Chapter IV: Part 4

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 affrontee, 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 capae 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.