The quiet Autumn hours,--so cool and calm,
When the bright sun hath stayed his blazing wheels,
And o'er the earth there seems to steal a balm
Of peace full-satisfied, as the heart feels
When after some strong fight, and conquest won
That brings no grief,--we rest and count the spoil,
Rich with the crowned content of something done,
Forgetful of the conflict and the toil.
How blessed comes each change;--with sobering tints
The fading flowers have to rich fruitage turned,
The golden leaves lit with faint sunny glints,
Flame mid the dews like patient martyrs burned,--
The robin pipes his lay,--the bee speeds home,--
And o'er the soul a sweet repose doth come.
Shute also became the property of Secretary Petre, "from whom," says
the Antiquary, "my father had the howse and park, and dwelled theire
duringe his lief, and left it unto mee, and my eldest son John Pole
holdeth it from mee"; it is now held by his descendant, the ninth
baronet.
Once more we are back in Southleigh churchyard in the Wiscombe valley,
from which our footsteps originally set out to thread the mazes of our
imperfectly told but eventful history. We look into the little church
for traces of Bonville, but nothing is visible, reflecting their
memory in this their earliest home. A few years since in clearing the
foundations of an old picturesque cottage, not far from the church,
some fragments of sculpture, of Perpendicular character, were found,
being part of a cornice of rich vine-tracery, together with scrolls,
and winged angels holding shields, canopies of niches, panelled
shafting, the emblem of St. Luke, &c.,--the colours and gilding still
fresh on them. These were apparently portions of the antient reredos,
and from their rich character, were probably relics of the taste and
munificence of the Bonvilles; or of their last descendant "that devout
woman Cecilia, Marchioness of Dorset, Lady de Bonville, and
Haryngton," the patron of numerous benefices in Devon, and other
counties; and generous benefactor toward the ornamentation, repair, or
additions to, the various parish churches in which her extensive
possessions were situate. Pleasing remembrances, left to attest her
memory, and which still stand out in grateful relief, long after the
turbulent scenes of treachery and bloodshed amid which they found
their existence, have passed away; for is it not written,--
"The meek shall inherit the land;
And shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace."
[Illustration: EXTERIOR OF THE DORSET CHAPEL, OTTERY ST. MARY]
One further circumstance, referable only to the realms of conjecture,
but unique in its way, detains us a minute, as we turn to leave the
village graveyard. Just outside the chancel is a high-tomb,
commemorating the burial of _Henry Willoughby, 28 Sept., 1616_.[17] At
its end is the grand escutcheon of Willoughby de Eresby, with
_crescent for difference_. It has not yet been explained who he was,
or how he found sepulchre here. We remember that Anne, younger
daughter of Thomas Grey, second Marquis of Dorset, and so
grand-daughter to Cicely Bonville, married Henry Willoughby, of
Wollaton, Nottinghamshire, which would not be far from the home of the
Willoughbies de Eresby in Lincolnshire. Is this the memorial of her
husband? The date would accord with the presumption.
[17] See page 35.
Here we conclude this desultory outline of the history of Bonville,
and as our feet make homeward, many thoughts haunt us over the
marvels--for they are nothing less--that fill its phases of human
relation. In the middle of its recital, which concluded with the
untimely death of Lord Bonville, we said it was a relief to turn aside
from the atrocities mingled with the strife of the Roses. In its
continuation, for a while, under the more settled rule of Tudor, there
were comparatively fewer horrors to chronicle, but the union of the
royal houses, emblemed by the rival flowers, was cemented with blood,
its ghastly trail followed into the spirit of the new dynasty, and
gathering strength as the three generations of Grey passed, culminated
at length in a tragedy for size and importance unsurpassed in the
annals of our national history. Its last representative, although a
subject only, had wedded the grand-daughter of one, and cousin of
another of the reigning Kings, and who had herself also been a Queen
in her own right. Here the topmost pinnacle of alliance with the
highest worldly station had been reached, but only to experience the
fate of that often-witnessed terrific downfall, which follows the
promptings engendered by the unsatisfied ambition of attaining to such
dangerous altitude. Within three short years, three headless dukes--of
foremost station in their native land, and allied to each other by
ties of relationship--passed from the scaffold on Tower Hill to
obscure and unmarked graves in the little Chapel of that fortress; and
with them went also, after experiencing the same terrible ordeal,
following her youthful husband, a young and guileless victim, almost
the sole representative of the new stock, into which the last tender
branch of the extinct house of Bonville had been engraffed.
Enough, sayest thou, friend of mine, of this harrowing
relation;--quite so,--our story is ended. Life was indeed intended for
happier results than these, and how much better the simple delights,
enjoyments and pleasures of unenvied station, that in their
possession are ever
"Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne;"
and unsmote by the glamour of the basilisk Ambition, whose fascination
lives on the ever unsatisfied desire for fame or station, until often,
when too late and past recall, the illusion vanishes as the victim
disappears over the verge of the unseen, treacherous precipice of
irretrievable ruin.
The shadows grow deeper between the hedgerows as we saunter homeward,
a dewy mist is settling down the valley, and a cheery glint salutes us
here and there from the cottage windows as we pass along. Listen! What
melody do we hear, with greeting so soft and soothing? Aye, artless as
it is, that, which in this world, for sweetness knows no rival, even