"She's over the muir,
An' over the border,
An' ower the blue hills far awa':
With her callant, I trow,--
On his saddle-bow,
While the mist-wreaths around them fa'."
The main facts of the following narrative, lying scattered through a
wide field of barren inquiry, the author has been at considerable pains
to collect and arrange in a continuous narrative.
Little needs be said by way of introduction, the traditions here
interwoven with the general history being mostly of a trivial nature,
and not at all interfering with the facts developed by the historians
and rhymers who have illustrated the annals of the house of Stanley.
These accounts, exaggerated and distorted as they inevitably must have
been, may yet, in the absence of more authentic testimony, afford a
pretty accurate glimpse at the real nature of those events, however they
may have been disguised by fiction and misstatement. Where tradition is
our only guide we must follow implicitly, satisfied that her taper was
lighted at the torch of Truth, though it may gleam doubtfully and
partially through the mists and errors of succeeding ages.
One source from whence we have derived some information, though well
known to the comparative few who have explored these by-paths of
history, may not be thought uninteresting to the general reader,
especially as it is connected with the most eventful portion of our
narrative.
An ancient metrical account of the Stanleys, Earls of Derby, is
contained in some uncouth rhymes, written about the year 1562, by
Thomas Stanley, Bishop of Sodor and Man,[12] and son of that Sir Edward
Stanley, who, for his valour at Flodden, was created Lord Monteagle.
There are two copies of these verses in the British Museum: one amongst
Cole's papers (vol. xxix. page 104), and the other in the Harleian MSS.
(541). Mr Cole prefaces his transcript with the following notice:--"The
History of the family of Stanley, Earls of Derby, wrote in verse about
the reign of King Henry the Eighth from a MS. now in possession of Lady
Margaret Stanley, copied for me by a person who has made many mistakes,
and sent to me by my friend Mr Allen, Rector of Tarporley, in 1758.--W.
Cole."
The MS. formerly belonged to Sir John Crewe, of Utkinton, and was given
by Mr Ardern, in 1757, to Lady Margaret Stanley.
The commencement of this metrical history is occupied in dilating upon
the pleasure resulting from such an undertaking; and although the flow
of the verse is not of remarkable smoothness, yet it hardly furnishes an
apology for Seacome's mistake, who, in his "History of the House of
Stanley," printed the first fifty lines as prose. The reverend versifier
rehearses how Stanley sprang from Audley, and then shows the manner in
which his ancestors became possessors of Stourton and Hooton. He dwells
upon the joust betwixt the Admiral of Hainault and Sir John Stanley, the
second brother of the house of Stanley of Hooton.[13] Then follows the
account, more particularly developed in our own story, of the adventures
and moving accidents which have been liberally used to adorn the
"Garland" of his descendant William, Earl of Derby. "For many
generations this was the recognised chronicle of the family, until, in
the time of James the First, a clergyman of Chester translated the
rhymes of the Bishop into English, carefully retaining the mistakes of
the original, and adding long and dull disquisitions of his own."
In the days of our valiant King Edward, while the fame of Cressy and
Poictiers was fresh and stirring in all true and loyal hearts, while the
monarchs of two powerful kingdoms were held captive in these realms,
lived a worthy knight, of whom we had a brief notice in the preceding
narrative. Sir Thomas Lathom of Lathom was a nobleman of great wealth
and possessions. According to the Calendarium Rotulorum from the Charter
Rolls in the Tower, he held lands, besides, in Knouselegh, Childewall,
Roby, and Aulusargh. In Liverpool, he was proprietor of the tower, a
structure of but little note until rebuilt and fortified by Sir John
Stanley during his government in Ireland, of which we shall have more to
say anon.
Sir Thomas married, in the year 1343, the youngest daughter of Sir Hamon
Massey of Dunham Massey, in the adjoining county of Chester. Twelve
years had since that period elapsed at the time when our story begins;
and though earnestly desiring male issue, that his name and race might
be perpetuated, yet was the sole fruit of their union hitherto a
daughter, named Isabel, then just entering on her tenth year. Her
winning and surpassing comeliness proved no solace to his
disappointment. He grew moodish and melancholy in the midst of his vast
wealth; apprehending the utter extinction of his name, and the intrusion
of a stranger on his birthright. Hopeless of other issue by his own
lady, he had recourse to unlawful means for this purpose, which procured
for him a sore chastisement in the end, as our narrative will show.
In that neighbourhood dwelt a comely maiden, the only daughter of a
substantial yeoman, of the name of Oskatell. This damsel, pleasing the
amorous fancy of Sir Thomas, fell an easy prey to his arts and
persuasions. Though concealed from her friends, their too frequent
intercourse at length became visible in the birth of a son, greatly to
the joy of the father, who meditated nothing less than to adopt this
illegitimate babe for the perpetuation of his name. Yet were there
preliminaries of no mean importance to be adjusted, as all men who have
wives may well conceive. The lady of Lathom must first be consulted; but
probabilities were strongly against the supposition that she would
tamely submit to this infringement on the rights of her child by the
interposition of a bastard. Nay, she had beforetime hinted that some
individual of the name, of moderate wealth and good breeding, might in
time be found for a suitable alliance. Still, the success of his scheme
was an object that lay deeply at his heart, and he grew more and more
anxious and perplexed. One evening, as he wandered out disconsolately in
the company of an old and trusty servant, to whom he had imparted the
secret, they came to a desert place in the park, nigh to where a pair of
eagles had from time immemorial built their nests. A project struck him
which promised fair to realise his wishes. After a multitude of schemes
subservient to the main purpose had been thrown out and abandoned, the
whole plot was finally unfolded in the following manner:--
A message was conveyed to the mother overnight, that betimes on the
following morning the babe, richly clad, should be held in readiness,
and a trusty servant would forthwith convey him to the hall. She was
peremptorily forbidden to follow; and in her great joy at this
announcement, naturally supposing that a more favourable posture of
affairs had arisen between Sir Thomas and his lady on the subject, she
cheerfully consented to this unexpected deprivation, confident that it
was to the furthering of her child's welfare and advancement. The
infant, smiling, and unconscious of the change, was taken from his
mother's lap, his swaddling clothes carefully folded together, and
committed to the care of the aged domestic.
Little was the anxious mother aware of the great peril he had to undergo
ere the goal which bounded her anticipations was won.
It was the soft twilight of a summer's morning, and the little birds had
begun to chirp their matins, and the lark to brush the dew from her
speckled breast, waiting for the first gaze of the sun. The old man
pressed the infant closer to his bosom as he drew nigh to the steep
acclivity, the solitary dwelling of the eagle. He kissed the babe; then
looking round, fearful of intruders, he laid the wicker cradle at the
foot of the precipice, and sprang into a dark thicket close by, as if to
watch for the descent of the rapacious bird.
Leaving the child, we turn to Sir Thomas, who on that morning, as was
his wont, together with his dame, awoke betimes, but he was sooner astir
and more anxious and bustling than usual. Their custom was, awaking with
the sun, to begin the day with a quiet stroll about the grounds; and on
this eventful morning their walk chanced happily towards the eagle's
nest. Being something farther and more out of their common track, it was
noticed good-humouredly by the lady, who seemed to possess a more than
ordinary portion of hilarity on the occasion. Evidently under some
exciting influence, their walk was unconsciously protracted.
In a gloomy dell, not far from the eyrie, Sir Thomas stood still, in the
attitude of listening. The lady, too, was silent and alarmed, but no
intimation of danger was visible. Her own senses, though, seemed to
gather acuteness,--a circumstance by no means rare in the vicinity of an
unusually timid and listening companion, who braces our perceptions to
the tension of his own. Soon, however, the short and feeble cry of the
babe was heard, when the knight sprang forward, feigning great
astonishment at the discovery. Evidently dropped from the talons of the
bird, it was looked upon as a special gift of Providence, a deposit
direct from the skies; to have rejected which would have been a heinous
offence, and an unlawful contravention of the designs of the Giver.
Accordingly, the infant was taken home and carefully nursed, being
baptized by the name of Oskatell.
The good lady became surprisingly enamoured of the little foundling,
believing his adoption was dictated by the will of Heaven; and to this
decision its father readily acceded. Sir Thomas, to give the greater
sanction to this supposed miracle, as well as to remove all suspicion of
fraud from the prying eyes of a censorious world, assumed for his crest
an eagle on the wing, proper, looking round as though for something she
had lost.
The child grew in years and stature, being liberally furnished in all
things according with the dignity he was destined to receive. Sir Thomas
purposed the sharing of his wealth equally between his children, a
measure which had the entire concurrence of Lady de Lathom. Though
younger by some years, Oskatell was generally considered by the world as
the future husband of Isabella; but Sir Thomas, aware of danger on this
head, early impressed them with some notion of consanguinity, and
intimated the impossibility of their union. This prohibition, settling
on a womanish fancy, might naturally have been expected to operate in a
manner the reverse of his intention. Yet we do not find from history
that Isabella ever cherished for him any other sentiments than those
arising from a sisterly regard.
Growing up to man's estate, he sought the court of King Edward, where,
though of a peaceable temper, his soul was stirred to participate in
the gallant feats incident to that scene of martial enterprise.
Isabella was now in the full summer, or, it might be, ripening into the
rich autumn of her beauty. Her father would by no means have permitted
her union save with one of the highest rank, to which her gentle blood
and princely inheritance entitled her. And though not a few hitherto, of
noble birth and endowments, had sought the honour of her alliance, yet
her heart was untouched, and in the end her suitors forbore their
homage.
All the country was now mightily roused with the news of the French
champion who, together with sundry of his companions in arms, had
challenged the English nation to match them with the like number at a
solemn joust and tourney, and of the great gallantry and personal
accomplishments of Sir John, then Captain Stanley, who had first taken
up the gauntlet in his country's behalf. The lists were prepared. The
meeting, by the king's command, was appointed to be holden at
Winchester, where the royal court was expected to witness this splendid
achievement. Oskatell, returning home, strongly importuned his sister to
accompany him to the show, it being then deemed a pleasant recreation
for many a fair and delicate maiden to view their champions hack and hew
each other without mercy. Isabella, unceasingly urged to this excursion,
at length set out for the city of Winchester, followed by a numerous
train of attendants, where, in due time, they arrived, mingling in the
bustle and dissipation incident to these festivities.
Young Stanley was the second son of Sir William Stanley, Lord of Stanley
and Stourton. As a younger branch of the house, he commenced his career,
it is said, under the command of his relative Lord Audley; but this
appears something doubtful. The battle of Poictiers, in which Captain
Stanley is said to have been, was fought in 1357; and here he must have
battled in petticoats, seeing that his father was but married 26 Edward
III., and, consequently, making due allowance for accidents and
irregularities, young Stanley, as the second son, could not then have
proceeded beyond his third year! a precocity unprecedented, we believe,
even in the annals of that fighting era. The conflicting statements we
meet with about this time, both traditionary and recorded, we cannot
attempt to reconcile. Sufficient information happily exists, however,
on which no doubt arises; and by the aid of that we proceed with our
narrative.
Stanley, according to some, having been a great traveller, had improved
himself diligently in the art of war; and, as the old chronicles
quaintly relate, "he visited most of the courts of Europe, even as far
as Constantinople; wherein he made such advances in the school of Mars,
that his superior skill in arms was generally applauded in every country
he passed through." So distinguished and widely-extended a reputation
for bravery could not fail to provoke the pride and envy of all
Christendom, whereupon the young Admiral of Hainault, one of the bravest
men of his time, together with divers gentlemen of the French court,
defied the whole kingdom to a passage of arms, the result of which
challenge has been shown.
Great was the confluence and resort to the city of Winchester, it being
noised abroad as though the king would distinguish the affray by his
presence; wondrous the stir and bustle of the soldiers, guards, and
attendants, with hordes of idlers and hangers-on, from the vast array of
knights and nobles, who came either to see or to share in the
approaching trial. The splendid banners, the heraldic pomp and barbaric
grandeur of their retinues, augmenting with every fresh arrival, made
the streets one ever-moving pageant for many days before the conflict
began. Isabella had full leisure to observe, from her own lattice, the
gay and costly garniture, and the glittering appointments of the
warriors, with the pageants and puerile diversions suited to the taste
and capacity of the ignorant crowds by which they were followed. The
king's mummers were arrived, together with many other marvels in the
shape of puppet-shows and "motions" enacting the "old vice;" Jonas and
the whale, Nineveh, the Creation, and a thousand unintelligible but
equally gratifying and instructive devices; one of which, we are told,
was "four giants, a unicorn, a camel, an ass, a dragon, a hobby-horse,
and sixteen naked boys!"
The crowds attracted by these spectacles were immense, and the city nigh
choked with the torrents that set in from every quarter.
From the windows of the houses, where lodged the knights appointed to
the encounter, hung their several coats, richly emblazoned, rousing
forth many a shout and hurrah, as one and another symbol was recognised
to be the badge of some favourite chief; but more than all, was the
young Stanley's escutcheon favoured by the fickle breath of popular
opinion, which made it needful that a double guard should be mounted
near his dwelling,--a precaution, moreover, rendered needful by the many
tumults among the different partisans and retainers, not always ending
without bloodshed. The arrival of the king, however, soon changed the
current of the wondering multitude. Edward was now in his sixty-fourth
year, and the fiftieth of his reign. Though the decline of his life did
not correspond with the splendid and noisy scenes which had illustrated
the earlier periods of his history, yet he still manifested the same
restless and undaunted spirit, ever considered as the prevailing
attribute of his character. Towards the close of his career he had the
mortification to endure the loss of his foreign possessions, having been
baffled in every attempt to defend them. He felt, too, the decay of his
authority at home, from the inconstancy and discontents of his subjects.
Though his earlier years had been spent amid the din and tumult of war
and the business of the camp, yet was he, at this period, almost wholly
given up to pleasure and the grossest of sensual indulgences. Alice
Pierce, to whom he was immoderately attached, had gained an ascendancy
over him so dangerous that the parliament remonstrated, with a courage
and firmness worthy of a more enlightened era, and in the end he was
obliged to remove her from court. Sometimes the spirit of his youth
awoke; the glory of past ages was stirred up within him; and, like the
aged war-horse neighing to the shrill note of the trumpet, he greeted
the approaching tournament with something of his wonted ardour,--though
now but an expiring flash, brightening a moment ere it was extinguished.
The day rose calm and unclouded. The thin haze of the morning had
disappeared, and an atmosphere of more than common brilliancy succeeded.
Through a great part of the preceding night the armourers had been
busily employed altering and refitting the equipments, and the dawn had
already commenced ere their labours were suspended. The lists were
carefully scrutinised, and all chance of foul play averted. The priests,
too, had blessed the armour and weapons from magic spells and "foul
negromancie."
The barriers were built of stout boards, firmly riveted together; the
royal pavilion being on the southern side, richly canopied and
embroidered with costly devices. Galleries were provided for the nobles,
not a few of whom, with their courtly dames, were expected to be
present.
The lists were sixty paces in length and forty in breadth between the
platforms on which the knights' tents were erected. The ground within
was made hard and level, the loose stones and other impediments being
carefully removed. There were two entrances, east and west, well guarded
and strongly fenced with wooden-bars about seven feet high, so that a
horse might not leap over. The tents of the warriors were fancifully
decorated, every one having his shield newly emblazoned and hung out in
front, where the pages and esquires watched, guarding vigilantly these
sacred treasures. Nothing was heard but the hoarse call of the trumpet,
the clank of mail, and the prancing of horses, pawing and eager for the
battle.
Long before the appointed hour the whole city was in motion. Isabella,
too, whose bright eyes had not closed since the first gleam had visited
her chamber, was early astir. An ugly dream, it is said, troubled her.
Though of ripe years, yet, as we have noticed before, love had not yet
aimed his malicious shafts at her bosom, nor even tightened his
bowstring as she tripped by, defying his power; so that the dream, which
in others would appear but as the overflowing of a youthful and ardent
imagination, seemed to her altogether novel and unaccountable, raising
up new faculties, and endowing her with a train of feelings heretofore
unknown. No wonder that her looks were betrayers: her whole deportment
manifested some hidden power controlling her high spirit, insomuch that
her favourite maiden was fain to abate her morning gossip; yet Isabella
was not averse to speech, though the words seemed to linger heavily on
her tongue, losing that lightness and exuberance which betokens the mind
free from care and oppression.
She had dreamed that in her own wild woods a knight accosted her: she
attempted to fly, but was withheld by some secret influence. He raised
his visor, smiling as he bent his knee in token of homage. He was a
stranger. Grasping her hand, she felt the cold hard pressure of his
gauntlet. She awoke, and sure enough there was the impression as of some
mailed hand upon her delicate fingers! While marvelling at this strange
adventure, a deep slumber again overpowered her, when a graceful
cavalier, unarmed, was at her side. He raised her hand to his lips, and
her whole soul responded to the touch. He was about to speak, when her
father suddenly appeared, with a dark and forbidding aspect. He began to
chide, and the stranger, with a glance she could not erase from her
recollection, disappeared. It was this glance which subdued her proud
spirit to its influence. Her maidenly apprehensions became aroused; she
attempted, but in vain, to drive away the intruder: the vision haunted
her deeply--too deeply for her repose! Marks of some outward impression
were yet visible on her hand, whether from causes less occult than the
moving phantasma of the mind, is a question that would resist all our
powers of solution. In a mood thus admirably fitted for the encountering
of some marvellous adventure, did she mount her little white palfrey,
all pranked out and caparisoned for the occasion.
Followed by a train of some length, with Oskatell by her side, the
daughter of the house of Lathom allured the eyes of not a few as she
passed on. Many a stately knight bent his head, and many an inquiry was
directed to the esquires and attendants as she drew near.
The scene of this renowned combat was a spacious plain below the city,
on the opposite side of the river Itchen. The chalky cliffs, which
obtained for it the name of Caer Gwint, or the White City, were studded
with gay and anxious multitudes, whose hopes and fears have long been
swept off by the waves of passing generations.
Winchester being one of the fixed markets or staples for wool appointed
by King Edward, the city had risen in power and affluence above its
neighbours. Yet the plague, by which it was almost depopulated some
years before, had considerably abated its magnificence. But the favour
of royalty still clung to it, and Arthur's "Round Table" attested its
early claims to this distinguishing character--a monarch's residence.
The castle, where the Round Table is still shown, was then a building of
great strength, and, enlivened by the king's presence, displayed many a
staff and pennon from its stately battlements.
Isabella passed by the fortress just as the trumpets announced the near
approach of the king down the covered way. The chains of the drawbridge
were lowered, and presently issued forth the armed retinue of the
monarch. Isabella and her train were obliged to remain awhile as idle
spectators.
The king, though old and infirm, yet retained his lofty and commanding
appearance. His charger was armed with the _chanfrons_ and gamboised
housings, having thereon the royal arms, and proudly did the conscious
beast paw and champ, as if rejoicing under his burden.
Edward was dressed in a glittering surcoat of crimson silk, worked with
lions and _fleurs-de-lis._ His helmet was cylindrical, surmounted by a
lion as its crest. Round the rim was a coronet of gold, worked with
_fleurs-de-lis_ and oak leaves. A gorget and tippet covering the
shoulders was fastened beneath the chin, giving the head a stiff but
imposing air of command. He carried a short truncheon, which he wielded
with great dexterity; yet his armour, though light and of the finest
temper, seemed more cumbersome to him now than in former days.
The royal standard of England, thus described, was borne before him:--It
was from eight to nine yards in length, the ground blue and red,
containing, in the first division, the lion of England imperially
crowned. In chief, a coronet of _crosses pater_ and _fleurs-de-lis,_
between two clouds irradiated. In base, a cloud between two coronets. In
the next division the charges were, in chief a coronet, in base an
irradiated cloud. In the third, the dexter chief and sinister base was
likewise an irradiated cloud; the sinister and dexter chief a coronet,
as before. Motto, "Dieu et mon droyt." The whole of this procession was
one vast masquerade of pomp, little betokening the frailty and folly
which it enveloped. Though to all outward show fair and glistening, yet
was there a heavy gloom brooding over the nation. Prince Edward, the
flower of chivalry, usually called the Black Prince, from the colour of
his armour, lay then grievously sick, and the whole hope and welfare of
the land seemed to hang on his recovery. The known ambition of John of
Gaunt was a main source of alarm and anxiety. "Edward had, however,"
says the historian, "declared his grandson heir and successor to the
crown, and thereby cut off all the hopes of the Duke of Lancaster, if he
ever had the temerity to entertain any."
Not forgetting his former homage to the sex, the king's eye lingered on
the form of Isabella, but she drew back, daunted by the ardour of his
gaze. Oskatell saw the impression she had made, in nowise displeased,
hoping some ray of royal favour would be reflected to him from the beam
that already dawned on his companion.
We now pass on to the field, where everything was in readiness for the
combat. The knights had heard mass and made confession, these being the
requisite preparatives to the noble deeds they had that day vowed to
perform. The heralds had made the usual proclamation against the use of
magic, unlawful charms, and other like devices of the devil, when a loud
flourish of trumpets announced the approach of Stanley, who first
entered the lists mounted on a grey charger furnished with the chevron,
or war-saddle, then of great use in withstanding the terrific shock of
the assailant, being high up in front, and furnished at the back like an
arm-chair. He was equipped in a full suit of Italian armour, displaying
a steel cuirass of exquisite workmanship, deemed at that time a novel
but elegant style of defence, and destined soon to supersede the
purpoint or gamboised work called mail. If well tempered, it was found
to resist the stroke of the lance without being either pierced or bent,
nor was it liable to be pushed through into the body, as was sometimes
the case with the "_mailles_" when the wambas or hoketon was wanting
underneath. His shield was thus marshalled: argent; on a bend azure,
three stags' heads cabossed. In the sinister chief, a crescent denoted
his filiation; underneath was the motto "Augmenter." The shield itself
or pavise was large, made of wood covered with skin, and surrounded with
a broad rim of iron.
He looked gracefully round, first lowering his lance in front of the
king's pavilion, and afterwards to the fair dames who crowded the
galleries on each side. Whether from accident or design his eyes rested
on Isabella with a strong expression of earnestness rather than
curiosity. Doubtless, the noble representatives of the house of Lathom
excited no slight interest among the spectators, and the young hero
might have formed some yet undeveloped anticipations on this head.
She blushed deeply at this public and unexpected notice. The
recollection of her dream made the full tide of feeling set in at once
in this direction, much to her consternation and dismay; but when,
happening to turn hastily round, a silken bandage, loosened by the
sudden movement from some part of her dress, was carried off by the wind
and deposited within the lists, she was greatly embarrassed; and her
confusion was not a little increased as the young gallant with great
dexterity transferred it to the point of his lance. At this choice of
his "lady love," a loud shout arose from the multitude; and Isabella,
now the object of universal regard, would have retired, but that the
density of the crowd, and the inconvenient structure of the building,
rendered it impossible.
Another flourish of trumpets announced the approach of the young Admiral
of Hainault. His armour was blue and white, beautifully wrought and
inlaid with silver. His steed was black, having the suit and furniture
of the war-horse complete. The _crouptière_ and _estival_, together with
the _chanfron_, were of the most costly description. A plume of white
feathers decorated his casque, extending his athletic form into almost
gigantic proportions.
The needful ceremonies were gone through; a deep and almost breathless
silence succeeded, like the stillness that precedes the first swing of
the storm. The trumpets sounded; the sharp click of the lances was heard
falling into the rest; and the first rush was over. The noise of the
shock was like the burst of the tempest on the forest boughs. Through
the dust, the horses were seen to recoil upon their haunches; but as it
blew heavily away, the warriors had regained their upright position,
having sustained no injury, save by the shivering of their lances with
the stroke. A loud shout of applause ensued; and the esquires being at
hand with fresh weapons, each knight was too eager for the fray to lose
a moment in requesting the usual signal. Again their coursers' feet
seemed to spurn the earth. At this onset the French knight bent back in
his saddle, whether from subtlety or accident was not known, but there
was a loud clamour; and the Frenchman, recovering himself, spurred on
his steed with great vigour, perhaps hoping to take his adversary at
unawares; but the latter, darting aside with agility, the other's lance
ran full against the boards, and in deep vexation he came back to the
charge.
Trembling with choler, he hardly restrained himself until the prescribed
signal; then, as if he would make an end of his opponent, he aimed his
weapon with a direct thrust towards the heart; but Stanley, confident in
his own might, was fully prepared for the blow, as the event
sufficiently proved; for the French knight was seen to reel from his
saddle, the point of his enemy's lance being driven completely through
his armour. He rolled backwards on the ground, and so vigorous had been
the attack, that his horse's back was broken, and they lay together,
groaning piteously, besmeared with blood and dust, to the sore dismay of
his companions. Stanley suddenly alighted, and helped the pages to undo
his armour; but ere his beaver could be unclasped he had fainted by loss
of blood, and being borne off the field, he shortly afterwards expired.
The king was mightily pleased with this great prowess of the victor,
insomuch that he knighted him on the spot, and, according to the old
ballad, gave him goodly manors--
"For his hire,
Wing, Tring, and Iving, in Buckinghamshire."
He had so won, likewise, on the hitherto impenetrable disposition of
Isabella, that when he came to render his homage at her feet, she
trembled and could scarcely give the customary reply.
Raising his visor, and uncovering his helmet from the grand guard--a
plate protecting the left side of the face, shoulder, and breast--he
made a lowly obeisance at the gate of his mistress's pavilion, at the
same time presenting the stolen favour he had now so nobly won. With a
tremulous hand she bound it round his arm.
"Nay, thy chaplet, lady," shouted a score of tongues from the
inquisitive spectators. Isabella untied a rich chaplet of goldsmith's
work, ornamented with rose-garlands, from her hair, and threw it over
his helmet. Still armed with the gauntlets, which, either through hurry
or inadvertence, he had neglected to throw aside, as was the general
courtesy for the occasion, the knight seized her hand, and with a grasp
gentle for any other occasion, pressed it to his lips. The lady uttered
a subdued shriek, whether from pain or surprise, it boots not now to
inquire; mayhap, it was the remembrance of the mailed hand she had felt
in her dream, and to which her fingers, yet tingling with the pressure,
bore a sufficient testimony. Sir John bent lowlier than before, with one
hand on his breast, in token of contrition. A thousand strange fancies,
shapeless and undefined, rushed by, as the maiden looked on the warrior.
It was the very crisis of her dream; her heart seemed as though it would
have leapt the walls of its tenement,--and she was fain to hide her face
under the folds of her mantle.
"Now, on my halidome," said the king, "there be two doves whose cooing
would be the better for a little honest speech. Poor hearts! it were a
pity their tongues had bewrayed their desire. Fitz-Walter, summon them
hither."
The blushing Isabella was conducted to the royal presence, where the
king was graciously pleased to impress a salute on her rich and glowing
cheek--no mean honour from so gracious and gallant a monarch, who,
though old, was yet accounted a mighty adept in the discernment of
female beauty, he never being known to suffer contact of the royal lip
with aught but the fairest and most comely of the sex.
"Sir John, I commend thee to thy mistress. A dainty choice. She is 'The
Queen of Beauty' for the day, and to-night we command your presence at
the banquet."
"My gracious liege," said Isabella, pointing to Oskatell, "I have a
brother; unto his care it is but meet that I entrust myself; and he"----
"His person and endowments," interrupted the king, "are not unknown to
us. I do honour thee by ennobling him; for though our ladies' brightness
be all too dazzling to receive a glory from us, yet peradventure for
their sakes our courtesy is vouchsafed. Rise, Sir Oskatell de Lathom."
Again a flourish of trumpets proclaimed the king's favour, who with many
more gracious speeches won the affection of all who heard him that day.
Several other jousts and "gentle passages" were held, the success of
which falling principally with the English combatants, the boasting
pride of France was again humbled before the king, who seemed to renew
his former victories at this memorable "_Tourney of Winchester_."
But Isabella had bartered years of repose for this brief season of
intoxicating splendour. The barbed arrow was in her heart, and the more
she struggled, the more irreclaimable it grew. Doubtless that unlucky
dream had rendered her more susceptible to the wound.
Dreams have this operation; and whether good or evil, they leave an
impression that no simple act of the will can efface. It seems to be the
work of a power superior to our own, for "the less begetteth not the
greater;" how, then, can the mind originate a train of conceptions, or
rather creations, superior to itself--above its own power to control?
But Isabella was too much engrossed by her feelings to attempt their
solution. She lay restless on her couch, but there was no escape. An
unquenchable flame was kindled in her soul, that not all the cool
appliances of reason could subdue. Tomorrow she must depart, and that
gay pageant vanish as a dream; and yet not like her own dream, for that
was abiding and indelible. To-morrow the brave knight must withdraw, and
the "Queen of Beauty," homaged for a day, give place to another whose
reign should be as brief and as unenduring. In this distempered mood,
with a heart all moved to sadness, did the Lady Isabel pass the first
hours of the following night.
Suddenly the sharp twang of a citerne was heard in the street below her
window,--nothing new in these piping times of love and minstrelsy; but
so sensitive was the ear now become to exterior impressions, that she
started, as though expecting a salutation from the midnight rambler. Her
anticipations were in some measure realised, the minstrel pausing
beneath her lattice. A wooden balcony projected from it, concealing the
musician. Isabella threw a light mantle around her, and rousing one of
her maidens, she opened the window. The rich melody came upon her senses
through the balmy odour of myrtle boughs and leaves of honeysuckle. The
chords were touched with a skilful hand, and the prelude, a wild and
extempore commentary on the ballad, was succeeded by the following
ditty:--
"My ladye love, my ladye love,
The moon through the lift is breaking;
The sky is bright, and through the night
The queen of love is waking.
Yon little star that twinkleth so,
Fluttering her bright eyes to and fro,
How doth she chide,
That thou shouldest hide,
All joyance thus forsaking.
My ladye love, my ladye love,
The moon through the lift is breaking;
The sky is bright, and through the night
The queen of love is waking."
The singer withdrew; and Isabella was convinced, or her eyes were
befooled by her fancy, that, as he emerged from his concealment, his
form could be none other than the one her imagination was too familiar
with to mistake. He, too, had caught a glance of the listeners, for
presently a folded paper was thrown over the balusters, and the minstrel
departed. The first light that came through the long low casements
revealed all that her hopes anticipated. The billet was from Sir John
Stanley, whose regrets, mingled with vows and protestations of love,
were to this purport, that he must needs be away before daybreak, on
urgent business from the king. He sent a sigh and a love-token,
commending himself to her best thoughts, until he should gain his
acquittance so far as to visit Lathom.
Passing over the departure, the bustle, and the weariness of a twelve
days' journey, let us behold the maiden once more in her pretty bower at
Lathom. How changed! The whole assumed a fresh aspect, thus viewed from
a different state of the mind. Her favourite spaniel licked her hand,
but she did not notice his caresses; all about her was as if the wand of
the enchanter had been there, changing its image, each object calling
forth a train of sensations heretofore unknown. Even the hangings and
figured draperies wore a grim and perturbed expression; and Jephtha's
daughter and the Queen of Sheba looked more dismal and profuse than ever
from the dusky arras.
She strayed out, as beforetime, into the woods; but their gloom was more
intense, and the very birds seemed to grow sad with her melancholy
musings. Their song, that used to be so sprightly, was now subdued and
mournful, and all their gay and bubbling hilarity was gone. If she
wandered forth towards evening, the owl hooted in her path, and the
raven croaked above her. She heard not the light matin of the lark.
Fancy, stimulated alone by gloomy impressions, laid hold on them only,
failing to recognise aught but its own image.
Sir Oskatell and her father had often taken counsel together since his
return. Shortly afterwards, Isabella received a summons to attend Sir
Thomas in private. What was the precise nature of that interview does
not appear, save that the lady withdrew to her chamber, and the brow of
Sir Thomas was for a long space moody and disturbed. Sir John Stanley,
though of gentle descent, was not endowed with an adequate inheritance,
at least for the heiress of Lathom, whose extensive possessions, though
shared by Oskatell, were deemed by Sir Thomas of sufficient magnitude to
command a connection of higher rank and importance. As a younger brother
he could have slight pretensions to patrimony, and save the manors, then
but a slender endowment, just granted by King Edward, his profession as
a soldier supplied his chief revenue. His exclusive notice of the Lady
Isabella at the tournament was quickly conveyed to the ear of Sir
Thomas; and, it was said, the latter had vowed that no portion of
wealth should descend to his daughter if wedded to Sir John, but that
the whole should be settled on Sir Oskatell. "The course of true love
never did run smooth." That Sir John Stanley had a watchful eye at the
time to the fortune as well as to the person of Isabella, is by some
rather freely hinted. This, however, turns out to be an unfounded
calumny, as the events hereafter unfolded will abundantly demonstrate.
Sir John, after vainly endeavouring to avert this cruel purpose, and to
win the old man's favour, entered into the service of the king. He hoped
that some lucky adventure would enable him to appear with more certainty
of success the next time he played the suitor at Lathom.
Isabella, though sorely importuned to the contrary, remained true to her
first and only attachment; and Sir Oskatell was likely, in the end, to
gather to himself the whole of these vast possessions. A disposition to
this effect she had for some time suspected. His conduct, too, was less
kindly of late, and he took upon himself an authority more direct and
unconditional. Indeed, it seemed but too evident that Sir Oskatell was
looked upon as the ultimate possessor. The maiden pined sorely at her
lot, and lack of perpetuity in the inheritance. But woman's wits have
compassed a sea of impossibilities, and will ever continue irresistible
until their beautiful forms shall no longer irradiate these dull
mortalities with their presence.
One day an aged minstrel craved admission. Sir Thomas had just retired
from the banquet. Isabella and the lady of Lathom were at their usual
employment in their private chamber, plying the needle in "Antres vast,"
and wildernesses of embroidery, along with the maids. The request was
granted; soon after which an old man, bending apparently under an
accumulation of years and infirmities, entered the apartment. There was
a keen scrutinising restlessness of the eye, stealing through the
silvery locks about his brow, that but ill accorded with his apparent
decrepitude.
After a very profound obeisance, which the lady-mother scarcely
recognised, he addressed himself to his vocation. A mighty indifferent
prelude succeeded the arrangement of the strings, then a sort of jig,
accented by the toe and head of the performer. Afterwards he broke into
a wild and singular extempore, which gradually shaped itself into
measure and rhythm, at times beautifully varied, and accompanied by the
voice. We shall attempt a more modern and intelligible version of the
sentiments he expressed:--
Song.
1.
"Rich round thy brow are the clusters bright,
And thy tresses are like the plume--
The plume of the raven, glossy with light,
Or the ray on the spirit's deep gloom.
2.
"As I gaze, the dim echoes of years that are past
Bring their joys to my bosom in vain;
For the chords, which their spell once o'er memory cast,
Ne'er shall waken to gladness again!"
"I hold these minstrels now no better than the croaking of your carrion
crow," said the elder lady: "these are not like the songs we used to
hear in hall and bower at Dunham Massey. Then "--the old lady forgetting
that her own ears had played her false, and her relish for these
dainties had departed--"Then," raising her voice and gazing round, as
past scenes recurred to her fancy, "how my young heart would leap at the
sound of their ditties! and how I long to hear again _'Sir Armoric'_ and
the '_Golden-Legend_,' and all about the lady with the swine's snout and
the silver trough!"
But Isabella heard not her mother's reminiscences. The minstrel
engrossed her attention, absorbing her whole thoughts, it might seem,
with the display of his cunning. Her cheek was flushed, and her lip
trembled. Some mysterious faculty there was either in the song or the
performer.
Again he poured forth a strain more touching, and of ravishing
sweetness:--
Song.
1.
"Smile on, my love; that sunny smile
Is light and life and joy to thee;
But, oh, its glance of witchery the while,
Is maddening, hopeless misery to me.
2.
"Another bosom thou mayest bless,
Whose chords shall wake with ecstasy;
On mine, each thrilling thought thy looks impress
Wakes but the pang of hopeless destiny.
3.
"Smile on, my love; that sunny smile
Is light and life and joy to thee;
But, oh, its glance of witchery the while,
Is hopeless, maddening misery to me."
These were burning thoughts from the bosom of age; and had not the old
lady's perceptions been somewhat obtuse, she might have guessed the
minstrel's purpose. His despair was not so utterly hopeless and without
remedy as the purport of his song seemed to forebode--for the morning
light saw the bower of Isabella vacant, and her bed undisturbed. She was
then far over the blue hills into Staffordshire, where another sun saw
her the wife of Sir John Stanley; immediately after which they departed
into Ireland.
Sir Thomas threw the reins on the neck of his choler, and, as tradition
reports, did then disinherit her for ever in favour of Sir Oskatell. How
far the latter might be privy to this resolve, or whether Sir Thomas,
goaded on aforetime to the aggrandisement of his name, seized the
present opportunity only as it served his purpose, both history and
tradition leave us without the means of deciding. There does, however,
seem reason to suspect some unfair solicitations practised on Sir
Thomas, which subsequent occurrences strongly corroborate; but
particularly the fact, that on his deathbed he solemnly revoked this
injustice, appointing Sir John Stanley his lawful heir, disinheriting
Sir Oskatell, save a slight provision hereafter named, and declaring his
illegitimacy. We would not lightly throw out an accusation of this
nature; but surely an act of retribution so unsparingly administered
would not have been put in force, had not past circumstances in some
measure rendered it just.
Let us now resume our narrative from the date of the tournament; soon
after which King Edward died, and Sir John Stanley, in the first year of
his successor, Richard II., was honoured by him with a commission to
Ireland, for the purpose of assisting in the total reduction of that
unfortunate kingdom. By his great prudence and success he brought under
submission the great rebel chiefs, to wit, O'Neal, King of Ulster;
Rotherick O'Connor, King of Connaught; O'Caral, King of Uriel; O'Rurick,
King of Meath; Arthur M'Kier, King of Leinster; and O'Brien, King of
Thomond. In the year 1379, Richard coming in person to Ireland, these
chieftains did homage to him as their sovereign prince. For his great
and eminent services on this occasion Sir John had granted to him, by
patent for life, the manor and lands of Black Castle in that country.
Ten years did Sir John sojourn, by the king's order, in this unquiet
and troublesome appendage to the English crown. And it may be conceived
that if true love had any hold on his affections, they were oft
communing with Isabella, forsaken, as she then thought, by him whom she
had once too surely trusted. In the tumult of war, and in the
administration of his high office, no doubt her gentle form would visit
his spirit, and, like the star of future promise, guide him on to his
achievements.
About the year 1390, when the return of Henry Duke of Lancaster from his
banishment, without leave of the king, had caused a sore dismay
throughout the land, Richard, harassed with the apprehension of danger,
appointed Sir John Stanley Lord Justice of Ireland for six years. He was
now able, in some measure, to confer a sufficient dignity on his
beloved, though not yet equal, in point of wealth, to the wishes of Sir
Thomas. But feeling desirous to know the state of her disposition
towards him, he set out in disguise for Lathom, where, as we have before
stated, he so far prevailed that she became Lady Stanley in spite of all
the opposition she had endured. Aware of the determination of her
father, he deemed her love a sufficient recompense, thus fully refuting
the insinuations that her dower had more charm for him than her person.
Returning to Ireland with his lady, they lived there happily for some
years.
When Henry of Lancaster was crowned by the title of Henry the Fourth,
Sir John being still Lord Justice of Ireland, and holding the government
there in favour of the deposed king, the new monarch, well knowing the
knight's power, together with his skill and experience, as well in the
senate as in the field, found means to attach him to the reigning
interest, and, as a mark of signal favour, granted to him and his heirs
for ever, by letters patent, many lands there named, lying in the
westerly part of the county of Chester. Soon afterwards occurred that
memorable rebellion, when the Welsh blood, boiling to a ferment by the
hot appliances of one Owen Glendower, an esquire of Wales, and in his
youth a resident at the Inns of Court in London, kindled the flames of
intestine war. After he had conspired with the Percies and their
adherents, together with a large body of the Scotch, these malcontents
threatened to overthrow the now tottering dominion of King Henry.
The most prompt measures were, however, taken to meet this
exigency,--and Sir John Stanley was suddenly called out of Ireland; Sir
William Stanley, then Lord of Stanley and Stourton, being appointed his
deputy. Sir John soon applied himself in such earnest to the service of
the king, his master, that a large and powerful army, headed by Henry
himself, together with "Prince Harry," his son, marched against the
rebels. Near to Shrewsbury the latter were overthrown; Sir John, by his
great bravery and address, mainly contributing to the success of the
engagement. His presence was now become of essential service to the
king, who in consequence appointed his second son, the Duke of
Clarence--who claimed the title of Earl of Ulster in right of his
wife--Lord Lieutenant of Ireland in his stead, the new governor landing
at Carlingford on the 2d August 1405.
Sir John obtained, as a favour granted but to few, and those of the
highest rank, licence from the king to fortify a spacious house he was
then building at Liverpool, the site whereof was given by Sir Thomas
Lathom, who, we may now suppose, had in some measure swerved from his
most unjust purpose, possibly on apprehending the great honours and
influence that Sir John had already acquired without his aid or
furtherance. This plot of land, it was said, contained 650 square yards,
which he held together with several burgage houses and lands in that
town.
He had full licence to build a castle or house of strength, embattled
and machicolated, with _tenellare_, or loop-holes in the walls, and
other warlike devices, which no subject could undertake without special
leave from the king.
The Isle of Man was at this time, by Northumberland's rebellion, forfeit
to the crown. Sir John the same year obtained a grant of it for life,
and in the year following a re-grant to himself and his heirs for ever,
with the style and title of "King of Man."
It were needless to enumerate all the honours and distinctions heaped in
such unwonted profusion upon our illustrious hero. It has rarely
happened that so rapid a career has met with no reverse, for the fickle
goddess mostly exalts her votaries only to make their downfall the more
terrible.
Henry dying in 1413, was succeeded by his son Henry V., with whom Sir
John was held in equal esteem, being again appointed to the government
of Ireland; but, landing in Dublin, his health was now visibly on the
wane. Four months afterwards he died at Ardee, to the great grief of
his family, and the irreparable loss of the nation. He was a rare
instance wherein a courtier, through four successive reigns, carried
himself unimpeached, and unsullied by the political vices which were
then too general to excite reproach. He was truly a knight "_sans peur
et sans reproche_."
He left two sons, John and Thomas, and one daughter, whose fortunes, at
this time, we shall not attempt to follow.
Lady Stanley, his widow, returned to Liverpool with her children, and
lived there until her death, in the house built by her husband.
Now did the beam of Sir Oskatell's favour, like an April day, suddenly
change its gaudy and suspicious brightness. Sir Thomas, waning in years
and ready to depart, began to consider his former misdoings. His
daughter and her offspring were, by the laws of nature, justly entitled
to his possessions, which he, reflecting on the great impiety and
injustice of withholding, bequeathed, with some exceptions, to Lady
Stanley and her heirs, revealing at the same time the fraud which he had
practised, and extinguishing for ever the hopes and expectations of Sir
Oskatell. Yet was he not left entirely destitute: to him and to his
descendants were reserved, by due process of law, the manors of Irlam
and Urmston, near Manchester, with divers other valuable inheritances.
At the same time was given to him the signet of his arms, with the crest
assumed for his sake, _an eagle regardant, proper_. It was only
subsequent to the supplanting of Sir Oskatell that his rivals took the
present crest, "_The Eagle and Child_" where the eagle is represented as
having secured his prey, in token of their triumph over the foundling,
whom he is preparing to devour. This crest, with the motto "SANS
CHANGER," the descendants of Sir John Stanley, the present Earls of
Derby, continue to hold: the foregoing narrative showing faithfully the
origin of that singular device.