Yorkshire Family Romance

Prince Malcolm observes—

To which Siward replies—

Henry of Huntingdon, speaking of Siward's death, says—"And so he passed away, as he believed, to Valhalla, to rejoin the great warriors of his race who had gone before," seeming to intimate, founded on the misconception of his identity with the Viking Siward-Barn, that he died in the old Scandinavian faith of Woden, which was not true, as he lived and died a Christian, such as Christians were then. He is supposed to have founded a church in York, dedicated to St. Olaf, the martyred King of Norway, and connected with it a fraternity of monks, the name of which, in the reign of William II., was changed into that of St. Mary the Virgin, and eventually became the famous and wealthy abbey of after-times, with a mitred abbot. The ruins may now be seen in the grounds of the Museum.

He ruled his province with great firmness and some severity, necessary in his endeavours to curb the savage propensities of the people, and to establish a system of order and good government, and was bountiful to the Church, as some atonement, perhaps, for the crimes by which he rose to his high position.

Shortly after his return from his Scottish expedition, he was stricken with dysentery, which rapidly grew worse, and he lay in his vice-regal mansion at York without hope of recovery. When he felt his last moments approaching he suddenly started up from his couch and exclaimed, "Let me not die the death of a cow! If it be not my fate to die gloriously on the field of battle, as my brave boy, Osbert, has done, with all his wounds in front, at least let me die in the guise of a warrior. Don me my harness, place the helmet on my head, and gird my sword on my thigh. It were a shame and disgrace that I, who have faced death in so many fields, should die ignominiously in bed. Bring forth my battle-axe and shield, and place them by my side, that the ghosts of my warlike ancestry, who are looking down upon me now, may see me pass away from earth to join them in their everlasting home, with the semblance of the great warrior that I have been." And thus, seated on a chair, clothed in his armour, and supported in an upright posture by his attendants, he gave up the ghost, and was buried in his church of St. Olaf.

His son, Waltheof, being too young for the government of so important a province, it was given to Tosti, son of Earl Godwine, and brother of Harold, the future King; whilst Waltheof succeeded to the Earldoms of Huntingdon and Northampton, and eventually to that of Northumbria.

Phases in the Life of a Political Martyr.

IN the year 1055, there was a funeral in the Church of St. Olaf, York. The corpse was conveyed through the streets of the city with great barbaric splendour and pomp. The procession, consisting of stalwart and bronzed warriors, was strikingly illustrative of the dead hero. Swords flashed in the sun; armour, pikes, and battle-axes glittered; and captured pennons, with other trophies of war, were borne along in triumph. Although all these warriors were mourners, the chief, and, indeed, the only one of the blood who followed, was a stripling of fifteen, young in years, but displaying muscular proportions, a military bearing, and features betokening valour, determination of purpose, and invincible resolution in the accomplishment of his will. The warrior was laid in his tomb with all due ceremonial, the priests closed their books, the soldiers who had followed him to many a battlefield, gathered round the open grave to take a last look at his coffin, and then dispersed, whilst the young mourner returned to the vice-regal castle, which now seemed so solitary and desolate without the sound of his father's voice. The defunct warrior was stout old Siward, the Northumbrian Earl, who had scorned "to die the death of a cow," and the mourner who followed his remains was his sole surviving son, Waltheof; his elder son, Osbert, having been slain in battle. Eadward the Confessor was then King, and he, deeming Waltheof too young and inexperienced to rule so ungovernable a people as the Northumbrians, appointed Tosti, a younger son of Earl Godwine, and brother to Harold, afterwards King, to the Earldom. Tosti, however, ruled the people with such intolerable cruelty and oppression that the people of York broke into his mansion, plundered it, and murdered his house-carles; they then assembled in a folkgemôte and formally deposed him, electing Morkere of Mercia in his room. This was an illegal act, but the King, when he heard the circumstances of the case, confirmed it, as did also the Witan-Gemôte of Westminster. Morkere constituted Osulf, Waltheof's uncle, his deputy in Bernicia, on whose death he was succeeded by his brother, Gospatric.

John of Peterborough says that Waltheof was given the Earldoms of Huntingdon and Northampton at his father's death; but as these were held by Tosti, the probability seems to be that he succeeded on the deposition of that Earl. Simeon of Durham says that he governed Bernicia as his father's deputy, but this seems improbable on account of his age, and is not confirmed by other authorities. On the accession of Harold, Tosti, in conjunction with Harold Hardrada, invaded Northumbria, but were defeated by Harold at Stamford Bridge. It was, however, the cause of the ruin of Harold, who, whilst banquetting at York in celebration of his victory, had news brought him that Duke William of Normandy had landed in Sussex, and he had to lead his army by forced marches to the south, arriving in the front of the fresh Norman troops footsore and wearied, and with the loss of many who had fallen out of the ranks during the march; the result being his defeat and death, which might have been otherwise but for this fatal expedition to York. The brother Earls, Morkere of Northumbria and Eadwine of Mercia, and Waltheof undertook to bring bodies of soldiers to his aid, but the former two stood aloof, from politic motives; but Waltheof sent his contingent, if he were not present at the battle himself, which is uncertain.

Duke William was now King of England. London, with the south and east, had submitted at once, but it cost him some efforts to subjugate the west, and still more the north. He did, however, eventually make himself master of Yorkshire and the northern counties, built a castle at York, and placed therein William Malet as military governor of the city. The year after his accession, he found it necessary to visit his Norman Dukedom, when, fearing to leave behind him men so powerful, and whom he suspected of disaffection, he courteously invited Earls Eadwine, Morkere, and Waltheof, to accompany him as guests, who complied with his request, although they were perfectly aware that they were going as hostages for the good behaviour of their people during his absence. Soon after their return, the three Earls, under Earl Gospatric, made a demonstration in the north in favour of Eadgar, the Atheling, but were defeated, and fled to the court of Malcolm, in Scotland. William sent a herald to demand the fugitives, but the King declined giving them up.

In the year 1069, a Danish fleet of 240 vessels might be seen sailing up the Humber and Ouse. It was under the command of the Danish Princes Harold and Cnut, and had been joined at sea by a Scottish fleet under Gospatric and Waltheof. This formidable force landed near York, and entered the city amid the acclamations of the citizens. Malet was shut up in the Castle with a body of Norman troops, and had boastingly written to the King that he wanted no help, for he could hold it till domesday. Around the Castle walls were several houses, which Malet ordered to be fired, that they might not afford shelter to the enemy, but the fire spread further than he intended, consuming the greater portion of the city, the Cathedral, and Archbishop Egbert's magnificent library. It was whilst the flames were rising up with terrific grandeur from the Cathedral towers, and the houses were all ablaze or in ashes, that the confederates made their grand attack, captured the citadel, and put the garrison to the sword. Waltheof performed prodigies of valour. It is recorded of him in a Danish saga—"The great Earl, with mighty arm and sinewy breast, stood by the gate of York (Castle) as the Normans came forth, their heads falling to the earth in succession beneath his battle-axe." Waltheof was appointed Governor of York, the English and Scots garrisoning it, whilst the Danes, in their ships, occupied the Trent and Ouse, to check the advance of William and his army.

It was not long before the King made his appearance before York and demanded its surrender.

Waltheof replied, "Take it if you can, for assuredly I will not surrender it while life lasts." The King then bribed the Danes to withdraw, by a large sum of money and permission to ravage the northern coasts, and invested the city. A breach was made in the walls, and William of Malmesbury says—"Waltheof, a man of great muscular strength and courage, stood in the breach, and killed a great number of Normans who attempted to enter." He states, also, that a battle was fought outside the walls, and that Waltheof was the victor. The siege lasted six months, and the city was reduced at last by famine, after which the King committed the horrible crime of laying waste the country from York to Durham so effectually that for nine years neither spade nor plough was put in the ground, and the miserable survivors who escaped his sword were compelled to eat the most loathsome food to sustain life.

Gospatric, Earl of Northumbria, and Waltheof fled to Scotland, but afterwards tendered their submission to the King, the latter in person, the other by proxy. Waltheof was a man of immense power and influence as Lord of Hallamshire, Malton, and many another broad manor in Yorkshire and other counties, and was, besides, a skilful warrior and brave soldier, and the King, admiring his qualities, longed to win him over as his liege man. He therefore pardoned him, restored him to his Earldoms, and added thereto that of Northumbria, from which he had deposed Gospatric. Moreover, he gave him in marriage his niece, Judith, daughter of Eudes, Earl of Champagne, thinking thus to make sure of his loyalty.

Soon after he entered upon his new Earldom he committed a crime which is a blot upon his name, but which was considered justifiable in that age. A deadly feud existed between the descendants of Ughtred and those of one Thorbrand of York. Thorbrand was the enemy of the father of the second wife of Ughtred, who only obtained her hand by undertaking to kill him, but was murdered himself by Thorbrand. Earl Ealdred then, in retaliation, assassinated Thorbrand, and was in turn killed by Carl, son of Thorbrand, and a series of murders followed, which were completed by a wholesale massacre of the sons of Carl by Waltheof, when they were feasting at the house of their elder brother at Settrington, two only escaping.

There was a great feast in the eastern counties to celebrate the marriage of Ralph, Earl of Suffolk, with Emma, daughter of Roger, son of William, Earl of Hereford, and Waltheof was one of the guests. This marriage had been prohibited by the King, who was now in Normandy, and advantage was taken of his absence to consummate it, which was, in the eye of the law, a treasonable act. After the dinner, the conversation turned upon the tyranny of King William, and, as the guests became heated with wine, they framed a plot to depose him, and place one of themselves as King in his room, the rest to be his proximate peers. Waltheof is said to have taken the oath on compulsion, but the following morning repented of having done so, and went to Archbishop Lanfrane for absolution, who advised him to go to the King, explain the matter, and implore his pardon. He had, however, foolishly mentioned it to his wife Judith, who, wishing to get rid of "the Saxon churl" and marry a Norman, sent an exaggerated account of the conspiracy to her uncle, with the intimation that her husband was most deeply implicated in it. Waltheof went to Normandy, revealed the plot to the King, and asked his forgiveness for the part he had been compelled to take in it, who assured him of pardon, and they returned to England together.

The King, however, who had now for some time looked upon Waltheof as too powerful for a subject, thought this a favourable opportunity to get rid of him, and when he arrived in England, committed him to prison at Winchester. He then caused him to be arraigned at the Pentecostal gemôte, on a charge of treasonable conspiracy, and he was condemned to death. A few days after he was brought out into the market-place at Winchester, and there beheaded; the first instance, says Kennett, of decapitation in England. Ingulphus says that Judith might have saved him, but she desired his death that she might marry again, and afterwards experienced feelings of remorse for her cruelty. She subsequently fell into disgrace with her uncle for refusing to marry one who was lame. Her name appears in Domesday Book as Lady of the Manors of Hallam, Sheffield, and Attercliffe.

By his wife Judith he had issue, three daughters, co-heiresses—Matilda, who married first Simon de St. Liz, and secondly, David I., King of Scotland, thus conveying the Earldom of Huntingdon to the Scottish Royal Family; Alice, who married Richard Fitz Gilbert, whose granddaughter and heiress married Richard Fitz Ooth, from whom was Robert Fitz Ooth, who claimed the Earldom of Huntingdon on the failure of the Scottish male line, and who is generally supposed to be identical with the outlaw Robin Hood; and Judith, who married first Ralph de Toney, secondly Robert, son of Richard de Tonbridge, from whom descended the Barons and Earls Fitzwalter, the Earldom becoming extinct, and the Barony falling in abeyance in 1753, the latter being called out in 1868, in the person of Sir Brook William Brydges, fifth Baronet of, County Kent.

The Murderer's Bride.

IT was on a beautiful evening in June, when the thirteenth century was but a few years old, and when John wore the crown of England, that a girl of some twenty summers was seated in a vaulted room of a ruinous old Saxon castle, surrounded by her bower-maidens, chattering and laughing, and busily employed on some embroidery work. The castle stood on a slight eminence, some three or four miles from the sea-coast of Yorkshire, and commanding a glorious view of the uplands of Cleveland, the wide expanse of ocean, the only recently completed towers of St. Hilda's Abbey, as they stood proudly on the beetling cliff, and the clustering of fishermen's huts on the margin of the bay below, then called the village of Presteby, formerly Streoneshalh, and now Whitby. It had been built by the half-mythical Saxon noble, Wada, as a defence against the marauding Picts, who came over the border, and more particularly against the Danish Vikings, who were wont to land at Flamborough, and harry the land. In the year 867, they had destroyed the Lady Hilda's monastery, and it lay in ruins until after the Conquest, when it was re-built and re-endowed by William de Percy, ancestor of the potent Earls of Northumberland, and about half a century before the period of our narrative, it had been again pillaged and the country laid waste by a Norwegian fleet. But, amid all these storms, the old castle built by Wada held its own, although it now showed in its features the ravages of time and the marks of the batterings it had undergone from the hands of a succession of foes, in the shape of fallen towers, crumbling walls, and decayed battlements. After the Conquest, the castle and barony were granted by the King to Nigel Fossard, a soldier who had fought for him at Hastings, and from whose family it passed, after two or three generations, to Robert de Turnham, by marriage with Johanna, heiress of the Fossards. They were now dead, and slept side by side within the sacred precincts of St. Hilda, having left an only child—Isabel—as heiress, and now mistress of the ruined old fortress, and the domain of pasture and moorland lying round it; the same fair girl whom we find seated at her embroidery frame. The apartment in which the youthful group were assembled was the Lady Isabel's bower, very different, however, from a modern boudoir, being of the usual Saxon type. The walls and vaulted roof were of roughly-hewn stone, with a low, stunted column in the centre, and rounded arches, slightly decorated with a zigzag ornamentation, and on one side was an unglazed opening to admit the light, more like a loophole than a window. On the walls, suspended from tenter-hooks, were arras, picturing the miracles of St. Hilda, which served to give some semblance of comfort and cheerfulness to the room; and the other furniture consisted of a table, or board resting on two trestles, and half a dozen cross-legged stools.

Sounds of merriment and laughter echoed from the roof, as the maidens plied their needles, the buoyancy of their youthful spirits, and the outlook into what appears like a fairyland of the future, imparting a sunshine which is the happy privilege of youth, but is denied to more mature age. Yet, in the midst of all this joyous mirth, Isabel occasionally sighed, as disquieting thoughts passed through her mind. She was left in an unprotected solitude, and although the good Abbot of St. Hilda's had been her father's friend, and had promised him on his death-bed to watch over her and aid her by his counsel, he could not supply the place of father and mother, of whom she had been bereft, or of sister or brother, a companionship she had never experienced. She had already begun to taste the cares and anxieties of her position, and looked forward with some degree of apprehension, having learnt that the King, as absolute lord of the soil of England, had the right and power to dispose of the hands of heiresses of any portion of that soil which was only held of him by baronial or knightly tenure.

"The sun goes down apace," said Isabel, rising and going to look forth from the window, "fold up the altar-cloth, we shall have time to complete the embroidery before the obit of St. Hilda." She gazed out upon the sea, sparkling with the glitter of the setting sun, and looked upon the abbey tower on the cliff, still radiant with brightness—an out-post, as it seemed to her, of the realms of heaven, and she felt a peaceful calm steal over her mind. Suddenly her eyes gleamed with joy, and her heart began to throb with passionate gladness. These emotions were awakened by the sight of a youth of noble bearing, pacing with rapid steps the road leading to the castle. This youth was Jasper de Percy, a scion of the afterwards illustrious house of that name. He had long been affianced to Isabel, with the consent and full approbation of their parents, and they loved each other dearly and passionately. It was not long ere he was ushered into her presence by the old seneschal of the castle, but with their soft whisperings we have nothing to do, save that we know they consisted of protestations of eternal love and anticipations of a happy future. Whilst they were together the sun went down, and, as the bell of compline rang out sweetly over the water, they knelt together and uttered their evening prayer to the Holy Virgin, after which he departed.

"Pax vobiscum!" said the Abbot, as he entered the room soon after, "how fares it with my daughter?" She replied that she was well in health, but somewhat disquieted in soul, and told him what she had heard about the King having the disposal of the hands of heiresses, and asking him if it were so. He explained the law to her, and knowing and approving of her love for young Percy, expressed a hope that His Majesty would not interfere in her case, but, added he, "King John is a bad man, unscrupulous in his actions, and an arch-heretic, even to the defying of the Holy Father at Rome—the Vicegerent of God upon earth, saying that he will allow no foreign priest to meddle in his dominion." After some further conversation, Isabel knelt at his feet, confessed her little faults, received absolution, and the Abbot returned to St. Hilda's. So the days and weeks went on in their usual routine, with nothing to disturb their serenity, until at length a thunderbolt, as it were, fell suddenly in the midst of the little community, utterly destroying all their fond hopes of happiness.

The scene now changes to Normandy. King Henry II. of England had four sons, of whom William, the eldest, d.v.p., and Richard, the second, succeeded, who d.s.p. The third, Geoffrey, married Constance, daughter and heiress of Conan le Petit, Duke of Bretagne and Earl of Richmond, and had issue, Arthur, who was heir to the throne of England on the death of his uncle Richard, but, being absent in Brittany, John, fourth son of Henry, usurped the throne, and when Philip of France espoused the cause of Arthur, he invaded France with an army, to maintain the position he had assumed, and with the intention of removing the obstacle to his legal right to the throne. He captured his nephew, after patching up a peace with King Philip, and sent him to Falaise, with instructions to Hubert de Burgh to put his eyes out. Hubert, however, compassionated the boy, and saved him from that fate, upon which King John removed Arthur from his custody, and had him taken to Rouen, and placed in safe keeping. The midnight bell at St. Ouen had rung out over the Norman city, and, saving that, all was still in its tortuous streets, excepting the footsteps of three persons going down to the river-side. They went along stealthily, one of them, a boy, with seeming reluctance, and who appeared to be expostulating with the two men who urged him along. "I tell thee, boy," said he who was evidently the chief of the company, "that thou shalt be Duke of Bretagne and Earl of Richmond, and we are but taking thee to a place of safety wherein to abide until these untoward matters that agitate the realm of France can be arranged." "But my crown, the crown of England, my inheritance!" commenced the boy as they arrived at the water's side, when the two men forced him into a boat and pushed it off upon the Seine, and it glided down the river beyond the confines of the city. The leader of the party was King John, and the other his esquire, an ill-favoured bully, with an evil cast of the eye, a Poictevin by birth, and called, in derision, Peter de Malo-lacu, afterwards softened down to Maulac, and eventually to De Mauley. He was one of the tools and evil counsellors of John, and was ever ready to commit any crime provided he were well paid for it. Their companion was the boy Prince, Arthur. The night was dreary and murky, and the wind wailed a mournful cadence through the trees, well befitting the contemplated deed of blood. The boat had passed some distance down the river, and Arthur, fearing some foul design, was imploring his uncle to be taken back to Rouen, when the Poictevin, in reply to a signal from the King, suddenly plunged his dagger up to the hilt in the boy's breast, and at the same moment seized him by the legs, and pitched him over the side of the boat into the river, to pass down to the sea with the ebbing tide.

"'Twas well done," said John to his companion in guilt, "that obstacle to our ambition is removed for ever; and as for thee, Peter, thou shalt be great amongst the nobles of our realm. It will be hard if I cannot find an heiress lacking a husband, and thou shalt be a baron of England."

Again are we among the merry hills and dales of Cleveland. The summer has passed away, the leaves of autumn have fallen, the fierce blasts of the wintry winds of North Yorkshire have toned down into the gentle gales of spring, and a glad sunshine pervades land and sea. But there is wailing and lamentation within the walls of Wada's old castle, and saddened hearts beneath the shadow of St. Hilda's tower. The marriage of Isabel and Jasper had been arranged, and nothing was wanting for its consummation but the sanction of the King. A messenger had been despatched to the Court of John to obtain his consent, but he replied that it could not be, as he had other views in regard to the heiress, and purposed, by giving her hand to a brave warrior of Poictou, to raise her to a dignity far above anything ever attained by the Turnhams or the Fossards; in short, that he intended giving her in marriage to his friend and companion-in-arms, Peter de Maulac. Hence those tears and lamentations, as there was no resisting the King's will.

A few months, and there stood before the altar of St. Hilda, decorated with the embroidery from the deft fingers of Isabel and her bower-maidens, an ill-assorted couple. On the one side a forbidding-looking man, with a ferocious cast of countenance and an eye of ill omen; on the other, a gentle, delicate girl, of symmetrical figure and beautifully chiselled features, but pale as a corpse, and with eyes swollen and bloodshot with weeping. Nevertheless, it mattered not, the mandate of the King must be obeyed, and they became man and wife.

Peter de Mauley, as he now chose to style himself, thus became, by right of his wife, feudal lord of Isabel's demesnes, situated at Egton, Juby-Park-Houses, and Newbiggin, near Whitby; Mauley Cross, near Pickering; Bainton, near Driffield; Ellerton, near Pocklington; and Seaton, near Hornsea; but the King compelled him to pay for the livery of these estates a fine of 7,000 marks. He built a new castle near the old one, and called it, from the beauty of the situation, Moult-grace, but which the people, in consequence of his oppression, transformed, by the change of a single letter, into Moult-grave, since then corrupted into Mulgrave. He was a firm adherent of John in his troubles with the Pope and the Barons, and was rewarded for his services with other considerable grants of lands, the Sheriffdoms of Dorset and Somerset, and, under Henry III., with the Governorship of Sherborne Castle. He died in 1221, and the ill-fated Isabel pre-deceased him, whose body he buried in Meaux Abbey, near Beverley, giving with it a grant of land.

They had a son—Peter—who succeeded, who was followed by six other Peters in unbroken succession, all of whom enjoyed the estates, excepting the seventh, who died v.p. The fourth was created a baron by writ of summons in 1295; but Peter the eighth, fourth in the barony, dying without issue in 1415, the dignity fell in abeyance between his sisters and co-heiresses—Constance, who married, first, William Fairfax, secondly, Sir John Bigot, and who succeeded to Moult-grave, and Elizabeth, who married George Salvin. The title was revived in 1838, as a barony by patent, in the person of the Hon. W. F. Spencer Ponsonby, third son of the Earl of Bessborough, a descendant, through females, of Elizabeth Salvin; but the old barony by writ still lies in abeyance among the representatives of the above co-heiresses.

The death of Prince Arthur is still shrouded in mystery, the English chroniclers giving different versions of it, and Shakspeare representing him as being killed by a fall from the walls of his prison when attempting to escape; but the French historians, who are more likely to be correct, coincide in attributing it to the hand of Peter de Malo-lacu, in the presence of John, or even to that of the King himself.

The Earldom of Wiltes.

THE famous Yorkshire family of Le Scrope, or Scroop, is one of the most illustrious in the peerage roll of England; not, however, for the number and dignity of their titles, which only amounted to five of lesser rank, two of which are extinct, one dormant, and two in abeyance, but, for the many eminent and influential men sprung from the race, who have distinguished themselves in the State, at the King's Council table, in the Church, at the Bar, on the battlefield, and in the walks of literature. During three centuries, from Edward II. to Charles I., there have been of the Scropes—two Earls, twenty Barons, one Baronet, one Archbishop, four Bishops, one Lord Chancellor, four Lord Treasurers, five Knights of the Garter, several Knights Banneret, many Wardens of the Scottish Marches, three immortalised in the pages of Shakspeare, one, "Keen Lord Scrope," in the ballad of "Kinmont Willie," and another in the ballad of "Flodden Field."

They were originally of Normandy, and in the reign of William I., Osborne Fitz-Richard, their first English ancestor, held several manors in the Western counties. The first mention of them in connection with Yorkshire is in 1287, when they held eight carucates of land at Bolton, where they built Bolton Castle. They rose rapidly in importance, ramifying in various directions, mainly into two great branches, those of Masham and Bolton, subsequently having mansions and domains at Bolton Castle; Clifton Castle, Masham; Danby Hall, Middleham; Upsall Castle, Thirsk; Croft-on-the-Tees, Ellerton-upon-Swale, Spennithorne, and South Kilvington; and are now represented by a junior branch, seated at Danby-super-Yore.

Henry, seventh Baron Scrope, of Bolton, was one of the heroes of Flodden, whose valour is sung in the ballad of Flodden Field. John, eighth Baron, was implicated in the rebellion of the Pilgrimage of Grace, but escaped the death of a traitor. Henry, ninth Baron, had charge of Mary Queen of Scots, at Bolton. Henry, third Baron Scrope, of Masham, was executed for treason, as was also Richard Scrope, Archbishop of York.

The time in which Sir William Scrope, k.g., Earl of Wiltes, and King of the Isle of Man, lived, that of the reign of Richard II., was one of the most eventful in the history of England. Richard, son of the Black Prince, was born in 1367, and succeeded to the throne of his grandfather, Edward III., at ten years of age, in 1377, the government being vested in twelve councillors, his uncles being excluded therefrom. He displayed signs of vigour and ability during the insurrection under Wat Tyler and Jack Straw, when he met the rebels in Smithfield, on which occasion the former was killed by Lord Mayor Walworth; and in his invasion of Scotland, in 1385, when he penetrated as far as Aberdeen, and burnt Edinburgh, Perth, and Dundee; but afterwards he threw himself into the arms of favourites, which excited the jealousy of his uncles, when the Duke of Gloucester was chosen head of the Council, and the parliament, called "wonderful," summoned under his auspices, put two of his favourites to death, and confiscated the property of the rest. When he reached the age of twenty-two he threw off the trammels of guardianship, and for some time ruled his kingdom with justice, but he possessed not the necessary vigour to cope with the turbulent spirits by whom he was surrounded, and still permitted himself to be governed by favourites, of whom Sir William Scrope was one.

Sir William might almost be said to be born a courtier. His father, Richard, first Baron of Bolton; his uncle, Geoffrey, first Baron of Masham; and his maternal uncle, Michael de la Pole, son of a Hull merchant, and created Earl of Suffolk by Richard II., were all foremost men about the Court in military, diplomatic, legislative, judicial, and other capacities. His father was a statesman of rare talent, and resigned his chancellorship in 1380, in consequence of the anger of the young King at his protests against the lavish grants he made to his favourites. Pole, Earl of Suffolk, and De Vere, Duke of Ireland, with Brember, Mayor of London, and Tresilian, were the King's favourites in his early days, but in 1388, Gloucester and the confederated Barons attacked them, compelled the two former to take to flight, and put to death the two latter. After their dispersion, Sir William Scrope became one of the principal advisers and favourites of the King, who loaded him with honours and wealth. He was constituted Seneschal of Acquitaine in 1383; Governor of the town and castle of Cherbourg in 1385; and Governor of Queensborough Castle in the same year; was appointed Vice-Chamberlain of the Household in 1393, and Lord Chamberlain in 1395. He was sent as Ambassador to France to negotiate the marriage of the King, in 1395, and to treat for peace, in 1397. He was nominated Justicier of Chester, North Wales, and Flint, in 1397, and in the same year Surveyor of the Forests in Cheshire. In 1397, he was created Earl of Wiltes; the following year had charge of the castle of Guisnes; and in 1399, was appointed guardian of the realm during the absence of the King in Ireland. He was a faithful servant and attached friend to his master, and laid down his life in his service.

The causes of the deposition and death of Richard were his weak character and his obnoxious mode of government, through favourites and evil advisers, which were accelerated by the ambition and revenge of his cousin Henry, Duke of Hereford, son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster. The Duke of Hereford had a quarrel with Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, each accusing the other of treason, and the King consented that the matter should be decided by combat at Coventry, but when the lists were opened and the combatants mounted, lance in hand, ready to commence the fight, the King commanded them to desist, and arbitrarily condemned Norfolk to banishment from the realm for life, and Hereford for ten years, the latter being granted the privilege of taking possession, through his attorney, of any inheritances that might fall to him during his absence. Whilst he was abroad his father, the Duke of Lancaster, died, and the King, in violation of his promise, took possession of his widely-spread lands in Yorkshire and elsewhere, including Leeds, Kippax, Almondbury, and many another manor in the county. Henry, now Duke of Lancaster, had speedy intelligence of this from his attorney, and gathering a few followers together, took shipping for England, and landed at Ravenspurn, in Holderness, at the mouth of the Humber. His ostensible motive in coming to England, and perhaps his real intention, was simply to obtain possession of his inheritance, with, possibly, some vague ideas of vengeance for his banishment. But, as he passed through Yorkshire, he was joined by the Percies and other powerful families, who welcomed him back to England, and the people flocked round his standard, so that when he approached London he found himself at the head of a considerable army, and then he threw off his disguise, and proclaimed that he had come to deliver the kingdom from the evil advisers of the Crown. The King had gone to Ireland to subdue an insurrection, and had left the Earl of Wiltes as guardian of the realm, who, on hearing of the march of Lancaster towards London, fled, with others, to Bristol, hoping to join the King there on his return from Ireland. The Duke followed them thither, laid siege to the castle, "where at length," says Walsingham, "William le Scrope, John Busby, and Henry Grene, were taken prisoners, and they were forthwith, on the morrow, beheaded, at the outcry of the populace." The Duke had now fully resolved upon striking for the Crown, although he was not the legitimate heir, even if Richard were removed, and it was his usurpation which gave rise to the subsequent War of the Roses. In furtherance of his project, he considered it desirable to win over the citizens of London, and in order to conciliate those who were opposed to the favourites, and terrify those who were friendly to the King and his government, he sent thither the heads of Scrope, Busby, and Grene, in a basket, with a letter, in which he said—"I beg of you to let me know if you will be on my side or not, and I care not which, for I have people enough to fight all the world for one day. But take in good part the present I have sent you," etc. This produced the effect he wished for, as the Londoners at once espoused his cause. The King was soon after captured, sent to Pontefract Castle, and there murdered, after a formal deposition; and Henry, with the consent of Parliament, assumed the crown. He called a Parliament together, who, in the first year of his reign, passed an Act of Attainder and Confiscation against the Earl of Wiltes and other of Richard's friends; and it was assumed that the earldom thus became extinct, although legally it only became dormant, and presents one of the most curiously complicated and interesting cases that ever came before the Court of Heralds or the House of Lords, paralleled only, perhaps, in interest by the famous Scrope-Grosvenor heraldic dispute, between Sir Richard Scrope, the Earl's father, and Sir Robert Grosvenor, as to the right to bear "azure a bend or" on their shields of arms, in which 400 witnesses of the highest rank appeared in evidence.

The patent of the Earldom was thus made out:—"We, considering the probity, the wise and provident circumspection, and the illustriousness of manners and birth of our beloved and trusty William le Scrope, Chevalier, and willing deservedly to exalt him by the prerogative of honour, do create him in Parliament to be Earl of Wiltes; and do invest him with the style, name, and honour of the place aforesaid, by the girding of the sword, to have to him and his heirs-male for ever. And in order that the Earl and his heirs aforesaid, for the decency of so great a name and honour, may be the better and the more honourably able to support the burdens incumbent on the same, of our special grace we have given and granted, and by this charter confirm, to the Earl and his heirs aforesaid, £20 to be received every year out of the issues of the county of Wilton, by the hands of the sheriff of the county for ever." The patent was made out in this way, with remainder to his heirs-male, because, although married, he had no issue by whom it might descend lineally, and it would thus pass downward in the family through his collateral heirs, his brothers or their children. In 1859, Simon Thomas Scrope, of Danby, claimed the dormant Earldom, as heir-general of the grantee, on the ground that the attainder was invalid, and the case occupied the consideration of the House of Lords for ten years. In the first place, the question arose whether by "heirs-general," collateral descendants were meant, which was decided in the affirmative, and the claimant then proved to the satisfaction of the House that he was the heir-general. It was then contended that the attainder was invalid, as taking up arms in defence of a reigning Sovereign could not by any possibility be construed into treason; but, on the other hand, it was argued that the attainder was legal, as it was an Act of the first Parliament called by Henry. But it was shown that before Henry's assumption of the crown, whilst the King was in captivity, he made grants of the Earl's lands and goods in the name of the King, using Richard's name and seal for the purpose, as he did also in issuing writs for the summoning of a new Parliament, which were ante-dated so as to appear to have been issued by the King, and this Parliament it was which passed the Act of the Attainder. "This, of course," as Elsynge says, "was entirely illegal, for as the Earl had been illegally executed, without the pretence, or the possibility of a pretence, of any legal charge or lawful trial, there could be nothing to affect the legal rights which devolved upon his heirs, and a murder could hardly create a forfeiture." Further, it was shown that all the attainders of the Parliament of Henry were reversed by the first Parliament of Edward IV., therefore, even if the attainder had been perfectly legal, it became null and void by the subsequent reversal, and consequently the title was now lying dormant, and belonged to the heir-general of Sir William Scrope. This seems to be very simple, clear, and logical, but the Lords of the nineteenth century thought otherwise, and gave their decision that an Act of Parliament of the fourteenth century should be held to be valid, simply because it was an Act of Parliament, even although reversed by a subsequent Act, and that, consequently, the claim could not be admitted. The legitimate heir to the Earldom is, therefore, debarred from enjoying his title. But if the principle which operated adversely to his claim were to be set in motion retrospectively, many a proud coronet, even amongst those who voted against the claim, would fall to the ground.

It has been said by some authorities that Sir William was not the son of Richard, first Baron Scrope of Bolton, but his nephew, and son of Henry, first Baron Scrope of Masham.

He purchased, circa 1393, of William de Montacute, the sovereignty of the Isle of Man, the lord of the island at that time possessing the right of being crowned and styled king, although subject to the King of England.

At the time of the execution of the Earl, his brother Richard was Archbishop of York, who is represented by Walsingham, as having been "a pious and devout man, incomparably learned, of singular integrity, and of a goodly and amiable personage," and was so grieved at the murder of his brother, and so exasperated against the usurper Bolingbroke, that he entered into conspiracy with the Earl of Northumberland, who had been alienated from the King, and had lost his son (Hotspur) at the battle of Shrewsbury, and with Mowbray, Earl of Norfolk, son of the banished Earl, to dethrone King Henry. The standard of revolt, emblazoned with the five wounds of Christ, was raised at Shipton, near York, around which 20,000 Yorkshiremen ranged themselves. The Archbishop imprudently made known his intentions too openly, by fixing papers to church doors, charging the King with usurpation, perjury, sacrilege, and murder; by sending circulars to other counties calling upon the people to take up arms for his dethronement; and preaching three sermons denouncing him as a pseudo King, and a traitor to his sovereign. The King, of course, soon heard of these proceedings, and sent Prince John, afterwards Duke of Bedford, and the Earl of Westmoreland, with 30,000 men, to put down the insurrection. They found the conspirators so securely entrenched in the forest of Galtres that they deemed it most prudent to resort to a stratagem. By means of flattery and false promises they allured the Archbishop from his shelter, and immediately arrested him for high treason, taking him first to Pontefract and then to Bishopthorpe. The King directed the famous Judge Gascoigne to try and sentence him, who refused, saying that a Peer must be tried by his Peers. Judge Fulthorpe, who was less scrupulous, was then appointed, and, with scarcely the formality of a trial, condemned him to death. "Presently after, he was set upon an ill-favoured jade, his face towards its tail, and was carried with great scorn to a field hard by, where his head was stricken off by a fellow that did his office very ill, not being able to decapitate with less than five strokes." He was looked upon as a martyr by the people, who flocked in crowds to pray at his tomb and place of execution, which was forbidden by the King by proclamation, and the Pope excommunicated all who were concerned in his death. (See "The Loyal Martyr, 1722." Maydestone's "History of the Martyrdom of Archbishop Scrope." "A Narrative of the Decollation of Archbishop Scrope, by Thos. Gascoigne, d.d.," in MS. in the Bod. Lib.; and "A Declaration of Archbishop Scrope against the Government of Henry IV." in Ang. Sec., vol. 2.)

Black-faced Clifford.

THOMAS, eighth Baron Clifford, is said by genealogists to have been born in 1414, and that he was forty years of age when he fell at St. Alban's; but he must have been nearer fifty than forty, as his son John, ninth Baron, was born in 1430, when he would be but sixteen years of age; but marriages were contracted early then. His daughter, Elizabeth, was married at six years of age to Sir William Plumpton, who, dying soon after, she was re-married to his brother, her father stipulating that "they should not ligge together" until she had arrived at the age of eighteen. He was a portly, soldierly-looking figure, with a commanding presence, and a tone of voice calculated to ensure obedience to his commands. He had spent the greater part of his life, since the dawn of manhood, in the wars of France; was greatly applauded for his capture of Pontoise by a clever stratagem, in 1438, and two years afterwards won equal admiration for the skill and bravery with which he defended it against the troops of King Charles VII., and in 1445, he was entrusted with the high honour of escorting to England, Margaret of Anjou, the bride of Henry VI.

John, his son, was somewhat different, possessing neither the martial figure, the open countenance, nor the genial manner of his father. His frame was more slenderly proportioned, his face presented rather a scowl than a smile, and his temperament inclined to a moroseness and brooding, which rendered him cruel in war and disagreeable amongst his private friends.

It was a beautiful May morning in the year 1455; the sun was shining brightly in the Vale of Craven. Breakfast was spread in the great hall of the castle of the Cliffords. On the daïs at the upper end, sat, at the cross table, Thomas, Lord Clifford, and his wife, the Lady Joan, a daughter of Thomas, Lord Dacre, of Gillesland; his son John, with his wife, Margaret, daughter of Henry Bromflete; Baron Vesey; and the Prior of Bolton, who had come over on his mule to be present on this occasion. Down the centre of the hall stretched the long table of oaken planks resting on trestles, with benches on each side, on which were seated the knights of the fees of Skipton, esquires, the priests of the chapel, the secretary, the treasurer, the seneschal, the constable, and other of the higher officials of the castle, with others of meaner degree, all ranged higher or lower, above or below the salt, according to their rank. The tables were loaded with substantial fare—huge joints of beef, mutton, brawn, and venison; saltfish, fresh herrings, and eels, with manchetts of bread in trenchers, interspersed with foaming flagons of ale and pewter tankards of sack. There was rudely cooked plenty, and keen appetites to overlook the deficiency of delicacies.

The conversation on the daïs turned upon the great topic of the day—the manifest aspiration of Richard, Duke of York, to the Crown of England, and the deposition of the imbecile and monkish-minded King Henry VI. Henry of Bolingbroke, son of John of Gaunt, fourth son of Edward, had usurped the throne of his cousin, Richard II., and had been succeeded by his son, Henry V., and his grandson, Henry VI., which usurpation gave rise to the desolating War of the Roses, now breaking out, and it could not be denied that Richard had a better claim, as the representative, through Anne, his mother, of the Duke of Clarence, than Henry had, as representative of the Duke of Lancaster.

"The summons from the King arrived a week ago," said Lord Clifford in reply to the Prior, "and you will perceive, Holy Father, that I have lost no time in obeying it."

"And a fine body of men you have gathered together," said the Prior, "the flower of Craven, whom it would be difficult to match for rude bravery and devotion to the will of their lord."

"True," replied Clifford, "but we have opposed to us the men of the Vale of Mowbray, under the Duke of Norfolk, and the stout men-at-arms of Middleham, the followers of Warwick and Salisbury, all Yorkshiremen, not less obstinately brave than those of Craven, to say nothing of the Durham retainers of the Nevilles from Raby. But then we shall have the powerful assistance of the Percys, with their troops from Topcliffe and Leckonfield and Wressle, so that it must be a fierce and bloody contest. I count but little upon the men of the south and the west of England; it will be the valour of the north which shall decide it."

"Indeed, my lord," answered the Prior, "I foresee a long and bloody war, when such powerful competitors are pitted against each other, and I mourn over the thousands of desolated homesteads in Merry England, as it is wont to be called; merry, alas! I fear not, for many a long day to come."

"Have you had any further tidings, sir," inquired the younger Clifford, "of the movements of Richard of York?"

"Nothing," replied his father, "but that he has raised his standard on the borders of Wales, and is marching with his troops upon London, to demand justice upon Somerset; and further, I have received information that Salisbury, Warwick, and Mowbray, are hastening to join him. But we must not waste more time; we must perform a long march before sunset."

A short service was held, and mass said in the chapel before the leaders, by the Prior, and the head priest of the chapel extemporised a religious service in the courtyard to the soldiers, who stood bareheaded, and listened devoutly. In those days the lower classes, however rough and barbarous they might be, implicitly believed what was told them by the priests, without any dogmatic scruples whatever, believing that the shriving of the priest or monk cleared off all old scores of sin, and they might, without compunction, commence a fresh score; the sum and substance of their religion being to serve their feudal lord faithfully, accept the dogmas of the priest, and contribute according to their means to the money-chests of the Church and the monastery.

There was but scant leave-taking; the women of that time were so accustomed to parting with their husbands and sons for the French and Scottish wars, that they looked upon it as a matter of course. Outside the walls was a gathering of the wives, children, and sweethearts of the rank and file, with whom there were some tender leave-takings from those, so many of whom they would never more see, and who, despite their rough exterior, possessed within them hearts beating with affection and tenderness towards the cheerers of their cottage firesides.

The Royalists of Craven made but slow progress as they wended their way southward. It was not until after some ten days' marching along rough roads, entangled woods, the fording of rivers, and tramping through morasses, that Lord Clifford and the men of Craven found themselves on the borders of Hertfordshire. Here they met with a messenger from the King, with information that Henry and Somerset, with an army, small in number, but composed chiefly of nobles and knights, men of experience and valour, had come forth from London to meet the Yorkists, and would await Lord Clifford's arrival at Watford, bidding him to speed with all haste to that rendezvous. Lord Clifford and his son at this summons spurred on their chargers, leaving the troops to follow. They found the King occupying a house in the small town, and in conference with the Duke of Somerset, who had been nominated by the Queen to the Generalship-in-chief of the forces; they were admitted to the presence at once, and were cordially received by Henry, Lord Clifford being high in his favour. The Yorkshire contingent entered the town soon after, with their banners displayed and trumpets sounding, and pitched their tents alongside those of the King's army. A council of war was called in the evening, and Lord Clifford had the gratification of meeting there his uncle Henry, second Earl of Northumberland, now sixty years of age, King Henry V. having reversed the attainder of his grandfather, for the Shrewsbury and Bramham affairs, and restored him to the Percy estates and dignities, since which he had won distinction by sharing in the glory of Agincourt. At this council it was determined to march, on the following morning, upon St. Alban's, as it was ascertained from scouts that Richard of York, between whom and Somerset there was bitter enmity, was marching in that direction with an army he had gathered round him at Ludlow, which had been augmented on the road by the contingents of his sympathisers, and was supposed to outnumber the forces ranged under the Lancastrian banner.

The following morning the tents around Watford were struck by daylight; the troops breakfasted, and, with banners flying and trumpets sounding, they commenced their march towards St. Alban's. Sir Philip Wentworth carried the Royal standard; and with the King, as a guard of honour, were Humphrey, Duke of Buckingham, and his son, Earl Stafford; Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland; James Butler, Earl of Wiltshire; Thomas, Lord Clifford; and other nobles of the first rank.

As the army approached St. Alban's, they perceived the uplands in front of them covered with armed men, moving rapidly along towards the old Roman city, in battle array. On seeing this, the Lancastrians halted, set up the Royal standard, with Lord Clifford and his Craven men to guard the barriers. The Duke of Buckingham was sent to demand of the Duke of York why he thus appeared before his Sovereign. Duke Richard replied that he was loyal to the King, sought only for justice upon Somerset, and would at once lay down his arms if he would surrender him to be dealt with according to the laws of the kingdom. The King, on receiving this message, displayed unwonted spirit, and replied that "he would as soon give up his crown as deliver up either Somerset or the meanest soldier in his camp to the mercy of the Yorkists." This answer was final, and the Red and the White Rose met for the first time in the struggle of battle.

The Lancastrians had the advantage of position, and were so certain of victory that Somerset issued orders that no quarter should be given to the Yorkists, but the latter had firearms of a rude description, which gave them a counter advantage. Clifford, however, kept them at bay bravely, and prevented them from coming to close conflict. Meanwhile, Warwick, with his northern warriors, entered the town from the other side, and fell upon the King's troops with such vigour that, as Hall says, "the King's army was profligate disposed, and all the chieftains of the field almost slain and brought to confusion." The barriers were at length burst, and York entered the town, and then in the streets were heard the shouts of "A Warwick! a Warwick!" on the other side "A York! a York!" and in the midst the war cries of "King Henry! a Somerset! a Percy! a Clifford!" etc., all intermingled with the clash of swords upon armour and shield; the whir of arrows flying through the air; the groans of wounded and dying men, and the screams of flying women; whilst the market-place was strewn with the bodies of fallen men, and the streets flowed with blood. Shakspeare makes Clifford fall at the hand of the Duke of York. Warwick enters crying—