Part 19 (1/2)

_Sable, a saltire engrailed argent._--11. _Argent, on a cross azure, five escallops or._--12. _Barry of six argent and sable._--13. _Argent, a horse-barnacle sable._--14. _Gules, a fess dancette between six cross-crosslets or._--15. _Or, a cross engrailed vert._-16. _Azure, two lions pa.s.sant guardant in pale or._--17. _Argent, on a chevron sable, a fleur-de-lys of the field._ CREST:--_An heraldic tiger statant vert bezante, ducally gorged and lined or._” (METCALFE'S _Book of Knights_.)

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 workmans.h.i.+p, heightened with gold. He was clad in armour, embroidered trunk-hose, and with collar turned out over the _mentonniere_; 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 cus.h.i.+on 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 cus.h.i.+ons. The figure was of fine workmans.h.i.+p, similar in character to her husband's.

The tomb below has panels with arabesques, and in their centres s.h.i.+elds, originally covered with bra.s.ses. On the end panel, under the head, is this inscription,--

HERE LYETH D^A. JANE LATE WIFE OF S^R. HENRIE CHEYNE KNIGHT L^O.

CHEYNE OF TODINGTON AND ELDEST DAVGHTER OF S^R. THOMAS WENTWORTH KNIGHT L^O. WENTWORTH AND LORD CHAMBERLAINE TO KING EDWARD THE SIXT WHO DECEASED THE 16 DAIE OF APRIL A^O. D^O. 1614.

HERE LIES MY BODIE IN CORRVPTIONS BED, MY SOVLE BY FAITH AND HOPE TO HEAVEN IS LED, IMPRISONED BY LIFE, DEATH SET ME FREE, THEN WELCOME DEATH, STEP TO aeTERNITY.

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 REGINae ELIZAB: 38 aeTATIS SUae 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 un.o.btrusive station, and simple unenvied delights--ever the best--of every-day life? In truth it does not; as we pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sing 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.

Of poets song, inspirer oft,--yet still Many of thy sweet changes wait unsung,-- Differing as are the hearts thine echoes fill, As various the thoughts then through them rung:-- Who may define these pleasures that arise Within the soul by quickening spell set free?

As lief may hand essay to paint the skies, Whose pa.s.sing glories change eternally.

Is it because we know not whence they come, And only feel the magic of their power?

Outside our ken, from some Elysian home, Spring the delights that charm the pa.s.sing hour; And heaven itself, beyond thought's bounding line, Lies pictured still as wishful hearts incline.

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, flas.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+ne the pre-eminent glory of the crown, the mild l.u.s.tre 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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sing 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 disa.s.sociated 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 rec.u.mbent 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 G.o.d, their homes are dust; But here their children pray.”

To the pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.seth all understanding.

BOSWORTH FIELD.