Читать книгу The Antiquities of Bridgnorth; With Some Historical Notices of the Town and Castle - George Bellett - Страница 4

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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 πυργος, ‘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:—