[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 _semee_ 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 chene_, '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.