CHAPTER IX

OXFORDSHIRE: DERBYSHIRE: NOTTINGHAMSHIRE: WORCESTERSHIRE

DORCHESTER: DALE: NEWSTEAD: EVESHAM

DORCHESTER (_Augustine Canons_)

635, St Birinus, sent to Britain by Pope Honorius, converts Cynegils, King of the west Saxons; is consecrated Bishop of Dorchester, and builds many churches in the district--After the Conquest, William the Conqueror gives the Bishopric of Dorchester to Remigus, a monk of Feschamp in Normandy--1140, Monastery founded by Alexander, third Bishop of Lincoln, for Augustine Canons--1205, King John visits the abbey-1300, South choir aisle added--The monks extend the chancel--1330, South aisle of nave added and used as the parish church--_c._ 1400, East end added--15--, Dissolved--East end of the church purchased by a relation of the last abbot for £140, to prevent its being pulled down and used for building purposes. Annual revenue, £677, 1s. 2d.

The illustrious pile of Dorchester Church stands on the northern bank of the gently flowing river Frome. From the east end of the building the land slants rapidly down to the river side, whilst on either side of the body of the church is pleasant meadow land--the former site, probably, of the conventual buildings. All that remains of these is the guest house to the west of the church. The old Saxon cathedral, used now as the parish church of a country town, is an irregular building, and consists of a nave (Norman) with a south aisle--once used by the monks as their parish church, and containing an altar raised upon three deep steps above which is a blocked-up window--choir (Decorated), having a perfect east window with a protruding central shaft, and also a “Jesse” window on the north side; south choir aisle, in which are two chapels, recently repaired by Sir Gilbert Scott; north choir aisle (part of which is probably Norman work, having a walled-up door to the west--formerly the entrance to the cloisters); a western tower, low and massive in structure and partly Norman work; and lastly, a Perpendicular porch on the south-west angle of the building. Undoubtedly the east end of the church is the most strikingly beautiful part of the edifice.

Exquisite stained glass, and perfect carving of the stone-work in the windows, graceful daintiness of the architecture, costly embroideries and delicate laces on the altars, are among the many beauties of this old abbey church. The “Jesse” window mentioned above is unique. It is of four lights and has intersecting tracery above.

“The centre mullion represents a trunk of a tree with branches ornamented with foliage crossing over the other mullions to the outside jambs. At the foot of the tree is the recumbent figure of Jesse, and at each intersection is a sculptured figure, while others are painted on the glass between; the whole forming a complete genealogical tree of the House of David. The effigy of the King is at the bottom right hand corner, but those representing our Lord and the Virgin Mary have both disappeared. The figures are very quaint and of various sizes; some of those painted in the window still have their names beneath, while most of the others in stone-work have scrolls on which the name was once painted.”--HENRY W. TAUNT, Esq.

The canopied sedilia and double piscina on the south wall of the chancel are both beautiful specimens of early work--the stained glass in the former being the oldest in the building. Many interesting monuments remain, including several stone effigies of knights; a judge of great note; and of Æschwine, Bishop of Dorchester, 979-1002. Monumental brasses too were formerly very plentiful, but, with a few exceptions, have been either ruthlessly destroyed or stolen for money-making purposes at various times. That of Sir Richard Bewfforest, Abbot of Dorchester (1510), dressed as an Augustine canon, lies near the chancel rails on the north side. He was one of the last abbots of the monastery. There is also part of a once magnificent brass to Sir John Drayton, 1417, a portion of another to “William Tanner, Richard Bewfforest and their wife Margaret” (1513), and one of a female figure belonging to “Robert Bedford and Alice his wife” (1491). Only a few shields of other brasses remain, but to the antiquarian the casements of these beautiful memorials contain much that is interesting, showing as they do the diverse and unique character these lost monuments once possessed. Six of the Dorchester bells bear many signs of great antiquity and two more have recently been added. The tradition connected with the former is, that

“Within the sound of the great bell No snake nor adder e’er shall dwell,”

and is attributed to the belief that Birinus was “stung to death with snakes.”

DALE (_Augustine and Præmonstratensian Canons_)

1160, Founded by Augustine Canons--Dedicated to the Virgin Mary--Twice refounded for monks of the Præmonstratensian order--1539, Dissolved.

As so little is standing of this religious establishment, a few words will describe its chief features. The ruins consist only of the arch of the great east window of the chapel, some foundations, bases of pillars and various other relics. The chapel, consisting of nave and chancel, is supposed to have been built, together with the house--now a farm-house peculiarly situated under the same roof as the chapel--by Ralph, the son of Geremund, for a poor hermit whom he found living in a forest cave (the cell can still be seen) close by. Subsequently Serle de Grendon invited canons from Kalke, who came then to Deepdale and established the monastery. Many privileges and immunities were granted to them by the church authorities in Rome, and the abbey was visited at different times by persons of all ranks, some of whom became benefactors to the house.

Howitt, in his _Forest Minstrel_, sketches the history of Dale and the conduct of its inmates thus--

“The devil one night as he chanced to sail In a wintry wind by the abbey of Dale Suddenly stopped and looked with surprise That a structure so fair in that valley should rise. When last he was there it was lonely and still And the hermitage scooped in the side of a hill With its wretched old inmate his beads a-telling Were all he found of life, dweller, or dwelling. The hermit was seen in the rock no more; The nettle and dock had sprung up at the door; And each window the fern and the harts’ tongue hung o’er, Within ’twas dampness and nakedness all; The Virgin, as fair and holy a block As ever yet stood in the niche of a rock, Had fallen to the earth, and was broke in the fall. The holy cell’s ceiling, in idle hour When haymakers sought it to ’scape from the shower Was scored by their forks in a thousand scars-- Wheels and crackers, ovals and stars. But by the brook in the valley below St Mary of Dale! what a lordly show! The abbey’s proud arches and windows bright Glittered and gleamed in the full moonlight.”

But that later corruption set in among these Augustine monks is evident, for Howitt continues that the monks

“Forsook missal and mass To chant o’er a bottle or shrive a lass; No matins bell called them up in the morn, But the yell of the hounds and the sound of the horn; No penance the monk in his cell could stay But a broken leg or a rainy day.”

They were then expelled from Deepdale and Præmonstratensian monks soon filled their place. John Staunton, last abbot, with 16 monks surrendered the abbey in 1539. A full account of the history of this monastic house was written by one of the monks, and through these manuscripts more particulars can be learned of this abbey than of any other in Derby.

NEWSTEAD (_Augustine Canons_)

1170, Founded by Henry II.--1540, Dissolved. Annual revenue, £167, 16s. 11d.--Demesne granted to Sir John Byron, Lieut. of Sherwood Forest, by Henry VIII.--1818, Sold to Colonel Wildman, who enlarges and restores the abbey.--Again restored.

Just as Buckland Abbey possesses more than an ordinary interest in that it became the home of Sir Francis Drake after the Dissolution, so Newstead Abbey boasts a dual attraction. For besides being imbued with the romance and legendary lore inseparable from monastic houses, it came, after the Dissolution of the monasteries, into the possession of the Byron family, and, passing into the hands of the first Lord Byron (1643), then to the “wicked” Lord Byron (1722-98), it eventually became the home of Lord Byron the poet. Most picturesquely placed on the borders of Sherwood Forest, the Newstead Abbey of to-day takes more the form of a private residence than of a monastic ruin. Its undulating and beautifully wooded grounds, containing two sheets of water, extend over many acres. Very little is known of the early history of the abbey beyond the fact that Henry II. built and endowed it in expiation of the murder of Thomas à Becket, and that King John extended his patronage to the house. The modern attraction that Newstead possesses dates from its coming into the hands of the Byrons. The first owner, Sir John Byron, known as “Little John with the great beard,” adapted a portion of the monastic buildings to a private residence, and in the reign of Charles I. the south aisle of the church was converted into a library and reception room.

With the exception of the exceedingly beautiful west front of Early English workmanship, the rest of the church has been allowed to fall into decay. The house itself, so greatly enriched by the poet Byron, is made up of the various monastic offices. The present grand dining-room was once the refectory of the monks, while the original guest chamber, with its grand vaulting, is now converted into the servants’ dining-hall, and the old dormitory into a drawing-room. No alteration has been made in Byron’s arrangements of the abbot’s apartments. Several rooms are still named after the English monarchs who have at various times slept in them. The chapter-house--a building of remarkable beauty to the east of the cloisters--is now used as a chapel for the convenience of the household and tenantry. Within can be seen some richly stained glass and other features of interest. Newstead passed at Byron’s death into the possession of his friend and colleague Colonel Wildman, who greatly restored it. Sir Richard Phillips, in his _Personal Tour_, relates that--

“Colonel Wildman was a schoolfellow in the same form as Lord Byron at Harrow School. In adolescence they were separated at college, and in manhood by their pursuits; but they lived in friendship. If Lord Byron was constrained by circumstances to allow Newstead to be sold, the fittest person living to become its proprietor was his friend Colonel Wildman. He was not a cold and formal possessor of Newstead, but, animated even with the feelings of Byron, he took possession of it as a place consecrated by many circumstances of times and persons, and above all, by the attachment of his friend Byron. The high spirited poet, however, ill brooked the necessity of selling an estate entailed in his family since the Reformation (but lost to him and the family by the improvidence of a predecessor), and retiring into Tuscany, there indulged in those splenetic feelings which mark his later writings.”

No more vivid picture of Newstead has been penned than that of Byron’s in the 13th canto of _Don Juan_--

“To Norman Abbey whirl’d the noble pair, An old, old monastery once, and now Still older mansion,--of a rich and rare Mix’d Gothic, such as artists all allow Few specimens yet left us can compare Withal; it lies perhaps a little low, Because the monks preferred a hill behind, To shelter their devotion from the wind.

“It stood embosom’d in a happy valley, Crown’d by high woodlands, where the Druid oak Stood like Caractacus in act to rally His host, with broad arms ’gainst the thunder-stroke; And from beneath his boughs were seen to sally The dappled foresters; as day awoke, The branching stag swept down with all his herd To quaff a brook which murmur’d like a bird.

“Before the mansion lay a lucid lake, Broad as transparent, deep, and freshly fed By a river, which its soften’d way did take In currents through the calmer water spread Around: the wild fowl nestled in the brake And sedges, brooding in their liquid bed; The woods sloped downwards to its brink, and stood With their green faces fix’d upon the flood.

“Its outlet dash’d into a deep cascade, Sparkling with foam, until again subsiding Its shriller echoes--like an infant made Quiet--sank into softer ripples, gliding Into a rivulet; and thus allay’d, Pursued its course, now gleaming, and now hiding Its windings through the woods; now clear, now blue, According as the skies their shadows threw.

“A glorious remnant of the Gothic pile (While yet the church was Rome’s) stood half apart In a grand arch, which once screen’d many an aisle; These last had disappear’d--a loss to art; The first yet frown’d superbly o’er the soil, And kindled feelings in the roughest heart, Which mourn’d the power of time’s or tempest’s march, In gazing on that venerable arch.

“Within a niche, nigh to its pinnacle, Twelve saints had once stood sanctified in stone; But these had fallen, not when the friars fell, But in the war which struck Charles from his throne, When each house was a fortalice--as tell The annals of full many a line undone-- The gallant cavaliers who fought in vain For those who knew not to resign or reign.

“But in a higher niche, alone, but crown’d, The Virgin-Mother of the God-born child, With her son in her blessed arms, look’d round; Spared by some chance when all beside was spoil’d; She made the earth below seem holy ground, This may be superstition, weak or wild, But even the faintest relics of a shrine Of any worship wake some thoughts divine.

“A mighty window, hollow in the centre, Shorn of its glass of thousand colourings, Through which the deepen’d glories once could enter, Streaming from off the sun like seraph’s wings, Now yawns all desolate: now loud, now fainter, The gale sweeps through its fretwork, and oft sings The owl his anthem, where the silenced quire Lie with their hallelujah quench’d like fire.

“Amidst the court, a Gothic fountain play’d Symmetrical, but decked with carvings quaint-- Strange faces like to men in masquerade, And here perhaps a monster, there a saint; The spring rushed through grim mouths of granite made, And sparkled into basins, where it spent Its little torrent in a thousand bubbles, Like man’s vain glory, and his vainer troubles.

“The mansion’s self was vast and venerable, With more of the monastic than has been Elsewhere preserved: the cloisters still were stable, The cells too, and refectory, I ween: An exquisite small chapel had been able, Still unimpair’d to decorate the scene; The rest had been reform’d, replaced, or sunk, And spoke more of the baron than the monk.

“Huge halls, long galleries, spacious chambers, join’d By no quite lawful marriage of the arts, Might shock a connoisseur: but when combined, Form’d a whole, which, irregular in parts, Yet left a grand impression on the mind, At least of those whose eyes are in their hearts: We gaze upon a giant for his stature, Not judge at first if all be true to nature.”

EVESHAM (_Mitred Benedictine_)

692, Founded by Egwin, Bishop of the Hwicci and dedicated to the Virgin--Egwin subsequently first abbot--709, Kenredus, King of Mercia, and Offa, Governor of the East Angles, endows it with many possessions--941, Secular canons replace the monks--960, Monks again restored--977, Monks expelled once more, and estate given to Godwin--1014, King Ethelred elects Aifwardus, a former monk of Ramsey, abbot of Evesham--1066-87, Walter of Cérisy appointed abbot by William the Conqueror--He rebuilds the church--1163, The abbot receives the mitre--1265, Battle of Evesham, and interment of Earl Simon de Montfort in the Abbey--1539, Tower completed--Abbey dismantled and given to Sir Philip Hoby, who uses the buildings as a quarry. Annual revenue, £1183, 12s. 9d.

In a certain beautiful spot in Worcestershire known as the vale of Evesham, the river Avon, by a curious bend in its course, encloses a piece of meadow land near the borders of Warwick and Gloucestershire. On this peninsula--as it might be called--three most remarkable ancient buildings still stand erect, as if immune from the ravages of time. The tall, graceful bell-tower, with the exception of a ruined archway, is all that can be said to remain of the former abbey. Built at the entrance of the abbey cemetery by the Abbot Lichfield, it is of pure Perpendicular work. Though very massive, yet it has the grace peculiar to English Gothic towers. It is built in three storeys, all parallel, and the whole square structure is crowned by an embattled parapet and delicate pinnacles, the height, roughly speaking, being 110 feet by 20 feet square. In the cemetery, close to the tower and forming with it a most striking group, are the churches of St Lawrence and All Saints. These churches were built in the 13th century by the monks for the convenience of the inhabitants of Evesham and with the intention of reserving the abbey church for the exclusive use of the monks. The church of St Lawrence is of more ancient date than that of All Saints. Of the former, only the tower and the greatly mutilated spire of the original church remain. Both churches, however, boast some exquisite work by Abbot Clement Lichfield, the last abbot, who built a beautiful chapel or chantry in St Lawrence church, desiring that daily masses might be performed there for the repose of his soul. The chantry in All Saints he directed to be his burial place. These chantries have particularly beautiful roofs in the shape of four fans richly ornamented. St Lawrence and All Saints have both been restored and are in use at the present time, under the care of the Vicar of Evesham.

In his _Spiritual Quixote_ Graves writes with great delight of the beautiful vale of Evesham bounded by the Malvern Hills. The town lies on a hill on a well-cultivated plain, and its name, derived (some say) from Eovesham, conveys the impression of its picturesque situation, “the dwelling on the level by the river side.” Another tradition derives the name from Eoves, a shepherd who, having seen in a vision a beautiful woman, attended by two other women, hastened to Bishop Egwin and related his marvellous tale. Egwin, accompanied by his servant, proceeded to the spot where he too was permitted to see and to hold converse with the radiant being. Fully convinced that the Blessed Virgin had personally revealed herself to him, Egwin determined to build a monastery on the spot. Ethelred, King of Mercia, granted land for the purpose, and thus the abbey was founded, Egwin becoming first abbot. According to one writer, Ethelred accused Egwin of tyranny and many bitter things. The matter was referred to the Holy Father at Rome, who commanded Egwin to appear before him and answer the charges. “So to Rome he went, but before starting, to show how lowly he accounted himself, he ordered a pair of iron horse-fetters, and having put his feet into them, caused them to be locked and the key tossed into the Avon. Thus shackled, he went forward to Dover, took ship and came to the Holy City; when, lo, a miracle! his attendants had gone down to the Tiber to catch fish for supper, and scarcely was the line cast when a fine salmon took it and leapt ashore without a struggle to escape. They hurried home with their prize, opened him, and found inside the key of the bishop’s fetters. It is needless to say that the Pope after this made short work of the charges against Egwin. He was sent back to King Ethelred loaded with honours, who lost no time in restoring him to his See and appointing him tutor to his sons.”

Eighteen abbots ruled in succession, when, as was the fate of many other abbeys, Evesham became a source of strife between the secular canons and the monks. It was alternately under control of these two bodies until finally it became a Benedictine settlement. In the reign of William I., Abbot Walter of Cérisy began to rebuild on a scale of grandeur and great magnificence. The church, built in the form of a Latin cross, possessed cylindrical piers of immense size, similar to those of Gloucester. Everything appertaining to the service of the church was solemn and impressive. The vestments were elaborate and costly, and the sacred vessels wrought with solid silver--many of them being enriched with various gems. The tomb of St Egwin was made of gold and studded with sparkling precious stones, while Simon de Montfort’s tomb was credited with miraculous powers by many ailing and weakly pilgrims. These sacred tombs were demolished by the rapacious Henry VIII. in 1539, during his wanton desecration of one of England’s most noble abbeys--the shelter of kings, and the home of religious and God-fearing men.