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 p?????, ‘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]

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.

“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.

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]

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.

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]

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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.]

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.

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.

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:—

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.

ANCIENT ECCLESIASTICAL ESTABLISHMENTS.

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

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,

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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,

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.

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.

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]

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.)

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.)

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.

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.

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]

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]

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: