Some portions of this "delicately wrought fan-work" is still to be seen among the debris of sculpture remaining in the cloisters. Bishop Beauchamp was younger son of Walter Beauchamp (younger son of John, Lord Beauchamp of Powyke), by Elizabeth, daughter of Sir John Roche, and brother to William Beauchamp, Lord St. Amand. He is supposed to have been the first Chancellor of the Order of the Garter, was consecrated Bishop of Salisbury in 1450, afterward translated to Hereford; and died 1481.

The effigy of John, Lord Cheney, sculptured in alabaster, is of large size, and the costume is of most interesting military character. He appears clad in complete plate armour, with skirt and collar of mail, and armed with sword and miséricorde. The Garter is around the left leg, and he wears a large dependant collar of S.S., from which hangs, instead of the usual figure of St. George and the Dragon, an unique Tudor jewel, or badge, formed of a Portcullis, on which is super-imposed a Double Rose. Over the armour is the robe or mantle of the Order, fastened across the chest with cordon and tassels. On the left shoulder is embroidered the Garter. The head is bare, and the hair parted in the centre of the forehead, descends in large waves to the shoulders. The fingers and thumbs of both hands are adorned with rings, the feet rest on a lion, and behind the sole of the left foot is sculptured an oak leaf, on the right is apparently a scroll. Angels support the head.

The structure on which the effigy reclines is composed probably of no portion of the original tomb. It partly consists of traceried panels of Purbeck marble, having shields in their centres, on which were formerly brasses.

As has been observed, Lord Cheney was interred in the beautiful Chantry of his friend, Bishop Richard Beauchamp, which was situate on the north side of the Lady Chapel, opposite Lady Hungerford's. The Bishop, who died in 1481, was also buried within it, and according to Leland, with his father and mother on either side of him "in marble tumbes." Wyatt demolished the Chantry, and removed both Bishop and Knight to the nave, and during the confusion of the desecration, the Bishop's tomb appears to have been lost or mislaid, his bones now rest in some one else's, taken from one of the transepts, wherein no remains at all were found. The Knight's tomb, probably formed of Purbeck marble, was too far gone with decay to bear 'translation.'

"In the last repairs," says Dodsworth, "the effigy (Sir J. Cheney's) was removed, and as the original tomb was totally decayed, the present base was formed from part of the ornaments that belonged to the Beauchamp Chapel. His skeleton was found entire, and justified the fame of his extraordinary stature and strength. The thigh bone measured above twenty-one inches, or near four inches longer than the natural size. These bones were enclosed in a box, and entrusted to the care of the writer, until the tomb was replaced, when they were deposited within, and the name of the deceased, with the date of the removal, inscribed on the cover." The act of a true and reverential man.

The substituted tomb of Sir John Cheney's friend the Bishop, is on the other side of the nave.

The arms of Cheney (of Shurland) are recorded as, Argent, on a bend sable, three martlets or, quartering, Azure, five lioncels argent, a canton ermine,—or according to another authority, Azure, six lioncels, three, two, one, argent (Shurland). No arms are visible at Salisbury.

At the death of Lord Cheney, his property devolved to his nephew and heir, Sir Thomas Cheney, son of his brother Sir William Cheney.

The scene of our little history now shifts from the broad chalk downs of south Wilts, to the kindred chalk measures of south-west Bedfordshire, and for a short time intermediately to northern Kent, the original seat of the family of Cheney.

Sir Thomas Cheney, nephew and heir of John, Lord Cheney, K.G., married first Frideswide, daughter and coheiress of Sir Thomas Frowyke, knt., Chief Justice of the Court of Common Pleas. By her he had three daughters: Catherine married to Thomas Kemp, Esq., of Glendich, Kent; Frances, to Nicholas Crips, Esq., son and heir of Sir Henry Crips, knt.; Anne, to Sir John Perrot, knt.; and Margaret, to George Nevill, Lord Abergavenny. (Burke.)

Secondly, he married Anne, daughter and coheiress of Sir John Broughton, knight, of Toddington, Bedfordshire, by his wife Mary daughter and heiress of Thomas Peyvre, lord of the manor of Toddington, by whom he acquired the estate. By her he had one son Henry (afterward Lord Cheney), his successor.

Sir Thomas is described as having been "a person of great gallantry and note in the reign of Henry VIII., accompanied that monarch to the field of the Cloth of Gold, where he was one of the challengers against all gentlemen, who were to exercise feats of arms on horseback or on foot for thirty days."

He was created by Henry VIII. Knight of the Garter, Warden of the Cinque Ports, and Treasurer of the Household. Upon the death of Edward VI., he espoused the interests of Queen Mary, and was called to the Privy Council by Queen Elizabeth in the first year of her reign, which same year he died, 1558-9, and was buried at Minster in Kent.

Hasted (History of Kent) has the following notice of this Knight,—

Sir Henry Cheney, knt., his only son and heir, was of Toddington. He married Jane, daughter of Thomas Wentworth of Nettlested, Suffolk, created Baron Wentworth in 1529, and Lord Chamberlain of the Household to Edward VI.; by his wife Margaret, daughter of Sir Andrew Fortescue, knt.

Sir Henry was created by Queen Elizabeth BARON CHENEY OF TODDINGTON, by Writ of Summons dated 6 May, 1572, and had summons to Parliament from 8 May, 1572, to 15 October, 1586.

Hasted, speaking of this nobleman and his Kentish possessions, narrates,—

Lord Cheney was one of the peers who sat on the trial of Mary, Queen of Scots. He died without issue in 1587, leaving the whole of his remaining property to his widow. He erected a magnificent seat at Toddington, concerning which Lysons adds,—

Thus this fine edifice shared the fate of its predecessor erected by the Peyvres, from whom, through Broughton who married their heiress, Lord Cheney inherited the manor of Toddington, by marrying the heiress of Broughton.

From the dismantled earthly home of the extinct Cheneys to the final one appointed for all, is but the natural sequence of this world's history of human life. The olden possessors of Toddington, successively Peyvre, Broughton, and Cheney, are all gathered together in death, in the south transept of the church. Of them, and the fate of their memorials, a few words.

The Peyvres were an antient family, holding the manor of Toddington, as early as the reign of Henry III. Paulinus Peyvre, Steward of the Household to Henry III., was, says Lysons,—

So much for the grandeur of Paulinus Peyvre's mansion, and then the same authority significantly adds,—

Thus perished the mansion of the Peyvres, and it is curious to reflect, a like fate awaited the noble building erected by their successors the Cheneys. It was Mary, daughter of Thomas Peyvre, sixth in descent from Sir Paulinus, that brought the property to her husband Sir John Broughton, and his daughter and coheir Anne to Sir Thomas Cheney.

The Peyvres are buried in the south transept of Toddington church, which was antiently a Chantry, as there is a piscina in the south-east corner.

Continuing his description, Lysons (writing in 1806) thus speaks of the then shameful condition of the transepts and monuments of this fine old church,—

Notwithstanding the damage the Cheney monuments have sustained through this miserable neglect (they were buried in the same transept) the interesting memorials of the Peyvres have not suffered quite so badly. There are three effigies to them, and the indents on some brassless stones in the floor. One figure is a crusader, he is considerably mutilated, was originally a very fine example, on his shield are sculptured the arms of Peyvre,—On a chevron, three fleurs-de-lys. Under monumental arches in the south wall are, singly, two well-preserved and most interesting effigies. The knight in chain and plate armour, with bascinet. He wears a rich baudrick, and his surcoat is embroidered with the arms of Peyvre. A lion is at his feet, and angels support the head, holding with one hand an inscribed label which passes across the neck of the effigy under the chin, an unusual arrangement. The lady is in long robes, with rich reticulated head-dress. These figures being sheltered by the arches over them, have not suffered so much by exposure to the weather as did the unprotected effigies of the Cheneys.

It should be mentioned that the transepts have of late for a long period been roofed and restored, and the remains of the monuments carefully got together and looked after.

Sir Thomas Cheney, K.G., who married Anne Broughton of Toddington, appears to have been buried as before mentioned in Minster church, in the Isle of Sheppey, Kent, where he held the manor of Shurland, as descendant of that family.

In Minster church, says Weever,—

He then gives the following inscription,—

and continues,—

Among these "great personages" three of the Cheneys followed each other as Constables,—Sir William, as thirteenth; Sir Francis, as fourteenth; and Sir Thomas aforesaid, as fifteenth, in their succession.

The three effigies of the Cheneys in the south transept, formerly a Chantry of Toddington church, are ranged facing the east wall, on the site of the antient altar. The remaining portions of the tombs have been built together to the shape of the originals, as near as may be, and the mutilated figures laid on them.

The first of the series from the south wall is Dame Anne Cheney, wife of Sir Thomas Cheney, K.G., buried at Minster, and daughter of Sir John Broughton. She survived her husband two years, and was buried at Toddington.

The effigy, of white stone, is greatly denuded,—she wears a close-fitting cap, small ruff, long gown buttoned down in front, collar edged with fur, full sleeves puffed and slashed at the shoulders. The head rests on two embroidered cushions, the hands are raised in prayer.

Underneath, on each side are three panels, in one is a crest, apparently a squirrel sejant cracking a nut (Broughton?)—the others have blank matrices of shields, surrounded by scroll-work. The brass shields which originally covered them are gone.

Around the cornice of the tomb is this inscription,—

On the panel at the end of the tomb is an escutcheon with these arms,—Quarterly of fifteen:—1. A chevron between three mullets (Broughton).—2. Three moor's heads.—3. A chevron between three bird-bolts.—4. On a chevron, three fleurs-de-lys (Peyvre).—5. Quarterly, over all a bend.—6. Quarterly per fess indented.—7. A bend vaire between six escallops.—8. A saltire engrailed.—9. On a cross, five escallops.—10. Paly of six.—11. A barnacle.—12. A fess dancetté between six cross-crosslets.—13. A cross engrailed.—14. Two lions passant guardant.—15. On a chevron, a fleur-de-lys.

The next tomb in the succession is that of Sir Henry Cheney, son of the foregoing, created Baron Cheney of Toddington, 6 May, 1572.[29]

This tomb and effigy is by far the most mutilated of the three. The portion of the tomb immediately under the figure appears to have had originally the form of a sarcophagus, with ornamented panels probably below.

Of the effigy only the upper part remains, and this is very much denuded and weather-worn. The material used is alabaster, and from the few traces left of the more sheltered portions, was originally of very beautiful workmanship, heightened with gold. He was clad in armour, embroidered trunk-hose, and with collar turned out over the mentonnière; the head bare, with curled hair and beard, and the hands raised in prayer. He lies on a mattress, rolled up under the head, which rests on an embroidered cushion laid upon it.

It is grievous to witness the maltreatment and neglect this fine memorial has received, and no trace of inscription or heraldry remains.

The third is the tomb of his wife, Dame Jane Cheney; this is in much the same condition as the first in the series.

The effigy, of alabaster, is headless and much weather-worn. She wears a robe with tippet edged with fur, long gown and waistband. The head rested on two embroidered cushions. The figure was of fine workmanship, similar in character to her husband's.

The tomb below has panels with arabesques, and in their centres shields, originally covered with brasses. On the end panel, under the head, is this inscription,—

Before we quit the sacred precincts of the old edifice, our steps take us to the chancel, and in scanning the memorials around, are arrested awhile by the record of an interesting but sad episode of home life, occurring during the last days of the residence of the Cheneys in their grand home at Toddington. A small tablet on the south side of the altar,—despoiled apparently, like the tombs in the transept, of its ornamental accessories,—still speaks to us this tribute of sisterly affection,—

IN MEMORIAM FRATRIS POSUIT-SOROR ALISIA BRVS
AMORIS ERGO.

GYLIS BRVSE ESQR YONGEST SON'E TO S^R. JOHN BRVSE OF WENHAM IN SUFF' KNYGHT WHO COM'INGE TO TODDYNGTO' TO VISYTE HIS SYSTER ALICE BRVSE THEN ATTENDING ON YE RIGHT HO' YE LADYE CHEYNE THERE DYED YE 13 OF MARCH 1595 AND WAS BY HIS SAYDE SYSTER HERE INTOMBED YE 14 OF MARCH REGNO REGINÆ ELIZAB: 38 ÆTATIS SUÆ 33.

As our stranger-foot turns to depart, the suggestive reflection crosses the thoughts concerning the untoward fate of the vanished Cheneys,—their name extinct, their sumptuous habitation razed to the ground, and their costly memorials also subjected to almost unparalleled indignity, neglect, and injury, short of actual destruction,—can the well-worn but true adage, sic transit gloria mundi, ever have received ampler verification?

But why should such striking collapse of this world's artificial grandeur sadden the mind that rejoices in the unobtrusive station, and simple unenvied delights—ever the best—of every-day life? In truth it does not; as we pass out into the pleasant daylight, the olden opulence and state of the departed Cheneys fades into the past as a dream, for a much more healthful sight is before us. To-day is the little rural town's holiday, and its inhabitants are enjoying themselves with unrestrained pleasure, while the fine peal of bells in the tower is also adding melodious tribute to the passing hour. Their delightful cadence follows our retreating steps for a long distance, and as their sweet sound dies to the outward ear, our walk continues to be beguiled with this vagrant inward echo to their

DISTANT CHIMES.

Thus ends our visit to what was once the grand earthly home and possessions of 'the extravagant Lord Cheney'—one more strange, but not altogether uncommon phase of human life. How many of these historic apparitions have crossed the path of our desultory wanderings over the west-country, flashing like meteors through the gloom of the past, when summoned by the wizard hand of research, and as quickly fading and disappearing when its sympathetic power is withdrawn. In the glance of their happier, or more fortunate, transitory radiance, may shine the pre-eminent glory of the crown, the mild lustre of the mitre, the bold glow of the rod of office, or brilliant flash of the sword; yet thickly interspersed albeit with the lurid gleam of the axe, and perchance, as to-day, with the pitiful, hasty flicker of the spendthrift.

So do the glimpses of these noted actors on the passing stage of human existence, and the memories of their short but eventful careers, come back to us, with intensely interesting, because real power, alongside which the strongest flight of Romance is as a phantom. He who affects to contemn such investigations, and lives only in and for the present,—ignorant, careless, or indifferent as to the past, and bent on enjoying, as it is termed, the passing hour,—little wots of the care, the pain, and the strife, through which those who have gone before, have fought and toiled and suffered;—lives but half a life, in itself barren and ephemeral, as it is disassociated from all that has preceded it and built the foundations of that life up. Whether for good or for evil, matters not, the continuity of influence cannot be dissevered, for

"In to-day already walks to-morrow."

From Toddington and our musing over his collateral descendants, our story finally leads us back to the giant Knight himself, and the solemn grandeur of Salisbury Cathedral. We take a final look at the armoured form of this son of Anak, and as we glance at the lines of recumbent forms,—ecclesiastics,—statesmen,—soldiers, and others, that held high place during their lives in the government of their native land, for the five or six eventful centuries, in which, through much contention, that government was slowly determining and settling,—the thought arises, how comprehensively this grand building, as a sheep-fold, whose door is the Gate of Death, hath silently and surely gathered together here these erstwhile great ones of the earth at last,—even all sorts and conditions of men,—the consecrated, the peaceful, the devoted, rest side by side with the ambitious, the restless, the proud,—

"They live with God, their homes are dust;
But here their children pray."

To the assing wayfarer the glowing desires and anxious longings, that animated their lives, are now well-nigh forgotten or unknown, and have vanished in the past as a tale that is told,—"in the sight of the unwise they seemed to die, but they are in peace," even the peace that passeth all understanding.

BOSWORTH FIELD.

INDENT OF THE BRASS OF ARCHBISHOP STAFFORD.
Canterbury Cathedral
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"WITH THE SILVER HAND."

A warm sunny morning in early May, and turning our steps from the thriving and somewhat busy town of Trowbridge,—a place which, like its quieter sister of Westbury, "stondith mostly by clothiers,"—its forest of smoking chimneys, garish town-hall, and tall spire,—our path inclines by the broad south-westerly road that leads to Frome and the parts adjacent. The walk is pleasant enough in its way, but without special incident to interest the wayfarer, beyond the ordinary pedestrian and vehicular motion of the hour.

In this direction we continue for about a mile and a half, and having passed through the village of Studley, halt at a stile or gateway on our left, and looking across a meadow of some extent, discern, environed by orchards, the grey outline of a building, having the unmistakable time-worn appearance of survival from a former age, albeit not of large size, and flanked with clustering outbuildings, that betoken its present inmate to be engaged in the great primeval occupation.

Instinctively—from a memory sympathetically stored—a reverie for the moment takes possession of the thoughts, as at the sight of the unpretending structure, a large picture passes rapidly before the mental eye, and with measured emphasis we observe,—a mother unknown,—a son the most famous,—their last descendant the most unfortunate!

Why—friend of mine—say you, do we propound this enigmatic commentary as we view the old place? Gives it short clue to characters, presumably, once connected with it, whose lives have embodied striking phases of human existence, which whet the imagination to contemplate, and to divine with all its subtle ingenuity, incidents conformable to animate them?

Listen. Yonder is Suthwyke;—there, back in the middle of the fourteenth century, a scion of the great family of Stafford of mediæval fame, found his way from the county that gave them their patronymic, and he, marrying the daughter of its then possessor, settled himself within it, and became its lord and master.

Around its grey walls, so retiring and unpretentious, cluster traditions of the first importance, that lead us out into the great field of national history. From the first of this knightly race that then dwelled therein, by a mother unknown,—who may have been the comely daughter of some villain residing near,—issued a son, who, despite all the contumely of his birth, won the mitre of the adjoining See, rose to the supreme station of being the custodian of the nation's purse, the keeper of the conscience of its reigning King, and finally sat on the archiepiscopal throne of the realm, when the Church was in her best estate. Of his grandson, styled of this place, who, deputed to maintain the royal prerogative against plebeian agression, fell fighting under the fierce onslaught of Wat Tyler in distant Kent. Again, of his son, who rising high in the favour of his Sovereign, was by him dignified with a patent of nobility named after his heritage in this rural spot, with honours further increased; but who, meanly swerving by ingratitude and petty dudgeon, in the first service imposed on him by the monarch who had so recently honoured him,—to the confusion of his royal patron,—was by the same kingly hand, as suddenly and ignominiously extinguished, and with him perished also the name and race of the family, of which he was its last representative.

So we deliver the solution to our parable, as we leisurely cross the broad meadow, but as we draw near the house, or Court as it is termed,—our foot is abruptly stayed by a comparatively invisible—until we are close on its edge—but decisive hindrance to nearer approach, and indicative at once of the olden character of the habitation, a deep and wide moat, still well supplied with water, that surrounds the area on which the house stands. But no mail-clad warrior, with glance of lance and pennon, salutes us, no wimpled lady passes like a shadow around the old gable corners,—all the signs of life visible are a bevy of ducks busily disporting themselves in the water below, and a group of calves on the opposite brink, thrusting their dappled faces through the bars of the fence, and calling lustily to their foster-mother, the dairy-maid, to bring them their accustomed meal.

A short distance below, a friendly stone bridge reveals itself, which spans the chasm, and leads to a building,—that probably still perpetuates in form and size the antient gate-house,—with a large semi-circular-arched, and somewhat ornamented doorway, ghost of the original portal, with its attendant portcullis and drawbridge.

We cross the bridge, but observe at a glance that it is doubtful if any traces of the dwelling of the Stafford dynasty, or their immediate successors, will be found in or upon it, and such proved to be the case. The building is of moderate size, bears the characteristics of having been erected early in the seventeenth century, and these distinguishing features, with the exception of the mullioned windows, a rather fine balustraded and newelled staircase, and the appearance of an old nail-studded door here and there,—have been nearly obliterated by adaptation to modern requirements. No dates were visible, two panels over the entrances may contain such, but they are carefully plastered over.

Suthwyck—Suthwyk—Southwyke, now modernized to Southwick Court, is apparently built on the antient site, and probably very nearly represents the original size of the building. A domestic chapel was attached to the little mansion. This was situate a short distance from it, on the other side of the moat; it now forms the corner of the farm court, and was converted, about the year 1839, into a stable. No trace of ecclesiastical use is found within it, but a few of the old roof-timbers are discernible; the piscina, windows, &c., being doubtless removed when it underwent the process of conversion.

"In Southwick, a tything of North-Bradley," says Canon Jackson,—

At the dissolution of Chantries in the reign of Henry VIII., Southwyke, Grenefreds (Grenvylles) Chantry, as it was called, was reported by the Commissioners "Baltazar Segytte, incumbent, with six pounds seven shillings a year. The plate weighed eight ounces one pennyweight, and the goods were valued at nine shillings, whilst eight and fourpence was allowed for a bell."

Suthwyke Court, and manor passed by successive heiresses through the families of Greynville, Stafford, Cheney, and Willoughby. About 1483, during a temporary forfeiture, it was given by Richard III. to his favourite Ratcliffe; it was however restored, and about 1520 sold by Robert, second Lord Willoughby de Broke to Sir David Owen, a supposed son of Owen Tudor, who in his will, dated 1529, mentions this Manor and Chantry. It was afterward disposed of in parcels, but the Court, by descent, is now held by the old Wiltshire family of Long of Rood-Ashton.

Of its former possessors, a few words.

Sir John Stafford, knt., of Amelcote and Bromshull, Staffordshire, who was living in 1361, married as his second wife the Lady Margaret, daughter of Sir Ralph Stafford, K.G., and one of the original founders of that Order, second Baron Stafford, and who was subsequently raised to the Earldom 5 March, 1351, and died in 1372; by his wife Margaret, only daughter and heiress of Hugh de Audley, Baron Audley.[30] He had issue by this marriage a son and heir named Humphrey.

This son, Sir Humphrey, migrated into Wilts, and married first Alice, daughter and heir of John de Greynville, the then possessor of Suthwyke. By her he "acquired a large estate, viz., the manor, mansion house, and patronage of the Church of St. John Baptist thereto annexed of Suthwyke juxta Frome-Selwood, in the parish of North-Bradley, Wilts,—the manors and advowsons of Clutton and Farnburgh, Somerset, and the manor of Burmington, Warwick," and she was married to Sir Humphrey before 1365. Her father bore for his arms, Argent, six lioncels rampant gules. By her husband Sir Humphrey, she had a son Humphrey, who became her heir. Sir Humphrey married secondly, Elizabeth, second daughter of Sir William d'Aumarle of Woodbury, Devon, who died 15 November, 1362, and widow of Sir John Maltravers of Hooke, in Dorset, who died 15 June, 1386, and whose arms were, Sable, a fret or. She had no children by Sir Humphrey, but two daughters by her first husband; Maud, married first to Peter de la Mare, of Offelegh, Herts, who died about 1395, and secondly to Sir John Dinham, of Buckland-Dinham, Somerset, who died about 1428;[31] and Elizabeth, married to her second husband's only son. He was sheriff of Dorset and Somerset 12 Henry IV., 1411.

Elizabeth, the second wife of Sir Humphrey died the 15 Oct., 1413, and the knight himself survived her sixteen days only, dying on the 31 Oct., 1413, and both were buried beside her first husband, Sir John Maltravers, in the Abbey Church of Abbotsbury. He was the first of his line that bore for his arms, Or, a chevron gules within a bordure engrailed sable.

All the foregoing coats of arms including also D'Aumarle, Per fess gules and azure, three crescents argent, are found among the heraldic display on the tomb of their descendant the Lady Elizabeth Willoughby-Greville at Alcester.

Sir Humphrey Stafford—only child of the foregoing—was of Suthwyke in right of his mother, and of Hooke, jure uxoris. He was surnamed "with the Silver Hand,"—a 'periphrasis' whose meaning has not been explained,—and married Elizabeth, the second daughter of his father's second wife, by her first husband Sir John Maltravers. By her he had three sons, Richard, John, and William, and one daughter Alice.