared the least evil of the
two, "caught the boy in her arms, tenderly took leave of him, and in a
flood of tears delivered him to the Cardinal."

Bourchier brought the young prince to Gloucester, who received his
nephew with much feigned affection,--a few days after both the young
King and his brother were lodged in the Tower, never to come out again
alive.

Up to this time it is probable that no one, not excepting Buckingham,
really had cognizance of the ultimate designs of Gloucester, and he
himself had been veiling his purpose as carefully as possible, until
he saw his schemes so far matured, that success appeared in sight. And
although he was gradually getting the sole power and mastery of the
King and government in his own hands, still there were many obstacles
to be got out of the way, and many influential men to be won over, or
otherwise disposed of, before the sceptre was within his grasp.

At this juncture Buckingham comes to the front, as the undoubted agent
and zealous coadjutor of Gloucester, in aiding his ultimate design,
and also by apparently acquiescing in any measures, however desperate,
that might lead to its fulfilment. Gloucester doubtless thoroughly
estimated the unenviable character of his ally. He knew of
Buckingham's hatred of the Queen-Mother and her family, and that in
consequence, his allegiance to the young King was of very doubtful
character, if secretly he did not equally dislike him, though he dared
not shew it, and Gloucester was further aware of Buckingham's
grievance at never having been possessed of that which by heirship he
was entitled to, a moiety of the great Bohun estates, and which had
been hitherto vested in the Crown, unjustly as he considered, and
Gloucester, it is said, duly whetted his companion's hopes by the
promise of the restoration of this, when seated on the throne.

Prompt action was now decided on. Widville and Grey, with their
associates, were to be dispatched, and orders were sent down to
Pontefract to Sir Richard Ratcliffe for that purpose, and it was
further determined that Lord Hastings was to be won over if possible,
if not the same fate was to be reserved for him.

Then came Gloucester's tampering with Sir Edmund Shaw, the Lord Mayor,
and his brother, the truculent preacher Dr. John Shaw, and the
pretences of trying to assume the illegitimacy of Edward's children,
and failing that, of Edward IV. himself. Then the simulation of
feigning to prepare for the young King's coronation, and the two
Councils, one in Gloucester's interests, intriguing for its delay at
Baynard's Castle, and the other arranging it for the King in the
Tower. Stanley, in the King's Council, was assured there was mischief
in Gloucester's designs, but Hastings was slow to believe such
treachery, until the truth was apparent to him, when the wretched
emissary, Catesby, left him for the second and last time, a betrayed
and doomed man. Immediately on this followed the frightful incident in
the Tower, and the murder of Hastings,--for it was nothing less,--a
scene described at length elsewhere.[18] On the same day the victims at
Pontefract were disposed of.

Concerning the barbarous execution of Earl Rivers and his unfortunate
companions we get the following graphic picture from More,--

"They had not so much as the formality of a trial, but were
brought to the scaffold on the day appointed, and being branded
in general by the name of traitors, were beheaded. The Lord
Rivers would fain have declared his innocence to the people, but
Ratcliffe would not suffer him, lest his words should lay open
the Protector's cruelty too much, and so he died in silence. Sir
Thomas Vaughan would not endure his mouth to be stopped, but as
he was going to the block said aloud, 'a mischief take them that
expounded the prophecy, which foretold that G should destroy King
Edward's children, for George, Duke of Clarence, who for that
suspicion is now dead; for there still remained Richard G (i.e.
Duke of Gloucester) who now I see is he that shall, and will,
accomplish the prophecy, and destroy King Edward's children, and
all his allies and friends, as appeareth to us this day; against
whom I appeal to the high tribunal of God, for this wrongful
murder and our real innocency.' Sir Richard Ratcliffe heard this
with regret, and putting it off, said to him in scorn, 'You have
made a goodly appeal, lay down your head.' 'Yea,' saith Sir
Thomas, 'but I die in the right, take heed that you die not in
the wrong;'--and having said this he was beheaded. He, with the
other three, were buried naked in the Monastery of St. John the
Evangelist, at Pontefract."

[18] See page 57.

The citizens of London had next to be reckoned with, on whom "fear and
consternation" would be sure to fall, on hearing of the sudden and
barbarous death of Hastings, who was a great favourite with them, and
had much influence in the city. But all things had been prepared,--the
Lord Mayor and Aldermen were immediately summoned to the Tower, and
Gloucester and Buckingham, who had arrayed themselves in two old rusty
suits of armour, received them, and in the name of the King told them
that the beheaded man had conspired to seize the King, and kill
Gloucester and Buckingham, in order that he may have governed the
kingdom as he pleased! That they only discovered it the same morning,
and the Council deemed it necessary to execute him immediately, and
fearing there were many others in the plot they had hastily harnessed
themselves at once for the King's defence. A proclamation, already
"cut and dried" before Hastings' death, containing similar statements,
was issued in the city within two hours of that event, but it had
little effect, for the people jested and said, "_it was writ by the
spirit of prophecy_." True enough, doubtless; the civic deputation
withdrew from the presence of Gloucester, quite assured of his
dissimulation and the untruth of what he had stated, but told him his
orders for the quietness of the city should be obeyed, being too much
afraid to give other answer.

The Archbishop of York, Morton, Bishop of Ely, and Lord Stanley had
been sent to the Tower, poor Jane Shore publicly disgraced, and so all
was well cleared away for Gloucester's ultimate measures. The two
dukes were constantly in close conclave, and the next step was to win
the citizens of London over to their designs. This was not so easy a
matter, but two influences were to be tried, the first by imposing on
their credulity and getting a feigned assent, and the second, if
necessary, to oblige them into compliance by fear.

The Lord Mayor, Sir Edward Shaw, was already won over, and his
brother, the Doctor, was to begin the final proceedings. These
commenced by Dr. Shaw preaching the famous--or rather infamous--sermon,
on a Sunday morning, at Paul's cross; taking for his text a phrase from
the fourth chapter of the _Wisdom of Solomon_, "Bastard slips shall take
no deep root," a tissue of malign slander on the late king, his
children, and their mother,--and gross adulation of Gloucester. During a
special laudatory parenthesis it was intended Gloucester should, as by
chance, shew himself among the people, but he happened to overstay the
time, the Doctor having concluded it, and when he did appear immediately
after, the preacher re-commenced the passage, and it was hoped he would
have heard a call for him as the future king, but there was a complete
silence, the audience were disgusted both with the preacher and the
subject. This was an ominous and disquieting omen to Gloucester.

The Duke of Buckingham now appears upon the scene as the prime factor
in the events that followed. Dr. Shaw's eloquence not prevailing upon
the citizens, he determined to see what effect his own reasoning would
have on them. For this purpose the Lord Mayor had orders to assemble
the Aldermen and all the principal citizens in the Guildhall on the
Tuesday following, being the 17 June, 1483. Buckingham addressed the
assemblage, and the subject of his harangue was simply an echo of the
slander and adulation of what the people had heard at Paul's cross,
coupled with the suggestion that Gloucester should be requested to
assume the crown and government,--too weighty for a child.

The Duke finished his oration, and a silence was observed by the
audience, as at the conclusion of Shaw's sermon; "everyone stood
speechless." Then the Duke, surprised at the want of response, asked
the Lord Mayor the reason; the answer was, the people did not well
understand him. The Duke then "repeated his speech, with a little
variation, and with such grace and eloquence, never was so ill a
subject handled with so much oratory." Still the people remained
silent.

Perplexed, the Duke again turned to the Lord Mayor, who then told him
the citizens were not accustomed to hear anyone but the Recorder, and
that he had better put the matter before them. Thereon Buckingham
requested the Recorder, Sir Thomas Fitz-William, to address them, and
he "most reluctantly managed his speech so well, as to be understood
to speak the Duke's sense, and not his own." But the assembly stood
silent as before,--

"They spake not a word;
But, like dumb statuas, or breathing stones,
Stared on each other, and looked deadly pale."

Then the Duke, seeing a crisis was at hand, determined to test the
citizens for a definite reply, and after once more "muttering" to the
Lord Mayor, turned to the assemblage and said,--

"Good friends, we came to acquaint you with a thing we needed not
have done, had it not been for the affection we bear you. The
Lords and Commons could have determined the matter without you,
but would gladly have you join with us, which is for your honour
and profit, though you do not see it, or consider it. We require
you therefore to give your answer one way or another; whether you
are willing as the Lords are, to have the most excellent prince
the Lord Protector to be your King, or not?"[19]

[19] Sir Thomas More.

Whatever may have been surmised as to the ultimate object to which
preceding events were tending, this manifesto and declaration of
Buckingham tore off the final shreds of the mask, that had been so
thinly veiling it. At the conclusion of the question, a murmur ran
through the assemblage, and just at this juncture, a number of the
Protector's and Duke's servants, some city apprentices, and a rabble
that had crowded into the Hall, cried out, "_King Richard! King
Richard!_" and threw up their hats in token of joy.

Glad to seize hold of this mockery of a response, although perfectly
aware of its origin, Buckingham immediately treated it as a genuine
and spontaneous demonstration in favour of Gloucester, and said,--

"'Tis a goodly and joyful cry, to hear every man with one voice
agree to it, and nobody say, no; since therefore, we see you all
as one man inclined to have this noble prince to be your King,
we shall report the matter effectually to him, that we doubt not
it will be much to your advantage. We require you to attend us
to-morrow with our joint petition to his Grace; as has been
already agreed on between us."

"Some followers of mine own,
At lower end of the hall, hurled up their caps
And some ten voices cried, _God save King Richard!_
(And thus I took the vantage of those few.)"

The Duke and his companions then left the Hall, and the citizens
dispersed "the most part with aching hearts, though they were forced
to hide their sorrows, as much as possible for fear of giving offence,
which had been dangerous."

Baynard's Castle in Thames Street, "where the Lord Protector lay," was
destined to be the scene of the last act of this miserable drama.
Hither the following morning being Wednesday, the 17 April,
Buckingham, several lords and gentlemen, the Lord Mayor, and most of
the Aldermen and Common-Council, repaired to have audience of
Gloucester.

The consummate hypocrisy of Gloucester's character, and his finished
acting, were never more fully displayed than at this interview. At
first he "made some difficulty of coming forth," and when he appeared,
Buckingham, whose guile on the occasion was only short of
Gloucester's, introduced the deputation, and after "very submissively
begging pardon for himself and company, and liberty to propose to him
what they had to offer," and receiving "his Grace's" reply that "he
believed none of them meant him any harm," at once "set forth very
elegantly and pathetically,"--

"the grievances of the people, and prayed him to redress them by
assuming the sovereign authority, which of right belonged to him,
and which the whole kingdom with unusual unanimity, desired he
would take to himself for the benefit of the Commonwealth, as
much as for his Grace's honour."

Gloucester simulated to be "mightily surpriz'd," and said, "although
he knew the things, he (Buckingham) alleged, to be true, yet he loved
King Edward and his children above any crown whatsoever, and therefore
could not grant them their request." Thereon Buckingham "murmured" and
"obtained pardon" to speak a second time. He then said, "they were
gone too far to go back," and that if he refused "to take the Crown
upon him, which they humbly beseeched him to do,"--and gave them "a
resolute answer" to the contrary, then "they would look out for some
worthy person who would accept their proposal."

The time was now come to throw off the mask, for the climax of
hypocrisy had been reached, and Gloucester, never slow to act when the
decisive moment arrived, immediately put his foot on the neck of the
coveted opportunity. There was no hesitation in the declaration he
then made; he "perceived" that the "whole realm was bent upon it not
to have King Edward's children to govern them, of which he was
sorry,"--and that "he knew the Crown could belong to no man so justly
as ourself," a claim now confirmed and joined also by "your election,
the Nobles and Commons of this Realm," the which of all titles
"possible," he took to be the most effectual, he did therefore
"content and agree favourably to receive your petition and
request,"--and would forthwith from that day forward, "take upon us
the royal estate, to rule, govern, and defend."

"Stand all apart,--Cousin of Buckingham,
Give me thy hand;--thus high by thy advice
And thy assistance is King Richard seated."

So the farce ended, and the deputation retired. Buckingham had placed
the crown on the grisly brow of the White Boar, who, in return was
destined not long afterward to rend him that offered it to the heart.

* * * * *

The assumption of the royal dignity by Gloucester, brings to a
conclusion the first half of our little narrative, relating to the man
who thus offered it to him.

Two equally remarkable, much-alike, and unenviable-in-conduct,
personages, are now presented to us, who had both risen to the highest
positions in their native land, the one to supreme authority as king;
the other his faithful, and almost unscrupulous lieutenant, henchman,
and catspaw, possessing a rivalling royal descent, but little removed
in directness from his own, to be from this service the most important
and influential of that king's subjects. A very dangerous and crazy
alliance between men of such kindred character and aspirations, and
destined assuredly not to last long.

Life never stands still,--in the very nature of things it cannot,--nor
remain long on an even, which means literally a dead level: it must
progress or recede. This is true generally of all life, but specially
so of one animated by ambitious longings. A spirit so prompted must
continue to ascend if there be any altitude to win, but if this be
denied, and the unstable path it follows at last begins to sink rather
than to rise beneath the advancing step, and points to the dread
bourne of obscurity and neglect; or, if the powerful antagonism of
rival claims and influence jostle it on one side and precede it; or,
the cold shadow of preference, joined with indifference and crushed
hopes paralyze its future efforts, there is neither anchorage nor
haven for the beaten bark, then the bitter promptings of envy and
shattered pride but too often occupy the heart instead, give demon
wings to its future course, urging it fatally onward to end in the
blind and reckless shipwreck of all.

Gloucester was proclaimed King on 22 June, and on 4 July went to the
Tower by water, accompanied by his Queen. On that day among the titles
of honour distributed, was that "Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham,
was made Constable of England for term of life, but he claimed the
office by inheritance."[20] He had previously been elected a Knight of
the Garter.

[20] Buck's _Life of Richard III._

The next day Richard rode in state from the Tower through the City to
Westminster, and a large cavalcade of the nobility and the great
officers of state. "But the Duke of Buckingham carried the splendour
of that day's bravery, his habit and caparisons of blue velvet,
embroidered with _Golden naves of carts, burning_, the trappings
supported by footmen habited costly and suitable."

On the day following, 6 July, the coronation of Richard and his Queen
took place, when "all the prelates mitred in their _pontificalibus_"
received the King in Westminster Hall, and in the grand procession,
after the great Officers of State carrying the royal insignia, came
the "King in a surcoat and robe of purple, the canopy borne by the
Barons of the Five Ports, the King between the Bishops of Bath and
Durham, the Duke of Buckingham bearing up his train, and served with a
White Staff for Seneschal, or High Steward of England," an office he
appears to have held for that day only; while in the Queen's
procession "the Earl of Surrey was Constable (_pro illa vice
tantum_)."[21]

[21] Buck's _Life of Richard III._

Richard, instead of summoning a Parliament, held a conference with
some of the principal nobles, and after charging them to preserve the
peace and put down all crime and disorder, set off for a progress
through the midland counties, the end of the journey to be York, where
a second coronation was performed by Archbishop Rotherham, and Richard
created his son Prince of Wales.

From Windsor the King passed through his manor of Woodstock to Oxford,
and it being fine summer weather, the people kept high holiday on the
route of the royal progress. At the University he appears to have been
particularly well received, and acceded to their petition to release
Morton, the Bishop of Ely, from his durance in the Tower, as that
prelate was a special favourite with them, and having done so,
consigned him to the gentler and freer espionage of his friend the
Duke of Buckingham, who sent the Bishop down to his Castle of
Brecknock in South Wales.

This transfer of the Bishop from the Tower to Wales, was the first
step in the prelude whose _dénouement_ was to be at Bosworth. There
was no man whose ability Richard more disliked and feared than
Morton's, and that prelate had an equally intense hostility toward the
King. But one thing was manifest by his thus committing the Bishop to
Buckingham's custody, he could not at the time have had any doubt of
the Duke's continued fealty toward him.

The progress continued to Gloucester, the King "making small stay
anywhere." Here at this ominously-named city, from which he derived
his title, two circumstances occurred whose issues eventually wrested
the Crown from his brow, which he was hastening to York,--as if to
make assurance doubly sure,--thereon to have it set with all ceremony
for the second time. The first of these incidents was his parting from
Buckingham, as it turned out, for ever,--although he appeared to be
still "constantly disposed and affected toward him in all outward
appearance." The other was that from here the first message is said to
have been sped--to be afterward repeated with more deadly effect from
Warwick--for the murder of the young Princes in the Tower, a crime
that for wanton cruelty and hideousness completely dwarfed the legion
of others he had previously committed. At last Richard's daring had
reckoned without its host, no such enormity had ever occurred in
England before, he had "miscalculated the national sentiment, there
was a fierce reaction, his popularity went in a day."

Richard is said to have dismissed Buckingham at Gloucester, "with rich
gifts and extraordinary marks of favour and affection." Whatever these
may have been, he had previously given him an enormous number of
appointments and offices in Wales, which had constituted him almost a
little king in the Principality. While Protector, he

"procured for the Duke almost all the government and authority in
Wales, and other bordering counties, the offices of Constable of
all the King's Castles, and Steward of the said Castles, and
divers Manors, Royalties, Lands and Lordships, in Salop,
Hereford, Somerset, Dorset, and Wilts, without making account, or
rendering anything to the King Edward V. Together with the
oversight and government of his subjects in those counties and
power and authority for the security of the King's person and
kingdom, and conservation of the peace in those parts, to call
them together and array and arm them. Also the office of Chief
Justice and Chamberlain of North and South for his life."[22]

[22] Buck's _Life of Richard III._

When Richard became King, he added a further large number of similar
appointments, and the most, if not the whole, were dowered "with the
fees anciently due and accustomed thereto," so that besides giving him
great authority, they must have afforded him a large income.

Buckingham adjournied on from Gloucester, to his castle of Brecknock,
in what state of mind, it is difficult to guess. Arrived there, he
found his ghostly prisoner, with all complaisance waiting to welcome
him. It must have been here also, or on his way hither, that the Duke
received the intelligence of the murder of the Princes in the Tower.
The ghastly news would presumably have greatly startled both
Buckingham and the prelate, unless Richard had confided the grim
secret to the Duke prior to his parting from him at Gloucester, a
supposition we would fain believe not to have been the case, for two
reasons, one that the youths were almost as nearly related to
Buckingham as they were to himself, being the Duke's wife's sister's
children, his nephews by marriage, and there was not like overwhelming
motive for him to acquiesce in such atrocity, as actuated Richard; and
secondly, a crime of such glaring enormity would scarcely brook
revelation to anyone, beyond the person designed to be the instrument
employed to perpetrate it, nor then, until the last moment brought the
dire necessity; and although Richard was hardened enough and bold
enough for anything, still the youths were nearly related to
Buckingham, and Gloucester could not be sure how his--as it turned
out--half-alienated friend might receive it.

Morton, who is described as being "a very wise, politic person, a man
of learning, and of a winning behaviour," did not allow his host to
remain long inactive and unattacked with regard to the great scheme he
had in view. Within the influence of such a mind, Buckingham, weak,
vacillating, ambitious, and unscrupulous, would literally be nowhere,
and so it turned out.

On his arrival at the Castle, Buckingham, it is said, was still full
of the praises of Richard. In a qualified sense this was probably so;
Morton comprehended the situation at once; he had probably anticipated
it, and was prepared with his plans. The argument the astute
ecclesiastic used was double-edged. He knew it would not be safe to
depreciate Richard's character alone without some compensating,
alluring set-off; and so he coupled with it the inevitably
unsettling--the prelude to convincing--one to minds constituted as
Buckingham's,--that of flattering his vanity with the vision of
rivalship, by setting forth the equal if not superior claim to the
highest dignity, he possessed, both in disposition, wisdom, and birth;
supplemented by a contrasted view of Richard's atrocious wickedness,
and unprincipled usurpation. Not that Morton really wished or desired
such a thing, as the sequel proved, because a shift of this nature
would be only exchanging the bad for as bad; but if he could alienate
Buckingham from Richard half the battle would be won, the ultimate
design would take care of itself, and may be unfolded in due time. So
the fly played with the spider; and, said the Bishop to his
gaoler-host,--

"As for the late Protector, since he is now King, I do not intend
to dispute his title; however for the good of the realm he
governs (of which I am a poor member) I was about to wish, that
to the good qualities he possesses, it had pleased God to have
added some of those excellent virtues, requisite for the
governing a kingdom, which are so conspicuous in the person of
your Grace."[23]

[23] _More._

So Morton is said to have whetted Buckingham's appetite and appealed
to his pride, and the Duke, as a matter of course, wished to hear
further of the mind of his adroit and agreeable prisoner, promising
the utmost secrecy in all things concerned, on a subject evidently
congenial to him. Morton soon discovered this, and growing bolder,
placed in striking and flattering contrast the superior qualities of
his host, compared with the evil and cruel characteristics of Richard,
under whom "if he at any time is suspicious of his fidelity to him, no
man is sure of his own life," and continued he,--

"to conclude this discourse, I conjure you by your love to God,
your illustrious line, and your native country, to take the
imperial crown of this realm upon you, to restore this kingdom to
its antient splendor, and deliver it from the violence of the
oppressor. I dare affirm if the Turk stood in competition with
this bloody tyrant, this killer of infants, the people of England
would prefer him to Richard who now sits upon the throne. How
much more then would they rejoice to live under the government of
so excellent a prince as your Grace? Despise not neither lose so
fair an occasion of saving yourself and your country."[24]

[24] "_Continuation_," from Hall and Hollinshead's Chronicles.

Thus much for the preliminary portion of the prelate's speech, to
enlist the ear of his auditor, and then he added, what he intended the
foregoing adulation should lead up to,--

"But if you will not yourself accept the sovereignty of this
kingdom, if the toils and hazards of a crown, prevail over you
more than the charms of power, I entreat you by the faith you owe
to God, by your affection to the place that gave you birth, and
to the English nation; that you will in your high and princely
wisdom think of some means of advancing such a good governor, as
you shall appoint to rule and govern them. All the hopes of the
people of England are in you, and to you only can they fly for
succour. If you could set up the house of Lancaster once more, or
marry the eldest daughter of king Edward to some great and potent
prince, the new King would not long enjoy his usurped empire, all
civil war would cease, domestic discord would sleep, and
universal peace and profit be the blessings of this noble
land."[25]

[25] "_Continuation_," from Hall and Hollinshead's Chronicles.

This candid statement appears to have been a _poser_ for Buckingham,
who, it is added, "continued silent some time," at which the Bishop in
his turn "changed colour, and was very much confused," expecting the
Duke to have warmly coincided; who, "perceiving the Bishop's affright,
bade him fear nothing, and they would have further talk on the morrow,
but now 'let us go to supper.'"

The Duke sent for Morton the next day, and not being quite easy and
sure within himself, bade the Bishop rehearse the whole matter over
again. This done, Buckingham "pulled off his hat, and made a sort of
prayer," which being ended, "he then put on his hat, and applied
himself to the Bishop."

Buckingham's reply to Morton was a kind of declaration and confession
combined. He began with a similar strain of profession of regard
toward the Bishop, having always found him "a sure friend, a trusty
counsellor, and a vigilant statesman," and as the Bishop had so
unreservedly opened his mind to him, he would reciprocate the
confidence. And so he began by declaring,--

"that when King Edward died, to whom I thought I was very little
obliged (though he and I had married two sisters), because he
neither promoted or preferred me, as I thought I deserved by my
birth, and the relation I had to him; I did not much value his
children's interest, having their father's ill usage still in my
mind."

and also that it would be of "ill consequence" to the nation, for the
young King to govern, with his mother for Regent, and all her family,
who were persons of "no high descent" occupying the most important
positions, and have more share in the government than the King's
relations and the other persons who were of the "very highest quality"
in the kingdom, and so,--

"for these reasons I thought it to be for the public welfare, and
my private advantage to side with the Duke of Gloucester, whom I
took to be as sincere and merciful, as I now find him to be false
and cruel. By my means, as you know well, he was made Protector
of the King, and Kingdom."

That after this Gloucester produced to him and others "instruments
witnessed by doctors, proctors, and notaries," shewing that Edward's
children were bastards, and himself the rightful heir to the throne,
which they believed to be true, and so took him for their "rightful
prince and sovereign," and it was by his assistance he was made King,
at which time

"he promised me at Baynards-Castle, laying his hand on mine, that
the two young Princes should live and be provided for, to mine
and everyone's satisfaction. When he was in possession of the
throne he forgot his friends, and the assurances he had given
them, and denied to grant my petition for part of the Earl of
Hereford's lands, which his brother wrongfully detained from me.
And when I was certainly informed of the death of the two
innocent Princes, to which (God be my judge) I never consented,
my blood curdled at his treason and barbarity, I abhorred the
sight of him, and his company much more."

This statement as to the refusal of Richard to give him the portion of
the Earl of Hereford's lands, does not accord with Dugdale's account
to which we shall refer, nor with Richard's bitter exclamation of
reproach when he heard of Buckingham's defection.

The Duke then continues to narrate how on his way homeward to
Brecknock, he "meditated" how he might dethrone Richard, and that "had
I assumed the supreme power, I thought there was nobody so likely to
carry it as myself," that he sojourned two days at Tewkesbury brooding
over the matter, but considered altogether "that to pretend to seat
myself on the throne would not do," as in that case both the houses of
York and Lancaster would join themselves against him, although he
remembered,--

"that Edmund, Duke of Somerset, my grandfather, was with king
Henry VI. in two or three degrees from John, Duke of Lancaster,
lawfully begotten, my mother being Duke Edmund's eldest daughter,
I looked on myself as next heir to Henry VI. of the house of
Lancaster. But as I further journied between Worcester and
Bridgenorth, I met the Lady Margaret, Countess of Richmond, at
present wife to the Lord Stanley, who is the rightful and sole
heir of John, Duke of Somerset, my grandfather's elder brother,
whose title I had forgot until I saw her in my way, and then I
remembered that both her claim, and her son the Earl of
Richmond's, were bars to mine, and forbad my pretending to the
crown of England."

At this interview it was proposed by the Countess that her son should
marry one of king Edward's daughters, and "conjured" Buckingham, "by
the memory of Duke Humphrey, his grandfather," to do his utmost to
forward the match, to be eventually a solution to the present
troubles, and he came to a resolution to "spend his life and fortune"
in forwarding such a "glorious design," by which, if effected, he
doubted not "the proud boar, whose tusks have gored so many innocent
persons, shall soon be brought to confusion, the rightful and
indubitate heir enjoy the crown, and peace be restored to this
distracted kingdom."

This was exactly the kind of confession Morton required, and all being
agreed on, the next thing was to get some trusty envoy to send to the
Countess of Richmond to concert measures. He was soon found in the
person of Sir Reginald Braye, who was despatched to her with the
announcement of Buckingham and Morton's design, and to get her to
communicate with the Queen-Mother and acquire her assent and adherence
to the project. This the Countess effected through the medium of Dr.
Lewis, her physician, and the Queen-Mother readily assented, on the
stipulated condition that the Earl of Richmond married her daughter
Elizabeth, and failing her, the next eldest, Cecilia.

Morton having taken captive the mind, if not the person of his gaoler,
now wished the Duke to set him at liberty, and let him go to his
diocese in Ely, where his friends would preserve him from any violence
of Richard's,--"once I find myself at Ely," said he to Buckingham,
"with four days start of Richard, I am ready to defy all his malice."
The Duke however had no mind to lose so good an adviser, and did not
wish him to leave, but Morton was determined to be gone if he could,
and so stole away from Brecknock Castle in disguise, and doubtless
without the Duke's knowledge.

It is rather difficult to estimate Morton's action on this occasion.
The secret was out, the measures were concerted, and would soon get
wind; was he afraid of Richard's vengeance? By his leaving Buckingham
thus, he greatly compromised the Duke if their plans failed, and left
him to certain destruction, while he would be in safety. With great
rapidity he crossed from Brecknock to Ely, a hundred and seventy
miles, and thence to Wisbech, and with money and men he had collected
from his great works in the Fens, took shipping and got safely over to
Flanders, and the first intelligence Richard had of his flight, was
that he was in Brittany with the Earl of Richmond. Richard doubtless
was fully alive to the threatened danger, and Shakspeare well imagines
his apprehension in the words,--

"Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
Than Buckingham with all his rash-levied strength."

Matters now proceeded apace toward the development of the movement.
Sir Reginald Braye, as the trusty ambassador, had won over Sir Giles
Daubeney, Sir John Cheney, Sir Richard Guilford, and others, and with
these were the Courtenays, Sir Edward, afterward Earl of Devon, and
Bishop Peter Courtenay, Sir Robert Willoughby, afterward Lord Broke,
Sir Thomas Arundell, and Sir Thomas Brandon, these were to
_rendez-vous_ at or near Salisbury: the Marquis of Dorset had left his
sanctuary, and with his uncle Sir Richard Widville had gone to the
north. Dr. Christopher Urswick, Chaplain to the Countess, and Thomas
Rame, had been despatched by her by different routes to Brittany to
apprise her son of the complexion of the movement, and he was to
appear off the western coast with a fleet and men to land in aid.

Richard, of course, soon found out the character of the insurrection
and those implicated in it. To Buckingham he first sent a "very kind
obliging letter," inviting him to come to London, but the Duke
"pretended indisposition," and so excused himself. The King thereon
being enraged, sent him "a letter in a rougher stile, commanding him
on his allegiance to attend him." But the die was cast, matters had
gone too far to recede, and the message was returned by the Duke,
"that he would not expose himself to his mortal enemy, whom he neither
loved nor would serve."

Buckingham gathered together as soon as possible his "rash-levied"
strength. These consisted of a number of his tenants and a host of
ill-disciplined Welshmen, and he endeavoured by long marches, passing
through the Forest of Dean, to get to Gloucester, and thence onward to
join the western contingent. The Earl of Richmond set sail from
Brittany, the twelfth of October, with a fleet of forty ships and five
thousand Bretons on board. They appear to have at once encountered a
storm, which dispersed the fleet, but

"the ship in which was the Earl in person, was driven on the
coast of England, to the mouth of the haven of Poole, in
Dorsetshire; where, finding the shore was crowded with troops to
oppose his descent, he forbad any of his men to land until the
whole navy came up. However he sent out his boat with some
officers to demand of the men who stood on the shore, whether
they were friends or enemies? These traitors instructed by king
Richard, answered, 'They were friends posted there by the Duke of
Bucks to receive the Earl of Richmond.' The Earl suspecting the
deceit, and perceiving he was alone, the rest of his fleet not
appearing, weighed anchor, returned to France, and landed in
Normandy."

But how fared Buckingham and his motley host? Not only circumstances,
but Nature fought against him. The river Severn, swollen by ten days
continuous rain, overflowed all the adjoining country, doing immense
damage, and the inundation was so large, and of such remarkable
character, that for a hundred years afterward it was named and
recollected as _The Great Water_, or _Buckingham's Water_, and
tradition delivers it was so severe "that men, women, and children
were carried away in their beds with the violence of it."

This inundation totally prevented the Duke and his army crossing the
river, and his allies on the other side coming to his support. The
Welshmen "tried with being exposed to hunger, rain, and numberless
hardships, returned to their homes,"--they appear to have deserted by
degrees, "until at last the Duke had none left about him but his
domestic servants, nor could prayers nor threats keep them together,
so he was obliged to fly with the rest."

Thus prematurely ended this unfortunate movement, and Buckingham fled
for refuge and secrecy to the house of his old servant, Ralph
Banister, to whom himself, and his father before him, had shewn many
acts of kindness.

Richard had gone down north to organize an army to meet the
insurrection, and on the twelfth of October was at Lincoln, to see the
Bishop, who however was absent and sick. Here the King sent him a
letter to the following intent,--

By the KING.

"Right Reverend Fadre in God, and Right trusty and wellbeloved;
We grete you wele, and in our hertiest wyse thank you for the
manyfold Presentes that your Servantes in your behalve have
presented unto Us at this oure being here: which we assure you we
toke and accepted with good hert; and so we have cawse. And
whereas We by Goddes Grace intend briefly to avaunce us towards
our Rebel and Traitor the Duc of Buckingham, to resiste and
withstand his malicious purpose, as lately by our other Letters
We certifyed you oure mynd more at large; For which Cause it
behoveth us to have our grete Sele here, We being enfourmed, that
for such Infirmities and Deseases as ye susteyne ne may in your
person to your ease conveniently come unto us with the same:
Wherefore we will, and natheless charge you that forthwith upon
the sight of thies, yee saufly do the same our grete Sele to be
sent unto us; and such of th'office of oure Chauncery as by your
Wisedome shall be thought necessary, receiving these oure Letters
for youre sufficient Discharge in that behalve. Yeven under oure
Signet at oure Cite of Lincolne the xii day of Octobre."

To which Richard with his own hand, added this remarkable and
significant postscript,--

"We wolde most gladly ye came your selff, yf that ye may, and yf
ye may not, we pray you not to fayle, but to accomplyshe in al
dyllygence oure sayd commaundement, to send oure Seale
incontinent apon the syght hereof, as we truste you with such as
ye truste, and the Officers parteyning, to attend with hyt;
praying you to ascerteyn us of your Newes ther. Here loved be
God, is al wel, and trewly determyned, and for to resiste the
Malyse of him, that had best Cawse to be trew, the Duc of
Bokyngham the most untrew Creature lyvynge. Whom with Gods Grace
we shall not be long til that we wyll be in that parties, and
subdew his Malys. Wee assure you there was never falsre Traitor
purvayde for, as this Berrer Gloucester shal shew you."

What Richard was in such hurry to get his Great Seal for, was manifest
at Leicester. Here, on the twenty-third of the month, he issued a
proclamation against the rebels, and offering rewards for their
apprehension. For Buckingham it was a thousand pounds in money, or a
hundred pounds yearly in land, for the Marquis of Dorset and the
Bishops of Ely and Salisbury a thousand marks in money each, or one
hundred marks in land, and smaller sums for knights and gentlemen of
lesser degree. His reprobation appears to have been specially directed
against the Marquis of Dorset, "who, at the perill of his soule, hath
many and sundry maids, widows, and wives, damnably, and without shame,
deflowered and defiled." The next day at Coventry,--

"In order to make short work, and avoid the usual formalities of
the courts of justice, he commissioned Sir Ralph Ashton to
exercise the office of Vice-Constable, with so extensive a power,
that he could condemn and execute on the spot, all persons
whatever, guilty or suspected of the crime of high-treason,
without having regard to any appeal."

Ashton, who was probably a man after his master's heart, took summary
vengeance on the dispersed insurrectionists, and coming into the
western counties signalized his zeal by numerous executions of those
adjudged by him guilty, or only of favouring the conspirators;
anticipating in spirit and action the bloody campaign of the
detestable Jeffreys, on a similar errand two centuries afterward.

"It is better to trust in the Lord, than to put confidence in man,
than to put confidence in princes;"--had ever the royal Psalmist's
words truer interpretation than in the fate of Buckingham, whom we
left hiding with his servant near Shrewsbury? Alas for the fidelity of
servants when exposed to temptation; but is not falseness ever the
attribute of servitude? Instead of the noble self-denial of sheltering
and befriending his old master and friend, the glittering prize of a
thousand pounds was within his grasp, the position of being a petty
squire with a "manor of land" was before his eyes, and the temptation
proved to be too much for "Maister Rauf Banistre," who, casting the
eternal odium that would inseparably be attached to such conduct to
the winds, went and betrayed the whereabouts of his master to John
Milton, Esq., then Sheriff of Shropshire, who with a party of soldiery
surrounded and searched the locality, apprehended him in a little
grove near Banister's house, and conveyed him to Shrewsbury.

After a short confinement there, the Duke by royal order was delivered
over to the custody of Sir James Tyler and another knight; and,
"appareled in a piled black cloak," was escorted to Salisbury.

Richard who was pursuing his journey southward, had probably reached
Salisbury before his prisoner had arrived.

No time was lost in dealing with the noble captive. His fate had
already been foreshadowed in Richard's postscript to the Bishop,--

"When this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brained Buckingham."

And there could be but one effectual way to "subdue his malys," and to
put permanently beyond the power of future mischief this "never falsre
traitor to be purvayde for,"--this "most untrew creature lyvynge."

The Duke was closely examined by his captors, and is said to have
confessed the whole plan of the insurrection, and all particulars of
the conspiracy.

He then made energetic efforts to obtain an interview with Richard,
hoping to excite his compassion, or, as it has been also surmised,
purposing if opportunity offered to despatch him with a concealed
dagger. But he was sueing a much more able and crafty person than
himself. Richard was about the last man to trust himself into the
compromising company of his victim, and so into colloquy with one with
whom he had aforetime been partner in so many crimes, and to whom he
also owed so much, in acquiring his present position. Richard refused
to see him, and his doom was immediate death, without further trial or
arraignment.

BUCKINGHAM. Will not King Richard let me speak with him?

SHERIFF. No, my good lord; therefore be patient.

BUCKINGHAM. Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey,
Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice;
If that your moody discontented souls
Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction!--
This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not?

SHERIFF. It is, my lord.

BUCKINGHAM. Why then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday.

It was even so. On 2 November, 1483, being All-Souls day, the Duke of
Buckingham was beheaded in or near the Market Place, at Salisbury.

It is singular that such little knowledge remains as to the exact spot
where this unfortunate but unscrupulous man perished, and no official
evidence at all exists as to his place of burial. Relative to this Sir
R. C. Hoare says,--

"It is remarkable that no allusion to this transaction is found
in the documents at Salisbury, even though it took place on the
second of November, the day of choosing the Mayor and other
public officers; whose appointment is recorded in the usual form.
Possibly the city authorities were too deeply implicated in the
intended insurrection to risk even a reference to the subject.
The Pipe Roll of the reign of Richard III. has been carefully
examined, but the search has been fruitless. It is proper to
observe, however, that a stone is still pointed out, as that on
which Buckingham suffered. This stone is in the yard adjoining
the house now occupied by Messrs. Styles and Large, which
formerly belonged to the Blue Boar Inn."

Concerning this, Hall observes,--

"'Without arraignment or judgment, he was, in the open
Market-place on a new scaffold, beheaded and put to death. His
death he received at the hands of king Richard, whom he had
before, in his affairs, purposes, enterprises, holden, sustained,
and set forward, above all God's forbode."

And this account is corroborated by documents in the _Stafford MSS._,
quoted by the historian of Shrewsbury. The passage on the subject is
as follows:--

"And so all the gentlemen of Harrefordshire weare send for by
Privy Seale to King Richard to _Salisburie_, and by that time
Duke Henry of Buckingham, was brought by Sir James Tyler, the
third daye, wheare he was pittifullie murdered by the said Kinge,
for raisinge power to bring in King Henrie the Seventh."

The Duke having been thus summarily disposed of, what became of the
wretch that betrayed him? One account narrates,--

"Banister and his whole family were destroyed by the surprizing
judgments of the Almighty. The Usurper refused to pay him the
thousand pounds promised in the Proclamation, saying, 'He that
would betray so good a Master, would be false to any other.'"

But according to another, and truer version, the informer received his
reward, and,--

"with the king's commendation of his service in his letters
patent; for he gave him the Manour and Lordship of Ealding in
Kent, late belonging to the Duke of Buckingham. So the letters
ran,--'RICHARD &c.,--_to al and singular the Officers, &c.,--Wit
ye, that in consideration of the true and faithful service which
our well beloved servant Rauf Banistre Esq, now late hath done
unto us, for and about the taking and bringing of our said great
Rebel into our hands, we have given unto the said Rauf, and to
his heirs male, the said Manour for ever._'"

Both giver and receiver a congenial pair, and the gift that passed a
characteristic one, being a portion of the spoil of their victim. Of
such men it may be said,--

"Shame and Desolation sit
By their graves ever."

But where was Buckingham buried, after he had been thus "condemned and
executed in such summary way, on a new scaffold erected in the
Market-place of Salisbury." A tomb to his memory is erected in
Britford church, about a mile and a half distant from that city,
but it is a cenotaph only, his body was not interred there; where then
was its final resting-place, after his troublous life had found such
disastrous extinction? Still further ignominy appears to have remained
to be meted out to the inanimate form, after man had wreaked his last
vengeance on the life.

[Illustration: DISCOVERY MADE IN THE KITCHEN OF THE SARACEN'S
HEAD INN, SALISBURY.

_From the Saturday Magazine, 6 April, 1839._]

From an article in the _Saturday Magazine_, 6 April, 1839, we gather
the following,--

"Tradition assigns the court-yard of the Blue Boar Inn, as the
scene of this bloody tragedy; but great uncertainty seems always
to have prevailed as to the spot where the mutilated remains of
this unfortunate nobleman were finally deposited. The
frontispiece which is presented to our readers, gives a view of
the kitchen of an inn (the Saracen's Head) in Salisbury, in
which, while some repairs and alterations were being made, a
skeleton, in the condition shewn in the picture, was discovered
beneath the floor of the apartment, which is on a level with the
ground. A view of the appearance of the figure, together with the
apartment, was made and published by Mr. J. M. Cullam--of which
view, with his permission we have taken a copy. These human
remains, are with good reason, supposed to have belonged to that
Duke of Buckingham.

"It is supposed that the head and right arm, after having been
submitted to the personal inspection of the King, then resident
in "the King's house," in the Close, were sent to London to be
affixed to Temple Bar, or exposed on Tower Hill, as was commonly
used to be done in those times. A tomb in the north chantry of
St. Thomas's church, Salisbury, was once supposed to contain the
remains of Buckingham, and another in Britford church, near
Salisbury, obtained a similar reputation; but sufficient evidence
has been found to shew these were only _monuments_ to his memory,
and no indications, leading to probability, have ever appeared,
to point out the place of the sepulture of the Duke of
Buckingham, till the discovery took place represented in our
frontispiece.

"The Saracen's Head Inn (owing to the peculiar contiguity of the
two places) is supposed to have once formed part of the premises
attached to those of the Blue Boar. The grave, therefore, of the
Duke, was probably made only a few yards, possibly feet, from the
spot where he suffered decapitation. The skeleton was found about
eight inches below the surface of the soil; the spinal column
appeared imbedded in the clay, and on taking up some of the
detached vertebræ, they crumbled to dust in the hands. All the
remains were in a like friable condition."

Commenting on this discovery, Sir R. C. Hoare remarks,--

"The most remarkable circumstance connected with this locality is
the recent discovery of a skeleton, found just under the pavement
in making some alterations in a kind of kitchen or out-house,
belonging to the Saracen's Head, which is close to the site of
the Blue Boar. It was that of a person apparently above the
middle size and had been deprived of the head and right arm. The
workman by whom it was found, omitted to notice whether the bones
of the neck had been separated by a sharp instrument, but could
remember that the bone of the arm appeared to have been cut off,
just below the shoulder, as if by a saw. These remains were
destroyed without proper examination.

"Of itself the discovery would prove nothing, but if the fact of
Buckingham's execution at Salisbury be indisputably established,
we shall not be guilty of too great a stretch of imagination, in
supposing these were his mutilated remains, interred
clandestinely, or, at least, without ceremony, near the spot
where he suffered."

The name of Blue Boar Row is still perpetuated on the south side of
the Market Place at Salisbury.

The tomb set up to his memory in Britford church, is in the place of
honour, on the north side of the chancel. It is a high-tomb with
Purbeck marble cover-stone, but exhibiting no brass indent, or
inscription. Below are six canopied niches containing figures:--1.
Figure gone.--2. Crowned female saint, with remains of cross (?),
probably St. Margaret.--3. A bishop with pastoral staff, and hand
raised in benediction.--4. A female saint crowned, St. Katharine with
wheel and sword.--5. St. George, with sword, shield, and dragon under
his feet.--6. A female saint bearing a pix or shrine, St. Mary
Magdalene (?). At the west end are two niches having within them
angels holding shields with the bearings sculptured thereon:--1. _A
chevron_, evidently for STAFFORD, and 2. _A fess_ (apparently _cotised
engrailed_, but perhaps only an ornament introduced by the sculptor),
for WIDVILLE, EARL RIVERS. Over the tomb is a detached ogee arched
crocketted canopy, with large finial, springing from embattled and
pinnacled side buttresses. The canopy is ornamented with vine foliage
and fruit; the workmanship of the whole composition is of coarse
character. On a modern brass plate affixed above the tomb is this
inscription,--

HENRICUS·STAFFORD·DUX·BUCKINGHAM
DECAPITATUS APUD SALISBURI·I·RIC·III·A.D./1483.

It is probable this memento at Britford was erected by the Duke's
brother-in-law, Lionel Widville, who was Bishop of Salisbury at the
time of Buckingham's execution. Its position outside the city was
doubtless adopted to deprecate prominence and discussion at this
dangerous era.

The Bishop was the third son of Sir Richard Widville, the first Earl
Rivers (so created by Edward IV., in 1466, and who was subsequently
beheaded at Northampton, 1467), by his wife Jacqueline of Luxemburg,
widow of John Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford. He was brother to
Elizabeth, Queen of Edward IV., and so uncle to the unfortunate
Princes so relentlessly destroyed by Gloucester, brother also to
Katharine, wife of Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, and Anthony,
Earl Rivers, executed at Pontefract by Richard III. He held the See
two years only, 1482-4, and his death is said to have been accelerated
by the fate of his brother-in-law at Salisbury, and the other
misfortunes that befell his family during the reign of Richard III.

The tomb assigned to Bishop Widville stands under the first arch of
the north aisle of the choir of the Cathedral, leading into the
transept.

It is a high altar-tomb, the cover-stone perfectly plain, with indent
for inscription on its edge, but the brass has disappeared. Below are
traceried panels, with shields in their centres, on which were
originally brass escutcheons. Over the tomb is a large and heavy
canopy, extending the whole width of the arch of the aisle. The arch
of the canopy is depressed, and cusped, with roses on the bosses of
the points. The vaulting within is panelled, as are also the side
buttresses. The spandrels are traceried with shields in the centres,
on which, as on the tomb below, were brasses. The whole composition
is of Purbeck marble, and of plain character.

Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, married Katharine, daughter of
Richard Widville,--created Earl Rivers by Edward IV., 24 May, 1466,
and constituted by that monarch Constable of England,--by his wife
Jacqueline of Luxemburg, widow of John Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford,
third son of King Henry IV. She was thus sister to Elizabeth, Queen of
Edward IV., and so aunt to the unfortunate Princes murdered in the
Tower.

By her the Duke had two sons and two daughters. Edward, eldest son,
who was restored to all the honours of his father, by Henry VII., and
made Constable of England and K.G. He appears to have offended, and,
according to Burke, "also excited the enmity of Wolsey," and that
ambitious prelate finally succeeded in accomplishing his ruin. Like
his father he was doomed to fall by domestic treason, for having
discharged one Knevet, a steward, for oppressing his tenantry; that
individual became a fit instrument in the hands of Wolsey to effect
the object he had at heart. Knevet declared "that the duke had
contemplated the assassination of the King, Henry VIII., in order that
he might ascend the throne himself as next heir, if his majesty died
without issue," and it was further alleged "hee had consulted a monke
or wizard, about succession of the crowne."

The Duke made a passionate and indignant denial to this frivolous, yet
withal foul charge, but nevertheless he was found guilty and beheaded
on Tower Hill, 17 May, 1521. Old Weever says, "he was a noble
gentleman, exceedingly much lamented of good men. Of whose death, when
the Emperour Charles the fift heard, he said, '_that a Butchers
dogge_, (meaning the Cardinall, a butchers sonne) _had deuoured the
fairest Buck_ (alluding to the name of Buckingham) _in all England_.'
He sometime lay sumptuously entombed in the church of the Augustine
Fryers, in London, and the bodies of a hundred more of exemplarie note
and degree, but now their bodies are not only despoiled of all outward
funerall ornaments, but digged up out of their requietories, and
dwelling houses raised in the place, which was appointed for their
eternal rest."

Henry, the second son, was created Earl of Wiltshire, 1 Henry VIII.,
1509, married first, Margaret, Countess of Wilts, and secondly, Cicely
Bonville, Marchioness of Dorset. More of him will be found under the
notice of Bonville. He died 6 March, 1523.

Elizabeth, eldest daughter married Robert Ratcliffe, created Lord
Fitzwalter, and afterward 28 Dec., 1529, Earl of Suffolk, K.G., and
Lord High Chamberlain. He died in 1542.

Anne, married first Sir Walter Herbert, second son of William Herbert,
first Earl of Pembroke and K.G. By a singular coincidence this Earl
met with his death through the desertion of a Stafford, Humphrey, Earl
of Devon, of the Suthwyck in Wiltshire and Hooke in Dorsetshire branch
of the family; who withdrew his support at Banbury, and Pembroke was
defeated at Danesmore in 1469, and afterward taken to Northampton and
beheaded. Secondly, she married George Hastings, first Earl of
Huntingdon, of the second creation, who died in 1544, and was buried
at Stoke-Pogis. She survived the Earl, and at her death was interred
beside him.

The motives that influenced the conduct and actions of Buckingham have
been a subject of much speculation among historians, and it is
doubtful if any fixed determination or aim lay at the bottom of any of
them, beyond the chances or necessities of the passing hour. The
social aspect of the age in which he lived exhibited merely a
succession of plots for the mastery of ruling for the time being, and
almost everyone having station above the ordinary citizen, was by
turns embroiled or mixed up in them; while those holding distinguished
positions by birth or influence, were almost forced to take active
part, with all their consequent perils. Ambition, cruelty, and callous
hardness, trampled under foot all the finer feelings of the heart and
mind,--hypocrisy and treachery invaded the most sacred ties of home
and blood-relationship, the desire of worldly power, and holding their
neighbours in the yoke of bondage, was the prevalent feeling, to which
all others were sacrificed, and the opposing factions met each other
on the field of battle, and fought for the governing power at the
sword's point, with the sacrifice of myriads of human lives. At this
distance of time it may be asked, what result after all, was effected
by this bloodshed that surged through the country for half-a-century?
It may be answered, none, beyond letting loose the worst vices that
infest humanity, and the consequent retardation of all that tends to
civilize the individual.

Amid such a storm of wickedness, strong minds alone had chance to
pilot themselves safely through it, and then with much uncertainty,
but what would be the fate of weak ones,--vacillating, uncertain,
capricious, such as Buckingham was said to possess? Only one in the
end, at that era, was reserved for such, and with unsparing revengeful
steps it overtook him.

That he was the main instrument of placing the Crown on Gloucester's
head, seems to admit of little doubt,--

"The first was I that help'd thee to the crown;
The last was I that felt thy tyranny."

It is equally uncertain what motive influenced his defection from
Richard. This has been said to have been Richard's withholding from
him the large estates which Buckingham claimed should have descended
to him as coheir of Bohun, as a reward for helping him to the Throne,
and so did not fulfil the implied promise of the compact. But was this
so? Richard may be readily believed to have been bad enough for
anything, but was he thus ungrateful to the man, to whom he was
indebted more than to any other for attaining his present position?

Upon this point there appears to be considerable doubt. Dugdale, under
his notice of Stafford in the _Baronage_, includes the following:--

"Having thus been the principal agent in advancing Richard to the
throne, and thereupon pressing his performance of what had been
privately promised, this new King signed a Bill for Livery of all
those lands unto him whereunto he pretended a right by descent
from Humphrey de Bohun; sometime Earl of Hereford, and Constable
of England. An abstract whereof I have here inserted, together
with a schedule of the Castles and Manors affixed thereto.

"R.R.

"Richard, by the grace of God, King of England, &c. &c. To all,
&c. Know ye, that We, not only considering, that our right
trusty, and right entyrely beloved Cosyn, Henry, Duke of
Buckingham, is Cosyn and Heir of blood to Humphrey Bohun, Earl of
Hereford; and rightful inheritor of such inheritances, as were of
the same late Earl, but also the true, feythful, and laudable
service, the which our seid Cosyn hath in many sundry wises done
unto us, to our right singular wele and plesure. Considering also
and understanding, that the Mannors, Lordships and Lands,
specified in the schedule, hereunto annexed, the which were
parcel of the inheritance of the said Earl, and were chosen and
accepted in purpartie by Harry the fifth, late King of England;
son of Mary one of the daughters and heirs of the said late
Earle; of a partition betwene the same late King, and Anne
daughter of Alianore, another of the daughters and heires of the
sayd late Earle; made by authority of Parliament in the second
year of his reigne; in allowance of other Mannours, Lordships,
Lands, &c., of the like value, allotted and assured in purpartie
to the same Anne, come unto the hands of Edward the fourth, late
King of England, our brother, by virtue of certain act or acts of
Parliament, made against Harry the sixth, deceased without issue;
so that our said Cosyn as true inheritor to the sayd inheritance
in forme abovesayd, should by his death have had and inherited
the said Mannours, Lordships, &c., specifyed in the said
schedule, if the sayd act or acts of Parliament, had never been
made. And also for certain other considerations Us especially
moving, wille and grant unto our sayd Cosyn, that in our next
Parliament to be holden, he shall be surely and lawfully, by act
of Parliament restored, fro' the Feste of Easter last past, to
all the foresaid Mannours, &c., specifyed in the sayd schedule;
and the same have, hold, and enjoy, to him and to his heires,
according to such states and titles, as he should or might have
done, if none act of Parliament had been made against the sayd
King Harry the sixth, touching the sayd Mannours, &c., at any
time since the death of the sayd late Earle. And, that our sayd
Cosyn now forthwith enter into all the same Mannours, and thereof
take the issues, &c., to his own use, fro' the sayd Feast of
Easter, unto the time he be thereto restored by authority of
Parliament, in fourme above remembered; without any account or
other thing yielding unto Us or our heires for the same. And,
that he have the making of all Officers, Gifts, and Benefices,
Wards, and other Profits, &c. In testimony whereof We have set
our Signet, and Sign-Manuell.

"Yoven at our Mannour of Greenwich, 13th of July, of our Reign
the First."

These Manors as enumerated in the schedule were fifty-three in number,
lying in nineteen counties, of which "_total sum valoris_, £1084 1_s._
9_d._" And he further adds,--

"Nay, an author of that time reports (_Chron. MS. Joh. Rous in bibl.
Cotton. p. 269._) that he (Richard) gave him all his riches, so that
he then made his boast that "he had as many liveries of _Stafford
Knots_, as Richard Nevill the late great Earle of Warwick had of
_Ragged Staves_."

As we before observed, to attempt to explain or speculate upon the
motives that actuated Buckingham in his extraordinary career, would be
alike both useless and fruitless. His eagerness and zeal displayed to
place Richard on the throne, his consent to, and consequent complicity
in the cold-blooded executions of his wife's brothers and their
associate at Pontefract, and also of Hastings, together with other
heinous transactions, to the prejudice and discomfiture of the nearer
tie of his wife's defenceless nephews, appear to have had no very
definite purpose as regarded himself, but only exhibited the actions
of an unscrupulous partisan and tool for others, the attributes of a
weak, contemptible mind. Was he aware of, and did he also assent to,
the last and most atrocious of Richard's crimes, the murder of the
Princes in the Tower, toward both of whom, the poor boys stood nearly
in the same relationship? If so, he was even more vile than Richard,
for _he_ had an excuse, ambition, albeit of the most loathsome kind,
to offer,--which Buckingham had not, nor indeed any that can be
imagined.

This question has, we believe, never been definitely answered, and so
we prefer to give Buckingham the benefit of the doubt, and to hope
that he did not do so. Although he appears to have excessively
disliked the Queen-Mother and her family, and was the chief promoter
of the movement to rob her sons of their royal heritage, still there
does not appear to be any direct evidence to incriminate him as
consenting to their deaths, after circumstances point to the contrary,
and he is said to have made use of their inhuman fate, as one of the
principal reasons for his desire to dethrone Richard.

The complete confirmation, however, of his weak, unsettled,
poorly-ambitious mind, which led to his final defection and action
against Richard, was doubtless due to the persuasive powers of his
prisoner-guest, the wary, far-seeing, intellectual Morton, in whose
hands, with plans carefully prepared, and subtle knowledge of the
world and human life, Buckingham would be little more than a child.
There is not however much to admire in this ecclesiastic's furtive
flight from the custody of his host,--for his enforced sojourn at
Brecknock Castle could be called in its conditions but little
otherwise than that of a visitor. Then speedily placing himself in a
position of safety, he left the seeds of disaffection he found sown in
the mind of Buckingham, and which he had carefully nurtured, to ripen
into foolish, hasty, miscalculated action, which revealed to Richard
truly enough the character of the movement, that was destined in the
end to deprive him of his kingdom and his life, but enabled him, as it
turned out, easily to send this its first pioneer to the scaffold.

Sufficient stress does not appear to have been laid on this incident,
and the influence it probably exercised, connected with the fate of
Buckingham. His wretched downfall and unenviable character have
consigned him to unpitying oblivion--the fate of many a better, but
unsuccessful man,--while the brilliantly fortunate career of his
quondam prisoner, has caused this circumstance to be forgotten, or
passed over in silence. It is not inferred that Morton originally
unsettled Buckingham's mind,--_that_ had taken place before,--but the
fact remains he confirmed that unsettledness, pointed out the way in
which he could be useful by hostile movement in the western counties,
and then took speedy flight beyond seas to Richmond, where he remained
in safety from the wrath of Richard, until after the battle of
Bosworth.

Buckingham naturally did not want to part with his genial
strong-minded prisoner and adviser,--but some excuse must nevertheless
be allowed Morton for his hasty exit. He well knew the suspicion
Richard had of him, and that king's jealousy of the strength of his
ability and influence, which he believed was not loyal toward him, and
the Bishop consequently being remitted to the custody of Buckingham.
After Morton had tampered with Buckingham, completed his other
traitorous negociations against Richard, and when circumstances were
rapidly shaping themselves, if not with very defined and concentrated
purpose, yet sufficiently large and apparent, as to render a hostile
movement against Richard's authority an event of the shortest notice;
and having also made full estimate of Buckingham's unreliable
character and incapacity, and that no mercy would be meted out to him
in such company, should an unsuccessful storm break forth and he fall
into the hands of his victor,--which was just what did happen in
Buckingham's case,--the first law of nature persuaded him, and he made
for a place of safety under the shadow of his idol, there to wait
further opportunity to aid, when the course of events afforded it.

John Morton was a west-country man, having been born about 1420, at
Bere-Regis, a small market town in central Dorset, where his family
had for some time been settled, and were of good standing. He was
educated in the Abbey of Cerne, and then entered Balliol College,
Oxford, where his proficiency attracted the notice of Cardinal
Bourchier. He was successively Rector of St. Dunstan's, London,
Prebendary of Wells, Bishop of Ely 1478, Archbishop of Canterbury
1486, Lord-Chancellor 1487, Cardinal of St. Anastasia 1493, and
Chancellor of Oxford. But he was much more than this, he was the
friend, counsellor, and financier--the last no easy position--to Henry
VII., the chief personage both in Church and State, at once Primate
and Premier, and the cementer of the union of the rival houses of the
Red and White Rose.

The merest glance at Morton's life would involve reference to the
principal events of the age in which he lived, and he has been perhaps
correctly designated as the foremost Englishman of his time. In their
way both Morton and Buckingham were the setters up of kings. Probably
the real prompting motive that lay at the bottom of both their minds,
and gave force to their action, was much the same,--the consequent
advancement, if their efforts succeeded, of their own station and
interests. Buckingham accomplished his object, but was disappointed at
the result. Then his thoughts turned to substitute another ruler, and
by strange circumstance he was thrown into counsel with an individual
bent on the same errand, but an infinitely abler and far-seeing man.
In this his second design, Buckingham led the forlorn hope and
perished; Morton entered the breach with the reserve, after the
fortress had been stormed and had capitulated. The motives that
actuated these henchmen of kings, as we have said, were doubtless
alike, whether fortune led the one to the scaffold, and gave the other
the delegated authority of the throne. The White Rose was good enough
for Morton until the White Boar became its representative. Then his
mind and energies turned to the Red Rose,--the triumph came,--with
consummate wisdom he wedded their rival pretensions and extinguished
the internecine strife. All now bade for peace, the path of the
highest distinction lay before him, he traversed it with the greatest
ability and success, and when he died had reached its most exalted
eminence, and the dream of his life had been fulfilled.

His death occurred, says Hutchins,--

"at Knole in Kent, 16. cal. Oct. 1500, as the Canterbury
Obituary, or 15. Sep. as the Register, aged 90. By his will dated
16 June, and proved 22 Oct. 1500, he _ordered 1000 marks to be
given in alms at his funeral; his best gilt cross and mitre to
the Church of Ely; to King Henry his best portiforium; to Queen
Elizabeth his best psalter; to Lady Margaret the King's mother, a
round image of the Blessed Virgin of Gold; to Lady Margaret his
god-daughter, and the King's eldest daughter, a cup of gold, &c.,
&c._

"He was buried in the Cathedral of Canterbury, in the crypt,
before the image of the Virgin Mary, called our Lady Under-Croft,
agreeable to his will. Over his stone coffin, which was first
deposited in the ground, was laid a marble, even with the surface
of the pavement, which being broken, several parts of his body
wrapt in cere-cloth, were taken away. At length the head only
remained, which in 1670, Ralph Sheldon of Beoly, Co. Worcester,
begged of Archbishop Sheldon, and at his death in 1684 left it to
his niece. Near his grave, on the south side of the chapel was a
goodly tomb erected to his memory, without any inscription."

The memorial to Cardinal Morton consists of a low altar-tomb on which
is his effigy robed in full _pontificalibus_. Six monks, or weepers,
three on each side, kneel beside the body. The arch of the canopy
above is ornamented on the inner soffit with the _rose crowned,
cardinal's hat, portcullis_, and his _rebus, a hawk or mort, on a
tun_, alternate; on the outer side with figures in niches. A lily in a
pot, between what remains of two figures probably representing the
Annunciation, is sculptured in the panel above the feet. The whole,
composed of a soft white stone, is in a state of considerable decay,
much mutilated, and begrimed with dust and dirt to a sooty hue.

How strange the metamorphosis death often assigns to the claims of
fame or station, especially to the memorials set up to them; of this,
the tomb and effigy before us furnishes notable example. Here,
enveloped in the dark shadows of this crypt, and scarcely discernible,
where, unless guided, human foot would scarcely dream of taking its
way in search of reminiscence to one so memorable, is the monument of
the principal Englishman of his era, who held the highest position in
the kingdom ecclesiastically and civilly, a statesman also of the
first order, the value of whose influence in settling the great
quarrel that had so long distracted his native land, and bringing it
peace, can now hardly be estimated.

Broken, tattered, despoiled,--gradually crumbling and
decaying,--covered also with the dust and neglect of ages, lies what
is left of the outward and visible semblance of John Morton, Prince of
the Church, Metropolitan of England, and Lord Chancellor to her King.
But a close scrutiny through the gloom shews us the stately lines of
his vestments, his broken mitre, his shattered staff, and on them the
traces of that sparing but rich ornament, that asserts at once the
erstwhile dignity of their wearer when in the flesh,--and typifies
with true presentment, the glimpses of his grand character, that now
comes back to us so vividly, through depth and dimness of the Past.
Even his very dust, carried away piecemeal by the thoughtless
wayfarer, adds significant tribute to the greatness of his memory; but
the six monks, headless and handless, still remain and kneel by his
side, patiently waiting amid the desolation and obscurity for the
eternal dawn.

[Illustration: EFFIGY OF JOHN MORTON, ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY
AND CARDINAL
CATHEDRAL--A.D. 1500]

Our steps finally take us back to Britford church, and a last look at
the cenotaph of the restless, unscrupulous, short-sighted, ill-fated
Buckingham. At the end of the tomb the decaying angels still support
the proud escutcheons of Stafford and Widville, names here, in the
funeral pomp of the grave, linked in the closest and most loving tie
of human relationship, but in the olden life precedent, opposed to
each other with a bitterness that death alone could appease. Time has
now gathered themselves and all their actions into his lap, the
fierceness of their strife is hushed into silence, and all the
suspense and agony that haunted their lives and tracked them to its
last resting-place, is over; and the wayfarer who contemplates their
sadly-incidented story, and seeks to identify the few wrecks left to
perpetuate their memory, as he turns away, mutters to himself the
prayerful entreaty doubtless once inscribed over their dust, "_cujus
anime propicietur Deus, Amen_."

We linger a moment to catch a glance at the remarkable Saxon doorways
still preserved in the nave,--relics coeval with the age when _Old_
Sarum was in its best estate, and centuries before the glorious fane
that adorns its _new_ namesake was born or thought of,--and then
emerge into the pleasant evening sunlight. How delightfully-reviving
the communion with the purity of Nature, after our thoughts have been
saddened by a contemplation of the self-sought miseries of her
children. We saunter quietly along under the fine trees that overhang
our path, loiter awhile to survey an old moated house, and then pass
on by a winding path through mead and lane to Salisbury. Before us is
the bright, busy little city, and above it is upreared the remarkable
feature that has made its reputation world-wide, the glorious spire of
its Cathedral. Higher and still more heavenward, its faultless
proportion rises at every step, until standing within its shadow, our
thoughts are lost in admiration of those men, who, when they had built
an earthly home "to the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity,"
reared this shaft of beauty from its midst, in testimony that their
aspirations were not satisfied until they had placed its top-stone as
near His heavenly home as human hands could raise it.

SALISBURY SPIRE.

Eyes of the soul,--turn from thought's busy realm,
And dwell awhile on yon height-piercing spire,
The sight is none that all things overwhelm,
But one that bids us rise to all things higher.
Delved from the earth a rude and shapeless thing,
Rended by force from the deep quarry's breast,--
Behold from such, a pure form upward spring,
In beauty's fairest vesture aptly drest.

So may'st thou ravish thought's uncultured mine,
From the rude mass harmonious outlines blend,
Clothe with true beauty all the fair design,
That based on earth shall to the heaven ascend
Like Babel's tower,--but no confusion show,
By one grand purpose raised from all that's low.

UNHORSED AT BOSWORTH.

The "silent finger that points to heaven" has, beyond all comparison,
its finest exemplar at Salisbury, and this record, although common as
a household word, is, notwithstanding, none the less true and
impressive, and ever returns with Tithonic vigour at each renewed
contemplation. Graceful in the happiest degree in proportion, its
great altitude gives a power to its slender beauty of form, altogether
beyond the rivalry of its sister spires that spring with humbler
charms from this land of ours. Thus it stands in grand isolated
dignity, amid the long-swelling undulations of the Wiltshire hills,
with base trending earth-ward, yet lost before touching the ground
amid the blue mist that creeps with shrouding haze along the
wolds,--but its fine-drawn point pierces with no uncertain intention
the quiet amber of the evening sky.

It would be perhaps difficult to find any where, taken in sympathy
with its peculiar associations, a picture more impressive and
delightful. The purpose of its builders,--the object of its
dedication,--its majesty of size and height, lifting itself as it were
far from the busy haunts and homes of those, who living, nestle at its
feet, or in death are laid beneath its protective shadow,--its
dark-tinted, yet well-defined, heaven-ward rising, beautiful
outline,--so suggestive in its form of the design of this life, scarce
rooted in the earth, yet with apex cleaving the sky, and tinctured too
akin with the gloomy tints of human uncertainty, summon a host of
thoughts from the inner recesses of the soul, and bids the gazer on
its fair proportion and upward glance ask himself as he views it, how
far the resemblance reflects his own condition, what he was designed
for, what he has made himself.

And now the attraction of its wonderful presence has drawn us nearer,
and we are sitting contemplatively under one of the large elms in the
Close where the grand proportions of the fine cathedral are before us.
Almost oppressive for a while, is the realization of its great size,
and the glance upward from the spirelets of the west front to the apex
of the glorious spire, vanishing in the blue ether. But the eye must
not dally with, nor dwell too lovingly on the delicate interlacery it
is arrayed in, for however beautiful in itself, or when viewed
alone, its decoration scarcely harmonizes with the bolder and more
largely-defined ornamental details of the structure below; and the
comparison at once assures us that this splendid addition was the
offspring of a somewhat later age, but redolent of the truest and
purest perception of architectural beauty, and was placed there with
feeling akin to the tasteful hand that completes the cluster of
gathered flowers with a tall spikelet of harmonious form, but of
otherwise almost imperceptible contrasting beauty.

[Illustration: EFFIGY OF LORD CHENEY, SALISBURY CATHEDRAL]

What words may appropriately describe this almost unrivalled picture?
Two lines from one of our greatest bards suggest themselves,--

"Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime--
Relic of nobler days, and noblest arts!"

to which may be added that rare impression of unbroken harmony, and
the pleasant satisfaction of this feeling clothes gratefully every
aspect presented.

Singularly pleasant to the eye, also, and giving a sense of stability
to this fine building, is the noble base-line of strong moulding that
follows every length, angle, and recess, and adds the finish of
completeness from spire to basement.

We enter, and within as without all is pure, severe, and uniform, the
offspring of an age before men's minds and hands were wooed of their
strength by the blandishments of ornament, and while yet they relied
on the rare and noble simplicity of perfected outline, ever the most
difficult of achievement, and, consequently when attained, ever the
more enduring of pleasure. Those dark, slender shafts, with their
deep-cut capitals, stand with airy but decided purpose from jutting
quoin, or flank the strong arches, perfectly harmonizing with the
contour of all about them; and while they relieve the monotony or
severity of their surroundings, do not intrude on the eye, nor
distract the attention further, but quietly and unobtrusively fill the
true subsidiary position that should ever be assigned to ornament, and
nothing beyond.

Were it possible to take a stranger into the cathedral, and, ignorant
of its existence, place him under the spire, the wildest flight of
imagination could not conjure within his mind the possibility of the
existence of the noble finial that rises above his head. The piers of
the arches on which it rests afford no clue, and although somewhat
larger than those near them, are nevertheless so comparatively slender
that they would attract no notice unless carefully pointed out, and
then a glance outside, and another survey within would startle him
into an almost awe-struck realization of the consummate boldness that
planned, and ability that carried to completion, this wonderful
afterthought, and impress him that there were indeed giants in
architectural resource, even in those "dark days," as we are sometimes
pleased to call them.

Another and most distinguished charm too, finds striking witness at
Salisbury. Its chaste and simple grandeur has fairly put to the rout
the modern decorator, with his paint-pots and gold leaf,--that sturdy
and well-patronized defacer of the real, with the garniture of the
cheat. No room for him here, or but scant and in soberest guise, and
his meretricious attractions are met everywhere with the declaration
mirrored in the gleaming Purbeck, or nestling in the ghost-like
shadows that haunt the deep-cut foliage that crowns it,--there is no
beauty like reality.

Thus much for our short survey of the stately fabric. Our next inquiry
is, what is the special purpose of our visit to-day--where is the
object we are in search of? It is for the memorial of one of those
half-courtier, half-soldier chieftains, so many of whom threw their
fortune in with his, and afterward found distinguished place and
occupation at the Court and government of the first Tudor king. Where
shall we find it? With a sort of shudder we take a survey of the
assemblage of monuments lying so regularly and suspiciously disposed,
in lines under the arches of the nave. In the long array we note
effigies of templars, bishops, and knights--interposed here and
there with brassless stones--reclining for the most part on
nondescript-looking tombs, composed of heterogeneous and patchwork
materials, having little or no relationship apparently to the figures
they support. Instantly we apprehend in its fullest sense, the
sacrilegious barbarism of Wyatt, who removed almost the whole of them
from their original places in other parts of the edifice, to their
present incongruous positions, making up the tombs piecemeal from such
fragments out of the general destruction, as happened to fit, or be
available,--probably the most deplorable desecration of its kind to be
found in the annals of archæological record, and which we wish we
could not further think of.

Singularly, almost uniquely rich was this cathedral in tombs of every
age, before this ruthless resurrectionist and invader of sepulchres
was let loose therein, toward the close of the last century to wreak
his fury. Dowsing was almost a hero in desecration, compared with the
callous and equally destructive energies of Wyatt, for while the
fanatic iconoclast had that fiercest of all flames, ignorant bigotry,
to urge him on, it was left to the 'cultivated' imagination of one,
who aspired to be thought an architect and man of taste, to set
himself up as a rival in the detestable business of spoliation, and
scarce any escaped him from the Founder downward, for Bishop Poore was
meted out the same fate, impartially as others.

Emerging from under the modern brass screen that separates the choir
from the nave, slowly we pass down the south aisle. There, is the
beautiful effigy of William Longspée, the first Earl of Sarum, son of
Henry II. and fair Rosamond, reclining on his glorious tomb, once
covered with exquisite mosaic work, the embossed lions on his
enamelled shield, chafing at the indignity of their master having been
ousted from his olden station of honour in the Lady Chapel,--Bishop de
la Wyle the founder of St. Edmund's Collegiate Church in this city at
the close of the thirteenth century,--the tomb of the unfortunate Lord
Stourton of murderer's fame and silken halter,--the martial
proportions of the second Lord Hungerford, brought hither from the
demolished Chantry erected by his wife the last Bottreaux, on the
north side of the retro-choir,--next, the tomb of Bishop Beauchamp,
the "Wykeham of his age" (for he superintended the building of St.
George's Chapel at Windsor Castle), taken from his beautiful Chantry,
that once had place opposite to Lady Hungerford's; and following him,
the interesting effigies of two other early and distinguished Bishops,
Roger, and Joceline, A.D. 1184, and brought from old Sarum! The face
of Bishop Joceline, although so old and denuded, still exhibits the
marvellous placidity of sleep, all the more so from the partial
effacement of the features, but displaying an effect no modern
sculpture could imitate.

But he whom we seek is not found among this long succession of
departed greatness, and we carefully proceed with our investigation up
the north aisle.

Here the first we meet with, is the unique and mysterious "Boy
Bishop,"--lying at length and much denuded beneath his protective iron
grating. Then we pass two "unappropriated" tombs, and next a mail-clad
effigy said to be William Longspée, second Earl of Salisbury, son of
the William on the other side,--then a fine figure of a knight in
bascinet and surcoat, John de Montacute, with fortunately a
considerable portion of the original tomb below him. Whom does this
desolate-looking pair of brassless stones, side by side record, with
indent of man and wife still apparent on them? Ah! the emblem powdered
on the stone,--the _harvest sickle_,--unravels their story, and a
feeling of sadness pervades us, as we recognize in them the memorials
that once covered the dust of Walter, the first Lord Hungerford--father
of Robert on the opposite side--and Katharine Peverel his wife, shifted
here about a century since, as an inscription on them informs us, "by
Jacob C. Radnor," when he removed the beautiful iron-work Chantry in
which they originally had appropriate place, and carried it away to the
east end of the choir to do duty as a 'family pew.'

There is but one more effigy, you say,--as we turn from this last
memorial of the long sequence of departed and 'translated'
worthies--and that must be him whom we seek. A glance at the tall
armoured figure immediately assures us that he is found, Sir John
Cheney, Baron of that name; and a stout adherent of the first Tudor
sovereign, Henry VII.

The family of Cheney, as we have previously noted,[26] was a wide
spreading one in the south of England, and, according to Burke,
derived their descent from a common ancestor, Ralph de Caineto, who
came to England with the Conqueror.

[26] See page 4.

Sir John, of the monument before us, was of Kentish extraction.
William, the son of Sir Alexander Cheney, married Margaret, daughter
and heir of Sir Robert de Shurland, of Shurland in the parish of
Eastchurch, in the Isle of Sheppey. He died 8 Edward III., 1333,
leaving issue Robert, who left issue Sir Richard of Shurland, who
married Elizabeth, daughter of Robert Cralle, of Cralle, Sussex, by
whom he left two sons, William of Shurland, and Richard of Cralle.

Sir William Cheney of Shurland, Sheriff of Kent, 13 Henry IV.,
1412,--1 Henry V., 1414,--2 Henry VI., 1424, Knight of the Shire for
Kent, 3 Henry V., 1418, died 21 Henry VI., 1443, and was buried with
Margaret his wife in St. Benet's church, Paul's Wharf, London.

He was succeeded by his son Sir John, Knight of the Shire for Kent, 27
Henry VI., 1449, and Sheriff 33 Henry VI., 1455. He married Eleanor,
daughter and coheiress of Sir Robert de Shottisbroke, knt., and sister
to Margaret, Duchess of Somerset. There were two sons, John and
William.

Sir William, second son, was Sheriff of Kent 7 Edward IV., 1467, and I
Henry VII., 1486, was appointed Constable of Queenborough Castle, the
same year. He was twice married; by his first wife had one son, Sir
Francis Cheney, who succeeded his father as Constable of Queenborough
Castle, and died without issue; and by his second wife one son,
Thomas, who became his uncle John's heir. (Hasted.)

Sir John Cheney, the eldest son, of Shurland, is the subject of our
narrative. He appears to be the first of this numerous and influential
race that reached the honour of the peerage.[27]

[27] Sir William Cheney, Chief Justice of England, had summons to
Parliament among the barons of the realm,--4, 5 and 6 Henry VI.,
1426-8. (Hasted.) Query if the Sir William who died 1443. His
name does not appear among the extinct peerages. In the church of
"Saint Michaels Pater-noster in the old Royall," Weever notes the
following inscription:--"_Prey of yowr cherete for the souls of
Agnes Cheyney, wydow, late wyff vnto William Cheney, somtym
Esquyr for the Body vnto King Harry the seuenth. Whyche Agnes
dyed the fyfteenth day of July in the yere of our Lord God on
thowsand four hundred eyghty and seven. And for the souls of
William Cheyney, Robert Molyneux, and Robert Sheryngton her
husbands, and all Cristen souls._"

We first hear of him in 1465, when he was one of the Commissioners
sent to treat with the King of Denmark, accompanied by Dr. Goldwell,
Dean of Salisbury. He is here called "_strenuus miles_," probably from
his great stature and strength.

In 1475, where he is termed Esquire of the King's body, with a retinue
of seven men at arms, including himself, he accompanied the English
army to Calais, in the expedition to France by Edward IV., when that
king was first deceived and then out-manoeuvred by the Dukes of
Brittany and Burgundy, and afterward bought off from all his martial
intentions by the French king Louis XI., promising to pay him
seventy-two thousand crowns down, and a yearly pension of fifty
thousand crowns for life,--marry his son the Dauphin to Edward's
daughter Elizabeth (afterward wife to Henry VII.), and a further sum
of fifty thousand crowns as a ransom for the release of the widowed
Queen Margaret. Louis, remembering Crecy and Agincourt, was
exceedingly anxious to see the backs of the English turned on France,
and besides all this money, or the promise of it, sent to Edward
"three hundred waggon loads of wine," and further cartloads for the
use of his army; and "at length the French king's fears vanished with
the departure of the English, who went away extremely pleased with the
French gold and wine, while the pensions assigned to Edward's
principal courtiers amounted to sixteen thousand crowns a year."

Among the "principal courtiers" who were recipients of this inglorious
spoil, Sir John Cheney's name is given as one, and associated with him
were Thomas Grey, Marquis of Dorset, William, Lord Hastings, his
wife's father-in-law, the King's Chamberlain, and Dr. Thomas Morton,
born at Bere-Regis, in Dorset,--then Master of the Rolls, and
afterward Cardinal and Archbishop of Canterbury; all west-country
names of great interest connected with our little annals. It was
however stipulated by his French majesty, after seeing Edward, and
swearing the treaty, that John, Lord Howard, and Sir John Cheney,
Master of the Horse, should be left as hostages, until the King of
England (after receiving the seventy-two thousand crowns) had passed
the seas with his army. Edward, after receiving the money, embarked
his forces with all expedition, and Howard and Cheney remained until
his arrival in England, during which interval they were entertained
"very nobly" by the French king.

We do not find him further mentioned during the reign of Edward IV.,
or the short rule of his unfortunate son, but soon after the
usurpation of Richard III., he was among those who gave his adhesion
to the Countess of Richmond (mother of Henry VII.) being won over to
the interest of her son by her trusty envoy, Sir Reginald Braye, and
with him was Sir Giles Daubeney, and other influential men.

This being so, in due time, which occurred almost immediately, in 1483
he joined in the movement--so unfortunate as it turned out--of Henry
Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, and was associated with the Courtenays,
the Marquis of Dorset, and others forming the western contingent,
being in arms against the king, near Salisbury. On the dispersion of
Buckingham's followers through the Severn inundation, Sir John Cheney
and his companions made their escape safely across to France, where
they joined the Earl of Richmond. His name was included in the
Proclamation issued against the insurgent fugitives by Richard, with
rewards offered therein proportionate to their station, on
apprehension.

It is probable Sir John remained with, or near Richmond, in France,
until his final expedition to England, in which he doubtless
accompanied him, and on landing, proceeded with the Earl's army on
their march through Wales to Bosworth.[28]

This memorable engagement which took place on the 22nd of August 1484,
has been ably described by many pens, and its incidents, beyond those
having reference directly to our story, need not be

[28] Among the "Knightes made at the landinge of Kinge Henry the
Seventh at Mylforde Haven," fourth on the list occurs Sir John
Cheney. His arms are thus given,--Quarterly 1 and 4, _Azure, six
lioncels rampant argent, a canton ermine; 2 and 3, Ermine, a chief
per pale indented or and gules, in the dexter side a rose of the
last_ (SHOTISBROOKE). Crest, _Two bull's horns argent, separated
from the scalp, roots or, "fixed to the mantels without torce_."
(Metcalfe's _Book of Knights_.) recapitulated here. Our hero has
special traditional fame connected with the fray, if not of the
most fortunate kind, as will be seen.

In addition to the stream of deserters from his own army to that of
his rivals, which met Richard's eyes on that eventful day, the
defection of Lord Stanley, a misfortune of the first magnitude,
assured Richard that no time was to be lost, if he hoped to save his
crown. So, gathering a muster of as many as remained true to him, he
made a direct and magnificent charge into the centre of his foes'
line, striving gallantly to recover his fortune. Leading them in
person, he fought his way directly to his adversary's standard, and
"in his furie he manfully overthrew Sir William Brandon, the Earle's
Standard-bearer, and Sir John Cheney, both men of mightie force and
knowne valiancie," and he nearly reached Richmond himself. Hollingshed
thus describes it,--

"King Richard set on so sharplie at the first brunt, that he
ouerthrew the Erles standard, and slue Sir William Brandon, his
standard bearer, (which was father to Sir Charles Brandon by King
Henrie the eight created Duke of Suffolk,) and matched hand to
hand with Sir John Cheinie, a man of great force and strength,
which would haue resisted him, but the said John was by him
manfullie ouerthrowen. And so he making open passage by dint of
sword as he went forward, the Earle of Richmond withstood his
violence, and kept him at the sword's point without aduantage,
longer than either his companions thought or judged, which being
almost in despair of victorie, were suddenly recomforted by Sir
William Stanlie, which came to his soccour with three thousand
tall men. At which verie instant King Richard's men were driven
back and fled, and he himself manfullie fighting in the middle of
his enemies was slaine."

The old chronicler, as a matter of course, pays Richmond the
compliment of his "keeping him at the sword's point without
advantage," but other accounts relate that the Earl was in no hurry to
cross weapons with his redoubtable and now desperate antagonist, and
was doubtless greatly "recomforted" at Stanley's opportune defection,
with his "soccour of three thousand tall men."

That Richmond had a narrow escape is evident, Sir William Brandon his
Standard-Bearer, was killed, and Sir John Cheney, giant in stature as
he was, was unhorsed--"manfully overthrown"--by the comparatively
diminutive, deformed King himself. Then a swarm of assailants closed
round Richard, and he was hurled to the earth, and remorselessly
despatched with many wounds.

Whatever may be said of Richard as to the degrading characteristics of
his previous career, one thing stands out in strong relief, his
undoubted courage, which on this decisive occasion was of the highest
order, and claims its full meed of admiration, especially considering
the disadvantages of his person, and he closed his life with the fate
of a hero.

Simultaneously with Richard's death, if it was not its actual cause,
Sir William Stanley following the example of his brother, just at that
juncture crossed over with his forces to Richmond's side, which
virtually decided the combat, and the battle was ended. The grateful
Henry requited Stanley's inestimable service, thus so opportunely
given, by putting him to death a few years later, on a very
questionable and frivolous charge.

The naked, bloody, dirt-begrimed corpse of the last King of the White
Rose, having been picked out from amongst the slain, was thrown
contemptuously over the back of a horse,--"like a calf,"--head hanging
down on one side and legs on the other, behind a pursuivant of arms
called _Blanc Sanglier_, being the officer called after Richard's own
badge, the _White Boar_, or _Boar argent_, doubtless so done in
derision, and sent off to Leicester, and the battered, blood-stained
helmet-crown of the Plantagenet usurper was lifted from the mud and
placed upon the head of the Tudor invader.

But had fortune favoured Richard a little further, so that he could
have got within weapon's length of his adversary, the untoward fate
that befell him, may have been Richmond's instead, and a different
chapter altogether substituted as to the future sovereignty of
England.

In common with the associates of conquerors, the adherents of the
first Tudor king got their due proportion of rewards and honours at
his hands, and Sir John Cheney was not forgotten.

The first distinction he received was conferred a short time before
Henry's coronation, which took place in October, 1485. Three of the
king's highest adherents received patents of nobility, and twelve
others were created Knights-Banneret; among these Sir John Cheney
stood second on the list. He was also soon after created a Knight of
the Garter, being the two hundred and thirty-seventh in the
succession, and Dodsworth says, "it was on St. George's Day preceding
the coronation, and that he sat at the first table in the right aisle
of St. George's Hall, Windsor." At the end of the first Parliament,
toward the end of the year, the king called him to his Privy Council.

But the most considerable honour yet awaited him, which took place in
1487, when by writ of summons dated the first of September in that
year he was raised to the dignity of a Baron, and summoned to
Parliament as such from that period to the 14 October, 1495. He held
the office also of Royal Standard-Bearer to Henry VII.

In 1487, John de la Pole, Earl of Lincoln, "a man of talents and
enterprise, nephew to Edward IV., Richard III., and Margaret, widow of
Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy," Henry's uncompromising and
implacable enemy, accompanied by Francis, Viscount Lovel (who had been
Lord Chamberlain to Richard III.) Fitz-Gerald, Earl of Kildare, the
redoubtable Martin Swartz, with a large contingent of veteran Germans,
and Irish, having crossed over from Ireland, landed on the fourth of
June at Fourdrey in Furness in Lancashire. There they were joined by
Sir Thomas Broughton, and the English adherents, and with this motley
army was Lambert Simnel, and his tutor Richard Simons the Oxford
priest; they marched into Yorkshire, and thence bent southward to
Newark. Henry had assembled as numerous an army as he could muster and
marched to Nottingham, but was not in sufficient force to give his
antagonists battle. There he was reinforced by the Earl of Derby and a
body of troops, and also by Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, Lord Strange,
Sir John Cheney, "and other knights and gentlemen at least three
score," bringing with them large additional forces. The king succeeded
in occupying Newark before the Earl of Lincoln could reach it, and
advanced to East-Stoke, about three miles south of Newark. Here the
determined battle of Stoke took place on the sixteenth of June; the
Germans fought with great determination, but the Earl's forces were
totally routed and all their leaders, except Lord Lovel, slain,
fighting to the last sword in hand.

Lord Lovel is reported to have escaped, and his fate has been
enshrined in a halo of romance. By some he is said to have been killed
in the battle, by others "that he fled and swam over the Trent on
horseback, but could not recover on account of the steepness of the
bank, and so was drowned in the river." But there is also this
remarkable story of his disappearance,--

"On the 6th of May, 1728, the present Duke of Rutland, related in
my hearing, that about twenty years there before, in 1708, upon
occasion of new laying a chimney, at Minster Lovel, there was
discovered a large vault or room under ground, in which was the
entire skeleton of a man, as having been sitting at a table,
which was before him, with a book, paper, pen, &c., &c., in
another part of the room lay a cap all much mouldered and
decayed. Which the family judged to be this Lord Lovel, whose
exit, has hitherto been so uncertain." (Banks.) While another
account adds, "that the clothing of the body, seemed to have been
rich; that it was seated in a chair, with a table and mass-book
before it; and also that, upon the admission of the air, the body
soon fell to dust." (Gough.)

Previous to the battle another honour was conferred on him,--for among
the "Banerettes made by the Kinge at the batell of Stoke besydes
Newarke-upon-Trent the IX. day of June Anno Sec'do, whereof the first
three wer made before the batell,"--the second name occurring is that
of Sir John Cheney. (Metcalfe.)

In 1488 Sir John "received orders with other persons in Hampshire to
levy archers for the relief of Brittany then threatened by the
French," and in 1492 appears to have accompanied Henry's grand
expedition to France, the flotilla being under the command of Lord
Willoughby de Broke, as Admiral of the Fleet, and with Lord Daubeney
as one of the principal commanders and ambassadors.

Here again money, and not the sword, decided the fortune of war, and
it is curious, that one of the articles of this treaty of Etaples
should be, that "the king of France (Charles VIII.) should pay the
king of England the arrears of the yearly pension of fifty thousand
crowns paid by Louis XI. to Edward IV., amounting in all to one
hundred and twenty-five thousand crowns, which is twenty-five thousand
pounds sterling."

This was the payment of the old debt contracted by the French king in
1475, to Edward IV., who was also to have the English king's daughter
Elizabeth for his wife. Now, however, Henry was married to the lady
instead, but he did not forget, when opportunity offered, to press for
the arrears of the pension, due to her late father. Sir John Cheney
was credited with getting a little plunder out of the first
transaction in 1475, and it is probable that he did not come
empty-handed out of this, the second, although he does not seem to
have been one of the English ambassadors chosen to meet the astute
Marshal d'Esquerdes.

No further record appears of Lord Cheney's services, and he died
without issue in 1496, when the title became extinct. He devised his
estates to his nephew Sir Thomas Cheney, of Toddington, Bedfordshire.

Lord Cheney "was the friend, if not the relation of Bishop Beauchamp,
for he was appointed one of his executors, and was buried in the
Chapel erected by that prelate, in Salisbury Cathedral" (Dodsworth).
He now lies under the first arch from the choir, in the north aisle of
the nave. The Chapel of this prelate as it appeared before its
destruction by Wyatt is thus described in Sir R. C. Hoare's _Modern
Wiltshire_,--

"The Beauchamp Chapel as a specimen of art, was in every respect
worthy of the builder of the Collegiate Chapel of St. George at
Windsor. It was larger than that of Lord Hungerford, and
displayed the elaborate and richly ornamented style of the age.
It was lighted by three windows to the south, with buttresses
between, and a large window at the east end, and was finished
with an embattled parapet. The remains of the prelate reposed
under a plain marble tomb in the centre, and in the wall on the
north side, separating it from the Lady Chapel, beneath canopies
of exquisite tabernacle work, were those of his father and
mother. An altar tomb in the south-west corner, surmounted also
with a florid canopy covered those of Sir John Cheyney, his
friend, and one of his executors. The Chapel was divided into two
compartments, by an arch, on which were the armorial bearings of
the Founder. Round the wall ran a cornice of delicately wrought
fan-work and foliage, and the ceiling of carved oak, assimilated
perfectly with the rest of the edifice."

Some portions of this "delicately wrought fan-work" is still to be
seen among the _debris_ of sculpture remaining in the cloisters.
Bishop Beauchamp was younger son of Walter Beauchamp (younger son of
John, Lord Beauchamp of Powyke), by Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John
Roche, and brother to William Beauchamp, Lord St. Amand. He is
supposed to have been the first Chancellor of the Order of the Garter,
was consecrated Bishop of Salisbury in 1450, afterward translated to
Hereford; and died 1481.

The effigy of John, Lord Cheney, sculptured in alabaster, is of large
size, and the costume is of most interesting military character. He
appears clad in complete plate armour, with skirt and collar of mail,
and armed with sword and miséricorde. The Garter is around the left
leg, and he wears a large dependant collar of S.S., from which hangs,
instead of the usual figure of St. George and the Dragon, an unique
Tudor jewel, or badge, formed of a Portcullis, on which is
super-imposed a Double Rose. Over the armour is the robe or mantle of
the Order, fastened across the chest with cordon and tassels. On the
left shoulder is embroidered the Garter. The head is bare, and the
hair parted in the centre of the forehead, descends in large waves to
the shoulders. The fingers and thumbs of both hands are adorned with
rings, the feet rest on a lion, and behind the sole of the left foot
is sculptured an oak leaf, on the right is apparently a scroll. Angels
support the head.

The structure on which the effigy reclines is composed probably of no
portion of the original tomb. It partly consists of traceried panels
of Purbeck marble, having shields in their centres, on which were
formerly brasses.

As has been observed, Lord Cheney was interred in the beautiful
Chantry of his friend, Bishop Richard Beauchamp, which was situate on
the north side of the Lady Chapel, opposite Lady Hungerford's. The
Bishop, who died in 1481, was also buried within it, and according to
Leland, with his father and mother on either side of him "in marble
tumbes." Wyatt demolished the Chantry, and removed both Bishop and
Knight to the nave, and during the confusion of the desecration, the
Bishop's tomb appears to have been lost or mislaid, his bones now rest
in some one else's, taken from one of the transepts, wherein no
remains at all were found. The Knight's tomb, probably formed of
Purbeck marble, was too far gone with decay to bear 'translation.'

"In the last repairs," says Dodsworth, "the effigy (Sir J. Cheney's)
was removed, and as the original tomb was totally decayed, the present
base was formed from part of the ornaments that belonged to the
Beauchamp Chapel. His skeleton was found entire, and justified the
fame of his extraordinary stature and strength. The thigh bone
measured above twenty-one inches, or near four inches longer than the
natural size. These bones were enclosed in a box, and entrusted to the
care of the writer, until the tomb was replaced, when they were
deposited within, and the name of the deceased, with the date of the
removal, inscribed on the cover." The act of a true and reverential
man.

The substituted tomb of Sir John Cheney's friend the Bishop, is on the
other side of the nave.

The arms of Cheney (of Shurland) are recorded as, _Argent, on a bend
sable, three martlets or_, quartering, _Azure, five lioncels argent, a
canton ermine_,--or according to another authority, _Azure, six
lioncels, three, two, one, argent_ (SHURLAND). No arms are visible at
Salisbury.

At the death of Lord Cheney, his property devolved to his nephew and
heir, Sir Thomas Cheney, son of his brother Sir William Cheney.

The scene of our little history now shifts from the broad chalk downs
of south Wilts, to the kindred chalk measures of south-west
Bedfordshire, and for a short time intermediately to northern Kent,
the original seat of the family of Cheney.

Sir Thomas Cheney, nephew and heir of John, Lord Cheney, K.G., married
first Frideswide, daughter and coheiress of Sir Thomas Frowyke, knt.,
Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas. By her he had three
daughters: Catherine married to Thomas Kemp, Esq., of Glendich, Kent;
Frances, to Nicholas Crips, Esq., son and heir of Sir Henry Crips,
knt.; Anne, to Sir John Perrot, knt.; and Margaret, to George Nevill,
Lord Abergavenny. (Burke.)

Secondly, he married Anne, daughter and coheiress of Sir John
Broughton, knight, of Toddington, Bedfordshire, by his wife Mary
daughter and heiress of Thomas Peyvre, lord of the manor of
Toddington, by whom he acquired the estate. By her he had one son
Henry (afterward Lord Cheney), his successor.

Sir Thomas is described as having been "a person of great gallantry
and note in the reign of Henry VIII., accompanied that monarch to the
field of the Cloth of Gold, where he was one of the challengers
against all gentlemen, who were to exercise feats of arms on horseback
or on foot for thirty days."

He was created by Henry VIII. Knight of the Garter, Warden of the
Cinque Ports, and Treasurer of the Household. Upon the death of Edward
VI., he espoused the interests of Queen Mary, and was called to the
Privy Council by Queen Elizabeth in the first year of her reign, which
same year he died, 1558-9, and was buried at Minster in Kent.

Hasted (_History of Kent_) has the following notice of this Knight,--

"Sir Thomas Cheney was a man of great account in his time; 7
Henry VII., he was Sheriff of this county, and served in
Parliament for it 6 Edward VI., and 1, 2, and 5, Queen Mary. He
was elected a Knight of the Garter in the reign of Henry VIII.,
by whom he was appointed Constable of Queenborough Castle,
Governor of Rochester, Warden of the Five Ports, and Treasurer of
the Household, in which office he continued in the next reign of
K. Edward VI., of whose Privy Council he was one, and at his
death, espousing the cause of Queen Mary, he was again made
Warden of the Five Ports. Queen Elizabeth continued him Treasurer
of her Household, and made him of her Privy Council. He resided
at Shurland, the mansion of which he had new built, with great
hospitality and sumptuous housekeeping, till the time of his
death, which happened in the Tower on Dec. 8, in the first year
of that reign, and was buried with great pomp and magnificence in
a small chapel adjoining the parish church of Minster in the Isle
of Sheppey. He had been twice married, first to Fridwith,
daughter and heir of Sir Thomas Frowike, Lord Chief Justice of
England, by whom he had issue one son John, married to Margaret,
daughter of George Nevill, Lord Abergavenny, and three daughters
at length his coheirs, Katherine married to Sir Thomas Kempe,
knt., Frances to Nicholas Crispe, Esq., and Anne to Sir John
Perrott, knt. His second wife was Anne daughter and coheir of Sir
John Broughton of Toddington, in the county of Bedford, knt., by
whom he had an only son Henry, who became his heir.

"He was buried in great state in a chapel which had been the
Conventual church, adjoining to the north-east part of the parish
church of Minster, but his son Henry, Lord Cheney, having on 22
October, 1581, anno 24 Elizabeth, obtained a license to remove
the coffins and bones of his father and ancestors from thence, he
having sold the materials of the said chapel to Sir Humphrey
Gilbert, and placed them in the parish church, the coffin of his
father was, among others removed, and deposited in the north
chancel of it where a handsome monument was erected over him."

Sir Henry Cheney, knt., his only son and heir, was of Toddington. He
married Jane, daughter of Thomas Wentworth of Nettlested, Suffolk,
created Baron Wentworth in 1529, and Lord Chamberlain of the Household
to Edward VI.; by his wife Margaret, daughter of Sir Andrew Fortescue,
knt.

Sir Henry was created by Queen Elizabeth BARON CHENEY OF TODDINGTON,
by Writ of Summons dated 6 May, 1572, and had summons to Parliament
from 8 May, 1572, to 15 October, 1586.

Hasted, speaking of this nobleman and his Kentish possessions,
narrates,--

"Henry Cheney, Esqr., succeeded his father at Shurland, among his
other Estates in this County, and in the third year of Queen
Elizabeth he had livery of it with the rest of his inheritance;
in the fifth year of it, he kept his Shrievalty for this County
at his seat, in which year he was knighted, in the fourteenth
year of that reign he was created Lord Cheney of Toddington in
the County of Bedford. By his expensive method of living he
acquired the name of "_the extravagant Lord Cheney_," and before
his death had dissipated the great possessions which his father
had left him and died without issue 30 Elizabeth, anno 1587.
However, long before his death, having removed to Toddington,
where he had built a most magnificent seat, he exchanged the
manor and seat of Shurland, with other estates in the
neighbourhood of it, with the Queen, and the fee of it remained
in the hands of the Crown, till King James I., in his second year
granted it to Philip Herbert, younger brother of William, Earl of
Pembroke, who the next year was created Lord Herbert of Shurland,
and Earl of Montgomery. Sir Thomas Cheney--his father--seems to
have had some foreknowledge of his son's future extravagance, for
by his last will he devised his lands and manors to his son Henry
and the heirs of his body, remainder to Thomas Cheney of Woodley,
Esqr., and to the heirs male of his body, upon condition, that he
or they or any of them should not alien or discontinue.

"Henry, Lord Cheney was possessed of much land in this parish,
which with all the rest of his estates, through his profuse
manner of living he was obliged to alienate from time to time.

"The Cheneys bore for their arms, _Argent, on a bend sable, three
mullets or_, which coat on their marrying the heiress of
Shurland, they bore in the second place. But the Lord Cheney bore
his own coat in the first place, and that of Shurland second, and
afterwards those of Shottesbroke, Broughton, Beard, Foster,
Pevre, Loring, Beaple, Blaine, Manseck, Perrott, Hemgrave,
Stonham, Burgat, Barneck, Neame, Engaine, Dawbney, Denston, and
Wanston. For his supporters, _Two Thoyes vert, spotted gules and
or, collared and chained or_. Sir Thomas Cheney bore for his
crest, _on a wreath argent and vert, two horns of a bull argent
on the curled scalp or_;--but the Lord Cheney changed it to '_a
Thoye passant, collared with a ducal collar or_. Arms of
Shurland, _Azure, five lions rampant argent, a canton ermine_,
which arms are on the roof of the cloisters of Canterbury
Cathedral.'"

Lord Cheney was one of the peers who sat on the trial of Mary, Queen
of Scots. He died without issue in 1587, leaving the whole of his
remaining property to his widow. He erected a magnificent seat at
Toddington, concerning which Lysons adds,--

"Lord Cheney built a noble mansion at Toddington, about half a
mile from the church, of which nothing now remains but the
kitchen, which is remarkably spacious, having two fireplaces,
each twelve feet in width, and a few rooms fitted up as a farm
house. The greater part of the building was pulled down by the
Earl of Strafford about the year 1745. It appears by an antient
plan of the house (in 1802 on a fire-screen at the farm) that it
occupied four sides of a quadrangle, at each corner of which was
a turret; the north and south fronts were two hundred and ten
feet in length, the chapel was thirty feet by twenty-four, the
tennis court was sixty-five feet in length, and a marble gallery,
fifty-eight."

Thus this fine edifice shared the fate of its predecessor erected by
the Peyvres, from whom, through Broughton who married their heiress,
Lord Cheney inherited the manor of Toddington, by marrying the heiress
of Broughton.

From the dismantled earthly home of the extinct Cheneys to the final
one appointed for all, is but the natural sequence of this world's
history of human life. The olden possessors of Toddington,
successively Peyvre, Broughton, and Cheney, are all gathered together
in death, in the south transept of the church. Of them, and the fate
of their memorials, a few words.

The Peyvres were an antient family, holding the manor of Toddington,
as early as the reign of Henry III. Paulinus Peyvre, Steward of the
Household to Henry III., was, says Lysons,--

"a man of mean origin, and when he went to Court, was not
possessed of two carucates of land; but by means lawful and
unlawful, (as Matthew Paris observes) acquired such wealth, that
he soon became possessed of five hundred carucates; a most
insatiable purchaser of lands (says the historian) and a most
incomparable builder. Not to speak of those in other places, his
house at Toddington was like a palace, with a chapel, chambers,
and other buildings, covered with lead, which raised the
admiration of all beholders. His workmen are said to have
received a hundred shillings, and more than ten marks for their
wages."

So much for the grandeur of Paulinus Peyvre's mansion, and then the
same authority significantly adds,--

"The site of this noble mansion is not known. Near the church at
Toddington is a mount called Conger Hill, which seems to have
been the keep of a castellated mansion, and there are
considerable earthworks near it. This might have been the site of
Sir Paulinus Peyvre's mansion. This favourite of fortune died in
1251."

Thus perished the mansion of the Peyvres, and it is curious to
reflect, a like fate awaited the noble building erected by their
successors the Cheneys. It was Mary, daughter of Thomas Peyvre, sixth
in descent from Sir Paulinus, that brought the property to her husband
Sir John Broughton, and his daughter and coheir Anne to Sir Thomas
Cheney.

The Peyvres are buried in the south transept of Toddington church,
which was antiently a Chantry, as there is a piscina in the south-east
corner.

Continuing his description, Lysons (writing in 1806) thus speaks of
the then shameful condition of the transepts and monuments of this
fine old church,--

"In the south transept are some antient monuments of the Peyvres
as appears by their arms: one of them was a crusader. In the same
transept are monuments of Anne, wife of Sir Thomas Cheney,
K.G.--1561,--Henry Lord Cheney, 1587,--and his widow, Jane Lady
Cheney, 1614. On each of these were the effigies of the deceased,
now much mutilated lying on the ground, mingled with the broken
ornaments of the tombs, and the dung of birds and bats. The north
transept which was the burial place of the Wentworths is not in a
much better condition. The costly monument of Henrietta, Lady
Wentworth, the Duke of Monmouth's mistress, who died in 1686, on
which her mother who survived her ten years, directed the large
sum of two thousand pounds to be expended, and another monument
which appears to have been no less costly in memory of Lady Maria
Wentworth, who died at the premature age of eighteen, in 1632,
are in a state little better than those of the Cheneys. The
windows of the aisle being without glass, and the roof much
decayed, they are daily receiving much injury, by being exposed,
to the ravages of the weather, and the depredations of children."

Notwithstanding the damage the Cheney monuments have sustained through
this miserable neglect (they were buried in the same transept) the
interesting memorials of the Peyvres have not suffered quite so badly.
There are three effigies to them, and the indents on some brassless
stones in the floor. One figure is a crusader, he is considerably
mutilated, was originally a very fine example, on his shield are
sculptured the arms of Peyvre,--_On a chevron, three fleurs-de-lys_.
Under monumental arches in the south wall are, singly, two
well-preserved and most interesting effigies. The knight in chain and
plate armour, with bascinet. He wears a rich baudrick, and his surcoat
is embroidered with the arms of Peyvre. A lion is at his feet, and
angels support the head, holding with one hand an inscribed label
which passes across the neck of the effigy under the chin, an unusual
arrangement. The lady is in long robes, with rich reticulated
head-dress. These figures being sheltered by the arches over them,
have not suffered so much by exposure to the weather as did the
unprotected effigies of the Cheneys.

It should be mentioned that the transepts have of late for a long
period been roofed and restored, and the remains of the monuments
carefully got together and looked after.

Sir Thomas Cheney, K.G., who married Anne Broughton of Toddington,
appears to have been buried as before mentioned in Minster church, in
the Isle of Sheppey, Kent, where he held the manor of Shurland, as
descendant of that family.

In Minster church, says Weever,--

"I saw some antique monuments of the _Shurlands_, sometime lords
of the mannor of Shurland, hereunto adioyning: of whom the
inhabitants have many strange relations. Sir _Robert Shurland_
flourished in the raigne of King _Edward_ the first."

He then gives the following inscription,--

HIC IACET DOMINUS THOMAS CHEYNE INCLITISSIMI ORDINIS GARTERIJ
MILES: GUARDIANUS QUINQUE PORTUUM, AC THESAURARIUS HOSPITIJ,
HENRICI OCTAVI, AC EDWARDI SEXTI, REGUM: REGINÆQUE MARIÆ, AC
ELIZABETHÆ, AC EORUM IN SECRETIS CONSILIARIUS, QUI OBIJT ...
MENSIS DECEMBRIS: ANN. DOM. M.D.LIX. AC REG. REGINÆ ELISAB.
PRIMO.

and continues,--

"This Sir _Thomas Cheyne_ was also Constable of Queene-Borough
Castle, a strong fortresse in this Isle, pleasant for sight,
built by King _Edward_ the third; to the terrour of his enemies,
and solace of his people; unto which he adioyned a Burgh, and in
honour of _Philip_ the Queene his wife, called it Queene-Borough,
or as one would say the Queenes Burgh. This hath been an office
ever thought worthy of many great personages."

Among these "great personages" three of the Cheneys followed each
other as Constables,--Sir William, as thirteenth; Sir Francis, as
fourteenth; and Sir Thomas aforesaid, as fifteenth, in their
succession.

The three effigies of the Cheneys in the south transept, formerly a
Chantry of Toddington church, are ranged facing the east wall, on the
site of the antient altar. The remaining portions of the tombs have
been built together to the shape of the originals, as near as may be,
and the mutilated figures laid on them.

The first of the series from the south wall is Dame Anne Cheney, wife
of Sir Thomas Cheney, K.G., buried at Minster, and daughter of Sir
John Broughton. She survived her husband two years, and was buried at
Toddington.

The effigy, of white stone, is greatly denuded,--she wears a
close-fitting cap, small ruff, long gown buttoned down in front,
collar edged with fur, full sleeves puffed and slashed at the
shoulders. The head rests on two embroidered cushions, the hands are
raised in prayer.

Underneath, on each side are three panels, in one is a crest,
apparently _a squirrel sejant cracking a nut_ (BROUGHTON?)--the others
have blank matrices of shields, surrounded by scroll-work. The brass
shields which originally covered them are gone.

Around the cornice of the tomb is this inscription,--

HERE LYETH DAME ANNE CHEYNE DAVGHTER AND HEYRE OF S^R. JOHN
BROVGHTON KNIGHT MARRYED TO S^R. THOMAS CHEYNE KNIGHT L^O. WARDEN
OF THE CINQ PORTES TREASOROR OF HER MAIESTIES HOVSHOLD OF THE
ORDER OF THE GARTER AND ONE OF HER MAIESTIES PRIVIE COVNSELL WHO
HAD BVT ONE ONLY CHYLDE THE SAME BEING THE LORD HENRY CHEYNE AND
SHE DYED THE 16 DAIE OF MAIE THE THYRD YEARE OF Q ELIZABETH HER
RAIGNE ANNO D'NI 1561.

On the panel at the end of the tomb is an escutcheon with these
arms,--Quarterly of fifteen:--1. _A chevron between three mullets_
(BROUGHTON).--2. _Three moor's heads._--3. _A chevron between three
bird-bolts._--4. _On a chevron, three fleurs-de-lys_ (PEYVRE).--5.
_Quarterly, over all a bend._--6. _Quarterly per fess indented._--7.
_A bend vaire between six escallops._--8. _A saltire engrailed._--9.
_On a cross, five escallops._--10. _Paly of six._--11. _A
barnacle._--12. _A fess dancetté between six cross-crosslets._--13. _A
cross engrailed._--14. _Two lions passant guardant._--15. _On a
chevron, a fleur-de-lys._

The next tomb in the succession is that of Sir Henry Cheney, son of
the foregoing, created Baron Cheney of Toddington, 6 May, 1572.[29]

[29] "SR HENRY CHEYNY, now LORDE CHEYNY, called by wrytte to the
Parlement holden at Westmr. anno ... (knighted by the Queen's own
hand 1563.) Arms, quarterly of seventeen:--1. _Azure, six
lioncels rampant, three and three, argent, a canton ermine_
(CHENEY).--2. _Ermine, on the dexter side of a chief, per pale
indented or and gules, a rose of the last._--3. _Argent, a
chevron between three mullets gules._--4. _Argent, three
blackamoors' faces sable._--5. _Sable, a chevron ermine, between
three bird-bolts argent._--6. _Argent, on a chevron gules, three
fleurs-de-lys or_ (PEYVRE).--7. _Quarterly argent and gules, a
bend of the second._--8. _Quarterly per fess indented or and
azure._--9. _Gules, a bend vaire, between six escallops or._--10.
_Sable, a saltire engrailed argent._--11. _Argent, on a cross
azure, five escallops or._--12. _Barry of six argent and
sable._--13. _Argent, a horse-barnacle sable._--14. _Gules, a
fess dancetté between six cross-crosslets or._--15. _Or, a cross
engrailed vert._-16. _Azure, two lions passant guardant in pale
or._--17. _Argent, on a chevron sable, a fleur-de-lys of the
field._ CREST:--_An heraldic tiger statant vert bezanté, ducally
gorged and lined or._" (METCALFE'S _Book of Knights_.)

This tomb and effigy is by far the most mutilated of the three. The
portion of the tomb immediately under the figure appears to have had
originally the form of a sarcophagus, with ornamented panels probably
below.

Of the effigy only the upper part remains, and this is very much
denuded and weather-worn. The material used is alabaster, and from the
few traces left of the more sheltered portions, was originally of very
beautiful workmanship, heightened with gold. He was clad in armour,
embroidered trunk-hose, and with collar turned out over the
_mentonnière_; the head bare, with curled hair and beard, and the
hands raised in prayer. He lies on a mattress, rolled up under the
head, which rests on an embroidered cushion laid upon it.

It is grievous to witness the maltreatment and neglect this fine
memorial has received, and no trace of inscription or heraldry
remains.

The third is the tomb of his wife, Dame Jane Cheney; this is in much
the same condition as the first in the series.

The effigy, of alabaster, is headless and much weather-worn. She wears
a robe with tippet edged with fur, long gown and waistband. The head
rested on two embroidered cushions. The figure was of fine
workmanship, similar in character to her husband's.

The tomb below has panels with arabesques, and in their centres
shields, originally covered with brasses. On the end panel, under the
head, is this inscription,--

HERE LYETH D^A. JANE LATE WIFE OF S^R. HENRIE CHEYNE KNIGHT L^O.
CHEYNE OF TODINGTON AND ELDEST DAVGHTER OF S^R. THOMAS WENTWORTH
KNIGHT L^O. WENTWORTH AND LORD CHAMBERLAINE TO KING EDWARD THE
SIXT WHO DECEASED THE 16 DAIE OF APRIL A^O. D^O. 1614.

HERE LIES MY BODIE IN CORRVPTIONS BED,
MY SOVLE BY FAITH AND HOPE TO HEAVEN IS LED,
IMPRISONED BY LIFE, DEATH SET ME FREE,
THEN WELCOME DEATH, STEP TO ÆTERNITY.

Before we quit the sacred precincts of the old edifice, our steps take
us to the chancel, and in scanning the memorials around, are arrested
awhile by the record of an interesting but sad episode of home life,
occurring during the last days of the residence of the Cheneys in
their grand home at Toddington. A small tablet on the south side of
the altar,--despoiled apparently, like the tombs in the transept, of
its ornamental accessories,--still speaks to us this tribute of
sisterly affection,--

IN MEMORIAM FRATRIS POSUIT-SOROR ALISIA BRVS
AMORIS ERGO.

GYLIS BRVSE ESQR YONGEST SON'E TO S^R. JOHN BRVSE OF WENHAM IN
SUFF' KNYGHT WHO COM'INGE TO TODDYNGTO' TO VISYTE HIS SYSTER
ALICE BRVSE THEN ATTENDING ON YE RIGHT HO' YE LADYE CHEYNE THERE
DYED YE 13 OF MARCH 1595 AND WAS BY HIS SAYDE SYSTER HERE
INTOMBED YE 14 OF MARCH REGNO REGINÆ ELIZAB: 38 ÆTATIS SUÆ 33.

As our stranger-foot turns to depart, the suggestive reflection
crosses the thoughts concerning the untoward fate of the vanished
Cheneys,--their name extinct, their sumptuous habitation razed to the
ground, and their costly memorials also subjected to almost
unparalleled indignity, neglect, and injury, short of actual
destruction,--can the well-worn but true adage, _sic transit gloria
mundi_, ever have received ampler verification?

But why should such striking collapse of this world's artificial
grandeur sadden the mind that rejoices in the unobtrusive station, and
simple unenvied delights--ever the best--of every-day life? In truth
it does not; as we pass out into the pleasant daylight, the olden
opulence and state of the departed Cheneys fades into the past as a
dream, for a much more healthful sight is before us. To-day is the
little rural town's holiday, and its inhabitants are enjoying
themselves with unrestrained pleasure, while the fine peal of bells in
the tower is also adding melodious tribute to the passing hour. Their
delightful cadence follows our retreating steps for a long distance,
and as their sweet sound dies to the outward ear, our walk continues
to be beguiled with this vagrant inward echo to their

DISTANT CHIMES.

Of poets song, inspirer oft,--yet still
Many of thy sweet changes wait unsung,--
Differing as are the hearts thine echoes fill,
As various the thoughts then through them rung:--
Who may define these pleasures that arise
Within the soul by quickening spell set free?
As lief may hand essay to paint the skies,
Whose passing glories change eternally.

Is it because we know not whence they come,
And only feel the magic of their power?
Outside our ken, from some Elysian home,
Spring the delights that charm the passing hour;
And heaven itself, beyond thought's bounding line,
Lies pictured still as wishful hearts incline.

Thus ends our visit to what was once the grand earthly home and
possessions of '_the extravagant Lord Cheney_'--one more strange, but
not altogether uncommon phase of human life. How many of these
historic apparitions have crossed the path of our desultory wanderings
over the west-country, flashing like meteors through the gloom of the
past, when summoned by the wizard hand of research, and as quickly
fading and disappearing when its sympathetic power is withdrawn. In
the glance of their happier, or more fortunate, transitory radiance,
may shine the pre-eminent glory of the crown, the mild lustre of the
mitre, the bold glow of the rod of office, or brilliant flash of the
sword; yet thickly interspersed albeit with the lurid gleam of the
axe, and perchance, as to-day, with the pitiful, hasty flicker of the
spendthrift.

So do the glimpses of these noted actors on the passing stage of human
existence, and the memories of their short but eventful careers, come
back to us, with intensely interesting, because real power, alongside
which the strongest flight of Romance is as a phantom. He who affects
to contemn such investigations, and lives only in and for the
present,--ignorant, careless, or indifferent as to the past, and bent
on enjoying, as it is termed, the passing hour,--little wots of the
care, the pain, and the strife, through which those who have gone
before, have fought and toiled and suffered;--lives but half a life,
in itself barren and ephemeral, as it is disassociated from all that
has preceded it and built the foundations of that life up. Whether for
good or for evil, matters not, the continuity of influence cannot be
dissevered, for

"In to-day already walks to-morrow."

From Toddington and our musing over his collateral descendants, our
story finally leads us back to the giant Knight himself, and the
solemn grandeur of Salisbury Cathedral. We take a final look at the
armoured form of this son of Anak, and as we glance at the lines of
recumbent forms,--ecclesiastics,--statesmen,--soldiers, and others,
that held high place during their lives in the government of their
native land, for the five or six eventful centuries, in which, through
much contention, that government was slowly determining and
settling,--the thought arises, how comprehensively this grand
building, as a sheep-fold, whose door is the Gate of Death, hath
silently and surely gathered together here these erstwhile great ones
of the earth at last,--even all sorts and conditions of men,--the
consecrated, the peaceful, the devoted, rest side by side with the
ambitious, the restless, the proud,--

"They live with God, their homes are dust;
But here their children pray."

To the passing wayfarer the glowing desires and anxious longings, that
animated their lives, are now well-nigh forgotten or unknown, and have
vanished in the past as a tale that is told,--"in the sight of the
unwise they seemed to die, but they are in peace," even the peace that
passeth all understanding.

BOSWORTH FIELD.

But one chance left--'mid these misfortunes vast,
Looming like avalanche upon their prey,--
"Treason!" he cried, "the White Rose die is cast,"
And like an unchained eagle spurred away,--
"The fiery Dragon to the heart I'll wound,
And him that with it seeks to snatch my crown,--
Swift! follow me! see Brandon bites the ground,
The giant Cheney from his horse is down,--
Fortune attend! my steed, a few strides more,
And the Red Rose shall doubly-dyed appear--
Can I but reach him--steeped in its own gore,
Or Death, come thou as foe I never fear,--
Traitors make way!"--but they in vengeful ring
Closed, and 'neath blows relentless fell the King!

[Illustration: INDENT OF THE BRASS OF ARCHBISHOP STAFFORD.
CANTERBURY CATHEDRAL]

"WITH THE SILVER HAND."

A warm sunny morning in early May, and turning our steps from the
thriving and somewhat busy town of Trowbridge,--a place which, like
its quieter sister of Westbury, "stondith mostly by clothiers,"--its
forest of smoking chimneys, garish town-hall, and tall spire,--our
path inclines by the broad south-westerly road that leads to Frome and
the parts adjacent. The walk is pleasant enough in its way, but
without special incident to interest the wayfarer, beyond the ordinary
pedestrian and vehicular motion of the hour.

In this direction we continue for about a mile and a half, and having
passed through the village of Studley, halt at a stile or gateway on
our left, and looking across a meadow of some extent, discern,
environed by orchards, the grey outline of a building, having the
unmistakable time-worn appearance of survival from a former age,
albeit not of large size, and flanked with clustering outbuildings,
that betoken its present inmate to be engaged in the great primeval
occupation.

Instinctively--from a memory sympathetically stored--a reverie for the
moment takes possession of the thoughts, as at the sight of the
unpretending structure, a large picture passes rapidly before the
mental eye, and with measured emphasis we observe,--a mother
unknown,--a son the most famous,--their last descendant the most
unfortunate!

Why--friend of mine--say you, do we propound this enigmatic commentary
as we view the old place? Gives it short clue to characters,
presumably, once connected with it, whose lives have embodied striking
phases of human existence, which whet the imagination to contemplate,
and to divine with all its subtle ingenuity, incidents conformable to
animate them?

Listen. Yonder is Suthwyke;--there, back in the middle of the
fourteenth century, a scion of the great family of Stafford of
mediæval fame, found his way from the county that gave them their
patronymic, and he, marrying the daughter of its then possessor,
settled himself within it, and became its lord and master.

Around its grey walls, so retiring and unpretentious, cluster
traditions of the first importance, that lead us out into the great
field of national history. From the first of this knightly race that
then dwelled therein, by a mother unknown,--who may have been the
comely daughter of some villain residing near,--issued a son, who,
despite all the contumely of his birth, won the mitre of the adjoining
See, rose to the supreme station of being the custodian of the
nation's purse, the keeper of the conscience of its reigning King, and
finally sat on the archiepiscopal throne of the realm, when the Church
was in her best estate. Of his grandson, styled of this place, who,
deputed to maintain the royal prerogative against plebeian agression,
fell fighting under the fierce onslaught of Wat Tyler in distant Kent.
Again, of his son, who rising high in the favour of his Sovereign, was
by him dignified with a patent of nobility named after his heritage in
this rural spot, with honours further increased; but who, meanly
swerving by ingratitude and petty dudgeon, in the first service
imposed on him by the monarch who had so recently honoured him,--to
the confusion of his royal patron,--was by the same kingly hand, as
suddenly and ignominiously extinguished, and with him perished also
the name and race of the family, of which he was its last
representative.

So we deliver the solution to our parable, as we leisurely cross the
broad meadow, but as we draw near the house, or Court as it is
termed,--our foot is abruptly stayed by a comparatively
invisible--until we are close on its edge--but decisive hindrance to
nearer approach, and indicative at once of the olden character of the
habitation, a deep and wide moat, still well supplied with water, that
surrounds the area on which the house stands. But no mail-clad
warrior, with glance of lance and pennon, salutes us, no wimpled lady
passes like a shadow around the old gable corners,--all the signs of
life visible are a bevy of ducks busily disporting themselves in the
water below, and a group of calves on the opposite brink, thrusting
their dappled faces through the bars of the fence, and calling lustily
to their foster-mother, the dairy-maid, to bring them their accustomed
meal.

A short distance below, a friendly stone bridge reveals itself, which
spans the chasm, and leads to a building,--that probably still
perpetuates in form and size the antient gate-house,--with a large
semi-circular-arched, and somewhat ornamented doorway, ghost of the
original portal, with its attendant portcullis and drawbridge.

We cross the bridge, but observe at a glance that it is doubtful if
any traces of the dwelling of the Stafford dynasty, or their immediate
successors, will be found in or upon it, and such proved to be the
case. The building is of moderate size, bears the characteristics of
having been erected early in the seventeenth century, and these
distinguishing features, with the exception of the mullioned windows,
a rather fine balustraded and newelled staircase, and the appearance
of an old nail-studded door here and there,--have been nearly
obliterated by adaptation to modern requirements. No dates were
visible, two panels over the entrances may contain such, but they are
carefully plastered over.

Suthwyck--Suthwyk--Southwyke, now modernized to Southwick Court, is
apparently built on the antient site, and probably very nearly
represents the original size of the building. A domestic chapel was
attached to the little mansion. This was situate a short distance from
it, on the other side of the moat; it now forms the corner of the farm
court, and was converted, about the year 1839, into a stable. No trace
of ecclesiastical use is found within it, but a few of the old
roof-timbers are discernible; the piscina, windows, &c., being
doubtless removed when it underwent the process of conversion.

"In Southwick, a tything of North-Bradley," says Canon Jackson,--

"two carucates of land belonged in 1274 to William de Greyville
or Greynville, who held under the Abbess of Romsey. About 1294,
his son Adam de Greynville, (there was a Justice in Eyre of his
name in 1267) attached to his house at Southwick Court a Chapel
dedicated to St. John the Baptist. By surrendering to the Rector
of Bradley, (at that time the Prebendary of Edington) a ground
called Alerleye, he obtained the right of presenting to his
Chapel a chantry priest, who in acknowledgment of fealty, was to
offer two pounds of wax in Bradley church, every year on the
anniversary of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist. In 1369 the
Bishop of Sarum (Robert de Wyvil) granted a license for Mass to
be said in the private mansion house of Southwick. This chaplain
in after times was always instituted to his office by the rectors
of Edington Monastery, to whom the church of Bradley then
belonged."

At the dissolution of Chantries in the reign of Henry VIII.,
Southwyke, Grenefreds (Grenvylles) Chantry, as it was called, was
reported by the Commissioners "Baltazar Segytte, incumbent, with six
pounds seven shillings a year. The plate weighed eight ounces one
pennyweight, and the goods were valued at nine shillings, whilst eight
and fourpence was allowed for a bell."

Suthwyke Court, and manor passed by successive heiresses through the
families of Greynville, Stafford, Cheney, and Willoughby. About 1483,
during a temporary forfeiture, it was given by Richard III. to his
favourite Ratcliffe; it was however restored, and about 1520 sold by
Robert, second Lord Willoughby de Broke to Sir David Owen, a supposed
son of Owen Tudor, who in his will, dated 1529, mentions this Manor
and Chantry. It was afterward disposed of in parcels, but the Court,
by descent, is now held by the old Wiltshire family of Long of
Rood-Ashton.

Of its former possessors, a few words.

Sir John Stafford, knt., of Amelcote and Bromshull, Staffordshire, who
was living in 1361, married as his second wife the Lady Margaret,
daughter of Sir Ralph Stafford, K.G., and one of the original founders
of that Order, second Baron Stafford, and who was subsequently raised
to the Earldom 5 March, 1351, and died in 1372; by his wife Margaret,
only daughter and heiress of Hugh de Audley, Baron Audley.[30] He had
issue by this marriage a son and heir named Humphrey.

[30] "Here (Tunbridge, Kent,) sometime lay entombed the bodies of
_Hugh de Audley_, second son of _Nicholas_, Lord _Audley_ of
Heleigh Castle, in the county of Stafford, who was created Earle
of Gloucester by King _Edward_ the third. This _Hugh_ died 10
November 1347. His wife _Margaret_ (first married to _Pierce
Gaveston_ Earle of Cornwall) dyed before him in the yeare of our
Lord 1342, the 13 day of Aprill. They were both together
sumptuously entombed by _Margaret_ their daughter, the onely
heire of her parents, wife to _Ralph de Stafford_, Earle of
Stafford. The said _Ralph de Stafford_ and _Margaret_ his wife,
were here likewise entombed at the feet of their father and
mother, this Ralph by the marriage of his wife _Margaret_, writ
himself in his charters and deeds, Baron of Tunbridge. Hee died
31 August, 1372, _Margaret_ his wife dyed 7 September, 1349."
(WEEVER.)

This son, Sir Humphrey, migrated into Wilts, and married first Alice,
daughter and heir of John de Greynville, the then possessor of
Suthwyke. By her he "acquired a large estate, viz., the manor, mansion
house, and patronage of the Church of St. John Baptist thereto annexed
of Suthwyke juxta Frome-Selwood, in the parish of North-Bradley,
Wilts,--the manors and advowsons of Clutton and Farnburgh, Somerset,
and the manor of Burmington, Warwick," and she was married to Sir
Humphrey before 1365. Her father bore for his arms, _Argent, six
lioncels rampant gules_. By her husband Sir Humphrey, she had a son
Humphrey, who became her heir. Sir Humphrey married secondly,
Elizabeth, second daughter of Sir William d'Aumarle of Woodbury,
Devon, who died 15 November, 1362, and widow of Sir John Maltravers of
Hooke, in Dorset, who died 15 June, 1386, and whose arms were, _Sable,
a fret or_. She had no children by Sir Humphrey, but two daughters by
her first husband; Maud, married first to Peter de la Mare, of
Offelegh, Herts, who died about 1395, and secondly to Sir John Dinham,
of Buckland-Dinham, Somerset, who died about 1428;[31] and Elizabeth,
married to her second husband's only son. He was sheriff of Dorset and
Somerset 12 Henry IV., 1411.

[31] Query, if the fine effigies of a knight and lady in
Kings-Carswell church in south Devon do not represent this Sir
John Dinham and his _first_ wife, Maud Maltravers. The Knight has
the arms of Dinham on his surcoat, and the shields on the tomb
below display Dinham impaling a _fret_ or _fretté_. There is
another interesting effigy of a lady in the same church, that may
possibly be intended for the _second_ wife of Sir John Dinham who
was a daughter of John, Lord Lovel.

Elizabeth, the second wife of Sir Humphrey died the 15 Oct., 1413, and
the knight himself survived her sixteen days only, dying on the 31
Oct., 1413, and both were buried beside her first husband, Sir John
Maltravers, in the Abbey Church of Abbotsbury. He was the first of his
line that bore for his arms, _Or, a chevron gules within a bordure
engrailed sable_.

All the foregoing coats of arms including also D'Aumarle, _Per fess
gules and azure, three crescents argent_, are found among the heraldic
display on the tomb of their descendant the Lady Elizabeth
Willoughby-Greville at Alcester.

Sir Humphrey Stafford--only child of the foregoing--was of Suthwyke in
right of his mother, and of Hooke, _jure uxoris_. He was surnamed
"_with the Silver Hand_,"--a 'periphrasis' whose meaning has not been
explained,--and married Elizabeth, the second daughter of his father's
second wife, by her first husband Sir John Maltravers. By her he had
three sons, Richard, John, and William, and one daughter Alice.

[Illustration: EFFIGY OF SIR JOHN DINHAM, KINGS-CARSWELL CHURCH,
DEVON. CIRCA 1428.]

Sir Humphrey, having thus married the heiress of Maltravers, probably
removed to Hooke, their antient seat, and made it his residence. Coker
says of Hooke House, that "in foregoing ages the Cifrewasts, men of
great antiquity and note dwelled there." Maltravers married
Cifrewast's heir, and the old historian continues, "Humphry Stafford
who married Maltravers' heir, was the great builder of it. This place
hath since been much beholden to William Pawlitt, Marquis of
Winchester, who augmented it with new buildings and often lived there,
but his successors have not thought so well of it, wherefore it is
like to run to decay." Paulet held it through his wife Elizabeth
Willoughby, by inheritance from Cheney and Stafford.[32] Arms of
Cifrewast of Hooke,--_Azure, three bars gemelles or_,--also found at
Alcester.

[32] See page 33.

Sir Humphrey died 27 May, 1442, his wife had pre-deceased him, dying
about 1420, and both were buried in the Abbey Church of Abbotsbury, in
the Chapel of St. Anne therein, which he had founded.

Before proceeding further with this descent of Stafford, our little
annals confront us with its most distinguished representative--albeit
by a side issue--John Stafford, consecrated Bishop of Bath and Wells
1425, Archbishop of Canterbury 1443, Lord Chancellor to Henry VI., and
who died in 1452. Who were his parents, and where is his position in
the family pedigree? The recognized 'authorities' on the subject
describe him as being _another_ son of the first Sir Humphrey, and
brother to him "_with the Silver Hand_." Yet no definite proof thereof
has been forthcoming. His presumed father Sir Humphrey made his will
at Hooke 5 April, 1413, with codicil dated 30 Oct., same year, but in
it he does not even mention him. Yet Sir Humphrey's second wife
Elizabeth Maltravers in a codicil to her's, dated 14 October, 1413,
does refer to him by bequest, _Item, Magistro Johanni Stafford, &c._

Sir Humphrey Stafford also, the only son of Sir Humphrey (the
Archbishop's presumed father), in his will dated 14 Dec., 1441,
includes bequests to the future Archbishop, thus recorded,--

_"Item, do et lego Johanni fratri meo divinâ pietate Bathoniensis
et Wellensis episcopo, unum par de fflacons argenteis et
deauratis._

"_Item, eidem Episcopo unam ymaginem argenteam et deauratum
decollationis sancti Johannis Baptiste, ac unam magnam peciam de
Aras vocatam doser._"

He also appoints the said bishop _his brother_, and William his son,
with others to be his executors.

An extraordinary confusion appears to have enveloped the statements of
historians and antiquaries as to the pedigree of Stafford, and the
Archbishop's origin; this however has of late been satisfactorily
cleared up by the researches of an accomplished and accurate
genealogist. He _was_ the son of the first Sir Humphrey, but not born
within the legal pale of wedlock, and his mother's name was Emma,
that she was subsequently admitted to the Sisterhood of the Priory of
the Holy Trinity, Canterbury, of which her son the Archbishop was a
Brother, but _who_ she was has not as yet been recovered. She died 5
Sept., 1446, and was buried in a mortuary chapel in the north aisle of
the parish church of North-Bradley, Wilts, in which Suthwyke is
situated.

"As her son was elevated to the primacy in 1443 he is here (on
the gravestone) correctly described as Archbishop at the time of
his mother's death, which could not have been done had she died
in 1440. Considering that the archbishop raised this mortuary
chapel as a resting place for his mother's remains,--if not for
his own--in the church of the parish in which Suthwyke manor
house is situate, and that his father resided at Suthwyke until
the period of his marriage with his second wife, when he removed
to her dower house of Hoke in Dorsetshire, it is not unreasonable
to infer that the archbishop was born in the parish of
North-Bradley.

"As his mother survived Sir Humphry's last wife, who died in
1413,--only sixteen days before Sir Humphry--it is impossible the
archbishop's mother could have been Sir Humphry's wife, at the
time her son was born. His birth must be set as far back as 1387,
if not earlier, as in 1413 he was made LL.D. at Oxford, and in
the same year he was collated to the Prebendal stall of Barton in
the Cathedral church of Wells."[33]

[33] See a most able and comprehensive account of "_Stafford of
Suthwyke_," in _Notes and Queries for 1871_, by B. W. GREENFIELD,
ESQ., F.S.A., &c., from which we quote; and for other help kindly
afforded, we here gratefully acknowledge.

The mortuary Chapel that the Archbishop erected to the memory of his
mother, and to which doubtless he had her remains conveyed, and
therein interred, occurs at the east end of the north aisle of
North-Bradley church, and is of the width of the last bay of the
arcade. It is of square form and projects with definite character from
the church, to which it forms a kind of transept.

The architecture is Perpendicular, and of rich character. The east
window square-headed, of some height from the floor, shewing that
there was an altar once below it, and a piscina occurs in the pier of
the arch on the south side. The south window is of large size,
bay-shaped, and extends to the roof, the side jambs are panelled with
window-shaped tracery, and along the top is a string-course of
quatrefoil panels with bosses, and these are repeated at the base over
the tomb; here they have shields in the centre, but with no charges on
them. The roof, in a good state of preservation, is a richly trussed
one of oak, with deeply moulded transoms, again subdivided by smaller
ones, the squares between ornamented with quatrefoils, having
well-carved bosses in their centres, and others at the intersection of
the trusses. On one nearest the chancel is the cross and crown of
thorns,--on others the arms of Hungerford, the double rose, and some
display, apparently representations of stags, a fox, man on horse, &c.

The tomb of the Archbishop's mother is in the recess of the bay of the
north window. It occupies its whole width and depth, and assumes the
form of a plain solid bench rising some height from the ground, with
no ornament of any kind. It is composed of white stone, as is also the
gravestone, let in on the top, which appears to be of somewhat
different kind, and of more friable character.

[Illustration: EMMA, MOTHER OF ARCHBISHOP STAFFORD.
NORTH-BRADLEY CHURCH, WILTSHIRE.--A.D. 1446.]

On this gravestone the effigy of the mother of the Archbishop is
incised, below her feet is a pedestal, and over her head a rich canopy
supported on side buttresses. Although the lines of the figure are
somewhat denuded, yet sufficient remains to shew she was clad in the
ordinary costume of a lady of the period. On her head she wears a
coverchief that depends to the shoulders, a wimple around her neck,
and she is otherwise attired in long gown and robe over. The hands are
raised in prayer, and at her feet is a dog, apparently a spaniel, from
his dependant ears and clouded coat. The incised lines are filled with
a black composition, as is also the inscription that forms a
ledger-line around the stone,--

=Hic jacet d'na Emma mater Venerandissimi patris et domini D'ni
Joh'is Stafford dei gra' Cantuariensis Archiepi' que obiit quinto
die mensis Septembris anno d'ni Millesimo cccc^mo quadra's'mo
vi^o cuj' anime p'piciet' de' am'=

On the outside, the Chapel is very noticeable, on account of its
height and rich character as compared with the main fabric of the
church. The corner buttresses have pinnacles at their stages, and the
space below the north window is filled with quatrefoiled panels, and
lozenges, traceried, with plain shields in their centres. A remarkable
peculiarity is observable,--the carved ornamentation of the Chapel was
never finished, the pinnacles on one buttress are completed, the
crockets on the other only roughed out, and the cusps of the panel
work above the tomb inside, still display the pencil marks of the
intention of the carver, which his chisel never gave form to. The
shields also are all perfectly plain and uncharged, and no trace of
the armories of Stafford are at present visible anywhere on the
Chapel, either within or without.

When Aubrey visited the Chapel in 1669, he notes,--

"By the north aisle is a peculiar chappell of excellent worke,
the roof of wood curiously carved. I guesse the worke to be about
temp: Henry VI. about which time this kind of Gothique
architecture was at the height. This was as noble a Chapelle as
any in the county, now, in the windowe, like a great bay windowe
is only one scutcheon left entire; viz: Stafford,--_Or, a chevron
gules._ Another was quarterley, _now broken_: another thus
Stafford, imp: Beville. At the bottom thereof is a flatt
gravestone of freestone well worked, lineally with the figure of
a lady in a Gothique niche. In the limbe thereof this inscription
"=Hic jacet d'na Emma, &c=."

The old antiquary gives the inscription fairly correct as it now is
found, but at the end he adds these further words,--"=O Deus trina me
John conserva ruina=,"--(_O triune God, save me, John, from
perdition_). But such never could have existed on the face of the
gravestone, as the inscription, without this addition completely fills
the ledger-line around its edge. Probably he saw it in one of the
windows. He then goes on to say,--

"In the limbe of the windowe are these fragments "=Emme matris
d... d'ni Joh'is Archiep...r...dicti=." In the top of this
windowe, and also of the other, in scrolls,--"=Gnothi seauton:
Nosce te ipsum.=" The other windowe is all broken, but the scrolls
aforesaid: only the picture of the archbishop, except his head,
remains, of curious painted glass, he in his formalities, with
pall, crozier, &c., in a cope of sky colour. In a limbe of this
windowe "=hujus capelle ... Archiepi Cantuar=." In the carved wood
work of the roofe are several little hunting figures, as of men
carrying a deer, shooting a deer in the wood. One scutcheon of
Hungerford in wood. This chapell is built outside the church, as
Hungerfords at Sarum, but the scutcheons of stone are not
charged."

A review of the circumstances attending the origin and career of John
Stafford, Archbishop of Canterbury, furnishes a subject of peculiar
interest. Born, as we have observed, outside the legal pale, and as a
consequence, subject to all its worldly disadvantages, this drawback
appears to have found no hindrance to his advancement on the path of
life, which ultimately led--short of sovereignty--to the highest
station it had to offer. This result exhibits another striking
instance of those marvellous careers, that have so often waited upon
these natural children of mankind, who bearing down all obstacles in
their way, and contemptuous of the goody-goody frowns and askant
glances of their more piously-bred neighbours, by the force of their
character, and the self-reliance engendered by what is termed
misfortune of birth, have achieved the position of standing among the
leaders and rulers of their race.

Examined by the light of common sense, the cause of this innate
distinction is perhaps not far to seek. In its highest and truest
sense, such have received their being under the strongest impulses
that animate the human heart, knit by the influence of attachment
often so powerful, that no present consequence, or after consideration
received at the time a moment's parley, and Nature in the result
asserts the aristocracy of her lineage; whereof the life of the
Archbishop is a notable example. Proscribed doubtless, then as now, by
the social world from assuming equality with them, and unable
therefore to pursue any of the usual worldly professions with equal
chances of success, it is refreshing to find the highest human
vocation, the office of the Christian minister, was at his
acceptance,--the Church opened her door to the human waif,--who was
destined afterward to become her chief pastor. From his presumed
father--as usual--he received scant help, but five years before his
death, Sir Humphrey bestowed on him a costless gift, by presenting the
future Archbishop to the family living of Farnboro', in the diocese of
Bath and Wells,--a See he afterward presided over.

The close affection also that evidently existed between the Archbishop
and his mother, cemented doubtless by the circumstances of his birth,
and her consequent comparative isolation from society, is a delightful
trait in his character; and it may be fully surmised caused him to
take her to Canterbury, there to become a Sister of the religious
house, of which fraternity he was a Brother, in order that she might
be well cared for, and be near him, and where she probably passed the
last twenty years of her life. She lived long enough to see her
distinguished son ascend the Archiepiscopal throne, and as Lord
Chancellor also to the reigning sovereign, King Henry VI., become at
once the first citizen of his native land, both in Church and State; a
remarkable privilege, that few mothers indeed,--no matter what
distinction of birth or station they inherited,--have been destined to
witness.

At her death in 1446, the Archbishop had her body conveyed back to
North-Bradley, of which place she presumably was a native, and where
probably her son was born. There he deposited her remains in the
mortuary chapel attached to the parish church he had specially built
to receive them, under a tomb whereon he caused her form to be
depicted, and surrounded it with the simple inscription that still
remains to bear witness of his filial affection.

It is noticeable that some intimacy must have sprung up between his
father's family and himself, for although Sir Humphrey does not
mention him in his will, yet his second wife Elizabeth D'Aumarle does
so in hers. This intercourse probably ripened toward the end of his
life, for his legally-born half-brother, Sir Humphrey "_with the
Silver Hand_," who died ten years before the Archbishop, bequeaths him
some silver plate, and constitutes him one of his executors. This
acknowledgment would be quite in accordance with the ordinary ways
of the world, Sir Humphrey doubtless properly felt that the honour
of the friendship had now passed to the side of his presumed
half-brother,--the stray off-shoot of the Stafford blood, had outgrown
and overshadowed in position and fame, all the other branches of the
family tree, and consequent on this, as a matter of course, his
kinship was not disowned, and the Archbishop became the "_frater meo_"
of the Knight "_with the Silver Hand_."

But, strange irony of this world's remembrance,--in death, if not in
life their memory was to be avenged,--not a fragment of a memorial,
nor the trace of an inscription remains to any direct member of the
influential family of Stafford of Suthwyke and Hooke. Eschewing the
humble precincts of the churches of the parishes in which their homes
in Wilts and Dorset were situate as a place of burial, they caused
their dust to be carried many miles away to the grand Abbey Church of
Abbotsbury, and deposited in a Chantry they had founded therein, with
its attendant priest to supplicate unceasingly for the welfare of
their souls. Not very long after the last member of their race was
laid within it, ruthless hands razed the great fabric to the ground,
when all the memorials to the dead it contained were destroyed, and
with such completeness, that even the position of their sepulchres may
not at present be discerned, so that now, the tomb of the mother of
the Archbishop alone remains in these western parts, to bear indirect
witness of their former existence.

The Archbishop appears to have died at Maidstone on the sixth of July,
1452, and was buried in the "Transept of the Martyrdom" in Canterbury
Cathedral.

He lies under an immense (Purbeck?) marble stone, perhaps the very
largest in the cathedral, eleven feet five inches in length, by four
feet six inches in breadth. On this was originally a magnificent
brass, almost entirely filling the stone, but only the indent, now
also much frayed, remains.

The outline shews us the effigy of the Archbishop _in pontificalibus_,
with mitre and pastoral staff. He stands under a rich canopy with
pinnacles and finials, supported on long buttresses that extend down
to the base of the composition. Below his feet there was evidently a
square panel which probably contained the "confabulatorie epitaph"
seen and copied by Weever. Around the edge of the stone is a
ledger-line, that probably had the emblems of the Evangelists at the
angles.

The Archbishop's gravestone has shared the common fate accorded to all
the brass-inlaid stones, that doubtless formerly thickly adorned the
pavement of the cathedral, but of which not a single undespoiled
example now remains.

On a boss in the vaulting immediately above, are the prelate's arms,
being those of the See of Canterbury, impaling, _Or, on a chevron
gules, a mitre argent, within a bordure engrailed sable_ (STAFFORD OF
SUTHWYKE, _with difference_).

Weever,[34] thus speaks of the Archbishop.--

[34] Edition, 1631.

"Here (Canterbury Cathedral) lies interred in the Martyrdome an
Archbishop, very noble, and no lesse learned, one of the
honourable familie of the _Staffords_; sonne (saith the Catalogue
of Bishops) vnto the Earle of Stafford, but I finde no such thing
in all the Catalogues of Honour; a man much favoured by King
_Henry_ the fifth, who preferred him first to the Deanrie of
Wells, gave him a Prebend in the Church of Salisbury, and made
him one of his privie Councell, and in the end Treasurer of
England. And then although this renowned King was taken away by
vntimely death, ye hee still went forward in the way of
promotion, and obtained the Bishopricke of Bath and Welles, which
with great wisedome hee governed eighteene yeares, from whence he
was removed to this of Canterbury, in which he sate almost nine
yeares; and in the meanetime was made Lord Chancellour of
England, which office hee held eighteene years (which you shall
hardly finde any other man to have done) vntill wearie of so
painfull a place, he voluntarily resigned it over into the King's
hands. And about three yeares after that died at Maidstone July
6. _Ann_: 1452. Vpon a flat marble stone over him I find this
confabulatorie Epitaph:--

=Quis fuit enuclees quem celas saxea moles?
Stafford Antistes fuerat dictusque Johannes.
Qua sedit sede marmor queso simul ede?
Pridem Bathonie. Regni totius et inde
Primas egregius. Pro presule funde precatus
Aureolam gratus huic det de Virgine natus.="

Of the Archbishop's public career as Metropolitan and Lord Chancellor,
this belongs rather to the province of national history, and is
altogether too extensive for even short notice here, it has been amply
treated by Dean Hook in his _Lives of the Archbishops of Canterbury_.
Lord Campbell in his _Lives of the Chancellors_ thus speaks of
Stafford in that capacity,--

"Having with great reputation taken the degree of Doctor of Civil
Law at Oxford, he practised for some time as an advocate in
Doctors Commons, when Chicheley, Archbishop of Canterbury
elevated him to be Dean of the Arches and obtained for him the
deanery of St. Martin, and a prebend in Lincoln Cathedral. He
then became a favourite of Henry V., who made him successively
Dean of Wells, Prebendary of Sarum, Keeper of the Privy Seal, and
Treasurer of England. He attached himself to the party of
Cardinal Beaufort, by whose interest in 1425, he was appointed
Bishop of Bath and Wells.

[Illustration: EFFIGIES OF WILLIAM, LORD BOTTREAUX, AND ELIZABETH
BEAUMONT, HIS WIFE.
NORTH CADBURY CH----]

"From the Close Roll we learn 'that the Lord Cardinal, Archbishop
Kempe, on 25 Feb. 1432, delivered up to the King, the gold and
silver seals, and the Duke of Gloucester immediately took them
and kept them till the fourth of March, on which day, he gave
them back to the King and they were delivered by his Majesty to
John Stafford, Bishop of Bath and Wells for the despatch of
business.'

"He filled the office of Chancellor till 1450 a longer period
than any one had before continuously held the Great Seal. This
took place on 31 Jany. 1450, the day the Parliament pursuant to
the last adjournment, when 'the Archbishop of Canterbury was
discharged from the office of Chancellor, and John Kempe,
Cardinal and Archbishop of York was put in his place.'

"He retired from politics and died at Maidstone, in Kent, on 6
July 1452. He was _pars negotiis neque supra_, one of those
sensible, moderate, plodding safe men, who are often much
relished by the leaders of political parties, as they can fill an
office not discreditably, without any danger of gaining too much
_éclat_, and with a certainty of continued subserviency."

"Sensible--moderate--plodding--safe,"--words which may be condensed
into, and construed to embody that most useful, homely, yet withal
rarest, of all endowments,--common-sense--whose practice in the long
run is of far greater value from its reliability, than the
too-often-found instability and hazard of careers termed
brilliant,--and ever forms a most desirable, if not a great character.

To return to the descent of Stafford and the four children of Sir
Humphrey "_with the Silver Hand_."

Sir Richard Stafford the eldest son, married Maud daughter and heir of
Richard Lovell, Esq., by Elizabeth daughter and coheir of Sir Guy de
Briene, knt. By her he had one child only, a daughter, named Avice,
ob. 3 June, 1457, "a great heiress," married as his second wife, to
James Butler, fifth Earl of Ormonde, created Earl of Wiltshire and
K.G. in 1449. He was also Lord Treasurer of England and a staunch
adherent of the Red Rose, was taken prisoner after the battle of
Towton, by Richard Salkeld, Esq., and beheaded at Newcastle 1 May,
1461. Sir Richard died about 1427, his wife afterward married John
Fitzalan, thirteenth Earl of Arundel, K.G., ob. 12 June, 1435, by whom
she had a son Humphrey, fourteenth Earl. She died 19 May, 1436, and
was buried with her first husband in the Chapel of St. Anne in the
Abbey Church of Abbotsbury.

Sir John Stafford, second son, married Anne daughter of William the
third and last Lord Bottreaux, ob. 14 May, 1462, by his wife Elizabeth
daughter of John, Lord Beaumont. By her he had one child only,
Humphrey, who died in Scotland 6 Aug., 1461. Sir John died 5 Nov.,
1427, and was buried with his kindred at Abbotsbury Abbey.

The presumed tomb with effigies of Lord and Lady Bottreaux, the
parents of Anne, is in the church of North-Cadbury, Somerset. Its
original position was in the Founder's place, on the north side of the
chancel, but it is now relegated to a corner of the tower at the west
end. The knight is in complete plate armour, the lady in richly
ornamented horned head-dress, and long robes. A canopy is over their
heads. Lord Bottreaux married first Elizabeth, daughter of John, Lord
Beaumont, she died about 37 Henry VI. (1459). By her he had two sons
and two daughters. William, who died before 1434; Reginald, ob. 1420;
Anne, married to Sir John Stafford; and Margaret, who died 7 Feb.,
1478-9, eventually sole heiress to the large property and titles of
Bottreaux and Mules, married to Robert, Lord Hungerford, ob. 14 May,
1459. Lord Bottreaux married secondly Margaret daughter of Thomas,
Lord Roos. He died seized of fifty manors, in the western counties,
among them North-Cadbury, which they possessed through the heiress of
Mules, and in that church (which they probably rebuilt), by his will
he ordered himself to be buried. Reginald, the second son, and brother
of Anne, was buried at Aller church, near Langport, which parish was
part of the family property. On a flat stone formerly in the pavement
of the chancel, but now set upright, on a ledger-line is incised the
following inscription,--

=Hic jacet Roginaldus filius William dom' de Botreaux qui obiit
xxx die mensis Julii anno dom' m^o cccc xx=

In the centre is a shield,--_A griffin rampant_ (BOTTREAUX), impaling
_semée of fleurs-de-lys, a lion rampant_ (BEAUMONT).

William Stafford, Esq., third son, was of Suthwyke; he married
Katharine daughter of Sir John Chidiock, knt., by whom he had one son
Humphrey, subsequently created Lord Stafford of Suthwyke and Earl of
Devon. More with regard to him presently. William Stafford, together
with his relative Sir Humphrey Stafford of Grafton, knt., Commander of
the King's forces, were both killed in the encounter with Jack Cade
and the Kentish insurgents (who came off victorious), at Sevenoaks, 18
June, 1450. His wife married secondly Sir John Arundell of Lanherne,
Cornwall, knt., ob. 12 Nov., 1473, and thirdly Sir Roger Lewkenor,
knt., ob. 4 Aug., 1478. She died 10 April, 1479.

Alice, their only daughter, married first her neighbour Sir Edmond
Cheney, of Broke, Wilts, and by him had two daughters, Elizabeth and
Anne.[35] Secondly she married Walter Tailboys of Newton-Kyme,
Yorkshire, ob. 13 Apl., 1444; by him she had one daughter Alianore,
married to Thomas Strangeways, Esq., by whom she had two sons Henry
and Thomas, and one daughter Joan. Thomas Strangeways died in 1484,
his wife Alianore 2 April, 1502, and both were buried in the Lady
Chapel of the Abbey church of Abbotsbury.

[35] See page 5.

Our thoughts now concentrate on the last--most greatly honoured, yet
withal most unfortunate--representative of Stafford of Suthwyke, who
rose to the highest dignity conferred on the family, but whose
possession of the distinction was indeed short, and his life still
more suddenly and disastrously extinguished.

This was Humphrey, the only son of William Stafford of Suthwyke,
killed at Sevenoaks in 1450. His cousin Humphrey, son of his uncle Sir
John Stafford, dying in Scotland in 1461, he became the sole male heir
left remaining. He was born about 1440, and appears to have identified
himself with the cause of the White Rose, and to have been in much
favour with Edward IV.

Stafford is accused of having been ill-disposed toward the Courtenays,
Earls of Devon, who were zealous adherents of the Red Rose; naturally
so, for they were descendants of that branch of the royal blood, and
with such devotion, that the three brothers, Thomas, Henry, and John,
who were the last representatives of the elder descent of that
illustrious house, lost their lives, either in the battlefield or on
the scaffold, and their property by confiscation, in support of its
claims. They were the sons of Thomas Courtenay, first of that name,
Earl of Devon, who died 3 Feb., 1458, by his wife Margaret Beaufort,
second daughter of John, Earl of Somerset, eldest son of John of
Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, by his third wife Katharine Swynford.

A necessary digression respecting the Courtenays takes place here, as
Stafford bears the sinister reputation of acquiring, by means not the
most honourable, a large portion of their property and their title.

Thomas Courtenay, Earl of Devon, the eldest of these brothers,
fighting for the Red Rose, was made prisoner after the battle of
Towton, 29 March, 1461, taken to York, attainted and beheaded by order
of Edward IV., and all his property confiscated to the crown.

He appears to have been one of the most lawless and unscrupulous men
of that lawless era,--his father it was, who is said to have fought
with Lord Bonville on Clyst-Heath, and himself, the son, the leader of
the outrage and murder of poor old Radford the lawyer, at Poughill,
near Crediton, so graphically described in one of the Paston letters,
and which as a picture of the ferocity of the time will bear extract
here,--

"Also y'r is gret varyance bytwene ye Erll of Devenshire and the
Lord Bonvyle as hath be many day and meche debat is like to growe
y'rby for on thursday at nyght last passed ye Erll of Denshyres
sone and heir come w't lx men of Armes to Radfords place in
Devenshire which was of counceil w't my Lord Bonvyle and they
sette an hous on fyer at Radfords gate and cryed and mad an noyse
as though they had be sorry for ye fyer, and by that cause
Radfords men set opyn ye gats and yede owt to se ye fyer and for
w't th'erll sone foreseid entred into ye place and intreted
Radford to come down of his chambre to spike w't' them p'myttyng
him that he shuld no bodyly harm have upon whiche p'mysse he come
down and spak w't ye said Erll sone.

"In ye mene tyme his menye robbe his chambre and ryfled his
hutches and trussed suyche as they coude gete to gydder and
caryed it away on his own hors.

"Thanne y'erll sone seid, Radford thou must come to my Lord my
Fadir, he seid he wold and bad oon of his men make redy his hors
to ride w't 'hene whiche answerd hym yt alle his hors wern take
awey, thanne he seid to y'erll sone s^r yo'r men have robbed my
chambre and thei have myn hors yt I may not ride w't you to my
Lord yo'r fadir, wherfor I p'y you lete me ride for I am old and
may not go.

"It was answerid hym ageyn yat he shuld walke forth w't them on
his feete and so he dede till he was a flyte shote or more from
his place and yanne he was ... softly for cawse he myght not go
fast and whanne yei were thus dep'ted he t'ned ... oon forw't
come ix men ageyn upon hym and smot hym in the hed and fellid ...
of then kyt his throte." (28 October 1455.)

We fear the feud between Bonville and Courtenay, that began with the
'valiant performance' on Clyst-Heath, was still raging, and it may be,
the cause of poor old lawyer Radford's death, as it is mentioned he
"_was of counceil w't my Lord Bonvyle_," which circumstance the
Courtenays appear to have resented in this terrible manner. Six years
afterward the edge of the axe fatally crossed the throat of "_ye said
Erll's sone_," and leader of this outrage, at York.

The place from which this free-booting party set out was Tiverton
Castle, the family residence, where his father the Earl was then
living. The castle and manor of Tiverton formed part of the Courtenay
possessions afterward given by Edward IV. to Stafford.

Henry Courtenay, the next brother, and Earl of Devon, for alleged
complicity with Richard Nevill, Earl of Warwick, and his brothers,
then exerting their influence for the restoration of Henry VI., was
with Sir Thomas Hungerford of Farleigh Castle, seized, attainted of
treason, and after a short trial before the King's Justices, both
beheaded at Salisbury, 4 March, 1466.

John Courtenay, the third and last of these brothers, fell fighting
for the Red Rose at the battle of Tewkesbury, 4 May, 1471. In his
death, that branch of the family became _extinct_ for the cause of the
Red Rose, as their neighbours and relatives the Bonvilles suffered
extermination, about the same time, and in a similar manner,
contending for the White Rose.

But the charge against Humphrey, Lord Stafford, chiefly related to his
alleged antagonism to Henry Courtenay, the second of these brothers,
who was executed at Salisbury, and whose death he is said to have
'procured.' In those days of feud and intrigue, it is impossible to
say what men may not have covertly done, to carry out their aims and
designs, but it is to be hoped such was not really Stafford's conduct
in this case, for if so, the signally sudden and similar retribution,
that so soon afterward overtook him, was well deserved.

But be that as it may, it is certain that a large portion of the
confiscated possessions of the Courtenays, "the bulk of the estate,"
about the time of the death of Henry Courtenay, was bestowed by Edward
IV. on Stafford, and three years afterward, 7 May, 1469, he was raised
by that monarch to the old and coveted title of Earl of Devon, and
this while John Courtenay, the last of the three brothers, was still
alive, as he perished at the battle of Tewkesbury two years afterward.

But John Courtenay, the true heir to the distinguished title, lived
long enough to see this pretender to it as ignominiously extinguished,
and it is remarkable that this illustrious heirloom, although twice
conferred on others, each attempt has proved futile to wrest it from
the rightful owners.

Sir Humphrey Stafford had been created BARON OF SUTHWYKE, first by
Writ of Summons dated 21 July, 1461, afterward confirmed by patent
dated 24 April, 1464, and, as we have observed, he was further
advanced to the dignity of EARL OF DEVON, 7 May, 1469.

Very soon after this honour was conferred on him, Edward despatched
the Earl with eight hundred archers, to aid the Earl of Pembroke and
his brother Sir Richard Herbert then in command of about seven
thousand Welchmen, marching to give Sir John Coniers and the
Lancastrians battle. The sequel cannot be better related than in the
words of Cleaveland:--

"With these forces the Earl of Pembroke resolved to hinder the
rebels in their journey, and having notice that they took their
way by _Northampton_, he led the whole body of his army against
them, having given orders to Sir _Richard Herbert_ with two
thousand soldiers, to wheel about and charge the enemy in the
rear. Sir _John Coniers_ had so carefully strengthened the
rearward, that the _Welch_ were repulsed with loss, whereupon Sir
_Richard Herbert_ retired to his brother, and Sir _John Coniers_
diverted from his direct course to _London_, marched towards
_Warwick_, where the Duke of _Clarence_, and the Earl of
_Warwick_, had levied a mighty host. The Earl of _Pembroke_
followed him closely, expecting an opportunity of cutting off
some part of the enemy, as they marched disorderly, or to give
battle to the whole army: but while he was in this pursuit of
glory, a small difference between him and the Lord _Stafford_,
ruined the whole attempt; for he encamping at _Banbury_, a
question arose concerning an Inn, to which _Stafford_ pretended,
as having long used the house; but the Earl of _Pembroke_, in
regard of his preheminence as General, was resolved to lodge in
it. This so trivial distaste, (if there was no farther treason in
it) grew so high, that _Stafford_ withdrew himself and his
_English_ archers. The rebels, who soon had notice of this
unhappy discord, gave the Earl's camp the next morning a sudden
assault: the _Welch_ received the charge so stoutly, that they
took Sir _Henry Neville_, the leader; but, guilty of too much
barbarity, most cruelly slew him in cold blood, by which act they
raised so fierce a desire of revenge in the enemy, that the next
day they gave the Earl battle, and the fight was longe and cruel,
but at last the _Welchmen_ fled; in the battle five thousand of
the _Welch_ were slain, and, among the few prisoners the Earl of
_Pembroke_, and Sir _Richard Herbert_ were taken, whose heads
were soon after sacrificed to the ghost of _Neville_."

Another account says this quarrel about the Inn was the result of a
matter of love rather than war, that "a fair damsel was resident in
the house, of whom both Earls became enamoured, and contrary to the
arrangement entered into between them, the first in possession should
remain so, the Earl of Devon was dispossessed by the Earl of Pembroke,
which excited so much discord between them that, unmindful of his duty
to his Sovereign, and the cause in which he was engaged, he departed
with his power,"--and so, as a consequence thereon, the Earl of
Pembroke and his brother lost their lives, together with five thousand
soldiers, who perished on the plain of Danesmore, near Edgcote, about
three miles from Banbury, 6 July, 1469.

Treachery of this kind was not likely to be lightly passed over by
Edward, justly angry at the defeat of his army, and ingratitude of the
man he had so recently honoured. Orders were sent to the Sheriffs of
Somerset and Devon to seize Stafford wherever they could find him, and
put him to immediate death. The Earl had returned to Somerset, he was
taken at the village of Brentmarsh, promptly conveyed to Bridgwater,
and there at once beheaded in the market-place on the 17 Aug., 1469.
His body was conveyed to Glastonbury, and buried under the south arch
of the great tower, at the cross of the Abbey Church.

He had made his will some years before, bearing date 3 September,
1463, wherein he "_bequeathed his body to be buried in the Church of
our Lady at Glastonbury, and appointed Mr. Michael Goss, and Mr.
Watts, then Wardens of the Grey Friars in Exeter, should for the
salvation of his soul, go to every parish church, in the counties of_
_Dorset, Somerset, Wilts, Devon, and Cornwall, and say a sermon in
every church, and town, and other. And because he could not recompense
such whom he had offended, he desired them to forgive his poor soul,
that it might not be in danger_" (Dugdale).

So perished Humphrey Stafford, Earl of Devon, still quite a young man,
for he could not have been more than thirty years of age,--"he
enjoyed," continues Cleaveland, "but a little time that honour and
estate which he got by procuring the death of its right owner, and he
was in derision called _The Earl of three months standing and no
more_."

The Earl married Isabel daughter of Sir John Barry, knt.,--and after
his death she remarried with Sir Thomas Bourchier, knt., fifth son of
Henry Bourchier, second Earl of Ewe, and 30 June, 1461, created Earl
of Essex, who was also Lord Treasurer of England, and who died in
1483,--by his wife Isabel, daughter of Richard, Duke of York, and
sister to King Edward IV., another strange conjunction, her thus
marrying a nephew of the man who had so vindictively beheaded her
first husband. But sentiment had little place in those days; ambition,
station, and love of rule were the things sought after, all else seems
to have been forgotten.

Weever gives the following inscription as occurring in the church of
Ware, Herts, where both herself and second husband appear to have been
buried,--

=Hic iacet Thomas Bourchier miles filius Henrici comitis Essex; ac
Isabella uxor eius nuper comitissa Devon, filia et heres Johannis
Barry militis: qui obiit ... 1491 et Isabella ob. 1 die Marcij
1488, quorum animabus &c.=

Whereon the old 'epitaphist' is induced to further moralize,--

"This _Isabell_, the daughter and heire of Sir _John Barry_,
knight, was, when the said _Thomas_ married her, the widow of
_Humfrey_ Lord _Stafford_, of Southwike, sonne of _William
Stafford_ of _Hooke_, Esquire, created Earle of Devon, by King
_Edward_ the fourth; to whom the King gave all honours, manors,
Castles, &c., which were _Thomas Courtneys_, the fourteenth Earle
of Devon: who neverthelesse, grew ingratefull to King _Edward_
his advancer, in revolting from him at the battaile of Banbury,
for which cowardise (hee being apprehended) was without processe
executed at Bridgewater, the seventeenth of August, _anno. 1469_,
having been Earle but three moneths."

At his death the ill-gotten estates of the Courtenays that he
possessed, were again forfeited, and Edward IV. gave a considerable
portion of them to another eminent west-countryman John, Lord Dinham,
and to other grantees, but the succession failed in nearly all the
recipients, and Henry VII., in the first year of his reign, made void
all these grants by Edward IV., and restored both the title and the
estates to their rightful owners.

Here, before we finally dismiss our thoughts on the signal catastrophe
that ended the dynasty of Stafford of Suthwyke, we dwell awhile on the
singular parallelism of characters and incidents that are presented to
us in each of our little narratives relative to the distinguished but
unfortunate house of Stafford.

Both the prominent factors of our unpretending histories fell victims
to the vengeance of the White Rose, the result of defection doubtless,
though of differing kind. Each experienced the same unhappy fate,
Humphrey Stafford, Earl of Devon, was sent to the scaffold at
Bridgwater, by the peremptory mandate of Edward IV., Henry Stafford,
Duke of Buckingham, suffered in similar summary manner at Salisbury,
by the relentless order of Richard III.

Two eminent ecclesiastics of the highest dignity are also associated
with their relations. John Stafford, Archbishop of Canterbury, and
Lord Chancellor to Henry VI., finds place in the one, and John Morton,
Cardinal-Archbishop of Canterbury, and Lord Chancellor to Henry VII.,
appears in the other.

Both were west-countrymen also, having been born in neighbouring
counties, the one at a village in north Wilts, the other in a little
country town in central Dorset.

Stafford saw the beginning of the internecine strife of the Roses, but
was called away as their rival pretensions began to assert themselves,
and the deadly conflict to thicken.

Morton appeared at the conclusion of the disastrous quarrel, and it
was reserved for him to put a stop to the deluge of blood that had
been ruthlessly shed for so many years,--computed to have cost a
hundred thousand lives,--decimating his native land, and by uniting
and neutralizing the contending claims, bring it peace. A
statesman-like mission of the first importance, and carried out with
such consummate wisdom, that it has been aptly said, "he joined the
Roses, that is, he brought about the union of the Houses of York and
Lancaster, for that was his doing, and, so far as can now be seen,
would not have been done but for him. He made the Tudor dynasty, and
his name is buried under his own creation."

So ends our little story,--such are the momentous issues, that fill
the mind's eye, amid this rural quietness, as our steps make homeward.
Evening is approaching, and leaving the interesting precincts of
North-Bradley church, our path back to Trowbridge,--discerned afar by
its hood of smoke,--leads through some pleasant meadows by way of
Suthwyke. Here we halt for a moment to take a final look at the old
place, and first home of Stafford in these parts. If deserted, one
after another, by its antient possessors, it now appears shorn of the
original dignity that man's transitory occupation once conferred upon
it, and of which nothing but a memory remains, Nature, unchanging,
still continues to adorn it with her charms, and specially so just at
present, for the trees in the orchard that skirts the Court are in
full bloom, some of them "white as a sheet with blooth" (as the old
Saxon idiom of the west-country peasantry expressively describes it),
and others loaded with clusters of variously expanded chalices of all
shades of that inimitable pink, the which--for want of other
satisfactory description,--we are content to call "apple-blossom."

There, across the moat, lived the first Sir Humphrey,--this we
know,--but what voice shall come back from the Past, and point us to
the site of the cottage, wherein the future Archbishop--his presumed
son--first saw the light? All is silent.

Of the last resting-places of the Staffords of Suthwyke, greater
certainty exists, and widely divided are they all in death.

The two successive Sir Humphreys, their wives, and a stray descendant,
sleep where stood a venerable monastic church, on the shores of the
Atlantic, in southern Dorset; the unfortunate, headless Earl, lies in
Glastonbury's great Abbey in central Somerset; but the record of their
graves has perished with them. Not so the memorials that perpetuate
the memories of the Archbishop's mother and her famous boy. She
received honoured burial, presumably amid her native scenes, and, it
may be, among her own kindred, here in this little sanctuary in north
Wilts; but her distinguished son found sepulture far away in Kent, in
the glorious cathedral, whose throne he filled, and among those whose
names are entwined with the greatest traditions of the land, and
within the precincts of its most sacred place, near where his
canonized predecessor meekly met his death at the hands of savage men,
and thenceforward named for all time as

"THE TRANSEPT OF THE MARTYRDOM."

Stranger, who through these dim sepulchral aisles,
Strayest in silence 'mid the mighty dead,
Lo, History's tongue here Time's fleet ear beguiles,
Great memories rise at every footstep's tread;--
Entombed in peace, repose, life's tumult o'er,
Two famous prelates from the distant west,
One, Suthwyke's son,--though graven found no more,
Hear thou his erstwhile record, and request;--

"_Whose dust concealeth thou, O ponderous stone?
Marble declare;--John Stafford was his name;--
In whose seat sat he?--on the Primate's throne,
Illustrious there, from Bath with mitred fame:--
For Chief so great, pray, now from life laid down,
The Virgin born may grant him golden crown._"

[Illustration: BRASS OF SIR JOHN ARUNDELL, ST. COLUMB-MAJOR.]

"THEY DID CAST HIM."

A pleasantly representative English look has the irregular,
disjointed, yet withal eminently picturesque little town of Tisbury,
viewed from the acclivity of the railway station.

On the one side a group of cottages, and fine trees planted high on
the shoulder of the hill, shews well against the distant sky-line, and
patches of houses--broken in their midst by the principal hostelry of
the place, staringly obtrusive in the most modern brick and white,
perched at the top of the straggling street that leads up to
it,--carry the eye across to the further fringe of the elevation on
the other side, where an ecclesiastical looking edifice, gabled and
pinnacled, cuts into the ether and balances the picture.

Low in the valley on the extreme right, some very old, and, evidently
from this distance, unmistakably important buildings are gathered
together, attesting the presence of the chief domicile of the place in
days of yore, and still retaining much of their antient consequence
with old gateway, great kitchen, and turreted chimney, and vast barn
two hundred feet long, with roof arched and high as a cathedral,--the
antient Grange, or Place, and country seat of the Abbess of
Shaftesbury.

Thus much for the mid-distance of the scene; an equally
representative, and in some peculiarities unique fore-ground is at our
feet.

Centrally almost, comes the Church--large, substantial, and
well-windowed--with a curious, but now-a-day unfortunately very
common, half-antient half-modern look, exhibiting a low massive tower
rising from its centre, capped with a pseudo-classic lantern, pierced
with four large, circular, winking clock-face apertures. It stands in
a well-kept churchyard, ornamented by some noble yew trees, and around
two sides of it runs a road, skirted with low antient buildings,
picturesquely gabled and chimnied, and dating from Tudor times.

Immediately on the right of the church, and jostling, almost vulgarly
invading the sacred precincts of the churchyard, which it adjoins,
rises the obtrusive bulk of a huge brewery, with accompanying chimney
stalk, as big as the church itself, and almost as venerable
looking,[36] a pertinent illustration of the contiguity, so often
sarcastically associated in one of our modern political cries.

[36] Of late it has been considerably rebuilt, and "dappered up"
as the Dorsetshire folk express it, to newness and smartness of
appearance.

On the left of the church, but at further distance, and pleasantly
situated on an acclivity, is an immense well-built union workhouse,
larger than either.

Strange company these, materially and metaphorically, and eminently
characteristic of our modern civilization, the brewery and the
workhouse, with the church between them, and suggestive of many
thoughts;--of clamorous interest too even in this little town, in this
passing hour, as announcements in large letters attest that meet the
eye of the wayfaring man, tarrying here about.

But leaving these present-day regions of noisy morality, and all
"burning questions" akin, to other disciples, be the purpose of our
quiet enjoyment to-day of a fairer and more gracious kind, as we note
peradventure the career, and seek it may be the association and
historic companionship of one who trod the troubled path of life in
the past, and endeavour--however imperfectly--to brighten his memory
for a season.

A short leisurely stroll from the station leads us by the great shrine
dedicated to the Bacchus of our modern Briton, and we halt in front of
the gate opening to the path leading to the north porch of the large
church immediately before us. But ere we enter, we pause to take a
momentary glance at the long line of semi-ecclesiastical,
almshouse-looking buildings with Tudor gables and high chimnies that
skirt the opposite side of the road, and from one of which the civil
custodian of the church, in response to our enquiries, emerges.

From him we learn that the house he dwells in was probably antiently
the Priest's dwelling, who was perhaps a monk appointed by the Abbess
of Shaftesbury to whom a large part of the manor of Tisbury belonged,
if not also the patronage of the benefice. In making some excavations
behind it a few years since, the skeletons of several persons were
found, on one skull the hair remained very perfect, but subsided to
dust the instant it was uncovered, as if shrinking from the sacrilege
of the intrusive eye and curiosity of the present. The building may
also have been a Cell attached to Shaftesbury Abbey, and this spot the
last resting-place of the solitary religious, once resident within it.

The pavement of the path through the churchyard leading to the church
is also strongly representative of modern destructive notions, and
exhibits,--although it traverses what we should regard from its
associations as sacred precincts,--a true example of the now-a-day
"way of the world." It is floored with the older memorial stones of
the departed that rest, now un-named, around, and the tear-wrought
memories they were charged to perpetuate, callously trod under the
foot of man, and in sure process of ruthless obliteration. "They are
only very old stones," said our cicerone in answer to our
protest,--"families all gone and no one to look after them,"--exactly
so, thought we with a half-sigh mingling with the echo of the
Ploughman's line, ringing a presaging knell over the fate of our
possible memory, when, as here, some day and perhaps

"--no distant date,
Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives elate,"

and this outrage on the memories of the departed, not the _best_
preparation altogether for entrance into the temple of Him, whose love
knoweth no change, and whose remembrance faileth not for the children
of men, more enduring than Job's yearning for graven words with iron
pen in the rock for ever, or even as vigorous Toplady puts it in
glorious anticipation,--

"My name from the palms of His hands,
Eternity will not erase."

Inside, the church has a somewhat desolate look,[37] and no antient
memorial catches the eye, except two small brass effigies of a
Franklin or Merchant of Henry the Seventh's days, in long tunic with
scrip buckled to his waist, and his wife with pointed head-dress and
embroidered girdle, riven from their sepulchral stone and nailed to
the wall; an early denizen it may be of the grand old domicile of
Place. A noticeable and somewhat unique feature however must not be
forgotten,--the cover of the font, pyramidal in shape, of oak panelled
and crocketted, and richly gilded. There were formerly two screens
across the transepts, but they have disappeared. There are fine roofs
to the side aisles, on the bosses are the Sacred Names, and the date
1595. A curious circumstance here may be mentioned, the tower has
three times been struck by lightning, once in 1762, again in 1795, and
also of late years,--and this doubtless accounts for the incongruous
style of its lantern-shape upper storey.

[37] It has recently been considerably restored.

But the chief historic association of the church, and what has led our
wandering feet here to furnish a text to hang our little story on, is
found in the chancel, though very little comparatively is to be seen
there even, by the uninitiated as things at present are, to give
direction to his thoughts.

Tisbury tells of Arundell! Such is the first suggestive thought to him
of the west-country that cometh to that little rural town, and
specially in this chancel, beneath whose pavement the dust of the
earlier members of one of its most distinguished descents is at rest.
But the home-land of that antient race, so happily and allusively
named after our gentle summer visitant,--the graceful-flighted
"chimney-haunting" swallow,--is not here.

Not on the boundless arid chalk plains, on whose rocky skirt the
swallow of the west has with kindred instinct migrated, seek we his
parent nest. In the dusky twilight of our national history we trace
probably his earliest haunts, chronicled in the great accompt of the
Norman Conqueror, as then holding considerable possessions amid the
rich plains of Somerset and breezy uplands of Dorset. Then we hear of
him nestling in a green combe in leafy Devon, and anon occupying a
"coigne of 'vantage" on the southern fringe of tor-crested Dartmoor,
and where his name still clings though its possessor has long since
fled. From thence in the days of the earlier Plantagenet kings, he
winged his flight across the deep-banked Tamar into far Cornubia,
where the soft mists of the Atlantic and warm southern sunshine
alternate, bathe the granite bastions that defend her valleys, and
there finally settled Arundell, there built he his parent nest and
reared his "procreant cradle," and thenceforward he and his for
centuries flourished and multiplied in great honour and ample estate,
until his name for power and influence was styled _the Great_, and it
became a household word in the county of his adoption.

But wealth and honour, not even when allied with teeming descendants
scattered around and settled in divers descents seemingly to defend
it, can perpetuate a race,

"There is no armour against fate,"

and to the mutation and decay, impartially entailed on human destiny,
both peer and peasant alike are equally doomed.

So, in Cornwall, for centuries, the generations of Arundell succeeded
each other at Lanherne and Trerice, the great twin stems of this noble
stirpe, and spread and rooted themselves, in divers offshoots located
near. But gradually that name, although surnamed _the Great_, and
their descendants, one after another, dwindled away under the breath
of Time, until its sound became an echo and a tradition only, in the
regions of its olden home, and finally became extinct.

In 1701, the _Great_ Arundell of Lanherne (from them the dormant
Arundells beneath our feet were descended), last of his name of the
elder house, died, and a distaff only followed him to his grave. She
was wedded and the mother of a son,--but his name was not
Arundell,--but on him his grandfather settled all his estates, and the
heritage of his antient name.

Again the succession was denied, daughters only were born to him, and
distaff succeeded distaff. One of them sleeps below, presumably in
life a happy and unique fate befell her, as by her marriage with Lord
Arundell was united the two descents of Lanherne and Wardour, and her
name will probably recur to our thoughts again before our little story
ends.

Seventy years--just a spell of human life--later, in 1773, the final
representative of the almost equally distinguished descent of Trerice
(they had been ennobled by Charles II. in 1664), John, fourth and last
Baron Arundell of Trerice, passed to that bourne, from which no
traveller, however distinguished, returns. It is curious that both he,
and his noble wife--who was a sister of the Earl of Strafford and
pre-deceased him--both found their sepulchre far eastward of their
native home, and repose in the chancel of the church of
Sturminster-Marshall in Dorset, not very far from this.

But to return to Arundell of Tisbury--yet we must still digress for a
time--and to this chancel, where, beginning three centuries ago, and
descending from him of whom we propose to have something to say, lie
the ashes of the ancestors of the green branch of this antient stock
located not far off, still nobly upholding its olden name and fame,
although in its earlier days it had to struggle fiercely through some
of the direst vicissitudes that environ human life, to perpetuate its
existence.

To translate our thoughts, once more, for a short time to Cornwall,
and recall the then representative of the Lanherne descent, Sir John
Arundell, knt., a man great at the Courts of king Henry VII. and his
bluff son Henry VIII. From both those monarchs he received
distinguished marks of favour, being successively nominated a Knight
of the Bath, a Knight of the Garter, and also for his valour at
Térouenne and Tournay at the celebrated "battle of the Spurs" created
a Knight-Banneret.

He was well descended. On his father's side of the family escutcheon,
among other venerable Cornish bearings, was displayed the blue field
and _golden bend_ of the antient Carminow,--insignia for dignity
rivalling the blazon of the distinguished Scrope,--and quartered also
with it, there appeared, in happy alliance with the swallows of
Arundell, the garland of kindred _martlets_ that fringe the shield of
the olden race of Chidiock in Dorset. His well-born mother was a
daughter of Sir John Dinham of Hartland, a noble Devonian name of that
era, her brother, to whom she was coheir, being John, Lord Dinham, so
created by king Edward IV., 28 February, 1466, also like her husband
included within the circle of the Garter, and holding high office
under Henry VII.; she could also claim the blood of illustrious
Courtenays among her ancestors.

Sir John Arundell by marriage allied himself with families of great
influence, his first wife being the Lady Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas
Grey, Lord Marquis of Dorset, step-son to Edward IV., and half-brother
to the Queen of Henry VII.,--her mother being the last descendant and
sole heiress to a great but unfortunate Devonshire name, Cicely
Bonville. Secondly, he wedded Katharine, daughter of Sir Thomas
Grenville, a knightly and warlike race of the first renown in north
Cornwall, and sister of Jane, who was married to his kinsman the other
Sir John Arundell of Trerice. His aunt, his father's sister Elizabeth,
was married to Sir Giles, who was afterward created Lord Daubeney, and
K.G.,--a man like himself of high rank at the Court of Henry VII.

In 1506 he was appointed Receiver of the Duchy of Cornwall, a position
of great honour and influence in his native county, and in 1509 the
office was confirmed to him for life.

Thus by birth, alliance, honours, appointments, and possessions, he
seems to have been amply qualified to sustain the appellation bestowed
on his ancestor, that of being designated _the Great Arundell of the
West_.

He died in 1544-5, and a superb brass exhibiting the effigies of
himself and two wives, his children, and elaborate armorial insignia,
still exists in the church of St. Columb Major, in Cornwall, but
whether he was buried there, or in St. Mary Woolnoth in London, there
is some doubt,--but the balance of testimony inclines toward St.
Columb.[38]

[38] Refer to pages 67-8-9 for a further account of this knight,
and detailed description of his memorial brass.

Take breath, friend of mine, after the shadow of this great and much
honoured Tudor magnate has passed across the screen of the past, dimly
lit by the illumination of your thoughts,--for a broad and striking
glimpse follows in his wake, of what we are sometimes apt to term the
"good old times" opens upon us, as we rapidly picture the chief events
that characterized the days of Thomas Arundell his second son, and the
first of Wardour, and glance at his companions at the Courts of Henry
VIII. and Edward VI., together with those of his immediate descendants
in the succeeding reigns of the two last Tudor sovereigns.

If those eventful times were not "good" in the large acceptance of the
term, there was a large infusion of stern unflinching reality within
them. The influence of strong mental power meets us everywhere, men
aspired to be men,--sons of Anak in their resolutions,--and the views
they took and combated for, were to them no myths,--nor did the almost
absolute certainty of the fate of the martyr's stake, the headsman's
block, or the confiscator's hand, if the enterprise should fail, deter
or daunt an inflexible and often relentless purpose, dictated perhaps
by the call of religious sentiment, or animated by the promptings of
high personal ambition alone, or cast it may be, in the mould of real
or imaginary patriotic duty.

Contrasted with such, our puny doings of the present offer suggestive
difference to the life-poised movements carried out by the deep-souled
resolves that sustained the doings of the men, who passed through the
grim ordeal of the blood-gripped days of Wolsey and Somerset,--some
episodes of which, occurring during the reign of Henry VIII. and his
son the boy-king, we propose lightly to glance at,--when the
'shapings' of the history of our native land lay in rather grander
purpose than the now-a-day trivialities and companionship ravings of
our modern political 'stump.'

Sir John Arundell, of Lanherne, who died in 1545, by his first wife
the Lady Elizabeth Grey, left two sons,--Sir John the elder, a country
gentleman located at the old family seat of Lanherne, and Sir Thomas,
ancestor of the Wardour descent, and the subject of our little story.

Sir Thomas, born probably about 1500, was as a younger son sent early
a-field to seek his fortune, and for that purpose introduced, it may
be by his father, to the precincts of the Court of Henry VIII., where
afterward he appears to have spent much of his time amid its
phantasmagoria of pleasures and horrors, ecclesiastical, military, and
civil.

Beginning, if not exactly with actual attendance at the Court itself,
but doubtless intended as a stepping-stone to it, we first hear of him
as attached to the service of the next potential person of the realm,
the subtle and ambitious Wolsey, in whose retinue he was appointed as
one of the Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber to my Lord Legate and
Cardinal, with whom he was on friendly terms, and who probably brought
him into notice.

The pompous semi-royal state in which this notable ecclesiastic lived
and moved, even in that extravagant age, is almost incredible. His
setting off to France on one of his diplomatic journeys is thus
described,--

"Then marched he from his own house at Westminster, through all
London, over London Bridge, having before him a great number of
gentlemen, three in a rank, with velvet coats, and the most part
of them with chains of gold about their necks; and all his yeomen
followed him with noblemen's and gentlemen's servants, all in
orange tawny coats, with the cardinal's hat and T and C, for
Thomas Cardinal, embroidered upon all the coats, as well of his
own servants, as all the rest of the gentlemen's servants; and
his sumpter mules, which were twenty or more in number. And when
all his carriages and carts, and other of his train were passed
before, he rode like a Cardinal very sumptuously with the rest of
his train, on his own mule, with a spare mule and a spare horse
trapped in crimson following him. And before him he had his two
great crosses of silver, his two great pillars of silver, the
King's broad seal of England, and his Cardinal's hat, and a
gentleman carrying his cloak-bag, which was made of scarlet,
embroidered with gold. Thus passed he forth through London, and
every day on his journey he was thus furnished, having his
harbingers in every place before, which prepared lodgings for him
and his train."

All this was not much beyond the state this proud churchman ordinarily
assumed, and it leaves little room to wonder why Henry VIII. and
Wolsey could not exist together, nor of church and state being
straightway at issue, nor why not long afterward the knock of a
heart-broken monk at the gate of the Abbey of Leicester was the knell
of his own order in England.

Wolsey passed out of his troubled existence in November, 1530, and in
the year following, 1531, an event took place that at once placed Sir
Thomas among the foremost men of that era, this was his marriage with
a scion of the noble house of Norfolk,--Margaret, eldest daughter of
Lord Edmund Howard.

He was the third son of Thomas Howard, second Duke of Norfolk, K.G.,
who died 21 May, 1524, by his first wife Elizabeth, daughter and
coheir of Sir Frederick Tilney.

Concerning this Duke a few words. "On May 13, 13 Henry VIII., 1521,"
says Collins,--

"he performed the office of Lord High Steward on the trial of
Edward, Duke of Buckingham, and gave sentence of death on him,
whereat he was so much concerned, as to shed tears."

Then he further continues,--

"In 14 Henry VIII. (the next year) he--the Duke--obtained a grant
in special tail, and to his son, Thomas, Earl of Surrey, of the
manors of Welles, Shyringham-Stafford, Bannyngham, Warham, and
Weveton in the County of Suffolk, with the advowsons of their
churches; part of the possessions of the before specified Edward,
Duke of Buckingham, attainted."

This Duke of Buckingham was the son of the ill-fated personage of our
little narrative, executed at Salisbury;[39]--he fell, it is related,
like his father, by domestic treachery, and the enmity of Wolsey, on
a most frivolous charge, and at his trial thus made answer to the
"tears" of the Lord High Steward,--

"My Lord of Norfolk,--you have said as a traitor should be said
to; but I was never any. I nothing malign you, for what you have
done to me, but the eternal God forgive you my death. I shall
never sue to the king for life, though he be a gracious prince;
and more grace may come from him than I desire, and so I desire
you and all my fellows to pray for me."

[39] See page 111.

Such is the recorded reply of the doomed, high-souled captive, to the
"tears" of his fellow duke, and condemning judge; whose sincerity of
grief on the occasion may be estimated by the subsequent fact of his
soliciting for the gift of a large portion of the victim's possessions
the year following. But the Dukes of Norfolk of those days appear to
have been among the most unscrupulous men of that era. Then we learn
with almost incredulous surprise that Thomas, the third Duke of
Norfolk, and son of the Lord High Steward, who presided at
Buckingham's trial, married the victim's daughter Elizabeth;--their
son was the accomplished and ill-fated Earl of Surrey, beheaded
twenty-five years afterward in the same reign, and on equally flimsy
pretence.

To resume. Lord Edmund Howard married Joyce, daughter of Sir Thomas
Culpeper of Hollingbourne, Kent. He is described as being

"Marshal of the Horse, in the battle of Flodden-field, 5 Henry
VIII. when he, and his elder brother the Lord Thomas Howard
leading the van-guard, this Lord Edmund was in some distress,
through the singular valour of the Earls of Lennox and Argyle;
but the Lord Dacres coming to his succour with one Heron, the
fight was renewed and the Scots vanquished. In 12 Henry VIII., on
that famous interview which that King had with Francis I. of
France, where all feats of arms were performed between Ardres and
Guisnes for thirty days, he was one of the challengers on the
part of England."

On the occasion of his marriage, and to give his son position
befitting his rank as a country gentleman, his father, Sir John
Arundell, settled on Sir Thomas and his wife, partly in jointure, a
dozen or so manors in the Counties of Dorset and Somerset. In 1532,
and again in 1533, he filled the office of Sheriff of Dorset.

But it was the alliance itself with the influential family of Howard,
destined immediately afterward to be so closely related to the crown
itself, and in perilous nearness to the grim and capricious Henry,
that must have given him considerable importance, advanced him to the
front rank among the courtiers, and afforded him ample opportunity to
promote his position and interests, both as to honours and wealth.

These were not slow of arriving. In May, 1533, Henry VIII. was wedded
to 'sweet' ill-fated Anne Boleyn. This brought Sir Thomas into his
first direct relationship with that king, to whom, through his wife,
he now stood in the position of cousin, the new Queen being the
daughter of her aunt Elizabeth (sister of Lord Edmund Howard), wife of
Sir Thomas Boleyn, K.G.--afterward created Viscount Rochford, and Earl
of Wiltshire and Ormond.

Our next glimpse of him is within the royal precincts, and being the
recipient of an honour, amid the company of some of the most
distinguished men at Court, on the occasion of the crowning of that
unfortunate Queen. Among the "Knights of the Bathe, made at the
coronation of the most excellent Princesse Queen Anne the 25 yere of
the reign of Kinge Henry the Eight on Whitsonday the last day of May,
1533; (when) shee was crown'd at Westminster,"--twelfth on the list
occurs the name of Sir Thomas Arundell.

Just three years afterward and on the 19th of the same month of May,
1536, Queen Anne Boleyn was from the Tower, "a little before noon, led
down to the green, where the young grass and the first daisies of
summer were freshly bursting into sunshine. A single cannon stood
loaded on the battlements, the motionless cannoneer was ready, with
smoking linstock at his side; and when the crawling hand upon the dial
of the great Tower clock touched the mid-day hour, the cannon would
tell London that all was over. The Yeomen of the Guard were there, and
a crowd of citizens; the Lord Mayor too, and the deputies of the
guilds, and the sheriffs, and the aldermen; they were come to see a
spectacle which England had never seen before,--a head which had worn
the crown falling under the sword of the executioner."[40]

[40] Froude.

But there was a much more interested listener for the fatal boom of
that cannon than any heart-struck citizen of London, as we learn
further, "An old tradition strongly depicts the impatience with which
Henry expected her death. On the fatal morning he went to hunt in
Epping Forest, and while he was at breakfast his attendants observed
he was anxious and thoughtful. But at last they heard the report of a
distant gun--a preconcerted signal. 'Ah! it is done,' cried he,
starting up--'the business is done! Uncouple the dogs, and let us
follow the sport.' In the evening he returned gaily from the chase,
and on the following morning he married Anne's maid of honour, Jane
Seymour, who on Whitsunday, the 29th, clad in royal habiliments
appeared in public as Queen."[41]

[41] _Comprehensive History of England._ Macfarlane and Thompson.

So perished poor Queen Anne Boleyn, niece to Sir Thomas. A fortnight
or so before her death, on her arrival at the Tower, she agonizedly
asked of Cromwell, "I pray you tell me where my Lord Rochford ys? and
I told her I saw hym afore dyner in the Cort. O wher is my swete
brother? I said I left hym at York Place: and so I dyd." Never to see
him again--he was beheaded on Tower Hill two days previous to her own
execution.

This fresh marriage of the king with Jane Seymour, the sister of the
man with whom Sir Thomas was eventually implicated and suffered,
continues incidentally, pertinent interest to our little story. Queen
Jane Seymour, although she escaped the wretched fate of her immediate
predecessor and successor in the royal preference, fell a victim to an
even more painful death, at the birth of her son, which took place 12
October, 1537.

At the ceremonial of the christening of the infant prince Sir Thomas
was present, and also, as a matter of course, the child's uncle, Sir
Edward Seymour (afterward Duke of Somerset and Lord Protector), on
that occasion one of the most honoured guests. Little wot these men as
they gazed on, and took part in the splendid ceremony, that those
helpless, motherless, baby hands were destined at some future and not
very distant day to sign their death warrants, which consigned them to
the scaffold, and both for alleged participation in the same offence.

Henry VIII. having become tired of, and also got divorced from Anne of
Cleves, and Cromwell, the promoter of the distasteful marriage, having
been summarily disposed of by the usual method of the axe, another
event in the king's matrimonial projects was about to happen, which
brought Sir Thomas into still closer relationship with him. Henry had
this time set his eyes on Katharine Howard, a daughter of Lord Edmund
Howard, cousin to the unfortunate Anne Boleyn, and sister to
Elizabeth, wife of Sir Thomas Arundell. She was proclaimed Queen 8
August, 1540, but the king had been privately married to her some time
before. Thus the knight now stood in the double capacity of being by
marriage both cousin and brother-in-law to his most august and cruelly
inclined sovereign, by whom Sir Thomas was made 'Chancellor' to the
new Queen.

This relationship to Henry must have given him great influence, and as
the spoliation of the Abbeys and Monastic institutions was then busily
going forward, he would have good opportunity of advancing his suit,
or claims for a portion of the large landed possessions of these
institutions then being distributed with lavish hand. In this
distribution Sir Thomas appears at different times to have acquired by
grant and purchase a considerable share. Concerning this a short
notice presently.

Queen Katharine Howard at the time of her marriage with Henry could
not have been more than twenty years of age. Two short years only
passed by, and then a fearful charge of similar nature to that which
had sent her hapless cousin to the block, was alleged against herself,
and on the 13 February, 1542, after almost unexampled mental
suffering, she perished in like manner on the Tower green. With her
died also, and by the same means, Jane, Lady Rochford, the wife of
Queen Anne Boleyn's brother George. All three of these headless women
were laid side by side in the Tower Chapel.

Thus was severed by like circumstances, in each case equally
deplorable, the living tie that had connected Sir Thomas Arundell with
his dread sovereign. He appears, however, to have been endowed with
the rare faculty of keeping himself clear of the difficulties that
would naturally arise amid such mournful conditions, and to have
enjoyed apparently the friendship, if not the confidence of the grim
king, and which does not appear to have been afterward disturbed. This
was manifest by what followed.

In 1541,--which must have been during the lifetime of Katharine
Howard, and while she was Henry's Queen,--Sir Thomas purchased of the
king for £761--14--10, the Manor and Grange of Tisbury, late the
property of the Abbey of Shaftesbury, and advowson of the living, the
manor and advowson of Dorrington in Wilts, and sundry other lands.

In 1545,--this was also the year his father, Sir John Arundell,
died,--King Henry VIII., by letters patent, granted to him a large
number of manors, late the possessions of the Abbey of Shaftesbury, in
the counties of Wilts, Dorset, and Somerset (including also probably
the site of the Abbey), and other property in London.

The Benedictine Abbey, or Nunnery of Shaftesbury, was one of the most
antient religious foundations in the west of England, and existed
probably before the time of King Alfred, who was a great benefactor,
and one of its principal Founders, about A.D. 888. "It was first
dedicated," says Hutchins,

"to the _Blessed Virgin Mary_, but it lost that name, at least
for several ages, upon the translation hither of the body of St.
Edward the Martyr, who was murdered at Corfe-Castle 18 March,
978, and first clandestinely buried at Wareham, whence, according
to Leland, he was next year, or as others on better grounds say,
three years afterwards removed to this abbey by Elpher, or
Alpher, duke of Mercia. This unfortunate king being esteemed a
martyr, and canonized a saint, his shrine was much resorted to by
superstitious pilgrims, and persons of all ranks and qualities,
and even by some of our kings, particularly Canute who died here.
On account of the burial of St. Edward, the abbey and the church
received their names from him; and the abbess was styled Abbess
of St. Edward, and the very town almost lost its old name, and
was called for some time _Burgus Sancti Edwardi_, and
_Edwardstowe_."

Upwards of thirty abbesses from the foundation, presided over this
important community, to its surrender by Elizabeth Zouch, its last
Abbess, to the King Henry VIII., 23 March, 1539, when there were
fifty-five nuns within it.

"It was one of the largest and best endowed nunneries in England,
except Syon in Middlesex, its revenues at the suppression being
estimated at between eleven and fourteen hundred pounds per
annum. This occasioned a proverb, mentioned by Fuller in his
_Church History_,--'That if the Abbot of Glastonbury might marry
the Abbess of Shaftesbury, their heir would have more land than
the King of England.' The abbess was of such quality, that she
was one of the four who held of the king by an entire barony, and
had by tenure privilege of being summoned to parliament, &c.,
though upon account of their sex it was omitted. They had writs
directed to them, to send their quota of soldiers into the field,
in proportion to their knight's fees. The three others were those
of Barking in Essex, St. Mary in Winchester, and Wilton."

Thus much for the Abbess, her wealth, importance and high station; the
buildings of the Abbey, and Abbey church, appear to have been of
commensurate grandeur, but, continues Hutchins,--

"There now remain not the least vestiges of it. It seems to have
stood parallel with Holy Trinity churchyard, which anciently
belonged to it, at the east end of the abbey, on Park-Hill, as
appears by bones and coffins found there. It was the glory and
ornament of the town, the mother church, and almost the only
place of sepulture, there being but one ancient in any of the
present churches, which is in St. Peter's, and seems to have been
removed hence. It was a most magnificent building, if we may
judge from the traditions the townsmen retain of its largeness
and height, and from the spire, which Camden and others, derive
the name of the town. By its great height, and advantageous
situation on the top of the hill, it must have had a very fine
effect, and been seen over a great part of the counties of Dorset
and Somerset. It is greatly to be lamented it was not left
standing and made parochial, being so great an ornament to the
town and county.

"The arms of the Monastery were, _Azure, a cross between four
martlets or_,--Dr. Tanner in his _Notitia Monastica_ says they
were, _Azure, on a pale sable, cotised argent, three roses or_.
The former are in Wolveton house, and are those commonly given to
King Alfred."

The fine buildings of the Abbey having been demolished, St. Peter's
church in Shaftesbury appears to be the only building of any
size,--and this not very large,--of antient date now left remaining,
and is the "mother, principal and presentative" church of the place.
Hutchins enumerates nearly a dozen little churches and numerous
chantries that once had their station at Shaftesbury, clustering
around the Monastery, the major portion of which seem now to have
disappeared. St. Peter's is of late character, and very plain
architectural detail, erected probably toward the end of the reign of
Henry VII. The single ornamental portion is the cornice or frieze
toward the street, temp. Henry VIII., on which appears the _double
rose_, _portcullis_, _pomegranate_, arms of the See of Winchester,
some other local coats, a merchant's mark, &c.

Within, on the altar step, is the only monumental remembrance left of
the Abbey, and apparently removed hither from it, a large blue stone,
having in the centre a small brass plate, now almost obliterated, with
this inscription as copied by Hutchins,--

=Sub isto saxo tumulat' corpus Steph'i Payne, armiger', fil' et
hered' Nichi' Payne, arm', quond' seneschali hujus monasterii,
gui obiit xiiij die mens' Decembris: Anno D'ni m.ccccc.viij:
cujus a'ie p'piciet' altissimus De'. Amen.=

The indents of four shields, two at the top and two at the bottom of
the stone, are visible.

Stephen Payne held the office of Seneschal to the Abbess, which
probably meant her Steward or Bailiff for the Abbey property. Of him,
says Hutchins,--

"Here (Shaftesbury) was another freehold held 2 Henry VIII.,
1511, by Stephen Payne at his death; namely--seven messuages,
three gardens in Shaston, of the Abbess; forty acres of land in
Bellchalwel of the Earl of Northumberland; and seventy-eight
acres of land in the hundred of Alcester, of the Abbot of
Evesham, by rent of five shillings."

In the chancel window are two escutcheons;--1. _Azure, a dolphin
embowed_ or (FITZJAMES OF LEWSTON), impaling, _Bendy of eight or and
azure, within a bordure of the first_ (NEWBURGH OF WINFRITH), the
shield encircled by a riband, but the inscription destroyed.

"The ancient family of Fitzjames," continues Hutchins,

"was formerly seated at Redlynch. Sir John Fitzjames, knt., son
of James Fitzjames, married Alice, daughter of John Newburgh of
East Lullworth, Esq., and was father to Sir John; Richard, bishop
successively of Rochester, Chichester and London; and Aldred,
ancestor of the Lewston line. The elder branch has been long
extinct, but produced many eminent men. Sir John Fitzjames was
lord chief justice of the king's bench thirteen years; died 30
Henry VIII., 1539."

On the other are,--quarterly, 1 and 4, _Argent, a barrulet gules,
between four bars gemelles wavy azure_; 2 and 3, _Argent, a chevron
gules, between three castles sable_.

Two further escutcheons display, one the emblem of the Trinity with
customary legends, and the other--what is seldom seen in painted
glass, being usually found sculptured on the frieze, or on the
capitals of the pillars, at or over the entrance to chantry or
chancel,--the imagery of

THE FIVE WOUNDS.

Look at yon carven shield,
Above the chantry door,
No blazoned pride bedecks its field,
But emblems five sprent o'er.

There are His pierced feet,--
There are His mangled hands,--
And wounded heart,--whose latest beat
Ceased at love's sweet commands.

="Fyve wellys"=--there symbolled trace,
Hushing this mortal strife,--
"=Of pitty, merci, comfort, gracy,
And everlastingh lyffe.="

The shepherd monk of old,
Well his vocation knew,
Set it o'er gateway of the fold,
That all his flock may view.

Ere ranged in order close,
They gathered round his board,
Signs of His sorrows, sufferings, woes,
With thankfulness adored.

Seen with unseen allied,--
Trusting their happy fate,
Should some day see them glorified,
Keystone of heaven's gate.

Wayfarer of to-day,
The same tale runs for thee,
As in the ages far away,
And for all time to be.

As Sir Thomas Arundell did not get the royal grant until two years
after the dissolution of the Abbey, it is probable the work of
destruction on the fine building was considerably advanced, as but
little time as a rule was allowed to elapse before the demolition
commenced, anything that could be turned into money, such as the
bells, lead, &c., sold, and the walls pulled down and carried away for
building purposes.

Respecting this we further learn from Hutchins,--

"Tradition says, that one Arundell, steward to the Earl of
Pembroke, in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's reign, built a
large house in the town for himself, out of the Abbey materials.
This seems to have been the same which Mr. Coker speaks of, when
he says, 'The greatest ornament of the town is a fair turretted
house of the Lord Arundell of Wardour.' But it is most probable
it was built by Sir Thomas Arundell, or his son Sir Matthew, out
of the ruins of the Abbey. It stands in Bymport Street, and has
been a public house, it is now almost pulled down. In 1747, on
the chimney piece were these arms,--1. ARUNDELL, _with crescent
for difference_.--2. Quarterly, 1 and 4, _Gules, four lozenges
ermine_ (DINHAM), 2 and 3, _Gules, three arches conjoined,
argent_ (DE ARCHES).--3. CHIDIOCK.--4. _Sable (azure), a bend,
with label of three points or, for difference_ (CARMINOW)."

This was not all the property Sir Thomas appears to have had assigned
him at the dissolution of religious houses. In 1547, Henry VIII.
granted him the house and site of the Priory (or College) of Slapton
in South Devon, "except all the lead upon the said College other than
the gutters, and the lead in the windows; except all the bells and
ornaments"--the rectory, also that of Loddiswell, and three other
manors in Devon, Somerset, and Cornwall. Although his wife's sister
Queen Katharine had been executed four years previously, he is
described as 'Chancellor' to her.

Associated with Sir Thomas Arundell at the Court of Henry VIII., and
also in his country possessions in the west, was his relative Henry
Daubeney, Earl of Bridgwater, a most unfortunate man. He was the son
of Giles, Lord Daubeney, K.G., a trusted servant and soldier to Henry
VII.; the old seat and possessions of the family being at
South-Petherton, and later at Barrington Court near that town. Lord
Daubeney married Elizabeth, sister of Sir Thomas Arundell, K.B., of
Lanherne,--the father of Sir John Arundell, who was the father of the
Sir Thomas of our narrative,--Henry Daubeney, Earl of Bridgwater, his
only son, would therefore be Sir John's cousin.

But not only by kinship on his father's side, but also by a similar
relationship on his wife's, was the Earl closely connected with Sir
Thomas. Lord Bridgwater married secondly, Katharine Howard, daughter
of Thomas, second Duke of Norfolk, by his second wife Agnes Tilney.
She was therefore aunt to Sir Thomas' wife, being her mother's
half-sister.

The Countess of Bridgwater was greatly persecuted during the trial of
her niece Queen Katharine Howard, and almost every means was resorted
to to implicate her with that unfortunate woman. The Earl, her
husband, plunged into the vortex of expensive frivolities that
surrounded the Court of Henry VIII., and it is related irretrievably
crippled, if not finally ruined himself by extravagant display at the
Field of the Cloth of Gold. He died without issue, in seclusion and
comparative penury at the little rural parish of South-Perrott, near
Crewkerne, and was there buried 12 April, 1548,--his wife survived
him, and was interred in the Norfolk Chantry in Lambeth church, 11
May, 1554.[42]

[42] For further account of this Earl, and his father Lord
Daubeney, see "_Memorials of the West_," pages 173-220.

[Illustration: REGAL HERALDRY, TEMP. HENRY VIII., COWIC, EXETER.]

It was this double tie of relationship that doubtless led to the
important transactions with regard to the sale or transfer of a large
portion of the Earl's landed possessions to Sir Thomas Arundell, when
from time to time he had necessity; or it may be by family arrangement
to protect himself and wife from forfeiture, in those days of peril
and consequent attainder and confiscation.

In 1536-8-9 Henry, Lord Daubeney, conveyed to his _nephew_, Sir Thomas
Arundell, his manors of Tollard-Royal, Farnham, Long-Crichell,
Kershall, Goorsley, and Hampreston, with advowsons, &c., and Shaston,
Wimborne-Minster, Gussage-All-Saints, Tarrant-Gunville, and
Stubhampton, in the counties of Wilts and Dorset, with a clause "that
if Henry, Lord Daubeney, should die without heirs to his body, the
same should remain to the use of the said Sir Thomas Arundell and his
heirs for ever." In 1542 the Earl conveyed the manor of
South-Petherton to him. This included the manor and park of
Barrington, and the forest of Roche (Neroche?) the advowson, Chantry,
and free Chapel of South-Petherton, and of the Hundred, and lands at
Yarcombe, &c.

And this leads us to his last and most important purchase, that of the
Castle and Park of Wardour, on 4 July, 1 Edward VI., 1547.

Wardour Castle and its olden inhabiters have a special interest
interwoven in our little narratives, three or four of the subjects of
them, having successively, either occupied or possessed it.

About the year 1495 the Earl of Ormond granted a lease of it to the
giant Sir John, afterward Lord Cheney, K.G.,--the "unhorsed at
Bosworth,"--and it is not at all improbable that he may have died
there, as he was buried at the not very far-distant cathedral of
Salisbury.

Then on the 4 July, 14 Henry VII., 1499, three years after Lord
Cheney's death, Thomas, Earl of Ormond, sold the Castle of Wardour to
Robert, the first Lord Willoughby de Broke, "our Steward of
Household," and according to one account, he is said to have died
there, although his monument is found and he is probably buried at
Callington, in far-distant Cornwall.

Lord Willoughby de Broke and his descendants appear to have retained
possession of it until 1547, when his ultimate heiress Lady Elizabeth
Greville and her husband Sir Fulke disposed of it to Sir Thomas
Arundell.

Thus much, as a short notice of the principal landed possessions
acquired by Sir Thomas Arundell. Some by gift of his father, others by
arrangement with his uncle Lord Bridgwater, or by purchase from
different possessors, and a further large portion partly by
purchase,--if it may be so-called,--and partly probably by free grant
from the King, Henry VIII., the whole of which in the aggregate would
constitute Sir Thomas a wealthy man, and a west-country magnate of
leading position.

A curious circumstance becomes noticeable here. The sale and grants of
property acquired under Henry VIII. were the despoiled possessions of
the Church, the property of the suppressed and dismantled Abbey of
Shaftesbury, and dissolved Priory or College of Slapton. Yet the
Arundells (as also the Howards to whom they were so nearly allied)
were at the time, and still continue to be, specially distinguished by
their fealty to the Roman communion, the antient faith of their
fathers. This fact, however, does not seem to have hindered his
acceptance of what at the time, by common consent had been "set aside
for the Lord." To which it may be answered, if he had not acquired it,
many others were doubtless eagerly waiting for the chance; and it was
never likely to return to fulfil the original purpose of the donors.

Notwithstanding the dangers that surrounded the Court of Henry VIII.,
and the perilous proximity of relationship in which, by marriage, he
stood toward that monarch, specially amid the complications that arose
during the impeachments, trials, and sad deaths of the two Queens, his
wife's relatives; yet neither Sir Thomas, nor Lady Arundell, seems to
have been involved or suspected in any way, indeed, to the contrary,
as he appears subsequently to have experienced Henry's favour, it
being three years after Queen Katharine Howard's death, when he
received the grant of the Priory of Slapton from that king.

All this points to his being a prudent man, keeping aloof from the
dangerous intrigues continually arising, and he has been described as
a wise administrator. He was grandson of Cicely Bonville, the great
west-country heiress, and his mother Elizabeth names him as one of the
executors to her will, and therein describes him as "her trusty and
well-beloved son."

Before the reign of Henry VIII. closed, its last victim was led to the
scaffold, the accomplished Earl of Surrey, and nephew of Sir Thomas.
The Duke of Norfolk, his father, with cruel obduracy had presided over
the trial of his niece the unfortunate Queen Anne Boleyn, and now the
same fate had overtaken his son. The executioner was waiting for
himself also, but the unexpected death of Henry occurred just in time
to save him. The "Fair Geraldine" of the poet Earl was a cousin of Sir
Thomas on his mother's side, being the daughter of Gerald Fitzgerald,
Earl of Kildare, who married the Lady Eleanor, probably a younger
sister of the Lady Elizabeth Grey, mother of Sir Thomas.

With the conclusion of the reign of Henry VIII., the larger and
presumably, on the whole, happier portion of the life of Sir Thomas
Arundell may be said to have ended. The child-king, Edward VI., in
January, 1547, commenced his reign, and four short years only were
destined to pass before Sir Thomas was laid in a traitor's grave.

In 1549 a distinguished office was conferred on him, one that his
father had held before him, and of peculiar honour in his native
county, that of Receiver General of the Duchy of Cornwall.

This year, however, the first cloud appeared over his hitherto
fortunate career. Himself, with his brother Sir John Arundell of
Lanherne, were both suspected of being implicated in the rebellion of
their uncle Humphrey Arundell, Governor of St. Michael's Mount, "a man
well-esteemed for military services." This was the religious
insurrection, demanding the old ritual, and antagonistic to the
reformed service of the Church, which began in Cornwall, and gathering
strength as it advanced, laid ineffectual siege to Exeter, where,
however, the citizens, during their captivity, were reduced to great
straits. The insurgents then marched to meet Lord Russell, who was
stationed with some force at Honiton, but he defeated them with
considerable loss at Feniton (or Fenny) Bridges. They then retreated
to Clyst-Heath, near Exeter, where--

"they had brought with them a crucifix upon a cart, covered with
a canopy, and beset with crosses, tapers, banners, holy bread and
water, as a representation of those things for which they
fought."

At Clyst-Heath, Lord Gray with his troops, reinforced with those under
Lord Russell, dispersed the ignorant priest-led rustics with great
slaughter;--

"The dispersion of the insurgents was followed by the same
conduct on the part of the royal army, as if they had put to
route a foreign enemy in his own country, 'for the whole country
was then put to the spoil, and every soldier sought for his best
profit.'"

Sir Anthony Kingston, as Provost-Marshal of the king's army, was
commissioned to try and punish the delinquents, and his cruel and
brutal conduct was quite on an equality with that of the wretched
Jeffreys on a similar errand a century afterward;--

"Gibbets were set up in various places, on which great numbers of
the leaders of the rebellion were hanged. Others, and especially
Arundell, the chief captain, were carried to London, and there
executed. It was reckoned that about four thousand in all
perished by the sword or by the hands of the executioner, of
those engaged in this Devonshire (and Cornwall) insurrection."

Humphrey Arundell, their uncle, was conveyed to London and hanged at
Tyburn in January, 1549-50. And then it is recorded in the Council
book,--

"XXX. Jan., 1549-50. Sir Thomas Arundel, Knight, committed to the
Tower by order of the board."

And further in King Edward's journal,--

"1549. Sir Thomas Arundel and Sir John (his elder brother)
committed to the Tower for conspiracies in the west partes."

It is probable the Arundells, from religious motives only, sympathized
with the views of the insurgents, and were not actual promoters or
partakers in the movement, but on account of their kinship with the
leader of the revolt they were doubtless subjects of considerable
suspicion. There must, however, have apparently been other
circumstances besides this, which were deemed to affect Sir Thomas
unfavourably, for he does not appear to have been released from his
durance in the Tower after his committal until the 4th of October,
1551, which would be a year and nine months subsequent.

Could it have been also for suspicion of aiding in the movement that
led to the first humiliation of the Duke of Somerset, which occurred
in the October preceding his committal to the Tower? It _may_ have
been so,--or deemed so,--yet from what is left recorded, his presumed
action seems to point to the contrary.

"One of the '_Metrical Visions_' of George Cavendish, the
Gentleman Usher of Cardinal Wolsey, furnishes some biographical
particulars of Sir Thomas Arundell, namely, that he was educated
with Cardinal Wolsey, and was Chancellor to Queen Katharine
Howard. He is also made to confess that 'I was the cheaf
councellor in the first overthrowe of the Duke of Somerset, which
few men did knowe.'

"With regard to his fate, there is a curious passage in a very
rare book, bishop Ponet's '_Short Treatise on Politic Power_.'
Writing of the Earl of Warwick, Ponet states, 'at the erles sute
Arundell hathe his head with the axe divided from his
shoulders.'"[43]

and commenting on the same subject,--

"Bishop Ponet in his '_Treatise on Politic Power_,' says in
reference to his (Sir Thomas') arrest in 1549, 'he conspired with
that ambitious and subtil Alcibiades, the Earl of Warwick, after
Duke of Northumberland, to pull down the good Duke of Somerset,
King Edward's uncle and protector,'--if this be correct it is
singular he should have been afterwards re-arrested for
conspiring with Somerset against Northumberland."[44]

[43] Note in _Machyn's Diary_, by J. G. NICOLLS.

[44] _The Chapel in the Tower_, by DOYNE C. BELL.

On such slender and second-hand evidence and apparently so improbable,
as to his helping at first to pull down the Protector, not much may be
said;--men's views and movements at the time often veered amid these
intrigues for the possession or direction of the supreme power,--but
Sir Thomas' after-implication with the Duke seems to refute it. That
the Earl of Warwick (Northumberland) may have used his influence for
the destruction of Sir Thomas, in the company of his rival,--the
greater victim,--may be accepted without much scruple.

Sir Thomas was released from the Tower on the 4th of October, and in
the meanwhile, events as to Somerset's overthrow, were now rapidly
developing themselves to a conclusion.

Northumberland--the rival and enemy of the Protector--had given
intelligence of a conspiracy in which Somerset, Sir Thomas Arundell,
Sir Ralph Vane, and several others were concerned. Of course there was
the inevitable informer, and in this case a certain knight, called Sir
Thomas Palmer, has recorded against him this unenviable notoriety.

In Sir John Hayward's _Life and Reign of K. Edward VI._, we read,--

"Herewith Sir _Thomas Palmer_, a man neither loving the Duke of
_Somerset_, nor beloved of him, was brought by the Duke of
_Northumberland_ to the King being in his garden. Here he
declared on St. George's day last before, the Duke of _Somerset_
being upon a journey towards the north, in case Sir _William
Herbert_, Master of the Horse, had not assured him he should
receive no harm, would have raised the people; and that he had
sent the Lord _Gray_ before, to know who would be his friends:
also that the Duke of Northumberland, the Marquis of Northampton,
the Earl of Pembroke, and other lords should be invited to a
banquet, and if they came with a bare company, to be set upon by
the way; if strongly, their heads should have been cut off at the
place of their feasting. He declared further that Sir _Ralph
Vane_, had two thousand men in a readiness; that Sir _Thomas
Arundell_ had assured the _Tower_, that _Seymor_ and _Hamond_,
would wait upon him, and that all the horse of the _Gendarmorie_
should be slain."

This must have been the day on which the boy-king records in his
journal,--

"11 Oct., 1551. Sir Thomas Arrondel had ashuerid my Lord that the
Towre was sauf."

The "my Lord" here must have related to Somerset, which the King heard
of in his conversation with Northumberland.

On the 16 October, 1551, says Grafton,--

"being Fryday, the Duke was again apprehended, and committed to
the Tower, on a charge of high treason."

And the King records,--

"This morning none was at Westminster of the conspiratours. The
first was the Duke, who came later than he was wont, of himself.
After diner he was apprehendid."

Sir John Hayward thus describes it,--

"and so after dinner, he (the Duke) was apprehended; Sir _Thomas
Palmer_, Sir _Thomas Arundel_, _Hamonde_, _Nudigates_, _John
Seymour_, and _David Seymour_, were also made prisoners, the Lord
_Gray_ being newly come out of the country was attached. Sir
_Ralph Vane_, being sent for, fled. Upon the first message it was
reported that he said that his Lord was not stout, and that if he
could get home he cared not for any; but upon pursuit he was
found in his servant's stable at Lambeth covered with straw. He
was a man of fierce spirit, both sudden and bold, of no evil
disposition, saving he thought scantiness of estate too great an
evil. All these were the same night sent to the Tower, except
Palmer, Arundel, and Vane, who were kept apart in the Court, well
guarded in chambers apart. After these followed Sir _Thomas
Holdcroft_, Sir _Miles Partridge_, Sir _Michael Stanhope_ and
others. The day following the Dutchess of _Somerset_ was sent to
the Tower, also with her were committed one _Crane_, and his
wife, and her own chamber woman. _Crane_ confessed for the most
part as _Palmer_ had done, and further added that the Lord
_Paget's_ house was the place, where the nobility being invited
to a banquet, should have lost their heads, and that the Earl of
_Arundel_ was made acquainted with the practice by Sir _Michael
Stanhope_. This _Crane_ was a man, who having consumed his own
estate, had armed himself to any mischief. All these were sworn
before the Council, and forthwith upon the information of
_Crane_, the Earl of _Arundel_, and Lord _Paget_ were sent to the
Tower."

On the _same_ day, Machyn notes,--

"1551, xvj. day of October, was had to the Towre, Sir Thomas
Arundell and Lady (with many others)."

and the King writes,--

"16 Oct. Arrondel was taken."

Twenty-seven peers took part in the trial of Somerset, his rival the
Duke of Northumberland being one, and the Marquis of Winchester
presided as Lord High Steward.

On the 2nd December following, narrates Grafton,--

"the sayd Duke was brought out of the Tower of London, with the
axe of the Tower borne before him, with a great number of billes,
gleves, holbardes, and polaxes attending upon him; and was had
from the Tower by water, and having shot London bridge, at five
of the clock in the morning, so came unto Westminster Hall, where
was made in the middle of the Hall a new scaffold, where all the
Lords of the King's Counsaill sate as his judges, and there was
he arraigned and charged with many articles both of treason and
felony. And when after much milde speeche, he had aunsered not
guiltie, he in all humble manner put himselfe to be tryed by his
peeres, who, after long consultation among themselves, gave their
verdict that he was not guiltie of the treason, but of the
felony."

The King says in his diary,--

"The Duke of Northumberland wold not agree that any searching of
his death shuld bee treason. So the lordis acquited him of high
treason and condemned him of treason feloniouse, and so he was
adjudged to be hangid."

As the punishment was hanging, he "departed without the ax of the
Toure"--which the people outside not understanding, "shouted harf a
dousen times so loud that from the halle dore it was harde at Charing
Crosse plainely, and rumours went that he was quitte of all."

But his adversaries had got him too safely for release on this side of
the grave, once more he was to appear before his fellow-men when the
axe, and not the halter as was adjudged him, was to finish all.

On Friday, the 22nd of January following, the Duke was, at eight in
the morning, beheaded on Tower Hill.

It was not until five days after the execution of the Duke that Sir
Thomas Arundell, and his companion Sir Ralph Vane were put on their
trial.

The first to be tried was Sir Thomas' presumed confederate, Sir Ralph
Vane. Machyn relates,--

"1551-2,--The xxvii. day of January was reynyd at Westmynster
Hall, ser Raff a Vane knyght of tresun and qwyt of hytt, and cast
of felony to be hangyd."

Of this resolute and brave man, says Hayward,--

"He was charged with conspiring with _Somerset_, but his bold
answers termed rude and ruffian-like, falling into ears apt to
take offence, either only caused, or much furthered his
condemnation. 'The time hath been,' said he, 'when I was of some
esteem, but now we are in peace which reputeth the coward and
couragious alike.'"

He strongly denied that he had practised treason against the King, or
any of the Lords of the Council, and added that "his blood would make
Northumberland's pillow uneasy to him." The 'qwest' were not long in
disposing of him, and the King comments,--

"27 Jan., 1551-2. Sir Rafe Vane was condemned of felony in
treason, aunsering like a ruffian."

The next day was appointed for Sir Thomas Arundell to appear before
his judges. It was apparent they must have had very slender or
unsatisfactory evidence, and it is cruel to read with what pertinacity
they were required to decide on his case.

It is probable that, like the Duke of Somerset, he was taken from the
Tower to Westminster Hall by water, and imagination can easily depict
the various phases of the scene. Aroused early on the morning of the
twenty-eighth of January, in mid-winter almost, it may be in cold and
pitiless weather, escorted by the Lieutenant of the fortress, Sir John
D'Arcy, and accompanied by his officers, down to the well-guarded boat
waiting for him, under the shadow of the great arch that spans the
Traitor's Gate, the way lit by the feeble light of a lantern, which,
as they seated themselves in the little craft, faintly revealed the
portcullis raised for the occasion, and the dark waters of the Thames,
just discernible through it, made visible by the flickering gleam
thrown upon its surface, rippling to the inconstant night-breeze. Then
their emerging from the gloomy portal, the prisoner sitting silent and
motionless in the stern, the officers and halberdiers ranged on each
side, and in front the heads-man's official, with the dread axe
resting on his shoulder. Then their passage down the quiet river, with
no sound to break the solitude, but the measured splash of the oarsmen
steadily rowing him to his doom. Then their landing at Westminster in
the just-breaking light of morning, and the sad little procession
wending its way up to the main door of the vast Hall, its dim,
cavernous roof, scarcely distinguishable by the cluster of twinkling
points of light gathered in its centre, where, arrayed in all the
picturesque costume of the age, emphasized by the scarlet cloaks of
the judges, were congregated a large body of legal and civic
functionaries, the solemn array of the jurors of the 'qwest,' and a
throng of anxious citizens, assembled to decide whether he was guilty,
or not guilty,--if he should live or die.

But the 'qwest' had not so easy a matter before them, in the disposing
of his case, as they had the day before with that of Sir Ralph Vane.
The evidence was presumably of slight or doubtful character, and so
the day passed by and evening arrived, but no decision was arrived at.
Sir Thomas had to endure this prolonged suspense, and was taken back
to the Tower again, to wait through the anxious night, and then the
following morning, go through the same dread ordeal, and appear once
more before his judges, to learn his fate.

The 'qwest' of the jury appear to have thoroughly and sturdily debated
the guilt or innocence of the prisoner, and not being able to agree,
were thereon subjected to the usual inhuman treatment of being starved
in cold and darkness into agreement,--if such it may be called,--or
rather a decision, one way or the other. And so they "sate shut up" in
a house all that live-long night, and it was not until day-break the
next morning that "they did cast him,"--the dissentients probably
being wearied into compliance. "When Sir Thomas--who perhaps may
justly have had latent hope that their disagreement might end
favourably for him--stood before his accusers for the second time, his
doom was decided on, and he heard the fearful result that "they had
acquitted him of treason, and cast him of felony, to be hanged."

Machyn thus describes the assiduous process of his condemnation,--

"1551-2. The xxviij. of Januarij was reynyd sir Thomas Arundell,
Knyght, and so the qwest cold nott fynd ym tyll the morow after,
and so he whent to the Towre agayn, and then the qwest wher shutt
up tyll the morow withowt mett or drynke, or candylle or fyre,
and on the morow he came a-gayne and the qwest qwytt ym of
treasun, and cast hym of felony to be hangyd."

And Hayward soliloquizes over the unhappy event,--

"Sir _Thomas Arundel_ was with some difficulty condemned, for his
cause was brought to trial about seven of the clock in the
morning, and about noon the jurors went together, and because
they could not agree, they were shut in a house all the residue
of that day and all the night following. The next morning they
found him guilty. Unhappy man! who found the doing of anything or
nothing dangerous alike."

and the little King mechanically notes in his diary,--

"29th Jan., 1551-2. Sir Thomas Arundel was likewise cast of
felony in treason, after long controversie, for the matter was
brought in trial bie seven of the cloke in the morning 28th day;
at none the qwest went together; they sate shut up together in a
house, without meat or drinke, bicause they could not agree, all
that day and all night; this 29th day in the morning they did
cast him."

So the first act of the coming tragedy was completed, and then after
they had made sure of the destruction of their victim, they were
equally assiduous that he should have ample religious consolation, in
order that he "may dye well,"--and so give colour to the assumption
that he was rightly convicted; and seemingly seek to justify the cruel
sentence, awarded under such manifest difficulty, arising from the
slight grounds of the accusation preferred against him.

Therefore the very same day of his condemnation, the 29th of October,

"the Council issued orders to the Lieutenant of the Tower, 'that
Doctour Bill may from tyme to tyme resort to Sir Rauff Fane for
his instruction to dye well; and that Doctour Parker may resort
from tyme to tyme to Sir Thomas Arundell for the lyke
purpose."[45]

Both these spiritual advisers were evidently Protestants, holding
office in the Reformed Church. Dr. William Bill was successively
Master of St. John's and Trinity Colleges, Cambridge, and afterward
Provost of Eton, Dean of Westminster, and Almoner to Queen Elizabeth.
Dr. Matthew Parker was Chaplain to Edward VI., Dean of Lincoln, and
afterward Archbishop of Canterbury. What faith Sir Ralph Vane
professed may not be related here, but from his bold and resolute
character it may be surmised to have been of an easy-going kind, and
the clerical consolers sent to administer to him in his necessity
might have been as acceptable as any other.

Not so to Sir Thomas Arundell; his religious adherence as a staunch
Catholic was doubtless well known, and to him, the intrusion of the
men named, in his hopeless distress, would have been adding still
further cruelty to his sentence, by depriving him of that last
preparation and final rites of the church he belonged to, which one of
her own confessors could alone afford him.

Application was therefore made for this privilege, and so we find
that,--

"on the 11th of February, Mr. Perne was allowed to resort to Sir
Thomas Arundell, to instruct hym to dye well."[45]

[45] BELL'S _Chapel in the Tower_.

To die well,--such was, apparently, the condition most sought for, to
appear penitent, and if possible to ensure this, the strong religious
point was waived, and one,--probably of the ejected religious of the
previous reign,--was "allowed" admittance to the death-sentenced
prisoner. The monk who came was presumably William Peryn, Prior of the
Black-friars, and a distinguished preacher; he probably attended Sir
Thomas in his last moments.

The last scene of this mournful progression was now at hand. On the
22nd February the Lieutenant of the Tower received instructions to
give notice to--

"Sir Thomas Arundell, and Sir Rauf Vane that they should against
Friday next, prepare themselves to dye, according to their
condempnation."

But another and melancholy privilege had now to be sought for, and
that was to change the ignominious method of hanging,--the punishment
accorded for treason-felony,--to the less degrading death by
beheading. Some influence had to be used, but it was granted. The same
method of death was also extended to Sir Michael Stanhope. No
alteration, however, was accorded--if sought for--with regard to the
execution of the "ruffian," Sir Ralph Vane, and Sir Miles Partridge;
they were to perish at the same hour at the gallows, which was
probably set up beside the scaffold on Tower Hill.

Cavendish in his _Metrical Visions_, thus refers to this circumstance
in the last stanza of that one relating to Sir Thomas Arundell,--

"To be hanged though my judgment ware,
Yet to do me honour they changed my sentence,
And to leese my head to ease me of my care:--
But death was the thing of all their pretence
Which they desired;--such was their conscyence
There I make an end, and I without redresse
As here ye may see me, a symple body hedlesse."

Then came the final order on the 23rd to the King's Solicitor--

"To make a warrant for the beheading Sir Thomas Arundell, and Sir
Michael Stanhope, and to perform the process of hanging of Sir
Rauf Vane and Sir Miles Partridge, who are appointed to be
executed on fryday next between ix. and xi. before noone."

The warrant was duly made out and dated the 25th,--the next day
Friday, the 26th February, was fixed for their execution. Machyn thus
describes the event,--

"The xxvj. day of Feybruarii the wyche was the morrow after saynt
Mathuwe day, was hedded on the Tower hill, sir Myghell Stanhope
knyght and ser Thomas Arundell, and incontenent was hangyd the
seylff sam tyme sir Raff a Vane knyght, and ser Mylles Parterege
knyght of the galowse besyd the ---- and after ther bodys wher
putt in to dyvers new coffens to be bered, and heds, in to the
Towre in cases, and ther bered."

Both Sir Thomas Arundell and Sir Michael Stanhope were interred in the
Tower Chapel. Thus he followed in the same dire way, and was buried
beside his two headless kinswomen laid there a few years previously.

What is to be said as to all these proceedings, and their melancholy
termination, had guilt or innocence anything to do with it, or was it
expediency only, that controlled the result? Sir John Hayward
apparently supplies the true key as to the object of the nefarious
transaction,--

"Not long after the death of Somerset, _because it was not
thought fit that such a person should be executed alone, who
could hardly be thought to offend alone_, Sir Ralph Vane and Sir
Miles Partridge were hanged on Tower Hill, Sir Michael Stanhope
and Sir Thomas Arundell were there also beheaded.

"All these took it upon their last charge, that they never
offended against the King, nor against any of his Council. God
knows whether obstinately secret or innocent, and in the opinion
of all men Somerset was much cleared by the death of those _who
were executed to make him appear faulty_."

But their deaths were not destined to go long unavenged. He who had
poured the "leperous distilment" into the young king's ear, that sent
Sir Thomas to his doom, and others, in company with his rival
Somerset, lame-footed vengeance was on the trail of his unscrupulous,
ambitious footsteps, it speedily overtook him, and the next headless
body that was brought to find unconscious entrance to the Tower Chapel
was that of John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland.

As the grave closes over the unfortunate Sir Thomas Arundell our
thoughts next follow to those he left behind him. The usual fate was
awarded his possessions as a traitor, he was attainted, and they were
confiscated to the Crown; but King Edward, two years after his death,
restored to his widow, the Lady Elizabeth Arundell, her full dower out
of her deceased husband's property.

Of course there is no direct memorial existent to Sir Thomas Arundell,
but it is singular, that in the fine brass to the memory of his
father, mother, and his father's second wife in St. Columb church,
Cornwall, one of their children, a little _headless_ armoured figure
still remains, and beside it is Sir Thomas' escutcheon,--Arundell with
six quarterings, impaling Howard with four. The diminutive effigy is
undoubtedly designed to represent Sir Thomas,--the label over his head
that contained his name is gone. The corresponding indents of figure,
shield, and label, were originally filled with a representation of his
brother Sir John, his name and arms.

Sir Thomas Arundell, by his wife Elizabeth Howard, left two children,
Sir Matthew, who succeeded him, and Margaret, married to Sir Henry
Weston.

Sir Matthew married Margaret, daughter of Henry Willoughby[46] of
Wollaton, Notts, by his wife Anne, third daughter of Thomas Grey,
second Marquis of Dorset, and sister to Henry, afterward Duke of
Suffolk. They were second cousins, both being the grandchildren of
Cicely Bonville.

[46] The ghost of his name, and the tomb in Southleigh
churchyard, seem to haunt our little narratives, see pages 35 and 85.

With the accession of Queen Mary, matters wore a very different aspect
toward the Arundells. Doubtless the Queen fully recognized and
esteemed their allegiance to the antient faith, which she held in
common with them, and so we find in the first year of her reign, she
restored by patent to Sir Matthew, all his deceased father's lands.
This does not seem to have included Wardour Castle, which appears to
have been granted by lease or otherwise to the Earl of Pembroke, who
greatly embellished it, but Sir Matthew subsequently, by purchase,
acquired its possession from that family; it was not, however, free of
the claims of the Crown as will be seen. He probably resided before
this at Shaftesbury, in the house he had built out of the ruins of the
Abbey.

Sir Matthew was knighted, with twenty-two other west-country
gentlemen, who "were dubbed in the progress to Bristowe, anno d'ni,
1574," by Queen Elizabeth.

Once more we find ourselves in Tisbury church, and in this chancel,
where the succeeding generations of the Arundells of Wardour, after
the vicissitudes of this life,--and in their earlier days they had
their ample share of them,--were over,--and one after another were
here gathered together in the fold of death.

Sir Matthew was buried 24 Dec., 1598. This inscription commemorates
him,--

IESUS.
MAT' ARUNDEL, EQUES ORDINE, INTUS DORMIT IN PULVERE.
IGNOSCAT ILLI OMNIA QUI NOSTRA TULIT CRIMINA.
DELICTA JUVENTUTIS MEE ET IGNORANTIAS MEAS NE
MEMINERIS DOMINE.
I. H. S.

Thomas, his son, succeeded him. "Prompted by the ardent and chivalrous
spirit of adventurous enterprise prevalent in the reign of Elizabeth,
he obtained the Queen's permission to enter the service of Rudolph
II., Emperor of Germany, to whom she addressed a personal letter of
recommendation of her 'kinsman.'" This was correct enough,--Queen
Elizabeth was the daughter of Queen Anne Boleyn, and so grand-daughter
of Lady Elizabeth Howard,--Thomas Arundell was the great-grandson of
Lord Edmund Howard, her brother. In 1595, at the siege of the city of
Gran, or Strigonium, in Hungary, then held by the Turks, he gave great
proofs of his valour, "and that in forcing the water tower, near
Strigonium, he took from the Turks their banner, slaying the bearer
with his own hand." For this and other services Rudolph created him a
Count of the Holy Roman Empire, which he had the temerity to accept,
without getting sufficient leave from his jealous and imperious
'kinswoman' at home, and for which he appears to have suffered some
confinement. It raised a dispute also at Court as to what precedence,
or otherwise, this foreign distinction was entitled to, and the matter
being brought before the Queen for her opinion, she characteristically
replied,--

"that there was a close tie of affection between the prince and
subject; and that as chaste wives should have no glances but for
their own spouses, so should faithful subjects keep their eyes at
home, and not gaze upon foreign crowns, and she, for her part,
did not care her sheep should wear stranger's marks, nor dance
after the whistle of every foreigner."

and she intimated to the Emperor, that she had forbad him any place or
precedence in England.

It is probable Queen Elizabeth had no great liking for the Arundells,
being prejudiced against them, it may be on account of their religious
principles. Some years before, in 1575, when Sir Matthew Arundell had
re-acquired Wardour Castle and Park, she seized upon it to enforce the
payment of an old Crown debt, that seems to have been owing on
property Sir Thomas Arundell acquired of Henry VIII., and had not been
cleared off, and which it was probable from his relationship to that
monarch was never intended should be paid. The Queen, we believe, did
not insist on the payment, but it shewed her semi-hostile attitude
toward them then, and this incident of the acceptance of a foreign
title, did not tend to improve it. King James, however straitened and
antagonistic in his religious views, and natural distaste to the Roman
communion, nevertheless, recognized his merits, by creating him in the
second year of his reign, 4 May, 1605, Baron Arundell of Wardour, but
neither Queen Elizabeth, nor that King, we believe, ever recognized
his foreign title. He died at Wardour Castle, and was buried in this
chancel. The following inscription is to his memory,--

THOMAS DOMINUS ARUNDELIUS,
PRIMUS BARO DE WARDOUR, SACRI ROMANI IMPERII COMES,
OBIJT 7^MO DIE NOVEMBRIS,
ÆTATIS SUÆ 79, ANNO DOMINI 1639.

SICUT PULLUS HIRUNDINIS SIC CLAMABO.

Isaiæ xxxviii. v. 14.

With this we close any extended notice of the succeeding descendants
of this noble and distinguished family. Thomas his son was a devoted
Royalist, and "being at the battle of Lansdown was shot in the thigh
by a brace of pistol-bullets, whereof the same year he died in his
Majesty's garrison at Oxford,"--the devoted and heroic Blanche
Somerset his wife it was who so bravely defended Wardour Castle during
the war of the Commonwealth; she died at Winchester, but both are
rejoined in death here. These inscriptions occur to them,--

D. O. M.

Hic parte sua mortali quiescit, qui in coelo potiori parte vivit
immortalis THOMAS ARUNDEL, Baro Arundel de Warder, sacri Romani
imperii Comes, primogenitus nempe Thomæ Arundel, Baronis etiam de
Warder, qui, ob insignia et pietatis et fortitudinis exempla in
communem Christiani nominis hostem in Hungaria ad Strigonium
præstita hæreditarium hunc honoris titulum a Rodolpho secundo
meruit ipse, et ad posteros transmissit; cujus dignitatum
virtutumque hic hæres, dum vixit, sic Deo in constanti pietatis
exercito militavit in terris, ut debitum sibi in coelis triumphum
expectare videretur, ita se totum in Regis Caroli primi
obsequium, imminente in Anglia bello civili, impendit, ut in
illud opes fortunamque profuderit, ac vitam denique ipsam
lubentissime contulisset, e qua excessit Oxonii die 19^o Maij,
ann. ætatis 59, annoque reparatæ salutis 1643.

And on the adjoining stone:--

D. O. M.

Hic conjugi conjux amantissima adjacet Domina BLANCHA SOMERSET,
filia Edwardi Somerset, Wigorniæ Comitis, privata sigilli
custodis, magistri equitum, &c., quæ marito par generis
splendore, exercitio virtutum non impar, in aula regia quasi in
cella privata vixit quanto dignitate terrena sublimior, tanto
pietatis fulgere splendidior, quantoque regiæ vicinior majestati,
tanto (quod parum est inter mortales) supremo dilectior numini
quo ut proprius frueretur coelo natura mortalitatem exuit
Wintoniæ die 28^o Octob: ann: ætat: LXVI. annoque Dom:
M.DC.XLIX.

Henry, their son, spent five years in the Tower, 1673 to 1678, on the
information of the infamous Titus Oates, but afterward became Lord
Privy Seal to James II.

"Which Henry Lord Arundell, at his own charge, raised a regiment
of horse for the service of King Charles the First in the time of
the usurpation, and stoutly defended his Castle of Wardour
against those rebellious forces, which, under the command of
Edward Hungerford, did then attempt it on behalf of the
Parliament. In the year 1678, he was with William Earl Powis,
William Viscount Stafford, William Lord Petre, and John Lord
Bellasis, committed prisoners to the Tower, and afterwards were
impeached by the House of Commons of high crimes and offences,
without being brought on their trial. He continued prisoner with
the other Lords, till the year 1683, when they were admitted to
bail.

"On King James II. accession to the throne he was sworn of his
Privy Council, and on 11 March, 1686, was constituted Lord Keeper
of the Privy Seal, also, when that Monarch, in 1688, began his
journey towards Salisbury, he committed the administration of
affairs in his absence to the Lord Chancellor, the Lords
Arundell, Bellasis, Preston, and Godolphin. He departed this life
28 December, 1694, having married Cecilie, daughter of Sir Henry
Compton, C.B., of Brambletye, in the county of Sussex."
(Collins.)

Henry, the seventh baron, by his marriage in 1739 with Mary
Arundell-Bealing of Lanherne, who died in 1769, re-united the antient
branch of the family from which he was descended; he died in 1756,
aged 38, is interred below, and his epitaph (by translation) tells us,
"_who taking to himself to wife Mary Arundell, the most noble heiress
of the family of Lanherne in Cornwall, and having gotten a son of her,
a most renowned race which for more than two centuries had been rent
asunder, now happily united, flourishes, and may it for ever flourish
by the favour of God_."

With the memory of this delightful incident, so gracious and
refreshing after the blood-stained relation of the earlier portion of
our little narrative, we take our leave of this garner of the departed
Arundells, and, seeking once more the rapid convenience of the iron
road, are passing swiftly homeward. As the train glides rapidly by the
little station of Sutton-Bingham, we remember that not far from this,
another and almost unique trace of Arundell of Cornwall is to be
found. At about a mile's distance is the village of East-Coker, and in
the south transept window of its church are two antient shields of
painted glass side by side, on one are the arms of the See of Exeter,
on the other quarterly, Arundell and Carminow. These are the arms of
John Arundell, Bishop of Exeter, who presided over the diocese two
years, died 19 Feb., 1506, and was buried in the church of St.
Clement Danes, London, and, as far as we have knowledge, is the only
trace of memorial existing to him.

Once more the career of the subject of our little narrative returns to
us. All appears to have gone well with him, even among the perils with
which he was environed during the reign of Henry VIII. It may be, the
instant danger of giving offence to the wishes or inclinations of that
capricious tyrant kept him in the path of caution and safety.

But when that king's baby son assumed the reins of sovereignty this
terror had disappeared, and men were busily vieing with each other as
to whom,--professedly under the little king,--should really rule the
destinies of the nation. Sir Thomas now appears to have taken action,
and identified himself with one side of the contending factions, not
prominently, but sufficiently marked to make him a subject of
suspicion--to say nothing beyond--with those he was presumed to differ
from, and this on an adverse emergency was a position of considerable
peril. So it turned out, for in the end his death appears to have been
resolved on, not because his offence was easily proved, or that he
deserved such punishment, but as a makeweight, to give the colour of
complicity, and so justify the death of Somerset, by the execution of
himself, and that of others, thereby inferring the plot was a real
one, and of dangerous extent. If so,--and circumstances seem strongly
to confirm this view,--his was altogether a hard fate; it is difficult
indeed, to imagine a harder one.

"SICUT PULLUS HIRUNDINIS SIC CLAMABO."

Even Thine altars!--there my soul shall flee--
O Lord of Hosts! and as a swallow come
On quivering wing, and chatter mournfully,
And make her nest, and seek eternal home.

Even Thine altars! where in holy state
Lies the Great Sacrifice of endless love,
Incense adoring streams to heaven's gate,
Service unceasing seeks Thy throne above.

Even Thine altars! there unharmed to stay,
And when my captive pinions death shall free,
Migrate to fairer regions far away,
There fold my wings, and rest in peace, with Thee.

=Deo data.=

[Illustration: BENCH ENDS. LANDULPH CHURCH, CORNWALL.]

OF THE IMPERIAL LINE.

A leisurely sail from the beautiful, capacious, and almost land-locked
harbour of Plymouth, up its main inlet--so curiously named the
Hamoaze--to the picturesque precincts of the lower extremity of the
Tamar, on a bright summer day with a gentle breeze, is an excursion in
all respects most enjoyable.

The harbour itself is studded over with craft of every variety and
size, and sails spread of almost all hues, with here and there a fussy
steam-boat ploughing its smoky way between them, while just inside,
and tethered as it were to the dim line of the breakwater, are two or
three dark grim-looking ironclads, lying as watch-dogs at its
entrance.

Sea-ward, is the broad, blue, open main; on the left, the tree-fringed
heights of Mount-Edgcumbe; before us, the irregular, creek-broken
shore of the "Three-Towns" jutting angularly into the deep, clear
water, with houses crowding down to its rocky edge. There, too, in its
centre, is one of the most classic spots on English soil--the
Hoe--consecrated by endless historic national traditions, and made
sacred beyond imagination's most inspired effort, by the tears,
prayers, and hopes that have alternately taken their rise, and from
its heights watched the silent sails pass on below to the distant
ocean, bearing voyagers, the purpose of whose errands,--who may
declare?

On its pleasant open plateau, how diverse also have been the objects
of those who from time to time have there assembled. Determined
spirits with hands upon their sword-hilts, waiting and watching for
the first glimpse of the van of the seven miles crescent-flotilla of
the dark and hostile Spaniard, sweeping onward toward the shore,
bearing the chains of slavery, spiritual and social, within their
holds. Bands of bare-headed, bent-browed men, kneeling in reverent,
prayerful conclave--the last home-office of their undaunted faith--ere
they stepped on board the peaceful convoy, expatriated by conscience
from their native soil, in search of a larger liberty, and destined to
found in another hemisphere, an even greater England than they were
leaving. Invader and emigrant, each shall we say, with purpose
animated by soul-constraining religious convictions, but with ultimate
aspirations, how different!

Spectators,--myriad numbered, greeting with enthusiastic plaudits, the
departure of stately fleets, that at intervals during successive
centuries, have passed out, destined to carry the grand conquests of
the seamanship and valour of the English race,--triumphs martial and
commercial,--to every sea; or anon, sorrowful groups with down-cast
hearts, wafting sad and final farewells to those, who have here in
continuous exodus set out to seek new homes on distant shores, and
from hence cast their last "longing, lingering look," at the receding,
vanishing outline of their native land; or again, eager eyes anxious
to descry the first rise of the sail of the home-bound ship on the
distant horizon, bearing a freight more precious to the love-strained
heart, than all the wealth of Ind.

But while these suggestive thoughts are haunting us, we have slowly
crept up to the warlike precincts of the lower Hamoaze. We pass the
huge, cavernous, pent-house-looking, but now empty 'slips,' hanging
over the darkling tide, in which the 'wooden walls' of _old_ England
were wont aforetime to be built, ere the steam-urged iron monsters of
our present _new_ England were dreamt of. And we ruminate a moment
over this change of times and things, and mentally ask the question,
What is the gain to human development achieved by much of the
scientific--_ergo_ mechanical--appliances of the present hour? the
which, while it flatters the lord of creation with the belief he has
become the autocrat of the forces and elements, in truth practically
reduces that proud being to be the servant and care-taker of the
machine he has constructed, for assuredly to a very large extent to
this menial occupation he is being rapidly reduced.

Specially with regard to ships and navigation, a generation or two
ago, vessels in construction and appearance were not only beautiful
objects as such, but required also all the skill, foresight, courage,
and dexterity which taxes the resources of manhood to the utmost, and
forms the basis of true seamanship, for their guidance and control.
Then there was something both for the mind and bodily energy alike to
exercise and develope itself on; and undoubtedly much of the secret of
our victories, both in commerce and war, that we have achieved in the
past, may be traced to our proficiency therein, and as a consequence,
the cause of our winning the crown of success among all other
competing maritime nations.

Now almost all is changed, science has invaded the citadel of living
endeavour, and deposed its activity and ambition; while furnished with
the results of her conquests, one man practically has become as good
as another, the spur of incentive has vanished from the heel of
individual aspiration to excellence, with this result, that if to man
the privilege of becoming a greater, nobler being, fostered by the
soul's glorious activities, as having something to conquer, or win, be
denied or removed from him; he can now console himself with the belief
he may afford to become a much idler one,--a prime factor in the creed
of the present hour.

And therefore instead of the slips and the wooden-walls, with clatter
of adze, axe, and caulking hammer, and the wholesome odour of
Stockholm tar,--here we are abreast of the 'steam-yard,' with its
metallic clang and reek of coal-smoke, threading our way between a
swarm of iron-clads of every form and shape; ugly, dark, and
diabolical-looking, as the errand they are constructed for, their
sullen turrets, monstrous guns, and blood-curdling names, aptly and
unmistakably assuring the beholder that their eventual port of
destination lies on the shore of Hades. Steam-pinnaces and swift
torpedo-boats are rushing about, and large tenders surging along,
among whom we carefully steer, and look across with a glance of relief
on the smart, clean, handsome three-deckers moored stern to stern in
mid-stream; floating Othellos, that now with occupation gone, serve as
nautical colleges for the sailor-boys, where they are instructed in
such slender knowledge of seamanship as is at present deemed
necessary.

How different was the measure of requirement in the early years of the
first George, when the unfortunate Falconer wrote his poem of the
_Shipwreck_, whose seamanship was apparently as dear to him as the
muse, and so, delighted to cunningly array her with all the terms of
the mariner's vocabulary, a feat never attempted by other poet, and of
course a hopeless task to any but a true sailor,--

"But now, the transient squall to leeward passed,
Again she rallies to the sudden blast.
The helm to starboard moves; each shivering sail
Is sharply trimmed, to clasp th' augmenting gale--
The mizzen draws; she springs aloof once more,
While the fore-staysail balances before.
The fore-sail braced obliquely to the wind,
They near the prow th' extended tack confined:
Then on the leeward sheet the seamen bend,
And haul the bow-line to the bowsprit end,
To topsails next they haste, the bunt-lines gone,
Through rattling blocks the cluelines swiftly run;
Th' extending sheets on either side are manned;
Abroad they come, the fluttering sails expand;
The yards again ascend each comrade mast,
The leeches taught, the halyards are made fast,
The bowlines hauled, and yards to starboard braced,
The straggling ropes in pendent order placed."

We pass a magnificent white-clad troop-ship, with a beading of
red-coats leisurably looking over the forecastle, and glide under the
lee of one of those steam-winged brigands of the deep, a steel-built
cruiser, whose towering trim spars, and beautiful lines, excite
admiration, but chastened with the reflection of the capabilities for
destruction she carries in her enormous propelling power and
far-reaching guns. Woe, think we, to the peaceful merchantman who may
venture to disregard, or seek to flee from the summons of her eagle
eye!

And now we are sailing easily amid an assemblage of objects, whose
presence makes the heart sink, and the cheek burn as we contemplate
the rotting millions they represent,--the fleet of huge discarded
hulks, whose now comparatively untrustworthy fighting and defensive
capabilities, represent the modern advance in the art of destruction
in maritime warfare. Here and there a solitary figure peers over the
rusty bulwarks, but with regard to the majority, not a living
creature paces their deserted decks. Gay, golden, and bright-coloured
figure heads,--nymph, triton, or naval hero,--still decorate their
prows, but these to our fancy's eye, resolve themselves into gilded
skeletons with eyes of flame, and grasping the lightning darts of
destruction in their grisly clutches,--the ghastly phantasmagoria of
Death! And then comes the mournful reflection, that the original cost
of each of these now comparatively valueless hulls,--being for all
other purposes mere useless accretions of old iron and wood,--and
designed for the destruction of the human race, would have more than
sufficed to have built and endowed a hospital or college, whose
beneficent errand should have been for all time (and while our present
institutions are also starving for want of funds), and that the
aggregation of hulks floating lazily around us, and of their
predecessors, would represent an amount of wealth sufficiently large
to have dotted the empire all over with such excellent institutions.

Last thought of all, as we look back and watch the bright red cross
slowly unfold itself on the summer breeze over the taffrail of one of
the largest of them,--the hallowed symbol of peace and good will
hoisted over these engines of bloodshed,--we muse at the strange
antithesis suggested by its display, as if designed in bitterest
satire, to justify, or as it were, consecrate their direful mission. A
curious example of what we presume would be termed national religious
ethics, as at present professed in this Christian land of ours. But
then we recollect that favourite patriot, the courageous (at home) and
braggart, fire-eating Jingo, with his eight hundred millions of debt
on his back, has to be duly considered in the motley compact. "Peace
and good will" at present looks like a hopeless dream, to be further
off than ever, and its development in the boasted civilization of the
last quarter of the nineteenth century exhibits, instead, the strange
spectacle of more fighting men on land, and ships of war at sea,
furnished with the most tremendous appliances for the destruction of
human life than could be found, perhaps, at any previous era of the
world's history. Europe appears a vast armed camp, filled with
millions of soldiers, apparently only waiting in feverish suspense
some chance incident, to march on each other, and deluge the continent
with carnage.

And yet amid all this there are not wanting hopeful signs, that below
these dread preparations, a wiser and healthier undercurrent is
slowly, but surely moving, that will eventually, we trust, sap the
foundations of this military incubus, and free the long-suffering
peoples from its deadly glamour. The consequences of the wickedness
and folly of that game "which kings delight to play at" will be
clearly seen, and a larger and more comprehensive system of government
take the control into its own hands, and put a veto on the players.
Industry, guided by intellectual resource, is busily organizing its
battalions, with a power, destined, we ween, at no distant date to be
mightier than armies or navies. Intelligence, combined with a
knowledge of social and commercial needs, will become the great
factors of national influence and wealth in the future, and, unless we
greatly mistake, the basis of a kingdom's prosperity in the coming
time will be fought out on these battle-fields, and on them win its
silent and bloodless victories.

But a much greater and consolatory thought possesses us as we take a
final glance at the grim citadels of destruction lazily floating on
the now smiling strength of the watery expanse,--but compared with
which in its tempestuous wrath, they are as the bubble that vanishes
on its surface,--even the controlling power of that Mighty Ruler of
both, of which the Royal Minstrel has with prophetic grandeur sung;
strikingly paraphrased by His humbler disciple and lyrist, the gifted
Apostle of Cornish revival, here aptly recalled,--

"The Lord is King: ye saints rejoice
And ceaseless alleluias sing;
The angry floods lift up their voice
In vain,--for lo, the Lord is King!

All ocean's waves may swell and roar,
They cannot break their sandy chain;
Supreme in majesty and power,
The Lord shall o'er them rule and reign.

Though war's devouring surges rise,
Beyond their bounds they cannot go;
The Lord is King above the skies,
And rules the embattled host below.

'Tis God the Lord, whose mighty will
Makes angry war's contentions cease,
And bids the maddened world be still,
And brings the joyous gift of peace."

Withdraw thine eyes aft, friend of mine, banish all further
contemplation of the decaying sea-dragons, and look a-head where a
very different spectacle awaits thee. Immediately to the left is the
little, quiet, steep-streeted Cornish borough of Saltash, but now made
notable by the presence of Brunel's stupendous iron railway-bridge,
spanning the river before us, and thrusting itself into the bosom of
the old town; one of the largest mechanical works of this, or any age,
and exhibiting the strange engineering inversion of suspending the
load beneath the arch, as the road-way is slung or supported below,
instead of traversing above it. Its great height from the water, to a
considerable extent, contracts to the eye its huge proportions, which
may however in a measure be estimated, by observation of the
railway-train slowly threading its way across, being scarcely seen,
and but little heard from below, or recognized merely by a thin white
line streaming back above the parapet, and a subdued rumble; and by
noting also the Liliputian dimensions of some artizans, that look like
a bevy of insects perched on one of the great tubes. The extraordinary
construction it displays seems to suggest that here for once, Science
with syren persuasion must have charmed the ear of Wealth to accede to
her request--"provide me with the means required, and in return you
shall be shewn what can be accomplished"--so lavish is the strength,
and fantastic the form of the vast structure. On the river below this
immense creation, the floating steam-bridge crawls across at short
intervals, for passengers and vehicles. As we look at the two
extraordinary methods of transit, the reflection arises that at only a
few miles up the stream, an inexhaustible supply of granite may have
been obtained and easily floated. With this enduring material a
handsome bridge might have been erected, with arches sufficiently high
for all useful purposes of navigation, and the roadway on it made wide
enough for railway and ordinary purposes, and, what is so dear to the
calculating proclivities of our race, it would undoubtedly have paid
well also, in addition to its enormous convenience. But then the
wisdom of our senators would not have been exemplified, nor the
constructive ingenuity of the engineer glorified.

We emerge from the shadow of the great bridge, and pass another smart
training-ship. Moored there we presume to justify the outrageous and
apparently prohibitive stipulation of Parliament,--which required that
a railway train should be carried through the air above the masthead
of a fully rigged old-fashioned man-of-war,--for we never heard of
another performing such a feat. Nor did our sagacious and far-seeing
legislators probably dream of the advent of the squat iron-clads, with
neither mast or sail, and hulls more under the water than above it,
that now form the fleet of the present.

Leaving this the last trace of grisly war behind, we enter on a
glorious stretch of the uncontaminated Tamar, and admire two or three
barges with their grand, looming, picturesque sails,--like
great-winged sea-birds,--slowly traversing the bright expanse. Here a
prophetic echo from the lyre of the poet who dwelled at its source,
crosses the mental ear, and finds fulfilment,--

"Fount of a rushing river! wild flowers wreathe
The home where thy first waters sunlight claim;
The lark sits hushed beside thee, while I breathe,
Sweet Tamar spring! the music of thy name.

Fair is the future scenery of thy days,
Thy course domestic and thy paths of pride;
Depths that give back the soft-eyed violet's gaze,
Shores where tall navies march to meet the tide."

Delightfully we career along, and our thoughts suggest what a
spirit-cheering, buoyant--heart as well as boat--feeling of freedom
fills the mind, when afloat in a trim craft with a full sail, and a
fair wind. Pre-eminently so on the boundless sea, and in lesser
degree, but most enjoyable also, on this broad reach of inland water.
The busy succession of waves rising up and greeting with flickering
salute the prow of our little vessel, as with easy rocking motion she
speeds over their undulating succession. And the contented
satisfaction, also, that we have the pleasant breeze, with its varying
force for our untiring steed; no haunting thought disturbs, that some
noble animal in slavery is running the sands of his life out the
faster for our gratification,--nor the dread possibility of instant
annihilation, that hovers continuously over the rushing transit of the
iron trackway. Verily of all modes of movement, none equals for
pleasantness the sailor's, nor does the phantom of a wild pitiless
sky, lee shore, and foam-mantled rocks greatly alloy it.

Wild glory of the weltering shore,
The clouds dark portent hangeth o'er,
The rushing billows muffled roar.

Like storm-drenched bird, from out the west
The labouring bark by strong winds pressed,
Beats to the haven of her rest.

The seaman views the turmoil grim,
And be his vessel tight and trim,
The tempest wears no fears for him.

Starboard the helm, friend, for we have now fetched nearly a mile
_plus_ the bridge, and prepare to set thy foot for the first time on
old Cornubia's shore, and make acquaintance with its inhabiters, a
generous, independent liberty-loving race, who through the past
centuries have "one and all" vigorously asserted their right to social
and religious freedom. Yonder is Landulph church-tower peering up
among the undulations of the shore,--this will be our first port of
call, to visit the sanctuary nestling among the dwellings at its foot,
and make note of sundry interesting associations--one specially
unique--connected with it. We pull in our little craft, and having
made fast to a place of safety among the seaweed-clad slaty ledges of
rock, set off for our destination, and a few minutes' walk brings us
to the door of the little edifice.

On entering, the first thing that arrests attention, is the large
number of carved bench-ends with which the nave and south aisle are
furnished. Although under any conditions these architectural features
are most attractive to the antiquary, as displaying in their
sculptured imagery, direct witness of the art of past existences, the
examples here found, for quality of workmanship, reflect not the purer
glory of the Plantagenet workman, nor the lavish wealth of the earlier
Tudor. Their shallower and comparatively unstudied work, points to the
era just before that crowned Dowsing,--who in relation to the church
was dubbed Defender of her Faith, but whose truer and more congenial
title should have been Destructor of her Works,--by his ravages among
the religious establishments, gave the final quietus to the fast-dying
spirit of ecclesiastical art. But even apart from his relentless
savagery, its chief incentive had almost disappeared, for men were
then fast learning the easier faith of word-service alone, unallied
with the older self-denying, and more tangible offering of deeds. The
real and the painstaking had given place to the less troublesome and
quicker wrought,--rich deep-cut cusp, vine-leaf, rose, and blazoned
shield were succeeded by coarse rustic allegory, ill-shaped animals
and birds, tasteless initials and dates, and confused heraldry,
interspersed with heathen masks and grotesques, elbowing the cross and
sacred monogram--the last dying speech and confession of the expiring
Gothic. Here the symbolism of the Passion seems to have been the old
carvers' favourite subject, occurring in the greatest profusion,
variety, and minuteness of detail,--a pertinent example of the lowest
form of religious teaching, the objective (even now a favourite with
some), designed by its pictured symbolism to impress, and in its way
instruct the unlettered mind, a poor apology for the nobler and more
comprehensive study of the sacred text. One or two of the panels are
however more noteworthy, as preserving a flickering of the antient
beauty of design, and these find record in our sketch-book.

A sprinkling of curiously imperfect and jumbled heraldry, apparently
allusive to afore-time settlers in Landulph and important families
located near, occupies many; on these we recognize the _roses_ of
Lower, the _rudders_ of Willoughby de Broke, the _saltires_ of
Glanville, and the _bells_ of Porter of Trematon, while on others
occur the insignia of the See, and specially noticeable, those of the
princely Courtenay,--_the eagle on the bundle of sticks, feathers_,
and shields charged with the _three torteaux_, badges and arms of the
last descendants of the first house of that illustrious
descent,--armories almost ubiquitous, both within and without the
church door in these western parts.

Here in Landulph this noble race owned considerable possessions,
inherited through the marriage of Emmeline, daughter of Sir John
Dauney (or De Alneto), with Sir Edward Courtenay, who died 1372, of
whom Cleaveland records,--"he had sixteen manors, and died before his
father the Earl, and had by his lady two sons, Edward who came to be
Earl after his grandfather, and Sir Hugh of Haccombe, whose grandson
Edward was restored to the Earldom of Devonshire upon the failure of
the elder brother's issue." The effigies of Sir John Dauney, his
daughter Emmeline and her husband Sir Edward Courtenay are found in
the neighbouring church of Sheviocke. The property continued in the
ownership of the Courtenays, until the cruel execution of Henry,
Marquis of Exeter, by Henry VIII., when it was annexed to the Duchy of
Cornwall.

And here an interesting circumstance may be noted, concerning the
carved array of the symbolism of the Passion on the old seats before
us, as we remember that these emblems appear to have been general
favourites in Cornwall, and occur largely displayed in similar
situations within many other churches in the county.

Cornwall has ever been distinguished for the earnest religious views
of its inhabitants, and from the earliest times, its material record
has survived. The large number of old Crosses strewn thickly over the
wild moorlands or by the solitary wayside, in churchyard or village
street, were set up as reminders to the passing foot, of the way to
eternal life, and contemporary with them Holy Wells covered the bright
springs in the valleys, and appealed with their simple imagery to
those who came thither to draw, not to forget to thirst also for the
living water that refreshes the soul; while Sainted Names numberless,
the stories of whose devoted lives are lost in the mist of antiquity;
all attest that olden deep spirit of religious influence and
observance, not to be found in other regions of the west, and which
continues almost undiminished down to the present hour.

It was this feeling which brought the hardy miners, and their
half-brethren the Dartmoor peasantry, with their clubs and bows up to
the gates of Exeter in sturdy remonstrance, and to leave their mangled
bodies afterward on Clyst Heath, when the Mass they were accustomed to
reverence was abolished from their sight in the rural sanctuaries
where they worshipped, during the days of the sixth Edward. It was
this that stirred their hearts, and sent their war-cry aloft, when
their countryman Trelawney stood in peril of liberty and life at the
hands of the sinister James. It was this unsatisfied yearning, stifled
while under the religious torpor which had settled over the
mid-Georgian era, that welcomed the evangelic cry of Wesley, when he
breathed over their valley of dry bones, and devoted disciples by
myriads sprang into new and spiritual existence, followed subsequently
by the kindred and scarcely less-fruitful mission of O'Brien, the
apostle of the north Devon hills; and later still with equal
earnestness, their recognition and steadfast adhesion to the
beneficent discipline of Father Matthew. The same earnest receptive
spirit has continued in them through all the centuries. In
emotive warmth of heart,--not altogether wanting in touch of
chivalry,--home-loving clanship of nationality, and kinship of antient
tongue, the Cornish hold much in common with the Welsh, Irish, and
Scotch; qualities on crossing the Cheviots, Wrekin, or Dartmoor, lost
altogether in the common-place, flavourless compromise called English
character.

Slowly we wend our way through the nave, and observe in addition to
the numerous carved bench-ends, the lower compartments of the antient
rood-screen (its stair-turret still exists in the wall of the south
aisle), all the upper portion having disappeared. The design of its
tracery is similar, and from this we assume that the edifice was
entirely refitted within, if not wholly rebuilt at the same era. But
the majority of the benches have suffered curious treatment at the
ingenious hands of the parish joiner, a generation or so since, when
these old solid structures were transformed into pews, by grafting on
them above slender deal continuations, furnished with doors. Then
unfortunately the carved edging around their ends was nearly all
cleared away, so as to form a panel at the base, and finished
afterward by the whole being "neatly painted and grained" to acquire
uniformity. The north aisle has a fine open-timbered waggon roof, the
dividing arches between the nave and aisles are composed of
granite--moor-stone as Polwhele delighted to designate it--ponderous
and strong, and these, coupled with the old sturdy oak praying-benches
beneath, convey a sense of reality and abidingness in work that
contrasts strongly with our modern flimsy imitations.

"See now, along that pillared aisle
The graven arches firm and fair;
They bend their shoulders to the toil,
And lift the hollow roof in air.

Huge, mighty, massive, hard, and strong,
Were the choice stones they lifted then;
The vision of their hope was long,
They knew their God, those faithful men."

Having lingered a moment in the south aisle to note the badges of the
royally descended Courtenay, our steps tend eastward to the memento
that records an even more illustrious name than theirs, and that forms
the unique association connected with this country church. But ere we
reach it they are arrested a moment to observe the two large and
singularly representative squires' pews of the Jacobean knight Sir
Nicholas Lower, an olden resident of Clifton in Landulph, and of whom
we shall have something further to say by and by. One was evidently
intended for the use of the family, the other on the opposite side of
the aisle, larger, raised and arranged as a sort of gallery, evidently
intended to be occupied by his worship's servants and retainers. Both
are elaborately decorated in their upper portions with carved panels
displaying the armories of his descent and alliance, below they
exhibit the linen pattern, and on the corners appears his crest
sculptured in full relief. Immediately beyond is a large high-tomb,
whose massive black marble table records that the bodies of the old
knight and his dame repose below, while on the aisle wall immediately
above the gallery-pew are two further inscribed brasses to their
memories.

Now stay thy foot, and hearken! for we are standing not on princely,
nay, nor royal, but even over imperial dust. Give thy thoughts wing,
from these leaden skies and mist-hung coasts,--nor stay them until
they have reached the sunny shores of the Bosphorus and the Golden
Horn, the classic precincts and immortal traditions of that
superlatively beautiful city that holds the keys of the two continents
in her hands, and to the illustrious dynasty that erstwhile ruled her,
and by whose name she is still designated. Then learn that a direct
descendant of this distinguished race, an exile from his native clime,
and almost an outcast on the face of the earth, found his last refuge
in this life, under a friendly roof close by, and lies at rest,--not
in marble sarcophagus under vaulted dome near the home of his royal
ancestors,--but, equally well, beneath the simple pavement of this
rustic sanctuary.

Resolve thy parable, you say. Read the inscription recorded on yonder
unpretending brass plate:--

HERE LYETH THE BODY OF THEODORO PALEOLOGVS OF PESARO IN ITALYE;
DESCENDED FROM YE IMPERYAIL LYNE OF YE LAST CHRISTIAN EMPERORS OF
GREECE; BEING THE SONNE OF CAMILIO, YE SON'E OF PROSPER, THE
SONNE OF THEODORO, THE SONNE OF IOHN, YE SONNE OF THOMAS, SECOND
BROTHER TO CONSTANTINE PALEOLOGVS, THE 8TH OF THAT NAME, AND LAST
OF YE LYNE YT RAYGNED IN CONSTANTINOPLE, VNTILL SVBDVED BY THE
TVRKES; WHO MARRIED W'TH MARY, YE DAVGHTER OF WILLIAM BALLS OF
HADLYE IN SOVFFOLKE, GENT: AND HAD ISSVE 5 CHILDREN THEODORO,
IOHN, FERDINANDO, MARIA AND DOROTHY, AND DEPARTED THIS LIFE AT
CLYFTON, YE 21TH OF IANVARY, 1636.

Over is the proud achievement of his race,--_Per fess, a
double-headed eagle displayed, collared, and with an imperial crown
between the heads, standing on the castles of Europe and Asia_, being
the imperial arms of Greece, _with crescent for difference_.

Proceed we now to give such few particulars of the dynasty and life of
this imperially descended exile as space permits. Thomas Paleologus,
as the inscription informs us, was second brother to Constantine, last
of the Christian Emperors of Greece. He succeeded his brother the
Emperor John in 1448, and bravely defended his beautiful metropolis
from the unclean foot of the invader, when Mahomet II. laid siege to
it with an immense army; but being abandoned by the reigning princes
of Christendom,--then too busy quarrelling among themselves to help
him,--was unable to repel them, and died fighting like a hero in the
breach 29 May, 1453. His death was followed by the capture of the
royal city, which was forthwith handed over to all the horrors of
pillage and outrage by the Moslem host. Thenceforward the unspeakable
Turk, with his fanatic courage, his slavery, cruelty, and sensual
sloth, settled himself within its delightful precincts, as the future
capital of his dominions, and brought his unsavoury presence into the
community of Christian nationalities, remaining only to become an
unceasing source of sanguinary contention among them, his wretched and
effete government being from time to time saved from summary
extinction, only by the jealousy of his protectors. A notable and
salutary change of circumstances and opinion notwithstanding, and in
strong contrast to the apathy or fear with which the European
potentates viewed the original triumphant entry and settlement of the
disciples of Mahomet into the beautiful city of Constantine four
centuries previously.

In the terrible conflict that resulted in the downfall of
Constantinople, the carnage on both sides was immense. The Greeks
fought with great determination, "the Turks lay dead by heaps upon the
ground, yet other fresh men pressed on still in their places," so that
at last the beleaguered defenders appear to have been borne down by
their force of numbers. Together with this,

"it chanced _Joannes Justinianus_ the Generall to lie wounded in
the arme; who losing much blood, cowardly withdrew himselfe from
the place of his charge, not leaving any to supplie his roome,
and so got into the cittie by the gate called ROMANA, which hee
had caused to be opened in the inner wall, pretending the cause
of his departure to be for the binding up of his wound, but being
indeed a man altogether discouraged. The souldiours there present
dismayed with the departure of their Generall, and sore charged
by the Janizaries, forsooke their stations, and in haste fled to
the same gate, whereby _Justinianus_ was entered, with the sight
whereof, the other souldiours dismayed, ran thither by heapes
also. But whilest they valiantly strive, all together to get in
at once, they so wedged one another in the entrance of the gate,
that few of so great a multitude, got in; in which, so great a
presse and confusion of minds, eight hundred persons were there
by them that followed, troden underfoot, or thrust to death. The
emperor himselfe, for safegarde of his life flying with the rest,
in that presse, as a man not regarded, miserably ended his dayes,
together with the Greek empire. His dead bodie was shortly after
found by the Turkes amongst the slaine, and knowne by his rich
apparell; whose head being cut off, was forthwith presented to
the Turkish tyrant; by whose commaundment it was afterwards
thrust upon the point of a launce, and in great derision caried
about as a trophee of his victorie, first in the campe, and
afterwards up and downe the citie."[47]

[47] "_Generall Historie of the Turkes_," by RICHARD KNOLLES, ed.
1603.

Thus fell Constantinople, and thus perished Constantinus, the eighth
of that name, its last Emperor,

"a prince of a mild and soft spirit fitter for the church than
for the field, who hearing of the great preparation made by the
Turkish king, first made such preparation as his owne small
abilitie would extend unto, and then sent his embassadours unto
other Christian princes earnestly craving their aid, and
assistance in that his dangerous estate. But that labour was
lost, and all his sute vaine; for they being at variance one with
another, and having more care of private revenge, than how to
repulse the common enemie of Christianitie, could not, or would
not afoord him any helpe at all."

All the assistance the poor Emperor had, to resist the cloud of
assailants then fast closing around the doomed city, was from
"certaine ships and gallies" of the Levantine coast then by chance at
Constantinople, among whom was

"_Joannes Justinianus_ an adventurer of Genua, who had been
scouring those seas, with two tall ships, and four hundred
souldiours, where he was entertained by the emperour. And
forasmuch as he was a man honourably descended and supposed to be
of great courage and direction, was by the emperour appointed
Generall of all his forces next unto himselfe. He also
entertained six thousand Greekes; which with three thousand
Venetians, Genowais, and others whom he made stay of, joined unto
the cittizens, was all the weake strength he had to relie upon
for the defence of his state and empire."

The appointment of the Venetian as chief commander was an unfortunate
one, and he exhibited the usual cowardice and treachery when put to
the test, which adventurers usually display, although nothing the
besieged could have done would probably have eventually saved the city
from the host of invaders surrounding it, it being a hopeless conflict
with superior numbers. Those of the citizens whose patriotism inspired
them to confront the enemy, fought with great heroism, but numbers of
others appear to have held aloof, denying their emperor not only their
personal assistance, but also of their substance to pay the
mercenaries to fight for them, and "whoe in their turn refused any
longer to goe to the walls than they were sure of their dayly pay!"
The "wofull emperour," who appears to have done everything in his
power for the defence of the royal city, was thus fighting under
hopeless circumstances, and with the longest odds against him. Over
the frightful cruelty and wickedness that followed in the three days'
sack of Constantinople, after its capture, by the invaders, and their
"abhominable and unspeakable filthinesse," let the hand of Time draw a
veil.

At the period of the fall of Constantinople, Thomas and Demetrius
Paleologi, brothers to the unfortunate Emperor Constantinus,

"governed a great part of Peloponesus, one of the most famous
provinces of Græcia, and these two princes dismaied at their
brothers disaster fortune, began so farre to despaire of their
own estate; and upon the first brute thereof they were about
presently to have fled by sea to Italy."

But they remained, and as misfortunes rarely come alone, their own
subjects just at this juncture rose in arms against them, and in their
extremity they sought for peace at Mahomet's hands, offering to become
his tributaries; and the conqueror sent over one of his generals and
an army and quieted the insurrection. As vassals to the Turk the two
princes lived for a few years (but not in the greatest harmony with
each other), and then hearing that "the Christian princes of the west
were making great preparation against the Turke," refused further
tribute to Mahomet, who thereupon re-entered Peloponnesus, with a
"puissant army," and the Greek princes had to fly for their lives, the
one to Mantinia, and the other to "the strong cittie of Epidaurus, now
called Ragusa." Again they had to sue for peace, which Mahomet, after
stripping them of almost all the little authority they had left, and
imposing further tribute, granted. Not long after this Mahomet was
himself disquieted by rumours of the Christian princes of the west
being about to intervene and drive him out of Greece, and thinking
probably there would be no settled peace for him in the Peloponnesus,
while the Greek princes remained there with any semblance of power,
and the brothers Paleologi being at variance between themselves, and
the promised tribute also not forthcoming, availed himself of the
opportunity to finally subdue it. He therefore marched into those
parts with a large force, reducing the cities, laying waste the
country, and cruelly putting to death thousands of its inhabitants.
Demetrius fled to Sparta, but when Mahomet arrived there, he came out
and "humbly submitted himself with all he had in his power," which so
"pleased the Turkish tyrant, that hee courteously received him, and
comforted him; neverthelesse, hee committed him to safe custodie, and
carried him about with him as his prisoner." Thence after much ravage
and slaughter the Moslem victor, "by the counsell of Demetrius,

'sent one of his captaines, with certaine companies of Greeke
souldiours, unto the strong cittie of Epidaurus, to command them
in the name of the prince, to deliver unto him the citie, with
the prince, his wife, and daughter, that lay there. But the
Governour trusting unto the strength of the citie, refused to
deliver the same; yet suffred the princess with her daughter, to
depart out of the citie, being willing to goe to her husband;
whom the captaine having received, returned and presented them to
_Mahomet_; by whose commandment they were sent into Beotia, there
to attend his returne toward Constantinople, and an eunuch
appointed to take charge of the young ladie who had so warmed
_Mahomet's_ affection, that he tooke her afterwards to his
wife.'"

Thus far for Demetrius. What was Thomas Paleologus, the ancestor of
our Theodorus, about this while? Something very different, and of much
more honourable complexion. He was within and busy fortifying the city
of Salmonica, to which came Zoganus-Bassa, one of Mahomet's
commanders,

"but the castle was by the space of a whole yeare after valiantly
defended against the Turkes left to besiege it, by _Thomas_ the
prince; and which for lacke of water was at length yielded unto
him. Of whom (Prince Thomas) _Mahomet_ afterwards gave this
commendation, 'That in the great countrey of Peloponesus, hee had
found many slaves, but never a man but him.'"

After its surrender, Prince Thomas, "seeing the miserable ruine of his
countrey, and the state thereof utterly forlorne," took ship and
sailed for Italy. He was well received by Pius II. at Rome, who during
his life allowed him a considerable pension for the maintenance of his
state. But what became of Demetrius? Mahomet--his campaign
over--returned with great triumph toward Constantinople,

"carrying with him _Demetrius_ the prince, with his wife and
daughter; but after he was come to Hadrianople, and placed in his
royal seat, he removed the eunuch from the fair young ladie, and
took charge of her himselfe. As for _Demetrius_ her father, hee
gave unto him the citie of Ænum, with custome arising of the salt
there made, as a pension to live upon."

Thus far for these brethren. Lysons adds, "it is probable that
Theodore, the descendant of Prince Thomas, who lies buried at
Landulph, sought an asylum in England in consequence of the hostility
shewn towards the Greeks by Pope Paul V. and his successor Gregory
XV."

PALEOLOGUS.

Imperial eagle! still with glance intent,
Thy necks outstretched, and poising wings as yet,
Claiming to rule o'er each vast continent,
With feet upon their gateways firmly set;
An empire's diadem hangs o'er thy brows,
Yet rests on neither;--as if glory's aim
Waited on fortune to inspire her vows,
And ratify ambition's lofty claim;--
But she smiled not,--death put the chaplet on
Life's brave endeavour, and a hero's fate
Awarded thee instead of victory won,
The martyrs' halo, for the crown of state:
When sank the Cross blood-stained in western sky,
And in the east the Crescent flared on high.

Theodoro Paleologus appears to have married before coming to England,
Eudoxia Comnena, and by her had a daughter called Theodora, born at
Scio 6 July, 1594, and who was married 10 Oct., 1614, to Prince
Demetrius Rhodocanakis, at the Greek church of SS. Peter and Paul,
Naples. But he must have settled in England before 1600, for in that
year, on May 1st, he wedded secondly at Cottingham, in the county of
York, Mary, the daughter of William Balls of Hadleigh in Suffolk,
gent. He appears to have sought public employment, military or civil,
for among the _State Papers, Domestic_, Charles I., there is a letter
from him to the Duke of Buckingham, dated Plymouth, 9 March, 1627-8,
in which he thanks the Duke for the courtesy shewn him at Plymouth,
and prays to be taken into his service. He further states that he is a
gentleman, born of a good house, and in possession of accomplishments
worthy of the name he bears, but unfortunate in the reverse of fortune
experienced by his ancestors and himself; and that he has lived and
shed his blood in war even from his youth, as the late Prince of
Orange, and other noblemen, both English and French, have testified.
He concludes by proffering himself both faithful and competent to
serve the king, and ready to shew gratitude to the duke.[48] This was
only eight years before his death, and when he was probably verging on
old age.

[48] _Monumental Brasses of Cornwall_, by E. H. W. Dunkin.

Inheriting the military aptitude of their race, Theodoro, his eldest
son, entered the service of the Parliament, as lieutenant in the
regiment commanded by Lord St. John, in the army of the Earl of Essex.
He was buried 3 May, 1644, in Westminster Abbey, and according to the
Register of that edifice, "near the Lady St. John's tomb." But of the
Lady St. John's monument, Dean Stanley says, "once in St. Michael's,
now in St. Nicholas's Chapel,"--and further,--"in the Chapel of St.
Andrew, close to the spot where now is the Nightingale monument, lies
Theodore Paleologus."

Ferdinando chose the side of the King, and fought under Major Lower
(probably a member of the Lower family of Clifton) at Naseby, 18 June,
1645, when Lower was killed, and it is supposed John Paleologus fell
by his side. Ferdinando afterward emigrated to Barbados, where his
maternal grandfather had an estate, and there he became proprietor of
a plantation in the parish of St. John, and was for twenty years,
1649-69, surveyor of highways. He made his will in 1670, gives "_to my
loving wife, Rebecca Paleologus, the one half of my plantation, and to
my son Theodorus the other moiety_," to his sisters, "_Mary Paleologus
and Dorothy Arundel each twenty shillings sterling_." He also names
legacies of horses to Edward and Henry Walrond,--a Devonshire name, a
Humphrey Walrond (query, of the Farringdon descent), being President
of the island in 1660. He died about 1680, and was buried in the
church of St. John's. Theodorus his son was a mariner on board the
ship _Charles II._, and died at sea in 1693.[49]

[49] Archer's _Monumental Inscriptions of the British West Indies_.

"The Greeks," says Dean Stanley, "in their War of Independence, sent
to enquire whether any of the family remained, and offered, if such
were the case, to equip a ship and proclaim him for their lawful
sovereign. It is said that a member of the family still remains." This
would relate to the descendants of Ferdinando. How strange would have
been the circumstance had such an undoubted descendant been
discovered, and the imperial eagle again arisen like a phoenix from
the ashes of time, and strove to consolidate the shifting fortunes of
this heroic and struggling people.

Maria, the elder daughter mentioned on the monument, died unmarried in
1674. Dorothy her sister became the wife of William Arundell of St.
Mellion in 1657, and deceased in 1681.

Theodoro Paleologus, as the inscription informs us, died at Clifton,
an old manor house in Landulph. This was originally the seat of a
younger branch of the Arundells of Trerice, and built by Thomas
Arundell (son of Sir Thomas Arundell by Anne Moyle) about the year
1500. From the Arundells it passed to the Killigrews, and successively
to Sir Nicholas Lower and Sir Reginald Mohun, who married the
daughters of Sir Henry Killigrew. Lysons describes it in his time as
still existing,--"with its halls, chapel, &c., but much dilapidated,
and then occupied as a farm house." It has since been wholly pulled
down and rebuilt as a modern farm residence.

At the date of Paleologus' decease, Clifton was evidently in the
occupation of Sir Nicholas Lower, and it is probable the imperial
refugee, with such of his family as remained with him, found a home
under the roof-tree of the knight. Great friendship apparently existed
between the Lowers and the Paleologi, as in his will Sir Nicholas
orders "_Item, I doe give unto Mrs. Maria Paleologus tenne pounds to
be paied unto her within one quarter of a yeare after my
decease_,"--this was the eldest daughter; two of his sons fought under
Major Lower, and the father was buried in the Clifton aisle, and close
by him the testator was himself afterward laid.

Sir Nicholas Lower was a descendant of an old Cornish family, being
the third son of Thomas Lower of St. Winnow by his wife Jane Reskymer;
was knighted by Charles I., 1 June, 1619, and became Sheriff of
Cornwall in 1632. He married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Henry
Killigrew, being her third husband, she having previously wedded Sir
Jonathan Trelawney, of Pool in Menheniot in 1604, and Sir Thomas
Reynell of East Ogwell, 1607.

Sir Nicholas, and his wife Elizabeth Killigrew, are both interred
under a large high-tomb at the east end of the Clifton aisle of
Landulph church. On the cover-stone, which is of black marble, and
very massive, are the following inscriptions:--

HEERE LYES BVRIED THE BODYES
OF SIR NICHOLAS LOWER OF CLIFTON IN LANDVLPH
IN CORNEWALL KNIGHT
WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE
XVII DAYE OF MAY. 1655.

And of Dame Elizabeth his wife
who departed this Life
the vi day of June 1638 aged 68 yeares
and heere Expect a glorious Resurrection.

Arms,--_A chevron between three roses, on the chevron a mullet for
difference_ (LOWER), impaling,--_a double-headed eagle displayed
within a bordure bezantée_ (KILLIGREW). Crest,--_An unicorn's head
couped, thereon a mullet_.

In the east window of the aisle, above the tomb, are the arms of Lower
alone, in painted glass,--_Sable, a chevron between three roses
argent_, with two crests, one LOWER, and the second, _a wolf passant
azure, langued and armed gules_ (RESKYMER?).

[Illustration: PART OF THE LOWER SEATS, LANDULPH CHURCH.]

On the wall over the south Lower seat, are these further inscriptions
on brasses,--

HERE LYETH BVRIED YE BODY OF SIR NICHOLAS LOWER OF CLIFTON
KNIGHT, (DESCENDED OF THE HOVSE OF ST. WINOWE) THE SONNE OF
THOMAS LOWER AND JANE HIS WIFE, ONE OF THE CO-HEYRES OF RESKYMER;
WHO HAD ISSVE SIX SONNES, VIZ: SIR WILLIAM LOWER KNIGHT DECEASED
IN CARMARTHENSHIRE, JOHN LOWER, THE SAID SR NICHOLAS LOWER, SIR
FRANCIS LOWER KNIGHT, THOMAS LOWER DECEASED IN LONDON, AND
ALEXANDER LOWER. HE MARRIED WITH ELIZABETH, ONE OF THE DAVGHTERS
OF SR HENRY KILLEGRVE OF LONDON KNIGHT, DIED WITHOVT ISSVE,
SVRRENDRINGE HIS SOVLE TO HIS REDEEMER AT CLIFTON, YE 17TH OF
MAYE, ANNO DOMINI 1655.

and to his much-married spouse, who pre-deceased him nearly twenty
years, the following quaint tribute to her memory:--

HEERE LYETH BVRIED THE BODY OF DAME ELIZABETH LOWER LATE WIFE
VNTO SIR NICHOLAS LOWER OF CLIFTON, KT, DAVGHTER VNTO SR HENRY
KILLIGREWE OF LONDON, KT, ANTIENTLY DESCENDED FROM YE HOVSE OF
ARWENNICK IN CORNWALL, AND FROM YE YOVNGEST OF YE LEARNED
DAVGHTERS OF SR ANTHONY COOKE, KT, A MAIDE OF HONOVR TO QVEENE
ELIZABETH; WHO FOR TREW VERTVE, PIETY, AND LEARNING, CAME NOTHING
SHORT (THAT I MAY MODESTLY SPEAKE) OF ANY OF HER ANCESTORS, AND
FOR HER SINGVLAR COVRTESIE TO ALL, AND AMIABLE SVBIECTION TO HER
HVSBAND (A VERTVE RARE AND HIGH) I THINKE CAN HARDLY BE MATCH'D,
WHO DESERVES A FAR AMPLER CHARACTER THEN CAN BE CONTAINED IN SO
NARROW A ROOME: SHE DYED AT CLIFTON IN CORNWALL, THE SIXT DAY OF
JVNE IN THE YEARE OF OVR LORD, 1638, AND EXPECTS HEERE A GLORIOVS
RESVRRECTION.

The two representative "squires' pews" we glanced at on our way down
the aisle, and in which presumably the old knight, his dame, and their
dependants performed their devotions, when they were in the flesh, and
resident at Clifton, accompanied it may be by his imperially descended
friend,--are situate a little above their last resting places. Some of
the middle panels exhibit the linen pattern, a late example of this
last remnant of pointed design. Alternating with these are several
filled with floriated ornament, having in their centres shields,
continued also on the cornice above, displaying the descent and
alliances of Lower.

On the first seat,--1. _A chevron between three roses_ (LOWER). --2.
_Per fess, three pears in base, in chief a demi-lion rampant_
(PERROTT).--3. _Three castles_ (KESTELL).--4. _An annulet surmounted
by a mullet._--5. _Three chevrons ermine_ (ESSE?).--6. _A chevron
engrailed, between three talbots passant_ (CARVETH or TREGASSAWE).--7.
_A chevron between three trefoils, stems erazed._--8. _Two bars, in
chief three roundels._--9. _A fess fretty._--10. _A cross moline_
(UPTON?).--11. _A chevron between three birds._--12. _A chevron
between three boars' heads_.--13. _A chevron between three moors'
heads affrontée, couped at the shoulders_ (TREGENNA?).--14, as 1. On
the second seat,--1. _A double-headed eagle displayed, within a
bordure bezantée_ (KILLIGREW).--2. _Three bars, in chief a wolf
passant_ (RESKYMER).--3. _Three bends_(BODRUGAN).--4. _Three bends
within a bordure bezantée_ (VALLETORT).--5. _A bend, a label of three_
(CARMINOW).--6. _A chevron, a label of three_(PRIDEAUX).--7. _A
crescent surmounted by a mullet_ (DENZELL).--8. _A boar passant,
between three mullets_ (TREVARTHIAN?).--9. _A cross between four
mullets_ (FLAMANK?).--10. _A fess indented, between three
mullets._--11. _A stag's head_ (TRETHURFFE?).--12. _A calf passant_
(CAVELL).--13. LOWER. The crest, _an unicorn's head couped at the
shoulders_, in full relief at the corners, and the initials N.L. and
E.L., together with the date 1631, is carved on the panels. LOWER
impaling KILLIGREW appears also on the brasses. The character of the
carving is superior for the era, and its subjects heraldically
interesting.

A few words further here concerning two immediate descendants of
this,--at the time,--numerous Cornish race, who acquired some renown,
the one in amusing, and the other in preserving this transitory life
of ours. John Lower of Tremeer, brother to Sir Nicholas, had a son Sir
William, a cavalier strongly attached to the royal cause. He was a
dramatist, and retired to Holland during the Commonwealth that he
might enjoy peaceful companionship with the muses. He was a great
admirer of the French poets, particularly Corneille, and on their
works built the plans of four out of the eight plays which he wrote.
He also issued translations from the French, and edited a _Journal_ of
the movements of Charles II. while in exile. He subsequently possessed
Clifton as heir-general of the family, on the decease without issue of
Thomas Lower (the son of Sir William Lower, Sir Nicholas' brother), to
whom Sir Nicholas left it. He died in 1662. Richard Lower, the other
descendant, was a celebrated London physician, and the author among
other works of a "_Treatise on the Heart_," which "attracted much
notice, in consequence of the chapter on the transfusion of blood
which the author had practised." He died in 1690, and was buried at
St. Tudy.

Here we conclude such notices of the lives, deaths, and memorials of
the Paleologi, and their friend the old knight at Clifton and his
family as have been found available. Have you anything further to say
of them, you ask, ere we leave the little sanctuary? What _can_ there
be said further--would be the obvious reply--concerning those whose
lives, deaths, burial-places and memorials, have all been duly noticed
and recorded? Well, for once, not even the fastness of the grave will
be proof against some additional remembrances of the Paleologi.

Man's curiosity is unbounded and insatiable. No place or association
is altogether safe from the intrusion of his prying eyes and
ransacking fingers, if he thinks there is anything likely to be found
therein calculated to gratify its longings, and he gets the chance, or
has permission to make the search. In this particular he follows in
the trail of death as being no respecter of persons, but with this
ignoble difference to the great conqueror, that he waits until the
life is gone before he seeks to assuage his morbid longings by an
invasion of the bodies of his forefathers. It would be supposed the
sanctity of death and the rest of the grave would naturally be
privileged, but no, they have rather stimulated his curiosity, and so
have found little or no consideration in his sight. The
cunningly-embalmed Egyptian potentate in his burial fortress of the
great pyramid,--his humble spice-wound subject in his rock-hewn
sepulchre,--the Roman emperor in his grand mausoleum,--Greek hero in
costly sarcophagus,--British chieftain in flint-piled barrow,--mediæval
saint in shrine, and king, ecclesiastic or noble in their ponderous
stone coffins,--all have in turn been subjected to this unfeeling
scrutiny, and the poor dust and mouldering bones rummaged over by
irreverent hands, very few indeed escaping violation, sometimes for hope
of plunder, but usually for idle curiosity, and the indulgence of
relic-hunting propensities. And yet, perhaps, there is scarcely anything
the living heart would more shrink from contemplating, than the
possibility of such indignity being offered to the frail decaying
tenement it had beat in, after death; a sentiment shared in common by
the greatest intellects and humblest minds,--but that does not avert the
outrage.[50]

[50] "About a year ago, there was a wonderful discovery of an
antient tomb at Sidon, containing over a dozen sarcophagi. Many
of them are described as being in the finest style of art, and
formed after the Greek manner. Among them was a royal one, and on
it was an inscription of which the following is the
translation:--'_I, Talnite, Priest of Astarte, and King of Sidon,
lying in this tomb, say: 'Come not to open my tomb; there is
neither gold, nor silver, nor treasure. He who will open this
tomb shall have no prosperity under the sun, and shall not find
rest in the grave._' This expresses the old yearning to be at
rest; but the belief in wealth deposited in royal tombs has
always frustrated the realization of these desires. Now-a-days
the archæologist is the greatest desecrator." (_Daily News_, 4
March, 1888.) The anathema on Shakspeare's gravestone is another
well-known example of this dread.

The ashes of the Paleologi have not escaped this common danger of
being examined, the father's here on this bank of the Tamar, and by
curious coincidence, the son's in the distant island of Barbados, but
no indignity was offered the remains. At Landulph, toward the close of
the last century, "when the vault was accidentally opened, the coffin
of Paleologus was seen, a single oak coffin, and curiosity prompting
to lift the lid, the body of Paleologus was discovered, and in so
perfect a state, as to ascertain him to have been in stature much
above the common height, his countenance of an oval form, much
lengthened, and strongly marked by an aquiline nose, and a very white
beard reaching low on the breast." A physiognomy and stature eminently
representative of his imperial descent, and how remarkably preserved
after the lapse of nearly two centuries. In 1831 a hurricane destroyed
the church of St. John in Barbados. In a vault under the organ-loft
was discovered "the leaden coffin of Ferdinando Paleologus, in the
position adopted by the Greek church, which is the reverse of others.
It was opened on the 3rd of May, 1844, and in it was found a skeleton
of remarkable size, imbedded in quicklime, thus shewing, that although
Ferdinando may have accommodated himself to the circumstances of his
position, he died in the faith of his own church."[51] He thus appears
to have been of commanding appearance as his father.

[51] Archer.

Before we leave the little edifice, a look into the tower, and a
glance under the communion table. Two incidents attendant on the
perils of access to Landulph's maritime position meet the eye. In the
chancel a flat stone commemorates the fate of a former rector,
"_Edward Ameredith, who married Alice, the fourth daughter of William
Kekewitch of Catchfrench in Cornewall, Esquire; 8th of May,
1661,--being drowned in passing the Ryuer_." Within the tower a tablet
erected a hundred years later is thus inscribed,--

Near this place Lies the Body of
Fitz-Anthony Pennington, Bell-Founder,
of the Parish of Lezant in Cornwall,
who departed this Life, April 30, 1768.
_Ætatis suæ_ 38.

Tho' Boisterous Winds & Billows sore,
Hath Tos'd me To and Fro,
By God's Decree in spite of both,
I rest now, here below.

At the top of the monument is incised a winged angel with a trumpet,
supporting a man bearing a church bell; at the bottom a laver-pot
flaming; both being emblems of his vocation. Fitz-Anthony Pennington,
member of a noted family of bell-founders, was also unfortunately
drowned. This occurred at Anthony passage,--a somewhat dangerous creek
further down the river,--while conveying across a church bell intended
to be set up at Landulph. The curious doggerel in praise and
regulation of ringing, that is inscribed on a large wooden tablet
opposite the monument, is said locally to be an effusion from his pen,
but it has a much earlier date. The Penningtons were successively of
Exeter, Lezant, and Stoke-Climsland, and itinerated as occasion
required. They cast nearly five hundred bells for the churches in
Devon and Cornwall, between the end of the seventeenth and the first
quarter of the nineteenth centuries.

Imperialist or Republican? Such are the echoes that quest the mental
ear from the opposite sides of the Tamar, as our little craft gets
well out into mid-stream, and we make for the creek that runs inland
on the shore immediately facing Landulph. Here dwelled an antient
family, in Domesday survey called Alured Brito, afterward named from
the place of their residence De Budockshed (since provincialized to
Butshead or Budshead), and who continued there from the time of King
John downward for fourteen generations, until about the middle of the
sixteenth century, when the inheritance passed by a distaff to the
possession of another old race (also having antecedents near), named
Gorges. The venerable home of the Budocksheds has been destroyed, but
two fine old barns--one of grand proportions--and a picturesque
granite gateway, still remain to attest its aforetime importance.
Winifred, one of the daughters and coheirs of Roger Budockshed, Esq.
(who married Frances daughter of Sir Philip Champernowne of Modbury),
the last possessor of that name of the mansion and manor; brought it
to her husband Sir William Gorges, knt., a Vice-Admiral, Deputy of
Ireland, and a Gentleman Pensioner of Queen Elizabeth. He was a scion
of the wide-spreading Somersetshire family of that name, and had three
sons,--Tristram, Arthur, and Edward. Dying in 1583, he left it to his
son Tristram, who married Elizabeth daughter of Martin Cole of
Cole-Anger. He had one son William, and four daughters, two of whom
married Courtenays of the Landrake descent, and another Trelawney.
William died without issue, and disinheriting his sisters, "conveyed
Budoke-side," says Pole, "unto Sr Arthur his unkle, and hee hath
lately sold it." Sir Arthur Gorges was of Chelsea, he disposed of the
old possession to the Trevills, a family of prosperous Plymouth
merchants. In the Budockshed aisle of the church is a handsome
monument to them, which bears the following inscription:--

Here Lyeth Bvried the Body of Richard Trevill, Esqr.,
who died Avgvst the XXVI., 1648. Aged 73.

Here Lyeth Bvried the Bodyes of Richard Trevill, Esqr.,
Nephew and Heire of the Aforesaid Richard,
who died April the 4th, 1662. Aged 51.
And also of Mary his Wife,
who died the XXV. day of Febrvary, 1663. Aged 57.

Here Lyeth Bvried the Body of Richard Trevill, Esq.,
Sonn of the said Richard and Mary,
who died Janvary the XIX. 1665. Aged 19.

This Monvment was Erected by William Trevill, of Bvtshead, Esq.,
in the year of ovr Lord 1667, to Perpetuate ye memorie
of his Worshipfull Predecessors and Relations here buried.

Arms,--_Or, a cross sable, debruised by a bendlet azure_ (TREVILL),
impaling,--_Argent, a chevron gules, between three birds (coots or
moorcocks), sable._

On ledger-lines upon flat stones below, the first and second of the
foregoing inscriptions are repeated, with the arms of Trevill
sculptured. In their centres are these further notices:--

Also Here Lyeth The Body of
William Trevill of Butshead, Esq., Father of Lethbridge Trevill,
who departed this Life the 18th Day of May, 1680.

Also Here Lyeth the Body of
Lethbridge Trevill, Son of William Trevill of Butshead, Esq.,
who departed this Life 27th of February, 1699.

The name of Trevill is still perpetuated in a street in Plymouth.

From the Trevills, by a distaff, it became the property of
Brigadier-General Trelawney, whence it descended to his son Sir Harry
Trelawney, Bart., _aide-de-camp_ to the celebrated Duke of
Marlborough. This gentleman "for many years led a retired life at
Budshead, where he amused himself with planting and gardening, having
been the first person who brought ornamental gardening to any
perfection in the west of England. His gardens, which abounded with
American and other exotic shrubs and plants, were much resorted to by
the curious." (Lysons.) Some remains of his taste still exist, and an
old yew garden, once having a fishpond in its centre, and one or two
noble trees of unmistakably foreign origin, still hale and vigorous.

This genealogical recital brings us to "the middle of our song."
William Gorges, the last local possessor of Budockshed, was cousin to
the celebrated Sir Ferdinando Gorges, the Founder of the State of
Maine, U.S.A., and for some years Governor of Plymouth. He was also
identified with St. Budeaux, both by property and marriage; first, by
being owner of the manor of Kinterbury in that parish, and secondly,
one of his four wives having been Elizabeth, sister of William Gorges
of Budockshed, and widow of Edward Courtenay. Sir Ferdinando, whose
history and proceedings are largely interwoven with the stirring
movements of his time, both of warlike character at home, and
colonization and enterprise abroad, died 14 May, 1647, and was buried
at Long-Ashton, near Bristol.

In the Budockshed aisle of the church of St. Budeaux, is a beautiful
monument to the memory of that family and their immediate successors,
the Gorges. It consists of a high-tomb, with pillars at the angles,
the cover-stone of slate finely carved, and a reredos of exquisite
Elizabethan design. On it are these arms,--1. _Sable, three fusils in
fess, between three stags' faces argent. Crest,--A moor's head
affrontée proper_ (BUDOCKSHED).--2. Quarterly,--1 and 4. _Lozengy or
and azure, a chevron gules, a crescent for difference_ (GORGES).--2.
and 3. _Argent, a bull passant sable, within a bordure of the second
bezantée_ (COLE).--3. GORGES, with crest,--_a greyhound's head couped
at the shoulders, and collared, with crescent for difference_.--4.
GORGES and BUDOCKSHED quarterly.--5. BUDOCKSHED, with crest. The
original inscription, which was probably gilded on it, had
disappeared, but the sculptured date, 1600, remains.

The monument had become greatly dilapidated, but was restored in 1881,
and the following inscription then cut on it,--

Roger Budockshed, of Budockshed, Esquire, obiit 1576.
Sir William Gorges, Knight, obiit 1583.
Dame Winifred Gorges, ob: 1599.
Tristram Gorges, of Budockshed, Esquire, ob: 1607.
Mrs. Elizabeth Gorges, ob: 1607.

Restored 1881: chiefly at the expense of
the Historical Society and Citizens of the State of Maine, U.S.A.;
in memory of Sir Ferdinando Gorges,
the first Proprietor and Governor of that Province, A.D. 1635;
aided by some connections of the Gorges family in England.

[Illustration: PANEL FROM THE GORGES TOMB. ST. BUDEAUX CHURCH.]

Singularly coincident,--as with the Paleologi at Landulph, so with
the second of the Gorges of Budockshed,--the recital of his life and
burial does not end all we have to say of him. In speaking of "St.
Buddocks," as Risdon calls it, he narrates the following:--

"The church of this parish once stood in a remote and unhealthy
place by the river side, but Robert Budshed rebuilt it in a place
more convenient, at his own cost; whereof (see the fate!) his own
daughter first possessed the place for her burial; and in this
church there is a tomb erected to the memory of Tristram Gorges
and Elizabeth his wife, daughter of Cole, which about thirty
years after his funeral was taken up by occasion of burying
another of that tribe in his sepulture; in whose coffin digged
up, the carcass was found with the flesh fallen on his ridge-bone
like a jelly, there lying all his bones in order, as they that
were eye-witnesses have delivered."[52]

[52] Robert Budockshed thus spoken of as builder of the present
church of St. Budeaux, married Anne daughter of Sir Thomas
Pomeroy, knt., and lived three generations before Roger of the
monument. Lysons says it was rebuilt in 1563, the era of _Roger_
Budockshed. Tradition records that the former church was at
Budockshed.

Enow of death and his doings. Now for the lesson of reflection that
the lives and aims of the principal characters in this little story of
to-day's wandering suggest to us. We take a farewell view from the
delightful acclivity on which the church of St. Budeaux is situate,
with panorama of the wide-spreading Tamar and its ramifications at our
feet, and the great Cornish hills retreating inimitably in the
distance beyond;--then slowly retrace our steps down to the river's
side at Budockshed, and are soon again afloat, half-drifting,
half-sailing, making for our haven at Saltash passage. Another and
strange dream of the vicissitudes of human life, finds its fulfilment
in the one case over the grave of the imperial exile at rest among the
peasantry of the hamlet in the little sanctuary yonder. Driven from
his native clime,--bereft of all his kingly traditions,--the splendid
empire he may have been born to rule the possession of the barbarian
invader,--himself dependant on the bounty of a stranger,--and his
royal name extinct,--such was the fate of Paleologus; conditions which
instruct us, that the same inexorable law of mutability affects
equally a dynasty, whether its residence be in a palace or a cottage.
There is no station privileged against the misfortunes that afflict
our common mortal conditions.

But what of the emigrant commemorated at St. Budeaux, Sir Ferdinando?
He voluntarily left his English home to help found the magnificent
commonwealth, that in a single century has absorbed a whole continent,
in extent infinitely larger than the realms the Constantines in their
fullest glory presided over, and whose existence was altogether
unknown when their last representative lost his crown and his life.
How different the errands of these men in their migrations from their
native land. But no emperor rules the destinies of the nation he
helped to found; the charm of simple and equal citizenship is the
secret of its strength; and while the memorial of Paleologus is viewed
with curious sympathy by the wayfarer, as being only the interesting
reminder of an extinct rule,--the tomb of Gorges has been renovated
by the descendants of those pioneers he helped to conduct across the
broad Atlantic, and left with them the deathless heritage of liberty
and progress.

Again we are enveloped in the gloom of the great bridge, another
pleasant day's voyaging is ended, and as our foot touches the shore, a
suggestive farewell thought follows us across the river, bearing on
its wing the motto inscribed on the sun-dial over the porch of the
church of St. Budeaux:--

"EX HOC MOMENTO PENDET ÆTERNITAS."

Upon this moment--here we part,
Until the coming dawn arise
And we are spared,--nay, do not start,
The present moment as it flies
Is all the dower Life gives the heart,
All that the miser Time supplies.

Upon this moment--yon bridge vast,
That spans the deep and darkling tide,
To that frail link which joins at last
Life to eternity so wide,
Is as the gossamer, that's cast
Across the green dell's dewy side.

Upon this moment--warm hands greet,
Though glance be hid by shadows dim,
Hark to those fisher children! sweet
Singing their votive evening hymn,--
Their dreams will be again to meet,
All undisturbed by truth so grim.

No sword of Damocles infest
Life's subtle thread of moments spun,
This day is ours--with loving zest
Cease not 'till all its work be done,
Then fold thy hands, and take thy rest,
And calmly wait to-morrow's sun.

[Illustration]

RESURGAM

[Illustration: Portrait]

INDEX.

Abbotsbury Abbey Church, 145.

Alcester Church, Greville monument in, 29.

Aller Church, Bottreaux monument in, 148.

Ameredith, Edward, his epitaph, 202.

Anstis, Sir John, 5_n_.

Arms on Arundell monument in St. Columb Church, 68;
of Astley, 73;
Beauchamp, 31;
Beaumont, 148;
Bec or Beke, 23, 29, 30;
Bigbury, 30;
Bodrugan, 200;
Bonville, 79;
Bottreaux, 148;
Broughton, 133;
Budockshed, 204;
Carminow, 168, 200;
Carveth, 199;
Cavell, 200;
Champernowne, 16, 30;
Cheney, 7, 8, 23, 29, 30, 123_n_, 128, 130, 133_n_;
Cifrewast, 30, 141;
Cole, 204;
D'Aumarle, 30, 140;
De Arches, 168;
Denys, 83;
Denzell, 200;
Dinham, 168;
Drake, 82;
Echyngham, 81;
Erleigh, 8;
Esse, 199;
Ferrers, 30;
Fitz-James, 166;
Fitz-Roger, 43;
Flamank, 200;
Forde, 41;
Gorges, 204;
Grenville, Greynville, 83, 140;
Greville, 30;
Grey, Marquis of Dorset, 73;
Harington, 74, 79;
Hastings, 59, 73;
Kestell, 199;
Killigrew, 198, 200;
Latimer, 23, 29, 30;
Lower, 198, 199;
Maltravers, 30, 140;
Newburgh, 166;
Paleologus, 193;
Paveley, 4, 8, 29, 30;
Perrott, 199;
Peyvre, 131, 133, 133_n_;
Plantagenet, 74;
Prideaux, 83, 200;
Quincy, 73;
Reskymer, 198, 200;
Rogers, 81;
Shaftesbury Abbey, 166;
Shotisbrooke, 123_n_;
Shurland, 128, 130;
Stafford, 23, 30, 31, 74, 143, 146;
Tregassawe, 199;
Tregenna, 199;
Trethurffe, 200;
Trevarthian, 200;
Trevill, 203;
Ufford, 23, 29, 30;
Upton, 199;
Valence, 73;
Valletort, 200;
Widville, 74;
Willoughby, 23, 30, 33;
Earl of Wilts, 74.

Arundell family, 158.

Arundell, Elizabeth, 168;
Humphrey, 170, executed, 171;
Sir John, 67, 148, 159, 170,
his epitaph, 69,
his children, 160,
his death, 165;
Sir Matthew, 179;
Sir Renfrey, 5_n_;
Sir Thomas, 198;
Sir Thomas, Lord, 163, 179,
his house at Shaftesbury, 168,
manors granted him by Lord Daubeney, 169,
suspected of rebellion, 170,
committed to the Tower, 171,
released, 172,
again imprisoned, 173,
condemned to death, 175,
executed, 177,
his children, 178,
his estates attainted and restored to his widow, 178,
created Baron A. of Wardour, 180,
his epitaph, 180,
his descendants, 180;
William, 197.

Arundell brass in St. Columb Church, 178.

Arundell inscription at Tisbury, 180.

Arundell tombs in Tisbury Church, 179.

Astley Church, presumed Bonville effigy in, 80.

Astley, Alice, 16.

Astley arms, 73.

Audley, Hugh de, 139_n_;
Margaret, 139;
Thomas, Lord, 75.

Axminster Church, 79.

Balls, Mary, 192, 196.

Barry, Isabel, 152.

Barwick Church, 80.

Beauchamp Chapel, Salisbury, 127.

Beauchamp family, 25.

Beauchamp, Bishop, 127;
Elizabeth, 24;
John, 41;
Richard, his arms, 31.

Beaufort, Margaret, 89.

Beaumont, Elizabeth, 147;
Katharine, 42;
Matilda, 47.

Beaumont arms, 148.

Bedyke, Isabel, 10.

Beer-Ferrers, 17;
church, 19, arms in, 32.

Beke, Bec, Alice, 10;
Anthony, 10.

Beke arms, 23, 29, 30.

Bigbury, Elizabeth, 16.

Bigbury arms, 30.

Blue Boar Inn, Salisbury, 109.

Blount, Charles, 25, 35;
Elizabeth, 66;
William, 67.

Bodrugan, Sir Henry, 18;
Johanna, 41.

Bodrugan arms, 200.

Bodrugan Castle, 18.

Bohun, Mary de, 88.

Bonville, Anne, 62;
Cicely, 25, 26, 51, 63, 159,
her second marriage, 74,
her will, 74,
her numerous memorials, 78;
John, 62;
Margaret, 81;
Nicholas, 40;
Sir Nicholas, 83;
Thomas, 5, 62;
Sir William, Lord, his will, 43,
birth and baptism, 44,
dispute with Lady Brooke, 46,
his family, 47,
created a Baron, 47,
duel with Earl of Devon, 49,
custodian of Henry VI., 60,
beheaded, 62,
place of burial unknown, 62;
William, 50, slain, with his son, at Wakefield, 61.

Bonville family, 40;
extinction of, 63;
illegitimate branch of, 63_n_.

Bonville arms, 79.

Bonville-Nonant monument in Broad-Clyst Church, 41.

Bosworth, Battle of, 123.

Bottreaux, Anne, 147;
Margaret, 148;
Reginald, 147, his epitaph in Aller Church, 148;
Thomas, 25;
William, 147.

Bottreaux arms, 148.

Bottreaux tomb in North-Cadbury Church, 147.

Bourchier, Sir Thomas, his epitaph, 152.

Brandon, Frances, 76.

Brienne, Elizabeth, 147.

Britford Church, Buckingham's monument in, 109, 117.

Broad-Clyst Church, monument in, 41.

Broke Chantry in Westbury Church, 6.

Broke and Suthwyke granted to Sir R. Radcliffe, 11.

Brooke Hall, 3,
as described by Leland, 3,
and by Aubrey, 4.

Broughton, Anne, 128, 132;
Sir John, 131.

Broughton arms, 133.

Bruse, Giles, his epitaph, 134.

Bryanstone Church, Rogers epitaph in, 81.

Buckingham, Duke of--_see_ Stafford.

Budockshed, Roger, 204;
Winifred, 203.

Budockshed family, 202.

Budockshed aisle in St. Budeaux Church, 204,
monument in, 204.

Budockshed arms, 204.

Butler, James, 147.

Callington, 21.

Callington cross, 24.

Camoys, Matilda, 48.

Cardinham, Isolda, 16.

Carew, Sir Thomas, 42.

Carminow, Joan, 19;
Matilda, 16, 20;
Sir Ralph, his brass in Menheniot Church, 41;
Sir Roger, 19.

Carminow arms, 168, 200.

Carrant, William, 10.

Carveth arms, 199.

Catesby, Richard, 56.

Cavell arms, 200.

Champernowne, Champernon, Alexander, 16;
Sir Arthur, 82;
Blanche, 9, 16;
Frances, 203;
Johanna, 41;
John, 21;
Sir Richard, 44;
Roger, 21.

Champernowne family, 16.

Champernowne arms, 16, 30.

Charleton, Walter, 42.

Cheney, Agnes, her epitaph, 122_n_;
Anne, 9, 10,
her epitaph, 133;
Cicely, 81;
Sir Edmund, 148;
Sir Henry, Lord, 129, 133_n_;
Jane, her epitaph, 134;
Sir John, Lord, 11, 121, 169,
joins Buckingham's conspiracy, 123,
his arms, 123_n_,
overthrown at Bosworth, 124,
created a Knight Banneret, K.G.,
and Baron, 125,
his death, 127,
succeeded by Sir Thomas, 127,
his effigy, 127;
Sir Ralph, 4, his tomb in Edington Church, 8;
Sir Thomas, 127, 128,
his children, 128,
his epitaph, 132;
Sir William, 42.

Cheney family, 4, 5, 121, 148.

Cheney arms, 7, 8, 23, 29, 30, 123_n_, 128, 130, 133_n_.

Cheney monument in Toddington Church, 132.

Chickett-Hall in Callington, 22.

Chidiock, Katharine, 148.

Cifrewast arms, 30, 141.

Clement, Richard, 70.

Clifton in Landulph, 197.

Cobham, Sir John, 42.

Cocks, Walter, 79.

Cole, Elizabeth, 203; William, 203.

Cole arms, 204.

Coleshill, Joanna, 5;
Sir John, 5, 5_n_, his epitaph, 6_n_.

Collingbourn, Sir William, 2.

Constantinople, fall of, 194.

Constantinus VIII. slain, 193.

Conway, Sir John, 28.

Copestan, ----, 16.

Coplestone, Philip, 44, 63.

Courtenay, Edward, Sir Edward, 190, 204;
Elizabeth, 48, 50, 81;
Henry, 150;
Hugh, Sir Hugh, 47, 190;
John, 150;
Thomas, 60, his sons, 149;
Sir William, 48.

Courtenays, the, 11.

Courtenay estates forfeited and restored, 152.

Cralle, Elizabeth, 121.

Crips, Nicholas, 128.

Crukerne, Amy, 82.

Culpeper, Joyce, 162;
Sir Thomas, 162.

D'Aumarle, Elizabeth, 140;
Margaret, 41.

D'Aumarle arms, 30, 140.

Daldich, Roger de, 40.

Daltery, Dautry, ----, 17;
Sir Francis, 26.

Daubeney, Giles, Sir Giles, Lord, 11, 12, 15, 67, 123, 159,
governor of Calais, 13;
Henry, 168;
Katharine, 16, 44.

Dauney, Emmeline, 190.

De Arches arms, 168.

De la Mare, Peter, 140.

Denis, Dennis, Margaret le, 16;
Philippa, 82.

Denys arms, 83.

Densloe, Elizabeth, 82.

Denton, Anne, 27.

Denzell arms, 200.

Devereux, Walter, 67.

Dinham, Sir John, 140,
his probable effigy, 140_n_;
John, Lord, 152, 159;
Katharine, 67.

Dinham arms, 168.

Dorrington manor, 165.

Dorset, Marquis of--_see_ Grey.

Dorset aisle in Ottery Church, 78.

Drake, John, 81;
Richard, portrait of, 83_n_;
Robert, 81, his descendants, 82, his monument at Southleigh, 82.

Drake arms, 82.

East-Coker Window, Arundell arms in, 181.

Echyngham, Anne de, 81.

Echyngham arms, 81.

Edgcumbe, Richard, 17, 18.

Edington Church, 8.

Edington, William de, 9.

Edward V., conspiracy against, 91.

Elliot, John, 44.

Erleigh arms, 8.

Esse arms, 199.

Faringdon, John, 41.

Ferrers, Elizabeth, 43;
Joan, 16, 22;
Sir John, 17;
Margery de, 19;
Matilda de, 19;
Reginald de, 19;
Sir William de, 17, 19, his window and tomb, 20.

Ferrers family, 16.

Ferrers arms, 30.

Filliol, Sir William, 5.

Fitzalan, Henry, 75;
John, 145;
Catherine, 76;
William, 24.

Fitzgerald, Gerald, 69.

Fitzjames family, 166;
arms, 166.

Fitz-Roger, Elizabeth, 43, 44.

Fitz-Roger arms, 43.

Flamank arms, 200.

Fleming, Christopher, 16.

Forde, Hawise de la, 41.

Forde arms, 41.

Fortescue, Margaret, 129.

Fowell, Joan, 82.

Frome, Joan, 5.

Frost, William, 18.

Frowyke, Frideswide, 128.

Fulford, Sir Humphrey, 44.

Gloucester, Richard, Duke of, his conspiracy, 90;
proclaimed king, 98;
Buckingham's conspiracy against, 99.

Gorges, Arthur, 203;
Edward, 203;
Elizabeth, 204;
Sir Ferdinando, 204;
Leva, 43;
Tristram, 203, 204;
William, Sir William, 203, 204;
Winifred, 204.

Gorges arms, 204.

Govys, John, 42.

Graville, ----, 17.

Grenville, Greynville, Alice, 140;
Amy, 81;
Katharine, 68, 159;
William, 47, 139.

Grenville arms, 83, 140.

Greville, Blanche, 28;
Catherine, 28;
Edward, 27, 28, his arms, 30;
Eleanor, 28;
Lady Elizabeth, 169;
Fulk, Sir Fulk, 27, 28, 31,
his monument in Alcester Church, 29,
his arms, 30,
created Baron Brooke and Earl of Warwick, 31,
murdered, 31;
Margaret, 31;
Mary, 28;
Robert, 28.

Greville arms, 30.

Grey, Anne, 85, 178;
Dorothy, 25;
Sir Edward, 80;
Elizabeth, 52, 159;
Muriel, 74;
Thomas and his children, 66;
Thomas, Marquis of Dorset, 11, 123,
his death, 73,
his will, 73,
his arms, 73,
his descendants, 75;
Thomas, second Marquis, his will, 75.

Gyvernay, Henry de, 79.

Haccombe Church, 19.

Haccombe, Sir Stephen de, 19.

Hampton, Joan, 40.

Harington, Elizabeth, 50.

Harington arms, 74, 79.

Harris, William, 28.

Hastings, Anne, 52, 53;
George, 111;
Katharine, Lady, her will, 58;
Sir William de, 51;
William, Lord, 123,
amours with Jane Shore, 54,
loyal to Edward IV., 54,
his children, 54, 58,
beheaded, 57,
his will, 58.

Hastings arms, 59, 73.

Haughton, Sir William, 5_n_.

Herbert, Henry, Lord, 76;
Sir Walter, 111.

Hext, Thomas, 44.

Hill, Elizabeth, 5.

Hiwis, Emma, 5_n_.

Holland, Anne, 52, 66, 89.

Hooke Church, 33.

Hooke House, 141.

Hooper, William, 81.

Houndalre, Leonard, 42.

Howard, Lord Edward, 162;
Katharine, 164, 168;
Margaret, 161.

Hungerford, Mary, 53;
Robert, Lord, 148;
Walter, 11.

Kekewich, Alice, 202.

Kemp, Thomas, 128.

Kestell arms, 199.

Keys, Martin, 76.

Killigrew, Elizabeth, 198;
Sir Henry, 198.

Killigrew arms, 198, 200.

Kings-Carswell Church, effigies in, 140_n_.

Kirkham, Margaret, 5.

Knightstone in Ottery, 79.

Lamborn, William, 5.

Landulph Church, 189,
heraldry in, 190,
inscriptions in, 202.

Latimer, Elizabeth, 10;
John, Lord, 26_n_;
Richard, Lord, 26_n_;
William, Lord, 26_n_.

Latimer arms, 23, 29, 30.

Lewkenor, Sir Roger, 148.

Limington Church, 79.

Loddiswell Rectory, 168.

Lovel, Lord, his mysterious death, 126.

Lovell, Maud, 147.

Lower, John, 200;
Major, 197;
Sir Nicholas, 192,
his descent, 198,
his will, 198,
his epitaph, 198, 199;
Richard, 200;
Thomas, 198, 200;
Sir William, 200.

Lower arms, 198, 199.

Maltravers, Elizabeth, 5, 140.

Maltravers arms, 30, 140.

Menheniot Church, Carminow brass in, 41.

Meriet, Agnes de, 41.

Minster Church, Sheppey, 132.

Mohun, Sir Reginald, 198.

Morley, Lord, 13.

Morton, Cardinal, 99,
his birthplace, 115,
his place of burial, 116,
his tomb, 116, 123.

Moyle, Anne, 198.

Nanfan, Sir John, 5_n_.

Neville, Anne, 31, 89;
Elizabeth, 10;
George, Sir George, 26_n_, 51, 60, 128;
Katharine, 50, 60;
Margaret, 26;
Sir Thomas, 60.

Newburgh arms, 166.

Nonant, Sir Roger de, 41.

North-Bradley Church, Stafford Chapel in, 142.

North-Cadbury Church, Bottreaux tomb in, 147.

Okebeare, Richard, 41.

Ottery Church, Dorset aisle in, 78.

Paleologus, Dorothy, 197;
Ferdinando, his will, 197,
his children, 197,
his coffin opened, 201;
Maria, 197;
Theodore, his epitaph, 192,
his family, 193, seeks service
in England, 196,
his wives, 196,
his sons, Theodoro, Ferdinand, and John, 197,
his coffin opened, 201;
Thomas and Demetrius, their subjection to the Turks, 195.

Paleologus arms, 193.

Paulet, John, 25.

Paveley, Alice, 7;
Joan, 5, 7, 9.

Paveley family, 4, 9.

Paveley arms, 4, 8, 29, 30.

Payne, Stephen, his brass in Shaftesbury Church, 166.

Pennington, Fitz-Anthony, his epitaph, 202.

Perrott, Sir John, 128.

Perrott arms, 199.

Petre, Sir William, 81.

Peyvre, Mary, 128, 131.

Peyvre family, 130.

Peyvre arms, 131, 133, 133_n_.

Peyvre monument in Toddington Church, 131.

Pinhoe, Stretch's Chapel at, 5.

Plantagenet, Anne, 88.

Plantagenet arms, 74.

Plymouth, 183.

Pole, John, 84.

Pomeroy, Anne, 205_n_.

Powderham Church, arms of Courtenay and Bonville in, 65.

Poynings, Sir Hugh, 16.

Prideaux, Elizabeth, 81.

Prideaux arms, 83, 200.

Pyne, Elizabeth de, 40.

Quincy arms, 73.

Radcliffe, Sir Richard, 11.

Radford murdered at Poughill, 149.

Ratcliffe, Robert, 111.

Read, Charles, 28.

Reskymer, Jane, 198.

Reskymer arms, 198, 200.

Reynell, Sir Thomas, 198.

Richard III., his death at Bosworth, 124.

Rivers, Earl, made prisoner at Northampton, 91;
his execution, 94.

Roche, Elizabeth, 127.

Rodney, Alice, 41.

Rogers, John and Elizabeth, their epitaph, 81.

Rogers arms, 81.

Roos, Margaret, 148.

Sachville, John, 41.

St. Budeaux Church, 204,
rebuilt, 205.

St. Columb-Major Church, Arundell brass in, 67, 159, 178.

St. John, Eleanor, 75;
Johanna, 43.

St. Loe, Sir John, 4.

Salisbury, 87.

Saltash, 187.

Saracen's Head Inn, Salisbury, 109.

Seaton Church, 79.

Seymour, Semar, Edward, 34;
Lord Edward, 76;
Walter, 34.

Shaftesbury Abbey, 165,
arms of, 166;
Church, 166.

Shareshull, William, 79.

Sherman, William, 79.

Shore, Jane, 54.

Shottisbroke, Eleanor de, 122.

Shottisbroke arms, 123_n_.

Shurland, Margaret de, 121.

Shurland arms, 128, 130.

Shute, 40, 84.

Shute House, Old, 65.

Shute Park, 64.

Skipwith, Alice, 10.

Slapton Priory, 168.

Southleigh Church, Willoughby tomb in, 35, 85;
Drake monument in, 82.

Southleigh, architectural remains found at, 84.

Spilsby Church, Willoughby brass in, 10_n_.

Stafford, Alice, 5;
Anne, 26;
Edward, Duke of Buckingham beheaded, 111;
Elizabeth, 25;
Henry, Earl of Wilts, 74, 79, his arms, 74;
Henry, Duke of Buckingham, 89,
made Constable of England, 98,
pressed by Morton to assume the crown, 101,
failure of his conspiracy, 105,
betrayed, arrested, and executed, 107,
burial place unknown, 108,
his monument in Britford Church, 109,
his children, 111;
Humphrey, 42, 111, 148;
Sir Humphrey, Lord Stafford, his children, 147,
created a Baron and Earl of Devon, 150,
beheaded, 151,
his will, 151;
Archbp. John, his parentage, 141,
his mother's monument and epitaph, 143,
death and burial, 145,
his tomb, 145,
probably born at North-Bradley, 145,
his arms, 146,
his epitaph, 146.

Stafford family, 88, 139, 148.

Stafford arms, 23, 30, 31, 74, 143, 146.

Stafford chantry in Abbotsbury Church, 145.

Stanley, Sir William, 124.

Stokes, Adrian, 77.

Stothard, Charles Alfred, 33.

Strangeways, Thomas, 6, his children, 148.

Stretch, Cicely, 5, 42.

Stuckley, Sir Richard, 44.

Suffolk, Frances, Duchess of, her epitaph, 77.

Suthwyke, 137, 139.

Sutton, John, 67.

Sweating Sickness, the, 25_n_.

Tailboys, Walter, 6, 148.

Tailboys family, 148.

Talbot, Elizabeth, 80;
Sir Gilbert, 13;
Sir Humphrey, 13.

Throgmorton, Anne, 78.

Tisbury, 155.

Tisbury Church, 157;
Arundell tomb in, 179.

Tisbury Manor, 164.

Tiverton Castle, 150.

Toddington, Cheney mansion at, 130.

Toddington Church, monuments in, 131, 132.

Tothill, Jane, 82.

Tregassawe arms, 199.

Tregenna arms, 199.

Trelawney, Sir Harry, 204;
Sir Jonathan, 198.

Tremoderet, or Tremedart, in Duloe, 5_n_.

Tresillian, Robert, 5.

Trethurffe arms, 200.

Trevarthian arms, 200.

Trevill, Lethbridge, his epitaph, 203;
Richard, his epitaph, 203;
William, his epitaph, 203.

Trevill arms, 203.

Tyrrell, Sir James, 13.

Ufford arms, 23, 29, 30.

Upton arms, 199.

Valence arms, 73.

Valletort arms, 200.

Verney, Sir Richard, 31.

Verney family, 32.

Wake, Richard, 67.

Walrond, Edward, 197;
Henry, 197;
Humphrey, 197.

Walrond family, 79.

Wardour Castle, 169.

Ware Church, Bourchier epitaph in, 152.

Welby, Joan, 10.

Wentworth, Jane, 129.

West, Thomas, 44.

Westbury, 1, 6.

Westbury Church, Broke Chantry in, 6;
as described by Aubrey, 7.

Weston, Sir Henry, 178.

Wibbery, Johanna, 43.

Widville, Elizabeth, 66,
conspiracy against, 90;
Catherine, 74, 111;
Bp. Lionel, his tomb, 110.

Widville arms, 74.

Willoughby, Anne, 25, 26, 35;
Blanche, 26, place of burial unknown, 23;
Edward, 25, 26;
Elizabeth, 25, 26, 141;
Henry, 75, 85, tomb in Southleigh Church, 35;
John, Sir John, 6, 16;
Margaret, 178, her brass in Spilsby Church, 10_n_;
Nicholas, 35;
Robert, 17;
Sir Robert, first Lord Willoughby, 11, 169,
custodian of Earl of Warwick, 12,
created a Baron, 12,
Lord High Admiral, 14,
Commander of forces against Warbeck, 15,
Steward of the Household, 15,
his marriage, 16,
obtains the manor of Trethewye, 19,
his monument in Callington Church, 23,
his arms, 23, 30;
Robert, second Lord, 24, 67;
William, Sir William, 34, 35.

Willoughby family, 10, connection with the west, 9.

Willoughby arms, 23, 30, 33.

Wiscombe, 39, 44, 81.

Wotton, Margaret, 75.

Wyke, John, 42.

Wyvil, Robert de, 139.

Zouch, Elizabeth, 165;
Margaret, 10.

NOTE TO ILLUSTRATIONS.

The indent of the brass of Archbishop Stafford being greatly frayed
and denuded, the original outlines have been restored in the
illustration, after a close and careful examination of the stone
itself.

In the incised figure of the Archbishop's Mother, the lines are fairly
perfect, except those forming the hands and face. These have been
completed from the faint indications that remain.

R. G.

CORRIGENDA.

Pg 5. Footnote, line 1, for _Tremedart_, read _Tremodart_.
-- -- -- -- 9, -- _Lanberne_, -- _Lanherne_.
-- 11. Text, -- 19, -- _Richmond of York_, -- _the Earl of
Richmond_.
-- 37. -- -- 14, -- _interests_, -- _interest_.
-- 39. -- -- 37, -- _incidents_, -- _incident_.
-- 77. Inscription, -- 16, -- _Mil_, -- _Nil_.
-- 123. Text, -- 9, -- _Thomas_, -- _John_.
-- 143. Inscription, -- 12, -- _venerandissimi_, -- _venerabilissimi_.
-- 167. Poetry, -- 27, -- _his board_, -- _His board_.
-- 181. Text, -- 12, -- _1673 to 1678_, -- _1678 to 1683_.
-- -- Quotation, -- 29, -- _C.B._, -- _K.B._

_By the same Author,
uniform with this volume, and fully illustrated:--_

MEMORIALS OF THE WEST,

HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE,

COLLECTED ON THE BORDERLAND OF

SOMERSET, DORSET, AND DEVON.

EXETER:

JAMES G. COMMIN, 230 HIGH STREET.

LONDON: W. W. GIBBINGS, 18 BURY STREET.

M.DCCC.LXXXVIII.

*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Strife of the Roses and Days of the Tudors in the West" ***

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