The Battle Abbey Roll. Vol. II.
by
The Duchess of Cleveland.
Prepared by Michael A. Linton
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Fitz Fitz : Fitz or Le Fils occurs as a surname in the Rot. Hundred, about 1272. The descents given by Gale (from a MS. in the Cotton Library) prove Thoresby, Marmion, and Fitz to be of one common stock. The family was of ancient date and "respected estimation" in the West of England; and gave their name to their seat at Fitz-ford, near Tavistock, "where they long dwelt in great reputation. But the male line ended in these our days in a most unfortunate gentleman, Sir John, whose sole daughter and heir was, according to her worth, highly married into honourable houses."—Westcote's Devon. The father of this unfortunate Sir John was, according to Prince a "very eminent counsellor in law," who served as Sheriff of the county in the time of Queen Elizabeth. He was much given to astrology, and when his wife was travailing in the pains of child-birth, "he would needs be enquiring into the fortune of her burthen before she was delivered;" and proceeded to cast the horoscope of his yet unborn son. But the planets were adverse and threatening, boding a terrible doom; and trembling lest his child should first see the light under so hostile and sinister a conjunction, "he desired the midwife, if possible, to hinder the birth but for one hour. This not being to be done, he declared that the child would come to an unhappy end, and undo the family. And it fell out accordingly." This astrologer gave his name to Fitz's Well, a spring of "marvellous virtue" on Dartmoor, to which young folks in former times used to resort at the first dawn of Easter Day. He chanced to discover it one summer's day, when, riding with his wife, they were, in the country phrase "pixy-led," and lost their way on the moor. Tired and thirsty, they rejoiced at the sight of the water, and alighted from their horses to drink; and as they drank, the fairy spell was broken, and their eyes opened; they recognized the path they had so long sought in vain, and quickly found their way home. This simple miracle is commemorated by two rude granite slabs that still enclose the well, bearing the initials of John Fitz, and the date 1568.
His son Sir John, the doomed heir whose evil destiny had been read in the stars before his birth, died by his own hand in the flower of his youth, having thrice before incurred the penalty of blood-guiltiness. His first quarrel was with Sir Nicholas Slanning, whom he slew near Tavistock. "The matter, it seems, was likely to have been composed, but the villain, Fitz's man, twitting his master with a 'What, play child's play! Come to fight, and now put up your sword!' made him draw again, and Slanning's foot in stepping back (having his spurs on) hitching in the ground, he was then unfortunately and foully killed: whereupon Sir John Fitz, by the interest of his friends, sued out his pardon soon after this happened, which was in 1599. But," continues Prince, "as one sin became (as oftentime it doth) the punishment of another, Sir John was so unhappy as to be guilty of a second murder;" and once more posted away to London to obtain pardon. He was possessed by the idea that the sheriff's officers were on his track, and in constant dread of being taken; and at every stage of his journey, was careful to make the door of his lodging secure. When he had got as far as Salisbury, or thereabouts, he was roused in the early morning by a violent knocking at his chamber door; and "he, not well awaked from his sleep, and not well understanding his servant's voice in the dark," leaped from his bed, drew his sword, flung open the door, and made a deadly thrust at the unseen intruder. When lights were brought, he found that it was his own servant, come to summon him betimes for the journey, whom he had killed; and overwhelmed with remorse and despair, he fell upon his own sword, and was pierced to the heart. He had married Gertrude Courtenay, and left behind him a baby daughter, who grew up to be "a lady of extraordinary beauty, and was looked upon," says Clarendon, "as the richest match in the West." She had no lack of suitors, and was four times married. Her first husband was Sir Alan Percy, sixth son of the eighth Earl of Northumberland: the second Thomas Darcy, eldest son of the Earl of Rivers: the third Sir Charles Howard, fourth son of the Earl of Suffolk: and her last, Sir Richard Grenville: but it is as Lady Howard that she is still remembered in local tradition.
Many are the legends and hob-goblin stories told about her in the neighbourhood. She was of very evil report in her generation; for some dire mystery attached to the "unknown means" by which she had disposed of her first three husbands.[1] With the fourth she had a bitter and life-long quarrel. The match had been made by the Duke of Buckingham; but the bridegroom was disappointed in his expectations, and "by not being enough pleased with her fortune, grew less pleased with his wife;" while she "quickly resented the disrespect she received from him." Sir Richard was a man of violent and tyrannical temper, "indulging to himself all those licenses in his own house which to women are most grievous," and withal took complete possession of her property. After a few miserable years of discord, she left him to take up her abode with the Howards, settling her whole estate on the Earl of Suffolk: and thus suddenly bereft of all he had to live on, he engaged in a Chancery suit with the Earl, challenged him to single combat, and vented his wrath in such opprobrious language that he was fined 6000 l. by the Star Chamber, and committed to the Fleet. Later in life he retrieved his reputation by his valour during the Civil War, and commanded for the King in the West.
His wife, however, never forgave nor forgot. She resolutely refused to bear his name, and visited his sins upon his children with relentless and vindictive cruelty. Her two first marriages were barren: but by Sir Charles Howard she had two daughters, besides a son that died s. p.; and by Sir Richard "she hath," says old Westcote, "fair issue, which she cast off, refusing to own them, so unconstant and irregular are some women's affections." One little daughter she especially disliked, and so savagely maltreated that a lady who was staying in her house as a guest was struck with compassion at the child's sufferings, and privately took her away to her own home. Lady Howard, who had made no secret of her wish to be rid of the child, was far from displeased at hearing that she was missing, and some months later received the tidings of her death with equal complacency. But it was a false rumour, intended to mislead and divert enquiry, for the little girl was in reality alive and well. She was brought up under the roof of her kind protectress, and in due time became a beautiful young woman, gifted with a charm and grace of manner that won all hearts. The lady who had adopted her then judged it right to reveal to her the secret of her birth, and to take her to see her mother, introducing her under a strange name as the orphan of a former friend. Lady Howard took a singular fancy to the girl, who, on her part, did her utmost to please and win her; and succeeded so well, that she seemed, day by day, to be gaining ground in her affections. At length, on one occasion when Lady Howard was loud in her praise, the lady thought her opportunity had come, and with some trepidation informed her that the girl of whom she spoke so warmly was no other than her own long-lost daughter. Lady Howard started back with horror at this unlooked-for announcement, and for the moment was struck dumb; then, in a sudden frenzy of passion, she turned upon her unhappy daughter, abused and threatened her with frightful violence, and peremptorily ordered her out of the house.
The poor girl accepted her dismissal, and for many long years never ventured into her presence again. But in the end her gentle heart began to yearn towards this unnatural mother, who was now an old woman, with but a short span of life before her; and she determined to go and make one last effort to obtain a kind word from her before she died. Thus it came to pass that Lady Howard (then living in her house of Walreddon) as she was one day coming down the broad oak stairs that led to the state-rooms on the first floor, perceived her hated daughter ascending the lower flight from the hall, and coming towards her. They met on the landing-place; and the daughter, throwing herself at her mother's feet, implored her compassion and endeavoured to kiss her hand. Lady Howard snatched it angrily away, and rushed towards the state-room; but the poor girl caught hold of her gown, and clinging to her in piteous entreaty, was dragged along on her knees, still praying and beseeching to be heard. But Lady Howard was obdurate; and as she passed into the room, slammed the door behind her with such violence that it closed upon the outstretched and imploring arm that was striving to clasp her knees. The arm was crushed and fractured, and the unfortunate sufferer, half dead with grief and pain, was for the second time turned out of her mother's house, and never saw her more.
By her will she gave the whole of her property to the Courtenays (her mother's relations), with one trifling reservation—a small pittance to be doled out "to any person who could prove herself to be the daughter of Mary, sole heiress of the late Sir John Fitz, and widow of Sir Richard Grenville." This legacy was never claimed. She is said to have ended her days in great tribulation and anguish of mind at a house she had near Oakhampton, and there, according to popular belief, she is still doing penance for her sins. Every night, as the clock strikes twelve, she issues forth from the old gate of Fitzford, in the form of a black hound with glowing eyes and fiery tongue, and runs to Oakhampton Park, where she picks a blade of grass and brings it back in her mouth, always returning before cock-crow; and this she is to do till every blade of grass in the park is picked. She has also been seen ("scores of time") driving in a coach of bones up the West Street of Tavistock in the direction of the moor. Men still living remember that it was a common saying among the gentry of the county, when a party was breaking up—"Come, it is growing late; let us begone, or we shall meet Lady Howard as she starts from Fitzford!"
These Fitzes have a very singular coat; Argent: a cross engrailed between twelve guttes de Sang. The name is found in several other parts of England.