It is now time to turn the attention of the reader to the Churches,
and other ecclesiastical establishments, which existed in former times
in the Borough of Bridgnorth. They were of great antiquity. The most
ancient of them was
[Illustration: The Church of Saint Mary Magdalene.[19]]
[19] The above sketch of the old Church of Saint Mary Magdalene is
taken from a print in the Taylor’s Buildings, Oxford.
This Church originally stood within the walls of the Castle, and was
a Collegiate Church, the members of which were five Prebendaries and
a Dean. “The which Deanery and Prebends,” to quote the words of John
Brompton, “the King indeed conferreth of his own right and custom;
although in nearly all other Collegiate Chapels the Deans, being
installed by the Sheriff at the King’s collation, and inducted into
corporal possession of the Deaneries, confer all Prebends in the same
Chapels, and install, induct, and visit the Prebendaries. But in the
aforesaid Chapel of Saint Mary Magdalene, the Dean confers no Prebend,
nor visits Prebend or Prebendary; but each in the corps of his own
Prebend, hath and exerciseth plenary jurisdiction, as well in things
spiritual, as in things temporal;” so that it was in an especial sense
a Royal Chapel; and the whole ecclesiastical district connected with
it, and subject to its Prebendaries, bore the title, which it still
retains, of _The Royal Peculiar and Exempt Jurisdiction of the Deanery
of Bridgnorth_. It was first founded, as has been already noticed,
at Quatford, and from thence transferred, with all its rights and
privileges, and the chief part of its endowments, to Bridgnorth, in the
latter part of the reign of William Rufus, or early in the reign of
his successor; so that it is a very ancient foundation—nearly seven
hundred and fifty years old.
The privileges connected with it were considered very important, and
were guarded with the strictest jealousy from all encroachments, not
only by the members of the chapter, but by the Crown. So much was
this the case, that in the year 1241, when some delegates of the Pope
attempted to levy contributions in the Deanery of Bridgnorth, as well
as elsewhere, for the See of Rome, they were opposed, as interfering
with the prerogatives of the Royal Peculiar; and this opposition the
Pope himself was obliged to sanction and ratify; for on the complaint
of the King, he issued two Bulls at Lyons, in which he recognises
the rights of the King’s free Chapel at Bridgnorth, and forbids all
attempts made to levy procurations from it.
The Deanery of Bridgnorth at this time was held by Peter de Rivallis,
of whom (although his course reflected no honor on his sacred calling)
it may be well to take a passing notice, inasmuch as his name stands
connected, not only with the early history of Bridgnorth, as being
Dean of the Peculiar, but with some of the important events in the
reign of Henry III. Peter de Rivallis was born at Poictou, and through
the influence of his uncle, the Bishop of Winchester, was introduced
into the English court, and was made Treasurer of the Chamber in the
King’s Household. He soon became a great favorite with his master, who
invested him, notwithstanding his clerical calling, with all the Royal
Castles in Shropshire. The confidence placed in him was unbounded, and
the favors heaped upon him almost without a parallel; for while he was
Dean of Bridgnorth and Constable of the Castle, a grant was made to
him of the Shrievalties of Shropshire and Staffordshire for life; also
of the counties of York, Berks, Gloucester, Somerset, Dorset, Devon,
Lancaster, Northumberland, Essex, Hants, Lincoln, Norfolk, Suffolk, and
Kent. These, and such like favors, profusely heaped upon his foreign
courtiers, tended to alienate the minds of his English subjects from
the King, and were specially resisted by Richard Marshall, Earl of
Pembroke. He and other English nobles entered into a confederacy with
Llewelin, Prince of Wales, and laid waste the county of Salop to a
considerable extent; and carrying their forage as far as the gates
of Shrewsbury, pillaged and burnt part of the town. This illustrious
nobleman who is called by ancient historians “the flower of chivalry,”
and who was more than a match for his enemies in the field, was at last
cut off by a base act of treachery, in which the Dean of Bridgnorth
bore the chief part. He, with others, forged a letter, as if sanctioned
by the King, and sent it to Ireland, announcing the forfeiture of the
Earl’s Irish estates, and promising a partition of them amongst those
who would arrest his person. This document however was not sufficient
to satisfy the Irish nobles, and they dispatched messengers, requiring
the King’s sealed charter on the subject. Peter de Rivallis forged the
required document, and attached the great seal to it; and the plan
completely succeeded. The Earl’s Irish possessions were invaded; in
consequence of which he crossed the Channel in order to protect them,
but in a skirmish, after having manfully maintained his ground against
fearful odds, he fell mortally wounded; and died in the hands of his
enemies, subjected in his last moments to every species of cruelty and
insult.
For this murder of the noble Earl of Pembroke (for it was nothing
less) the Dean of Bridgnorth was arraigned before the King and his
Justiciaries. He appeared on this occasion strangely habited for an
ecclesiastical dignitary; for he wore a corslet underneath his clerical
garment, and had a dagger suspended from his girdle, and appeared half
soldier, half priest. The King, assuming an appearance of anger which
he did not feel, for he secretly rejoiced at the death of the Earl,
accosted the Dean in very furious language, calling him a traitor, and
accusing him of having entered into plots which had brought damage and
disgrace on his kingdom. The Dean was sentenced to be committed to the
Tower; and when he pleaded his clerical orders, as a reason why he
should not be given up to the custody of a layman, the King answered,
reasonably enough, that he had always demeaned himself as a layman, and
as a layman he was now required to give an account of his stewardship:
and forthwith gave orders that all his lay possessions should be
confiscated.[20] His name certainly confers no honor on the Royal
Peculiar of Bridgnorth, of which he was Dean; but I thought it well to
give this brief sketch of his history, as reflecting the manners of
the age in which he lived, and as shewing in a very striking way the
miserable condition in which the Church was sunk at that period. It was
not then as it was afterwards, in Puritan times, when, according to the
lively author of _Hudibras_,
[20] This account of Peter de Rivallis, given by Mr. Eyton (in his
_Antiquities of Shropshire, Vol. 1, pp. 330, 334_), is collected from
the historian, Matthew Paris.
“The pulpit, drum ecclesiastic,
Was beat with fist, instead of a stick.”
Sharper and more formidable weapons were wielded in those days by men
in holy orders, and wielded at times to some purpose. It was doubtless
a sad perversion of the right order of things, when soldiers in
Cromwell’s army took upon them the office of divines; but it was a far
worse perversion, when divines became soldiers—when the tonsure was
covered with a plumed helm—when Bishops and Deans, like this famed Dean
of Bridgnorth, hid a coat of mail underneath their cassock, and wore
a dagger at their girdle—when Dignitaries of the highest rank, as was
not seldom the case, led out armies to the field, and, sword in hand,
mingled in the thickest of the fight.
But the case above referred to, of Peter de Rivallis, is not the only
one, which affords evidence of the existence of such a state of things,
in early times, in the Deanery of Bridgnorth. In the reign of Edward
III, one Henry De Harley, upon a false report of the death of the Dean,
Thomas de Eyton, obtained a grant of the Deanery from the king. Thomas
de Eyton however making his appearance some time afterwards in the
King’s presence, the grant to De Harley was of course withdrawn, and a
special mandate given for restoring the rightful Dean. But the ejected
Dignitary, not willing to resign the benefice so easily, flew to arms,
resolved to support his claim at any cost. His opponent was equally
vigorous in the measures which he adopted for the establishment of his
rights. They both raised a body of armed men, in order to decide the
matter in dispute by the sword; nor was the unseemly strife put an end
to, but by the interposition of the sovereign. (_Dukes’ Antiquities of
Shropshire, p. 49._)
But about this time there was one connected with the Collegiate Church
of Saint Mary Magdalene of Bridgnorth, whose name would cast a lustre
on any church in any age; and it is pleasant to turn from these
indecent scenes of ambitious strife among ecclesiastics, to contemplate
a character so truly exalted as his. The individual, to whom I refer,
was one whose influence on the Church and State was very considerable
in his day, having been twice entrusted with the Great Seal of England,
both in the reign of Edward III. and Richard II; and Bishop of one
of the most extensive dioceses in the kingdom—yet one, whose virtues
were more eminent than his rank or talents, and to whom, it should be
added, the Church of England owes more, perhaps, than to any other
individual, for the sound and learned education of her clergy—the
memorable William of Wykeham. He was Prebendary of Saint Mary’s[21]
in the year 1360; and it is no little honor to our town, that the
name of this great and good man is thus connected with it. This may
justify my introducing here a few particulars respecting him; for it
seems desirable that none of the readers, for whom these pages are
chiefly intended, should be unacquainted with one who was by far the
most illustrious person ever connected with the Collegiate Church of
Bridgnorth.
[21] In the certificate, made to the Archbishop of Canterbury, of
the benefices of William of Wykeham, is the following entry:—“Item
the aforesaid Sir William of Wykeham, at the time of the date of the
aforesaid monition, by collation of our Lord, the illustrious King of
England, the canonry and Prebend of Alnthle, (Alveley) in the aforesaid
our Lord the King’s free Chapel of Bruggenorth.”—_Lowth’s Life of
Wykeham, p. 34._
Wykeham, early in life, before taking orders, was introduced into
the Court of Edward III., and recommended himself to the King by his
great skill in architecture. He was made surveyor of his works; and
to him it is chiefly that the Royal Family of England are indebted
for by far the noblest of their palaces—Windsor Castle. He grew into
such favour with his sovereign, that he heaped preferments upon him,
both civil and ecclesiastical, till at length he advanced him to the
important See of Winchester. In the government of his Diocese he
was a great reformer, and most zealously set himself to correct the
ecclesiastical abuses which he discovered; and by the purity of his
own life, as well as by the strict and vigilant discipline which he
exercised, brought about a great improvement in the condition of the
clergy. Through the royal bounty, wealth flowed in on him in great
abundance; but he was only intent on finding channels for the useful
distribution of it. His munificence was unbounded, so that it is
doubtful whether any sovereign Prince ever expended so large a revenue
on others, as he did in his public and private charities.[22] Among
other works, which attest the largeness of his heart in this respect,
may be mentioned his maintaining twenty-four poor persons in his own
family—his building and restoring churches, and erecting residences
for his clergy, at his own expense—and his rebuilding at an immense
cost the nave of his own Cathedral Church at Winchester, which stands
at this day a noble monument, not only of his princely munificence,
but of his architectural taste; for there are few ecclesiastical
buildings in England that equal it in dignity and grandeur. But the
chief works which have rendered his name illustrious as a benefactor,
are the building and endowing two noble Colleges, one at Winchester,
and the other in Oxford; the former of which he designed as a nursery
for the latter. These he enriched by very large and liberal endowments,
and enriched them still more by the treasures of wise counsels and
wholesome laws which he introduced into the statutes, which are so
admirable—“drawn up with such judgment and reach of thought,” as
Collier observes, “that they have been transcribed for the benefit
of other houses; and served as it were as a pattern to the principal
Colleges of Oxford and Cambridge;” (_Ecclesiastical History_, _Book_
VII, _p. 270_) so that it is no hazardous assertion to make, that
no one person in modern or ancient times has done more—perhaps none
so much—for the sound education of the clergy of England as William
of Wykeham, some time Prebendary of St. Mary’s, Bridgnorth. At this
very time, after the lapse of nearly five hundred years, Bridgnorth
is receiving the benefit of his noble institutions; for the present
Head Master[23] of Bridgnorth Grammar School is a Wykehamite, taught,
and trained, and nurtured in Winchester and New College. His fitness
for the important post he at present occupies, he owes, in part at
least, to William of Wykeham: so that whatever Wykeham in ancient times
received as Prebendary in the Deanery of Bridgnorth, he is now paying
back to its inhabitants, in the good instruction which is given to
their children in Bridgnorth Grammar School.
[22] “Whosoever considers the vast buildings and rich endowments made
by this prelate, beside his expense in repairing the Cathedral at
Winchester, will conclude such achievements impossible for a subject,
until he reflect on his vast offices of preferments.”—_Fuller’s Church
History_, _B._ IV., _Cent._ XIV.
[23] The Rev. H.G. Merriman, M.A.
_The Church of Saint Leonard._
The other Church of Bridgnorth, Saint Leonard’s, is, in all
probability, nearly as ancient in its foundation as Saint Mary’s.
No document exists which gives us the exact date of its foundation,
but there is reason to believe it is coeval, or nearly so, with the
foundation of the Borough; for Leland, who visited Bridgnorth in the
reign of Henry VIII., states that Saint Leonard’s was the sole Parish
Church of the town; and as it is not to be supposed that so important a
Borough would have been without a Parochial Church even in its infancy,
a very early date must be assigned to it. Mr. Eyton, who suggests this
strong argument for the antiquity of its foundation, subjoins to it
however the remark, that “as yet no architectural evidence occurs to
strengthen this assertion.” But he was not aware, when he made this
observation, of the fact, that in making some repairs in the chancel, a
few years since, the workmen came upon a stone carved with a moulding
which is supposed to be of Norman character; affording very probable
evidence that the building, of which it was a part, belonged to the
early period to which Mr. Eyton refers.
The earliest written notice which can be referred to respecting St.
Leonard’s, though it implies the pre-existence of the Church, cannot
itself be ascribed to an older period than the middle of the thirteenth
century. It occurs in a legal document, and is as follows:—“Roger,
son of Richard Irish, (Hybernensis) sells to Walter Palmer, for 6s.,
a rent of 6d., issuing from certain field-land without the cemetery
of Saint Leonard, which land William Sholton held of the Vendor, by
the same rent.” (_Antiquities of Shropshire, Vol. 1, p. 341._) It is
also ascertained from existing documents, that two chantries, or side
chapels, were set up in Saint Leonard’s; the one in the time of Edward
II, the other in the time of Edward III. This latter was founded by
William de la Hulle, who “assigns his messuage in Bridgnorth, (lying
between the conduit and a tenement belonging to Richard Brown) also
thirty acres of land, and sixty shillings there, to three chaplains,
who were to pray daily in the Church of Saint Leonard’s, for the souls
of his father and mother, and for his own soul, and those of his two
wives and children.“ (_Dukes’ Antiquities_, XXXVII.) I cannot but
think that there still exists in Saint Leonard’s Church some remains
of one of these ancient chapels. In the south wall of the nave there
may be seen a Piscina, about six feet above the level of the present
floor: the height of it proves that the wall, in which it is placed,
formed part of a former structure, the floor of which must have stood
a good deal higher than the present one, for the usual height of a
Piscina from the ground was about two or three feet. A Piscina also,
it is to be noticed, was an appendage to an altar, and was never built
but in connection with one; so that there must have been an altar,
and consequently a chapel, in this part of Saint Leonard’s Church, of
which the present south wall formed a part; and we have no reason for
supposing this to be any other than that attached to the parish Church,
in the reign of Edward II, or Edward III.
[Illustration]
John Leland represents Saint Leonard’s Church in his time (A.D. 1536)
as one of great beauty, and there can be no doubt that originally it
was a large and magnificent building; for as late as the year 1645,
when Symonds, an officer in Charles’s army, visited Bridgnorth, it was
still “a noble structure,” ornamented with painted windows. He has
given a sketch of the figures on several of these. One of them, here
given, was that of an ancient Knight in armour, with his sword girded
on his right thigh, and his cross-shield painted beside him. It is
supposed to be Adam de Molineux,[24] who lived in the reign of King
Henry III.
[24] “Grandson of Robert de Villiers, Lord of Little Crossby. This is
supposed to be the knight, who was pourtrayed in the glass of three
windows, in the upper part of Bridgnorth Church, in Com, Salop, in
antique mail, cloathed with a surcoat, and girt with his sword and
spurs: over which is an equilateral triangular shield, in which the
arms of Molineux are depicted.”—_Baronetage_, 1741, _in voce_.
Symonds also gives a description of some Altar Tombs, situate in the
north aisle (an aisle unhappily no longer in existence), on one of
which “lay a man in armour and a woman, with many painted escutcheons,
belonging to the Hoord family, of Hoord’s Park. Another in the same
aisle, the statue of a woman, fayrlie gilt, in alabaster, with this
inscription circumscribed, and coats of arms.”
“HERE LYETH THE BODY OF
=_FFrancis FFermer_,=
DAUGHTER OF THOMAS HOORD, ESQ.,
AND
WIFE OF THOMAS FERMER, ESQ.,
WHO DYED
10 DAY OF JULY, 1570.”[25]
[25] Symonds’s Diary, a M.S. in the British Museum, p. 45.
The present Church of Saint Leonard’s, parts of which belonged no doubt
to the original building, forms, in the condition in which it now
stands, a sad contrast to the “fayre church” of John Leland’s time.
Perhaps the future inhabitants of the town and of the surrounding
district, all of whom have more or less an interest in it, may feel an
earnest zeal for this house of God, and may possess the means as well
as the desire, of compleating the restoration of it, which was begun
a few years since, but was discontinued for want of funds. It is a
pity, even in an architectural point of view, to see it in its present
decayed condition; for it stands on as fine a platform, perhaps, as
any ecclesiastical building in England, and might be made, without any
considerable cost, both externally and within, a noble temple. Its
ancient Church Yard too, the burying place of so many generations,
will, it is to be hoped, ere long, be rescued from the dishonoured
state in which it lies. There sleep the dead of many centuries. A
few feet below the level of the present graves lie the remains of
those, who died in the period of the great Rebellion—some of them
slain, perhaps, fighting for what they deemed the cause of God, and
of their country. A few feet deeper rest the ashes of men, who were
co-temporary with Cranmer and Ridley, and who witnessed the progress
of the glorious Reformation. Deeper still lie those who died in the
stormy times of York and Lancaster. Lower still would be found the dust
of those, who belonged to the age of the great Plantagenets; and on a
still lower bed sleep those who lived when the sceptre of England was
swayed by Kings of Norman blood. Reverence then for the dead, who were
buried there ages long since, as well as reverence for those who have
been laid there in our own time, should make us anxious to see restored
to a higher degree of decency and order than at present marks its
condition, the ancient Cemetery of Saint Leonard’s Church.
I greatly regret that the historical notices of Saint Leonard’s Church
are so very scanty; for loving as I do, the very stones of the old
building, I should have been glad to associate it with any interesting
traditions of an early date. But these are wanting. However, in the
_Blakeway Papers_, in the Bodleian Library, there is preserved the
narrative of one incident that occurred in Saint Leonard’s Church,
which is indeed worthy of a memorial. It is of too private a nature to
find its way into the page of history; yet, by those who are familiar
with the locality where it took place, and who find pleasure in the
manifestation of nobleness of disposition and magnanimity, even in the
youngest, it will not be read without interest.
The manuscript from which I copied it is as follows:—“Mr. Leighton told
me a story connected with this church, which is worth relating, though
I can assign no date or name to it. Two boys were at play in the upper
part of Saint Leonard’s Church, when some of the beams or joists, on
which they were standing, gave way. One of the boys had just time to
catch hold of the beams with his arms, and the other boy slipping over
his body caught hold of the other boys legs. There they hung for some
time calling for help: but no one heard them. At length the upper boy
said he could hold no longer. The lower boy said, “Do you think you
could save yourself if I were to loose you.” “Yes,” said the other,
“I think I could.” “Well then,” said he, “God bless you,” and loosing
his hold was instantly dashed to pieces. The upper boy got up upon the
beams, and either climbed to a place of safety, or remained till some
one came to his assistance.” This was heroism of the noblest type; nor
did the knight in Roman story, who is described as leaping into the
gulph in the Forum, evince more true intrepidity of mind, or a more
generous spirit of self-sacrifice, than did this poor youth, when he
thus quietly loosened his only hold on life, to secure his companion’s
safety, and calmly wished him well in the name of God, as he was about
to make that fearful fall, which would indeed be life to his friend,
but inevitable death to himself. If his name were known, and the exact
spot where this affecting incident occurred, they would have been well
worthy of being put on record on a mural tablet, in Saint Leonard’s
Church.
* * * * *
Besides the Collegiate Church of Saint Mary Magdalene, and the
Parochial Church of Saint Leonard, there were several other religious
establishments in Bridgnorth, previous to the Reformation. But before I
enter on any account of these, it is right that I should take a passing
notice of something far more ancient than any of them; which, though
standing within the parish of Worfield, is locally connected with our
town, and associated with its religious history—namely,
[Illustration: _The Hermitage_.]
On ascending the very steep hill, which leads out of the town towards
Wolverhampton, every one has observed, on the right hand side of the
road, a cave hollowed out of the sand-stone rock, which on examination
is found more extensive than might at first be supposed. This, there
is reason to believe, was in old time the solitary dwelling place of
one of the Saxon Princes, a brother of King Athelstan; and hither it
is believed he had fled, both that he might enjoy religious solitude,
and also screen himself from the violence and treachery to which his
Brother Edwin had fallen a prey. Documents are extant, which shew that
there was a Hermitage here in the reign of Edward III., under the
patronage of the Crown, and that it bore the name of Athelardestan—a
Saxon word, which signifies “the rock” or “stone of Ethelward.”[26]
Thus documentary testimony supports the ancient tradition, that this
cave, amidst the seclusion of Morfe Forest, was the cell of a royal
anchorite—one who turned his back on the intrigues and fascinations
of a court, and sought in this deep retirement a course of life more
congenial to his feelings. No doubt it was a mistaken sense of duty,
which made such men bury themselves in these dark solitudes; for it is
far nobler to encounter the world, and to overcome it, than to retire
from the conflict—better amidst its corruptions and cares, its trials
and temptations, to keep ourselves unspotted by it, than to seek an
escape from its evils by deserting the sphere of our appointed duties.
It is difficult for us, perhaps, to realize the position of serious
and peaceful minds in times of lawlessness and violence, yet at all
times the best exercise of self denial and mortification[27] is to be
found in the common path of daily life—in intercourse with our fellow
men—not in seclusion from them; and that must be a mistaken piety,
which seeks to please God by forsaking the responsibilities of our
station, and cutting ourselves off from the sympathies and charities
of life; still we must not scorn such piety, even though we detect its
errors, and lament its weakness; but willingly cherish the hope, that
its mistakes and deficiencies were pardoned by Him who is not extreme
to mark what is done amiss, and that many an occupant of a solitary
hermitage, like this of Ethelward, in the secret preference of his
heart, chose the good part which shall not be taken from him.
[26] See the subject discussed by Mr. Eyton, in _Vol. 1, p. 353,
Antiquities of Shropshire_.
[27] There is a store of practical wisdom on this subject in these two
verses of the Morning Hymn in the “Christian Year,”
“We need not bid for cloister’d cell,
Our neighbour, and our work farewell;
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high
For sinful man beneath the sky.
The trivial round, the common task,
Would furnish all we ought to ask:
Room to deny ourselves; a road
To bring us, daily, nearer God.”
_Hospital of Saint John._
We now come to consider the Ecclesiastical Establishments before
referred to, and first that which is usually called the Hospital of
Saint John, though it was also dedicated to the Holy Trinity and the
Virgin Mary. It was founded by Ralph de Strange, Lord of Alveley,
in the reign of Richard I. Such hospitals, though they became after
a while a refuge for the poor and destitute generally, yet were
originally designed for the entertainment of travellers, and especially
of pilgrims, and therefore were built by the way side, that so they
might be as accessible as possible, and that the tired traveller might
not have far to go for rest and refreshment.[28] Saint John’s hospital
was well situated for this purpose. Standing within the angle formed
by Mill Street and Saint John’s Street, it commanded every highway
by which travellers entered the town from places lying eastward of
the Severn. The roads from Quatford and Claverley, and Worfield, and
Shiffnal, all converging to a point on that side of the Bridge, passed
close to its gate; and no doubt many a wayfaring man, wearied with
threading his way through the mazes of Morfe Forest was glad, when he
had descended the hill, to rest under its friendly roof.
[28] Tanner’s Notitia Monastica, p. XXVIII, note.
The earliest royal recognition of this Hospital bears date March 9th,
1223. It is a mandate of Henry III., by which he directs Hugh Fitz
Robert, Forester of Shropshire, to give the Brethren of the Hospital
of St. John twelve cart loads of dry wood in Morf Forest. There is
another, about two years later, by which King Henry III., being then
at Bridgnorth, commands the same Hugh Fitz Robert to allow the Master
and Brethren of the Hospital of the Holy Trinity of Bruges to have
three oak trees in Morf Forest for their fire, of the King’s gift.
There is also a record of a trial, which took place at the Assizes in
Shrewsbury, in the close of the same century, between the Crown and the
Prior of this Hospital, respecting some land in the parish of Alveley,
claimed by the Prior as part of the endowment of the establishment
by Ralph Le Strange. The claim was disputed by the King’s Attorney,
who set forth the royal title as by descent from Henry II. The Jurors
however found upon their oath, that “the Master had greater right to
hold the land as he held it, than the King to have it as he claimed
it.” The members of this Religious House were a Prior, or Master, and
several Lay Brethren; and the Mastership of it was in the reign of
Edward IV. annexed to the Abbey of Lilleshall.[29]
[29] Tanner’s Notitia Monastica, p. 451.
_The Hospital of Saint James._
This was an establishment of a very different kind. It was designed
only as a place of refuge for persons afflicted with severe or
contagious diseases, and was termed in legal documents _Domus
Leprosorum Jacobi_, or as _Maladria Sancti Jacobi_.[30] It stood
outside the town, east of the road which led from Saint John’s Hospital
to Quatford. Its founders were, probably, the community of the Borough
of Bridgnorth, and such an establishment may be considered as one of
the sanitary measures which they adopted for the benefit of the town.
Many of the large towns in England had establishments of this nature in
the thirteenth century; and there is evidence to prove, that the Leper
House of Saint James, in Bridgnorth, was founded previously to 1224;
for on the 22nd of September of that year, Henry III., who was then at
Bridgnorth Castle, issued the following mandate to Hugh Fitz Robert,
“Know that for the reverence of God, and for the health of our soul,
and the soul of the Lord King John our Father, we have granted to the
Leprous Brethren of the Hospital of Saint James, at Bruges, that they
may have one horse, daily plying in our Forest of Morf, to collect dry
stumps and dead wood for their fires, until we come of age.” There
is also a very early charter of the thirteenth century, now in the
possession of T. C. Whitmore, Esq., of Apley, bearing the Seal of the
Hospital of Saint James, by which it would appear that this society was
constituted without any superior of its own body, and that it acted
under the guidance, and with the consent of the good men of the town,
and that its members were of both sexes. (_Antiquities of Shropshire,
Vol. 1, p. 349._)
[30] Mr. Eyton mentions that there was a Maladrerie near Bridgnorth of
older date than this, being described in deeds as “Vetus Maladria.”
It was situated on the Oldbury side of the town, and abutted on two
water-courses, called “Reymund’s Ditch,” and the “Ditch towards
Aldebur.”—_Charter at Apley Park._
These two establishments, the Hospital of Saint John and that of Saint
James, the one for the relief of the indigent, and the refreshment of
travellers, the other for the relief of diseased persons, were swept
away by the Act for the dissolution of Monasteries and Religious
Houses, which passed in the reign of Henry VIII. What now answers to
these two in our town, are the Union Poor House and the Infirmary. I am
not about to institute a comparison between the modern institutions,
and those of olden times; and I most willingly bear testimony, that
the indigent and invalids, who are admitted into the Poor House and
Infirmary of Bridgnorth, receive the kindest and tenderest treatment;
at the same time we ought to be aware, that the ancient Religious
Houses of this Country, two of which were connected with our Borough,
afforded to the sick and needy substantial relief, and that, whatever
defects might belong to the system on which they were carried on,
they were for a time of essential service. Abuses did creep into them
no doubt—abuses of so flagrant a character, as called loudly for
reform—nevertheless, they afforded a shelter for houseless poverty,
a retreat for old age, and a refuge for disease, not to be found
elsewhere; and when a rapacious and mercenary law[31] decreed their
dissolution, confiscated their property, uprooted their establishments,
and swept them from the land, it left the poor unbefriended, and
subjected them to the severest sufferings, by casting them for relief
on the precarious supply that private charity afforded. The late
Professor Blunt, of Cambridge, in his valuable work on the Reformation,
gives the following description of the ancient Religious Houses, which
is as true as it is graphic. “They had been the Almshouses, where
the aged dependants of more opulent families, the decrepit servant,
the decayed artificer, retired as to a home, neither uncomfortable
nor humiliating. They had been the County Dispensaries, a knowledge
of medicines, and of the virtues of herbs, being a part of Monkish
learning. They had been foundling asylums, relieving the state of many
orphan and outcast children, and ministering to their necessities,
God’s ravens in the wilderness, bread and flesh in the morning, and
bread and flesh in the evening. They had been Inns to the wayfaring
man, who heard from afar the sound of the vesper bell, at once inviting
him to repose and devotion, and who might sing his matins with the
morning star, and go on his way rejoicing.” (_p. 141._)
[31] It is a very common opinion, that the suppression of the Religious
Houses in the reign of Henry VIII. was universally countenanced and
encouraged by the Reformers; and Roman Catholic writers are very
anxious to give this opinion currency; but it is wholly groundless.
Almost all the Bishops of the new learning, as the Reformers were
called, were against the misapplication of the Abbey lands; and Queen
Anne Boleyn, though so strong a favourer of the Reformation, is said
to have been so averse to the measure, that she put up Bishop Latimer
upon preaching against it before the King. On the other hand, the
measure found very strong advocates among the Roman Catholics, Laity
and Clergy; and of these one of the most conspicuous was the famous
Bishop Gardener, who is said to have been as busy as any in declaiming
against the Religious Houses, and to have commended the King in many of
his sermons for suppressing them.—See some curious statements on the
subject in _Tanner’s Notitia Monastica_, _p._ XL, _notes_.
_The Friars._
This was a House of Franciscan or Grey Friars,[32] an order that
was founded by Francis of Assisi, early in the thirteenth century,
and introduced into this country in the reign of Henry III. About
the middle of that reign, a branch of this fraternity settled in
Bridgnorth, and fixed their residence by the Severn side, on a site
now occupied by Messrs. Southwell’s Carpet Manufactory. There they
built both a Friary and a Church. The great Hall, or Refectory, which
belonged to this establishment is still standing, and its oak-pannelled
ceiling and stone fire-place have not yielded to the wear of time, but,
after the lapse of six hundred years, are still in good preservation.
Some years ago, a few skeletons were dug up near this spot, and very
lately several others have been found; the place where they lay marking
out, no doubt, the situation of the Cemetery, which belonged to the
Church of the Friars.
[32] They were called Grey Friars from their habit, which was a loose
garment of a grey colour, reaching down to their ankles.—_Notitia
Monastica_, _p._ XXI.
There is a record of a curious trial at Shrewsbury Assizes, bearing
date 1272, which brings the Friars of Bridgnorth under notice. They
were charged with having enclosed the King’s highway on the bank of
the Severn, thereby damaging the King’s revenue. It was stated on this
trial, that “they take stones and rubbish from the bank of the Severn,
and throw them into the river, whereby they have realised to themselves
a piece of ground, one hundred and fifty feet long, and fifty feet
wide, and this they have enclosed. By which process the bank causes
the water to pound upon the King’s Mills, the damage whereunto is
five merks per annum, and this was done sixteen years back.” I must
leave it to engineers to determine, whether or not there is any trace
of this artificial bank still remaining, and whether it is owing to
the construction of it, that the Eastern side of the river, near
Bridgnorth, is now so much more easily flooded than the Western: if so
the inhabitants of the Low Town owe a grudge to the Grey Friars of the
thirteenth century.
But some of the brethren of this community were, I doubt not, often
employed in much more important work than in banking up the Severn, and
gaining ground by encroaching on its channel. By the ancient seal of
their foundation, an engraving of which is given on the following page,
it may be seen that they were “_prædicatores_”—preachers. It was a dark
age in which they discharged this office, and some blessed truths,
which hold a prominent place in the system of the Gospel of Christ,
were unknown to them, or known very indistinctly. Nevertheless, many
a hooded Friar, in those days of darkness, did the best he could, with
the little light he had, to enlighten the ignorant around him; and He
who does “not despise the day of small things,” would not suffer his
labour to be altogether in vain.
[Illustration]
The Monks and Friars of former times have so bad a name among
Protestants, (and indeed there is too much reason for it) that it may
seem strange that I should express a hope, that the establishment of
this Friary of Franciscans in Bridgnorth, should have answered any good
purpose; yet I venture to do so. No doubt such establishments became
in later years exceedingly corrupt—almost as corrupt as those who
profited by their dissolution wished to make out. Often they harboured
evils within them of an enormous magnitude. Nevertheless, they at times
numbered among their members some most earnest and devoted servants of
our Lord, who, in the retirement of their closets, meditated devoutly
on His Word, and went forth from thence with a burning zeal to preach
it to others. In expressing an opinion, that piety of the highest order
might be found among the inhabitants of a cloister, however corrupt
the system may have been with which they were outwardly connected, I
am glad to be able to fortify myself by so great an authority, and so
unsuspected a witness, as Archbishop Leighton. His biographer states,
that although he was no friend to monastic seclusion, and regarded
the greater number of the regular Clergy of the Roman Catholic Church
as “_ignavi fures_,” yet at the same time “he recognized among them a
few specimens of extraordinary growth in religion; and thought he had
discovered in the piety of some conventual recluses a peculiar and
celestial flavour, which could hardly be met with elsewhere. Of their
sublime devotion he often spake with an admiration approaching to
rapture.”[33] On such a topic I cannot refrain from quoting also the
following striking passage from Dr. Maitland, whose acute and learned
researches into the state of religion in the middle ages, entitle his
opinion to the greatest weight. “I feel no doubt, that, in the darkest
age, there were many true and accepted worshippers of God. Not formed
into churches, and eminently bearing their testimony in corporate
capacities _as_ churches, against the See of Rome (for then I think
we should have heard more about them); but as the sheep of Christ,
dispersed abroad in the midst of this naughty world—known, perhaps, by
this or that name of reproach—or, perhaps, the obscure and unknown,
whose names were never written anywhere but in Heaven. I doubt not that
there were such, living a life of faith and prayer and communion with
God; overlooked in the bustle of cities, and the solitude of cottages,
and even shut up in what some modern systems require us to consider as
the strongholds of Antichrist—the cell and the cloister. I will not
shrink from avowing my belief, that many a tonsured head now rests in
Abraham’s bosom; and that many a frail body, bowed down with voluntary
humility, and wasted with unprofitable will-worship—clothed in rags,
and girt with a bell-rope—was a temple of the Holy Ghost; and that one
day—a day when the follies of system, and the sins of party, and man’s
judgment of his fellows, will have come to an end—these, her unknown
children, will be revealed to the astonishment of a church, accustomed
to look back with a mixture of pride and shame to the days of her
barrenness. She may ask, ‘Who hath brought up these? Behold I was left
alone; these, where have they been?’—but she will have learned to know
the seal of the living God, she will embrace them as her sons, and
will find better matter of discourse, than their superstition and her
illumination. In the mean time, however, they are hidden—perhaps more
completely hidden than they need be, if due pains were taken to look
after them, and gather what might be known.”[34]
[33] Pearson’s Life of Archbishop Leighton, prefixed to his works, pp.
CXVII, CXVIII.
[34] Facts and documents, illustrative, &c. of the Albigenses and
Waldenses, 1832, p. 45.
We have happily an instance, to which, without going out of our way, we
can refer, in proof that the spirit of sincere and devoted piety may be
found in a monk or friar of ancient days. It is that of a Shropshire
monk of the twelfth century—Ordericus, the original historian of
our county, to whose records we are indebted for some of the facts
connected with the early history of Bridgnorth, related in the
foregoing pages. In the close of his history he subjoins an account of
himself, which breathes throughout a deep-seated humility, and ardent
gratitude, which it would be well indeed if we, with our clearer views
and larger knowledge, could catch the spirit of. The whole of it is
well worthy a perusal, but I can only find room for the concluding
passage.
“Thus, thus, O Lord God, Thou who didst fashion me, and didst breathe
into my nostrils the breath of life, hast Thou, through these various
gradations, imparted to me Thy gifts, and formed my years to Thy
service. In all the places to which Thou hast led me, Thou hast caused
me to be beloved, by Thy bounty, not by my own deserving. For all Thy
benefits, O merciful Father, I thank Thee. I laud and bless Thee: for
my numberless offences, with tears I implore Thy mercy. For the praise
of Thy unwearied goodness look upon Thy creature, and blot out all
my sins. Grant me the will to persist in Thy service, and strength
to withstand the attacks of Satan, till I attain, by Thy grace, the
inheritance of everlasting life. And what I have prayed for myself, I
pray, O God, for my friends, and well-wishers. The same also I pray
for all the faithful: and forasmuch as the efficacy of our own merits
cannot suffice to obtain those eternal gifts, after which the desires
of the perfect aspire,—
“O Lord God, Almighty Father, Creator and Ruler of the Angels, Thou
true hope, and eternal blessedness of the righteous, may the glorious
intercession of the Holy Virgin and Mother Mary, and all Saints, aid us
in Thy sight, with the merits of our Lord Jesus Christ, Redeemer of all
men, who liveth and reigneth with Thee, in the Unity of the Holy Ghost,
world without end.”[35]
[35] Blakeway’s History of Shrewsbury, Vol. I, pp. 69, 70.
The concluding passage of this prayer is slightly tinged with that
superstition, which afterwards appeared in a still more objectionable
form, and now so deeply stains the worship of the Church of Rome
with the foul blot of idolatry; but with Ordericus the evil was but
superficial, and though it does sully the beauty of his devotion,
yet it is not deep enough to hide its intrinsic piety. His godly
sincerity is still conspicuous, notwithstanding the error with which
it was connected; for, as Milner well observes in his Church History,
a measure of superstition is compatible with real godliness. We may
hope that there were men of like spirit with Ordericus in the ancient
Friary of Bridgnorth, and if so, Christ was not without a witness here,
even in the darkness of the middle ages; and His holy name, though
pronounced by faltering lips, and a stammering tongue, would bring
salvation; and His truth, though taught obscurely and defectively,
would be sufficient to guide the feet of wandering sinners into the way
of peace, and to conduct the weary and heavy laden to their rest.
* * * * *
The historical notices of Bridgnorth which I have thus brought before
the reader, will not, I hope, be considered wholly devoid of interest,
at least not by those who are locally connected with the place. They
are scanty indeed, but sufficient to shew them that the town, in which
it is their lot to live, not only is one whose foundation is of very
ancient date, and the Borough belonging to it one of the earliest
in the kingdom, subsequent to the Norman Conquest, but that it has
been at times the theatre of events of some importance in history;
that the scenes with which they are daily familiar, and which are
now comparatively so quiet and peaceful, have again and again been
scenes of active warfare, where the besiegers and the besieged have
confronted each other in deadly combat, and where, on more than one
occasion, the Monarchs of England have appeared in person to vindicate
the prerogatives of their crown, and loyalty and rebellion have striven
valiantly and fiercely for the mastery. The rude hand of time has
indeed swept away almost every memorial of these things, and scarcely a
monument is left standing to mark the spot where they occurred; so that
they who take their customary walk around the Castle Hill, or stroll
along the towing path by the Severn side, see little or nothing to
remind them of the furious combats which once signalized these scenes.
The hill rises so peacefully in the midst of the valley, that it does
not look as if it had ever been the object of a military assault, nor
is it easy to imagine, when we look on the gentle flow of the river,
that its waters were ever reddened by human blood. The contrast between
what now is, and what has been in other days, is so great, that the
beautiful lines which Sir Walter Scott has addressed to the Teviot,
might, with little alteration, be accommodated to the Severn:
“Sweet Teviot, on thy silver tide
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more:
No longer steel-clad warriors ride
Along thy wild and willow’d shore:
Where’er thou wind’st, by dale or hill,
All, all is peaceful, all is still,
As if thy waves, since time was born,
Since first they roll’d upon the Tweed,
Had only heard the shepherd’s reed,
Nor started at the bugle horn.”
_Introduction to Canto IV of the_
_Lay of the Last Minstrel._