Philip Hawford cannot be counted on the list of abbots. After having borne and yielded much, Lichfield resigned, and Hawford was appointed in his place, merely that he might surrender his charge in due form to the King, an act to which it was impossible for Abbot Lichfield to condescend, Hawford afterwards became Dean of Worcester, and there in the cathedral, in a recess behind the reredos, his effigy may still be seen, in full abbatial vestments, mitre and staff. Abbot Lichfield was allowed to retire to the manor house of Offenham, where he died in 1546, and was buried in the lovely chapel he had built in early life on to the church of All Saints beneath the shelter of his own Abbey.
The story of the Monastery has nowcome to an end. In 1536 the lesser priories and monasteries were suppressed, and we can well imagine the tremor which this daring act of Henry must have sent through the religious world. We can be sure the blow was unexpected by the monks themselves. Only a few years before this Clement Lichfield had devoted much labour and money to the decoration of the great church, and his last work was the building of the tower which stands to this day. We can never know whether the architectural additions which he made to the parish churches were suggested by the suspicion that they might survive that glorious edifice under whose shadow they reposed; but in his later years of retirement surely we may believe that he experienced a sorrowful gratification at the thought that some of his work would remain for the admiration of future ages, and that his mortal remains would lie in peace within the chapel which, in his youth, he had planned and adorned.
While Thomas Cromwell and his agents were engaged in their grim work of destruction we can fancy how Rumour first made herself busy; how the people talked of royal commissions and inquiries; tales would reach them of priories and convents which were seized, and of monks and nuns thrown upon the world. Messengers were seen to come and go, and the great gatehouseof the Abbey was eagerly watched by the curious and anxious townspeople. They talked from door to door, and in clusters in the market-place, and on Merstow Green, from which the precincts were entered. At last the blow fell! One by one the monks filed out of their historic home in solemn procession, their heads bent beneath a weight of misery they were hardly able to bear, though not yet capable of realising the full meaning of the calamity which had befallen them. It is true they were not sent into the world entirely without means of subsistence; some who were in holy orders had been appointed to livings by the Abbot and convent; to others pensions were allowed, but what would this avail in their time of sorrow!
Then the grand pile of Gothic buildings was resigned to the King's agents, and a great cloud hung over the little town. In a short time the gorgeous shrines and altars were plundered and desecrated; the buildings were sold; and before the eyes of the astonished inhabitants tower and pinnacle, church and chapter-house, gatehouse and cloister, fell a prey to the hand of the destroyer!
"... work, that stood inviolateWhen axe and hammer battered down the state. . . . .... the tall Belfry of the Abbey GateYet stands majestic, pinnacled, elate,And fills the Vale with music far and wide."
—HERBERT NEW.
The earliest architectural remains are the work of Norman abbots. The most perfect relic of this period is Abbot Reginald's Gateway, now leading from the market-place into the churchyard, which consists of side walls both decorated with round arches and shafts. The building above has been much "restored." As there are no signs of stone groining, the superstructure was, in all probability, always of timber, but the design of the arcades, and certain moulded arch stones found embedded in the soil below would seem to point to the existence in former times of two stone arches, one at each end, which would add much to the strength of the building. This gateway stood in a line of wall enclosing the monastic precincts and the outer yard in which stand the parishchurches, and stretching to the river eastwards and westwards. The lower portions of the walls have recently been cleared of earth and exposed to view. It will be noticed that the soil has risen by gradual accumulation to a height of several feet above its original level in the seven hundred and fifty years which have elapsed since the construction. In monastic times this gateway figured in the important ceremony attending the installation of a new abbot.Before entering the precincts of the monastery the destined prelate, accompanied by his chaplains and personal following, halted in this corner of the market-place, and after entering one of the adjoining houses where his shoes were removed he proceeded barefoot into the churchyard. The whole convent, duly accoutred, were in waiting, and as soon as the new abbot appeared in the gate they emerged in ordered procession from the north porch of the great church to meet him. After various formalities he was solemnly escorted to the church, where further important ceremonials were performed.
ABBOT REGINALD'S GATEWAY
ABBOT REGINALD'S GATEWAY
To the previous century may be assigned the bases of the substantial piers which stood at the crossing of the nave and transept, and supported the tower of the great church. These remains may be seen in the excavated hollow a few steps from the southern side of bell tower. The tower of the church was begun by Abbot Walter soon after the Conquest, and there can be little doubt that these massive foundations belong to his time. If we follow the line of wall to the south from this point we come to an arch, bare on this side but elaborately carved on the other with two rows of figures under canopies. This archway was in the east walk of the cloisters, and gave entrance to a vaulted passage connecting the cloisters with thechapter-house. Though the figures have been considerably mutilated and weather-worn it will be seen that the carving is of great beauty; the outer figures are seated while the inner ones stand, and over both are placed canopies of tabernacle work. We know this as the work of Abbot Brokehampton, by whom it was erected early in the fourteenth century. The bare face of the arch was originally hidden by the stone vault forming the roof of the passage already referred to. The chapter-house stood out in the field; but much farther, even to the edge of the bank which slopes down to the monks' fish ponds, did the choir and Lady chapel extend.
As we retrace our steps we follow the line of the transepts. When we reach the exposed foundations, let us pause awhile and allow our imagination full sway. We are standing in the midst of the choir, in the "dim religious light" of a great mediæval church. Above is the "high embowed roof" of the central tower; around are the stalls set in a screen of woodwork intricately carved. All is mellowed by the "storied windows," which break the light into many coloured rays. Looking westward, over the blank wall, we should see in vision the tall rood screen and gallery, and, stretching far beyond, the long vista of Norman arches and painted roof: and through the screen glimpses would reach us of the many-colouredwest window. Let us turn round, and in place of sunlit trees and river conjure up the broad flight of stone steps, the stately sanctuary above, with its glorious reredos enriched with tabernacle work and carving, gold, silver, and colours; and the clerestory lights shedding that sweet lustre we have seen somewhere never to forget!
The bell tower rising in solitary state beside us cannot wait for its true chronological order. It is one of the few existing examples of many separate belfries built to hold the bells either for convenience, or in cases where the towers of the church were of insufficient strength. As a rule these buildings were much broader and less graceful in design. This tower has been critcised as "squat," but considering its use it will be seen that a broad base is essential to its character. In reality, it is remarkable how much delicacy and grace have been given by form and proportion, without lessening the strength or utility. The tower was built by Clement Lichfield in the last years of his abbacy, and hardly finished at his resignation in 1539. That the builder and his local contemporaries were proud of this last ornament to the town, is proved by the inscription on Lichfield's grave, which concludes with the line "in whose time the new tower of Evesham was built."
The bell tower is indeed Evesham's chiefglory, from some standpoints her principal cause for pride. Unique in its character, it strikes every beholder with surprise and pleasure in proportion to his capacity for the appreciation of stately form and exquisite workmanship. Built by the accomplished and learned Lichfield in the pure perpendicular style, at a time when Gothic architecture was fast sinking in its decline, it would seem to be, not only one of the triumphs of mediæval art, but one of the very last efforts of a dying tradition; in it we see embodied the lofty thought of one of our noblest abbots. Though it has not witnessed the beginnings of the conventual life, the early struggles, nor the palmy days of monasticism, it forms a connecting link between the dim past and this present time. It is, as it were, a monument perpetuating the memory of a great period and a great institution.
If the atmosphere be clear we should ascend the spiral staircase, and from the summit, no great height indeed, we shall gain a view of the town with the encircling river, and the vale with the surrounding hills. The tower still performs its function, and every day the chimes play a different tune, all familiar airs that never tire, but with repetition seem rather to gain in association and charm.
If we take the path from the tower which brings us to the left side of SaintLawrence's church, we skirt an old wall which bounded the great courtyard of the Abbey, and joined the great church to the gate-house. We soon come to a door of fifteenth century workmanship, and close by is a curious Gothic chimney of about the same date. On the inner side was the porter's lodge, and from here to the adjacent church of Saint Lawrence ran a covered way, probably a vaulted passage like a cloister walk, through which the officiating priest would enter. If we proceed we soon find ourselves at the bottom of Vine Street, and looking across Merstow Green; and over the house-tops, bounding the horizon we see Clark's Hill, a steep bank on the opposite side of the river, traditionally said to have been planted by the monks as a vineyard. On our left is a large plastered building enclosed within substantial iron railings. This was once the great gatehouse of the Monastery, and was built in the fourteenth century by Abbot Chiriton, who obtained a special licence from King Edward the Third to fortify the abbey precincts. The windows and the wing projecting outwards are comparatively modern, but a Gothic window may be seen in the wall facing the churchyard, and the original arches can be traced on the garden front. Close by, and possibly adjoining, was the Barton Gate which led to the stables and outhouses.The long low building of stone and timber, washed over in the old manner with lime, which rises from the grass on our left was once the Almonry of the Abbey. It is now occupied as offices and separate dwellings. The front is extremely picturesque with its buttresses, perpendicular window and quaint openings. The western portion, built mainly of timber, with here and there the remains of carving, and a diaper imprinted on the plaster, contains the great fireplace, clearly indicated on this side by the mass of solid stonework. Turning the corner into Little Abbey Lane we come to the yard at the back, and we may be allowed to view the interior of the Almoner's kitchen, which still retains some of its primitive character. From this apartment a passage runs through the entire length of the building, and this was no doubt originally continued, forming a communication with the main buildings of the Monastery. In the corner of the courtyard, beneath a brick gable which is mere modern patchwork, the passage takes an abrupt turn, and in the angle is placed a curious "lantern" of stone, which, from its character, may very probably be the work of the Gloucester school of masons of the fifteenth century. The proper position and use of this curious relic is only guessed at. The chambers below are said to have served the purpose of aprison at one time, the prisoners' food being placed in the lantern, and taken by the unfortunate inmates through the hatch cut in the wall behind. The passage is continued from this corner to the outer wall of the building where it abruptly terminates in a screen of modern construction. If we go farther round this block into the garden we shall come to another cottage, and in the front room we may see a well-carved fireplace ornamented with five quatrefoils. It is composed of the oolite stone used for all the finer and more important work in the Monastery, but has been lately painted, with unfortunate result. Beyond a partition is a beautifully carved fragment which would seem to have formed part of an elaborate shrine or chantry, but now serves as the lintel of the scullery window. Overlooking the garden in which we stand as we leave the door is the gable end of a plain rectangular building, now cottages, but formerly the Abbot's stables.
One more relic completes the list of the remains of the "late Abbey," as Leland pathetically alludes to that important establishment. Walking across the Green we see before us an old stone porch embattled above, and behind it a plain building of two storeys. This was the Grammar School of Abbot Lichfield, and his inscription over the door may still be deciphered, "ORATE PRO ANIMA CLEMENTIS ABBAT."The schoolhouse is of timber, and has been little altered, except that the front is spoiled by the substitution of brick for wood and plaster; the ornamental battlement on the porch is also of recent date.
For more than a hundred years after the destruction of the noble pile the site was used as a stone quarry, and fragments may be found in almost all the older houses in the town, and in many farm buildings in the neighbourhood. There is hardly an old garden near that has not some carved stones of curious shape recognisable by the antiquary as having once formed part of a shaft, a window, or an archway of the proud Abbey. Of these scattered fragments the most important is the lectern of alabaster, Romanesque in style, now, after long misuse and neglect serving its original purpose in the church of Saint Egwin at Norton, a village lying nearly three miles to the north of the town. A description of this relic will be found in the last section of this work.
The local tradition of the splendour of the Monastery is no doubt handed down to us by Thomas Habington, the antiquary, who visited the town in 1640. "There was not to be found," he writes, with pardonable exaggeration, "out of Oxford or Cambridge, so great an assemblage of religious buildings in the kingdom"!
The two parish churches, placed together in one yard, make with the bell tower an unusually striking group. What then would be the feelings aroused in the spectator were the great church, a cathedral in magnitude and splendour, still visible, rising majestically above roofs and spires. To us the Abbey which is gone can do no more than add solemnity to the scene which once it graced. It matters little by which entrance we approach the churchyard, for from every side the buildings group harmoniously; each of the steeples acting as it were as a foil to the other: and both the spires unite in adding dignity to the bell tower. The churchyard in Norman times would seem to have been part of the Abbey precincts, as it is enclosed within Abbot Reginald's wall already described, and a second wall, part of which is still standing, divided it from the Monastery and the monastic grounds.
The Church of All Saints seems to have served, from very early times, as the parishchurch. As we examine it we read, as in an ancient and partly illegible manuscript, its long story. The restorer, more ruthless than Age or Time, has, with the best intentions, laid his heavy hand upon it, and obliterated much of its character and history; but enough remains to interest us, though pleasure is now mingled with much vain regret. In the simple Norman arch through which we pass as we enter the nave, and perhaps the western wall with the small round-headed windows, we find the earliest records. The slight tower with its sharply-pointed windows and delicate spire was added, probably supplanting an earlier and simple porch, in the time of the Edwards. The arches and northern clerestory of the nave belong to a rather later period when the church was found too narrow for the increasing population; while the arches on the southern side with no clerestory above, are probably later still. The choir and north wall of the nave are the work of the restorer, and tell us nothing but a tale of culpable neglect and mistaken zeal! The head of the north door of the chancel is, however, a relic of the original building, and this should be carefully examined. It is beautifully cut with double rows of cusps, and is of fourteenth century workmanship. The latest Gothic additions are the work of Clement Lichfield. To this Abbot we owe the outerporch so deeply panelled, with its two entrance doorways, its pierced battlements, and finely carved timber roof; to him also do we breathe our thanks as we stand looking up at the lovely vaulting of the Lichfield Chapel built by him in his younger days when Prior of the Monastery. Here was Lichfield buried, and beneath the floor his body lies; formerly a memorial brass engraved with effigy and inscription marked the spot, but this has long since disappeared. The inscription, however, can be read on a tablet lately erected by pious hands to perpetuate his memory. Over the entrance we may still see the initials of the builder carved upon an ornamental shield. The windows are now filled with modern glass, not unworthily telling the oft-repeated story of the "vanished Abbey." In the upper lights are represented figures of the Virgin Mary, and of Eoves with his swine. The shields on either side of the former figure bear the lily and the rose; to the left of Eoves are the arms of the Borough of Evesham, and on the right those attributed to the ancient Earls of Mercia. The figures below show Saint Egwin, with the arms of the See of Worcester to the left, those of the Monastery to the right; and Abbot Lichfield, with his own arms (Lichfield alias Wych) on the left, and those of the Rev. F.W. Holland, to whose memory the windowswere glazed, oh the right. In the west window of the chapel is Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, with the arms of de Montfort on the left, and those of James the First, who granted the Borough its charter, on the right. Above him is his opponent and conqueror, Prince Edward; to the left his own arms as eldest son of the monarch, and to the right the traditional arms of Edward the Confessor; who according to the Abbey Chronicles first granted the town a market and the right of levying tolls. In one of the carved panels below these windows is a variation of the coat-of-arms of the Monastery.
As we leave the church porch we shall notice the black and white house adjoining Abbot Reginald's gateway on the right. This is now a private house, but was until lately the Vicarage. The lower rooms have been made to project to the level of the first floor, and the picturesqueness given by an overhanging storey has thus been lost. In one of these rooms is a large fifteenth-century fireplace of stone.
The Church of Saint Lawrence has little to say to us of its history. Though an old foundation the irregular western tower is the earliest part now standing, and this is not older than the fourteenth or fifteenth century; the rest of the churchwas built in Lichfield's time, but after having lain in ruins for many years it underwent a complete restoration towards the middle of last century, with the result that much of the Gothic character is lost. The general plan of the church with its panelled arcade and open clerestory is original, but the northern side is modern, and compared with the old work hard and lacking in feeling. The east window and the chapel now used as the baptistery are both fine examples of perpendicular architecture and worthy of careful study. The carved detail round the east window with its playful treatment of flying buttresses, battlements, and pinnacles is charming in its delicacy and proportion; and some of the detail is almost as sharp as when it left the mason's hand four hundred years ago. The chapel is, in its way, perfect, a complete vault of fan tracery. The decayed condition of the broken canopies, once flanking an altar, and which were the work of the same hands as the east window, shows into what a dilapidated condition the church had fallen. There was a corresponding chapel on the north side of the nave, but this has been long demolished. The present font is an unsympathetic copy of the old one, dating from the fifteenth century and still preserved at Abbey Manor. Outside the tower on the north side, and set on a level with the eye,should be noticed a carving of the Crucifixion, much worn by weather and rough usage; but even yet may be traced a master hand in the attitudes and proportion of the figures.
The towne of Evesham is meetly large and well builded of tymbre ... The market is very celebrate.—LELAND, circ. 1540.
The town of Evesham consists, by reason of its insular position, of only one thoroughfare. The river winds round enclosing it on three sides, so that, there being but one bridge, there is no other outlet except towards the north. There are four principal streets: High Street, which was in all probability an extension of the "celebrate" market along the Worcester and North Road; Vine Street and Bridge Street, both skirting the boundary wall of the abbey precincts, and so probably the oldest in their origin; and Port Street, the main thoroughfare of Bengeworth, forming part of the London road beyond the river bridge. High Street, Bridge Street, and Vine Street lead from the Market Place, and here we will stand and look around. On the north side is the "market-sted," "fayre and large" as when Leland viewedit, but now converted to private uses. It is a fine example of Gothic timber construction; but to think of it as it appeared to Leland's admiring gaze, we must imagine the walls and partitions of the lower storey cleared away, and fancy it supported only by massive pillars of oak, roughly hewn and of great strength. Below was the market sheltered from the rain, and such as may still be seen at Ledbury and other places; and above were chambers devoted to the business of the town, and presumably of the various guilds, of which little is now known.
About 1586 the "New Town Hall" was erected, probably of stone from the ruins of the Abbey, on the west side of the square; but from this point the older part of the building is entirely obscured by recent additions, and to understand its first appearance we must walk round it into Vine Street. The general plan, though the difference in material necessitates changes in form, is much the same as in the older Booth Hall, for by this name the older market hall is known. There is the basement, open until lately and used as a market, and above is the large hall, and the rooms for public business. The clock turret and ornamented gable were added in commemoration of Queen Victoria's Jubilee of 1887. Little else calls for notice, but the group of timber gables inthe corner near the churchyard will certainly attract the eye by their picturesque grouping. The most prominent of these gables is carved with a flowing design, and in the upper angle can be seen a large T, and some smaller letters which have not been deciphered. Above the chimneys rise the tower and spire of All Saints Church.
In the Market Place, Evesham
In the Market Place, Evesham
The breadth of High Street may be accounted for by the supposition that the roadsides in this direction were broad and grass-grown, and used for the market, which was large and important. Indeed, until quite lately, the fairs now carried on in a closed market were held in the open street, the animals being penned up by hurdles. Bordering the green sward houses would have sprung up to cater for the wants of the farmers and drovers, and, as the town grew larger, a continuous line of street would be formed, and the grass edge would naturally be paved for cleanliness and convenience. The irregularity of the houses in shape, size, and colour will at once strike the visitor. The primitive timber has been almost entirely superseded by the more "respectable" and secure brick front, but the interiors and the backs of the houses show that the construction is often really of wood with a thin veneer of old-fashioned respectability. High Street leads on to GreenHill, now severed from the town by the railway, and becomes the main road northwards. Near the end of the street, towards the railway stations, is a building of stone and brick thinly coated with plaster, roofed with stone tiles, and with a recessed porchand balcony. The railing of the balcony especially should be noticed, being of unusual design, and very likely the work of the local blacksmith more than two hundred years ago. The name, Almswood, reminds us that here was once a wood belonging to the office of the Almoner to the Abbey. On the same side of the street, nearer the centre of the town, is another interesting house. It is a mansion of brick, and in front are some very fine railings fixed on a low wall of stone. The door, which is in the middle of the front, is approached by wide steps, and over it is a heavy canopy supported by wrought-iron brackets of decorated scroll work. This house belonged to a certain Thomas Cookes, whose family were large landowners in the neighbourhood of Tardebigg in the northern part of the county, and was built by him in the time of King William III. It contains a fine staircase, ornamental fireplaces, and panelled walls. At the back is a paved yard enclosed by short wings, and from here a stairway and tunnel lead under a narrow street into what was once a large and beautiful garden. Though now sadly curtailed and overlooked, enough is left to show what it must have been like in former days. Beside the main path is a tall and well-cut sundial of stone, with a weather-vane at the top pierced with the initials ofRobert Cookes, and the date 1720. At the end of the garden is a break in the wall, formerly railed across, and flanked on either side by tapering columns. This was a favourite device for obtaining a long vista extending beyond the garden, and when it was constructed the view over the meadows and river to Clark's Hill must have formed a charming outlook. It is now obstructed and spoiled by a modern street. In the farther corner of this old-fashioned garden is a tower of wood known as the Temple, and at the back of this an external staircase winds, giving access to the upper rooms, both curiously decorated with carving and painting. There is little doubt that some of the woodwork came from the Abbey. Facing this is an arbour formed of a huge Jacobean mantel of carved oak, bearing in the centre the arms of the Borough of Evesham.
(High Street)
(High Street)
An eighteenth century romance attaches to this property. A young doctor, skilful, extravagant, and presumably attractive, won the hand of a Miss Cookes, who inherited the place from her father. After the death of his wife this physician, Baylies by name, being deeply in debt, and having mortgaged his property, disappeared. The house and garden were taken possession of by one of the principal creditors, who must have justified his claim, for the houselong remained in his family. The enterprising doctor was next heard of in Prussia, where he became court physician and adviser to the Emperor Frederick the Great.
Three old streets lead out of High Street. To the west, Magpie Lane ends in the river meadows; and to the east, Swan Lane and Oat Street reach the river at the Mill.
Vine Street is little more than a continuation of the Market Place towards Merstow Green; and its old name, Pig Market, shows that it was used in the same manner. Here, again, many of the old houses have been refronted, thus appearing of a much later date than they are in reality. The Georgian dislike of gabled irregularity is once more exemplified. But Vine Street is saved from becoming commonplace by the low line of buildings at the end, still known as the Almonry, and over which the Gatehouse, in spite of its dismantled and modernised state, still seems to keep guard.
Bridge Street is probably the most ancient of the streets. The houses on the south side have gardens reaching to the Abbey walls, a position which would add greatly to their security in early times, and the narrowness of the roadway also goes towards proving its antiquity. This must have been the most frequentedthoroughfare, leading as it did in old times to the ford, and afterwards to the bridge and the Abbot's mill beside it. Here were the oldest inns; and though all the house-fronts have been sadly modernised, either by the insertion of huge plateglass windows or in some less defensible manner, yet the eye still passes with pleasure from house to house, and the effect of the irregularity, heightened by the contrast of light and shade, is picturesque in the extreme.
Starting at the top we have on one side the old Booth Hall already described. On this side the bay windows projecting from the level of the first floor add much to the quaint effect. Almost opposite is "The Alley" continuing one side of High Street into Bridge Street and the Market Place. As seen from the High Street side this narrow passage between the shops retains much of its old character, and the windows with their wooden frames and mullions are worth notice. The house on the left next to the Bank with its prominent bay windows was at one time the town house of a family named Langstone, and it was here that King Charles the First stayed and held his "Court" in 1644. Almost opposite is a stately front of brick dating from the next century, of elegant proportions and with well-designed spouts. Further down on the right side is a much renovated gabled building of timber,possessing a fine doorway of the fifteenth century with its massive door and wrought-iron hinges intact. Almost next door is "The Crown," one of the old coaching inns with the courtyard opening on the street. At one time an open gallery ran round the first floor, and traces of this may be seen on the further side. A little above the old house we have just noticed was the White Hart Inn, the most celebrated house when country inns were in their prime. It is now in the occupation of a market gardener and has been much altered, but some of the passages and rooms are still to be seen in the back premises. An amusing story connected with the White Hart Inn has been revived by Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps, who by means of it has endeavoured to explain the line in "Troilus and Cressida." "The fool slides o'er the ice that you should break." The anecdote is related by Robert Armin, who claims to have been an eye-witness of the incident; and this would seem probable, as the local touches are correct and Armin was for some time a member of the company alluded to. It is to be found in a work entitled,Foole Vpon Foole, or Sixte Sortes of Sottes, published in 1605, and re-edited and issued, with the author's name attached, in 1608, asA Nest of Ninnies. The fool referred to in the line quoted above is suspected to be not merely the imaginary representativeof a type but the popular local Fool of Shakespeare's time, a fellow of brilliant parts, but eccentric, and, we must suppose, lacking in balance and common sense. We are told that one winter Lord Chandos's players visited Evesham, and Jack Miller, our Fool, became greatly attached to the company and in particular to Grumball the clown; indeed, so greatly was he enamoured that he "swore he would goe all the world over with Grumball." The townspeople being loth to lose so popular a character, Jack was locked in a room at the back of the White Hart Inn from which he could see the players journeying on their way to Pershore, their next stage, by the road on the farther side of the river. With difficulty he contrived to escape by the window, and ran down to the water's edge. The stream, says our author, "was frozen over thinely," but Miller "makes no more adoe, but venters over the haven, which is by the long bridge, as I gesse some forty yards over; yet he made nothing of it, but my hart aked when my eares heard the ise crack all the way. When he was come unto me," continues Armin, "I was amazed, and tooke up a brick-bat, which lay there by, and threw it, which no sooner fell upon the ise but it burst. Was not this strange that a foole of thirty yeeres was borne of that ise which would notendure the fall of a brick-bat?"! The fact that Robert Armin and William Shakespeare were fellow-actors at the Globe Theatre lends probability to Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps' elucidation.
Continuing our way beyond the Crown Hotel we see on our right, below the level of the street, a quaint row of gables with little shops below quite unchanged by the present conditions of trade. Passing onward towards the bridge we shall see to the best advantage the full effect of this most picturesque of streets.
Alas! that modern enterprise and modern requirements should have demanded the removal of such a bridge as fifty years ago spanned the stream in eight irregular arches. Here we have convenience, but will this condone for the charm of picturesqueness and long association? We cannot but mourn over the loss. From the bridge we look up the river to the weir, mill and water-meadows. On the right, by the yard not far up the stream, stood, in the troublous reign of King Stephen a castle; and from this fortress William de Beauchamp sallied forth, forcibly entered the Abbey, and carried away the goods of the Church. But an abbot in those days was quite equal to meeting a hereditary sheriff on his own ground. Abbot William de Andeville descended on the castle, took it, razed it to the ground, and consecratedthe site as a cemetery; no vestige of either castle or cemetery now remains. Old Bengeworth is hardly more than one long street, and there is little now to claim our attention. On the right side of the street, set back behind some iron railings, is a school founded early in the eighteenth century by John Deacle, a man of humble origin and a native of Bengeworth, who, moving to London became a wealthy woollen draper with a shop in Saint Paul's churchyard, and finally an Alderman of the City. In the new church is his tombwith an elaborate effigy in the costume of the period. Passing up the street we should turn before coming to the Talbot Inn and look back: from this point the irregular houses and roofs with the Bell Tower rising beyond make an attractive vignette. The old churchyard can be seen behind the Talbot Inn. The church is gone in favour of the modern and "handsome" structure which we saw before us as we turned out of the main street. Here are only the graves and the base of the old tower. Opposite the remains of the tower is an old stone house, once the manor, where a little chapel can still be seen in an upper room. Except the monument to John Deacle there is nothing in the new church to call forth our interest.
THE BELL TOWER FROM BENGEWORTH
THE BELL TOWER FROM BENGEWORTH
By pursuing our way past the old burial-ground, and taking the turn to the right we find ourselves in Cooper's Lane, associated with a family long connected with the borough. To our left is a pretty cottage, and beyond, seen among the trees but with outhouses abutting on the road, is the Mansion House, still retaining in every feature that old-world sense of remoteness and repose so precious in these days; like a backwater of a rapid river, lying unmoved while the stream of life rushes vociferously by; a veritable "haunt of ancient peace."
The lane leads us into the Cheltenham Road, and we should turn into the public Pleasure Grounds, or, better still, walk a few steps farther along the road, until we have passed them, in order to see the true situation chosen by the monks for their church and dwelling-place.
How dignified does the Bell Tower appear, with the twin spires, rising from the summit of the bank, above the willows which edge the fish ponds! And below in the smooth waters their image is reflected, broken and clear at intervals. All the morning does the sun glorify the scene, and beneath its intense rays the towers gleam white against the blue heavens. Every third hour the bells in Lichfield's tower play an old tune fraught with sweet memories. The horses browse in the meadows or stand beneath the shade of the tall elms. Often a brightly-coloured caravan is to be seen encamped near the ponds, and beside it a fire which sends a faint cloud of blue smoke up against the dark green of the foliage. Out come the children to play on the green slope, to fish in the ponds or gather flowers in the meadow below. An old barge, perhaps, lies under the bank, towed up with much labour from the Severn. Pleasure boats pass now and again, disturbing the water and breaking the reflections into a thousand fragments. Evening comes on; the sundeclines, and the face of the tower is dark against the glittering beams; the water receives the glow and reflects the radiance. Tower, spires, trees and landscape assume one sombre hue; clear cut against the sky their forms appear; and, as night falls, the single deep-toned bell rings out the "Curfew" across the silent vale.
Though lying outside the town, and separated from it by the railway, Green Hill is included within the limits of the borough, and forms part of the Evesham parishes. The hill is memorable on account of the well-known battle, described in the next chapter, in which Prince Edward gained the victory over Simon de Montfort, thus concluding the Barons' War. The exact site of the encounter is not known, but tradition points to a spot in the Abbey Manor grounds called Battlewell, on which it is averred de Montfort was slain; and the fight probably extended over a great part of the level plateau on both sides of the present main road.
Unfortunately Battlewell lies in private grounds, but the position may be seen from Clark's Hill. It lies a hundred yards to the left of the road nearly opposite a pretty thatched lodge, but cannot be seen from the highway.
Just beyond is a double cottage dividing the road into two, and on the right is a shady lane. This is Blayney's Lane, and,as already mentioned, it was once the London road; by pursuing it we come to the river meadows and Offenham Ferry. The main road runs straight on, and leads, through the village of Norton, to Alcester, Stratford, Birmingham, &c. The way to the left is the old Worcester road, and skirts the grounds of the Abbey Manor. If we take this lane and descend the hill we may turn sharply to the left near the bottom and return to the town by the "New Road"; or walk on a short distance with Wood Norton—the Duke of Orleans' house—on its wooded slope, in full view, and follow a lane on the left leading to Chadbury Mill.
The Abbey Manor, with its pretty grounds, is not open to the public. In addition to the beautiful views obtained from its walks and lawns it contains many treasures of local interest. Chief among these are fragments of columns, window tracery, sculpture, and other relics brought by an ancestor of the present owner, a noted antiquary, from the site of the Monastery. Here are carefully preserved a splendid abbatial chair richly carved and of great size, bearing the monastic arms, and in remarkable preservation; also two quaint effigies of men in plate armour fashioned in solid oak about three-quarters of the size of life. These figures stood on the face of the belfry tower, and, by turningon a pivot, struck the hours; they are in all probability coeval with that building.
In one of the shrubberies, hidden from public view, is an obelisk commemorating the fall of Simon de Montfort, and in the plantation near the lower road is a tower, like the house denoting the period of the late Georgian Gothic revival, and bearing the name of the Earl of Leicester.
When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose,Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;A leader of courage undaunted was hee,And oft-times he made their enemyes flee.At length in the battle on Eveshame plaineThe barons were routed and Montfort was slaine.
—THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN.
One of the treasures of the Abbey of Saint Mary and Saint Egwin at Evesham was the tomb of the great and popular hero Simon de Montfort. Such tombs were a source of much profit to the ecclesiastical institutions of those days. Hither pilgrims flocked in great numbers, particularly on the day specially devoted to the memory of the saint or martyr, and offerings were made proportionate to the wealth of the devotee. Not only was it supposed that spiritual advantages could be gained by devotion at these holy places, but cures innumerable were believed to have been worked through the intercession of the departed spirit. Hence the great monasteries often partook of the nature of our present-day hospitals, "the maimed, andthe halt, and the blind" thronging thither; and, if at first unsuccessful, trying shrine after shrine in the hope of eventual restoration to health.
Though de Montfort was not canonised as a saint and martyr, yet he appears to have been regarded in such a light by the common people, and among the archives of the Monastery was preserved a long list of accredited cures and miracles reported to have been worked at his tomb.
It was on the morning of Tuesday, August 4th, 1265, that the memorable battle, ending in the death of Simon de Montfort, was fought. Earl Simon was travelling on the previous day from the neighbourhood of Worcester to join his eldest son, also named Simon, at Kenilworth. With the Earl was King Henry the Third as prisoner or hostage, and on the night of Monday, the 3rd of August, the Earl and his retinue were received as guests in the Abbey, his army being quartered or encamping in the town.
Prince Edward, King Henry's eldest son, was in the neighbourhood with a large army, but his movements for some days past were unknown to de Montfort. On the Saturday before the arrival of the Barons' army at Evesham the Prince had surprised the younger Simon at Kenilworth, killed or taken as prisoners the greater part of his army, and seized allthe baggage and standards. The same day he had returned to Worcester and joined the Earl of Gloucester and Roger Mortimer, both leading considerable forces.
Thus we see the Earl, with his adherents, resting at Evesham, unconscious of the fact that, unaided, he must soon face three powerful foes. Next day saw his fate decided.
Early on Tuesday morning all was stir and bustle in the Monastery and in the little town. The troops were preparing to depart at daybreak towards Kenilworth, where father and son were to meet and arrange their future tactics. In the early dawn Nicholas, the Earl's barber, ascended one of the towers of the Abbey, and, gazing northwards, over Green Hill he descried soldiers bearing standards which were evidently those of the younger Simon. For a few moments joy prevailed at the thought of so happy a meeting; but this feeling soon gave place to anxiety and dread. Closer examination showed that though the standards were those of the Earl's son the soldiers who carried them were not Simon's but Prince Edward's followers. In a moment all was clear: the younger Simon had been defeated, perhaps slain, and de Montfort must fight single-handed or yield his cause ingloriously. Retreat over the bridge by which the armyhad entered the town was useless, for soon it became known that Roger Mortimer was following the route the barons had taken the day before, and would soon be on their rear. With the river on both sides of them, and both ways blocked by enemies, two alternatives alone presented themselves, to fight or to yield. To add to the hopelessness of their position the Earl of Gloucester, with his army, was now joining Prince Edward by the upper Worcester road. De Montfort knew that against such odds the fight would be a hopeless one, and urged his supporters to flee while there was yet time, and not to lose their lives in an unavailing struggle; but none would desert their leader in the hour of peril. "Then," exclaimed the Earl, "may the Lord have mercy on our souls for our bodies are in the power of our enemies."
It is recorded that on this fatal Tuesday all the elements seemed to unite in adding horror to the scene of carnage. Shortly before this a great comet had made men fear and wonder; and now, on this morning the sky was overcast with such dense clouds that the land was in darkness; so black were the heavens that nothing like it had been known within the memory of man. A violent tempest, with a delugeof rain and terrific thunder and lightning, swept over the country. The terrified monks could not see their books as they chanted the Psalms in the darkened choir, and as they sat in the refectory they could not tell what food lay upon their trenchers.
Meanwhile the battle raged on the hill above the town; desperately the barons fought, but, one by one, they fell overpowered by numbers. Though the earl was sixty-five years of age he fought "stoutly, like a giant, for the liberties of England" to the end.
We will not dwell on the horror of the battle. Popular tradition still points to the spot where the great leader was slain, and there, beside a spring called Battlewell, was placed a sacred rood. Two young de Montforts fell by their father's side, and many barons, knights, and common soldiers; but few fled. The stragglers from the defeated army were, many of them, slaughtered, as they attempted their escape; and by Offenham Ferry, where in those times probably stood a bridge, there is a meadow, once an island, which to this day bears the name of "Deadman's Ait." The chroniclers tell of the shameful mutilation of the earl's corpse, and how the limbs were distributed through the country, but the dismembered body was buried reverently by the monks in the most sacredpart of their church, even before the High Altar. The severed hands were sent by a servant to the wife of Roger Mortimer, at Wigmore Castle in Shropshire. They arrived, so says the legend, while the Mass was being celebrated, and, at the raising of the Host, they were seen, before the bag containing them was opened, clasped in the attitude of prayer above the head of the messenger. In fear and trembling, Lady Mortimer returned the bloody trophy.
Prince Edward himself attended the funeral of Henry de Montfort, his cousin and friend, in the Abbey church.
"Such," sings Robert of Gloucester, "was the murder of Evesham, for battle none it was."
As in the case of other national heroes of old times, popular fancy was allowed to play unfettered round the memory of this noble family. In the well-known ballad preserved by Bishop Percy, of "The Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green," it is imagined that Henry de Montfort was rescued at night from the field of battle while still living, by "a baron's faire daughter," in search of her father's body; that she nursed him, and that, on his recovery they married, their daughter being "prettye Bessee."
The miracles we read of, and to which reference has been made, are many andvaried. For some time the fear of royal censure and punishment prevented cures being openly attributed to "Saint Simon," but it was not long before the fame of his healing power spread, and persons were brought from all parts of the country to "be measured by" Earl Simon and restored to health. The process of "measuring" was as simple as it appears to have been effective. It merely consisted in a cord which had previously been placed round the relics being made to meet round the body of the invalid whether man or animal.
The first "miracle" we hear of concerns a dumb boy who fell asleep at the shrine of Saint Robert at Lincoln, whither he had been taken to be cured, and in this state he remained from the Saturday preceding the battle until the Monday, when, suddenly awaking, gifted with the power not only of speech but prophecy, he informed those who stood around that Saint Robert had gone to Evesham to aid Earl Simon who would be slain in the battle there on the morrow! The monkish manuscript goes on to relate cures of various diseases performed on man and beast, personal apparitions, "judgements" falling on scoffers, accounts of the dead restored to life and many other marvels credible or incredible according to the inclination of the reader. One of the "judgements"may be given as an example, showing, by the way, the manners of some of the clergy of that date.
A certain chaplain named Philip had been openly abusing the Earl, and by way of an oath exclaimed, "If he is a saint, as reported, I wish the devil may break my neck, or some miracle may befall me before I reach home." As he returned homewards, being on horseback, and a servant with him, he saw a hare on the road, and spurring onward in chase fell headlong from his horse. His manservant who had likewise abused Earl Simon "was seized by the devil" and remained insane "from the Feast of St. John the Baptist to the translation of St. Benedict."
In 1279 it is reported how, at Whitsuntide a man wheeled his wife, whose life was despaired of, from the parish of Saint Bride's in Fleet Street, London, all the way to Evesham in a wheelbarrow, to visit "Saint Simon's" relics.
For this brief account of the de Montfort miracles I am indebted to a paper by Mr. Oswald G. Knapp, and from the same source I transcribe the following translation of a hymn written in honour of the reputed "saint and martyr" which concludes the ancient chronicle:—