CHAPTER VI
KENILWORTH AND ITS PRIORY—THE STORY AND ROMANCE OF KENILWORTH CASTLE
Kenilworth, which is prettily situated, and lies almost equidistant between Warwick and Coventry, and about five miles direct north of the former town, is reached by the turnpike road passing Guy’s Cliff, the beautiful Blakedown Mill, which existed prior to the reign of Henry II., and Chessford Bridge. Few who visit Kenilworth at the present day would imagine that this quiet, straggling country town, with a population of about four thousand, could ever have played the important part it did in the history and romance of the county and the nation at large.
Kenilworth of to–day at first sight gives the traveller the impression of being merely a sleepy town, with the architecture of its long main street, which is a full mile in length, picturesquely broken up by the interspersing of modern and older buildings. Few, indeed, would suppose that any manufacture of the slightest importance could occupy the thoughts or the energies of its inhabitants; but there are still some carried on amid its rural surroundings.
One of the most interesting buildings in Kenilworth is the old Elizabethan House, standing just beyond the King’s Arms Hotel, at which Sir Walter Scott put up when visiting the place in 1820. Over the door of the house, which is of two stories, is a wooden panel on which is carved a representation of the bear and ragged staff, with the initials R. L., standing for Robert Leicester. The building was in former times one of the lodges of the castle, to which the roadway passing the house leads, thus forming the principal approach. In this house, tradition asserts, Amy Robsart used to stay, and there is at least a tradition that years ago a secret underground passage was discovered leading from the house to the castle.
Although prettily situated, Kenilworth does not nowadays possess any great attractions other than its castle. But on the slope to the east of the latter, and slightly below the level of the Coventry Road, is the church, consisting of a western tower and spire, nave with aisles, transepts, and a chancel with a south aisle or Lady Chapel of considerable interest. The nave and tower date from the fourteenth century, and on the western side of the latter a very beautiful Norman doorway, probably removed from the adjacent priory, has been inserted. This door, which is well worth the study of those interested in architecture, possesses three receding arches, the first fluted, the second beak–headed, and the third embattled, encircled by a nail–headed band, and the whole enclosed in an ornamental square, having a border of diaper–work and cable moulding. There is also a patera in each spandril.
The old entrance to the rood loft may be seen on the north side of the chancel arch, now blocked up. On the south side is a very good example of a lychnoscope. The chancel contains a piscina and a circular font, dating from the middle of the seventeenth century. In the lower belfry is a boat–shaped leaden casting, weighing about a ton, and bearing the seal of one of Henry VIII.’s Commissioners, probably impressed upon it at the time of his visit, with reference to the Dissolution of the priory hard by, amongst the ruins of which the casting was found in 1888.
There would appear to be little doubt that this “pig” forms part of the leaden roof of the priory, for in different accounts relating to the suppression of the religious foundations throughout the country there are many records of the melting down of the lead covering the roofs, in order that it might be turned into cash. The ancient Communion plate belonging to the church is of great interest, and includes a chalice, dating from about 1570, the gift of the Earl of Leicester; a flagon, paten, and chalice given by the Duchess of Dudley in 1638; and another less ornamental chalice given in 1644 by the Countess of Monmouth. The church was somewhat relentlessly and badly restored in 1865.
The priory was a foundation of the Augustinians or Black Canons, the full title of whom was the Canons Regular of St. Augustine. The house was founded about the year 1122 by Geoffrey de Clinton.
As we have before said, the chief attraction of Kenilworth nowadays is its ruined castle, a magnificent and impressive red sandstone pile, now overgrown with ivy and, alas, crumbling yearly into greater decay, which in ancient times saw so much of the stir, pageantry, and circumstance of life. And even if some of the legends and tales connected with this truly wonderful building have little foundation in actual fact, there is still much of unimpeachable history and romance welded into its very fabric.
The glamour of Kenilworth is undeniable, and doubtless has been not a little added to from the fact that so great and vivid a descriptive writer as Sir Walter Scott made it the locale of one of his most popular and perhaps most readable novels. That his history is not entirely accurate has little or nothing to do with the enjoyment of the book by the general reader, nor does it militate against the interest aroused in the fine ruins of the castle which he made the scene of so much pageantry and romance.
The name of Kenilworth is probably derived from the Saxon owner Kenulph or Kenelm, and “worthe,” signifying a dwelling–place; but in the Domesday Book it is called Chenewrd, and in some Charters Chenille Wurda, the “worthe” or manor of Chenil. Whether the original owner of the manor was one named Chenil, or Kenelm the Mercian, there is no satisfactory evidence, but Dugdale associates the name with the latter, and this, indeed, seems the more probable derivation. One thing appears certain, however, namely, that the original founder of Kenilworth was a man of considerable position, because his buhr or keep and its earthworks were both extensive and strong.
BADDESLEY CLINTON HALL.
At the period of the Domesday Book the manor of Kenilworth was a portion of the royal manor of Stoneleigh, and was divided into two parts, known as “Opton or Upton, containing three hides, held direct of the King by Albertus Clericus, in pure alms; and Chineworde, held by Ricardus Forestarius. Opton is upper–town or high–town, the rising ground to the north of the present church. Chineworth is Kenilworth proper.” It seems probable that Chineworth is a corruption of the name Kenilworth.
The ancient history of the castle is, owing to the great alterations made by succeeding owners and the absence of records, very difficult to trace, though it is quite certain that the owner of the manor during Saxon times, as was usual, fortified the best position by earthworks, and also probably erected an earthen keep. The exact site of the latter is quite an open question, as is the point as to which of the earthworks now traceable date back to the far remote period of Saxon times. Indeed, until the reign of Henry I. the history of the castle is largely speculative. Some authorities incline to the view that the site of the present buildings was in Roman times that of a fort, temporary or otherwise; which the Saxon chief afterwards selected, adopted, and enlarged, that it might afford shelter and security for his own flocks and herds which roamed the Arden, and even those also of his immediate dependants.
Kenilworth and its several owners during the Middle Ages saw many vicissitudes and several tragic events. In the Barons’ War it changed hands several times, and among its most famous owners was Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, who led the Barons against King Henry III.
Many royal visits were paid during the succeeding reigns, and Edward II. was deposed in the Great Hall, and afterwards kept a prisoner in the castle.
In 1563 Kenilworth was granted by Queen Elizabeth to her favourite, Robert Dudley, who in the following year was created Earl of Leicester. Soon after coming into possession of this magnificent fortress dwelling he set about to make radical alterations. We are told that he “gutted the keep and forebuilding, afterwards fitting them up in the Tudor style, and also erected the pile of buildings which are known by his name, and rebuilt the Gallery Tower on the outer end of the dam, and probably added an upper story to the great barn.” One of his finest additions was undoubtedly the great gate–house on the north side, by which means he turned what had formerly been the rear of the castle into the front, approaching it from the road crossing the valley instead of from the side of the fields and lake. It is considered by several authorities, too, that it was probably he who later on filled up the ditch of the inner ward. The building material he used was ashlar, and although the work was not badly done, it was probably carried out too rapidly, and was, therefore, not of a very substantial or lasting character. Afterwards, when the castle was allowed to fall into disrepair, and the roofs and floors disappeared, the walls soon gave way and became unsafe.
Doubtless with a view of entertaining his royal mistress, who visited the castle in 1566, 1568, 1572, and 1575, Robert Dudley spent an immense sum on his alterations, which has been variously estimated from fifty to seventy–five thousand pounds: a sum which in those days, of course, represented a far greater amount than would appear at first sight. Although no doubt Queen Elizabeth was entertained right royally on the occasions of all her visits, it was the last one, which began on Saturday 9th of July, and did not end until the 26th, that is most historically famous by reason of the extraordinarily lavish and interesting character of its entertainments prepared for the Queen.
From contemporary accounts—all the revels were chronicled in detail by Laneham, an attendant on the Queen—we gather at least some idea of what these famous festivities were like. The Queen was met, whilst still distant from the castle several hundred yards, by a person dressed to represent “one of the ten sibills cumly clad in a pall of white sylk, who pronounced a proper poezie in English rime and meeter.” This service “Her Majestie benignly accepted, and passed foorth into the next gate of the Brayz, which, for the length, largenes, and use, they now call the Tylt–yard.”
Immediately on entering the latter the porter, a huge fellow, who is recorded to have been so overcome with a sense of the Queen’s majesty that he scarcely knew what to do, presented the keys to the Queen. This ceremony finished, six trumpeters, dressed in loose, silken garments, who stood upon the wall over the gateway, blew a fanfare of welcome, whilst “her Highness, all along this Tilt–yard, rode into the inner gate, where a person representing the Lady of the Lake (famous in King Arthur’s Book), with two Nymphes waiting upon her, arrayed all in sylks, attended her Highness coming.” These beings appeared suddenly on a floating island in the lake blazing with torches, and made a speech of welcome to the Queen, which ended with music; the speech which was made by the Lady of the Lake narrated the “auncientee of the castle,” and the dignities and titles of the Earls of Leicester, and concluded with the following verse:—
Wherefore, I will attend while you lodge here,
(Most peerless Queene) to Court to make resort;
And as my love to Arthure did appeere,
So shal’t to you in earnest and in sport.
A special road had been made by which the Queen entered the castle, a bridge 20 feet wide and 70 feet long having been constructed across the dry valley leading to the castle gates, for her to pass over. The posts erected on either side bore trays and bowls containing gifts from the gods, which a poet had been engaged especially to present to her. These consisted of rare fruits from Pomona, corn from Ceres, wine from Bacchus, a cage of wild fowl from Silvanus, sea fish from Neptune, weapons from Mars, and musical instruments from Phœbus. Her Majesty then passed into the inner court, and (again quoting the ancient account) “thear set doun from her palfrey was conveied up to a chamber, when after did follo a great peal of Gunz and lightning by Fyr–work.”
One can well imagine that the Queen must have been fatigued by her reception, which seems to have included several recitals in addition to the Latin poem, which was read to her by a poet clad “in a long ceruleous Garment with a Bay Garland on his head and a skrol in his hand.”
The festivities thus inaugurated lasted for seventeen days, and included nearly every conceivable amusement popular in those days. There were hunting parties, dances, and theatrical representations, fireworks on the lake, bear baitings, Italian tumblers, tilting at the Quintain, a country Bride–ale or marriage feast, and Morrice dancing, the performers for the latter entertainment being probably drawn from Long Marston, near Stratford–on–Avon, which in those days was famous for them. Most elaborate aquatic sports were also given on the lake, where a Triton appeared riding on a mermaid 18 feet long, accompanied by Arion on a dolphin, from the interior of each of which proceeded hidden music of a delightful character. In addition to all these things the Coventry players made a special journey to give their ancient play called “Hocks Tuesday,” which depicted scenes from the incidents of the massacre of the Danes in the reign of King Ethelred.
With these latter performances it is recorded the Queen expressed herself as greatly pleased, giving to the players a couple of fat bucks and five marks in money for a feast.
Leicester not only entertained the Queen, but crowds of other folk seem to have enjoyed the open house provided, and we are told by Laneham that “The Clok Bell sang not a Note, all the while her Highness waz thear: the Clok also stood still withall; the handz of both the tablz stood firm and fast, allweys pointing at 2 a’Clok,” this being the usual banqueting hour.
Some idea of the cost of the festivities, which is stated by some authorities to have amounted to at least a thousand a day, may be gained from the fact that no less than 320 hogsheads of beer were drunk. The Queen marked her approval of the entertainment provided by knighting five gentlemen, amongst whom were Sir Thomas Cecil, son and heir to the Lord High Treasurer Sir Henry Cobham, and Sir Francis Stanhope; and it would appear that she also touched for the King’s Evil, as a record exists that “Nyne persons were cured of the peynful and daungerous deseaz called the King’s Evil.” All of the masques were written specially for the occasion; a good number of them by George Gascoigne, and may be found in his well–known account of the festivities, entitled “Princely Pleasures at Kenilworth.”
As is well known, Sir Walter Scott in his novel describes Amy Robsart as being present at Kenilworth in 1575. This idea, however, is entirely erroneous, as indeed are many other incidents recorded in the tale. She died at Cumnor Place fifteen years before this royal pageant, and it seems probable that her death occurred prior to the granting of the castle to Leicester; although she may possibly have passed through Kenilworth on a journey, as there is an old tradition to this effect at Moreton Morrell.
Very briefly, the real facts concerning Amy Robsart are as follows. The only legitimate child of Sir John Robsart of Siderstern, she was born in 1532, and was married at the age of eighteen on 4th June, at the Royal Palace of Sheen, to Lord Dudley, in the presence of Edward VI. and many members of the Court. She lived chiefly in the country during the time that her husband was in attendance on the Court, and ten years after her marriage, in 1560, was residing at Cumnor Place, rented from William Owen, a son of George Owen, who had been one of the physicians to King Henry VIII. At this time there were staying with her a Mrs. Odingsells, sister of Mr. Hyde, and Mrs. Owen, wife of the owner of the house.
It was on Sunday, 8th September, that she was found dead at the foot of a staircase, with her neck broken, by the servants, who had been allowed to visit the fair at Abingdon. In due course an inquest was held, and full inquiry made into the circumstances of her death, but nothing was discovered in the least implicating any one as accessory to it.
Although Robert Dudley was undoubtedly secretly married at the time of his Sovereign’s visit to Kenilworth, it was not to Amy Robsart. Four years previous to the Queen’s visit he had engaged himself to Lady Douglas Sheffield, whom he had privately married in May two years later, a son, Robert, being shortly afterwards born to them. This marriage (concerning the legality of which there seems to be some doubt) he ultimately endeavoured to repudiate, and at the time of the festivities at Kenilworth he was actually carrying on a clandestine intrigue with Lettice, Countess of Essex, whose husband died in the following year.
In 1578, although Lady Douglas Sheffield was alive, he married Lady Lettice, who was a daughter of Sir Francis Knollys, and a son was born to them, who, however, died in 1584. On Leicester’s death it was found that he had bequeathed the castle for life to his brother Ambrose, Earl of Warwick, and after him to his son by Lady Douglas Sheffield, whom he termed Sir Robert Dudley.
The only portion now habitable of what was anciently one of the finest baronial fortress homes in the kingdom is Leicester’s magnificent gate–house, which many authorities are agreed equals in its size and beauty of architecture many a manor–house itself. The old–time entrance passage of this gate–house nowadays forms two rooms and small additions. The magnificent fireplace in one of the rooms of the house is said to be a relic brought from the castle, probably at the time of its dismantlement by the Parliamentarians.
MAXSTOKE CASTLE.
The entrance to the castle is through a small gateway, a few yards distant from the gate–house; and after passing through a strip of garden the outer court of the castle is reached, and an impressive and fairly extensive view of the whole building is obtained.
On the right–hand side are the remains of the buildings which in former times formed the northern side of the inner court, with the once extensive stables, just visible on the left through a small shrubbery, with the circular Lunn’s Tower some forty feet in height close to them, and projecting from the curtain. The tower has two upper floors with fireplaces, and to one of these has been given (why it is not discoverable) the title of the King’s Chamber. The loopholes are all splayed on the inside, to assist in the discharge of arrows, and on the outside wall are holes, in which were placed beams to support the wooden galleries, called “hoards,” which enabled the defenders to have a command of the walls, and thus make it impossible for the attacking force to obtain shelter by keeping close to them. The entrance to the tower was blown up during the Civil War in the reign of Charles I.
The stabling, which is on the ground floor, of stone, and the upper part mostly of timber and brick, has in the centre a large porch and a wide entrance, as though this part of the building was once used for the purpose of a barn. The work is chiefly in the Late Perpendicular style, although traditionally of a much earlier date.
Mortimer’s Tower lies at the other end of the stable buildings, past the warder’s chamber, and is at the castle end of the tilt–yard or dam. Why called Mortimer’s Tower has never been satisfactorily settled, as although Scott and some other writers believe that it took its name from the Earl of March, who played the principal part in the great tournament in the reign of Edward I., and may possibly have lodged in it, others incline to the view that it derived it from the circumstance of a Sir John Mortimer having been imprisoned in it during the reign of Henry V. As a fact, the tower is more properly to be considered a strong double gateway, leading into the tilt–yard, and formerly provided with two portcullises and a double set of gates. Remains of chambers on either side are discoverable, the one on the left hand possessing a garderobe; the outer entrance is defended by two half–round towers, which are pierced with loopholes for repelling attack. The tower gateway leads out upon the high bank, which was originally a portion of the dam of the great lake, and was used as a tilt–yard. It extends for a distance of about eighty yards to the Gallery Tower placed at the end of this isthmus–like strip of land, which in ancient times separated the lower lake from the great lake. The Gallery Tower, however, cannot now be reached from the tilt–yard, owing to the fact that a deep cutting was made through the dam for the purpose of draining off the waters from the lake, but it can be seen embowered in trees from the castle side of the cutting. This name was probably derived from the fact that in ancient times it was furnished with “a broad and fair gallery, set aside for the use of the ladies, who were thus able to witness in comfort the jousts and feats of chivalry which took place in the tilting–yard,” and also a “spacious and noble room” for the same purpose. It was through this gate that Queen Elizabeth made her entry into the castle, and from it to the other gate the special bridge had been constructed across the lake.
The “Brayz,” which are huge mounds of earth, once forming formidable outworks to the castle, now overgrown by trees and underwood, probably derived the name from the Norman–French braie, meaning a low rampart; although another authority seems to think that the word was derived from “brayda,” a suburban field or broad place.
Near the Water Tower, which is situated almost midway between Lunn’s Tower and Mortimer’s Tower, can be traced the foundations of the castle chapel, built by John of Gaunt. The tower is an interesting example of architecture, in the ground–floor room of which, possibly originally a kitchen, is a fine fireplace. The upper chamber, from which a good view of Lunn’s Tower is obtained across the long, picturesque, and weather–stained roof of the stables, is known as the Queen’s Chamber; why, there is no record to tell, and it is, therefore, probable that the name is a fanciful one. The Warder’s Room, which contains a fireplace, and a large stone aumbry or recess, with a broken shelf, and also a garderobe, is principally constructed in the thickness of the wall, but projects to a slight extent on its outer face. It is situated almost exactly midway between the Water Tower and Mortimer’s.
The great lake, mention of which has already been made, was upwards of a hundred acres in extent, about a hundred yards in width, ten or twelve feet in depth, and extended round the castle on its southern and western sides for a distance of nearly half a mile. The second or smaller lake, which existed in medieval times on the southern and eastern sides of the castle, was drained by Leicester and converted by him into an orchard.
Entering the castle buildings themselves from the outer ward into the inner court, the huge impressive pile of Cæsar’s Tower rises above one on the right, with the ruins of Leicester’s buildings opposite, on the left. Once the inner court is entered, one has on the left the Privy Chamber, Presence Chamber, and the ruins of the suite of rooms used by Queen Elizabeth.
Immediately opposite the entrance to the inner court are the ruined walls of the great hall, under which is the postern leading out on to the ramparts by which, in Walter Scott’s Kenilworth, Wayland Smith was ejected by Michael Lambourne. The outer path to this postern cuts through the great bank on which the hall is placed, and which was the inner boundary of the moat of the older castle, the moat of which was what is now a hollow space between it and the garden wall. It seems probable that this great mound of earth was the buhr of the original Saxon owner. Other authorities, however, suppose that the mound was the site occupied by the keep.
The postern is a square–headed doorway, and formerly had a portcullis, but this must have been rather more for show than as able to afford any special security, as the huge windows of the hall above would have made the defence of this particular side of the castle a matter of considerable difficulty.
Cæsar’s Tower, and the block of buildings contiguous to it, are well seen from the point where the postern gate and passage running under the Banqueting Hall open upon the inner court.
From the summit of the Strong Tower one has a fine view of the surrounding country, and also of the gardens, pleasance, and the remains of the Swan Tower, now almost hidden in ivy and trees, the bottom stage of which used probably to be anciently used for the purposes of housing or feeding the swans in the moat.
Immediately next to the Strong Tower is the Great Hall, a magnificent though sadly ruined example of domestic architecture of the period, measuring 90 feet by 45 feet. It was originally approached by a broad straight staircase on its north–eastern side, which led to the portal or porch resting upon a vault. In this porch, which is vaulted and groined and beautifully panelled, with the hollows of the mouldings of the doorway filled with exquisite foliated work, there is a small recess for the warder or usher. The floor of the hall rested upon the vaulted roof of a magnificent cellar; the vaulting springing from ten piers arranged in double rows at equal distances from the walls, and having corresponding half–pillars against the walls themselves and in the angles. The lighting of the hall above was from large windows set in deep splayed recesses, with wide stone window seats, three on the eastern and four on the western side, each of two lights, divided by two transoms and richly carved. There are the remains of two large fireplaces, one on either side of the hall, situated at about one–third of its length, measuring from the south end; and on the side next to the inner court is a magnificent oriel, constructed of five sides of an octagon, and formerly communicating with the dais by an arch, and containing three large windows of two lights, and a small one.
The roof of this fine hall was of open timbered work, supported by five hammer beams on each side, the holes for which are still visible between the windows, the whole building forming a beautiful and very pure specimen of Early Perpendicular work.
Such is a brief description of all that remains of this once splendid medieval fortress, which was at the same time a dwelling notable for its luxurious fittings and the splendid entertainments that so frequently took place within its walls. Situated almost ideally, it possesses a wide prospect of fertile lands and wooded vales, over which in ancient times the Lord of Kenilworth held sway. It is, indeed, lamentable that this fine castle should have aroused the destructive propensities of the Cromwellians, and should not have been preserved, as have happily so many other medieval buildings in the fair county of Warwick, much as it was when knights and ladies trod its halls in stately measure or revelry, and strolled on its terraces and through its pleasances.
CHAPTER VII
LEAMINGTON
Leamington is charmingly situated in the heart of the county, towards the eastern boundary of the wide amphitheatre of gradually rising hills of which its sister town of Warwick, distant but two miles from it, is the centre. The oldest portion of the town is built on the low–lying ground to the south side of the River Leam, and was in former years known as the old town. Modern Leamington, on the other hand, which is so picturesque, and consists of fine villas, well–planned streets and avenues, lies on the northern side of the river, and has its origin from the time onwards when the baths were first discovered and turned to good account by local enterprise.
One of the most conspicuous charms of Leamington is its profusion of foliage; and close to some of its main streets, and, indeed, bordering them, are beautiful trees, all of which, from their variety, are seldom leafless at one and the same time. The modern town at the time of its inception was far more wisely laid out than was usual in former days, for it is a place of straight and wide avenues and streets, planned with almost American precision.
COMPTON WYNYATES.
To those who have never visited Leamington such a description may not evoke any visions of beauty, but the regularity which marks the laying out of the town has been wisely tempered by the preservation and planting, wherever possible, of rows of elms, lindens, and plane trees, which not only break up the monotony of streets, but impart to the town an almost garden–like aspect. Notwithstanding, however, the fact that in the byroads, streets, and avenues of the residential quarters, more especially of Milverton and Lillington, grass plats separate the footpaths from the road, adding materially to the beauty and distinction of the place, the business quarter is no less business–like than that of other towns. Nathaniel Hawthorne, the American novelist, has written enthusiastically of Leamington; and those who have resided in this beautiful spot all the year round can testify that his statement, that it is a place of charm which is “always in flower,” is not far from the truth.
The rise of Leamington has been of considerable rapidity, as until the end of the eighteenth century it was merely an obscure village, and in the year 1801 the population was only just over three hundred souls, and the number of houses but sixty–seven.
Its full tide in former years was Leamington Priors, derived from the fact that the town is built on the banks of the River Leam, and once belonged to the priors of Kenilworth. In modern days it has become known as Leamington Spa, the late Queen Victoria, in memory of a visit she paid to the place in 1838, giving it the title of the Royal Leamington Spa.
The town is very unlike in appearance its ancient and more celebrated neighbour Warwick. In fact, whilst the latter has its chief attraction in antiquity, Leamington has its chief interest as a modern and fashionable health resort. It is wrong, however, to suppose that Leamington has no history, and is as entirely modern as its appearance would lead one at first sight to presume.
The name of the river upon which it stands is of ancient Celtic origin, and means the elm–tree or elm–bordered stream, and doubtless in ancient times it was well–wooded for the greater part of its course on both banks. There are many Celtic river names to be met with in Warwickshire, and generally these survivals have indicated an ancient settlement, or at least camp of the invaders, although as regards Leamington no traces of one now remain if it ever existed.
The town was in ancient times a portion of the very wide possessions of Turchill, the last and most powerful of all the Saxon earls of Warwick. In the Domesday Book the estate is put down as containing two hides, or about two hundred acres of land, the value of which was £4. There is also a mention of two mills situated on the stream within its boundaries. Turchill’s son was robbed of this part of his patrimony, and it was granted by William the Conqueror to a Norman baron, Roger de Montgomery, who was afterwards created Earl of Shrewsbury.
In those early days the town, or rather perhaps should we say the hamlet, known as Leamington underwent great vicissitudes of ownership, for although Roger de Montgomery’s son Hugh inherited the estates, his brother Robert, to whom they descended during the reign of William Rufus, called De Beleseme from the name of a castle which belonged to him, was declared a traitor, and all his possessions, including Leamington, were seized, and the latter was given to the Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry. After a few years the possession of it passed to Geoffrey de Clinton, and was by him granted to Gilbert Nutricius of Warwick and his heirs, who held it by the service of half a knight’s fee. For some reason, however, it speedily reverted to the De Clintons, and Geoffrey de Clinton, son of the original owner, gave it to the canon and priors of Kenilworth about the year 1166, in whose possession it remained until the Dissolution of the Monasteries. It remained the property of the Crown till 1563, when Elizabeth granted it to Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick. He dying without an heir male, his title became extinct, and from this period Leamington had many owners, ultimately coming into the possession of the Earls of Aylesford.
Although Leamington in ancient times had its vicissitudes, there is little of interest historically concerning it until about the year 1784, when Abbotts made the discovery of a second mineral spring, which caused attention to be focussed on the medicinal properties of the Leamington waters. It is doubtless to the discovery of these springs, and others, may be traced the fact that the town in the first years of the nineteenth century began to be a place of importance and fashion. Long before then Camden, Speed, and Dugdale had mentioned prominently the Leamington Waters; and Fuller in 1662, referring to the same subject, quaintly observes, “At Leamington, two miles from Warwick, there issue out, within a stride, [out] of the womb of the earth, two twin springs, as different in taste and operation as Jacob and Esau in disposition; the one salt and the other fresh. This the meanest countryman does plainly see by their effects; while it would puzzle a consultation of physicians to assign the cause thereof.”
Notwithstanding Fuller’s opinion, medical writers soon began to publish speculations concerning mineral waters, and upon these very springs in particular. The earliest pamphleteer upon record was Dr. Guidot in 1689, and he was succeeded by many others, including Doctors Allen, Short, Johnson, Kerr, Kirwan, Middleton, and Loudon. It was Dr. Allen who first settled in the place, and Mr. William Abbotts, who, in 1786, sunk the second well and erected and opened the first baths in June of the same year. This well was almost in the centre of the old village. The third spring or the Road Well, is situated on the high road from Warwick to Daventry and London, and was discovered in 1790.
Leamington was much patronised by those who either were afflicted by real or fancied ailments, which the waters might be hoped to cure, and the efforts of Dr. Abbotts did much to popularise the place. In his endeavour to spread abroad the fame of the place, he was ably seconded by his friend Benjamin Satchwell, the village poet and shoemaker, who had had the good fortune, in 1784, to discover the well on a piece of land in Bath Street.
Referring to the increased importance, size, and prosperity of the town, Satchwell wrote:—
If Muster Abbotts had not done,
His baths of laud and praise;
It must have been poor Leamington,
Now, as in former days.
These two men, no doubt, had much to do with the initial stages of the town’s prosperity, and on the tomb of Satchwell may be traced, but with difficulty, as the inscription is greatly obliterated:—
Hail the unassuming tomb,
Of him who told where health and beauty bloomed;
Of him whose lengthened life improving ran—
A blameless, useful, venerable man.
The advocacy of these and other Leamingtonians caused the town to advance rapidly into public favour, and the discovery of other wells up till the year 1819 served to provide ample accommodation for bathers and others, making the place one of the most famous health–resorts in England.
In these days, indeed, Leamington might well have been called “The Bath of the Midlands,” for to the town were attracted much the same classes of invalids and fashionable folk as were drawn to its more famous Somersetshire prototype; and, indeed, Leamington must have been then even a gayer and more fashionable town than it is at the present time.
From the Leamington of the last few years of the eighteenth century to the flourishing town of to–day is, indeed, a far cry. Then, according to one authority, it was little more than a small sequestered village, to which the mail–coaches came no nearer than Warwick, and any letters or parcels for the inhabitants could only be obtained by some enterprising villager going over to the latter place for them.
And even in the first decade of the nineteenth century Macready, the great actor, writes thus of the place in his diary. Referring to Birmingham he says: “The summer months were passed there, diversified by a short stay at Leamington, then a small village consisting only of a few thatched houses—not one of them tiled or slated; the Bowling Green being the only one where very moderate accommodation could be secured. There was in process of erection a hotel of more pretention, which I fancy was to be the ‘Dog’ or ‘Greyhound,’ but which had some months of work to fit it for the reception of guests.”
It was in the year 1819 that the Prince Regent, afterwards George IV., visited Leamington from Warwick, where he was staying with the Earl of Warwick; and three years later the Princess Augusta came to the town to take a course of the waters, and from that time the place may be considered to have been firmly established in public favour. Quoting from a contemporary writer, “where but a few years earlier cattle grazed undisturbedly, yellow corn waved, and the plough–boy whistled over the Leam, we now behold with surprise and pleasure extensive mansions arising as if by magic, and tastefully decorated shops presenting every Metropolitan article of fashion and convenience.”
Some other famous visitors who came to Leamington in the early years of the last century were the Princess Victoria, in company with her mother the Duchess of Kent; and later John Ruskin, who testified to the benefit derived from a six weeks’ course of the Chalybeate Spring as follows: “My health is in my own hands, I have gone back to brown potatoes and cherry pie!”
But Leamington of to–day owes a good deal less of its popularity to its springs than it does to its beautiful situation, and the fact of it being such an excellent centre for interesting excursions; whilst hunting people regard the place as an almost unequalled sporting district, from the circumstance that a fashionable life can be enjoyed there in conjunction with hunting six days a week, and the choice of as many packs. Warwickshire, indeed, has been called the third best hunting county in England, and Leamington must take even a higher place as a centre for hunting folk.
One of the prettiest features of this town, distinguished nowadays for its handsome shops and villas, are the Jephson Gardens, covering an area of some twenty acres, and situated almost in the centre of the town, the picturesqueness of which is greatly added to by the presence of the River Leam skirting them along the southern boundary. This site was rented to trustees for a period of two thousand years at a pepper–corn rent (if demanded) by the late Mr. Edward Willes, of Newbold Comyn, with the stipulation that the ground should never be built upon. The property, which was then a strip of meadow land, was taken over by the trustees in May 1846, and was immediately laid out by them in much its present form.
On the opposite side of the river are the Mill Gardens; and on the same side of the river and along its western circuit has been laid out a pretty Victoria Park, with its picturesque New River Walk.
Still farther sylvan promenades are afforded by the Pump Room Gardens. The grounds are several acres in extent, and are beautifully laid out with ornamental flower–beds and winding paths; whilst on the side next to the parade is the famous Linden Avenue, three–quarters of a century old, and forming one of the finest shady promenades in Leamington, or indeed in any town of the Midlands.
Of ancient public buildings Leamington has practically none, if one excepts the reconstructed and much altered Pump Room, once the scene of so much of the fashionable life of the town.
BURTON DASSETT CHURCH.
None of the other public buildings, with the exception of the Town Hall, call for particular notice.
There are not a few literary associations with Leamington, and the Holly Walk, which is a continuation of Regent Grove, a fine tree–lined avenue, will always possess an interest for lovers of Dickens from the fact that here the novelist laid the scene of the first meeting between Edith Granger and Mr. Carker in Dombey and Son. Scarcely a more picturesque spot than this walk, with its row of fine trees running down the centre, its grass plats, shady seats, and flower beds, could be found for a meeting of the kind.
The old Bedford Hotel, which was the scene of one of the famous Jack Mytton’s most remarkable exploits, when for a wager he rode his mare upstairs into the dining–room, set her at the large table, which she cleared, jumping over the heads of his assembled friends, and then continued her course out of the balcony into the street below, has long disappeared; doubtless to the regret of all hunting folk and of the curious sightseer.
Like Hawthorne, those who have visited Leamington carry away with them pleasant memories of a town which, although owing much to natural beauty of situation, yet owes also not a little to the intelligence and foresight of those responsible for its development, who may be said to have coaxed rather than coerced Nature in their efforts to make the spot one of uncommon rural and urban attractiveness, whilst still mindful of the demands of exigent moderns.
CHAPTER VIII
THE STORY OF BIRMINGHAM
The city of Birmingham has been sung by a local poet as follows:—
Illustrious off–spring of Vulcanic toil!
Pride of the country! Glory of the Isle!
Europe’s grand toy shop! arts’ exhaustive mine
These, and more titles, Birmingham, are thine.
From jealous fears, from chartered fetters free,
Desponding genius finds a friend in thee;
Thy soul as liberal as the breath of Spring,
Cheers his faint heart and plumes his flagging wing.
But, nevertheless, it presents more of a prosaic and commercial than a romantic attraction for a writer.
The derivation of the name has not yet been satisfactorily arrived at, and by even its most accurate and painstaking historian is considered “too remote for explanation.” Aided by the erratic spelling of former times, during the last four centuries alone there have been eight modes of spelling it,—Burmyngham, Bermyngham, Byrmyngham, Bermyngeham, Brumychcham, Bromycham, Bromicham, and lastly the more modern and generally accepted Birmingham. The curious, however, may be set yet a greater puzzle of selective ingenuity, as from different authors, documents, records, and papers it is possible to find upwards of a hundred additional methods of spelling the name of the town which is popularly known as “the capital of the Midlands.”
Of the eight ways we have enumerated in detail two alone have been in a measure satisfactorily accounted for; one deriving its origin from a family, and the other from the situation of the town. Early inhabitants and even mere settlers of a place in almost every country of the world were in the habit of describing in their place–names, the mountain, lake and valley, the moorland and the heath, and also the character, situation, and size of these; and villages, towns, and cities which grew up afterwards in these situations were frequently given names which in a measure described or perpetuated some place or object in their immediate vicinity, or the actual spot where they were founded.
Dugdale, the historian, is inclined to believe that Birmingham, or Bromwycham, was a name given by a Saxon owner or settler. In this regard he says, “The appellation need not be doubted; the last part of it, viz. ‘ham,’ denoting a home or dwelling, and the former manifesting itself to be a proper name.”
Hutton, on the other hand, is inclined to make it of an even more ancient date, and argues that “Brom,” derived possibly from the broom, a shrub growing freely in the soil of the district, and “wych,” signifying a dwelling, constituted its original name Bromwych. He finds, moreover, some confirmation of his opinion from the names of two other towns in the immediate neighbourhood, West Bromwych and Castle Bromwych; the terminal “ham,” he argues, being subsequently added, and up till the time of the Saxon Heptarchy the spot retained its full name, “Bromwycham.” This argument, however, in reality seems to support Dugdale’s idea concerning the derivation of the name, as all three portions of it are of Saxon origin. The alteration locally to Bromicham was only a contraction, which continued in use down till the eighteenth century, and indeed is to be traced in the pronunciation of the word as “Brumijum” by some locals even at the present day. It would appear, however, that it is more than possible, whatever its ancient name may have been, and whatever its derivation, that the present–day name “Birmingham” was given to the place from the owner of the estate rather than the owner taking his name from it.
This latter view has been borne out by modern research, and it has been now generally admitted that a family or tribe called “Beorm” or “Berm” gave the place its early Saxon name. More than six centuries ago, indeed, and for a period lasting four centuries, we find the name of De Bermingham as lords of the fee. The first was a Peter de Bermingham, who in the reign of Henry II. in 1154 had a castle here, and lived in considerable splendour. Here all succeeding members of the family dwelt until the Duke of Northumberland ousted them in 1537, and with their ejectment the castle soon fell into ruins and disappeared, although as late as 1816 a moat and some traces of the walls remained.
In the days of Edward the Confessor the town probably formed part of the possessions of Ulwin, generally identified with the Alwyne whose son Turchill founded the Warwickshire family of Arden, of whom the mother of Shakespeare was a descendant. There is no doubt that the place was of considerable importance in Saxon times, as proof exists of the holding of a market there prior to the Conquest.
Although there is no mention in the Domesday Book of any church at that date, during the rebuilding of St. Martin’s in 1562, some early stone–work, evidently belonging to a former building and pointing to the existence of a church dating from before the Conquest, was discovered. Fairs were certainly held very early in Birmingham’s existence as a town, and in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, is a curious MS. map dating from the last years of the thirteenth century, with a church clearly indicated, in addition to a considerable number of houses. On this map, where the name is given as “Brymingha,” many neighbouring towns of traditionally greater importance at that period are not even marked, and neither Coventry nor Warwick are named.
It would thus appear that in medieval times, although Birmingham must have been a small town it was also a flourishing one, with a market for country produce, cattle, hides, etc., which was visited not only by local traders but by those of adjoining and even distant counties.
In 1382 the Guild of the Holy Cross was founded to maintain two priests at St. Martin’s Church, and was ten years later made a Fraternity of men and women under the name of “the Bailiffe and Communalite of Birmingham and other adjacent places for a Chantrie of Priestes, and services in the Church for the souls of the Founders and all the Fraternitie.” It also had other and more secular objects. In the year 1545 the lands belonging to it were seized by the Crown, and five years afterwards were given by Edward VI. for the “Free Grammar School of King Edward the Sixth, for the Education and Instruction of Children in Grammar for ever.” The property so arbitrarily acquired was thus in the end devoted to a useful purpose. At that time it was valued at £31 : 2 : 10, and this formed the endowment fund of the famous school, the income of which at the close of 1880 amounted to the large sum of nearly £22,000, and is now computed to be almost £50,000.
The manor–house and seat of the De Berminghams, not a trace of which now remains, was situated within a few yards of St. Martin’s Church, and a little to the west of Digbeth, the site now being occupied by the prosaic cattle–market of large extent.
Leland speaks of the town at the time of his visit, which took place in 1538, thus: “The beauty of Birmingham, a good markett towne in the extreame parts of Warwickshire, is one streete going up alonge almost from the left rype (bank) of the brook, up a meane hill, by the length of a quarter of a mile. I saw but one Paroche Church in the towne.”
Camden, who visited Birmingham some half century later, writes of it as “full of inhabitants, and resounding with hammers and anvils, for the most of them are smiths.” “The lower part” (of the town), he adds, “standeth very waterish; the upper riseth with faire buildings.”
Some authorities seem to infer that Birmingham was not noted for its metal works until a comparatively recent period, but Leland states: “There be many smithes in the town that used to make knives and all mannour of cutting tooles, and many loriners that make bittes and a great many naylors. Soe that a great part of the town is maintained by smithes whoe have their iron and seacole out of Staffordshire.”
Hutton, Birmingham’s most famous and completest historian of the past, claims for this city, whose rise has been so phenomenal during the last half century, that history proves its progress has been continuous, and that the town has never suffered a decline. But, of course, during the centuries before Charles II. it was slow, and only notable in comparison with that of other places.
Although the town in Leland’s day is spoken of as having its chief beauty in “one streete going up alonge from the left of the brook, up a meane hill, by the length of a quarter of a mile,” and could have then been but a comparatively small village, Hutton argues that even in the days of the ancient Britons the smiths of Birmingham supplied implements of war and husbandry. It may even be possible, according to this historian, that the scythes fixed to Boadicea’s chariot wheels had their genesis at a Birmingham forge. In support of this theory he quotes that “upon the borders of Aston parish stands Aston furnace, appropriated for melting iron–stone, and reducing it into ‘pigs’; this has the appearance of great antiquity. From the melting ore in this subterraneous region of infernal aspect is produced a calx, or cinder, of which there is an enormous mountain. From an attentive survey the observer would suppose so prodigious a heap could not accumulate in a hundred generations; however, it shows no perceptible addition in the age of man.”
LITTLE WOLFORD MANOR–HOUSE.
Before Birmingham became famous for its manufactures it was known for the great number of tanners resident there; and the hides which furnished a supply for the rest of the county were laid out in the High Street in piles on fine days; and in wet weather were deposited in the Leather Hall. This Leather Market was identified with Birmingham in the tenth or eleventh century, and continued until the beginning of the eighteenth century; and it was in this ‘High’ or main street that early settlers manufactured coarse ironware, nails, and similar articles. Hutton is inclined to believe that in quite ancient times carpenters’ tools as well as spades, forks, and other implements of husbandry were made here; and that the worn hollow ways in the roads that proceeded from Birmingham form additional evidence of the town’s antiquity and commercial importance. He goes on to observe concerning these rutted roads, “Though modern industry, assisted by various Turn–pike Acts, has widened the upper part and filled up the lower, yet they were all visible in the days of our fathers, and are traceable even in ours.”
This painstaking historian places the ancient centre of the town at Old Cross from the number of streets which lead towards it, and the fact of the position of St. Martin’s Church. It is difficult, indeed, when contemplating modern Birmingham with its fine streets, magnificent public buildings, and general appearance of wealth, industry, and prosperity, to realise that the ancient houses were of a type similar to those at Shrewsbury and Chester. Built principally of timber, with the space between the beams wattled and plastered over with mortar; others of slightly more recent date being of bricks and plaster.
The first streets that were paved are said to have been High Street, the Bull Ring, Corn Cheaping, Digbeth, St. Martin’s Lane, Egbaston Street, Moat Lane, Spiceal Street, and part of Moor Street, and the streets where the fairs were held. These formed the boundaries of the town in the thirteenth century; and from this period onwards there was a distinct and gradual increase of area and also of improvements of an uninterrupted character.
The most stirring event in the history of Birmingham itself was the attack made upon it by Prince Rupert on April 5, 1643, during the Civil War. It created an immense amount of additional antagonism towards the Cavaliers on the part of the inhabitants, whose sympathies from the outset of the quarrel between King and Parliament had been with the latter.
The town was at that period but a small one of about 6000 inhabitants. But it had caused the King’s party much trouble by having on several occasions intercepted messengers between the scattered Royalist forces. These messengers were sent to Coventry and imprisoned. Prince Rupert’s attack was chiefly prompted by two reasons: the desire for plunder and the intention to frustrate the completion of the fortifications and earthworks the inhabitants had commenced. He apparently anticipated only slight resistance.
The attack was commenced between two and three in the afternoon; two assaults were repulsed, but eventually the Royalist horse forced an entry. The Cavaliers rode through the town, with the Earl of Denbigh at their head, “like so many furies.” People were shot at their windows, at their doors, and in the streets. Having possessed themselves of the town the Royalists commenced to pillage it. Next day on leaving the town they set fire to it in many places.
The effect of all this harshness naturally was to make the Birmingham folk even more Parliamentarian than before.
The history of Birmingham appears to have been uneventful for more than twenty years after the memorable visit of Prince Rupert and his Cavaliers. And the next happening of any great moment was the outbreak of the plague in 1665, which was said to have been brought to the town in a box of clothes by a carrier, which he deposited at the White Hart Inn. The visitation seems to have been a severe one, for it was found impossible to inter the victims in the usual burying–ground, and a full acre of land was set aside at Lady Wood Green (known for many years after as the “pest” ground) for the reception of those who had died of the plague. The town soon, however, appears to have recovered from this misfortune, and made, during the ensuing years, from the time of the Restoration to the commencement of the eighteenth century, a period of forty years, a progress which can scarcely be considered as otherwise than remarkable, demonstrated by figures given by Hutton, the accuracy of which has never been impuned.
At the Restoration the number of streets appears to have been fifteen, though all were not complete; whilst there were some 907 houses and 5472 inhabitants. In the year 1700 the streets had increased in number to 28, the houses to 2504, and the inhabitants to 15,032. Thirty–one years later the streets had doubled, the houses had nearly doubled, and the inhabitants had increased almost in the same proportion; whilst at the commencement of the last decade of the eighteenth century the streets had quadrupled from the last figures, the houses had done the same, and the inhabitants had increased in like ratio.
But only ten years later Birmingham saw one of the few periods of temporary decline, when, owing to the stagnation in trade, consequent upon the French war, the population decreased nearly 4000; and the entry of many younger men of Birmingham into the army, and the exodus of masters and journeymen, left upwards of 1500 houses uninhabited. Notwithstanding the set–back caused by the war, only seven years later there was a distinct revival and reaction, and nearly 2000 additional houses were erected, with an increase of population more than sufficient to occupy them, as well as all the other houses which had fallen vacant.
In the latter half of the seventeenth century Birmingham made remarkable strides, and during this period sprang up an increasing demand for many of the articles manufactured there, and the firearm trade soon became a very important and lucrative one. Hampered by no charters or ancient Corporative customs, the town attracted to itself reformers of all kinds, and also skilled workmen, drawn hither by the freedom of manufacture which existed. The iniquitous “Five Mile” and similar Acts had served to drive many wealthy and able men out of corporate towns. In Birmingham these found a “city of refuge,” with fewer restrictions; and with their coming the industrial energy and initiative of the town was greatly and speedily increased. During the eighteenth century these forces were continuously at work, and in the latter half the fullest development was attained and manufactures of all kinds, including iron, hardware, brass, steel, and other articles became wonderfully advanced.
Not a little of this prosperity was undoubtedly directly traceable to the practice which obtained of letting large portions of land at low ground rents and on long leases; thereby giving notable encouragement to the erection of buildings, both residential and commercial, in the centre of the town and in the contiguous suburbs.
Quite early in the century cotton spinning by machinery had been introduced and tried by Lewis Paul and John Wyatt, and somewhere about 1780 a cotton mill was built, but only to prove an unsuccessful experiment, afterwards to be converted into one for metal rolling.
One of the truly great events in the history of Birmingham of this period—nay, of any period—was the foundation by Matthew Boulton of the famous Soho works in 1763. He possessed unbounded enterprise, enthusiasm, and taste, and his original business in Birmingham itself as a “toy–maker,” manufacturing sword–hilts, buckles, brooches, and other ornaments, increased rapidly, and he was compelled to transfer it to larger and better premises. It was to Boulton that James Watt ultimately came in despair at not being able to get his newly invented steam–engine well and carefully made. As events proved, he had come to the right man, and an engine factory, from which the whole world was eventually supplied, was speedily erected. The partnership lasted many years; Boulton, who was a skilled mechanic, was also, above all, a good business man—which Watt was not—and but for him it is more than probable that the inventor would have failed to attain either practical or financial success and recognition.
Of this great workshop of Soho, one of the greatest early factors in Birmingham’s ultimate triumph as a manufacturing and industrial centre, Boulton is reputed to have said, “I supply here what all the world desires to have—Power.” And the founder of Soho, through stormy and even occasionally dangerous times, doggedly persevered, and by great powers of initiative and control secured for himself and for Watt large fortunes, and did much to assist in the general and speedy progress of the town by the invention of machinery and the practical application of the “new power.”
But Boulton, who has left so deep a mark upon Birmingham history of his time, was by no means a mere ingenious manufacturer and good business man. He was a magnetic and personal force, which gathered around him and attracted to Soho from all parts of the world men of genius, scientists, and others. The “Soho circle” or “Lunar Club,” called the latter from the fact that it met only when there was a full moon, on account of the ill–lit and dangerous condition of the streets, was one of the most famous institutions of its kind of the age, and, indeed, probably of any succeeding age.
To his house at one time or another came many men destined to prove famous or who were already so. Dr. Darwin; William Murdock, the inventor of—amongst other things—gas–lighting for houses; Priestly, with his keen brain and recent discoveries; John Baskerville, with his type, paper, and printing, which “astonished the Librarians of Europe”; Dr. Withering, the noted botanist; Joseph Berington, the Roman Catholic historian; and many others who brightened and made notable what may fairly be called “the golden age” of Birmingham’s eighteenth–century progress, and who were the initiators of the advances made in after years.
The great Soho works, in the history of which is, in fact, enshrined much of that relating to the early days of engineering, have passed away; the engine factory having been removed to Smethwick in 1848, after the death of James Watt, the son of the inventor. The site on which Boulton’s house stood is now occupied by streets and terraces of unromantic houses. But the memory of Soho lingers in the name of an open space, and in that of streets and roads.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century the desire to modernise Birmingham and to erect buildings with some pretension to architectural beauty seemed to have concerned the inhabitants, and we read, the town “is daily improving in the style of her buildings; there are now architects of the first eminence in the town, and others rapidly rising into notice.”
The progress of Birmingham during the latter half of the nineteenth century has been wonderfully steady and marked.
Of the ancient town there are nowadays scarcely any survivals; certainly few buildings of any public character, although “the mansion house of tymber” which Leland saw and specially mentioned, still remains in the guise of the “Old Crown Inn,” with several other quaint, timbered houses in the district of Deritend.
In the old Bull Ring, an historic spot used in former times for the sport of bull baiting, stands St. Martin’s Church, the most notable and authentic building in Birmingham, for the modern building erected in 1872–75, at the cost of a sum of nearly £30,000, stands on the site of a Norman church of undoubted antiquity. In this ancient fabric, during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, many additions and alterations were effected, and the walls of the old church were formerly plentifully adorned with frescoes, representing amongst other scenes St. Martin on horseback giving part of his cloak to a beggar.
Nowadays the only portion of the old church still standing is in the tower, but there are some fine altar tombs with recumbent figures of the old lords of Birmingham in the chancel. One is believed to be that of the third William de Bermingham, who was at the siege of Belgrade in France in 1297, and was taken prisoner there. There are also many other interesting and important memorials, and some extremely fine modern stained glass by the late William Morris.
LONG COMPTON.
St. Philip’s Church, which occupies a fine site fronting on Colmore Row, has an importance other than its architecture from the fact that it is now the pro–Cathedral. Finely situated, this handsome building has an added grace and importance from its elevated and isolated position. The church stands upon ground which was originally part of a farm called Horse Close, afterwards Barley Close, and the land was given by one Robert Phillips and the church named after the saint and also the founder. It was commenced in 1711 from designs by Thomas Archer, a pupil of John Vanbrugh, who was also the architect for the church of St. John, at Westminster. The building was consecrated in 1715, although not finished till four years later. It is said to have cost only £5000.
The church of St. John at Deritend possesses a somewhat remarkable history. It is a chapel in the parish of Aston, and was the one referred to by Leland as “a propper chappel” in 1538. At that date it was a picturesque and interesting Early English building, which unhappily was demolished about a century ago, and re–erected in the form of an uninspiring structure of Georgian plainness in brick. It contains the bust of John Rogers, a native of the district, who was the first martyr in the days of the Marian persecution. The original church was founded in 1375 by thirteen persons, who had found themselves on many occasions unable to reach the mother church at Aston owing to floods. These provided between them a handsome endowment in lands, worth at that time ten marks (about £6 : 13 : 4, and nowadays some £450), the original Charter and Licence in Mortmain are in the Reference section of the Public Library, and bear dates 1381 and 1383.
The chaplain was formerly strangely elected by household suffrage, both men and women voting. The last election was in 1889, when a fierce contest was waged and continued for over a month in thoroughgoing electioneering style, ultimately thinning out the candidates to two in number, who went to the final poll, which lasted a day.
Roman Catholicism has a strong following in the city, and the Roman Catholic Cathedral, dedicated to St. Chad, a seventh–century Bishop of Lichfield, is a large and handsome though modern building. Erected from designs by A. W. Pugin in 1839–41 in the Decorated style, it forms one of the principal churches of Birmingham. In it are some fine modern stained glass; a sixteenth–century carved oak pulpit brought from Louvain; and the remains of its dedicatory saint, which are traditionally stated to have been removed from Lichfield Cathedral at the time of the Reformation, and more or less miraculously preserved, and ultimately brought here.
The new era of the town’s history, progress, and wealth began in 1875, when the late Joseph Chamberlain was elected Mayor.
It is impossible in so brief a sketch as is possible within the scope of the present volume to deal in detail with the many reforms, the growth and commercial expansion which the last forty years have brought about. Birmingham of to–day, with its magnificent Town Hall, Council House, Museum, and Art Gallery, containing some notable modern as well as older pictures, and a fine collection of the work of the pre–Raphaelite School; Free Library; Mason University College; Great Western Arcade; Midland Institute; Edward VI.’s Grammar School, the ancient foundation nowadays housed in a modern building by Sir Charles Barry, R.A., in the Tudor style; Bluecoat School, founded in 1727 for the education of orphans of both sexes; and many other important commercial, educational, and social institutions, and its fine parks, may be said to represent a modern city of unique convenience and considerable structural beauty.
Birmingham, too, has not been without generous benefactors, to whom it owes a debt not easily repaid. To all who know anything of the city’s history the names of the Rylands, Jaffray, Tangye, Feeny, and Colmore families will at once occur.
About modern Birmingham there is indeed a spaciousness and air of modernity which strikes the visitor almost from the first moment of his introduction to the town; and although essentially a trade centre, there certainly hangs about this city, which has owed in later years so much to the energy, wisdom, and enterprise of such men as John Thackray Bunce, Joseph Chamberlain, Josiah Mason, George Dawson, George Tangye, Samuel Timmins, and Philip Henry Muntz, a certain element of even romantic interest, which, however, is that attaching to modern industry rather than to survivals of ancient greatness.
Naturally so great an industrial centre as Birmingham played a great and even distinguished part in the Great War. Very early in the struggle the city became one of the most important munitions centres in the Kingdom. Situated in the heart of England, and far distant from the sea coast, it seemed peculiarly suited for the site of a great national arsenal, quite irrespective of the fact that for many years the manufacture of guns and other weapons of war had formed a part of its most prosperous industrial life.
Although Zeppelins in several of their wanderings over the face of England, intent upon inflicting injury upon this home of war–time industry, are reported to have hovered over Birmingham, no considerable material damage resulted.
Within a very short time of Mr. Lloyd George assuming the reins of Government and the responsibility for the supply of the vast quantities of munitions which were found necessary for an energetic and successful prosecution of the war to final victory, Birmingham became one immense area of feverish war activity. Factories which in times of peace were employed in the production of agricultural implements for use throughout the world; the making of “Birmingham” jewellery; the provision of “trade” articles for barter with the uncivilised tribes of Central Africa, New Guinea, the South Seas, and elsewhere were speedily adapted for the more sinister purposes of the great conflict in which almost the whole of the civilised world found itself gradually becoming more or less directly involved.
Birmingham was engaged in beating its ploughshares into machine–guns, and its reaping hooks into bayonets, an inversion of the Biblical dream picture of the arts of peace.
Munitions were turned out in such vast quantities that the human mind cannot grasp their sum. Small arms ammunition by the thousand million rounds, shells in their millions, machine–guns in their thousands, and materials raw and otherwise of all kinds for munitions of war and clothing poured constantly from the factories of the city.
A darkened city it was!
But behind shuttered and curtained windows there was all the time unceasing work, the colossal output was maintained, and the titanic struggle of human brains, sinews, muscles, and sheer endurance went on.
In a word, Birmingham took its place among the foremost cities of sacrifice in the Empire she played so great a part to save.
The appeal to her manhood, her womanhood, her patriotism was never made in vain, whether it was for munitions made by tens of thousands of tons, or for money with which to assist national finance by way of munificent subscriptions to Loans, and the purchase of many hundreds of thousands of War Savings Certificates.
And the records of Birmingham men, in the Warwickshire and other regiments which covered themselves with “an eternal weight of glory” in the field, will form a noble page in national history as long as time endures.