Romance of Ashby-de-la-Zouch castle

Front matter

ROMANCE

OF

ASHBY-DE-LA-ZOUCH CASTLE.

Chapter I

OUR first acquaintance with the Castle introduces to our notice a great personage of the declining mediaeval age, a man who largely held the fortunes of England in his mailed hand.

We recall the dark and barbarous epoch of the Wars of the Roses, when the candle of the ancient chivalry had almost flickered out, and the bloody dynastic quarrel of the rival houses of Lancaster and York convulsed the realm of England. The story of the first baron dates backward to the root period of that horrible dispute, reanimating such old world characters as saintly Henry, vindictive Margaret, heroic young Edward of Lancaster, and the ambitious Duke of York.

KIUBY MUXLOE.

A curious interest centres in the ruins of the ancient brick castle of Kirby Muxloe, more real than the unsupported tradition that Jane Shore once languished therein, a prisoner of love, and pining for the society of London. The time-worn walls still invite the passing interest of the traveller, chiefly because their substance is of unusual bricks.

Z ROMANCE OF ASHBY-DE-LA-ZOUCH CASTLE.

Ill the rude days of tlie early 15tli century a fortress stood upon their site, that passed by inheritance to a retainer and knight of the House of York, Sir Leonard Hastings, and in which he established his home. Little is known of Sir Leonard but this, that nature endowed him with an aspiring ambition. He boasted a lineal descent from William Hastings, a steward of Henry II., and through him from Norman progenitors. By dint of hard blows and unflinching fidelity to his Lord, Leonard Hastings won his knighthood, but rose no higher m the social scale. Fate had not ordained that he should make a great name, but it had decreed that he should found an illustrious family. The shrewd knight, however, did for his coming heirs the greatest service open to human judgment, by giving them a noble ancestress. In the sunny south at Lord Camoy's castle in Sussex, he wooed and won his bride, the gentle Alice, the daughter of the Castle. There is to-day in Trotton Church a monumental brass, that brings us in touch with the grandfather of the Lady Alice ; the inscription reads : —

"Pray for the souls of Thomas Camoys and Elizabeth his consort, who formerly was Lord of Camoys, baron and prudent counsellor of the King and Kingdom of England, and a valiant Knight of the Garter. He commended his soul to Christ the 28th day of the month of March, A.D., 1419. On whose souls may God have mercy. Amen."

WILLIAM HASTINGS.

At Kirby Muxloe Castle the Lady Alice gave birth in 1430 to a son, whom they christened William, and who was destined to build Ashby

Castle, and found the Huntingdon family. No information is preserved of the childhood and boyhood of young Hastings. Frequently his father quitted the castle with his men-at-arms to render feudal service to his lord ; leaving the boy to his mother's sole care. In her delightful companionship he learnt those courtly manners for which he became distinguished in after days. It would be the office of Sir Leonard's forester and keeper of the hawks to train the boy in manly field sports, and the grooms would see to it that his skill in horsemanship would be sufficiently expert to win a nod of approval from the war-like knight. When young Hastings had attained his sixteenth year Sir Leonard bade him kiss the Lady Alice and accompany him on his long ride to Fotheringay, w^here he presented him to his patron the Duke of York. Hichard received the youth into his household as a page, in which capacity he soon attracted attention, and received an appointment to be one of his lord's body squires. After several years of indomitable service the young squire obtained the coveted distinction of knighthood. The Duke himself bestowed the accolade with it, granting him a conditional annuity.

THE HASTINGS VOW.

The condition bound Hastings on solemn oath to serve his lord, before all others, and at all times, his allegiance to the King only excepted. In the unsettled and brutal years of the early fifteenth century, men regarded fidelity as the supreme virtue, a basal principle of feudalism. It behoved the ambitious and Royal Duke, in view of the rough pathway that lay before him, to bind his young retainer (with his chivalrous instincts and his courtly manners) fast to liis personal interest. In doing this he served the future of hisdynasty. History unfolds the noble record of young Hastings' faithfulness to him personally, and to his heirs; in council chambers, on battlefields, and at the fatal block on Tower Green. He gave his master a consistent love and reverence, that gold could not purchase. In the light of a bond so lasting between feudal lord and retainer it is easy to understand Hastings' horror, when he heard of young Rutland's death and how vindictive Margaret had ordered the Duke's decapitated head to be crowned with a paper diadem and fixed upon a pike to a gateway of York.

The deed of unwonted barbarity awakened a desire for vengeance in the heart of every soldier of the White Hose. Duke Edward grasped the sword of his fallen father, and with the assistance of the King Maker, the Duke of Buckingham, Lords Howard and Stanley, and Sir William Hastings, infused his own determinate will into the minds of all his followers. He met the Lancastrian forces on the field of Towton. The battle raged six hours, in a blinding snowstorm. Sixty thousand men are said to have been engaged on each side, and the slaughter to have been incredible.

TOWTON.

The Yorkest herald afterwards declared he counted 2,000 Lancastrian dead. Each side fought with desperate bravery, and Edward's losses must have equalled those of Margaret.

When the fortunes of war appeared to be setting against the Yorkists, the King-maker dismounted, and with his own hand slew his famous destrier, declaring he would either win the victory or die

THE BFILDER OF THE CASTLE. 5

upon the field. The personality of the renowned leader and his theatrical deed re-animated the Yorkists. Knights and squires gripped their swords anew, yeomen rebent their bows, the ranks closed in, and Edward won the battle.

A FILIAL DUTY.

The following day, his mind intent upon the fulfilment of a filial duty long deferred, the Conqueror led his army to York. Lifting his tearful eyes to the summit of the groined archway, he commanded his knights to remove with reverent hands the mutilated remains, and give them holy burial.

Eight years of unrest and intrigue for England followed the victory of Towton, but years of fortune building for Sir William Hastings.

King Edward, with all his faults, knew how to estimate the value of the service his father's knight had rendered to him. He had climbed with mailed feet and bloody sword the steps of the throne of England, seating himself in Henry's place; and from its high altitude he reached down a gracious hand to lift Sir William Hastings to a foremost place in the peerage. With the barony he bestowed offices and wealth.

In 1461, the year of his accession, he conferred upon him the receivership of the Duchy of Cornwall, appointed him to the Mastership of the Mint, exalted him to be Grand Chamberlain of England (a position he retained until the day of his death), and Chamberlain of Wales.

We cannot wonder at the weight of honours the sovereign conferred upon his beloved servant, as he was wont to describe him. Fuller tells us, " the reader needeth not my dim candle to direct b ROMANCE OF ASHBY-DE-LA-ZOUCH CASTLE.

him, to this illustrious person whom Edward TV, (or rather Edward Plantaganet, because more in human than in royal capacity) so delighted in, that he made him his Lord Chamberlain, and Baron Hastings of Ashby-de-la-Zouch."

But clouds began to lower over the gaiety and profligacy of Edward's court. The Woodville marriage, followed by an unreasonable elevation of the Queen's relatives, alienated numbers of his subjects, and inclined others to the Lancastrian interest. The haughty King-maker retired in sullen anger to Middleham. Without openly revolting from Edward's cause he held aloof during the rebellion of Robin Redesdale, allowing that leader to defeat the royal forces at ISTorthampton and execute the Queen's father and brother, Earl Rivers and Sir John Woodville. Contemporary writers describe him as a consummate intriguer, an able commander, but wanting in personal bravery. His towering ambition moved him to aspire to be the ancestor of a dynasty. In furtherance of that end he accomplished the marriage of Clarence to his daughter Isabel in defiance of the King's veto. The defeat at Northampton left Edward without a following, led to his capture by Clarence and Warwick, and his committal to the custody of the Archbishop of York, who entertained him with

MIDDLEHAM CASTLE.

splendid hospitality at Middleham. The records of this period are uncertain and conflicting, but it appears that while the King alternately fumed and played the gallant, Gloucester and Hastings worked upon the fears of the Archbishop, stirred up the army to demand his release, and procured his liberation.

During tlie King's imprisonment disaffection increased. Everywhere the memory of the deposed dynasty revived. People contrasted the saintly character of Henry, the pathetic prisoner of the Tower, with Edward's voluptuous licentiousness, and the high-born Margaret with his commoner Queen.

The position of affairs all over the country became sufficiently perilous to awaken him; he saw the crown slipping from his brow, and discontent and rebellion undermining the foundations of his throne. Gloucester and Hastings, his loyalist lieutenants, urged him to activity. Besides, his imprisonment had roused his lion spirit, and the ablest military commander in England set himself the task of reconquering his Kingdom. By a series of rapid marches he scoured the counties, everywhere defeating his enemies, and inflicting vindictive vengeance until for a brief period he regained something of his old ascendency, then practically disbanded his army, and relapsed into his sensuous pleasures.

But he had only scotched the snake, not slain it. Warwick, with Clarence driven from the country by his recent campaign, fled to France, where a great amity existed between Louis XI. and the King-maker.

At the French King's Court Warwick met Margaret, and by the mediation of the King, became reconciled to her, at the same time negotiating a marriage between his youngest daughter, Gloucester's sweetheart, and the young Prince Edward of Wales, thus lifting a second daughter upon the steps of the English throne.

It was the darkest hour of King Edward's fortunes, yet he knew it not. Courtiers who had basked in the sunshine of his court; nobles who had shared his wanton amusements; and statesmen who had taken part in the deliberations of his Council Chamber, intrigued with his enemies. Gloucester, Hastings, Dorset, and others noted what was passing, but Edward would not heed them. He had experienced the consummation of his rough and ambitious father's wildest dreams; he had grown accustomed to think of Henry as a prisoner in the Tower, and of Margaret and Prince Edward as exiles. It remained for the Grand Chamberlain, his beloved servant, to tell him the stern truth, and tender to him advice repugnant to a warrior King who had won his crown by conquest.

In France the spirit of invasion filled the minds of Margaret and her exiled followers, while the wary King-maker laid his plans and prepared his armaments. The intelligence of his successful debarkment at Portsmouth on September 17th, 1470, aroused Edward from his unholy indolence. Whilst the King-maker advanced northwards through London everywhere proclaiming King Henry towards Nottingham, he moved from Doncaster to meet him. On the banks of the Welland he found himself surrounded by foes. The King-maker had approached within a day's march, and Lord Montacute, his brother, had hurried from York with 6,000 men wearing red roses in their caps, and shouting *' God save King Henry." His great lords sent a minstrel into Edward's tent to awaken him, and warn him of his danger. Sitting up in bed he called for his nobles and commanded them to set his troops in

HASTINGS' ADVICE.

battle array. Then it was while the lords looked askance at eacli other, that the Grand Chamberlain told him the truth, how not a single regiment of his army could be relied upon, and that to insure his personal safety he must on the instant flee to the court of his brother-in-law, the Duke of Burgundy. The King assented, and accompanied by the Duke of Gloucester, Earl Rivers, Lord Hastings and six other nobles, and escorted by a select company of faithful soldiers, rode over the bridge where he had set a guard to arrest Warwick's advance, and made his way at full gallop to King's Lynn. Hastings accompanied his sovereign in the first vessel available to Holland. Their flight had been so precipitate that on boarding they discovered that they possessed no money or valuables. The captain, however, received them kindly, accepting in payment for their passage the King's fur-lined cloak and promises of future reward. On quitting his army Edward advised his soldiers to join Warwick until his return, a recommendation that expressed the treacherous character of baronnial warfare. Landing in Holland at the end of September, the exiles made their way to the Duke of Burgundy's capital, and flung themselves upon his unwilling hospitality. While Warwick ruled in England in King Henry's name, coaxing Clarence's fickle alliance with unsubstantial titles, and seeking to win the confidence of suspicious Margaret, Edward waited impatiently his opportunity through the winter months, his queen a prisoner in the sanctuary at Westminster, in that lone condition when a wife most needs her husband's sympathy. In February he could no longer restrain his impatience, and resolved to put his fortunes to the hazard. " Upon the morn Wednesday and Thursday, the 13tli day of Marcli, fell great storms, winds and tempests upon the sea ; so that on the 13th day in great torment he came to Humberhede, where the other ships were dissevered from him. The King, with his ship alone, wherein was the Lord Hastings, his Chamberlain, and others to the number of 500 well-chosen men, landed within Humber, on the Holderness side, at a place called Ravenspoure. The King's brother Eichard, Duke of Gloucester, and in his company 200 men, landed at another place three miles from thence."

Advancing southward Hastings left the King to raise the Yorkish banner amongst his own tenantry in Leicestershire.

In response to his call men of all social ranks gathered around him, some volunteering out of love of adventure, but chiefly those who owed him feudal service.

Burgesses from Leicester provided with pikes of home manufacture, knights and esquires from halls and granges armed cap a pie, his own retainers, trained men of war, and yeomen from the farms with long bows, answered his summons. The task of equipping such a force set the forges in the villages all aglow, and awakened the music of armourer's hammers ; while foraging parties scoured the county. The Lord Chamberlain's command stirred Leicestershire to an unwonted activity, and speedily he found himself in a position to join his master with a force of 3,000 men.

BARNET.

On Easter Sunday, April 14th, 1470, the famed King-maker met his fate at Barnet. His ambitious course of scheming and treachery had reached its period. He might have secured his personal safety by responding to Edward's advances, as his weak son-in-law Clarence did, but sncb a step would have left him without a rag of honour to clothe his nakedness, and exposed his wife and child to Margaret's vengeance. Besides, he had no hope he could regain Edward's hearty confidence, he had made the breach too wide. So in the damp fog he prepared to engage in his last battle. Each side fought not merely for supremacy, but for existence. The combat may be fittingly described as the Battle of Blunders.

King Edward rode from London to Bamet the previous evening in the fog, to find on his arrival, Warwick's army well-arranged in battle array. Friar Bungay, the astrologer of Jacquetta, the Queen's mother, was credited at the time with having caused the fog by magic arts. The atmosphere on the eve of the battle was so dense that the Yorkists found themselves unable to effect a skilful deposition of their forces, because they could not reconnoitre the Lancastrian position. By a strange blunder they massed their men, so as to cover the King-maker's centre with their right wing, leaving their left wing stretched beyond the battlefield. Had the day dawned clear such a mistake would have caused the annihilation of Edward's army. But at four o'clock in the morning when the battle commenced the fog had not lifted. The left wing of each army, advancing in the fog, found no resistance, and in consequence moved for their centre. By this manoeuvre Warwick's left wing overpowered Edward's right, dispersing it, and pursuing the fugitives along the London Eoad. Meanwhile, the King-maker, suspecting the fidelity of his brother Montacute, persuaded him to dismount and fight on foot beside himself. The Yorkist left, encountering no opposition, also moved towards its centre, so strengthening the pressure round the King-maker. Edward and his soldiers, wearing a device of the sun with rays, pressed like an overwhelming avalanche upon Warwick. Everywhere in the dim morning twilight the eyes of the sorely-beset Lancastrians encountered suns and rays. Unfortunately for them, the Earl of Oxford (who had succeeded in dispersing and pursuing the Yorkist right) at this juncture returned to re-inforce Warwick, but his men carried badges of stars and rays. The Lancastrians, mistaking them for Yorkists, attacked them fiercely, giving King Edward an opportunity he was too expect a general to neglect, of delivering a final assault that completely scattered them.

The King-maker, perceiving the hopelessness of his rout, turned with his brother and a few faithful followers, and fled for the shelter of a neighbouring plantation ; but his armour both checked his pace, and by its familiarit}'- attracted the pursuit of the Yorkist men-at-arms ; who speedily overtook and despatched him. With his back to the foe the great King-maker, the last of the barons, died. Four hours of fighting had destroyed his power.

At ten o'clock that Easter morning, whilst over the fields of England and in the towns the merry bells chimed out their invitation to the house of prayer, a group of illustrious personages gathered round the cor])se of the head of the house of Neville, who had filled England and the Continent with his commanding influence.

His son-in-law Clarence, his cousin King Edward, his relative by marriage the Lord Chamberlain (who had commanded a division in the battle), and tlie Duke of Gloucester (his cousin, who aspired to a nearer relationship), gathered around his body lying like carrion on the ground. They had shared with him the dangers of former battlefields, his duplicity had roused their indignation, and no man shed a tear.

But Gloucester (a youth of eighteen) remembered past days, when as a boy he had shared the affluent hospitality of lordly Middleham, and played with Anne Neville, the sweetheart whom the dead man had affianced to a rival prince ; but whom he would some day make his wife, the mother of his children, and seat upon the throne of England.

Margaret's landing.

In the same fog that caused confusion on the battlefield of Barnet, Queen Margaret landed on the southern coast. But the light of hope dimmed in her eyes and her proud head drooped in despair when she heard the news of Warwick's fate. Long years of privation, of desertion, and of defeat had tamed the spirit of the lioness. She had sailed to England buoyed up by the thought, that the King-maker s marvellous influence would liberate her pious husband from the Tower and re-seat him on the throne. xVt Cerne Abbey she heard of his death and sank into a deadly swoon. Sir John Fortescue, her faithful counsellor, with her son Prince Edward and his youthful affianced bride, had accompanied her from France. The new widowed Countess of Warwick, who also had crossed the Channel with the Queen, landed at Portsmouth, and hearing of her loss, in mute despair sought refuge in the Beaulieu Sanctuary. On recovering consciousness the Queen bewailed her misfortunes, declaring she would rather die than live; but

14 ROMANCE OF ASHBY-DE-LA-ZOUCII CASTLE.

her son comforted her, and persuaded her to go to Beaulieu, where she met the Countess. The news of her arrival at Beaulieu reached the ears of the Lancastrian lords. The Duke of Somerset, Lords Devonshire, Oxford, Wenlock, and many knights and gentlemen hurried to her, bidding her hope for better fortune. They informed her that fugitives from Barnet, and volunteers from the southern counties were daily joining her standard, that the Earl of Pembroke had raised an army in Wales, and if her Majesty and the Prince would lead them into the Principality they pleaded, her combined army would be sufficient to resist any force that Edward could bring against it. Margaret expressed her willingness to accompany them, on condition they first despatched the Prince to France. Her maternal heart shrunk from the thought of exposing her noble boy to the dangers of the battlefield. To such an exception, however, the Prince himself would not agree. His chivalrous spirit could not brook the thought of others fighting for his father's liberty and crown, while he remained a craven in easeful security abroad. Where the Queen and her army marched he would accompany them. His protests bore down Margaret's opposition and wrung from her a reluctant consent. " Well be it so," she said, and to her dying day she cursed the hour she spoke the words. She appointed the Duke of Somerset commander of her forces. That nobleman proposed an expedition into Wales, to effect a junction with Lord Pembroke, and proceed to Chester. But the Yorkist King, by one of his accustomed rapid movements, blocked their way. On April 19th he left London, on May 3rd he reached Tewkesbury at earlv morn and encamped his army. When the Lancastrians arrived at Gloucester, they found to their consternation that the citizens had fortified the bridge, and refused them a passage over the river. The alternative was a forced march to Tewkesbury, over rough and dirty roads, with an insufficient commissariat. The army was dispirited by reason of the privations it had already encountered, and Margaret, shrewder than her general, would have postponed the journey, but Somerset insisted. The army reached Tewkesbury in a bedraggled condition, the soldiers weary, hungry, and dispirited, to find the Yorkist King's army comfortably bivouaced, well fed, and rested, and drawn up in battle array upon the low lands beside the river. At the sight of her rival's well-ordered appointments Margaret and her experienced officers again desired to retire, but Somerset refused. He drew his forces up in the park, declaring he w^ould take upon the morrow such fortunes as Grod should grant him. The battle that ensued destroyed for

TEWKESBURY.

ever the weary Queen's hopes. The fight at Barnet had been a knightly duel, the conflict at Tewkesbury proved a disastrous rout. When the Queen watched her regiments fly before the victorious Yorkists she endeavoured to rush to them, that she might implore them to renew their efforts, but her attendants hurried her with her daughter-in-law away from the scene of carnage to a neighbouring monastery. King Edward, in his early years so chivalrous and merciful, had steeled his heart when he entered upon his final campaign, and on the field of Tewkesbury allowed his soldiery a license that resulted in a carnage that has left a stain upon his memory. Thousands of Lancastriaus were murdered on the field in cold blood. Even the rights of sanctuary honoured by belligerents for centuries were ignored. Edward and his Queen had each in past days availed themselves of the safety it afforded. But when the Duke of Somerset, the prior of St. John, and a body of knights sought refuge in the grand old church, he pursued them sword in hand. A brave priest (holding the sacred elements in his hand) interposed, nor would he allow him to pass until the King had vowed to respect the solemnity of God's house. He promised, yet a day or tAvo later ordered the refugees to be dragged from the church, and put to death. But the pathos of that bloody battle day at Tewkesbury centres in the person of the gallant Prince Edward. The version of the incident long accepted by historians tells us that at the head of a division he fought amongst the bravest, even after all was lost. Sir Richard Crofts led him a captive into Edward's tent. The King demanded of him, " How dare you enter my realm with banners displayed."

The Prince stood before his ancestral foe alone, unsupported by a solitary friend, but undaunted ; and looking calmly into his eyes replied, " To recover my father's kingdom, and heritage from his grandfather and father to him, and from him to me lineally descended."

The King turned his head aside, with his hand pushing the knightly youth from him, and then, as by an involuntary impulse, struck the captive with his iron gauntlet. History in its long annals records no deed more unchivalrous ; it appealed to passions already pulsating with the fever throb of war ; it recalled the memory of the boy Earl of Rutland kneeling upon the field of Wakefield to fiendish. Clifford, begging for life, and receiving in reply a stab of bis dagger ; it reminded tbem of that other scene at Wakefield when the Lancastrians seated the captnred Duke of York upon an ant hill and mocked him, crying, " Hail, King without a kingdom," " Hail, Prince without a people," and then beheaded him; the bitterness of ancient and cherished vows of vengeance filled the hearts of the knights and squires grouped arovmd the King, at the opportunity to bring home to Margaret in the person of her beloved son her vindictive cruelty at Wakefield. No man interposed ; no man uttered a generous word of mercy ; but several knights, unsheathing their daggers (foi the hideous work was too close for swords), stepped towards the Prince and plunged them into his heart. No reliable authority records their names ; it was well for the Lord Chamberlain in bis deatb hour and at the day of judgment, if he could say kis hands were clean of the defenceless victim's blood. It was a foul price to pay for a royal crown ; even though it purchased for the Yorkist King immunity from opposition for all his future life. For full four hundred years gentle hearts have shed tears of pity for the Eoyal Martyr. But his death gave England peace, quenching with his blood the smouldering flames of war.

BUILDING THE CASTLE.

And now Lord Hastings having in modem parlance made his fortune, addressed himself to the task of building a house in keeping with his greatness, worthy to serve as a home for his succeeding heirs. He had won the hand of the young and wealthy widow of Lord Bonville in marriage, the daughter of Eichard Neville, Earl of Salisbury, 3 and obtained tlirougli the Neville interest the castle and manor of Belvoir. King Edward had already conferred upon him the manor of Ashby-de-la-Zonch and the Stewardship of Leicester Castle, making him lord of a wide area round his birthplace.

Men everywhere cling to the neighbourhood of their nativity; and in consonance with this instinct invariable in human life, Lord Hastings selected a site at Ashby-de-la-Zouch. Living as he did in the period of declining feudalism, when authority centred in the person of the King, and the last of the barons who had dared to oppose the royal will had perished on Barnet field, he deemed it no longer necessary or wise to attempt the construction of a stronghold of Norman architecture. Indeed, had he cherished such an idea the King would have forbidden its accomplishment. He therefore submitted to Edward the plan of a modern fifteenth century mansion, of graceful proportions, but massive strength, in which he retained that essential and supreme refuge of a defence a Norman keep, alike the architectural glory and the protection of the building. The architect's design included state rooms, banqueting hall, sleeping apartments, garrison quarters, armoury, buttery, kitchens, and stables, built into substantial walls, ornamented with battlements, and flanked with towers and turrets. The parapets were contrived to enable a beleaguered household to pour boiling water and molten lead upon the heads of assailants. The shrewd baron retained the essential principles of feudal defence, disguised by the ornamental display of the later palatial style. The spacious dimensions of the kitchens manifest his design to maintain a princely household. The task of providing the materials of the fabric must have taxed his ingenuity and resources.

He demolished the late residence of the attainted Earl of Ormond that had passed into his possession, and drew supplies from the quarries at Bardon Hill. The royal license empowered him not only to erect the Castle, but to empark 3,000 acres of land at Ashby, 2,000 at Bagworth, and 2,000 at Kirby Muxloe, thereby extending the boundaries of his estate to the walls of Leicester. The preliminary royal sanction obtained, Lord Hastings set the gigantic building operations in motion, bringing an army of artificers in wood and stone and iron to Ashby. While the walls rose slowly to the music of the trowel, he occupied himself v-ith the stupendous and costly preparation for furnishing. The Grand Chamberlain's new palace became a topic of conversation at Court, as well as in continental palaces, and interested the King himself. His agents wandered from city to city on the continent. From the looms of Flanders, the factories of France, the studios of Italy, and the armouries of Spain, they collected carpets, tapestries, glass, plate, statuary, arms, and armour; the stately oaks of Leicestershire, Derbyshire, ^Nottinghamshire, and Yorkshire fell before his woodmen's axes ; and convoys of wagons carted the timber to Ashby, where skilled artisans planed and turned it into furniture ; artists arrived from London to carve and gild on walls and chattels ; and enormous quantities of lead from the Derbyshire mines, brought on mules and pack horses, supplied material for roofs and windows. Presents, too, came from many sources. Comines asserts that on the occasion of Lord Hastings' ambassadorial mission to the Court of France, the French King presented him with a service of plate valued at 10,000 marks. It consisted of twelve dozen articles of gilt silver, and twelve dozen of ungilt silver. The baron's acknowledgment of th.e gift was preserved in the Paris archives until the Revolution.