Part 2

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.

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.