of conducting the Princess Matilda into Germany, on the eve of her
marriage with Henry, Duke of Saxony; and five years later was selected
by the king as one of his “own trustees to the treaty of marriage
between his son Prince John, and the daughter of Hubert, Count of
Savoy.” Shortly afterwards he commanded the royal forces at Fornham in
Suffolk, and gained a complete victory over the rebellious sons of King
Henry--in whose unnatural cause the disaffected at home had been joined
by a numerous body of foreigners--and took prisoners the Earl of
Leicester, with his Countess and all his retinue of knights. Albini was
a great benefactor of the church; he built “the abbey of Buckenham;
endowed various prebends in Winchester; founded the priory of Pynham,
near Arundel; the chapel of St. Thomas at Wymundham,” and died at
Waverley in Surrey.
To Albini’s son and grandson we have already adverted, but conclude with
a brief incident in the life of William, the third earl of his family.
When the banner of the cross was waving under the walls of Damietta, and
the chivalry of Christendom flew to the rescue, the gallant Albini was
too keenly alive to the cause to resist the summons. In that severe
[Illustration]
struggle, he hoped to acquire those laurels which would leave all other
trophies in the shade; and with the flower of our English chivalry
embarked for the Holy Land, and served at the siege of that fortress.
Two years he remained a staunch supporter of the cross--a soldier whom
no dangers could dismay, no difficulties intimidate; and long after his
companions had returned to the white cliffs of Albion, the lion-standard
of Albini shone in the van of the Christian army. On his way home,
however, he had only strength to reach an obscure town in the
neighbourhood of Civita Vecchia, near Rome, where he was taken ill and
expired. His eldest son, the fourth earl, died without issue; and the
short life of his successor, Hugh de Albini, appears to have passed
without any remarkable event or incident, save latterly in active
warfare in France, where, at the battle of Taillebourg, in Guienne, he
displayed, though ineffectually, the hereditary valour of his family.
The first of the Fitzalans who held the title and estates of Arundel was
appointed one of the Lord Marchers, or Wardens of the Welsh Border; and
found to his cost that the Ancient Britons did not submit to the daily
encroachment made upon their rights and hereditary privileges, without
having frequent and formidable recourse to arms. He maintained a high
station at court, was admitted to the royal confidence, and had the
“command of the Castle of Rochester when the approach of the King’s
forces compelled the disaffected Barons to raise the siege.” At the
battle of Lewes he distinguished himself in the royal cause; but at the
close of that disastrous field--along with the two princes, Edward and
Henry--fell into the “hands of the victorious Barons.”
Of the battle of Lewes, we select the following graphic picture from
Grafton:--“Upon Wednesday the 23rd of May, early in the morning, both
the hostes met; where, after the Londoners had given the first assault,
they were beaten back, so that they began to drawe from the sharpe shot
and strokes, to the discomfort of the Barons’ hoste. But the Barons
encouraged and comforted their men in such wise, that not all onely, the
freshe and lustye knights fought eagerly, but also such as before were
discomfited, gathered a newe courage unto them, and fought without
feare, in so much that the King’s vaward lost their places. Then was the
field covered with dead bodyes, and gasping and groning was heard on
every syde; for eyther of them was desyrous to bring others out of lyfe.
And the father spared not the sonne, neyther yet the sonne spared the
father! Alliaunce at that time was bound to defiaunce, and Christian
bloud that day was shed without pittie. Lastly the victory fell to the
Barons; so that there was taken the King, and the King of Romaynes, Sir
Edward the King’s sonne, with many other noblemen,” among whom was
Fitzalan, Earl of Arundel, “to the number of fifteen barons and
banerets; and of the common people, that were slain, about twenty
thousand, as saith Fabian.”
This was Fitzalan’s last appearance in the field; and, as a security for
his good behaviour, he was required “to surrender the Castle of Arundel
or deliver his son as a hostage,” into the hands of the Earl of
Leicester. “For their safe keeping, the prisoners were sente unto
dyverse castellis and prysons, except the King, his brother the King of
Almayne, and Sir Edwarde his sonne; the which the barons helde with them
vntill they came to London.”
RICHARD the third earl takes an eminent station in the family history.
He first travelled in France and Italy, in compliance with the rules of
his order[49]; then served in Wales, performed several exploits against
Madoc; became distinguished among the chivalry of his day; held a
command in the expedition organised for the subjugation of Scotland;
fought at Falkirk; and subsequently took part at the siege of
Caerlaverock Castle, where in the language of the minstrel, “who
witnessed the fray,” he is complimented as--
“Richard le Conte de Aroundel,
Beau chivalier, et bien aimé,
I vi je richement armé;
En rouge au lyon rampart de or--[50]”
and in various capacities appears to have done the state much acceptable
service.
[Sidenote: 1306. {]
During the life of EDMUND, the fourth Earl, the affairs of Scotland
assumed a threatening aspect; and the King, exasperated by the murder of
Comyn, resolved to march an army across the frontier. Great preparations
were made to render the expedition, in all respects, worthy of the grand
object in view. The royal armies were ordered from their cantonments,
and hastened into the field under the command of Aymer de Valence, Earl
of Pembroke.
In preparation for the expedition, “proclamation was made, that a grand
national fete would solemnise the movement; that the Prince of Wales
[Illustration]
would be knighted on the Feast of Pentecost; and all the young nobility
of the kingdom were summoned to appear at Westminster to receive that
honour along with him. On the eve of the appointed day (the 22nd of
May) 270 noble youths, with their pages and retinues, assembled in the
Gardens of the Temple, in which the trees were cut down that they might
pitch their tents; they watched their arms all night, according to the
usage of chivalry; the prince, and some of those of highest rank, in the
Abbey of Westminster; the others in the Temple Church. On the morrow,
Prince Edward was knighted by his father in the Hall of the Palace, and
then proceeding to the Abbey, conferred the like honour on his
companions. A magnificent feast followed, at which two swans covered
with nets of gold being set on the table by the minstrels, the King
rose, and made a solemn vow to God and to the swans, that he would
avenge the death of Comyn and punish the perfidy of the Scottish rebels.
Then, addressing his son and the rest of the company, he conjured them,
in the event of his death, to keep his body unburied until his successor
should have accomplished this vow. The next morning the prince, with his
companions, departed for the Borders; Edward himself followed by slow
journeys, being only able to travel in a litter.”
Such was the bright morning of Edmund Fitzalan’s life; and the annexed
gives us the dark contrast in his tragical end.
[Sidenote: 1326. {]
The citizens, says Froissart, seeing they had no other means of saving
the town, their lives, and their fortunes, acceded to the Queen’s terms,
and opened their gates to her. She entered the town attended by Sir John
de Hainault, with all her barons, knights, and esquires, who took their
lodging therein. The others, for want of accommodation, remained
without. Sir Hugh Spencer and the Earl of Arundel were then delivered to
the Queen to do with them according to her good pleasure. The Queen then
ordered the elder Spencer and Arundel to be brought before her eldest
son and the barons assembled, and said that she and her son would see
that Justice should be done unto them according to their deeds. “Ah,
madam,” said Spencer, “God grant us an upright judge and a just
sentence; and that if we cannot find it in this world, we may find it in
another.” The charges against them being read, an old knight was called
upon to pass sentence; and her son, with the other barons and knights,
pronounced the prisoners guilty. Their sentence was, that they, the said
Earl of Arundel and Spencer, should be drawn in a hurdle to the place of
execution, there to be beheaded, and afterwards to be hung on a gibbet.
“The which was duly carried into effect on the feast of St, Denis,” at
Bristol--or, according to others, at Hereford.
RICHARD, the son and successor of Edmund, became highly distinguished
among the great men of his time. His life and exploits make no
inconsiderable figure in the national annals.
When a fleet of cruisers, sent out by the French for the annoyance of
British commerce in the Channel, had made prizes of many of our best
merchant ships, pillaged several towns on the coast, and caused much
consternation to all who were interested in the prosperity of commerce,
Arundel
[Illustration]
hoisted his flag on board the “Admiral,” and put to sea. Another fleet
was ordered to co-operate with him in the eastern coast; the first
cruise checked the audacity of the enemy, and re-established public
confidence and good order.
[Sidenote: 1340. {]
His next public service was off the harbour of Sluys, where, in an
engagement with the French fleet, he was second in command under King
Edward the Third, and gained a complete victory.
“When the king’s fleet,” says the chronicler, “was almost got to Sluys,
they saw so many masts standing before it, that they looked like a wood.
The king asked the commander of his ship what they could be, who
answered that he imagined they must be that armament of Normans which
the King of France kept at sea, and which had so frequently done him
much damage, had burnt the good town of Southampton, and taken his large
ship the ‘Christopher.’ The king replied, I have for a long time wished
to meet with them, and now, please God and St. George, we will fight
with them; for in truth they have done me so much mischief, that I will
be revenged upon them if possible.”
The large ships under Lord Arundel, the bishop of Norwich, and others,
now advanced, adds Froissart, and ran in among those of Flanders: but
they had not any advantage; for the crossbow-men defended themselves
gallantly under their commander Sir John de Bucque. He and his company
were well armed in a ship equal in bulk to any they might meet, and had
their cannons on board, which were of such a weight, that great mischief
was done by them. This battle was very fierce and obstinate, for it
continued three or four hours; and many of the vessels were sunk by the
“large and sharply-pointed bolts of iron which were cast down from the
maintops, and made large holes in their decks.” When night came on, they
separated, and cast anchor to repair their damage and take care of the
wounded. But at the next flow of the tide, they again set sail and
renewed the combat; yet the English continually gained on the Flemings,
and, having got between them and Blanquenberg and Sluys, drove them on
Cadsand, where the defeat was completed.
So great was the disaster to the French monarch on this day, that none
of his ministers would venture to communicate to him the amount of life
and property which had been sacrificed. What the minister, however,
durst not reveal, the king’s jester found means to divulge. “What arrant
cowards are those English!” said the jester. “How so?” demanded Philip.
“Because,” answered zany, “they had not courage to jump overboard, as
the French and Normans did lately at Sluys[51].” This opened the king’s
eyes, and prepared him for the disastrous tidings that were now poured
in upon him.
Six years later, Arundel was appointed admiral of the king’s fleet, and
conveyed the great military expedition from Southampton to Normandy.
When the troops were disembarked at La Hogue, he was created constable
of the forces; and with Northampton and other noblemen commanded the
second division at the battle of Cressy[52].
During the heat of the combat, when Prince Edward was surrounded by the
enemy and in personal jeopardy, Arundel and Northampton hastened to his
support; ordered their division forward, and closed with the enemy. The
English rushed upon their assailants with renewed ardour; the French
line was charged, broken, and dispersed; “earls, knights, squires, and
men-at-arms, continuing the struggle in confused masses, were mingled in
one promiscuous slaughter.” When night closed, King Philip, with a
retinue of only five barons and sixty knights, fled in dismay before the
cry of “St. George for England!” Eleven princes, twelve hundred
knights, and thirty thousand soldiers, had fallen on the side of the
French.
On another occasion, but on a different element, Arundel was present
with the king, in his “chivalrous engagement with the French fleet, off
Winchelsea;” and four years later was deputed to the court of Pope
Innocent, then at Avignon, in the fruitless attempt to arrange the
articles of a permanent reconciliation between the Crowns of England and
France.
Arundel survived these brilliant events many years; and during the
leisure secured to him by his great public services, appears to have
found occupation for his active mind and munificent taste in repairing
and embellishing his ancestral[53] Castle, where he died at an advanced
age, and bequeathed immense possessions to his family.
The contrast presented in the life and destinies of his son forms a
melancholy page in the family history. He was a brave man, and had
performed several gallant exploits. But it was his misfortune to fall
upon evil times, of which intrigue, disaffection, private revenge, and
outward violence were leading characteristics. Associating with the
turbulent spirits who surrounded an imbecile and capricious monarch, his
character took the complexion of the age.
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: 1397. {]
He is said to have been at the head of a conspiracy already mentioned in
this work, page 39, and which is thus recorded by Holinshed, Grafton,
and others of the old chroniclers[54]. The Earls of Arundel, Derby,
Marshal, and Warwick; the Archbishop of Canterbury, Arundel’s brother;
the Abbot of St. Alban’s, and the Prior of Westminster, met the Duke of
Gloucester[55] in Arundel Castle, where, receiving first the sacrament
by the hands of the Archbishop, they resolved to seize the person of
King Richard the Second, and his brothers the Dukes of Lancaster and
York, to commit them to prison, and cause the lords of the King’s
Council to be drawn and hanged. This plot, however, was divulged, it is
said, by the Earl Marshal, and the apprehension of Arundel led to the
family catastrophe, which with some little abridgment of the original
authors is related as follows:--
Apprehended under assurances of personal security, he was hurried to the
Tower, and finally tried and condemned by the Parliament at Westminster.
On the feast of St. Matthew, Richard Fitz Alaine, Earl of Arundel, was
brought forth to swear before the King and whole Parliament to such
articles as he was charged with.[56] And as he stood at the bar, the
Lord Neville was commanded by the Duke of Lancaster, which sat that day
as High Steward of England, to take the hood from his neck, and the
girdle from his waist. Then the Duke of Lancaster declared unto him that
for his manifold rebellions and treasons against the king’s majesty, he
had been arrested, and hitherto kept in ward, and now at the petitions
of the lords and commons, he was called to answer such crimes as were
there to be objected against him, and so to purge himself, or else to
suffer for his offences, such punishment as the law appointed.
First he charged him that he had ridden in armour against the King in
company of the Duke of Gloucester, and of the Earl of Warwick, to the
breach of peace and disquieting of the realm.
His answer hereunto was, that he did not this upon any evil meaning
towards the King’s person, but rather for the benefit of the King and
realm, if it were interpreted aright and taken as it ought to be.
It was further demanded of him, why he procured letters of pardon from
the King, if he knew himself guiltless. He answered he did not purchase
them for any fear he had of faults committed by him, but to stay the
malicious speech of them that neither loved the King nor him.
He was again asked whether he would deny that he had made any such rade
with the persons before named, and that in company of them he entered
not armed unto the King’s presence against the King’s will and pleasure.
To this he answered he could not deny it, but that he so did.
Then the speaker, Sir John Bushie, with open mouth besought that
judgment might be had against such a traitor; and “your faithful
commons,” said he to the King, “ask and require that so it may be done.”
The Earl, turning his head aside, quietly said to him, “Not the King’s
faithful commons” require this, “but thou, and what thou art I know.”
Then the eight appellants standing on the other side, cast their gloves
at him, and in prosecuting their appeal--which already had been
read--offered to fight with him, man to man, to justify the same.
“Then,” said the Earl, “if I were at libertie, and that it might so
stande with the pleasure of my sovereign, I would not refuse to prove
you all liars in this behalfe.”
Then spake the Duke of Lancaster, saying to him, “What have you further
to say to the points laid before you?” He answered, that of the King’s
grace he had his letters of general pardon, which he required to have
allowed. Then the duke told him that the pardon was revoked by the
prelates and noblemen in Parliament; and therefore willed him to make
some other answer.
The Earl told him again that he had another pardon under the King’s
great seal, granted him long after the King’s own motion, which also he
required to have allowed. The Duke told him that the same was likewise
revoked. After this, when the Earl had nothing more to say for himself,
the Duke pronounced judgment against him as in cases of treason is used.
But after he had made an end, and paused a little, he said, “The King
our sovereign lord of his mercy and grace, because thou art of his
blood, and one of the Peers of the realm, hath remitted all other pains,
saving the last that is to say, the beheading, and so thou shalt only
lose thy head;”--and forthwith he was had away, and led through London,
unto the Tower-hill. There went with him to see the execution done, six
great lords, of whom there were three earls, Nottingham, that had
married his daughter; Kent, that was his daughter’s son; and Huntington,
being mounted on great horses, with a great company of armed men, and
the fierce bands of the Cheshiremen, furnished with axes, swords, bows
and arrows, marching before and behind him, who only in this parliament
had licence to bear weapon, as some have written. When he should depart
the palace, he desired that his hands might be loosed to dispose of such
money as he had in his purse, betwixt that place and Charing Cross. This
was permitted; and so he gave such money as he had in alms with his own
hands, but his arms were still bound behind him.
When he came to the Tower-hill, the noblemen that were about him moved
him right earnestly to acknowledge his treason against the king. But he
in no wise would do so; but maintained that he was never traitor in word
nor deed; and herewith perceiving the Earls of Nottingham and Kent, that
stood by with other noblemen, busy to further the execution, and being,
as ye have heard, of kin, and allied to him, he spake to them, and said,
“Truly it would have beseemed you rather to have been absent, than here
at this business. But the time will come ere it be long, when as many
shall marvel at your misfortune as do now at mine.” After this,
forgiving the executioner, he besought him not to torment him long, but
to strike off his head at one blow, and feeling the edge of the sword,
whether it was sharp enough or not, he said, “It is very well, do that
thou hast to do quickly,”--and so kneeling down, the executioner with
one stroke, strake off his head. “Then returned they that were at the
execution and shewed the kinge merily of the death of the erle; but
although the kinge was then merry and glad that the dede was done, yet
after exceedingly vexed was he in his dremes.” The Earl’s body was
buried, together with his head, in the church of the Augustine Friars in
Bread-street, within the city of London.
The death of this earl[57] was much lamented among the people,
considering his sudden fall and miserable end, whereas, not long before
among all the noblemen of this land, there was none more esteemed; so
noble and valiant he was that all men spake honour of him.
After his death, as the fame went, the king was sore vexed in his sleep
with horrible dreams, imagining that he saw this earl appear unto him,
threatening him, and putting him in horrible fear, as if he had said
with the poet to King Richard--
“Nunc quoque factorum venio memor umbra tuorum,
In sequor et vultus ossea forma tuos.”--
With which visions being sore troubled in sleep, he cursed the day that
ever he knew the earl. And he was the more unquiet, because he heard it
reported that the common people took the earl for a martyr, insomuch
that some came to visit the place of his sepulture, for the opinion they
had conceived of his holiness. And, when it was bruited abroad, as for a
miracle, that his head should be grown to his body again, the tenth day
after his burial; the king sent about ten of the clock in the night
certain of the nobility to see his body taken up, that he might be
certified of the truth. Which done, and perceiving it was a fable, he
commanded the friars to take down his arms, that were set up about the
place of his burial, and to cover the grave, so as it should not be
perceived where he was buried.
[Illustration]
In less than two years, however, King Richard himself was a captive in
the hands of his subjects. Young Arundel and the son of the late Duke of
Gloucester were appointed his keepers. “Here,” said Lancaster, as he
delivered[58] Richard into their custody[59], “here is the king; he was
the murderer of your fathers; I expect you to be answerable for his
safety.”
During the first five years of Henry the Fourth, young Arundel, among
other services, shared with his sovereign the reverses which attended
his invasion of the Welsh frontier, and his campaign against Owen
Glendower.--But at length the scenes of the camp gave place to domestic
festivities; and his approaching marriage with Donna Béatrice, daughter
of John the First, king of Portugal, was publicly announced. Great
preparations were made to receive the bride with all the honours due to
her beauty and station; the royal palace and the earl’s ancestral castle
were sumptuously fitted up for her reception. She left Portugal with a
splendid retinue, made a prosperous voyage, and arrived in London in the
middle of November. On the twenty-sixth of the same month the solemnity
took place in the Royal Chapel, where, in the presence of the King and
Queen, Donna Béatrice gave her hand to the young Earl of Arundel.
Their subsequent arrival at Arundel, and the rejoicings which there met
the royal bride, may be better imagined than described. All that could
add to the splendour of the gala was ingeniously arranged and displayed;
and on her triumphant entry under the old Norman gateway of her
husband’s castle, Donna Béatrice might well confess that “the castled
heights of Algarva were not so beautiful as the verdant hills, and
embattled towers, of Arundel.”
Among the personal exploits by which his brief career was subsequently
distinguished, is the following.--During the excitement which prevailed
in France in consequence of the murder of the Duke of Orleans, “the
author of that assassination, Charles Duke of Burgundy, now taking the
alarm, applied to the English monarch for assistance.” His request was
instantly complied with; for Henry had “private motives which prompted
him in this instance.”
[Sidenote: 1411. {]
Arundel, at the head of a strong body of archers and men-at-arms, was
despatched to join the Burgundian leader, whom he met at Arras; and
thence directing their march upon the capital, arrived on the
twenty-third of October. The first point of attack was St. Cloud, where
Arundel took charge of the assault, and marching his men to the bridge
which here crosses the Seine, carried it by storm; took possession of
the town with severe loss to the enemy, and returned with numerous
prisoners, immense booty, and the thanks of the Burgundian chief.
The same Earl was also present at the siege of Harfleur, in the
subsequent reign; and under both sovereigns held many distinguished
posts of high trust and honour. But returning from the last campaign in
ill health, he died at his paternal seat of Arundel, where a magnificent
monument, quartered with the royal arms of Portugal, attests his virtues
and patriotic services.
Of John Fitzalan, the eighth Earl, the public services and achievements,
“during the French wars,” are not sufficiently prominent to demand any
special notice in these pages; but John Fitzalan, the ninth Earl, is
justly celebrated for his abilities both as a soldier and a senator.
In the grand tournament[60] which took place in the French capital in
honour of the coronation of Henry the Fifth, the English monarch, there
was a brilliant display of all that was most dazzling to the eye, and
daring to the imagination. But at the close of the scenes in which the
pride and prowess of chivalry were never more strikingly exemplified,
Arundel[61] and the Comte de St. Pol, grand master of the household,
were acknowledged to have carried away the prize from every
competitor[62].
Four years later, an event occurred which was destined to close his
military career and carry him off in “the blaze of his fame.” This
happened in an attack upon the old castle of Gerberoi, near Beauvais,
during the operations of the English army in Picardy.
[Illustration]
Leaving Gournay at midnight, the Earl arrived in eight hours with the
advanced guard in sight of the towers of Gerberoi. But in his impatience
to reduce the fortress, he had miscalculated the strength of its walls
and garrison, with the experience of its veteran commandant La Hire, and
his own diminutive force. “The enemy,” says Holinshed, “perceiving that
his horses were weary and his archers not yet come up, determined to set
upon him before the arrival of his footmen, which they knew to be a mile
behind.” As soon as he came in sight the gates were suddenly thrown
open, and three thousand troops rushing upon the handful of men under
his command, threw them into confusion. An unequal conflict
ensued--struck with panic, and pressed by an overwhelming majority, the
rout of the English became general. Arundel, with a few undaunted
followers, who had sworn to share his glory or his grave, took up his
position in “a little close” or corner of a field, where his rear was
under cover of a strong hedge, threw up a hasty fortification of pointed
stakes, and thus protected, kept the enemy at bay. But other and more
powerful means of annoyance were at hand. La Hire ordered three
culverins to be brought from the castle, and planted in front of the
“forlorn hope.” The first shot told sadly upon the members of this
intrepid band; but in the presence of their chief, nothing could damp
their fortitude, nothing could paralyse their exertions. The first
discharge was received with a shout of triumph and defiance. But the
third striking Arundel in the knee, shattered the bone and threw him to
the ground. This shot was the loss of the day. The French commander,
seizing the favourable moment, rushed upon the entrenchment--and while
Arundel, though faint with loss of blood and racked with pain, still
continued to cheer on his men--effected a breach and took captive the
gallant earl and his companions.
Arundel survived the disaster for some time, but died at last of his
wound, and was buried in the church of the Grey Friars--the Frères
Mineurs--of Beauvais.
In the collegiate church of Arundel, where he had previously selected
his own place of interment, a cenotaph of beautiful design and elaborate
workmanship still marks the spot; but, owing to some unknown cause, as
Mr. Tierney informs us, “his executor neglected this last injunction;”
and the soldier was not permitted to find rest in the sepulchre of his
fathers.
[Sidenote: 1304. {]
Humphrey, his son, became heir to his titles and estates; but, not
surviving his father more than three years, they again passed to his
uncle, William Fitzalan, then in his twenty-first year. The events of
his life, however, are not of a character to interest the reader by any
bright displays of moral excellence, which could be handed down as
examples to posterity.
“Obsequious--veering round with every change,
Now to the liege professing homage fervent;
Then as the sceptre dropp’d, could it seem strange
That faction found him its most humble servant!”
Yet with all his political faults, there was much in his private life
and conversation--much in his munificence to the church--and still more
in his encouragement of learning, to rescue his name from oblivion. He
died at Arundel, and was buried with his ancestors in the Chapel, where
a splendid altar-tomb attests his love and patronage of the fine arts.
In the preface to Caxton’s Golden Legende, honourable mention is made of
the puissant, “noble and vertuous lorde, Willyam, Erle of Arundelle.”
Dallaway quoting Vincent says--“William Earle of Arundell, a very father
of nurture and courtesy, died at a great age at Arundell, and there
triumphantly lieth buried.”
His successor, Thomas Fitzalan, was a man whose address and
accomplishments found ready acceptance at court, and secured the
good-will and approbation of more than one sovereign.
[Sidenote: 1543. {]
Henry Fitzalan, on succeeding his father this year, returned from Calais
to England, and at Arundel kept the Christmas festivities in such style
with his neighbours, that it is known, says the MS. Life quoted by Mr.
Dallaway, as “the great Xmas of Arundel.”
[Sidenote: 1544. {]
At the siege of Boulogne, in the following year, he was nominated by
King Henry as marshal of the field. The siege on this occasion proved
tedious; the town and garrison were resolute in their defence, and day
after day the besiegers were baffled in their efforts to force them to a
capitulation. At last, however, a mine, which had been successfully
worked beneath the castle, was sprung at midnight; the explosion shook
the whole citadel, and
[Illustration]
general confusion ensued. Seizing the favourable moment, Arundel ordered
the battering ordnance to play with redoubled fury upon the walls; and
heading at the same time a resolute detachment, took his station in the
entrenchments. There, while the shot and shell struck and exploded in
the ramparts over his head, he waited till a breach in the masonry was
effected; and then throwing himself into the gap, cheered on his men to
the assault. Inspired by their leader’s example, every soldier did his
duty; the besieged were driven from the works; their guns were turned
against themselves, the ramparts were cleared; capitulation was
effected, and before morning the flag of England floated in triumph from
the Castle of Boulogne.[63]
But neither prowess in the field nor wisdom in the cabinet could exempt
Arundel from the trials, calumnies, and persecutions of those who only
saw, in the royal favour extended to him, a grand obstacle to their own
advancement. After the demise of Henry, charges were accordingly brought
against him, which--although never proved--formed the ground of his
exclusion from the council, were attended with a heavy fine, and
aggravated by imprisonment. The false evidence, however, on which these
penalties were inflicted, being speedily detected, his confinement was
very brief. A large portion of the fine was remitted, but the
remembrance of such unmerited treatment was never to be effaced.
Subsequently, on the exhibition of further charges against him, he was
again sent to the Tower, where he was detained a close prisoner during
thirteen months, and was then enlarged on payment of a heavy fine, and
admonished to “behave himself according to the duty of a nobleman, and
to prove in deeds what he professed in words.”
But events were now fast hastening to a crisis. The demise of the royal
minor, the elevation of Lady Jane Grey, the ebullitions of party
violence--all spread universal excitement and alarm throughout the
country.
Arundel, who had long fostered a spirit of secret enmity and revenge
against Northumberland, as the author of his misfortunes, now perceived
that the moment of retaliation was at hand. He invited and promised the
full weight of his support to the Princess Mary in private; but in
public he zealously espoused the cause of her rival, the Lady Jane; and
was among the first who offered her homage, and swelled the magnificence
of her entry into London.
[Sidenote: 1544. {]
Northumberland was blinded by so much apparent devotion to the cause;
and when he reluctantly quitted London to stem the torrent that was now
rapidly setting in from the east, Arundel, says Stow, took leave of him
in these specious and hollow terms: “Farewell, my lord; and I pray God
be with your grace. Sorry indeed am I, that it is not my chance to go
with you, and bear you company, in whose presence I could find in my
heart to shed my blood, even at your feet.” But as soon as
Northumberland was gone, Arundel changed his tone; denounced him as a
traitor; declared his sentiments; and boldly asserted the sovereign
right of the eldest daughter of Henry the Eighth. His fervid eloquence
and appeal to the nobles present made a deep and visible impression.
Pembroke[64], infected by the enthusiasm of the speaker, starting up,
and grasping the hilt of his sword, exclaimed, “Either this sword shall
make Mary queen, or I will die in her quarrel!” The result needs not be
told. In an instant the whole aspect of affairs was changed. That very
night Mary was proclaimed in every street of the city--banquets,
bonfires, riots, and illuminations, were called to attest the fact.
The news of the revolution were scattered in all points of the compass,
and at Cambridge reached the Duke of Northumberland, who was astounded
at what had happened, and felt all the paralysing influence of his
critical position.
When Arundel, whose revenge was now secure, arrived with the warrant for
his apprehension, the duke threw himself upon his mercy, and implored
him, says the Chronicler, “to be good to him for the love of God!” But
Arundel coldly replied that his grace should have sought for mercy
sooner, and then committing him to safe custody, ordered him off to the
Tower.
During the reign of Mary, Arundel had many honours heaped upon him, and
filled several important offices of state; nor did court favour desert
him on the accession of Elizabeth, who even made him her familiar
companion, and became his frequent guest. She visited him at her
splendid palace of Nonsuch, of which he was keeper; joined in all the
revels in celebration of her visit; accepted at her departure a
“cupboard of plate” and repaid him with assurances of cordial regard and
unlimited confidence.
Flattered by such manifestations of royal favour, Arundel went so far in
his loyal attachment as to become one of her Majesty’s impassioned
suitors. He was a Catholic indeed, but love and loyalty were divinities
to which religion had been often known to bend; and having given his
vote and influence to all her state measures--and not weighing the
“queen’s sincerity by his own”--he looked forward with bright
anticipations of the future. But Elizabeth was as much an adept in
manœuvring as the earl; her chief object had now been accomplished; she
no longer required his services--she remembered his support of her
sister Mary; and when Arundel ventured to address her as the royal Chloë
of his admiration, the queen threw off the mask, and instead of
receiving the homage thus tendered, in the sense it was meant, ordered
the noble earl to be placed under arrest. Well might he exclaim--
“Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ?”
The arrest however was soon removed; and with his enlargement a more
rational course presented itself for his choice. His health requiring
change of climate, he went abroad; and after spending fourteen months in
travel beyond seas, he returned to London in a style that resembled the
triumphant progress of a sovereign, and to present, as a peace-offering
to her Majesty, “a pair of the first silk stockings[65] ever seen in
England.”
Once more restored to favour, he did not long maintain his position; but
again lapsing into unlawful practices, by tampering in the question
respecting Mary, Queen of Scotland, and the Duke of Norfolk, his
son-in-law; he finally lost the queen’s countenance, and was recommitted
as a prisoner to the palace of Nonsuch. The dreams of ambition were now
past. On his liberation, he retired from the political world to spend
the remainder of his days in study and domestic seclusion, where he
could moralise on the mad projects of ambition, the vexations and
vanities of court life.
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: 1589. {]
He died at Arundel House in the Strand, and was buried “with solemn pomp
and costly funerall” in the collegiate Chapel of Arundel, where his
monument is still an object of no common interest to the stranger.
We shall next, in accordance with our plan, proceed to notice such
passages in the history of the HOWARDS, Earls of Arundel, as may best
exhibit some of the public services, the extraordinary events, or
striking incidents in which they have severally been engaged. In these
sketches, however, we purpose to exemplify the character of each by
authentic traits of conduct in the field and the cabinet; in the noon of
fame, and in the night of misfortune.
In a review of their history and achievements, however, our notice,
strictly speaking, ought to commence at that period when the titles of
Arundel and Norfolk became first united in the same Peer. But the task
will not be tedious, and cannot be uninteresting, to present our readers
with a genealogical epitome of the Howards of Norfolk.
[Sidenote:
1298. {
1307. {
]
[Sidenote: 1483. {]
The origin of this family is involved in obscurity, which the diligence
of research appears to have rendered more obscure, making darkness
visible. For antiquity’s sake, however, it is sufficient to state that
the name was of some distinction in the 13th century; and that the
ancestor of the present family, John Howard of Wigen Hall, in Norfolk,
was a Judge of Common Pleas, summoned to Parliament by Edward the First,
and distinguished for his talents and public services. Sir Robert
Howard, the fifth in regular descent, had the good fortune to contract a
marriage alliance with the second daughter of Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
and his Duchess Elizabeth, sister and co-heir of Thomas Fitzalan, Earl
of Arundel. By her father’s side, the noble bride was a grand-daughter
of Margaret Plantagenet, whose father--Thomas de Brotherton--was the
fifth son of Edward the First. This alliance, by connecting Sir Robert
and his descendants with the blood royal of England, opened a path to
those splendid honours by which they were subsequently distinguished.
Sir John Howard, his immediate descendant, was promoted during the reign
of three successive sovereigns to many high posts of trust and dignity;
and at last summoned to Parliament by the title of Baron Howard.
Thirteen years later he was elevated to the highest title in the
peerage; his son was created Earl of Surrey, by Richard the Third; he
was invested with the hereditary office of Earl Marshal of England;
dignities which his ancestors Mowbray, Thomas de Brotherton, and Roger
Bigod, had severally enjoyed as Dukes of Norfolk. But the high honours
thus showered upon him, were doomed very shortly after to be blasted.
The battle of Bosworth was at hand; he had “touched the highest point of
all his greatness,” and whilst--
He bore his blushing honours thick upon him,
The third day came a frost, a killing frost.
The following letter, written only a very few days previous to the
battle, and addressed to the Sheriff of Norfolk, is a document of no
inconsiderable interest:--“To my well-beloved Friend John Paston, be
this bill delivered in haste.--Well beloved Friend, I commend me to you,
letting you to understand that the King’s enemies be a-land, and that
the King would have set forth as upon Monday, but only for our Lady-day;
but for certain he goeth forth as upon Tuesday, for a servant of mine
hath brought to me the certainty. Whereupon I pray you that ye meet
with me at Bury, as upon Tuesday night, and that ye bring with you such
company of _tall men_, as ye may goodly make at my cost and charge;
beside that which ye have promised the King; and I pray you, ordain them
_jackets of my livery_, and I shall content you at your meeting with
me--Your lover, J. NORFOLK.”--Green.
One of the most important days in the annals of Great Britain was now at
hand. The royal family was nearly extinct; the nobility was sadly
diminished and cut off; the nation itself was thinned of its best and
bravest inhabitants--the sad results of twelve sanguinary engagements;
and again two formidable armies had taken the field under two of the
ablest politicians that ever hoisted the standard of ambition or
revenge.
On this memorable day King Richard’s front was commanded by the subjects
of this notice, John Duke of Norfolk, and his son, the Earl of Surrey;
the second by Richard in person; and the right wing by Henry, Earl of
Northumberland. Richmond’s front, being very inferior in numbers to that
of his rival, was thinly extended over a wide surface, so as to present
a more formidable appearance, and was commanded by John de Vere, Earl of
Oxford, whose father and brother had both perished on the scaffold in
support of the house of Lancaster. De Vere was also first-cousin to
Norfolk, whose blood he was destined to shed on this disastrous field.
The other divisions of Richmond’s army were led by Sir John Savage, and
Sir Gilbert Talbot; while Richmond himself took up a conspicuous station
in the field under his uncle the Earl of Pembroke.
After a night of fearful preparation, Norfolk, in issuing forth early in
the morning, discovered the following rhyme rudely pencilled on the door
of his tent--sadly ominous of the event at hand--
“Jack of Norfolk, be not too bold,
For Dickon, thy master, is bought and sold[66].”
The battle, now set in array, commenced with a discharge of arrows;
after which, the Earl of Oxford, in order to concentrate his forces,
issued a command, that every man should fight close to his standard. In
this movement, Norfolk and Oxford, leading their respective vans,
approached each other. With a rancour sharpened at this moment by their
very relationship, each singled out the other as an object worthy of his
lance. With cool determined intrepidity they dashed forward to the
rencontre; and shivering their spears at the first thrust, drew their
swords and resumed the trial of strength and skill. Rushing in upon his
antagonist’s guard, Norfolk’s powerful arm made a sweeping blow at the
head of De Vere; but the blade glancing down from his polished helmet
failed in its effect, and only wounded him in the left arm.
[Illustration]
Quickly recovering his balance, and exasperated by the dread of
discomfiture more than the pain of his wound, Oxford returned the blow
with tremendous effect; hewed the visor from Norfolk’s helmet, and
thereby exposed his face to the missiles that were falling in showers
around them. Oxford, like a generous knight, disdaining to take
advantage of his gallant adversary, instantly dropped the point of his
weapon. But his forbearance did not save his noble kinsman; for, at the
same instant, struck in the forehead by a shaft which penetrated the
brain, Norfolk made a convulsive spring in the saddle, and fell
prostrate on the field. Oxford, deeply affected by his death, sadly
exclaimed--“A better knight cannot die, though he might in a better
cause!”
The result of this day needs not to be told; but the anecdote of the
young Surrey, embarked in the same cause, and in fulfilment of the same
oath of fidelity which bound his father to the standard of King Richard,
is worth repeating in this place.
During the heat of the battle, conscious of his father’s fall, and
exhausted by extraordinary exertions of mind and body, he was surrounded
by a powerful body of his antagonists, each of whom was ambitious to
distinguish himself by disabling or making him prisoner. Observing at
this moment the brave Sir John Stanley in the last charge, Surrey
presented to him the hilt of his sword, and said, “The day is your own,
there is my sword; let me die by yours--but not by an ignoble hand!”
“God forbid,” replied the generous Stanley--“live for new honours.
Stanley will never shed the blood of so brave a youth. No fault attaches
to you! the error was your father’s!” “What!” rejoined Surrey, again
recovering his sword; “does the noble Talbot insult the vanquished?
Loyalty, Sir Knight, is the watchword of our house. My father revered
the sacred authority of the king, though he lamented the errors of the
man. Never shall I repent the choice I have made, seeing that it can
leave no stain upon my honour. Whoever wears the crown, him will I fight
for; nay, were it placed on nothing better than a stake in that hedge, I
would draw my sword in its defence.”
The same frank and gallant bearing in the presence of Richmond after the
battle, secured for young Surrey the royal confidence.
The scene is thus described by Sir John Beaumont, in his “Bosworth
Field.”
Courageous TALBOT had with SURREY met;
And after many blows, began to fret,
That one so young in arms should thus unmoved
Resist his strength, so oft in war approved.
And now the Earl beholds his father’s fall,
Whose death like horrid darkness frighted all;
Some give themselves as captives, others fly;
But this young lion casts his generous eye
On MOWBRAY’S lion, painted on his shield,
And with that king of beasts repines to yield.
“The field,” saith he, “in which the lion stands,
Is blood, and blood I offer to the hands
Of daring foes; but never shall my flight
Dye black my lion, which, as yet, is white.”
His enemies, like cunning huntsmen, strive
In binding snares to take their prey alive,
While he desires to expose his naked breast,
And thinks the sword that deepest strikes is best.
Young HOWARD single with an army fights;
When, moved with pity, two renowned knights,
Strong Clarendon, and valiant Conyers, try
To rescue him--in which attempt they die.
Now SURREY, fainting, scarce his sword can hold;
Which made a common soldier grow so bold,
To lay rude hands upon that noble flower,
Which he disdaining--anger gives him power--
Erects his weapon with a nimble round,
And sends the peasant’s arm to kiss the ground.
This done, to TALBOT he presents his blade,
And saith, “It is not hope of life hath made
This my submission; but my strength is spent,
And some perhaps of villain blood will vent
[Illustration]
My weary soul; this favour I demand,
That I may die by your victorious hand.”
“Nay, God forbid that any of my name,”
Quoth TALBOT, “should put out so bright a flame
As burns in thee, brave youth! where thou hast err’d
It was thy father’s fault, since he preferr’d
A tyrant’s crown before the juster side.”
The Earl, still mindful of his birth, replied,
“I wonder, TALBOT, that thy noble heart
Insults on ruins of the vanquish’d part:
We had the right; if now to _you_ it flow,
The fortune of your swords hath made it so.
I never will my luckless choice repent,
Nor can it stain mine honour or descent;
Set England’s royal wreath upon a stake,
There will I fight, and not the place forsake.
And if the will of God hath so disposed
That RICHMOND’S brow be with the crown inclosed,
I shall to him, or his, give doubtless signs,
That duty in my thoughts--not faction--shines.”
And the sincerity of his professions is fully attested by his subsequent
conduct, both in the camp and the cabinet. He became Lord Treasurer of
the Household, attended the Princess Margaret to Scotland on her
marriage with James the Fourth--the most chivalrous prince of his
age,--and, with his wife and daughter, was present at all the
magnificent scenes, fêtes, banquets, and tournaments, which attended
that ill-starred alliance.
On the accession of Henry the Eighth, he continued in the same high
office--was elected a privy councillor, appointed earl marshal of the
kingdom, and his majesty’s lieutenant for the north of England. His next
appearance in the field was at the battle of Flodden, where, with his
two sons, he had the chief command. The fortunes of that day are too
well known to every reader to require any lengthened description in this
place; but to connect the achievements with the subject of this brief
memoir, it becomes necessary to take a cursory view
“Of the stern strife and carnage drear
Of Flodden’s fatal field;
Where shiver’d was fair Scotland’s spear,
And broken was her shield.”
[Sidenote:
Sept. 9, {
1513. {
]
On the morning of the battle the English army advanced in four
divisions. On the right, which first engaged, were the two sons of Earl
Surrey: Thomas Howard, Admiral of England, and Sir Edmund, Knight
Marshal of the Army. Their divisions were separated from each other; but
at the request of Sir Edmund, his brother’s battalion was drawn up very
near to his own. The centre was commanded by Surrey in person; the left
wing by Sir Edward Stanley, with the men of Lancashire and Cheshire.
Lord Dacres, with a large body of horse, formed a reserve. When the
smoke which the wind had driven between the armies was somewhat
dispersed, they perceived that the Scots, after having set fire to their
tents, had moved down the hill in a similar order of battle, and in
profound silence.
“Scarce could they see or hear their foes
Until at weapon-point they close--
They close in clouds of smoke and dust,
With sword-sway and with lances’ thrust;
And such a yell was there
Of sudden and portentous birth,
As if men fought upon the earth,
And fiends in upper air.
Oh, life and death was in the shout;
Revel and rally, charge and rout,
And triumph and despair!”
The Earls of Huntly and Home commanded the left wing of the Scots, and
charged Sir Edmund Howard with such impetuosity and success as entirely
discomfited his part of the right wing. Sir Edmund’s banner was beaten
down--
Then fell the spotless banner white,
The Howard’s ‘Lion’ fell--
and he himself escaped with difficulty to his brother’s division. The
admiral, however, stood firm; and quickly advancing to his support with
the reserve of cavalry, appears to have kept the victors in effectual
check.
Then seizing the favourable moment and pushing forward, the admiral
charged and routed a large division of the Scottish army in his front,
commanded by the Earls of Crawford and Montrose, both of whom were slain
on the spot.
The King and Surrey, who led the centres of their respective armies,
were now engaged in close and doubtful conflict. James, surrounded by
the flower of his kingdom, supported by the reserve under the Earl of
Borthwick, but impatient and exasperated by the galling discharge of
arrows from the English bowmen, made his attack with such impetuosity
that the standard of Surrey was in imminent danger. But at that critical
moment Stanley, who had routed the Scottish wing on the left, and was
now pursuing his career of victory, arrived on the right flank in the
rear of the king’s division, which,
[Illustration]
by throwing itself into a circle, disputed the battle till night closed
in upon them.
Surrey then drew back his forces; for the Scottish centre remaining
unbroken, and their left wing being victorious, he yet doubted the event
of the field, for in the words of the poet--
“The stubborn spearmen still made good
Their dark impenetrable wood
Each stepping where his comrade stood
The instant that he fell;
No thought was there of dastard flight;
Link’d in the serried phalanx tight
Groom fought like noble, squire like knight,
As fearlessly and well.”
The Scottish army, however, dispirited by the loss of their king and his
principal chiefs, abandoned the field before day-break, with a loss of
between eight and ten thousand men--among whom were the very prime of
their nobility, gentry, and even clergy.--Here the reader is referred to
Pinkerton.
Surrey’s loss was also very great; perhaps within one-third of the
vanquished; but those who fell were only men of inferior note. According
to the old ballad, there perished--
“Never a nobleman of fame
But Bryan Tunstall bold, alas!
Whose corse home to his burial came,
With worship great, as worthy was.”
The trophies of this victory were received by King Henry under the
walls
[Sidenote: 1524. {]
of Tournay, to which he had laid siege; and every honour which could
testify the royal satisfaction, or gratify a victorious commander, was
subsequently conferred on the hero of the day. He was restored to the
dukedom of Norfolk, acquired immense possessions, filled the highest
offices of state, lived in princely splendour at the royal castle of
Framlingham, and died at the age of eighty; leaving a numerous family to
support his dignities, and share his vast possessions. He was the last
of the Dukes of Norfolk buried in the Abbey of Thetford.
Her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, was the mother of Anne Boleyn, who fell
a victim to the very hand which heaped so many honours upon her uncle
and his sons. The Duke himself presided as High Steward at her trial;
and even her father, “reluctantly it is to be hoped, sat among the
judges.”
Thomas Howard, Admiral of England, his eldest son and successor,
inherited the talents of his father; but with the accumulated honours of
his house, and the satisfaction which accompanied him in the discharge
of his duties to the sovereign and the state, misfortune was intimately
blended. His achievements in the field, his wisdom in the cabinet, his
devotion to the throne, appeared merely to hasten a catastrophe, from
which he was only saved by the death of his persecutor; but which
struck, in the person of his Son, one of the noblest victims that ever
sank under the axe of despotism:--
“Who has not heard of Surrey’s fame?
His was the hero’s soul of fire;
And his the bard’s immortal name,
And his was love exalted high
By all the glow of chivalry.”
The crime for which this young nobleman was arraigned has never been
properly investigated. His biographers and historians of the time,
satisfied with the manifest absurdity of the treason alleged against
him, have omitted to point out the grounds upon which the inference of
Surrey’s guilt was founded, namely, the crime of quartering, with his
own, the royal arms of England. A few words on this subject, on the
authority of a recent biographer, may serve to elucidate some portion of
its obscurity.
The arms of Edward the Confessor are said to have been a blue field,
charged with a gold cross at the end, flory, between five gold martlets.
Royal arms appear to have been used in the time of Richard the First,
who bore a red shield, charged with three gold lions, which have ever
since been the royal standard of England[67]. In the reign of Edward the
First, and perhaps even in the previous century, the arms of three
saints--Saint George, Saint Edmund, and Saint Edward the
Confessor--were always borne on the national banner; but none of which
were supposed to have any connexion
[Illustration]
with the sovereignty of England. Richard the Second, however, choosing
the Confessor for his patron or saint, impaled his arms with those of
England and France; “and granted, at the same time, the Confessor’s arms
to be borne, per pale, by two or three of the most eminent men of his
court, who were descended from the blood royal.” One of the noblemen so
distinguished was Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; the right to whose
arms and quarterings was indisputably inherited by the Earl of Surrey;
but whether the coat or shield of the Confessor was granted to Mowbray
for life only, or to him and “his heirs for ever,” is a question which
remains still unsolved. Surrey, however, conceiving himself entitled to
it, obtained the sanction of the heralds, and assumed the distinction
among his other armorial quarterings. But the injustice of construing
this act into a treasonable design is too glaring to require either
comment or exposure. “The King himself, in granting armorial bearings to
Anne Boleyn, took especial care to show her royal and illustrious
descent through the Howards, by introducing the arms of Thomas de
Brotherton, son of Edward the First; and of the Warrens, Earls of
Surrey, out of the Howard shield![68]” But in that despotic reign,
virtue, talent, and integrity were no protection against the highest
penalty--the severest sentence which an obsequious legislation could
pronounce or inflict. Surrey was too bright an ornament to be endured
near the throne. His very accomplishments--his prowess--his high
spirit--his sword and pen--his triumphs in the lists--and his success on
the lyre, all raised up enemies whose private resentments could only be
appeased with blood.
[Sidenote: 1547. {]
SURREY was brought to trial at the Guildhall on the 13th of January,
where he defended himself with singular courage and ability; repelled
the charges so insidiously preferred against him; impeached the flimsy
evidence set up in support of the trial; appealed to the authority of
the heralds for the obnoxious quarterings on his shield; and disclaimed,
with all the indignation of conscious innocence, the treasonable
imputations so rancorously heaped upon him.
In the course of examination, when a witness stated that, in a former
conversation with the accused Earl, he repeated some strong expression
used by Surrey, with his own insolent reply--which left it to be
inferred that Surrey had tamely brooked his defiance--the young noble
fixed his penetrating glance for an instant on the speaker, then turning
round to the jury--“I leave it to you,” he said, “to judge whether it be
possible that the man before you should so address the Earl of Surrey,
and he not strike him on the spot.”
But the die was cast; the sentence of forfeiture was pronounced; the
King was deaf to the supplications of his friends--to the last appeal
for mercy. The thirst of blood had increased with the last agonies of
dissolving nature; and, on the twenty-first morning of the same month,
Surrey was hurried to Tower-hill, and there, under the blow of the
executioner, bequeathed that name to posterity, around which, poet,
painter, historian, and every lover of his country and her literature,
have twined the wreaths of immortality.
“Thou jealous ruthless tyrant, Heaven repay
On thee, and on thy children’s latest line,
The wild caprice of thy despotic sway;
The gory bridal bed; the plundered shrine;
The murdered Surrey’s blood; the tears of Geraldine!”
Of the lives of Surrey and fair Geraldine, and the tournament in which
his knights carried away the prize in the Tuscan capital, we adopt the
following short sketch from the “Loves of the Poets:”--
“In the reign of Cosmo the First, the second Grand Duke of Tuscany of
Lorenzo’s family, Florence, it is said, beheld a novel and extraordinary
spectacle. A young traveller, from a court and a country which the
Italians of that day seemed to regard much as we now do the Esquimaux,
combining the learning of the scholar, and the amiable bearing of the
courtier, with all the rash bravery of youthful romance, astonished the
inhabitants of that queenly city, first by rivalling her polished nobles
in the splendour of his retinue--the gallantry of his manners; and next,
by boldly proclaiming that his ‘Ladye-love’ was superior to all that
Italy could vaunt of beauty. That she was ‘Oltre le belle, bella,’--fair
beyond the fairest; and maintaining his boast is a solemn tourney, held
in her honour, to the overthrow of all his opponents. This was our
English Surrey, one of the earliest and most elegant
[Illustration]
of our amatory poets, and the lover of the fair Geraldine. According to
the old tradition repeated by all Surrey’s biographers, he visited on
his travels the famous necromancer Cornelius Agrippa, who, in a magic
mirror, revealed to him the fair figure of his Geraldine, lying
dishevelled on a couch, and, by the light of a taper, reading one of his
tenderest Sonnets.”
“Dark was the vaulted room of gramarye,[69]
To which the wizard led the gallant knight,
Save that before a mirror, huge and high,
A hallow’d taper shed a glimmering light
On mystic implements of magic might;
On cross, and character, and talisman,
And almagest, and altar, nothing bright:
For fitful was the lustre, pale and wan,
As watchlight by the bed of some departing man.
“But soon, within that mirror huge and high,
Was seen a self-emitted light to gleam;
And forms upon its breast the Earl ’gan spy,
Cloudy and indistinct, as feverish dream;
Till, slow arranging, and defined, they seem
To form a lordly and a lofty room,
Part lighted by a lamp with silver beam.
Placed by a couch of Agra’s silken loom,
And part by moonshine pale, and part was hid in gloom.
“Fair all the pageant--but how passing fair
The slender form, which lay on couch of Ind!
O’er her white bosom stray’d her hazel hair,
Pale her dear cheek, as if for love she pined;
All in her night-robe loose she lay reclined,
And, pensive, read from tablet eburine,
Some strain that seem’d her inmost soul to find:--
That favour’d strain was SURREY’S raptured line,
That fair and lovely form, the LADY GERALDINE.”
Within the narrow limits to which this work is necessarily restricted,
it is impossible to do justice to this melancholy subject, which of
itself has afforded, and would again afford, matter sufficient to form a
volume of the deepest interest. It has, however, long since engaged the
genius of Campbell and some of the best spirits of our literature, in
whose works the name and fame of Henry Howard are embalmed.
Thomas, the eldest son of the “murdered Surrey,” was restored to the
dukedom of Norfolk by Queen Elizabeth. Loaded with many honours and
dignities which evinced the entire confidence she reposed in him, all
appeared to augur that so brilliant a career would have closed in a
tranquil night. But the evil genius, which presided over his worldly
destinies, was yet to be appeased. The orders of knighthood; the captain
generalship of the forces the embassies and commissions, with which he
was successively honoured by his sovereign, were only preludes to the
last sad history of his life:--
He did but dream on sovereignty,
Like one that stands upon a promontory,
And spies a far-off shore, where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
And chides the sea that sunders him from thence.
KING HENRY VI.
Having received his early education under Fox, the martyrologist, then
tutor in the family of his aunt, the Duchess of Richmond, he took the
degree of master of arts at Cambridge, on the grand reception and
entertainment of Queen Elizabeth at that University.
After discharging with fidelity and éclat the high posts of trust
already mentioned; he was at last entangled by the snares of flattery
and overweening ambition, and charged with treasonable designs entered
into by him to forward the schemes of Mary Queen of Scots, with the view
of allying himself with that ill-fated Princess by marriage,--views in
which his ambition or his sympathy had got the better of his deliberate
judgment, and in which he appears to have been encouraged by those
hollow friends, who sought not his honour but his disgrace. He was
accordingly arraigned, tried; and confessing his wilful participation in
the plot, expiated his offence on the scaffold with characteristic
firmness and composure.
[Sidenote: 1572. {]
By his alliance with Mary Fitzalan of Arundel, whom he lost within a
year of their marriage, he had one son--Philip, Earl of Arundel.
To detail the circumstances of his life would far exceed our limits; but
one or two incidents, taken from his later history, will be neither
uninteresting nor uninstructive.--The charges brought against him
were--conspiring, with Cardinal Allen, to restore the Roman Catholic
faith in England; and concerting measures for quitting the realm without
the queen’s knowledge and permission. With regard to the conspiracy, the
evidence was too much based on party jealousy, vague hearsay, and
surmise, to establish anything like conviction in the minds of
unprejudiced judges. But of his attempted evasion from the kingdom, the
fact is abundantly clear, and is thus related.
After his liberation from the Tower, his fears of new prosecutions and
imprisonment became so excited, that he hastened from London to his
castle of Arundel, and there prepared to join a vessel previously
engaged for his service, and then waiting for him at Little Hampton.
Walsingham, however, who had his eyes and his spies everywhere, and is
proudly recorded to have “out-shot the Jesuits with their own bow, and
over-reached them in their equivocation,” was already in the secret.
Before the Earl could reach the coast, the captain had received private
notice from the Council, and was prepared to act in accordance with his
instructions. Day after day was consumed in waiting, as the skipper
pretended, for “a fair wind.” At length, the propitious moment having
arrived, Arundel, attended by two domestics, went on board, and the wind
being in their favour, the vessel made rapid way, and soon cleared that
beautiful coast where the castle and forest of Arundel were among the
last objects that faded from his eye, and led him, reflecting on the
past, to ejaculate--
Quæ regio in terris nostri non plena laboris!
Continuing their course across the channel, his mind now recovered some
portion of that serenity, to which he had long been a stranger. The
danger of discovery was seemingly past; the treachery of friends and the
machinations of enemies were alike forgotten or forgiven; and full of
pleasing anticipations of the future, he resigned himself to repose,
with this hope--
Hæc olim meminisse juvabit.
His soothing reverie, however, was soon to be dissipated. At midnight, a
rocket, or other private signal, previously agreed upon, was let off
from the mast-head, whilst the vessel continued her course. But at
length they were suddenly hailed by a ship of war--ordered to
lay-to--and instantly boarded.
[Illustration]
The result is briefly told; the noble fugitive was hurried back to the
shore, delivered into safe custody, carried to London, and lodged in the
Tower, where, after trial and conviction, he was suffered to drag out an
existence of several years under all the harshness of office, the pangs
of disappointment, the hourly sorrows of paternal solicitude, and an
exhausted constitution. Four years afterwards this nobleman was
arraigned of high-treason, brought to his trial in Westminster Hall
before twenty-five of his peers, the Earl of Derby being high steward on
the occasion.
The “Earl appeared in a wrought velvet gown furred with martins, laid
about with gold lace, and buttoned with gold buttons, a black satin
doublet, a pair of velvet hose, and a high black hat on his head.” He
was a very tall man, somewhat swarthy, and coming to the bar made two
obeisances to the state, and to the nobles, and others present. Being
required to hold up his hand, he raised it very high, saying, “Here are
as true a man’s heart and hand as ever came into this hall.” It was
urged against him that “he was a traitor, being a Papist; that the Queen
of Scots had considered him one of her best friends; that Cardinal Allen
had spoken of him as the chief hope of the Roman Catholics in England;”
and that his letter to Queen Elizabeth, written on the eve of his
intended escape by sea, had plainly accused the national justice, with
regard to his father’s trial. He was then remanded to the Tower, and
there languished till his death, which was evidently accelerated by the
cruel suspense in which he was kept as to the final remission or
execution of his sentence.
[Sidenote: 1592. {]
Thomas Howard, the celebrated Earl, was brought up under the care of his
mother, a lady of great and eminent virtues; who “was not negligent,”
says Sir Edward Walker, “in his education; so that Robert Devereux, Earl
of Essex, was wont to call him the ‘Winter Pear,’ and to say, that, if
he lived, he would become a great and a wise man.” On the accession of
James the First, he was not only restored in blood by act of parliament,
but also reinstated in all such titles of honour and precedence as
Philip Earl of Arundel had forfeited; and in the honour, state, and
dignity of Earl of Surrey, and to such dignity of baronies as Thomas
Duke of Norfolk, his grandfather, had lost by his attainder.
In Italy, where he delighted to reside, he greatly improved his natural
taste and disposition, and became an excellent judge and patron of the
fine arts In the parliament of this year, says Collins, Robert Lord
Spencer, during the debates on the prerogative, speaking with great
freedom against the government, and citing examples from history to
illustrate his arguments, the Earl of Arundel interrupted him, by
saying, “When those things happened, my lord, your ancestors were
keeping sheep;” to which Spencer replied, “And yours, my Lord Arundel,
were hatching treason.” They were both ordered to retire; and Arundel,
as the aggressor, was, notwithstanding the court interest, sent to the
Tower, from which he was soon released upon making his submission.
He attended King Charles at his coronation in Scotland; where all
persons strove to outvie each other in the splendour of their apparel,
retinue, and entertainment; but, still keeping up his own simplicity of
dress and living, lost not on that account the honour and esteem due to
his person and quality.--He possessed the richest gallery in Europe.
[Sidenote: 1646. {]
His personal appearance and character are thus drawn: “He was tall of
stature, and of shape and proportion rather goodly than neat; his
[Illustration]
countenance was majestical and grave; his visage long; his eyes large,
black, and piercing; a hooked nose, and some warts or moles on his
cheeks; his complexion was brown, his hair thin both on his head and
beard: he was of stately presence and gait, so that any man who saw him,
though in never so ordinary a habit, could not but conclude him to be a
great person: his garb and fashion drawing more observation than did the
rich apparel of others; it being a common saying of James Hay, Earl of
Carlisle, ‘Here comes the Earl of Arundel in his plain stuff and trunk
hose, with his beard in his teeth, that looks more like a nobleman than
any of us.’”
He was more learned in men and manners than in books, yet understood the
Latin very well, was master of the Italian; and a great favourer of
learned men, such as Sir Robert Cotton, Sir Henry Spelman, Mr. Camden,
Mr. Selden, and other antiquaries. He was a great master of order and
ceremony, and knew, and kept greater distance towards his sovereign than
any person of that time, and expected no less from his inferiors; often
complaining, that the too great affability of the king, and the French
garb of the court, would bring majesty into contempt. In council he was
grave and succinct, rather discharging his conscience and honour, than
complying with particular interests; and so was never at the head of
business, or principal in favour; contenting himself to be as it were
the supporter of ancient nobility and gentry, and to interpose in their
behalf.--He was a Protestant in religion, but no bigot or puritan; and
professed more to affect moral virtues, than nice questions and
controversies. He was most faithful and affectionate to his lady,
indulgent to his children. His recreations were,--the education of his
grandchildren; conversation with them; overlooking his rare collections;
and when not diverted by business, pleasing himself in retirement to the
country.”
[Illustration]
The anecdote of the earl’s presenting old Parr to King Charles may
possibly be new to some of our readers. Parr at that time had lived and
enjoyed twice ‘three score years and ten,’ without manifesting either
infirmity of mind or body. He was one day the subject of conversation at
Court; and Arundel was authorised to present this living chronicle of
the kings of England to his majesty. Introduced to the royal presence,
King Charles addressed him with much affability, and said--“Well, Parr,
you have lived much longer than other men; pray, what have you _done_
more than other men?” “Done, your highness?” said Parr; “I think I may
say without vanity that I have done more than other men--I did penance
after I had passed my hundredth year.”--The following is told of his son
Lord Mowbray:
“At a committee of the House of Lords,” says Clarendon, “in the
afternoon, in some debate, passion arose between the Earl of Pembroke,
then lord chamberlain of the household, and the Lord Mowbray, eldest son
of the Earl of Arundel; and from angry and disdainful words, an offer or
attempt of blows was made; for which misdemeanour they were the next day
both sent to the Tower by the House of Lords. The king, taking advantage
of this miscarriage, and having been incensed by the carriage of the
Earl of Pembroke, sent to him for his staff, and bestowed it upon the
Earl of Essex.”
It is certain that Arundel faithfully adhered to the king, serving as a
volunteer in his army, till he was sent for by his father to join him at
Padua, where, after some stay in that city, and when on the point of
returning home, his father, who resolved to follow him, became suddenly
indisposed and died. Whereupon his lordship immediately gave orders for
embalming his remains; brought them over with him to England, where he
found the king’s affairs in a deplorable condition.
Thomas, (son and heir to Henry, Earl of Arundel,) who was Earl of
Arundel, Surrey, and Norfolk, after travelling into Italy, died at
Padua, unmarried. The family honours and estate descended to Henry his
brother, sixth Duke of Norfolk, who, being desirous of improving his
natural abilities by travel, set out from London in February 1664, with
his brother Edward to visit Constantinople, in compliance with an
invitation from Count Lesley, whom the Emperor Ferdinand had nominated
his ambassador extraordinary to the Sublime Porte. His Lordship was
received, in every city and town in his way through Germany, with the
honours due to his birth and fortune. At Vienna, he was immediately
presented to his Imperial Majesty, and had the honour of being a
frequent guest with the Emperor and Empress; as contained in his
“relation of a journey from London to Vienna, and thence to
Constantinople.”
After his Lordship’s return to England, in 1665, he was created Doctor
of the Civil Law at Oxford, having been a munificent benefactor to that
University, by his gift of the famous Marmora Arundeliana[70].
[Illustration]
HENRY, seventh Duke of Norfolk, was of Magdalen-College, Oxford, where
he took the degree of master of arts. In his father’s life-time, he was
summoned to Parliament, by the title of Lord Mowbray, and next day,
being introduced into the House of Peers, took his place at the upper
end of the Barons’ bench. On the accession of James II., he signed the
order, dated at Whitehall, for proclaiming him King of England. And by
his Majesty’s being Sovereign of the Order of the Garter, his stall, as
Duke of York, became vacant; when, at a chapter held at Whitehall,
Norfolk was elected of that most noble Order, and installed at Windsor,
the same year. He was then appointed Colonel of the twelfth regiment of
foot: but, in the course of next year, resigned his command. Bishop
Burnet relates, That the King giving the Duke of Norfolk the sword of
state to carry before him to the Chapel Royal, where service was to be
performed, the Duke went with it as far as the door of the Chapel, and
there with a profound obeisance, made a dead halt. Observing this, the
King said to him, My lord, your father would have gone _further_: to
which the Duke very significantly answered, Your majesty’s father was
the better man, and He would not have gone _so far_.
Additional and more recent anecdotes of the House of Howard will be
found in subsequent portions of this work.
[Illustration: TOMB OF THE HOWARD FAMILY IN FRAMLINGHAM CHURCH.]
AUTHORITIES quoted or referred to:--Orderic, Vitalis, Histor.
Ecclesiast. lib. xiii.--Simeon Dunelmensis,--Simeon of Durham,
Hist. Kings of England, A.D. 616-1113, ed. 1732. Camden, Annales,
ed. 1717.--Doomsday Book, ed. 1783.--Bishop Rede’s Register, on the
authority of Mr. Tierney, p. 16.--Royal Patents--Clarendon’s
History.--Broughton, (Hugh and Thomas,) Collins, Peerage, 1760, 7
vols.--Caraccioli, History of Arundel.--Dallaway, Rape of
Arundel--Do. West Sussex.--History of the Castle and Town of
Arundel, by the Rev. M. A. Tierney.--Criticisms on the above.
Horsfield, History, Antiquities, and Topography of Sussex. Speed,
fol. ed. Harding’s Chronicles. Grafton’s Chronicle. Froissart.
Monstrelet, 4to. Montfaucon--France Monumentale. MS. Description of
Arundel and Environs. Notes on Mr. Tierney’s History, MS. English,
French, and Latin Poets. Pictorial History. Civil and Military
Transactions. Histories of Hume, Smollett, Lingard, Hallam,
Chalmers’ Caledonia. Pinkerton Histories of Framlingham--Loder, and
Green.--Lodge, &c. &c.
[Illustration: Sᵀ. ALBAN’S ABBEY.]