THE ANTIQUITIES &c.
The first thing which naturally engages our attention, in considering
the Antiquities of Bridgnorth, is the origin of its name. This, as
well as other names just as simple and intelligible, has afforded
matter for the ingenious speculations of etymologists, who, by a sort
of alchemy, of which they only are the masters, have transmuted it
into a form totally different from its own. For instance, some have
made it out that the name signifies the tower or castle on Morfe,
and that it was originally _Burgmorfe_, the first syllable of which,
“Burg,” being derived from the Greek word πυργος, ‘a tower’, the other
being the Saxon name of the neighbouring forest, which extended over
the large district still so called. But it is not easy to conceive,
how “Burg” should have been transmuted into “Bridge,” and still less
so, how “Morfe” should have been corrupted into “North.” The name is
a very plain one, and just as plain is its etymology; _Bridgnorth i.
e._ the north Bridge, or the bridge lying to the north of some other
bridge. In every ancient record it is called “_Brugge_” or “_Brug_,”
the Saxon form of the word “Bridge,” and there is no instance, I am
informed, of the syllable “North” being added to it, at least in any
public document, earlier than the reign of Edward I. Bridges in early
times were not so common as they are now, and therefore a place, which
had a bridge or bridges of any size, often took its name from this
circumstance. Thus Bruges, a town in Flanders, was so named, from the
numerous bridges over the canals, which intersect it; and Bridgetown,
near which the famous battle of the Boyne was fought, was so called
on account of the bridge, which there crosses the river. So our town
received its first name of “_Brug_” from the bridge, which here spanned
the Severn; and was afterwards called “_Bridgnorth_,” to distinguish it
from a bridge lower down the Severn, at Quatford.[1]
[1] There can be no doubt that there was in ancient times a bridge at
Quatford, for it is called in old writers, “Cwatbridge.” It was very
likely a wooden bridge, one pier of which stood on an islet in the
stream. In the very ancient map of Bridgnorth, and of its immediate
neighbourhood, which is in possession of the Corporation, (a copy of
which will be found in the present volume) this islet is marked out,
and called “Brugg Bylett,” or Island Bridge. The present Ferryman,
Richard Turley, very well recollects this bylet, and his having played
on it when a boy: it was nearly a quarter of an acre in size, and
covered with alders and willows. An old villager told the late Mr.
Smallman that he remembered beams of wood being raised from that part
of the river.
After the origin of the name, the next thing to consider is the
first foundation of Bridgnorth. There is no doubt that this is very
ancient, probably as ancient as the age of Alfred the Great. The
Saxon chroniclers inform us that Ethelfleda, the daughter of Alfred,
who inherited the magnanimity which has made her father’s name so
illustrious in the page of history, aided her brother Edward in
resisting the incursions of the Danes; and for this purpose erected
several forts and castles in different parts of the country, and among
these one at Bridgnorth.
It appears that the Danes, in A.D. 896, having been driven from their
settlements on the banks of the Thames, and their fleet having been
destroyed, retreated northward, and at last made their way to the
Forest of Morfe, adjacent to Quatford, where, as some writers record,
they entrenched themselves in a strong fortification.[2] We have proof
of their having been in this neighbourhood, from the fact that a place
between Bridgnorth and Quatford still bears the name of _Danesford_,
marking the spot, where no doubt these wild marauders found a passage
across the Severn, which passage they no doubt used in carrying on
their depredations on the east side of the stream. There is supposed
to be other local evidence of the Danes having settled for a time in
this neighbourhood, which is not without its interest. I refer to the
discovery, made by Mr. Stackhouse, formerly Incumbent of St. Mary’s,
of an ancient burial ground upon Morfe, which from its character he
supposed to be Danish.[3] The following account of it, together with
the subjoined sketch, is given in the 460th Number of the Philosophical
Transactions.
[2] “Aliâ excursione celeriter factâ in occiduas Angliæ partes
in oppido ad Sabrinam, nomine Quatbrigia (forte Quatfordia prope
Bridgnortham) quantâ poterant celeritate maximâ vallum sibi
conficiunt.”—_Spelman’s Life of Alfred the Great, B._ 1, 94.
“In great haste they departed their fortress, leaving their wives and
children to the mercy of the English, neither stayed they till they
came into the borders of Wales, where at Quatbridge upon Severn, they
built another castle.”—_Speed, B. VII., c._ 34.
[3] Mr. Hartshorne, in his _Salopia Antiqua_, (_pp. 91 and 101_)
expresses the opinion, that these tumuli were the work of the ancient
Britons, and not of the Danes. However, the same writer considers Burf
Castle, an earthwork situated on the summit of a hill, about a mile and
half east of Quatford, to be certainly Danish. (_pp. 210-12._)
[Illustration]
“In July, 1740, I observed upon Morfe the tumuli as above represented,
where the soil is a strong gravel. Mountfaucon tells us that the old
Cimbri, [the Danes,] were wont to throw up gravel on their graves, and
the more remarkable the persons were, the larger the tumuli over them.
I therefore imagined that this might possibly be the burying place of
the Danes. For satisfaction, I caused the middle and largest of these
tumuli to be dug from north to south, (a.a.) supposing that by that
method I might cross the site of the body that may have been laid
there. We dug about seven feet deep, even to the solid rock, without
meeting anything remarkable but an iron shell, in the shape of an
egg, with a round hole at one end; but so cankered and decayed, that
it easily broke into small pieces. This we judged to be the boss of a
sword. However, on viewing the trench that we had dug, we perceived on
the west side of it a hollow in the gravel, which upon trial extended
horizontally four or five feet; and under this hollow (b.b.) we found
one of the large vertebræ of the loins, with its processes pretty
perfect, but thoroughly petrified; and upon further search, several
portions of bones, all alike petrified, but so disguised that we could
not discover to what part of the body they belonged. We afterwards
opened one of the lesser tumuli, (c.c.) and found what is thought to
be the os sacrum, and many other small pieces of bone, in a petrified
state. It was great odds that we found nothing at all, but nature
favoured us by preserving some few tokens of antiquity.” Mr. Stackhouse
seems to have been disturbed in his archeological researches; for he
mentions that the people of Bridgnorth flocked in great numbers to the
spot, expecting to see great wonders, and to prevent further concourse,
he was glad to fill up the trenches, and to leave the other tumuli
unexamined.
From local and historical evidence then, it would appear that the Danes
took refuge amidst the forests[4] which then covered that extensive
district, and continued to hold possession of them for some time. But
this was the last scene of their struggle against the Saxons, during
the reign of Alfred. They were compelled after a while to leave these
fastnesses upon Morfe; and Shropshire, and soon after the whole of
England, was delivered from their rule. Then it was that Ethelfleda,
in concert with her brother Edward, in order to guard against any
attempts the Danes might make to regain their footing in the country,
built castles in those places which were most liable to be attacked.
One of these, as has been already mentioned, was erected at Bridgnorth,
or, as it was then called, “Brugge.” This establishes the fact, that
our town, whatever may have been its exact size and situation, existed
long before the Norman conquest, and that its foundation reaches back
more than nine hundred years. But it is a higher honor to the town
of Bridgnorth than even the great antiquity of its foundation, that
it is thus associated in its early history with the name of this
great princess—a name which poets and historians have justly made
illustrious—and that amid the dangers which threatened the nation, she
took such special means to provide for its defence.
[4] Vide Appendix A.
But what was the site of the castle which she erected at Bridgnorth?
This is a question of very great interest. Most of those who have
enquired into the subject have supposed it to be the eminence now
known by the name of _The Castle Hill_; but Mr. Eyton, (_Antiquities
of Shropshire, Vol. 1, part 4, pp. 131, 132_) whose sagacity equals
his learning on antiquarian subjects, has assigned to it a different
site, and has most probably discovered its true locality. Every one
has noticed, on looking westward from the Castle Walk, a very singular
mound of earth, about two hundred yards distant, the regular shape
of which plainly proves it to be artificial. It is now known by the
name of “Pam-pudding Hill.” This Mr. Eyton considers to be the site
of Ethelfleda’s castle, and supports his assertion on the following
grounds. A document is extant, of the date of Edward I., in which the
road beneath this hill is called the road underneath “the Old Castle.”
Now the castle on what is at present called the Castle Hill, was in
the time of Edward I. the existent and garrisoned castle of the town:
so that the “Old Castle” must have been a term denoting some fortress
of a more ancient date; and as we have no record of any earlier castle
but that built by Ethelfleda, this, which bore in the reign of Edward
I. the title of the “Old Castle,” must have been hers. It is to be
observed also, that the hill, called “Pam-pudding Hill,” is situate in
the parish of Oldbury, a word which plainly signifies “_Old Borough_;”
and as Ethelfleda attached a borough to the castles which she built,
there can be no doubt that the neighbouring village of Oldbury, however
small its circumference at present, has the honor of being the original
borough, having the site of the ancient castle erected by this Saxon
princess within its borders; and that Bridgnorth at the time was little
better than an appendage to it.[5]
[5] That Oldbury is more ancient than Bridgnorth appears from the fact,
that the former is mentioned in Domesday Book, and the latter is not
noticed.
But in less than two centuries after the erection of this fortress,
Bridgnorth became a place of consequence; the commanding position on
which it stood, and the strong natural defences of the place, marking
it out to the eye of a very bold and ambitious nobleman of the day, as
a situation eminently fitted for a fortified castle. This nobleman was
Robert de Belesme, the son and eventual successor to the English titles
and estates of Roger de Montgomery, first Earl of Shrewsbury. Roger was
a kinsman of William the Conqueror, as well as a very faithful vassal;
and when William became possessed by conquest of this fair realm of
England, he liberally rewarded his services by the grant of a very
large share of territory in the conquered kingdom. He conferred on him
the Earldom of Shrewsbury, with a feoff of four hundred and six manors,
in which Quatford is included.—(_Blakeway’s History of Shrewsbury, Vol.
1, p. 37, note 3._) This he appears to have chosen as his favourite
place of residence, perhaps on account of the opportunity it afforded
him of indulging his Norman propensity for hunting; for the forest of
Morfe was close adjacent to it. Here he not only built a castle,[6]
but also built and endowed a Collegiate Church, and founded a borough.
All these however, the privileges of the borough, the garrison of
the castle, and the chief endowments of the church, his son Robert
de Belesme transferred to Bridgnorth. But the foundation of Quatford
Church is an historical event of so much interest, and is so intimately
connected with the early history of Bridgnorth, that it deserves more
than a passing reference.
[6] The remains of this castle were still standing when Leland visited
Shropshire, in the time of Henry VIII.—“Quatford is by S. E. from
Bridgnorth on Severne, where as yett appeare great Tokens of a Pyle
or Manour Place, longing that tyme to Robert de Belesme.”—_Leland’s
Itinerary, Vol. IV., pp. 103, 104._
The following is the substance of the narrative of the event given
by John Brompton, an ancient chronicler, who lived in the reign of
King John:—In the year 1082 Roger de Montgomery married his second
wife, Adelissa, daughter of Ebrard de Pusey, one of the chief nobles
of France. As she was sailing into England to join her husband, she
was overtaken by a dreadful tempest, from which the mariners thought
there could be no escape. In the midst of this furious storm one of
the ecclesiastics, who accompanied her, wearied with watching, fell
asleep; and in his sleep he dreamed that a female appeared to him, and
thus addressed him:—“If thy lady would wish to save herself, and her
attendants from the present danger of the sea, let her make a vow to
God, and faithfully promise to build a church in honour of the blessed
Mary Magdalene, on the spot where she may first happen to meet her
husband, the Earl, in England; especially where groweth a hollow oak,
and the wild swine have shelter.” The story goes on to state, that,
when he awoke from sleep, he communicated to his lady the particulars
of this singular dream, and that she at once made the prescribed vow.
The tempest soon calmed, and she and her attendants landed safely in
some port in England, from whence she immediately made her journey to
her husband’s estates in Shropshire; and just on the top of Quatford
hill, which was at that time in the outskirts of the Earl’s hunting
ground, and near a spot where an oak tree was growing, she met him,
engaged in his favorite pastime: and there at her request, in
fulfilment of her vow, he built a church and richly endowed it.[7]
[7] This narrative may possibly be somewhat tinctured with the
superstition which prevailed at the time; but there is no reason to
doubt the general truth of it. Mr. Eyton, to whom I am indebted for
my acquaintance with it, after giving the whole of the narrative in
detail, in Vol. 1, part 2, p. 107, of his Antiquities of Shropshire,
makes this comment on it:—“The whole of this narrative is credible in
itself, and minutely consistent with other ascertained facts; nor need
we take exception even to the Priest’s dream, for who knows not that
the feverish sleep of over fatigue will invest our hopes and anxieties
with some garb of life-like reality. Moreover this priest lived at a
time when priests were taught to believe in and to expect such special
revelations of the divine will.”
“Parts of this story nevertheless, require explanation; and the whole
of it must be tested by other facts and dates before we admit it to
that credence, which the details of a legend most seldom deserve.”
He has applied such tests, and has been fully satisfied with the result.
There are now on the high ground just above the church at Quatford,
several oaks whose gnarled and knotted trunks seem to have borne the
brunt of many centuries. They are evidently of a very ancient date. No
one can attentively observe them, without seeing that they must have
outlived several generations of men; and there can be but little doubt
that they are right in their conjecture, who suppose them to belong
to the original forest of Morfe. The supposition, that trees which
flourished in the time of William Rufus may be still standing, need not
be considered extravagant; for the history of the oak and yew tree[8]
in England furnishes many instances of equal longevity. “Among the
most remarkable of such trees,” says Mr. Wright, in his _History of
Ludlow_, p. 181, “in the neighbourhood of Ludlow, may be mentioned the
aged oak on the brow of the hill of Nonupton, or Nuns’ Upton, near the
village of Little Hereford, which was probably standing there previous
to the Conquest.... The tree is hollowed by decay, and its branches
mutilated by the effects of time.” An oak is at present growing in
Chepstowe Park, called the Parliamentary Oak, from the fact that Edward
I. convened his Parliament under it in 1290. Mr. Gilpin mentions a more
remarkable instance: “Close by the gate of the water walk at Magdalene
College, in Oxford, grew an oak, which perhaps stood a sapling when
Alfred founded the University. That period only includes nine hundred
years, no great age,” writes Mr. Gilpin, “for an oak. This oak could
almost produce historical evidence for its age. About five hundred
years after Alfred’s time, William of Wainfleet expressly ordered his
College to be founded near _the great oak_; and an oak could not well
be less than five hundred years old, to merit that title. In the summer
of 1788 it fell.” (_Gilpin’s Forest Scenery, Vol. 1, p. 141._) But a
much more ancient oak than even this a short time since was standing in
Stirling, one which there is reason to believe existed in the time of
the Druids, and which was so much decayed in the thirteenth century,
that William Wallace and several of his officers used to take shelter
at night in its hollow trunk. (_Forest Trees of Britain, by Rev. C.A.
Johns, pp. 80, 81._)
[8] There is a yew tree known to the writer, at present growing in the
church yard of Sampford Arundel, in the county of Somerset, but now
hollowed by age, respecting which there is certain evidence, that more
than a century has passed over it, without producing seemingly any
change whatever in its state of decay; it is now, to all appearance, as
it was more than a hundred years ago.
These facts are sufficient to show that it is by no means improbable,
that the oaks now standing in Quatford were originally trees in the
Forest of Morfe; if so, one of them may be the very tree which marked
out to the Countess Adelissa the spot, adjacent to which she was to
build the Church. Now among these oaks, one is of a very remarkable
character. Time has so completely decayed the middle part of the tree,
that the two portions of the trunk which remain have fallen asunder
one from the other, and thus appear at first sight as two separate and
distinct trees[9]—indeed, they are generally supposed to be so—but a
closer examination will disprove this. It will be noticed that the
bark is very much curled up, and if this could be unrolled, it would
be found to belong to a trunk, the circumference of which would include
the two parts now remaining.
[9] That a single tree may be so decayed by time as to be divided into
parts, and that these living parts may have the appearance of separate
trees, we have a remarkable proof in the famous chestnut on Mount Etna,
which was alive in the close of the last century.
Gilpin in his “Forest Scenery” has the following description of
it:—“It is still alive (1791), but it has lost much of its original
dignity. Many travellers take notice of it. Brydone was the last who
saw it. His account is dated about sixteen or seventeen years ago. It
hath the appearance of five distinct trees. The space within them, he
was assured, had been filled up with solid timber, where the whole
formed only one tree. The possibility of this he could not at first
conceive, for the five trees together contained a space of 204 feet in
diameter. At length he was convinced, not only by the testimony of the
country and the accurate examination of the Canon Recufero, a learned
naturalist in those parts, but by the appearance of the trees, none
of which had any bark on the inside. This chestnut is of such renown,
that Brydone tells us he had seen it marked in an old map of Sicily,
published an hundred years ago.”—(_B. 1., p. 135._)
[Illustration]
The above is a sketch of the tree in its present condition. Of course
it would be very absurd, as well as unwarrantable, to assert that
this is the hollow oak referred to in the narrative; but it is very
likely, from its appearance, that the tree has been hollow for very
many centuries; and this gives a degree of shadowy probability to
the conjecture, enough to invest the speculation with some amount of
interest.
The church which now tops the neighbouring hill is an object that
strikes every visitor of this district; and among the churches of
our native land there are few that rival it in beauty of situation.
But it is an object of great interest, not only on this account, but
also because it is, in some parts of the structure at least, the very
church which was built very nearly eight hundred years ago by Roger
de Montgomery, in ratification of his wife’s vow; and stands at this
distant day, a monument of the faithfulness of her promise. Those who
are skilled in archeological researches entertain no doubt, both from
its form and from the nature of the material used in its construction,
that a part of the chancel belongs to the ancient church of Quatford,
of the eleventh century.
It was a wild and unfrequented spot on which it stood when first
erected; but on the day of its consecration, this sequestered scene
was thronged with a vast concourse of people, and must have exhibited
a most imposing spectacle: for we learn from an ancient document,
that there assisted at the ceremony three Bishops, Woolstan, Bishop
of Worcester, then above eighty years of age; the Bishop of Hereford,
and the Bishop of Chester; six Archdeacons from neighbouring dioceses,
and other ecclesiastics; besides several nobles of high degree, each
with their accustomed attendants; and many officials and retainers of
the Earl of Shrewsbury. And when we remember the gorgeous manner in
which ceremonials of this kind were got up in the middle ages: when
knights and ecclesiastics, barons and prelates, each in his appropriate
costume, walked in solemn procession; when the pomp of heraldry and the
sacred insignia of the Church were united to do honor to the occasion,
we may judge what a striking and impressive scene was witnessed on the
day of the dedication of this church on the hill of Quatford. The Earl
richly endowed this church, constituted it a collegiate establishment,
built a castle[10] somewhere contiguous to it, and made a borough of
the surrounding district; but the borough, castle, and collegiate
establishment were soon after his death transferred to Bridgnorth; and
in this way the history of Quatford is connected with the early history
of our town.
[10] There is little doubt that this castle stood on the picturesque
rock which overhangs the Severn, near the Ferry. A few years since,
the late Mr. Smallman opened the trench which partly surrounds it, and
removed from it three hundred cart loads of rubbish; the whole of which
had evidently been thrown in from the inside, the strata lying in that
slanting direction; and underneath he found several Norman relics, and
fragments of the same stone of which the church was built; and as this
stone was brought from Gloucestershire, it affords a pretty plain proof
that the building of the church and castle were cotemporaneous.
We now come to consider more particularly the cause of this transfer,
and the building, fortifying, and garrisoning the Castle of Bridgnorth,
in the year A.D. 1102, by Robert de Belesme, the successor of Roger
first Earl of Shrewsbury. This nobleman was of a most restless and
ambitious spirit, and immediately after the death of William II.
entered into a confederacy with other Normans to dethrone Henry I,
and to set up his brother Robert Duke of Normandy in his stead, who
landed in England in order to further their undertaking. The scheme
was defeated by the promptitude and sagacity of the king, who came
to an accommodation with his brother, and induced him to return to
Normandy; and then he turned his hand against the chief conspirators.
After citing Robert de Belesme to appear before him, he publicly
proclaimed him an outlaw, and proceeded against him as such; first
laying siege to his castle at Arundel in Sussex. Meanwhile Belesme
had not been idle, but had set about building and fortifying a castle
in Bridgnorth.[11] He considered our hill rising in the midst of the
valley of the Severn, and strongly fortified on most sides by natural
defences, and commanding the adjacent country, as a fine military
position, entrenched within which, he might for a long time, at least
till succour was sent him by the confederates, hold out against the
royal forces. He therefore engaged in this work with great vigour, and
accomplished it with incredible speed. He had indeed no time to lose;
but he completed the work in less than a year, before the king could
disengage himself from his other enterprises, so as to allow of his
following him to Bridgnorth. Florence of Worcester, in his Chronicle,
states that he hastened the completion of this work, carrying it on
night and day, and that he excited the Welshmen, who were in subjection
to him, to the more faithful and speedy performance of his wishes, by
awarding to them with a liberal hand, honours, lands, horses, asses,
and all sorts of gifts. (_p. 324_, A. D. 1803, _English Translation_.)
When we consider the strength of the Castle, and the solidity of its
structure, it is quite marvellous that it could have been raised and
fortified within so short a space of time. We may judge of the solid
character of the building, by the only fragment which now remains of
it, which is of the most massive kind of masonry.
[11] Appendix B.
It is difficult at this time to ascertain the exact dimensions of the
castle; but this description of it by Leland, an antiquary of the time
of Henry VIII, may give us some conception of what it was originally.
“The Castle standeth on the south part of the town, and is fortified
by east with the profound valley instead of a ditch. The walls of
it be of great height. There were two or three stronge wardes in the
castle, that now goe totally to ruine. I count the castle to be more in
compasse than a third part of the town. There is one mighty gate by the
north of it, now stopped up; and a little postern made by force thereby
through the wall, to enter into the castle. The castle ground, and
especially the base court, hath many dwelling houses of timber in it,
newly erected.” It occupied, no doubt, a large portion of what is now
called the Castle Hill; but its outworks and walls must have extended
much farther. It is very likely that the gully, which now forms the
passage of the Stony Way, was originally an artificial fosse or ditch,
made for its defence in that direction. It is also in the memory of
many, that there stood, on or near the site of the new Town Hall, a
part of an ancient arch, which was evidently connected with the old
castle, and perhaps formed its northern gateway, or the smaller postern
which Leland mentions: so that its extent must have been considerable,
and its different appendages have occupied a large space of ground.
[Illustration]
The above is a representation of the arch referred to, as it stood some
years ago, and I believe very faithfully portrays it.
But nothing perhaps can give us a truer notion of the extent of the
Castle of Bridgnorth, and of the magnitude of the building, than the
great sums of money which were from time to time expended on its
repair. We may thus judge of the cost of its first erection. There are
existing documents, which shew that from the reign of Henry II. to
that of Henry III., there was a sum of money laid out in additions and
repairs, amounting to more than £14,000 of modern currency.
It must indeed have been a most noble structure; and standing on such
a commanding eminence, overlooking the course of the Severn in both
directions, must have been almost without its equal. The traveller,
as he came suddenly on the view of it from the Hermitage Hill, must
have been struck with the beauty of the scene, in which it formed so
prominent an object; and an enemy approaching it, from almost any
quarter, might well be daunted by the remarkable strength of its
position. One cannot but deeply regret the unnecessary and wanton
demolition of it by the Parliamentary forces, in the Civil Wars. Had
the ruthless soldiers of Cromwell been contented with dismantling it
and taking away its defences, and reducing it as a fortress, it would
still, crowning the hill, have formed, in its dismantled condition,
one of the most picturesque ruins in England, and made our town a
centre of attraction to the lovers of antiquity. The sole remaining
fragment of this noble castle is indeed one of the curiosities of
Bridgnorth, for, like the leaning tower of Pisa, it is considerably
out of the perpendicular; but the chief interest belonging to it, is
its being the last relic of the famous feudal fortress of Robert de
Belesme, and its having been not only a military garrison, but also a
royal residence at several eventful periods of English history.
After Belesme had with such astonishing dispatch built and fortified
this castle, he garrisoned it with stipendiary soldiers, and placed
it under the command of Roger, son of Corbat; but he himself, on the
approach of the King, retired to Shrewsbury, where he prepared to
make a vigorous resistance. The King advanced on Bridgnorth, and laid
siege to the castle. It is plain, from the numerous forces which he
collected on the occasion, that he considered this enterprise one of
some difficulty. The Saxon chronicle states that “he went _with all
his army_ to Bridgnorth, and resided there till he had the Castle.”
(_English Translation, p. 146._) And Florence, of Worcester, records
the same event in these words: “he himself besieged Bridgnorth, with
_the army of nearly all England_.” Even if we take these words in
a qualified sense, they shew what vast preparations the King made
for this siege, and what a large military array the fields around
Bridgnorth must have exhibited on this occasion: nearly all the
forces which the sovereign could assemble—legions of Norman and Saxon
soldiers—hosts of infantry, horsemen, spearmen, and archers—accompanied
by siege trains, such as were then in use—led on also by gallant
knights, the flower of England’s chivalry—and animated by the presence
of the King himself. The little garrison within the Castle, when they
looked down from their walls on this formidable host, as they were
crossing the Severn, or winding their way beneath the base of the hill,
must have felt great confidence in the strength of their position,
not to have been ready to surrender on the first summons. But they
held out for three weeks, when an incident occurred which for a while
interrupted the siege.
The nobles who followed the King were unwilling that he should crush
so powerful a feudal Lord as Belesme, lest the regal power over the
vassal nobility might become excessive. On a day, therefore, when the
siege had made some progress, they held a meeting, in a field where
the royal army was encamped, and advancing to the King, proposed
that he should offer terms of accommodation to the Earl. But their
purpose had transpired, and the country gentlemen of Shropshire,
manifesting a spirit of loyalty, which happily has been transmitted
to their descendants, assembled on one of the hills which surrounded
the King’s camp, to the number of three thousand, and lifting up their
voice, as the old chronicler relates, exclaimed, “Sir King, regard not
what these traitors say: remember the repeated treason of this your
enemy—how often he has conspired against your life—and lay not aside
your purpose: storm the town. We will support you, and never leave
you till your foe is brought alive or dead to your feet.” Encouraged
by their loyalty, the King at once adopted vigorous measures, which
succeeded. He summoned Corbat and the other governors before him, and
swore, in the presence of his court, that if within three days they
did not surrender the castle, he would hang the whole of the garrison.
These threats had the desired effect. The garrison agreed to surrender:
they shut up the stipendiaries in one part of the castle, and opened
their gates to the King, who entered amid the acclamations of the
townspeople. Soon after the capture of the castle, the King set out for
Shrewsbury, in pursuit of Robert de Belesme; and having surmounted the
dangerous pass, as it was then considered, of Wenlock Edge, and cut his
way through the entangling forest which lay at its base, he laid siege
to Shrewsbury. But Belesme, alarmed at the bold and energetic movements
of the King, surrendered himself to his mercy.[12] His life was spared;
but he was banished to Normandy, and all his English estates became
forfeit to the crown. His history was afterwards marked by many
disasters, and at length he died in a prison at Warham Castle, where he
had languished some years in miserable captivity. Such was the wretched
issue of treachery and rebellion—such the bitter fruits of “vaulting
ambition”—such the consequence of setting aside that divine principle,
which is alike the safeguard of personal peace, as well as of public
tranquillity, “Fear God, honor the King.”
[12] “However odious Robert had now become; though his turbulent
and vindictive character had left him but few friends, the scene
which followed must have been affecting to those who could reflect,
if such there were, on the instability of human grandeur. On the
King’s approach to Shrewsbury, the Earl quitted the town, perhaps
for the last time; bearing himself the keys of the gates, he threw
himself at the Victor’s feet, acknowledging his treason, and sued for
mercy.”—_Blakeway’s History of Shrewsbury, Vol. 1, pp. 58-9._
The castle of Bridgnorth, after its surrender, became one of the
Royal Castles of England, and was occasionally made the residence of
Henry I. This is ascertained from the fact of some charters, granted
by him, being dated at “Brug”—Bridgnorth—and also from the Sheriff
of the County, by the King’s order, sending a quantity of wine into
the castle—a circumstance which was anticipatory of a royal visit.
(_Eyton’s Antiquities of Shropshire, Vol. 1., pp. 246-7._)
But after an interval of about sixty years, Bridgnorth Castle sustained
a second siege, in the reign of Henry II, conducted by the King in
person. It was at this time in the possession of Hugh de Mortimer, one
of the adherents of the late usurper, King Stephen. On the accession
of the new monarch, he caballed against him, and having fortified his
three Castles of Wigmore, Cleobury, and Bridgnorth, prepared to bid
defiance to the royal arms. The Castle of Cleobury was soon taken
and destroyed, but the Castle of Bridgnorth held out for more than
two months, when it was compelled to surrender to the besiegers. Two
circumstances are connected with the narrative of this siege, which are
not without interest. Some charters were granted by the King while the
siege was carrying on, the subscribing names of the witnesses to which
shew that Henry on this occasion was attended by many persons of high
rank, both civil and ecclesiastical. Among these appears the name of
one, who is as conspicuous in the annals of English history as perhaps
any other individual, and who by his ambitious pretensions, seconded
by abilities of a very high order, and a dauntless spirit, disturbed
the reign of Henry II. more than all his foreign enemies, and for the
murder of whom the King was obliged to perform the most humiliating
penance at his tomb—the famous Thomas á Becket. A charter granted to
Stoneleigh Abbey, and dated, “Apud Brugiam in obsidione”—at Bridgnorth
during the siege—is signed by Thomas á Becket, as one of the witnesses;
(_Antiquities of Shropshire, Vol. 1, pp. 249-50_) so that if any of
our townsmen should make a pilgrimage of curiosity to his shrine at
Canterbury, it may add somewhat to its interest to know, that this
renowned ecclesiastic was present with the royal forces at Bridgnorth,
during the second investment of the Castle.
The other circumstance to which I refer is an act of devoted loyalty
on the part of one of King Henry’s attendants, which is said to have
taken place at this siege. While the King was directing the operations
of the assault, one of the garrison from the walls of the castle
aimed an arrow at him. The shaft sprung from the bow, and was so well
directed, that it would have pierced the breast of the King, had not a
Knight,[13] observing the danger, and seeing no other mode of averting
it, immediately stepped before the King, and received the arrow in his
own body, and died at the feet of his sovereign:[14] an instance of
generous valour, which is not without its parallel in modern history. I
refer to an incident which took place at the battle of Ferozeshaw, in
India, about ten years since. The Commander-in-chief, the noble hearted
Lord Gough, seeing a part of his line stagger under the fire of the
enemy, bethought him if he could direct even a portion of the cannonade
for a few moments to another point, the crisis of the battle would be
passed. He forthwith rode forward, attended by a single aid-de-camp,
and making himself prominently conspicuous to the Sikh gunners,
moved slowly to one side, as if for the purpose of reconnoitering the
entrenchments close at hand. In an instant almost every gun in the
battery was turned upon him. The shot ploughed up the dust about him,
so as well nigh to hide both himself and his horse from the enemy’s
view, yet not one took effect; and so complete was the diversion, that
the line of infantry felt as if relieved, and with a shout sprang
forward. The next moment saw the redoubt, with all the artillery which
it contained, in their possession. (_Quarterly Review, No._ CLV, _p.
205_) The heart of this British General at the battle of Ferozeshaw,
and of the Norman Knight at the siege of Bridgnorth, were animated with
the same spirit of dauntless gallantry. They were both cast in the same
mould of ancient chivalry.
[13] It is generally supposed that this Knight was Hugh de St. Clare;
but Mr. Eyton proves that it could not have been he, if the transaction
took place at the second siege of Bridgnorth Castle, as his death did
not occur till after that date.—_Vol 1, p. 248, note 19._
[14] It is very remarkable that King Henry II. was saved from death
on another occasion by a singular accident, as he was entering the
town of Limeoges, in Normandy. “From the Castle,” Daniel narrates, “is
shot a barbed arrow, which had tooke him directly in the brest, had
not his horse, by the sudden lifting up his head, received it in his
forehead.”—_Collection of the Historie of England, p. 91._
There are no public documents, I believe, of much interest, which
refer to Bridgnorth during the reign of Richard I; but there are very
frequent notices of it in the reign of his successor King John. He
visited the town on several occasions. It has been observed respecting
this king, that nothing could show more plainly the unsettled state
of the realm of England during his reign than his moving about so
continually, as he did, from one part of the kingdom to another; for
during the whole of the eighteen years of his reign he scarcely ever
remained more than a few days in one place. (_Wyld’s History of Ludlow,
p. 134._)
The frequent disturbances which occurred on the Welsh borders drew
him into Shropshire, and it was on these occasions that he visited
Bridgnorth. He was here, for instance, in the year 1200; and again
four years afterwards. On the latter occasion he was attended by a
splendid retinue. There were in his train the Bishops of Lincoln and
of Hereford—the Earls of Essex, Pembroke, Chester, Salisbury, Warren,
Lancaster, Warwick, and Hereford: also the Provost of Beverley, and
Hugh de Nevil, and William Briwere; and it may give us some idea of
the extent of Bridgnorth Castle in those days, that it could afford
accommodation not only to the King and his immediate attendants, but to
so large a train of noblemen and knights, and lodge within its walls
the retainers of so numerous a Court. King John had not at this,
or at any other period of his reign, much occasion for holding high
festivities, yet it appears that he indulged in them at this visit to
Bridgnorth Castle; for although the visit lasted but three days it cost
the King, what in our currency would amount to £2000. There is a writ
extant, dated 1204, by which the King orders his treasurer to pay back
that sum to the Sheriff of the County, for expenses incurred during his
visit at Bridgnorth.—(_Antiquities of Shropshire, Vol. 1, p. 265._)
He was again at Bridgnorth in the month of August, 1212—a very
calamitous period of his reign—when the kingdom was placed under
the Papal Interdict, and his subjects absolved from their oath of
allegiance; and the extraordinary rapidity of his movements in
various directions at this time—almost incredible if it were not
fully authenticated—shews the restless anxiety of his mind under the
embarrassing circumstances in which he was placed. For instance, in the
month of May he was in Hampshire; two months later, we find him at
Bristol, July 26th; on the 27th, at Devizes, in Wiltshire; on the 29th,
at Winchester; at Marlborough on the same day; at Tewkesbury on the
day following; the next day at Worcester; the next day at Bridgnorth;
in the heart of Powis land on the 2nd, where he stormed and levelled
to the ground the famous Castle of Mathraval; and then back again to
Bridgnorth. These expeditious movements and energetic exploits of King
John shewed that he inherited some of the vigour which characterized
the noble race of the Plantagenets, to which he belonged, though
usually this native energy was kept in abeyance, probably by an almost
unceasing consciousness of crime. (_Antiquities of Shropshire, Vol. 1,
pp. 268-9._)
In this hurried journey of the King from Worcester to the Welch
borders, through Bridgnorth, it is curious to notice the variety of
things which he thought it necessary to have conveyed with him, most
of which, however, he was obliged to leave behind him in Bridgnorth
Castle. First it is mentioned, that the sumpter horse, which carried
the King’s bed on this occasion, failed, and not being able to
proceed further, was left here. Also there were in his train two
valets—grooms of his bed chamber, with their horses and attendants—the
King’s falconer, with his hawks—and two carters and four sumpterers,
who carried the King’s wardrobe. All these accompanied his march no
further. It also appears that some coffers, containing certain sacred
relics, which accompanied the Court on all ordinary journeys, were left
at Bridgnorth on this occasion. One certainly would not have thought
it at all likely, that the King on this important expedition—pursuing
his Welch enemies in such eager chase—would have provided himself
before setting out with means for engaging in the less warlike sport of
hawking; or that he would have thought of any kind of pastime, when he
had such weighty business on hand. And when his sumpter men and horses,
so well laden, halted at Bridgnorth, it must have somewhat astonished
the loyal people of the town, to see such large appliances and means
for the King’s amusement, under the perilous circumstances of the
times.
It was more however in character with this King, that he should
have brought along with him in his march the religious relics above
referred to; and that he should have given directions for them to be
treated with superstitious reverence. A document is extant, which
shews that over these, during the three days that they remained at
Bridgnorth, wax candles were burnt at the King’s expense.—(_Antiquities
of Shropshire, Vol. 1, p. 269._) In King John, as in the case of many
others, there was a strange combination of the most immoral principles,
nay, of the most criminal passions, with the strictest regard to
superstitious observances. At the very time that he was pursuing a
course of wickedness, which made his name hateful to his subjects, he
was practising severe austerities on himself, which he would not allow
himself to omit, without making atonement for the neglect,[15] and
going through a round of rites and ceremonies, with all the zeal of an
earnest devotee. It was but a short time after his visit to Bridgnorth,
where he had observed this childish ceremony of illuminating these
relics with wax candles—supposing he was thereby offering to God
acceptable service—that he committed that merciless act of cruelty in
the town of Nottingham, of sentencing to death thirty-two of the Welch
hostages, which had been delivered him at the late peace; and such an
eager desire for vengeance did he manifest on the occasion, that he
would not taste of food till he was assured that the bloody deed was
done.
[15] One of the days on which King John was at Bridgnorth happened
to be a fast day, notwithstanding which, he, being wearied most
probably with his incessant marches, ate twice; for which supposed
offence he atoned by feeding a hundred paupers with bread, fish,
and beer.—(_Antiquities of Shropshire, Vol. 1, p. 269._) His
scrupulosity in this matter is the more remarkable from the fact,
that however important the scriptural exercise of fasting may be on
certain occasions, yet it has always been dispensed with under the
circumstances in which John was then placed—viz: taking a fatiguing
journey.—(_Bishop Taylor’s Works, Vol. 3, p. 170._)
King John was again at Bridgnorth, two months after the memorable event
of his signing _Magna Charta_. This great constitutional charter of
England’s liberties the Barons had compelled the King to grant; but the
faithless monarch no sooner thought that he could do so with impunity,
than he revoked it; the Pope acting as an accomplice of his perfidy,
by absolving him from his oath. This threw the kingdom into a state
of universal confusion, and civil war raged from one end of it to the
other. It was about this time that the Burgesses of Bridgnorth began to
fortify their town with a wooden rampart, (a caution suggested no doubt
by the troubles of the time) and a large allowance of timber from the
Forest of Morfe was made to them for that purpose.[16] Historians give
a dreadful picture of the state of the nation at this period. The King
having levied a band of mercenaries, commenced hostilities against his
own subjects, and marching through the whole extent of his kingdom laid
waste the provinces on each side of him, and by fire and sword made as
wide a devastation in England as if it had been an enemy’s country.
It was towards the close of this destructive progress, and about two
months before his death, that King John visited Bridgnorth for the last
time. During his short stay of two days he issued several charters,
and then proceeded to Worcester, afterwards to Gloucester, and from
thence to Newark; where—either from the pressure of extreme fatigue, or
great anxiety of mind, or as some naturally enough suppose, from the
effects of poison—this unhappy monarch died, and “freed his kingdom,”
as the historian well observes, “from the dangers to which it was
equally exposed, by his success, or by his misfortune.” [_Hume, Vol. 2,
p. 92._]
[16] Appendix C.
In the reign of his son and successor Henry III., Bridgnorth was as
frequently honored by a royal visit, as it had been in the previous
reign. Henry III. had frequent occasion to come into Shropshire, on
account of the dispute which had arisen between him and Llewelyn,
Prince of Wales: sometimes for the purpose of entering into negotiations
with him, and sometimes for the purpose of repelling his incursions
by force of arms. It was on one of these occasions, September 1st,
1226, that the King, who had just left Bridgnorth, issued a royal
edict at Kidderminster—one not of any historic interest, but of great
local value; and one which the people of Bridgnorth, and of the
neighbourhood, are glad at this day to take advantage of—viz: an edict
which established St. Luke’s Fair in this borough. It ran in these
words, “The King grants, till he come of age, that the men of Bruges
may have an annual fair, to last for three days—viz: the vigil, the
day, and the morrow of St. Luke the Evangelist.”—[_Antiquities of
Shropshire, Vol. 1, p. 302._] So that those who assemble at this annual
mart of butter and cheese, to make their purchases for the winter, may
bear in mind that they do so in virtue of a royal edict passed in the
thirteenth century, and that the fair which they keep is consequently
of more than six hundred years standing.
In the month of April of the following year, 1227, King Henry renewed
to the Burgesses of Bridgnorth the Charter[17] which had passed
the Great Seal in the previous reign; but on the 20th of June in
the same year, he granted them a totally new one, which differed
from the original charter principally in this, that it conferred
on the Corporation the fee-farm of Pendlestone Mills, or, as they
are now called, “The Town’s Mills.” The clause in the charter
which made over this property to the Corporation of Bridgnorth, is
as follows:—“Moreover we have granted to our aforesaid Burgesses,
that they and their heirs may hold in fee-farm for ever our Mill at
Pendlestone, without the town of Bruges, upon the river Wurgh, with
suit of the town of Bruges, and all other its appurtenances; rendering
therefore to us and to our heirs yearly, by their own hand, at our
Exchequer £10—viz: at the feast of St. Michael, one hundred shillings,
and at Easter, one hundred shillings.”—[_Antiquities of Shropshire,
Vol. 1, p. 303._] In virtue of this clause in the ancient charter
of Henry III, the Town’s Mills are the property of the Borough, the
Corporation being the Landlords of them, and the custom of paying a
yearly rent to the Crown is still continued.
[17] Appendix D.
In the year 1265 Bridgnorth was visited by King Henry, and his
gallant son Prince Edward, afterwards Edward I, on a very memorable
occasion, and one connected with events of such historic interest that
it deserves particular notice. The reign of Henry III was greatly
disturbed by the rebellious proceedings of Simon de Montfort, son of a
well known Italian nobleman of that name, who had rendered himself so
famous by his cruel crusades against the Albigenses. Simon de Montfort,
the younger, came into England to take possession of the estates, which
his father had left him, about the middle of Henry’s reign, and he
was graciously received by the King; but although the King shewed him
many favors, and united him in marriage to one of the royal family,
he soon raised a rebellion against him, and threw the kingdom into
the same state of miserable confusion, which prevailed during the
previous reign. In a successful battle, which he fought at Lewes, he
got possession of the persons of the King and Prince Edward, and in
consequence became virtually master of the whole realm. But during
this eclipse of the King’s fortunes Shropshire faithfully adhered to
the royal cause, and maintained throughout this disastrous period its
character for loyalty.
Among the Barons, who proved their fidelity to the King’s declining
cause, the Constable of Bridgnorth, Hamo de Strange, was pre-eminent.
He held the Castle in spite of de Montfort’s imperious summons to
surrender; and though repeatedly commanded by the usurper in the
King’s name to yield, and to leave the kingdom, he bade defiance to
the mandate, and bravely maintained his post, till the great victory
at Evesham over the rebels restored the monarchy.—[_Antiquities of
Shropshire, Vol. 1, p. 285._] In this famous battle Prince Edward, who
had a short time before escaped from the hands of de Montfort, led the
army of the Royalists, and by his consummate military skill, as well
as by his signal valour, completely routed the rebels. De Montfort,
their leader, observing the skilful disposition of the Prince’s forces,
is reported to have exclaimed, in utter despair of the fortunes of
the day, “The Lord have mercy on our souls, for I see our bodies
are the Prince’s.” These gloomy forebodings were fully verified. In
the fierce encounter, which ensued, De Montfort was slain with his
eldest son, and about a hundred and sixty knights, and many other
gentlemen of his party, and his army put completely to the rout, so
that the Prince was left undisputed master of the field. It was not
long after this memorable action, that the people of Bridgnorth, and
their loyal constable, had the high honor of receiving into their town
the King, the Queen, the gallant Prince, and other members of the
royal household. It appears from some ancient documents, that great
preparations were made for their reception on this occasion; and that
the grand victory of Evesham, which brought about the restoration
of the Monarchy, and the overthrow of a tyrannical usurpation, was
celebrated within our Castle walls with festive rejoicings.—[_p. 258._]
It also appears that the loyalty of the Burgesses during the season
of the adverse fortunes of the King, and the losses which they had
incurred in consequence, did not pass unnoticed. The King liberally
rewarded them. The official papers which attest this, allege as the
reason for the royal bounty “the losses which they [the Burgesses of
Bridgnorth] had sustained in the time when the kingdom was disturbed,
and because they faithfully adhered to the King, and to Edward, his
son, in the time aforesaid.”—[_p. 309._]
The wise and energetic measures, which Edward adopted, when he
succeeded to the throne, put an end to the civil dissensions by which
the kingdom had been so long distracted; and this circumstance, as well
as his having finally annexed the Principality of Wales to the British
crown, prevented the necessity of his making those military expeditions
into the border counties, which had been so customary in the reigns of
his predecessors. But Edward II. proved as feeble as his father had
been vigorous in his government of the kingdom, and the consequence
was, that in a short time after his accession the realm was disturbed
by a renewal of intestine feuds, and rebellion soon raged from one end
of the kingdom to the other. A second confederacy of the Barons against
the king, which was formed for the purpose of enforcing on him the
banishment of his favorites, the Despencers, took place in the year
1321, and this brought about another siege of Bridgnorth Castle.
The circumstances which led to it were these:—The Earl of Baddlesmere,
who owed all his honors, and the largest part of his ample estates
to the bounty of the king, joined the factious Barons in their
rebellion, and, adding insolence to ingratitude, proceeded so far as to
countenance a great affront offered to the queen. She having occasion
to pass his Castle of Leeds, in Kent, desired a night’s lodgings within
its walls, and was refused admittance, and some of her attendants
were wantonly killed before the gate. Edward shewed more promptitude
and energy in revenging this wrong, than in any other action of his
reign. He marched immediately with some forces to Leeds Castle, which
he took, and executed the governor, and having secured Baddlesmere’s
treasures, pursued him to his estates in Wiltshire, and from thence,
after a while, to his estates near Shiffnal. The confederate Barons,
taking alarm at the victorious progress of the King, assembled their
forces to besiege Bridgnorth. They burnt part of the town and took the
Castle, in the hope, that being masters of this important post, they
would be able to check the further advance of the royal army. But they
did not long keep possession of it. The King came here in person at the
head of his army, and after a brief siege retook the fortress from the
rebels, and from thence marched in triumph to Shrewsbury, where the
Burgesses, to grace the triumph of their sovereign, came forth to meet
him, clad in armour, and where the chiefs of the insurgent Barons, the
two Mortimers, were obliged, as humble supplicants at his feet, to sue
for mercy.
Five years after the date of this triumph the King was here again, but
under very different circumstances. The aspect of his fortunes had
become completely clouded, and the hopes, that had flushed his breast
as he crossed the Severn in pursuit of his discomfited enemies, were
exchanged for bitter disappointment and anxious forebodings; and he
entered our Castle on this occasion, not as a victorious general, or an
acknowledged king, but as a fugitive and an outlaw, on whose devoted
head a price was set. His faithless Queen, who added political treason
to private criminality, had joined in a conspiracy with Mortimer and
other disaffected Barons, and had summoned a parliament for the purpose
of deposing her husband. The act of deposition was easily passed. The
king was virtually dethroned, and feeling, as well he might, that his
life was in jeopardy, he anxiously looked out for some place of refuge,
where he might remain in safety till his friends brought him succour;
and judging from its position and its strong natural defences, that
Bridgnorth Castle would afford him a secure retreat, he took refuge
in it. This circumstance is recorded by an ancient historian,[18]
who mentions that in this dangerous crisis of his affairs, when he
had reason to dread personal violence from his enemies, the unhappy
monarch resolved to betake himself to some well fortified place, where
he might be safe till his friends should send him succour; and that
he chose Bridgnorth as admirably adapted to the purpose. Therefore,
after nightfall, he left his place of concealment, wherever that may
have been, and entered into a small boat with a few of his attendants,
and having crossed the Severn took refuge in our Castle. How long
our loyal fortress shielded him from the conspirators is not known;
but, after a time, they discovered his retreat, and dragged him from
it—took him prisoner first to Kenilworth, thence to Berkley Castle, in
Gloucestershire. The sequel is well known to every reader of English
history. After suffering from those, in whose custody he was placed,
every kind of indignity and insult which their malice could heap on
him, he died under the hands of merciless assassins, whom they hired to
despatch him, a death of extreme torture.
[18] Cum ad extremum omnia timeret, nec quicquam tam calamitosum
putaret quod non in suam fortunam cadere posse videretur, statuit in
locum aliquem munitum se abdere, ibidemque expectare, dum amici opera
et armis juvarent: itaque noctu cum paucis suorum per Sabrinam noviculo
vectus ad oppidum Brygnorthum in arcem, quæ ibidem egregie posita est,
clam recepit. _Polydore Virgil._ _Lib._ XVIII, _p. 357_.
Such was the catastrophe which closed the reign of Edward II.—a
reign so signalized by troubles, and so saddened by the personal
sorrows of the sovereign, as well as by public calamities, that the
affecting words, which Shakspeare has put into the mouth of one who
after a short time was the successor both of his honors and of his
misfortunes, might well have been adopted by Edward as his own:—
“In Winter’s tedious nights sit by the fire
With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales
Of woeful ages long ago betid;
And ere thou bid good night to quit their grief,
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me,
And send the hearers weeping to their beds.”
_Richard II._, _Act_ V., _Scene 1_.
It must add to the interest with which we regard the remaining ruin of
our Castle, to reflect that when its walls and battlements were still
standing, it afforded shelter to the unhappy Edward in his hour of
need; and that Bridgnorth was the last place in his realm, where he
received the homage due to royalty, even in ruins.