Evesham written by Edmund H. New
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Edmund H. New >> Evesham
Just beyond is a double cottage dividing the road into two, and on the
right is a shady lane. This is Blayney's Lane, and, as already
mentioned, it was once the London road; by pursuing it we come to the
river meadows and Offenham Ferry. The main road runs straight on, and
leads, through the village of Norton, to Alcester, Stratford,
Birmingham, &c. The way to the left is the old Worcester road, and
skirts the grounds of the Abbey Manor. If we take this lane and
descend the hill we may turn sharply to the left near the bottom and
return to the town by the "New Road"; or walk on a short distance with
Wood Norton--the Duke of Orleans' house--on its wooded slope, in full
view, and follow a lane on the left leading to Chadbury Mill.
The Abbey Manor, with its pretty grounds, is not open to the public.
In addition to the beautiful views obtained from its walks and lawns
it contains many treasures of local interest. Chief among these are
fragments of columns, window tracery, sculpture, and other relics
brought by an ancestor of the present owner, a noted antiquary, from
the site of the Monastery. Here are carefully preserved a splendid
abbatial chair richly carved and of great size, bearing the monastic
arms, and in remarkable preservation; also two quaint effigies of men
in plate armour fashioned in solid oak about three-quarters of the
size of life. These figures stood on the face of the belfry tower,
and, by turning on a pivot, struck the hours; they are in all
probability coeval with that building.
In one of the shrubberies, hidden from public view, is an obelisk
commemorating the fall of Simon de Montfort, and in the plantation
near the lower road is a tower, like the house denoting the period of
the late Georgian Gothic revival, and bearing the name of the Earl of
Leicester.
CHAPTER VII
THE BATTLE OF EVESHAM
_When the barons in armes did King Henrye oppose,_
_Sir Simon de Montfort their leader they chose;_
_A leader of courage undaunted was hee,_
_And oft-times he made their enemyes flee._
_At length in the battle on Eveshame plaine_
_The barons were routed and Montfort was slaine._
--THE BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER OF BEDNALL GREEN.
One of the treasures of the Abbey of Saint Mary and Saint Egwin at
Evesham was the tomb of the great and popular hero Simon de Montfort.
Such tombs were a source of much profit to the ecclesiastical
institutions of those days. Hither pilgrims flocked in great numbers,
particularly on the day specially devoted to the memory of the saint
or martyr, and offerings were made proportionate to the wealth of the
devotee. Not only was it supposed that spiritual advantages could be
gained by devotion at these holy places, but cures innumerable were
believed to have been worked through the intercession of the departed
spirit. Hence the great monasteries often partook of the nature of our
present-day hospitals, "the maimed, and the halt, and the blind"
thronging thither; and, if at first unsuccessful, trying shrine after
shrine in the hope of eventual restoration to health.
Though de Montfort was not canonised as a saint and martyr, yet he
appears to have been regarded in such a light by the common people,
and among the archives of the Monastery was preserved a long list of
accredited cures and miracles reported to have been worked at his
tomb.
It was on the morning of Tuesday, August 4th, 1265, that the memorable
battle, ending in the death of Simon de Montfort, was fought. Earl
Simon was travelling on the previous day from the neighbourhood of
Worcester to join his eldest son, also named Simon, at Kenilworth.
With the Earl was King Henry the Third as prisoner or hostage, and on
the night of Monday, the 3rd of August, the Earl and his retinue were
received as guests in the Abbey, his army being quartered or encamping
in the town.
Prince Edward, King Henry's eldest son, was in the neighbourhood with
a large army, but his movements for some days past were unknown to de
Montfort. On the Saturday before the arrival of the Barons' army at
Evesham the Prince had surprised the younger Simon at Kenilworth,
killed or taken as prisoners the greater part of his army, and seized
all the baggage and standards. The same day he had returned to
Worcester and joined the Earl of Gloucester and Roger Mortimer, both
leading considerable forces.
Thus we see the Earl, with his adherents, resting at Evesham,
unconscious of the fact that, unaided, he must soon face three
powerful foes. Next day saw his fate decided.
Early on Tuesday morning all was stir and bustle in the Monastery and
in the little town. The troops were preparing to depart at daybreak
towards Kenilworth, where father and son were to meet and arrange
their future tactics. In the early dawn Nicholas, the Earl's barber,
ascended one of the towers of the Abbey, and, gazing northwards, over
Green Hill he descried soldiers bearing standards which were evidently
those of the younger Simon. For a few moments joy prevailed at the
thought of so happy a meeting; but this feeling soon gave place to
anxiety and dread. Closer examination showed that though the standards
were those of the Earl's son the soldiers who carried them were not
Simon's but Prince Edward's followers. In a moment all was clear: the
younger Simon had been defeated, perhaps slain, and de Montfort must
fight single-handed or yield his cause ingloriously. Retreat over the
bridge by which the army had entered the town was useless, for soon
it became known that Roger Mortimer was following the route the barons
had taken the day before, and would soon be on their rear. With the
river on both sides of them, and both ways blocked by enemies, two
alternatives alone presented themselves, to fight or to yield. To add
to the hopelessness of their position the Earl of Gloucester, with his
army, was now joining Prince Edward by the upper Worcester road. De
Montfort knew that against such odds the fight would be a hopeless
one, and urged his supporters to flee while there was yet time, and
not to lose their lives in an unavailing struggle; but none would
desert their leader in the hour of peril. "Then," exclaimed the Earl,
"may the Lord have mercy on our souls for our bodies are in the power
of our enemies."
* * * * *
It is recorded that on this fatal Tuesday all the elements seemed to
unite in adding horror to the scene of carnage. Shortly before this a
great comet had made men fear and wonder; and now, on this morning the
sky was overcast with such dense clouds that the land was in darkness;
so black were the heavens that nothing like it had been known within
the memory of man. A violent tempest, with a deluge of rain and
terrific thunder and lightning, swept over the country. The terrified
monks could not see their books as they chanted the Psalms in the
darkened choir, and as they sat in the refectory they could not tell
what food lay upon their trenchers.
Meanwhile the battle raged on the hill above the town; desperately the
barons fought, but, one by one, they fell overpowered by numbers.
Though the earl was sixty-five years of age he fought "stoutly, like a
giant, for the liberties of England" to the end.
We will not dwell on the horror of the battle. Popular tradition still
points to the spot where the great leader was slain, and there, beside
a spring called Battlewell, was placed a sacred rood. Two young de
Montforts fell by their father's side, and many barons, knights, and
common soldiers; but few fled. The stragglers from the defeated army
were, many of them, slaughtered, as they attempted their escape; and
by Offenham Ferry, where in those times probably stood a bridge, there
is a meadow, once an island, which to this day bears the name of
"Deadman's Ait." The chroniclers tell of the shameful mutilation of
the earl's corpse, and how the limbs were distributed through the
country, but the dismembered body was buried reverently by the monks
in the most sacred part of their church, even before the High Altar.
The severed hands were sent by a servant to the wife of Roger
Mortimer, at Wigmore Castle in Shropshire. They arrived, so says the
legend, while the Mass was being celebrated, and, at the raising of
the Host, they were seen, before the bag containing them was opened,
clasped in the attitude of prayer above the head of the messenger. In
fear and trembling, Lady Mortimer returned the bloody trophy.
Prince Edward himself attended the funeral of Henry de Montfort, his
cousin and friend, in the Abbey church.
"Such," sings Robert of Gloucester, "was the murder of Evesham, for
battle none it was."
As in the case of other national heroes of old times, popular fancy
was allowed to play unfettered round the memory of this noble family.
In the well-known ballad preserved by Bishop Percy, of "The Beggar's
Daughter of Bednall Green," it is imagined that Henry de Montfort was
rescued at night from the field of battle while still living, by "a
baron's faire daughter," in search of her father's body; that she
nursed him, and that, on his recovery they married, their daughter
being "prettye Bessee."
The miracles we read of, and to which reference has been made, are
many and varied. For some time the fear of royal censure and
punishment prevented cures being openly attributed to "Saint Simon,"
but it was not long before the fame of his healing power spread, and
persons were brought from all parts of the country to "be measured by"
Earl Simon and restored to health. The process of "measuring" was as
simple as it appears to have been effective. It merely consisted in a
cord which had previously been placed round the relics being made to
meet round the body of the invalid whether man or animal.
The first "miracle" we hear of concerns a dumb boy who fell asleep at
the shrine of Saint Robert at Lincoln, whither he had been taken to be
cured, and in this state he remained from the Saturday preceding the
battle until the Monday, when, suddenly awaking, gifted with the power
not only of speech but prophecy, he informed those who stood around
that Saint Robert had gone to Evesham to aid Earl Simon who would be
slain in the battle there on the morrow! The monkish manuscript goes
on to relate cures of various diseases performed on man and beast,
personal apparitions, "judgements" falling on scoffers, accounts of
the dead restored to life and many other marvels credible or
incredible according to the inclination of the reader. One of the
"judgements" may be given as an example, showing, by the way, the
manners of some of the clergy of that date.
A certain chaplain named Philip had been openly abusing the Earl, and
by way of an oath exclaimed, "If he is a saint, as reported, I wish
the devil may break my neck, or some miracle may befall me before I
reach home." As he returned homewards, being on horseback, and a
servant with him, he saw a hare on the road, and spurring onward in
chase fell headlong from his horse. His manservant who had likewise
abused Earl Simon "was seized by the devil" and remained insane "from
the Feast of St. John the Baptist to the translation of St. Benedict."
In 1279 it is reported how, at Whitsuntide a man wheeled his wife,
whose life was despaired of, from the parish of Saint Bride's in Fleet
Street, London, all the way to Evesham in a wheelbarrow, to visit
"Saint Simon's" relics.
For this brief account of the de Montfort miracles I am indebted to a
paper by Mr. Oswald G. Knapp, and from the same source I transcribe
the following translation of a hymn written in honour of the reputed
"saint and martyr" which concludes the ancient chronicle:--
"Hail, de Montfort, martyr glorious!
Noblest flower of chivalry!
O'er the pains of death victorious,
England's saviour, praise to thee.
More than all the saints in story,
Ere they gained their rest in glory,
Thou of cruel wrongs hast borne;
Foully foes thy corpse insulted,
O'er thy head and limbs exulted
From thy mangled body torn.
Once of wrongs the great redresser
Be thou now our intercessor,
Pray for us with God on high."
"Pray for us, blessed Simon, that we may be made worthy to obtain the
promises of Christ."
CHAPTER VIII
CAVALIERS AND ROUNDHEADS
"_Who was he that went out from the command at Gloucester in such a
blaze, to adde glory unto conquest, and crown hit actions with a
never-dying honour, when he took the strong garrisoned Evesham in a
storme of fire and leaden haile; the loss whereof did make a king shed
tears? Was it not Massey_?"
--CONTEMPORARY PAMPHLET.
Once more the peaceful vale was destined to become a field of battle.
At an early stage in the conflict between King and people Evesham was
fortified and garrisoned by the Royal party, and Samuel Sandys was
appointed military governor. The exact nature of the fortifications we
cannot exactly know, but it is certain they were complete, and
sufficient to withstand a siege if properly manned. A ditch, and
rampart of earth surmounted by timber palisades was the probable form
of defence, but no signs of such earthworks now remain, and the
position of them is unknown.
King Charles paid his first visit early in July, 1644, and he is said
to have stayed in what was at that time a large house, probably
gabled, with projecting bay windows, on the north side of Bridge
Street. This mansion, for it was no less though now divided into
shops, was the town house of the Langstones, an influential family in
the neighbourhood. Here the King remained two nights, and from "our
Court at Evesham" he despatched a conciliatory message "To the Lords
and Commons of Parliament assembled at Westminster."
Sir William Waller, the Parliamentary general, was hanging in the rear
of the royal army, and so without more delay the King moved towards
Worcester, taking with him the garrison, guns, and ammunition. Before
leaving, the army partly destroyed the outworks and rendered the
bridge over the river impassable. The townspeople were evidently more
in sympathy with the Roundheads than the Cavaliers, for on the
departure of the royal forces they immediately repaired the bridge,
and Waller entered and remained some days before following the chase.
A week later the King returned, on his way back to the loyal city of
Oxford, much to the dismay of the inhabitants. For their rebellious
behaviour a fine of two hundred pounds was imposed on the borough, and
in addition to this they were forced to provide the royal army with a
thousand pairs of shoes.
A year later we find the King once more passing through Evesham. This
time he left a garrison in charge of the town under Colonel Legge. But
Evesham was too important a place in this conflict, being a connecting
link between the "loyal cities" of Worcester and Oxford, to be left in
the hands of the King's party unchallenged. Almost immediately, in the
same month of May, 1645, Colonel Massey, Governor of Gloucester, with
a troop of horse and foot collected from the neighbouring counties,
attacked the town, and after vainly calling upon Colonel Legge to
yield, they assailed the fortifications at the bridge and in five
other places at the same time. After a short but hard fought encounter
the Royalists surrendered, and until the end of the struggle Evesham
remained in the hands of the Parliament.
On the 29th of May the House of Commons ordered the Speaker to convey
their thanks to the colonel and his officers in acknowledgment of
their great service.
CHAPTER IX
THE RIVER
_There is a willow grows aslant a brook,_
_That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;_
_There with fantastic garlands did she come,_
_Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples._
--SHAKESPEARE: Hamlet.
In tracing the history of our little town from its origin it has often
been observed how important a part has been played in its fortunes by
the river that flows through and partly encircles it. It is to the
river that the town owes its position, and its very existence probably
depended upon the advantages which the stream provided. To the early
settlers a good supply of water and natural means of protection were
necessary to life, and both these were offered by this narrow tongue
of land.
For a long period the river was of little use for traffic, and not
until the seventeenth century was it made properly navigable. Now,
through the neglect of the owners of the navigation rights, it is once
more reverting in places to its primitive character. From Evesham to
Tewkesbury the stream is still in good order, but for a short
distance only towards Stratford-on-Avon.
Apart from the fascination exercised on the mind by the ever changing
surface of water, varied and rippled by motion and by wind, the beauty
of this river is mainly due to the delicate and varied foliage of the
willows and other trees which grow freely beside it, the luxuriant
growth of flowers along its banks--"of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies,
and long purples"--and the variety of blossoming water plants. Few
trees are more graceful than the willow when a slight breeze fans its
branches, mingling the "hoar leaves" with the grey green of the upper
side of the foliage; and many, before and since Shakespeare, have
preserved in the "inward eye" such a vision, reflected in "the glassy
stream" or more usually in the slightly ruffled surface below. The
level meadows, or sloping banks, which skirt the stream have a quiet
charm, and beautiful indeed are they in June, when thickly carpetted
with buttercups and ox-eye daisies. At almost every turn rise the blue
hills, completing the landscape and throwing the sunny meadows into
relief.
We can hardly realise to ourselves the protective value of the river
in old times without rowing both up and down the stream for a mile or
more. Above the town, before reaching the railway bridge we should
look back and notice how steeply the land rises from the river on this
side. On the margin is the mill, and above are the houses, roof over
roof, descending again in steps to the river bridge. At the top is the
Bell Tower, and the church spires are seen near it. From the railway
embankment, or the higher ground beyond, the best picture which the
town affords is to be seen. Below us winds the river, and over the
meadows on an eminence is the cluster of houses forming the town; as a
background we have Bredon Hill, delicately outlined, or dark blue as
if overhanging the vale.
Beyond the bridge we soon come to a picturesquely-situated farmhouse,
standing on a steep bank, and looking down upon the meadows. This is
the Parks Farm, and all the fields on this side bordering the river
were once the deer park of the great Abbey. Presently we reach
Offenham Ferry, while a little beyond, set back behind willow trees
and plough-land, is the village; and we soon catch sight of the old
church tower peering over the bank. At the further extremity of the
village, quite near the bank, is the "Court" farm, once protected by a
moat fed by the river, and used by the Evesham Abbots as a country
retreat. Hither Clement Lichfield, the last Abbot, retired on his
resignation, and here he probably died.
The village of Offenham is peculiar in lying away from any main road,
and this gives it an air of repose and antiquity, which is pleasant in
these days. Whether the place owes its name to Offa, King of Mercia,
is an open question, but according to tradition this monarch owned
land and had a palace here, the site of which is pointed out by the
villagers.
Beside the ferry we have passed there was in old times a bridge, and
still, when the water is very low, the solid foundations of the piers
may be seen with pointed buttresses facing up and down the stream.
When this bridge was destroyed no one can tell; but once upon a time
the road from Worcester to London came over Green Hill, and leaving
Evesham more than a mile to the south, descended the steep hill where
now a grass-grown track marks its course, crossing the river by this
bridge. The farm on the right bank is known by the name of Twyford,
and so we guess that the creek which leaves the main stream a little
way above the ferry once continued its course, forming an island with
a ford on either side. Deadman's Ait is the traditional name of this
island field, and it is supposed some of the stragglers from the
battle of 1265 were slain here while attempting to escape by the ford
or bridge.
The irregularity of the river banks, now nearly level with the water,
sloping gently upwards, or steep and at times almost precipitous, is
much marked as we proceed on our way up the stream. After passing some
gardens, and a steep bank overgrown with gorse, the sluggish stream
quickens its pace, and we soon reach an abrupt turn where the current
is met by an unyielding wall of lias. Under the bare limestone the
water is deep and rushes swiftly, but above, the bank is covered with
tangled growth of blackberry and wild clematis, and in spring the
ground beneath the trees is blue with hyacinths. This sudden turn is
Norton Corner, and though no signs of that village can be seen it
stands hardly a mile away over the ridge of fields. The whole course
we have come may be followed on foot by the old tow-path from the
mill. From this point, after crossing the railway, a farm road will
take us to the end of the village; or we may take the footpath through
the arch beneath the line that we passed a few hundred yards further
down.
After leaving Norton Corner by boat, the river, for a space slow and
easy, soon becomes swift, and as we approach the ruins of an old lock
the passage is attended with difficulties by reason of the shallow
water and the stony bed. If we successfully pass these rapids and gain
the next mill further progress is easy, but the mill can only be
passed by lifting the boat over the steep weir. On the way we pass
the old Fish and Anchor Inn, and a new ford calculated rather for the
convenience of vehicles than of boating parties. From the "Fish and
Anchor" we may ascend the long ridge of Cleeve Bank, and command a
fine view of the valley and the winding of the stream below.
Harvington Mill is at our feet, and the spire of the village church is
visible beyond; further up the stream, some distance beyond the
hanging wood, is Cleeve Mill, one of the prettiest spots on the river.
The village of Cleeve Prior lies behind the bank, and there may be
seen, besides the picturesque cottages and church, the old Manor, now
a farmhouse, with a quaint avenue of box, elaborately clipped, leading
to the front door. Over the fields on the further bank are the
Salfords, and among the trees the curved gables of a fine old Jacobean
mansion may be distinguished. The next place of interest on the stream
is Bidford with its many arched bridge of mediaeval date.
If we follow the downward course of the Avon we find ourselves making
a circuit of the town; for a considerable distance the Bell Tower does
not leave us but seems to follow our boat, and ever and anon it
reappears over the meadows and among the trees on our right hand.
Hampton Church stands on rising ground, among the trees, on our left,
and soon we are at Hampton Ferry. If we prefer the walk we can take a
footpath by the bridge or the Bell Tower, and follow the winding
stream to this point. According to the old chronicles a church was
built at Hampton, in the reign of Canute, by Leofric and Godiva, so
well known in the regions of romance, and they gave land here to the
Abbey. The church we see was built and rebuilt by the Monastery, but
whether on the ancient site we know not. It is a small but beautiful
example of perpendicular architecture, and with the dark spreading yew
tree, the remains of the old cross, and the delicately weathered
tombstones, it makes a picture upon which the eye dwells with calm
satisfaction.
The hill above the ferry is Clark's Hill, and the bank we are told was
terraced by the monks of old as a vineyard. Whether tradition is true
to facts we cannot surely say; a field beyond the ridge still bears
the name of the vineyard, and this may have been the actual site. The
ascent of the steep bank is rewarded on a clear day by the splendid
panorama which lies around. From the terrace walk we look down upon
the town, noticing with regret the predominating hues of brick and
slate which mark the modern suburbs; but the old tower, the churches,
and the gatehouse, despoiled but yet dignified, unconsciously hold
the eye. The old wall of the Abbey precincts ended here at the river,
and beside it runs Boat Lane, which would bring us out on the Green.
Looking down the stream, over the railway bridges, we see Green Hill,
with the Abbey Manor and its grounds the most prominent feature. At
some little distance to the right of the house is a grassy comb, and
at the upper end is the spring to which legend points as the spot
where Simon de Montfort was slain, and which still bears the name
Battlewell.