Let us ascend the valley of the Severn, and in the centre of its broad
plain, at the confluence of the Avon, find another great religious house
in the smaller but equally noted town of Tewkesbury. All around are rich
meadows, and here, away from the hills, was the ideal site for a
monastery according to the ancient notion, where the languor of the
gentle air prevented the blood flowing with too quick pulse. The Avon,
spanned by an old arched bridge, washes one side of the town; the
massive abbey-tower rises above a fringe of foliage and orchards, while
on the one hand the horizon is bounded by the steep Cotswolds, and on
the other by the broken masses of the Malverns. Close to the town, on
its western verge, flows the Severn, crossed by a fine modern iron
bridge. Tewkesbury is known to fame by its mustard, its abbey, and its
battle. The renown of the Tewkesbury mustard goes back for at least
three centuries: as "thick as Tewkesbury mustard" was a proverb of
Falstaff's. That old-time historian Fuller says of it, "The best in
England (to take no larger compass) is made at Tewkesbury. It is very
wholesome for the clearing of the head, moderately taken." But,
unfortunately, the reputation of Tewkesbury for this commodity has
declined in modern times.
[Illustration: TEWKESBURY.]
[Illustration: TEWKESBURY ABBEY.]
The history of Tewkesbury Abbey comes from misty antiquity, and it is
thought by some to have been named "Dukes-borough" from two ancient
Britons, Dukes Odda and Dudda, but others say it commemorates a
missionary monk named Theoe, who founded a little church there in the
seventh century. Brictric, King of Wessex, was buried within its walls
in the ninth century, and, like Gloucester, it suffered afterwards from
the ravages of the Danes. But it flourished subsequently, and in the
days of William Rufus the manor was conferred upon Fitz-Hamon, an
influential nobleman, under whose auspices the present abbey was built.
Nothing remains of any prior building. The church was begun in 1100, but
the builder was killed in battle before it was completed. It is in the
form of a cross with short transepts, and a tower rising from the
centre. The choir was originally terminated by apses, which can still be
traced, and there were other apses on the eastern side of each transept.
While the outlines of most of the abbey are Norman, the choir is almost
all of later date. The western front has the singular feature of being
almost all occupied by an enormous and deeply-recessed Norman arch, into
which a doorway and tracery were inserted about two hundred years ago,
replacing one blown down by a storm in 1661. This abbey church was
dedicated in 1123, and the services were almost the last diocesan act of
Theulf, bishop of Worcester. One of the dedication ceremonies was
quaint. As the bishop came to the middle of the nave, we are told that
he found part of the pavement spread with white wood-ashes, upon which
he wrote the alphabet twice with his pastoral staff--first the Greek
alphabet from north-east to south-west, and then the Latin, from
south-east to north-west, thus placing them in the form of a cross. He
signified by this ceremony that all divine revelation was conveyed by
the letters of the alphabet, and that the gospel comprehended under the
shadow of the cross men of all races and all languages. The time had
been when at such consecrations three alphabets were written--the
Hebrew, Greek, and Latin--as the title on the cross had been written in
these three tongues, but the Hebrew was early discontinued, "probably,"
writes Blunt, the historian of Tewkesbury Abbey, "because even bishops
might not always be able to manage their Alpha Beta in that character."
The best views of the abbey are from the south-east, and the interior is
regarded as more remarkable than the exterior. The nave is of singular
grandeur, its round Norman columns being exceptionally lofty. The
triforium is stunted, and consists merely of two pairs of small arches,
above which the ribs of a noble fretted roof expand, so that it appears
as if the roof were immediately supported by the columns of the nave.
The choir is short and hexagonal, being only sixty-six feet from the
reredos, and is surrounded by a number of polygonal chapels, as at
Westminster Abbey, with which it appears quite similar in plan. The Lady
Chapel, originally at the east end, has been entirely destroyed. There
are several monuments of great interest in these chapels, some of them
in the form of chantries--being exquisite cages in stone-work--within
which are the tombs of the founders. Here lie some of the chief nobility
of England who in the days of the Plantagenets were the lords of
Tewkesbury--the Beauchamps, Nevilles, De Clares, and Despensers.
Fitz-Hamon's tomb was not erected until the fourteenth century. Here lie
Clarence and his wife, Isabel, the daughter of Warwick the "King-maker,"
and also the murdered son of Henry VI., who was "stabbed in the field by
Tewkesbury," with other victims of that fatal battle. The remains of the
cloisters lie to the south of the abbey, and beyond is the ancient
gateway, of rather unusual plan.
[Illustration: THE CHOIR OF TEWKESBURY ABBEY.]
The battle of Tewkesbury, which sealed the fate of the Lancastrian party
in England, was fought in 1471 upon the Bloody Meadow, then called the
Vineyard, just outside the town and to the southward of the abbey. The
Lancastrian line was soon broken, and the fight became practically a
slaughter, as the defeated party were forced back upon the town and into
the very abbey itself. Many of the fugitives sought refuge in the
church, and the Yorkists followed them, striking down their victims in
the graveyard, and even within the church-doors. The abbot, taking in
his hand the sacred Host, confronted King Edward himself in the porch
and forbade him to pollute the house of God with blood, and would not
allow him to enter until he had promised mercy to those who had sought
refuge inside. This clemency, however, was short-lived, for in the
afternoon the young Prince of Wales, Henry VI.'s son, was brought before
Edward and murdered by his attendants. Shakespeare represents Edward as
dealing the first blow with a dagger, but the truer story seems to be
that, enraged by a haughty answer from the young prince, he struck him
in the face with his gauntlet, which the bystanders accepted as a signal
for the murder. Two days afterwards a number of the chief captives were
executed.