Evesham written by Edmund H. New
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Edmund H. New >> Evesham
EVESHAM
WRITTEN AND
ILLUSTRATED BY
EDMUND H. NEW
LONDON: J.M. DENT & CO.
29 BEDFORD STREET
NEW YORK: E.P. DUTTON CO.
MDCCCCIV
[Illustration: Bridge St. Evesham]
DEDICATED
TO THE MEMORY OF
_H.N._
1820-1893
_D.N._
1834-1901
NOTE
For the historical matter contained in the following pages the writer
is indebted mainly to George May's admirable history of the town
issued in 1845, a book which, since its publication, has been the
acknowledged authority on local history.
To Mr. Oswald Knapp his thanks are especially due not only for
permission to make use of the series of articles, founded on the
monastic chronicles, which appeared some years ago in the _Evesham
Journal_, most of them under the title of "Evesham Episodes," but also
for much generous help and criticism.
CONTENTS
I. INTRODUCTION
II. EVESHAM AND THE VALE
III. THE ABBEY
1. THE FOUNDING OF THE ABBEY
2. THE ABBEY AFTER THE CONQUEST.
3. THE DISSOLUTION.
IV. THE REMAINS OF THE ABBEY
V. THE PARISH CHURCHES
VI. THE TOWN--INCLUDING BENGEWORTH AND GREEN HILL
VII. THE BATTLE OF EVESHAM
VIII. CAVALIERS AND ROUNDHEADS
IX. THE RIVER
X. THE NEIGHBOURHOOD
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
_Bridge Street_
_Evesham and Bredon Hill, from the Parks_
_The Bell Tower_
_The Gatehouse and Almonry_
_Abbot Reginald's Gateway_
_In the Market Place_
_High Street_
_The Bell Tower, from Bengeworth_
_St. Egwin's, Honeybourne_
Evesham
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
_Yonder lies our ... village--Art and Grace are less and less:_
_Science grows and Beauty dwindles--roofs of slated hideousness!_
--LOCKSLEY HALL, SIXTY YEARS AFTER
Those who love with a deep reverence the work of their forefathers,
whether because of the character and beauty of their handiwork, or
from the historical associations which are indissolubly connected with
it, cannot but regard with pain and abhorrence any cause which tends
towards the demolition or destruction of the monuments of the past. To
these it is a significant and distressing fact that hardly any modern
English buildings or streets possess the qualities which give the
value and charm to the old cities, towns, and villages of which we are
the grateful inheritors. If any reader is inclined to doubt the truth
of this statement, or to consider the sentiment expressed extravagant
or groundless, let him consider the difference between the old towns
and the new.
Evesham provides a typical and sufficiently striking instance of the
contrasted methods and results. Here there is hardly an old house
which has not a local and individual character. Many of them may be
plain, severely plain, some possibly ugly; but in each can be read by
all who will, a distinct and separate thought, or series of thoughts,
connecting the dwelling with its builders and owners, and with the
soil out of which it has sprung.
As the varying undulations of the face of the country tell a plain
tale to the geologist, so the shape and materials of human habitations
tell their story to the student of architecture and the history of
man.
The poet Wordsworth pointed out that one of the great charms of the
Lake country lay in the way in which the dwellings sprang out of the
hill side, as if a natural growth born of the requirements of the
peasant or farmer and the materials provided by nature. Throughout
England this was once the case; no two houses were precisely alike
because no two people had precisely the same ideas, wishes and
requirements; and the material was dictated by the stone or timber
provided by the district. Every building was in old times the
combined expression of the individual man and the _genius loci_.
The timber cottages which are still to be found in the town tell of
the time when tracts of the original forest still lingered, and oak
was the cheapest material fit for building. Often the foundation of
the walls is of stone, and the earliest stone to be used was that
which could be had for the digging, the blue lias found in thin layers
embedded in the clay of which the vale is composed. In the back
streets which retain, as would be expected, more of their primitive
character than the more respectable thoroughfares, this blue stone has
been much used, and in the churches it can be seen in the earlier
parts making a very pretty wall with its thin horizontal lines. The
tower of the church of All Saints shows it to great advantage.
Another stone is also employed, and one far better suited for
building, because it can be obtained in blocks of almost any size, and
carved with the utmost delicacy. This is oolite, the stone of which
the Bell Tower is built. From Norman times it was used in the more
important parts of the Abbey, as is shown in the foundations of the
great tower now exposed to view, and in Abbot Reginald's gateway. But
the oolite stone could not be got much nearer than Broadway, and what
was used by the monks in all probability came from the hill above
that village. In numerous old houses this stone is made use of, but in
almost all it must have come indirectly, having once formed part of
the structure of the monastic buildings, or perhaps of the castle
which for a short time flanked the bridge on the Bengeworth side of
the river.
In the seventeenth century bricks came into fashion, and good clay for
their manufacture was amply provided by the neighbourhood. To the end
of the century belongs Dresden House in High Street, a fine example of
the style of William the Third's time, built by a wealthy lawyer, who
came to settle here, from the northern part of the county. Tower House
in Bridge Street, probably of later date, is beautiful in its
proportions and mouldings, the prominent lead spouts adding much to
the general design. Unfortunately to this fashion for formality and
brick-work, at a later period superseded by a covering of plaster, we
must attribute the demolition of the older fronts, generally of
timber, and often gabled and projecting, which gave such a pleasant
irregularity to our old streets. Though formal and lacking in artistic
qualities these Georgian screens have a certain historical value in
showing that our little town was prosperous through the century, and
able to support a decided air of respectability. But not without
reason do we deplore the change.
The eighteenth century saw the beginning of the great development of
machinery, and in these Georgian house fronts, the productions of a
mechanical age, we see the deterioration of popular architecture.
Every line is rigid and without human feeling: the style, where any
exists, is exotic, not national or local; classical, not vernacular.
It is a learned importation, not a popular growth. The mason has
dwindled into an unreasoning tool in the hands of the architect; hence
the lack of personality, the absence of charm; and only in rare
instances has the architect proved himself capable of supplying those
qualities of design and proportion which to some slight degree
compensate for the loss of interest on the part of the craftsman.
In almost all buildings the roof is a prominent feature. In Evesham
the old roofs are all made of oolite "slats," and as these are split
irregularly, we have tiles of various sizes and slightly varying in
shape. In roofing the plan was to place all the large tiles below, and
to decrease the size gradually towards the ridge, the result being
most pleasing to the eye. Besides the interest given by irregularity,
the delicate silver grey of the oolite roofs, varied with tints of
moss and lichen added by time, produces an effect unsurpassed by any
other form of roof covering. Even the clay tiles, introduced at a
later time, take their place when mellowed by sun and rain; and these
throw into unpleasant relief the modern glazed Staffordshire ware
which resists all softening influences. The Welsh slates, too, before
perfect mechanical regularity was obtained, made a pretty roofing,
though they, of course, have no local interest here.
No one would wish to dwell long on the opposite side of the contrast.
We have already traced the beginning of the decline of domestic
architecture, and the present condition follows as a natural
development. In recent years the town has spread in every direction
that is possible. In the centre is the Evesham of the past, the
Evesham our forefathers built and our fathers knew. But it is
encircled by streets and houses which are not the product of the vale,
nor are they marked by any individual character. Rows upon rows of
dwellings, symmetrical, mechanical, and monotonous, can give no
pleasure to the eye, nor can the mind read in them any story save the
commercial enterprise of a commercial age.
No one can note these differences without sometimes asking the cause
of this lamentable degradation in the character of the buildings which
compose our modern towns. They are many and complex, and too deeply
rooted in present-day commercialism for us even to hope for their
removal. Yet we may still turn to examples of individual effort
throughout the country and find satisfaction. Here and there are
houses possessing some of the finest qualities which have gone towards
making our ancient streets and cities; and here we have evidence that
beautiful building is still possible if we will but have it. It may be
claimed that even the streets we build are historical as our old towns
are historical; that they are the outcome of the age we live in. And
truly this is so; and for this very reason we must needs be patient if
we cannot be hopeful.
But it is something to recognise the fact that we have in our old
buildings and streets records of unquestionable veracity, full of
character and meaning, and such as we are entirely unable, with all
our boasted advantages, to rival or even imitate. And more than this,
we have in most of the work that has been left to us examples of
craftsmanship, in every kind, which are invaluable as models of what
we once could do, and may do, under favourable conditions, again.
Let us then guard this goodly heritage for ourselves and our children
with jealous care, trusting that in fulness of time their handiwork
may be not unworthy to stand beside the best that has been
accomplished in the past. These storied towns may then be with us
still to teach what no history book can tell, and to inspire us with
the spirit of emulation for those qualities which sleep with the
Genius of the Past.
CHAPTER II
EVESHAM AND THE VALE
_Great Evesham's fertile glebe what tongue hath not extolled._
_As though to her alone belonged the crown of gold_.
--MICHAEL DRAYTON.
Evesham stands on a kind of peninsula formed by a deep loop of the
river Avon on its way from Stratford-on-Avon to Tewkesbury. The broad
vale in which it lies is enclosed by a semicircle of hills, which
provide a background to every varied landscape, and give a sense of
homeliness and seclusion which those who are familiar with unbroken
stretches of level country will at once recognise and appreciate. From
the east to the south-west range the Cotswolds, not striking in
outline but depending for their beauty in great part upon the play of
light and shade and the variety given by atmospheric effects. To
dwellers in the vale the appearance of the hills not only reflects the
feeling of the day but foretells the coming weather. When a delicate,
blue haze shrouds their forms, entirely obliterating the more distant
heights, the pleasure-seeker rests content in the promise of a fair
morn; but no pleasant expectations can be formed when, robed in
deepest purple, they seem to draw in and crowd together, and with
vastly increased bulk to frown upon the darkening vale.
[Illustration: EVESHAM AND BREDON HILL FROM THE PARKS]
At each end of the Cotswold range, as seen from Evesham, stands,
sentinel like, an isolated elevation, and in early times, as present
remains testify, both these were occupied as fortified posts. To the
east is Meon Hill, and to the south-west stands Bredon, the nearest
and most prominent of the group. In the south-east the position of
Broadway is decisively marked by its pseudo-Norman tower, and due
south the level outline ended by an abrupt escarpment to the eastward
is Cleeve Cloud, carrying the range on towards Cheltenham and Bristol.
But the chief glory of the vale, so far as its background is
concerned, is the truly mountainous outline of the Malvern Hills, the
whole length of which is seen bounding the western horizon. The
breadth of the valley here is more than twenty miles from hill to
hill, and includes both the Severn and its tributary stream. To how
many does the thought of sunrise not recall this undulating range
illuminated and glorified by the clear beams of the early sun striking
across the vale and thrown back in glittering fragments by the long
line of houses at its base! And few more beautiful associations will
gather round the sunset than those in which Malvern plays its part,
the rocky skyline standing up sharp and clear against the
ever-changing brilliance. As we recall the scene the dazzling
effulgence fades into a glow, the glow diminishes almost imperceptibly
into twilight, and, as we watch, a line of twinkling lights becomes
visible beneath the hill, and one by one the stars appear in the
deepening sky.
Northward there are no striking elevations, the ground sloping
gradually upward by the Lench Hills and the Ridge Way towards the
great central tableland; but opposite Malvern, continuing the horizon
to the north of Meon, can be seen, when the air is clear, beyond the
flat Stour valley, the outline of Edgehill, recalling as we gaze the
years of civil strife, full of terror and bloodshed, yet round which
Time has thrown his mantle of romance.
So far we have been able to dwell on the broad features of the country
which it takes many ages to change or modify. From the earliest times
we can record the settlers on this chosen spot must have looked out on
the same hills and the same broad valley with its overarching sky. But
then, instead of the "crown of gold" of which Drayton sings, or the
silver sheen which in springtime now glorifies the gardens, the face
of the country was, we are told, one vast thicket of brushwood and
forest trees. In Blakenhurst, meaning black forest, the name of the
hundred in which the town is situated, we have an indication of the
former character of this region. Only here and there was a clearing
with a few huts giving shelter to a scanty population of herdsmen and
hunters. In those shadowy times the river was broad and shallow,
unconfined to one course, here swift and clear, there sluggish and
thick, feeding creeks and marshes by the way, and overgrown with
rushes and water weeds; of no use probably as a water-way but prolific
in fish and fowl.
During historic times the vale has been hallowed by many events, and
is sacred to many memories: there is hardly an acre which does not
bear evidence of the doings of our forefathers through the long ages
of which we have knowledge. The site of the town was apparently
unoccupied by the Romans though their thoroughfares run not far
distant, and their camps are numerous on the neighbouring hills. Not
until Saxon times do we hear of this fertile peninsula being
inhabited, and then we are told by the chroniclers of a village called
Homme near this spot, the home of only a few peasants. Like many other
towns and cities, in England, Evesham is said to have had a monastic
origin, and for a long succession of years it is to the monastery
alone that she owes her existence and celebrity. The monastic
foundation dates from about A.D. 702, and from this time until the
Conquest we know little of the fortunes of the place. Access would
have been difficult in those days to so retired a spot protected on
three sides by a broad river, and though doubtless there was a ford
passable on horseback when the water was not in flood, yet until the
building of the bridge it must have been isolated indeed. More than
once we are told of ravages of the Danes. We know they penetrated far
into the country, and Evesham did not escape their vigilance.
Side by side with the growth of the abbey the little village sprang
up, and gradually increased in importance. No doubt in times of stress
it was accustomed to look to that wealthy institution for succour. On
the Church the inhabitants would be dependent for all sacred rites and
the fulfilment of their spiritual needs; but occasionally we find them
waxing independent, and even defying the abbot himself. At best,
however, the fight must have been an unequal one, with wealth,
learning, and power on the one side, and poverty and ignorance on the
other. After an honourable career of eight hundred years the monastery
was overthrown. Even this great abbey, with its wealth and power and
integrity, was impotent to withstand the popular prejudice aroused by
the exposure of the degradation and vice prevailing in so many kindred
institutions, the greed of Henry VIII., and the ruthless energy of
Thomas Cromwell. In a few years it was swept away, leaving only a few
beautiful fragments to tell of its former grandeur.
Evesham's next great claim to notice is as the field of the decisive
battle of 1265, ending in the defeat and death of Simon de Montfort,
and the allies still remaining faithful to their leader. This event,
we know, added much to the fame of the monastery, and reacted on the
town by bringing many pilgrims to the grave of that popular hero. The
tomb of the great Earl vied with, or exceeded in popularity, the many
sacred relics already enshrined in the abbey church.
In early days, as has been pointed out, Evesham lay out of the common
beat; the Avon formed a _cul-de-sac_, and the main road from Worcester
to London and Oxford merely skirted the town, ascending Green Hill
from Chadbury, continuing its course by what is now known as Blayney's
Lane, and crossing the river by a ford or bridge at Offenham Ferry. In
consequence of the growing importance of the town, the road was
probably diverted to its present line.
Although in pre-Reformation days the abbey dominated the town and the
abbot's will was practically law to the inhabitants, yet the townsmen
on the whole lived quite apart, doing their own work, managing their
own affairs, and enjoying themselves in their own way. The monastery,
too, was complete in itself, having its own staff of servants and
needing little, if any, outside help. The precincts of the abbey were
as entirely shut in with their high wall and strong gates, all
fortified in the Edwardian times, as any castle; and little of what
went on in this self-contained society would be known to the people
living without. It must be remembered also that the townsmen had their
own church, that of All Saints, and only on special occasions would
they be allowed entrance to the great church belonging to the monks.
It would seem that the second church, dedicated to St. Lawrence, was
principally used by pilgrims, and this was connected with the monastic
buildings by a covered walk of stone.
To Edward the Confessor we learn the town owed certain rights
connected with its market, and during the Middle Ages it was an
important centre for the trade of the district. On account of this
market, and from the fact that the greater part of the abbey lands lay
on the left bank of the river, it would seem probable that a bridge of
some kind was built quite early in the Middle Ages, if not before. In
monastic times there existed a Guildhall, which betokens of itself a
community of active citizens, and social and commercial organisation.
The education of the children was probably looked after by the monks,
and before the dissolution a grammar school was founded by the abbot.
In Merstow Green we have the public pasture and recreation ground.
When the parent abbey was removed, the town was quite able to take
care of itself: in the same century a new and more spacious Town Hall
and Market was built, suggesting that the old Booth Hall was
insufficient for the requirements of the time; and in the early years
of the reign of James I. a Royal Charter was granted to the
inhabitants in the name of Prince Henry, and the little town became a
corporate borough.
In the seventeenth century a revolution was effected by the river
being rendered navigable from the Severn up to Stratford-on-Avon.
Wharves were built, and numerous barges plied their trade up and down
the stream. Through Stratford, Birmingham and the Midlands became
accessible for heavy traffic by canal. In this century the peaceful
vale is once more disturbed by the clang of arms. During the Civil War
Evesham was an important military post, on account of its position
between the Royalist cities of Worcester and Oxford, and the
engagement which took place here will be recounted in due order.
No very notable events took place for many years; the gardening
industry flourished, the town retained its importance as an
agricultural trading centre, but progress was slow, and life free from
incident. But the change from those days of leisure to these in which
we live is great. Now the river has ceased to be utilised for
commerce: two railways connect the town with every other place of note
in the country, and the whole aspect of things is altered. The Evesham
of to-day is with us; over the past a glamour is spread.
It may be that, even if we had the chance, we would not return to the
past, but over many of us few other studies exercise so great a
fascination as the contemplation of the "good old days" which are
gone.
CHAPTER III
THE ABBEY
_Eoves here dwelt and was a swain,_
_Wherefore men call this Eovesholme_.
--LEGEND ON MONASTIC SEAL.
(_Modernised_.)
THE FOUNDING OF THE ABBEY
In the dim ages of antiquity, when the face of the country, now busy
and fertile, was one dense forest, with here and there a settlement of
dwellers in huts, tillers of the land, herdsmen, or hunters, there
lived near the spot now occupied by the thriving town of Evesham a
swineherd named Eoves. One day, we are told, a favourite sow was
missing, and her master hunted brake and briar, far and near, in
search of her. While on this errand he penetrated far into the depths
of the forest, when suddenly he was startled by a radiant light, in
which appeared three figures of women dazzling by their beauty. The
vision faded, and on the spot the joyful herdsman discovered his sow
with a litter of young.
The news was soon noised abroad, and at length reached the ears of
Egwin, the Bishop of the diocese, at Worcester. Egwin inquired into
the matter, visited the place, and was himself rewarded by the
appearance of the three figures, whom he pronounced to be no other
than the Virgin Mary with two attendant angels. Moreover, he was
commanded by the Holy Virgin to build a church in that very place. The
Bishop, we know, built a church here, founded a monastery, and himself
became first abbot. These events occurred early in the eighth century.
Egwin was a man of high connections and influence, and before long the
new institution was handsomely and sufficiently endowed. Ethelred,
King of Mercia, his nephew Kenred, who succeeded him, and Offa, King
of the East Saxons, being the chief donors.
There is another picturesque legend concerning Egwin, which is
preserved in the coat-of-arms used by the monastery. It appears that
the prelate was falsely charged with certain offences, and to prove
his innocence he made a journey to Rome; but before setting off, he
fastened a chain and horselock to his ankle and threw the key into the
river Avon. On his arrival in the Holy City, a fish was caught by his
companions in whose belly the very key was found which had been cast
into the river before his departure! Another account relates that
the fish who had swallowed the key leapt on board before the
travellers reached their destination! The legend of the foundation of
the Abbey is engraved on the conventual seal in a series of scenes;
and we know it was also depicted in the glass of one of the large
windows in the church.
[Illustration: The Bell Tower Evesham]
How far the events of this early time are historical, how far
traditionary, or even mythical, it is impossible to say, but for many
years afterwards the record gives us merely the scanty information we
should expect. We hear of the depredations of the Danes, and the
destruction by them of the monastery, and later of discords and
dissensions between monks and canons; indeed, it is not until the
reign of Canute that the Benedictines gained complete and final
possession of the Abbey and its estates. The first church and
monastery were probably of wood. Later, in the Saxon period, stone
would have taken its place, but the form was no doubt primitive in the
extreme. The founder's tomb would be the principal treasure, but, as
time went on, other relics were acquired, and many shrines needed to
contain the precious remains.
It was to King Canute that the monks owed the relics of Saint Wistan,
which held the place of honour in the church in mediaeval days. They
were enclosed in a magnificent tomb erected behind the high altar, in
the position occupied by the shrine of Edward the Confessor in the
Abbey Church of Westminster. Soon afterwards we hear of the
acquisition by purchase of the body of Saint Odulf from some
travelling merchants, dealers in relics of sanctity, who, as will be
seen, had no right to have the remains of the saint in their
possession.