A DUKE IN RAGS.
Among the Lancastrian chiefs who survived the two fields on which
the Red Rose was trodden under the hoofs of King Edward's charger,
none was destined to a more wretched fate than the conqueror's own
brother-in-law, Henry, Duke of Exeter. The career of this chief of
the family of Holland, from his cradle to his grave, forms a most
melancholy chapter in the annals of the period.
The Hollands were somewhat inferior in origin to most of the great
barons who fought in the Wars of the Roses. The founder of the house
was a poor knight, who, from being secretary to an Earl of Lancaster,
rose to some post of importance. His grandson, happening to hold the
office of steward of the household to an Earl of Salisbury, contrived
to espouse Joan Plantagenet, daughter of the Earl of Kent; and when
that lady, known as "The Fair Maid of Kent," after figuring as a
widow, became wife of "The Black Prince," the fortunes of the Hollands
rose rapidly. One flourished as Earl of Kent; another was created
Duke of Surrey; and a third, having been gifted with the earldom
of Huntingdon, became Duke of Exeter and husband of Elizabeth of
Lancaster, John of Gaunt's second daughter.
Notwithstanding his Lancastrian alliance, the first Duke of Exeter
remained faithful to Richard in 1399, and, consequently, lost his head
soon after that sovereign's deposition. The son of the decapitated
nobleman, however, being nephew of the new king, was soon received into
favor by Henry of Lancaster, and appointed Constable of the Tower and
Lord High Admiral of England. At an early age he married a daughter of
Edmund, Earl Stafford; and on the 27th of June, 1430, their only son
was born in the Tower of London. On the same day he was carried to Cold
Harbor in the arms of the Countess Marshal, who conveyed him in a barge
to Westminster, where, in St. Stephen's Chapel, he was baptized by the
name of Henry.
Fortune seemed to smile on the heir of the Hollands. Could the future
have been foreseen, however, no young peasant, laboring in the fields
and struggling out of serfdom, would have envied the infant destined
to a career so miserable and a catastrophe so melancholy. The life
of Henry Holland opened brightly enough. At the age of seventeen he
succeeded his father as third Duke of Exeter and Lord High Admiral of
England, and espoused Anne Plantagenet, eldest daughter of the Duke of
York; and, at the time when the Roses were plucked, he appears to have
favored the Yorkist cause. A change, however, came over his fortunes
and his political sentiments.
Exeter had, in fact, chosen his party without due consideration,
and ere long he saw reason to change sides. Indeed, his place in
Parliaments and councils must have reminded the young duke that,
through his grandmother, he was of the blood of Lancaster; and to a
man of his rank flatterers would hardly be wanting to suggest the
probability of the course of events bringing the regal sceptre to his
hand. On arriving at years of discretion, Exeter changed the pale for
the purple rose, and, after the first battle of St. Albans, he was
under the necessity of flying to the sanctuary of Westminster. From
that place of security he was taken on some pretext, and sent as a
prisoner to Pontefract Castle.
When the political wind changed, Exeter recovered his liberty; and,
as time passed over, he fought for Margaret of Anjou in the battles
of Wakefield and Towton. After the rout of the Red Rose army on Palm
Sunday, 1461, he fled with Henry into Scotland; but in the autumn
of that year he was tempting fortune in Wales, and, in company with
Jasper Tudor, stood embattled at Tutehill, near Carnarvon, against
King Edward's forces. The Yorkists proving victorious, Exeter and his
comrade in arms were fain to make for the mountains, leaving the Welsh
Lancastrians no resource but to submit.
Exeter's biography now becomes obscure. The unfortunate duke can be
traced, however, lurking on the Scottish frontier, fighting at Hexham,
flying to a Northumbrian village, finding Margaret of Anjou in the
outlaw's cave, accompanying the Lancastrian queen into exile, and
wandering as a broken man on the Continent, while his duchess, in no
degree inclined to share such fortunes, enjoyed the estate of her
banished lord, lived at her brother's court, kept well with Elizabeth
Woodville, and ministered to that lady's maternal ambition by pledging
the hand of Exeter's heiress to the young Marquis of Dorset. When,
however, Warwick chased Edward of York from the kingdom, Exeter
appeared once more in England, and figured as one of the Lancastrian
leaders at Barnet.
The disgrace of abandoning "The Stout Earl" on the field where he was
laid low, Exeter did not share. As early as seven in the morning of
that Easter Sunday he was struck by an arrow, and left for dead on the
field. After remaining for nine hours, he was discovered still alive,
and carried to the house of one of his servants named Ruthland. A
surgeon having been found to dress the duke's wound, he was in such a
degree restored as to be conveyed to the sanctuary of Westminster.
At this point mystery again settles over Exeter's history. It appears,
however, that the ill-fated duke escaped to the Continent, and that the
duchess seized the opportunity to break the last link that bound her
to a husband so unfortunate. In November, 1472, nearly two years after
the battle of Barnet, the Plantagenet lady, at her own suit, procured
a divorce, and soon after married Sir Thomas St. Leger, Knight of the
Body to King Edward. The duchess survived this event for three years.
According to Sandford, she breathed her last in 1475; and "St. Leger
surviving her," says Dugdale, "in 21 Edward IV. founded a perpetual
chantry of two priests to celebrate divine service daily within the
Chapel of St. George in Windsor Castle." Exeter's only daughter, who
had been betrothed to the Marquis of Dorset, died before her mother,
and Elizabeth Woodville secured the heiress of Bonville as bride for
her son.
Meanwhile the plight of Exeter became deplorable, and in Flanders he
was reduced to absolute beggary. Comines relates that, on one occasion,
he saw the impoverished magnate running after the Duke of Burgundy, and
begging bread for GOD'S sake. In the hapless mendicant, in rags and
misery, Burgundy did not recognize the once proud chief of the house
of Holland--his cousin by blood and his brother-in-law by marriage.
On being afterward informed, however, that the ragged mendicant was
the banished Duke of Exeter, great-grandson of John of Gaunt, the king
of Portugal's kinsman and his own, and formerly Lord High Admiral of
England, owner of broad baronies, and husband of Anne Plantagenet,
Charles the Rash was touched, and induced to bestow on Exeter a pension
to save him from farther degradation.
Dugdale presumes that this scene occurred "after Barnet Field;" and,
if so, Burgundy's bounty was not long enjoyed by the unfortunate
recipient. Sometime in 1474 Exeter's earthly troubles ended. His body
was found floating in the sea between Dover and Calais, but how he came
by his death was never ascertained.
"In this year," says Fabyan, "was the Duke of Exeter found dead in the
sea, between Dover and Calais, but how he was drowned the certainty is
not known."