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THE NATION IN THE PARISH,
OK,
KECOBDS OF UPTON-ON-SEVEBN:
WITH A SUPPLEMENTAL CHAPTER ON
THE CASTLE OF HANLEY ;
BY
EMILY M. LAWSON;
FOURTEEN FULL- PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES CATTERMOLE AND
GEORGE R. CLARKE ; AND A GLOSSARY OF MORE THAN EIGHT HUNDRED
LOCAL WORDS AND PHRASES BY
EOBEBT LAWSON, M.A.,
Sometime Student of Christchurch, Oxford; Rector of Upton-on- Severn;
and Honorary Canon of Worcester Cathedral.
Kondon :
HOUGHTON & GUNN, 162, New Bond Street, W.
Upton -on- Severn: W. E. COOPER, High Street.
1884.
DA
TO
THE DEAR PEOPLE OF UPTON,
AMONG WHOM I HAVE LIVED
FOR TWENTY YEARS,
THIS HISTORY OF OUR PARISH
IS DEDICATED.
32
PREFACE.
This volume was intended to be little more than a
second edition of " Eecords and Traditions of Upton-
on-Severn," which was published in December, 1868,
and has long been out of print ; but I have obtained
so much fresh information, connecting the history of
our Parish with that of the Nation, that the new
edition has become a new book. If the present title
should appear too ambitious, I would Dlead that my
purpose is not to claim undue importance or special
interest for Upton in a historical point of view, but
rather to indicate the connection between national
and parochial history which may be found among the
local records and family documents of many ancient
parishes.
A partial failure of eyesight has obliged me to
depend almost entirely on the eyes and pens of others
Ylll PREFACE.
for all the reading and writing necessary for this
work ; and I must ask the indulgence of critics in case
they should note, with regard to dates and facts, any
inaccuracies which closer study might have obviated.
is far as possible, every statement has been verified
by information drawn from that fountain head of
English History, the Public Record Office ; and,
owing to the great kindness of Mr. Salisbury, I have
been enabled to obtain many new and interesting
facts about Upton History between the Norman
Conquest and the Civil War. I am also much indebted
to the following books of reference : " Diocesan His-
tory of Worcester " (S.P.C.K.) ; Mr. Noake's various
works on Worcestershire; Allies' "Folk Lore;'
Blnnt's " History of Tewkesbury Abbey ; " the
" Prattinton Manuscripts ; " Green's " History of the
English People ; " the Chronicles of Holinshed and
Hall, &c, &c. A book of this kind must, if it is to
be of any value, involve a great deal of labour and
trouble, and many disappointments ; but I have
i udeavoured to limit myself strictly to ascertained
facts, and have more than once rejected some charm-
ing incident because it has been found to rest upon
too slight a foundation for history.
PREFACE. IX
It would take a long chapter to express fully my
thanks to all who have helped me in Upton and in
Worcestershire, but I must specially mention, among
those who have given me information of great
interest, Sir E. A. H. Lechmere, Mr. John Hooper,
the Eev. D. Robertson, the Rev. E. R. Dowdeswell,
and Mr. Ernest Kent. I must also gratefully acknow-
ledge the unwearied patience and kindness of one of
my most valued friends both as a reader and as an
amanuensis ; the revision of my manuscripts and the
supply of an Appendix by my Husband ; and the neat
and accurate copying of my faithful and useful
Maid.
Through the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Martin, I
have been able to look over the documents at Ham
Court, and to gather from them much of the private
history of the Bromley Family, and the way in
which their fortunes were affected by those of the
nation.
The chapters on " Dr. Dee," " Miserrimus," " The
Cholera," and " Our Ghost," have been reprinted with
little alteration from the earlier book. In the two
last, as well as in the greater part of the Miscella-
neous Chapter, I have attempted little more than to
X PREFACE.
weave the filmy gossamer of old traditions and the
loose threads of modern reminiscences into a more
enduring texture.
The Chapter on the Castle of Hanley has been
added partly at the desire of friends in that Parish,
and partly from the great historical interest which
attaches to that building.
This volume will have the same advantage as its
predecessor, in being illustrated by Mr. G. E. Clarke's
accurate and graceful sketches of Upton Past and
Present ; I have also again to thank Mr. Cattermole
for aiding in the success of my work by his spirited
and artistic drawings.
'o l
Emily M. Lawson.
ll< itory, Upton-on-Severn ,-
November, 1884.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
THE EARLIEST UPTON. pages
Illustrations of the Chronicles of England in the Eecords of
an Ancient Parish — The Block of Basalt — The British
Village and the Roman Station — Early Christianity —
The Black Danes— The English Conquest ... 1—3
CHAPTER II.
UPTON UNDER THE PLANTAGENETS.
The Family of Sautmareis, Salso Marisco, or Saltmarshe —
Troubles in the Time of John — The Tax-gatherer's
Roll — The De Clares, De Spensers, and Beauchamps —
Upton Names in the 13th Century — Piers Plowman —
The Dwellings and Condition of the People at the Time
of the Wars of the Roses 9—29
CHAPTER III.
UPTON BETWEEN THE CIVIL WARS.
Old Upton Names — Traces of the Reformation — Our Oldest
Register — Edward Hall's Charity — The Recusants in
Upton and Neighbouring Parishes — The Bourne Family
— Sir Henry Bromley — The Earl of Essex and his
Friends — The Gunpowder Plot — A Translator of the
Bible — Characteristics of the Parish Books of Longdon,
Hanley, Severn Stoke, and Upton 30—45
Xll CONTENTS.
CHAPTER IV.
ll'iiiX IN THE CIVIL AVAR TI PAGES
The Lord of the Manor and Madam Bromloy — The Rector
anil his Parishioners — The Disafforesting of the Chase
— Part}' Feeling in Upton — Breaking Out of the War —
The Flight from Powick — Occupation of Upton hy the
Opposing Forces — The Fight in Ripple Field — Ex-
pulsion of the Rector — Changes in the Parish — The
Camp at Pool Brook— The Taking of the Bridge 46—81
CHAPTER V.
UPTON FROM THE RESTORATION TO THE REVOLUTION.
Return of the Rector — His Last Days — Mr, Nathaniel
Tomkyn8 — The Bromley Family — The First Parish
Account Book — Links with National History — Non-
jurors in Upton 82 — 94
CHAPTER VI.
UPTON IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
I.— Treatment of the Poor: Different Value of Money —
Prices of Food, Clothing, &c, &c. — Beggary and Inde-
pendence — The Lahour Test — The First Workhouse.
II. — Medical Customs : Professional and Quack
Doctors — Treatment of Lunatics. III. — Drinking
Customs: Their Antiquity — Expenditure on Treating
in Former Days — Signs of Improvement. IV. — Local
History : An Expected Conference — A Sunday Riot —
The Education of the Poor — John Wesley in Upton —
The Small-Pox — The Great Flood — Destruction of the
CONTENTS, Xlll
PAGES
Old, and Building of a New, Church— Echoes of
History in the Bells -The Rectors of the Century— The
Last of the Bromleys — Angelica Kauffman— Changes
in the Parish 95—127
CHAPTER VII.
UPTON IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
Hard Times— Dress of the Past — The Bristol Riots — Recent
Rectors — Public Buildings ... 128 — 137
CHAPTER VIII.
DR. JOHN DEE.
Our Most Celebrated Rector — His Early History — His
Friendship with Kelly — His Famous Black Stone —
The Wretchedness of his Latter Days , 138 — 155
CHAPTER IX.
" MISERRIMUS."
The Mysterious Epitaph — Romantic Conjectures — Thomas
Morris, or Maurice, in Early Life — The Oath of
Allegiance — Fifty - seven Years of Disappointment — ■
Surviving Memories of his Character and Death 156— 16G
CHAPTER X.
THE CHOLERA.
General Healthiness of Upton — The Cholera of 1832 — Its
Three Weeks' Ravages — Recent Epidemics ... 107 — 180
XIV CONTEXTS.
CHAPTER XI.
OUR GHOST. PASKS
The Historical Value of Ghost Stories — The Story of
Thomas Bound, according to History and Tradition —
His Death in 1GG7 — His Opened Grave — Estimate of
his Character 181—189
CHAPTER XII.
MISCELLANEOUS.
Our Floods — Ancient Punishments — Deaths from Drowning
— The Tiltridge Tragedy — Poisoning Case — Ancient
Games — Weather Rhymes — Superstitions — Curious
Epitaph ... 190 — 201
SUPPLEMENTAL CHAPTER.
THE CASTLE OF HANLEY.
The Norman Founder — The House of De Bellocampo —
The Home of a Princess — A Noble Wedding — The
Duke of Warwick — The King-maker and his Family —
The Young Earl of Warwick — Sir William Compton —
Destruction of the Castle — Relics of the Past ... 202 — 211
APPENDIX.
Words and Phrases of unusual sound or meaning current in
the Parish of Upton, with many examples and deriva-
tions ... ... ... ... ... ... iii — xxxviii
INDEX xxxix
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
No. To face page
I. upton from the ham Frontispiece.
II. OLD MARKET CROSS AND CAPTAIN BOUND'S STONE ... 27
III. THE KING'S STABLE AND ARCHWAY FORMERLY IN NEW
STREET 31
IV. OLD HOUSES IN CHURCH STREET 42
V. PART OF HIGH STREET 62
VI. THE TAKING OF UPTON BRIDGE 76
VII. OLD WEATHER *VANE, PHILIP BOUND'S TOKEN, AND
STATUE OF THE CRUSADER Ill
VIII. THE NEW CHURCH 136
IX. DR. DEE ... ... ... 153
X. END OF NEW STREET ... 172
XI. SOLEY'S ORCHARD, 1860 181
XII. OUR GHOST 186
XIII. A CUCKING OR DUCKING STOOL 192
XIV. OLD UPTON BRIDGE, 1852 194
ERRATA.
Page 13, line 26, transfer Holefeld to next line, after Bracey.
,, 100, line 31, for eight read five.
,, 147, line 27, for eloquen read eloquent.
.,, 183, note, last line, for amily read family.
„ 184, line 32, after August 1 (date of Captain Bound's
death) insert 1667.
,, 205, line 16, omit comma after years.
Appendix, p. xii., line 38, for moose read ousel.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
CHAPTER I.
THE EARLIEST UPTON.
In undertaking a second edition of Records and
Traditions of Upton-on-Severn, I must begin by con-
fessing that these fifteen years have not brought me
one more tradition worth mentioning ; indeed, were
this my first attempt at preserving our unwritten
history, I should have but a scanty stock of materials
to draw upon. The delightful old boatmen and
gardeners, and the friendly old women, who recorded
the agonies of the cholera time, and dwelt upon the
sayings and doings of Captain Bound as though he
had been a personal acquaintance, have nearly all
passed away ; and traditions come to us now as what
" Grandfather used to say, but I reckon 'twas only a
tale."
With regard to history it is very different ; at nearly
every point something has come to light, and the
further study of local history has shown me that the
chronicles of an ancient parish are in a certain sense
the chronicles of England. The wars and revolutions,
the changes of laws and of rulers, which have scarred
and altered the fabric of the nation, have left their
marks, too, on that small portion of the nation, a
B
2 THE NATION IN THE PAEISH.
parish, just as a twig may have the same lines and
veins as its parent tree, or a Lit of rock show by its
structure and markings the history of the cliff from
which it was taken. We are all ready to own this as
regards certain important places. We can all remem-
ber how such names as York and Exeter, Derby and
Bristol, came over and over again in our historical
lessons, whether these were studied in Markham and
Maguall, or in Clarendon and Froude. We know,
too, how some smaller towns, such as Evesham and
Tewkesbury, are so associated with great events that
we can hardly pass their railway-stations, if we are of
historical minds, without recalling old memories of
fierce battles which decided the fate of the kingdom.
But there are many other parishes — and Upton, we
must own, among them — whose names seldom appear
even in the pages of county histories, and which seem
to us now to have always lived their quiet local lives
with no great events to mark them, but which yield a
perfect treasure of history to those who study their
records patiently. Fifteen years ago we had not
indeed discovered our most ancient record, although it
is one which can hardly be claimed either by history
or tradition. A block of basalt at the corner of
School-lane was identified by a geologist as belonging
to the mountains of North Wales, and as having been
borne down to us by a slowly melting iceberg in the
far distant ages of the glacial period, and by it
deposited on the river banks.
In times modern as compared with that block of
basalt, although ancient as regards the chronicles of
England, about a.d. 50, we get the beginning of our
history. There is much for, and nothing against, the
theory that Upton is the Upocessa of the Romans,
mentioned by Ravennas as one of the military stations
on the Severn; if so, there was, in all probability, a
British village on the same spot, for the conquerors
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. i$
seldom made new settlements, but Romanised thoee
which they found in suitable localities. The wide
ford across our river would be one of the gateways to
the land of the Silures, and important to them as
being within a few miles of their camp on the Malvern
hills.
We have only the hills, the river, and the wild
flowers in common with those ancient people. Their
eyes saw the same beautiful outline of the Malverns
standing out against the western sky ; their men
caught salmon, shad, and eels in the same Severn,
although it was then a broader and shallower stream ;
the British children filled their little hands with prim-
roses and violets, and probably made " tosty balls "
and daisy chains, just as our boys and girls do with
the floral descendants of those wild flowers after
eighteen centuries of spring times.
In all else there is a sharp contrast between the
Upton of the present and the Upton of the past. Now,
our eyes rest upon a peaceful little brick-built town,
with its church tower at either end, one bearing a
spire, the other a cupola, surrounded by fertile gardens,
orchards, and pastures, on the bank of a broad river,
along which the puffing steam-tug heads a long pro-
cession of deeply-laden barges and trows ; then, we
might have beheld, amid marshes and dense woods,
a cluster of wattled huts, encompassed by a stock-
ade of young trees, within which the cattle were
driven for shelter at nightfall, and the light coracle,
with its single occupant, darting to and fro across
sedgy pools and twinkling rapids. Now, Upton
claims its share in the inherited greatness, the full
life, and the vast empire of the English people ;
then, the British village was a frontier post of the
savage tribe of the Silures, whose western limits
were in what we now call Glamorganshire, and
whose eastern boundary was the Severn. Cruel,
4 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
superstitious, uncivilised, they were nevertheless
Bplendid barbarians. There is nothing grander in
the history of the conquest of Britain than the gallant
fight which these Silures made for every rood of their
land. At this period their prince was the celebrated
Garadoc, or Caractacus, whose courage in battle and
dignity in captivity we have all admired from our
childhood. It is supposed that he held the camp on
the Malvern hills for a time, and only withdrew from
it to Shropshire on the near approach of the Romans.
This crisis may have come at the time when, after
forming a camp at the Mythe, a conquering legion
crossed the Severn at Upton. That campaign was
Btrangely different from the short and brilliant episodes
of modern warfare. The advance of Rome was sure,
but very slow, with halts every few miles to entrench
a camp, and secure supplies of food for the advancing
army. Our Britons must have expected the I tomans.
They would gather in numbers to defend their homes
and their river when the first glitter of the eagles was
seen, and the steady tramp of disciplined troops was
heard. It must have been the story of the landing of
Julius Csesar over again: the fierce barbarians rush-
ing into the water, hurling showers of javelins and
stones, yet powerless to resist those soldiers who
always obeyed to the death and never retreated.
"Within the last few years relics of that national
Btruggle have come to light ; there were found ten feet
deep in the clay which was part of the old river-bed a
bronze celt, or spear head, and a metal ball. The
authorities of the British Museum consider that the
former is a celt of the first century. The metal ball
i^ myst( rioua and unique ; it may have been used as
a weight for a fishing net, but probably it was a
missile for one of those catapults which, as we learn
from Joseph us, were so frequently used in Roman
warfare.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 5
The ford was perhaps taken with half an hour's
fighting, but at least half a century musthaVe elapsed
before the conquerors would enjoy secure possession of
the surrounding district. Long after their king and
their great camps were alike in the hands of the
Romans, the Siiures kept up an incessant and harass-
ing warfare from the shelter of their woods and hills.
Many a little part} 7 engaged in road-making, or divert-
ing themselves with the chase (ever a dear delight to
the Romans), must have been surrounded by over-
powering numbers of barbarians, and have found their
graves- in the wilderness. But, notwithstanding their
gallant resistance, the native races were at length
subdued ; their warriors were slain, the flower of their
youths and maidens were sent to the slave markets of
Italy, and those who remained settled down into con-
tented subjection to their masters. Those masters
taught them road-making, building, farming, all the
arts of civilised life, and everything but fighting and
self-reliance.
One gleam of hope shines on this troubled period
from what may be called legendary history. When
Caractacus was released from imprisonment at Borne,
we are told that his old father, Bran, remained there
as a hostage for seven years ; he learnt Christianity
from the teaching of the Apostles, and was probably
one of the little company who gathered daily in St.
Paul's " own hired house." When allowed to return
to Britain, he devoted the remainder of his life to
going about among his people and telling them of
Christ. This roused the fierce wrath of the Druidical
worshippers, but, although often ill-used and beaten,
he still persevered, and taught many to believe as he
believed. It is only a legend, but one that may be
well founded on fact ; and there is something very
pathetic and touching in the picture of the old chief-
tain wandering about among his own Siiures, and
THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
caring for no hindrances, so that lie might win them to
the Saviour. Perhaps it was from some disciple of
"Bran the Blessed" that the lips of children in
Upoci 3sa first learnt to say "Our Father," and suffer-
ing men and women were taught to take their troubles
to the Great Consoler.
By the end of the second century Christianity was
general in Cambria, for, to quote Tertullian, " Spots
unapproachable by the Bomans had been subdued by
Christ.'' Four hundred years after the invasion of
the Romans there was woe and wailing on the banks
o( the Severn, and this time not because the Bomans
were entering, but because they were leaving the
country ; the poor cowardly Britons were as defence-
Less as a flock of sheep when the shepherd has left
them, and the howl of the wolves is heard afar.
The Severn valley was one of the first to be ravaged
by Bictish invaders, who carried off the crops and
cattle, burnt the towns and villages, and drove the
wretched inhabitants to the shelter of the hills and
forests. There is nothing to show us how the district
west of the Severn emerged from this state of havoc
and ruin, but it still formed part of Cambria nearly
five centuries after Hengist and Horsa landed at
Ebbstieet.
While the English invaders were stamping out
Christianity through the rest of the land, and destroy-
ing every vestige of British language and laws, Wales
still preserved the Christian liturgy which had come
down from primitive times. There was the poetry
which still survives in the Mabinogion and the
courage and chivalry of Arthurian history and
romance. While the men of Evesham and Pershore
\\. re worshipping Odin and Thor, and owning allegi-
ance to the king of Mercia, the sound of Christian
creed and prayer was still heard on the western shores
of tlie Severn.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 7
Upocessa was in the diocese of the Bishop of Here-
ford, and he was one of the seven who conferred with
Augustine at the Gospel Oak, and who, whilst agreeing
with the new missionary on the great points of doctrine,
refused to submit to the authority of the Bishop of
Rome. In spite of many invasions, the Britons
sturdily resisted all attempts at annexation, but it is
possible that, as the centuries passed away, friendly
relations were established between the English and
the inhabitants of this little border town. The com-
mercial tendency of the English people would find
early development in constructing quays and ware-
houses to receive the goods which they would bring
from Bristol and Gloucester in those long narrow boats
which were the predecessors of our trows and barges.
Probably Upton at the end of the ninth century
numbered as many English as Celts amongst its
inhabitants, and was as bi-lingual as any little town
in the heart of Wales at the present day. The two
races would be further united in common danger and
suffering when the " black Dane " impartially devas-
tated Mercian and Cambrian territories. The glare
of the burning abbey at Pershore, followed in a few
weeks by the lurid fire-cloud which hung for days over
unhappy Worcester, would give long warning that the
Vikings were drawing near, and the Upton folk would
thus have time to hide themselves with their cattle
and goods in some remote part of the wooded hills,
whence they would see at a distance the huge black
banner of the raven floating above the Danish camp
on what was called Ravenhill ever after. They made
a halt here on their march to Hereford, and a field
called Dane-moor in the adjoining parish of Welland
is mentioned as a spot where the invaders received a
temporary repulse.
It was about the year 930 that this district
became part of England, by Athelstane's victory over
8 the nation in the parish.
a British kins, ^" no seems to have been a very hero of
romance; his name was Margadud, the "fairest of
men," and his home was in Malvern, where he dwelt
with "mickle folk, and owned all the good land into
8 vera." Athelstane crossed the Severn and attacked
the prince in his fortress, probably the magnificent
entrenchments of the British camp. ■' He heid them
exceeding hard, and drove them with his weapons out
over the Wye."* Thus the rule of the Cymri ended,
and for more than one hundred years English laws
and customs prevailed in western Worcestershire.
Note to Chapter I.
Since writing the above, I have feen a portion of a book
entitled '• The British Hands, Proposed in one view in the
English Mappe : with a Generall Description of Great Britwine
Vnder the Ttomcms" (the property of C. H. Rickards, Esq.),
which bears the date of 1(510, and in which the following passage
occurs immediately after an account of Worcester: " Places of
further note for memorable antiquitie, is Vj>ton, of great account
in the Roman time, where some of their Legions kept, as witnesse
their monies there often found : " &c.
* Ancient chronicle quoted in Allies' Worcestershire.
CHAPTEE II.
UPTON UNDER THE PLANTAGENETF.
We have but few indications as to how the next
great national change, the Norman Conquest, affected
Upton, but it is ignominiously described in Domesday
Book as " part of the Bishop's manor of Ripple." The
Bishop of Worcester remained in possession of some
land in the parish, called " The Bishop's Chase," but
the manor soon passed into the hands of the great
Lords of the house of De Bellocampo, who exercised
some rights as suzerains over it. Our oldest historical
document has been found in the Public Record Office.
and is a small discoloured piece of parchment, being
one of the " Feet of Fines," and constituting the
lower portion of an ancient deed of transfer. From
this we learn that, in the reign of Richard I.,
Peter de Stinsterbe gave certain property in Upton to
William de Sautmareis, on the occasion of the marriage
of Anice, sister of Peter ; the dowry included a moiety
of the town of Upton and certain lands, which are
minutely described as " stretching to the lands of
Gilbert the forester, where the potteries lie." This
indication of a forgotten industry has been verified by
the recent discovery of some fragments of mediaeval
pottery, in digging near St. Gabriel's Church, in the
parish of Hanley Castle, and not far from the
beautiful old house called Gilbert's End. That part of
Hanley formerly bore the name of Potter's Hanley,
and the trade was probably kept up until the dis-
10 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
afforesting of the Chase deprived the potters of their
supply of wood for the furnaces.*
An identity of armorial bearings proves that William
of Saltmarshe, Sautmareis, or Salso Marisco, was
one of a family which has owned the lands of
Saltmarshe, near Howden, since 1067, when they
were granted to Lionel Saltmarshe, on the occasion
of his knighthood by William of Normandy. The
Conqueror knew how to choose his friends, and
was aware that lis was sending a brave and trusty
champion to that part of England which was
most resolute in opposing his rule. In the fol-
lowing year all Yorkshire rose as one man at the
coming of Sweyn of Denmark, and many of the Norman
knights were slain before they could build themselves
castles. The family of Sautmareis escaped these
dangers, and the next head of the house was knighted
by William Rufus in the Forest of Dean. His
descendant, Sir Arthur, a century later, fought in two
crusades, and by the side of Richard the Lion-heart
at Acre, and his effigy, in mail armour, is in the
church at Howden. He was the elder brother of
William, who found his way to Upton, and who may
also have been a crusader, or in Richard's war with
France, for knighthood was only given in the days of
the Plantagenets for " doughty deeds." He seems to
have had a friend, Ralph de Tilly, who had obtained
estates in Upton, and they also shared the town of
Rodenham, in Yorkshire. Through some neglect on
Ralph's part the town passed into the hands of
Eustace de Vesci, after a lawsuit; but, to compensate
Sautmareis for his loss, the King made an order that
Ralph should surrender to Sir William certain estates
:;: Mr. Barber, of Gilbert's End, is in possession of some curious
specimens of Eanley pottery, including a ridge tile, with orna-
mental finish, of the fifteenth century.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 11
in Upton and elsewhere. It is possible that this was
the other moiety of the town, or manor of Upton, and
that the Saltmarshes made their home in a substan-
tial Norman dwelling, with large hall, tiny chambers,
and corner turret, on the site of our present manor-
house.
There was little happiness to be found in any
English home during the latter years of the reign of
John. Sautmareis had not long held his newly
acquired estates before all England fell under the ban
of the Interdict ; and shortly after this was removed
the barons rose in arms against the King. John was
well known and little loved in this part of England,
on account of his neglect of his first wife, the heiress
of Tewkesbury, and his horrible cruelty towards the
wives and children of the insurgent lords of the Welsh
Marches. Late in the autumn of 1215 De Bellocampo
marched to join his brother nobles in the eastern
counties, and in his train rode Sautmareis, bound to
follow the fortunes of his Lord, but knowing well the
dangers to which he left his home exposed. De
Bellocampo and his knights were among those to whom
we owe the Great Charter, and they had to endure
some of the worst sufferings which fall to the lot of
patriots, in the misery and ruin of those they most
loved. John never spared an opponent, and he
wreaked his vengeance on the adherents of the barons
by ruining their homes. He sent an order to the
Sheriff of Worcester, early in the spring, directing
him to put Robert de Clifford in possession of the
lands held by Sautmareis in Upton, and Dame Anice
and her children were hurried from their home, only
taking such property as they could carry with them,
and leaving the manor-house, with food and furniture,
tenants and cattle, to the mercy of De Clifford. He,
however, was himself soon displaced, and three times
more the Sheriff came, with his posse comitatus, to
12 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
eject an occupant of the manor-bouse, and put a new
one in possession by force of law. De Clifford gave way
to a man with the extraordinary name of Mort Mari,
which seems like some play on that of Sautmareis ; he
was shortly turned out for Sir John de Arderne,
knight of the Earl of Chester, who could hardly have
settled down before the Sheriff appeared again to re-
instate Sir William de Sautmareis, " in all that he
had held in Upton and elsewhere, before he appeared
in arms against our Lord the King." This was,
most probably, just before John's death ; but, even so,
the manor changed hands four times in less than two
years, and each knightl}" owner, after being put in
possession, would have to hurry away to court or
camp at the summons of the King, so that the Sheriff
had only to encounter such resistance as could be
offered by women and servants. The vassals in those
wretched times had but an increase of misery with
each change of -masters; market and fishing dues,
rents and fines, would be exacted with an unsparing
harshness by those who felt they had but a precarious
ownership.
The family of Saltmarshe, or, as it is more com-
monly styled, de Salso Marisco, held Upton for about
a hundred and twenty years, and Sir William's
grandson, or great grandson, was apparently one of
those lesser barons who became plentiful in the
days of Henry III. This "Lord Peter de Salso
Marisco" appears in the pages of the "Anglia Sacra"
as the antagonist of the Bishop in two law-suits,
instituted against him because he had appropriated
two houses and a meadow, which were claimed by the
Church ; and also, in the following year, because he
had endeavoured to obtain the advowson of the
Rectory. In both suits De Salso Marisco was worsted
by Walter de Cantilupe, the able Bishop of Worcester,
and was obliged to agree to pay " a hundred marks
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 13
yearly, and the services of half a foot soldier," for the
benefit of the Church. This grasping baron married
Alicia, daughter and heiress of Gilbert de Beauchamp,
Lord of Cromb. Their son, another Sir William,
appears as the largest taxpayer in Upton early in
the reign of Edward II., and the line of De Salso
Marisco of Upton ended in his daughter Alice, who
married Paul Cardiff. Some estates in Worces-
tershire were owned by a Peter de Salso Marisco a
generation later, and he was probably a cousin of
Alice, the heiress, who seems to have parted with the
manor of Upton on her marriage.
The taxgatherer's roll, in which the name of Salt-
marshe appears, is a most curious document, preserved
at the PJiydd Court ; the following are the Upton
names chronicled : —
De Willielmo de Salso Marisco ... xlvj" viii d
De Willielmo de Hethe v"
De Rogero, Piscatore ... ... ... xjj d
De Philippo de Hethende ... ... iiij 9
De Joharme Pandoxatrice ... ... xij d
De Roberto de Southende ... ... iiij s
De Hugone de Monte ... ... ... vi s viij d
De Priore Minor is Malvernie... ... vj 8
De Willielrno le Bonde ... ... xiiij d
De Nicholas de Coulesdon Holefeld... iij s
De Willielmo Bracey ... ... ... xviij s
This list of names tells, what we also read in the
pages of history, how a silent revolution had been
going on, uniting conquerors and conquered into one
nation. Englishmen were ceasing to be serfs and
villeins, and could hold land under certain conditions
of service. The most industrious and thrifty of the
serfs had long before become peasant proprietors, and
the great middle-class was growing out of the lower.
It will be seen that there are only two names of Nor-
man gentlemen, Salso Marisco and Brace} 7 , the latter
residing at Holdfast, but holding lands in Upton.
14 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
The Englishmen of the middle class do not possess
surnames, but are called after their dwellings or
occupations. The Heath, Heathend, Southend, and
the Hill are Upton homes to this day, but Coulsdon
has been obliterated. Roger, the fisherman, had
done so well with his salmon and eels as to have
become proprietor of a cottage or field ; of John
Pandoxatrice we know nothing, nor of the land owned
by the Priory of Little Malvern. William, the bonds-
man, was doubtless the ancestor of the family of
Bound, so well known in Upton history. The term
Bonde may either indicate that he was still a bonds-
man or serf, or that he was known as having been
on some especial occasion a legal bondsman or
surety.
In the course of the thirteenth century the De
Clares succeeded the De Bellocampo family as
feudal chiefs of Upton, thus connecting our town with
some of the most interesting people of their time.
Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, when middle
aged, wedded the Princess Joan Plantagenet, daughter
of Edward I., and Upton, with Hanley Castle and
the Chase, formed part of her dowry. They often
resided at Hanley, and thus Upton must frequently
have seen the Red Earl, with his fiery locks and
soldierly bearing, ride through the streets, and by his
side the beautiful young princess bride. Numbers of
Upton men must have been in that great levy of
Missals which was gathered on the crest of the Mal-
verns. to dig the boundary ditch between the lands of
De Clare and those of the Bishop of Worcester, with
whom the Earl had a quarrel concerning the right of
hunting on the hills. The only son of the Red Earl
and the Princess was another Gilbert de Clare, who
inherited all the finer qualities of the Plantagenets,
mid exercised a great influence for good upon the
weak nature of his young uncle, Edward II. He
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 15
was the first to fall among the hidden pits and
stakes of Bannockburn, and is familiar to us in the
"Lord of the Isles" as "Earl Gilbert." He died
childless, and his widow, Maud de Burgh, followed
him to his grave at Tewkesbury a few months later.
In the account of his estates furnished to the King
there is an item which explains one of our local
names. Certain payments are due for keeping kids
at " Le Hoke," a forest term which signifies a nook
or corner, and in this case, doubtless, stands for a
grassy glade in the Chase, which we now call the
Hook*.
The county of Glamorgan and the De Clare estates
in this neighbourhood passed to Earl Gilbert's sister
Eleanor, who was given by the King in marriage to
his favourite, Hugh de Spenser. He was hated by
both the Queen and the nobles, on account of the
great favour shown him by the King, and his own
haughty and ambitious character. Under his influence
Edward resorted to excessive taxation, both of the
nobles and clergy, at a time when England was in a
state of the saddest misery. The harvests had failed
one year after another ; and at last there was a
famine so dreadful that the people fed on rats, mice,
and all manner of vermin, while numbers who could not
get even this food died by the waysides. Eleanor de
Spenser was a good woman, and doles at the church
doors or at her castle gates may have lessened the
sufferings of some of the Upton poor ; but the
stewards of these suzerains were sent to collect the
pence of the labourers and of the peasant proprietors,
not only at the stated times of tax-gathering, but
whenever the chief was going to war, or wanted a
portion for a son or a daughter. De Spenser would
require his bailiffs to levy extra subsidies on account
of the breaking out of that war in which, for the first
and last time, an English king and his queen headed
16 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
hostile armies. When Edward, deserted and beaten,
endeavoured to fly to Lundy, De Spenser went with
him, but, being driven back by equinoctial gales to
the coast of South Wales, both sovereign and noble
fell into the hands of their enemies. The Earl of
"Winchester, De Spenser's father, had been already
taken, and was hanged at Bristol, his body being
thrown to the dogs. The favourite himself was only
allowed to live three weeks longer, and w T as hanged
at Hereford, on October 29, 1320. "What horror must
have thrilled the hearts of Upton men and women
when they heard that the husband of their Lady,
Eleanor de Clare, had suffered an ignominious death
on the other side of the hills, and learnt from eye-
witnesses how the proud and stately nobleman had
been drawn on a hurdle through the streets, and
then hanged on a gallows fifty teet high, portions of
his mangled body being sent to different towns.
Upton was still held by his family, and his grand-
son, Lord Edward de Spenser, was much given to
church building, and was also a hero of contemporary
history. He was one of the leaders under the Black
Prince at Poictiers, and was a Knight of the Garter at
the institution of the order. His son Thomas married
Constance de Langley, a granddaughter of Edward
111., and daughter of the Duke of York. She
and her husband married very young, and, like his
grandfather, he shared the ruin of an unfortunate
king. Shortly after Richard II. had been de-
posed and imprisoned, De Spenser was beheaded
at Bristol, when the fifteenth century was but a fort-
night old. Constance de Langley, who had not only
her full share of the beauty and grace of the Elanta-
genets, but also their tendency to political scheming,
was concerned five years later in a plot to put her
cousin, the Earl of March, on the throne. She escaped
ill consequences to herself by implicating her brother,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 17
the Duke of York, who was disgraced and imprisoned.
The De Spenser estates seem to have passed to the
Crown under attainder, for it is not until nineteen
years after her husband's death that the Countess
Constance is recorded to have held as her dowry the
manor of " Upton-super- Sabrinam," with Hanley
Castle and Bushley.
Her daughter Isabel, one of the noblest and most
high-minded women of her time, was married twice,
and each time to a Eichard Beauchamp. The first,
who was Earl of Abergavenny and of Worcester, was
killed- at the siege of Meaux ; and her second husband,
Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, to whom she
was wedded at Hanley, was the harsh custodian of the
Maid of Orleans, and is said to have secured her
in an iron cage, and to have superintended her
death by burning. He, doubtless, thought that he
was doing his duty in destroying a dangerous sor-
ceress ; and the same stern sense of duty made
him inflict personal chastisement on Henry VI. , to
whom he was appointed governor. The poor little
eight-year-old King made complaints to the Council
of this severity, and the Earl, in answer, requested
that no person should be allowed to interfere between
him and his Highness. It must have been a real
satisfaction to Upton boys to feel that they were
doffing their caps to a man who had scourged their
sovereign. Eichard Beauchamp had been one of
the dearest friends of Henry V., and had com-
manded under him at Agincourt. His wife was so
devotedly attached to him that when he died, while in
command in France, her excessive grief undermined
her health, and she only survived him a few months.
Her daughter by Lord Abergavenny, and also her son
and daughter by the Earl of Warwick, were born at
Hanley Castle, and on her death the boy, being only
fifteen years old, was left to the guardianship of
c
18 ,THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Henry VI.. who loaded him with honours and
favours. While still a youth, the King created him
premier Earl, and afterwards premier Duke, of Eng-
land, to the great displeasure of the nohility. He
also invested him with the titles of King of the Isle of
"Wight, and of Jersey and Guernsey, and himself
placed the crown upon his head. He seems to have
been a very attractive person, as much beloved by
the people as by the King ; but neither honours nor
affection could prolong the life which was bo excep-
tionally prosperous, and he died at his birthplace,
Hanley Castle, at the age of twenty-one. His sister
Anne became the wife of Richard Neville, Earl of
Salisbury, the renowned King-maker.
No other family in mediaeval England rose to so
great a height of prosperity, or sank to so low a
depth of ruin, and Upton must to some extent have
shared its fortunes. The Earl and Countess owned
Middleham, in Yorkshire, and several other castles
far more splendid than Hanley, and it is probable
that they did not visit it as frequently as did the
De Clares.. De Spensers, and Beauchamps, but came
to it for a few weeks now and then, as to a Worcester-
shire Balmoral, where they could be free from irksome
state, and enjoy hunting in the beautiful Chase. We
can hardly realise, in these days of railroads, the
amount of pomp and magnificence with which this
almost royal couple moved about. In our own times
there is comparatively little of outward grandeur in
dress or equipage to arrest the attention of an ordinary
observer, and to distinguish persons of rank and
dignity from those of a lower grade; but in the
middle ages sumptuary laws writ' rigidly enforced,
and station and degree were marked by sharply
defined types of costume. It was impossible then for
the merchant, the artisan, or the peasant to imitate
ever so remotely the apparel of the noble, the knight,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 19
or the squire ; and equally so for the wives and
daughters of the middle and lower class to copy the
fashions affected by dames and maidens of gentle
blood. Thus when the Earl and Countess of Warwick
rode through the streets of Upton, the centre of a bril-
liant group, in rich attire of silk or velvet, adorned with
plumes and jewels, and escorted by a cavalcade of armed
and liveried retainers, the splendour of the pageant
would be heightened by its contrast with the sober suits
of the traders, and the coarse garb of the mechanics,
before whose shops and hovels it swept ; and the eager
crowd'of gazers would be the more intensely spell-bound
by the passing vision of gleam and colour, because of
the dull surroundings of their own daily lives. We
~can imagine how some Upton cottage girl would feel
her heart swell with admiring envy when she glanced
from her own coarse kirtle and plain hood to the
radiant figures of Warwick's daughters, the ladies
Isabella and Anne Neville. They had a happy and
peaceful home life, and were, besides, the greatest
heiresses and loveliest maidens in England ; yet in
future years there was not a peasant in Upton who
might not have been thankful to be spared the
troubles that befel those lovely ladies. Isabella be-
came the wife of
" False, fleeting, perjured Clarence,"
whose treachery caused the death and ruin of her
father, and whose dagger helped in slaying her sister's
husband. She died at Tewkesbury, not without some
suspicion of poisoning at the instigation of her hus-
band.
Her sister Anne had a longer and more wretched
life. She was married when quite young to Prince
Edward, son of Henry VI., " the most beautiful and
gracious prince in all Christendom," and they dearly
loved each other, although the alliance was one of
20 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
political expediency. After a few weeks of happy
married life, she accompanied him to England on that
last disastrous expedition which finally wrecked the
hopes of the Red Rose adherents on the fields of
Barnet and Tewkesbury. She waited with Queen
Margaret at the old house at Busliley, with the din of
battle in their ears, and when there came the tidings
of utter defeat and the murder of the prince, the Lady
Anne tied to London, and was concealed for a year or
two in a house in the city, under the disguise of " a
kitchen wenehe."
Richard of Gloucester had loved her from her child-
hood, and she had detested him. She knew that he
was resolved to win her now that she was free, partly
from the old passion for her beauty, and partly
because he wanted to share the great Warwick
estates with his brother Clarence. At last her hiding-
place was discovered, and, by what means we cannot
tdl, the poor young widow was compelled to marry
him ; but Richard soon tired of her, and treated her
with cold neglect. Her life was passed in seclusion
until, in 1443, she became Queen of England ; and
alter the coronation she accompanied Richard and
their only son, Prince Edward, on a royal progress
through several counties of England. She cared
nothing for pomp or state, but found her only comfort
in her boy ; and when he died in the following spring,
the mothers strength gave way, and she followed him
in a few months.
The Countess of Warwick held a position in the
nation hardly lower than that of a queen, and she
stood fur higher in popular esteem than either Mar-
ket of Anjou or Elizabeth of York. She was of
irreproachable character, devout and loving, and of
dignified and gracious demeanour. After the Earl's
death she was treated with an amount of cruel harsh-
ness which made the rest of her life one long misery.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 21
Official records tell us how everything was taken from
her and divided between her two rapacious sons-in-
law, "as much as- if she were naturally dead." Fcr
some years she was in the deepest poverty, and there
are extant piteous letters from her, entreating some
help wherewith to buy necessary clothing and to pay
for her lodging. The poor lady was probably kept under
some sort of surveillance which prevented her from
applying for relief to her wealthy princess daughters.
When both her children were dead and Henry VII.
came to the throne, all the vast estates were nominally
restored to her, but she was compelled to execute a
feoffment, granting to the King and his heirs all that
had belonged to her husband and herself, the manor
of Sutton in Warwickshire alone being retained for
her own use. The manor of Upton-on- Severn and
two or three other estates were appropriated to the
use of her young grandson, Edward of Clarence, who
bore his grandfather's title of Earl of Warwick. They
served but to pay his prison expenses in the Tower,
where he was kept in most dreary captivity for
fifteen years, until, from want of education, com-
panionship, fresh air, and everything that can
brighten a young life, he had become semi-imbecile.
His death was made a condition of the marriage
between Prince Arthur and Catherine of Aragon, and
he was beheaded on a pretended charge of treason in
1499.
He was the fourth Lord of Upton who within two
centuries suffered capital punishment for alleged
political offences, the others being the two De Spensers
and Clarence (owner in right of his wife) ; and on his
attainder and death the manor of Upton reverted to
the Crown.
It must not be thought that the only links which
bound the history of our parish to that of the nation
were the payment of dues and taxes, and the privilege
22 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
of gazing at the great people and their retinues. Each
feudal chieftain when he went to war required men as
well as money from his domains. In the fourteenth
and fifteenth centuries, as England was seldom at
peace, boys and men were accustomed to the use of
arms as a necessary preparation for the business of
life ; and when the feudal chief was about to march to
battle, his agents selected the strongest and finest
men from each parish. The great Earl of Warwick
owed his title of King-maker not so much to his
political adroitness as to the thousands of well-dis-
ciplined soldiers whom he could bring into the field
to turn the fortunes of a campaign ; and on every one
of his vast estates there were vassals whom he kept
well drilled in the use of bills and bows. Upton men,
with the bear and ragged staff of Warwick on their
sleeves, went cheerfully forth to die on the fields of
Towton, St. Albans, Barnet, and Tewkesbury, just as
their ancestors had fallen following De Clare at Ban-
nockburn, or De Spenser at Poictiers. The great
lords have their record in history, but their vassals
fought, and died, and filled nameless graves, while the
fishers and artisans of Upton only knew that their
sons were slain when their comrades came home
without them.
T< » return from the great feudal lords to the occupiers
of the manor of Upton, we find that the Saltmarshes
were succeeded by two knights of the name of De Boteler,
who were probably father and son. They came of the
family of Wemme in Shropshire, and the elder was,
according to Habingdon, " a Knight of the Holy
Voyage," which must have been the last crusade. He
made a romantic marriage with Anacaretha, daughter
of Griffin, " a Prince or Peare of Wales." * About this
period the English and the Cymri were becoming very
* Habingdon.
THE NATION IN THE PAPJSH. 23
friendly: the marriage of Eleanor de Mont fort with
Llewellyn had set the fashion of such alliances, and
many a knight or baron of Norman descent found a
bride of Celtic blood. Perhaps De Boteler was a
comrade in some of the French campaigns with Prince
Griffin, and accompanied him home to his Welsh
castle in one of the intervals of peace. The noble
Cambrian ladies were, if we may trust their poets,
exceedingly beautiful and accomplished, and specially
gifted with the national talents of poetry and song.
This noble dame and Sir Thomas probably resided at
the old manor-house, and we may conclude that they
were joint founders of the old church which was built
about this period, and must have been a stately and
costly edifice, with tapering spire and windows of
stained glass. Their monument was in the place of
honour, between the " Paryshe's chauncell " and the
"Parson's chauncell," and is thus described by
Habingdon : "Under an arche curiously wrought of
straunge thinges in forreyne countreys [suitable to
those wch Sr. John Maude ville's book reporteth]
theare lyeth betweene the towe chauncells on a raysed
monument the portrature of a Knyght and Baron all
armed savinge his face, his ryght hand on his swourd
threateninge to drawe, on hys leafte arme hys sheylde
(wheareon he beareth gules 2 barres erm. Boteler).
His legs crossed showethe he was a Knyght of the holy
voyage, wch expyred 4 Ed. II., defendinge Christianity
against God's enimyes, and at his feate a Lyon. On
his right hand lyeth hys wyfe, wth a chyn muffler
(an Ensigne of honor) and her mantill wth three
roes of Ernryne a badge of greate nobility, and at her
feete a Talbot. On the ryght syde of the Tombe his
armes as before on the shyld and her armes defaced."
Habingdon considers that the knight was " Sr. William
Botiler, son of Sr. William de Boteller, whose Father
Rafe married Matilda, daughter of William Pandolns,
24 THE NATION IN THE PAEISH.
Baron of Wemnie, Salop," from whom be inherited,
as shown by his arms. It may have been that tin
King granted Upton to his noble lady, Anacaretha, on
her marriage.
This curious and beautiful monument was destroyed
at the removal of the old church in 1756, with almost
every other relic of antiquity ; the broken pieces were
used as rubble to fill up the four-foot space between
the floors of the ancient and the modern church, and
here the ligure of the knight was found in making a
vault about fifty years ago, and was placid on a
raised tomb near the Holy Table. It is said that
some broken fragments of Anacaretha's figure were
also found, but, being too much damaged to be pieced
together, they were left among the lUbris.
Several charters and deeds relate to the 3-ounger
Sir Thomas de Boteler, the latest bearing date 1350.
Three years earlier he had been a commissioner to
collect the fine or subsidy required from every noble
or knight on the occasion of knighting the Black
Prince. From some armorial bearing, mentioned by
Habingdon as being in the east window, it appears
that a family of the name of De Seneschal had some
concern with Upton, but we have been unable to
ascertain more about them than that they held lands
in Worcestershire, and that one of the family was
seneschal of Evesham Abbey, and thence probably
was derived the name.
We begin now to know something about the inhabi-
tants of Upton who were of lower degrees than barons
and knights. A deed at Ham Court (1350) concerns
some transfer of land to John le Bracey from Peter
le Pomeynor, whose name may mean that he was a
cider-maker, or the owner of an orchard. The wit-
nesses to the deed were L'eterle Kings, John Richards,
Robert Ffleming, and John le Spenser, i.e., the butler.
Le Bracey had, we may conclude, some capital which
THE NATION IN THE PAKISH. 25
enabled him to purchase land at a time when the
small proprietors were eager to sell.
In 1348-9 the most terrible pestilence known to
modern history had swept over England ; more than
half the population perished from its ravages, and it
was specially fatal in towns whether great or small.
At Bristol the living were scarcely able to bury the
dead. Worcester is said to have lost nearly half of
her people, and Upton, always liable in ancient times
to epidemics, probably lost quite as large a proportion.
All classes and all places suffered from this plague,
but it slew its largest number of victims among the
poor. The horses and cattle strayed through the
fields un watched and untended, while the fruit was left
ungathered, and the harvest unreaped. In a year
and a half the price of labour was nearly doubled,
and there w r as a corresponding rise in the price of
provisions. It was only by reducing the rents by one-
half that the farmers could be induced to hold on
their farms, while the smaller proprietors eagerly sold
their lands to the highest bidder. Every part of
England was agitated by the struggle between capital
aud labour, that earliest strike which followed on the
" black death." In vain the " statute of labourers "
enjoined that men should work at the same wages
which had used to be given two years before the plague
began, and decreed that branding on the face should be
inflicted on anyone who left his own parish in search
of work. In vain the great landowners endeavoured to
rivet anew those fetters of villeinage wilich had become
loosened by time and the growth of a free spirit
among the people ; the peasant war and subsequent
risings ended in the establishment of free labour, and
almost extinguished serfdom.
It was at this time that William Longland, under
the name of Piers Plowman, indited his gloomy and
powerful description of the evils of the day. His
20 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
vision is pictured as coming to him on a May morning
on the Malvern Hills, as "he rested him on a broad
bank by a burn side," looking over the fair expanse
of wooded scenery, which is no less fair after the lapse
of five centuries. His portraits of individuals and
specimens of classes, the free labourer striving for
higher pay, the ''wasters who will not work but live
well on alms, wandering about," the knights " who
wrest gifts from the poor," the friars and parish
priests, the lawyers and traders — all these may have
had their originals in this immediate neighbourhood,
and give a vivid idea of the national life of the
times.
The list of rectors given in Nash begins in 1278
with the name of William de Sordich, who had a
controversy with the Rector of Ripple concerning
some ancient tenements lying within the manor of
Upton, but belonging to the church of Ripple.
Amongst other points, it was ruled by the Bishop, in
November, 1278, that for the future the inhabitants
of the houses in question should not be obliged to bury
their dead at Ripple, it being impossible, or very
dangerous, for them to be taken thither in flood time ;
and the Rector of Ripple was therefore discharged
from visiting them, giving the sacraments to them,
and burying them, which, for the future, was to be
done by the Rector of Upton. Either this controversy
or the Hoods must have affected the health of William
de Sordich, for in 1282 he is allowed a coadjutor,
Peter of Wye, who was appointed by the Bishop on
account of the Rector's infirm health. We know
i iot 1 ling about the other rectors of the fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries, except that one is styled Thomas
of Upton, and that another, John of Monmouth,
became Bishop of Llandaff. A deed of transfer
at the British Museum and other deeds at Ham
Court mention some names of Upton inhabitants.
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THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 27
Amongst these were Richard Whitynton, who was
one of the family immortally connected with Bow
hells and the cat ; two brothers of the name of
Lykenor, Roger Pargener, William Berkley, and
John King.
The only material relics left to us of Upton under
the Plantagenets are the old church tower, the figure
of the Crusader, and, in the grounds of Ham Co art,
a cross which stood in the middle of the town, and
round which the market people clustered every Thurs-
day in the year. Nevertheless, we know exactly how
the Worcestershire peasants of the fifteenth century
lived and looked, for the quaint carvings on the stalls
in the chancel of Ripple Church picture to us the
occupation and dress of the labourers, as they went
about their daily work ; and the Goomstool cottages,
lately pulled down, showed the sort of homes to which
they returned at nightfall. These houses were erected,
probably, quite at the end of the fifteenth century, and
may be taken as a fair type of the dwellings of the
poor. They consisted of a tiny kitchen below the
level of the ground, communicating hx a ladder-like
staircase with an equally tiny, low-roofed bedroom,
while a sort of cupboard behind the kitchen was the
only further provision for domestic needs. The town
was considerably smaller than at present, but was
thickly inhabited, busy, and prosperous ; the people
were mostly fishermen, boatmen, and trowmen ; the
supply of salmon, eels, and other fish was plentiful,
and commanded a ready sale at a time when the fasts
of the Church were rigidly observed. Navigable rivers
were highways of commerce before the da}s of turn-
pike roads and railways, and all western Worcester-
shire benefited by the Severn, on which Upton was
one of the most important landing-places, being the
port for Herefordshire and Monmouthshire. Down
the river came great boats bearing woollen and silken
28 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
stuffs, pottery, and iron ware, while up stream were
conveyed stores of spices and sugar and foreign
fruits, with frequent cargoes of French or Rhenish
wines. The goods, when landed, were taken on pack-
horses to neighbouring halls and villages, or over the
hills into Herefordshire and Monmouthshire, and it is
to be feared that in those remote times Upton boatmen
were not always very honest, for the Bishop of
Hereford, on one occasion, made grievous complaint
of the way in which his wine casks had been tapped
by Upton men.
Leland, in his Itinerarium, mentions "a bridge of
wood" over the Severn at Upton in the sixteenth
century, and probably some such structure had existed
here for a long period. The Lords of Hanley Castle
found a bridge useful in aiding their own progresses
and the business of their tenants, and, as they had
inexhaustible supplies of timber, it cost them little
more than the labour of their vassals to throw a rude
bridge across the river, in place of one which had
been swept away in a winter flood, or demolished in
time of war. The English farmers had become an
important class by the time of the war of the Roses.
Those whose ancestors had been peasant proprietors
two hundred years earlier, and who had struggled
through the "black death " time without loss of life
or lands, had become yeomen of good position.
Several of this class seem to have owned lands on the
borders of the^ Chase, according to the mention made
of Greenfields* in a deed at Ham Court, bearing date
1495. It was devised to Margaret, wife of John
Boyler, by John Eastington, the builder, no doubt, of
the line old house which bears his name in Longdon.
The name of " The Palace," still attached to a farm-
house on the Ledbury-road, shows that it stands on
what was formerly the Bishop's Chase, being a small
portion of the extensive Malvern Chase. Old people
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 29
used to speak of an ancient house, pulled down some
seventy years ago, which had heen the dwelling of the
"gentleman as governed the Chase." The chief-
rangers' abodes were at HanlevHall and Eastington,
but there may have been a verderer's house on this
elevated position, whence he could survey the forest
between Upton and Malvern Wells.
CHAPTER III.
UPTON BETWEEN THE CIVIL WARS.
When the estates of the young Earl of "Warwick
passed to the Crown under attainder, stewards and
bailiffs were put in charge of them, and rendered from
time to time what are technically called " ministers'
accounts." Some of these have been found to contain
curious information as to localities and customs in
Upton and Hanley,the two parishes being so intimately
connected that it is often difficult to tell to which
some fields belonged, or from which some payment
was due. The most notable stewards and sub-bailiffs
were Sir John Savage, Groom of the Chambers, and
Mr. John Knottesforde. The latter was given great
estates in Malvern, and is described on his monument
in the Priory Church as "a servant of King Henry
VIII." ; he bought Holdfast from one of the Braceys,
and his family held it, and probably some land in
I'pton, for two or three generations. It is interesting
to find that many of our fields and farms have the same
names as those they bore in the reign of Henry VII.,
only somewhat changed to suit modern speech ; thus,
Boy mede, Fish mede, and Hay mere have changed
mede and mere to meadow, while Collinghurst, Burley,
and the Park farm remain unaltered. The last was
hard by le Hoke, that grassy glade where the kids
browsed, in the heart of the forest. Several meadows
near the river are mentioned as paying no rent,
" because they are allotted to the use of the King's
TIMBER DOQRWAV FORMERLY IN NEW STREET
THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
31
stable." This stable is mentioned by Leland, and a
building at the water-side still bears this name. It is
probable that Hanley and Upton were held from the
Crown, on condition of keeping this stud of horses for
the use of the King. Upton was among the many
estates granted by Henry VIII. to his friend and
favourite, Sir William Compton, but his history
belongs to that of Hanley Castle. We have been
unable to ascertain who occupied the manor-house,
and it may have fallen into decay and not been
inhabited until rebuilt by the Bournes or Bromley s
toward the end of the century. The last rector of
pre-Beforniation times was a prebendary named
Savage, who was succeeded by Dr. William Ley son,
appointed by Bishop Latimer. In his time the
congregation in Upton Church first heard the Holy
Scriptures read, and learned to say and sing prayers
and psalms, in the English tongue.
Our only record of the work of the Reformation in
Upton is supplied by the " inventories of Church
goods " in the time of Edward VI. In the sixth year
of his reign, 1552-3, commissioners were appointed to
require the Custos Rotulorum and the Clerk of the
Peace, together with the Bishop and his officers, to
procure books and registers, and make inventories of
" the goods, plate, jewels, vestments, and bells or
ornaments " of all churches and chapels, and send
such inventories to the Privy Council. According to
Mr. Walcott's Inventories of Church goods, &-c,
temp. Edward VI., from the Public Record Office,
the greater part of these " goods " was " reserved
to the King's use, that is, confiscated; whilst
only a few necessaries for Divine service were left
to each parish." The list of goods for our parish is
as follows : —
" Upton upon Syverne, Aug. 8 —
j chalyse, the weyte of it xii. oz. ;
32 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
A crosse of copper gylt ;
iij belles ;
A hroken bell, the wyclie doth lye in gage for casting the
other bells ;
A blew cope of Satan a bridges (satin of Bruges) ;
j sute of blew braunched sylke ;
A vestment of tauny velvet ;
A vestment of worstede."
This is entitled " An Inventory presented by Syr
•Times Madew Curate Thomas Hall Wylliam Cowley
at this time Church wardens Robert Savige John
Sandlans which at the last inventory makynge w T ere
Church wardens dated in the yeare of our Lord 1552
the viij day of Aug."
Mr. Madew, lure designated by the clerical title of
" Syr," was curate to Dr. Dee, of whom a fuller account
is given elsewhere. Dr. Seth Holland, who had been
chaplain to Queen Mary, was appointed by her to the
rector}' of Upton : hut at the accession of Elizabeth
he was deprived of all his preferment, and committed
to the Marshalsea, it may be supposed on a charge of
treason, and died in prison in two years' time. Of the
next three rectors we know nothing but their names,
and the spiritual needs of Upton were probably sup-
plied by a succession of curates. Our oldest register
book begins in 1544, and, although much damaged by
neglect and old age, is a volume of great interest ; it
reveals the inner life of the parish, and shows us the
Elizabethan Upton liable to much the same accidents
and faults, and inhabited by much the same families,
as those of our own days. The names of Brick,
Farhy. Biddle, "Weaver, Sandelands, and Cotterill
meet us on every page : a poor man of the name of
Griffin Apprice "was drowned one day in Seaverne,
with his ass also ;" and another entrv is of a sadly f ami-
liar character, chronicling as it does the death of a
victim of drunkenness :
" John Grabell of liushley dyed sodenly, as some
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 33
suppose from taking over much drink, and was buried
the third day of February, 1586."
About the time of this catastrophe Upton was
having some share in the troubles which resulted
froin the changes in ecclesiastical laws. The liturgy
of the Reformed Church had been in use for more than
thirty years, and still a considerable number held them-
selves aloof from her services. It was characteristic
both of Elizabeth's shrewdness and of her avarice,
that she did not attempt to question these subjects of
hers as to their opinions and doctrines. Their thoughts
were left free, but not so their actions ; for she insisted
that every English man and woman should appear in
his or her parish church once a month, or be fined,
after due warning, in the sum of £'20. Many of the
Roman Catholic gentry resisted this decree until their
incomes were greatly reduced by repeated fines, and
at last only conformed to avoid being ruined. Some
refused to pay the fine, but the result was that, when
thirteen months had elapsed without their appearance
in church, their houses and lands were seized and
handed over to some one who undertook to pay so
much per annum to the Queen. Thus it happened
to Mr. Richard Hill, of Greenfields, whose house
and lands were leased to Thomas Williams for the
yearly payment of £2 6s., the remainder of the
rent, we may hope, going to the owner. There are
two entries in the register which refer to these
troubles ; about the same time that Greenfields was
sequestrated, Mr. Pemberton, the curate of Upton,
notes : —
" The body of one Roger Hill was brought for burial,
but thecuratt for divers reasons refused to bury him."
(1583.)
It seems that the family became tired of beingfined,
and two years later began to conform, as the curate
records : — •
3Jt THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
" William, the son of John Hill, recusant., baptized,
the ninth day of August, 1585."
The whole of the Hill family had continued Romanists
up to this time, but in general it appears as if it were
the women who clang most tenaciously to the old ritual.
In Upton, Elenor Warne,a widow, and Elizabeth, wife
of John Sutton, were each fined £20 twice over, as
happened also at Longdon to ])orothy and Francesca
Wrenford, ladies of good position. In Ripple, two
brothers of the name of Moore, fishermen, and Fran-
cesca, the wife of John Winnall, are stated to have
been fined in the penalty of £40 each ; we are not told
whether these Ripple fishermen managed to pay a fine
which may be estimated at about £250 of our present
money. In Hanley, Mr. Lechmere, being, according to
his grandson, Judge Lechmere, "of the Romish per-
suasion." was much impoverished by repeated lines,
and " obscured himself in "Wales " for the remainder
of his life. Another gentleman of Hanley, Mr. Hugh
Lygon, and Barbara, his wife, were determined neither
to go to church nor to pay fines ; the result was that
their house and lands were sequestrated and leased to
a Mr. Suftield. Other names of recusants in Hanley
are Follyot, Newport, Wakeman, and Lethe. The
greater number of these recusant families belonged to
the Reformed Church in the following generation, but
the Moores of Ripple are still Romanists, although no
longer fishermen.
It is not from public documents nor from parish
registers alone that we become acquainted with the
Upton of this period ; the deed of gift which conveyed
Hall's Charity Estate, and which is still to be seen,
tells us many particulars as to houses and fields, and
the occupation of sundry persons in the parish.
Among the original feoffees were live yeomen and two
husbandmen, ;ill of Upton, bearing the names of Cot-
terell, Williams, Hall (two), Brauderd, Pynnock, and
THE NATION IN THE PAMSH. 35
Sandland. Edward Hall, by a deed, bearing date
the fourth day of March, in the eighteenth year of
Elizabeth, gave, feoffed, and delivered to fifteen
feoffees certain messuages and lands for the repara-
tion of the parish church of Upton, for the reparation
of the bridge, and for other necessary purposes within
the parish. It was no bequest to take effect after
his death, but a gift during his life ; and it would seem
that by this bounty Edward Hall reduced himself to
poverty, for the only person of that name buried in
Upton„ within half a century of the feoffment, is
"Edward Hall, a servant, who died in the house of
Mr. Knottisforde (in 1580)." How he became possessed
of so great a property as that described in the deed of
gift there is no evidence to show ; he could not have
made his fortune by his learning, for he seems to have
been too illiterate even to sign his name.
Among the many curious and interesting documents
at Ham Court is a grant (1557) from Philip and
Mary to Sir John Bourne, Secretary of State to the
Queen, of Upton-on-Severn, and two or three other
manors, " being part of that which is called War-
wick's land, in the county of Worcester." Sir John
Bourne belonged to a notable Piomanist family ; his
brother Gilbert, Bishop of Bath and W T ells, is de-
scribed by Fuller as "a zealous Papist, yet of a good
nature, and well deserving of his cathedral." This
" good nature " was not a characteristic of either his
brother or his nephew, who were successively lords of
our manor. " Sir John Bourne reconciled a firm
grasp of Church doctrine with a firm grasp of Church
property;"* and managed to secure a considerable
portion of the sequestrated estates, among which was
the manor of Battenhall, in the parish of St. Peter's,
Worcester, where he generally resided. He professed
* Diocesan History of Worcester (S.P.C.K.).
36 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
outward conformity with the Anglican Church, attend-
ing, as he stated before the Privy Council, his parish
church "for the most part daily," but he was sup-
posed to have mass celebrated in his own house, and
otherwise to evade the law. Sir John and his son
Anthony waged constant war with the Bishop of Wor-
cester, Dr. Sandys; and, on this account, they were
at last imprisoned in the Marshalsea, and only released
on condition of making an apology to the Bishop.
Both father and son had a bitter antagonism to the
prebendaries, chiefly on account of their being mar-
ried men, and accused them, amongst other crimes,
of " having the pipes of a great pair of organs, being
one of the solemn instruments of this realm," molten,
into dishes for their wives, while the case was made
into bedsteads. "When a servant of one of the pre-
bendaries omitted to doff his cap to Sir John, he sent
his own servant to follow him into a shop, where he
smote him, so that he was dangerously injured.
Anthony Bourne was of a still more violent and
pugnacious character than his father. When quite a
young man, while crossing the river at Worcester in
a ferry-boat, accompanied by his mother and some
servants, he violently assaulted two " ministers'
wives," who had the misfortune to be their fellow-
passrngers ; and a few days later he ostentatiously
sharpened his sword, and proceeded to the Bishop's
palace, offering to fight and slay " the Bishop's boys."
There are many letters in the Public Becord Office
from the wife of Anthony Bourne, detailing instances
of her husband's cruelty and ill-temper, which made
it impossible for her to live with him. It may have
been owing to her remonstrances that after her death
their two daughters, who had some independent for tune,
were consigned to the care of Sir John Tracey, of
Toddington. Anthony Bourne had sold what he could,
including Holt Castle, which was purchased by Chan-
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 37
cellor Bromley ; and, being in very needy circum-
stances, desired to have the guardianship of one of his
daughters, and thus to enjoy her fortune. To effect
this, he won over a " ryder or groom" of Sir John
Tracey's to undertake to bring the young lady to a
certain spot, where he was to meet them, in company
with Bate Horiryold, one of the ancient family of
Blaclanoor Bark. When the two gentlemen reached
the place appointed, they found neither maiden nor
groom, but three armed men ; and in the scuffle
that, ensued Mr. Hornyold was mortally wounded,
while Bourne escaped by creeping into a hedge. One
of Anthon} r Bourne's daughters married Sir Herbert
Croft, and by her husband and herself the Ham
Court estate was sold to Sir Henry Bromley, on the
occasion of his marriage to Anne, the widow
of Mr. Knatchbull, and daughter of Sir Thomas
Scot, of Scot's Hall, in Kent. Under the settlement
of this marriage, Upton and other estates were pur-
chased for £4,200, and entailed on the descendants of
Anne by Sir Henry Bromley. The sum seems small,
even allowing for the different value of money, as the
price of a property which included Great and Little
Malvern, Newland, the two Croomes, &c. Appended
to this settlement are the signatures of Lady Croft
and her husband, Sir Henry Bromley, and his bride ;
and also, among the witnesses, that of the Earl of Essex.
From the signature of Essex, and subsequent
events, we gather that the Bromleys formed part
of that brilliant circle of friends, who were, socially
and intellectually, the foremost in England. It
included Essex himself, chivalrous, impulsive, and
charming ; Lord Southampton, Shakespeare's best
patron and beloved friend ; and Lord Pembroke,
who had so much of the grace and courage which
characterised his uncle, Sir Philip Sidney ; also Sir
Henry Bromley's two sisters, Elizabeth, wife of Sir
38 THE NATION IN THE PAPJSH.
Oliver Cromwell, and Muriel Lyttelton, wife' of Mr.
John Lyttelton, of Frankley. This gentleman was a
zealous Romanist, although his wife and all the Brom-
leys were deeply attached to the Reformed Church.
Shakespeare, with his exquisite wit and enthusiastic
friendship, was often associated with this circle of
friends ; and we may believe that he drew some in-
spiration as to his nobler female characters from such
women as Anne Bromley and Muriel Lyttelton proved
themselves to be, when political troubles scattered
that brilliant society.
Sir. Henry Bromley was the son of the Lord Chan-
cellor who presided at the trial of Mary Queen of Scots,
and had succeeded him in the possession of Holt Castle,
near Worcester. He lost his tirst wife soon after their
marriage, and the motto "Sol occultus mens" on his
portrait taken in the year following, probably refers to
his bereavement ; he shortly took another wife, who
died a year or two before he married Anne Scot, and
became lord of the manor of Upton. He was a
man of mark in his time, and a great favourite of the
Queen's, who appointed him High Sheriff of Worces-
tershire, and a Commissioner to investigate cases of
recusancy.
In 1601 Sir Henry was implicated in what we call
Essex's Plot, but which may be better described as an
attempt to obtain more freedom for the country, and
to secure the succession to the throne. It was chiefly
concerted by the little company of friends referred to
above, and 'Shakespeare lent his aid by bringing out
the play of Richard II. to educate the opinion of the
public. Two days before the head of Essex fell on the
block, Sir Henry Bromley and his brother Edmund
were arrested and examined on the charge of treason.
The behaviour of the former was manly and dignified ;
although he denied all thought of treason against Her
Majesty, he protested his loyalty and affection to the
TIIE NATION IN THE PARISH. 39
Earl of Essex. His brother was of a meaner spirit,
for he threw all possible blame upon Sir Henry, say-
ing that he had done naught but take his messages,
and that he would gladly have stayed in Worcester-
shire, being lame and of a sickly nature, " but his
brother would have him away to London." His
excuses were accepted, and he was set at liberty, while
Sir Henry was committed to the Tower.
A more faithful friend than his brother came to
cheer his captivity in the person of Lady Bromley.
She took lodgings at the house of "Widow Harman,
in the precincts of the Tower," sharing her husband's
imprisonment as nearly as might be, and remaining
close at hand in the dingy City lodgings far away from
her three little children and her peaceful home in
Worcestershire. Among the old books at Ham Court
there is a Bible which bears Lady Bromley's initials,
and contains entries of the births of her children on
the fly-leaves, in her own writing. Another hand, that
of her son, records the ending of her life. The order
of release came earlier to her than to her husband,
for in April, 1602, at her City lodgings, she expired
after giving birth to a little son, and both were buried
" within the church of St. Catherine, by the Tower of
London." It was a sad ending to a married life which
had begun in the full sunshine of courtly favour and
prosperity. Divided only by prison walls and a few
yards of City street, yet the husband could not watch
by his faithful wife's deathbed, nor even stand by her
grave. Perhaps it was some compassion for his
bereavement that moved the aged queen to consent to
Sir Henry's release ; but, be that as it may, three
weeks after Lady Bromley's death he was set at
liberty. It is likely that some heavy fine was in-
flicted upon him, for many of the manors which are
mentioned in the wedding settlement were gone before
his son succeeded.
40 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
If Sir Henry had been suspected of disloyalty to
the last of the Tudors, he was able to prove his
devotion to the first of the Stuarts, when the Gun-
powder conspiracy startled all England ; and he
must have been specially glad to have an opportunity
of proving his gratitude to James for his kindness to
his sister, the wise and fair Muriel Lyttelton. The
Frankley estates had been appropriated b}' Elizabeth,
when Mr. Lyttelton was suspected of being an adherent
of Lord Essex, and the family had in consequence
been reduced to poverty. Mrs. Lyttelton met the
young king at Doncaster, on his progress to take
possession of his kingdom, threw herself at his feet,
and made such an eloquent statement of her husband's
case, that he restored the estates to the family. It
was two years later that the daring plot was dis-
covered which was to destroy at one blow King,
Lords, and Commons ; many of the conspirators were
at once arrested, but others tied to Warwickshire and
Worcestershire, in which two counties, by some of the
Romanist families, the plot had first been fostered.
Its details are said to have been fully arranged in an
old room still existing at Coughton Court, near
Alcester. Mr. Habingdon, of Hindlip Hall, was
known to be in favour of the scheme, and was
suspected of having given refuge to some of the
conspirators. Early one January morning, Sir Henry
Bromley, bearing a warrant from the King, and
accompanied by his brother and a band of retainers,
appeared before Hindlip Hall; Mr. Habingdon was
absent, but returned in a few hours to find his house
in possession of Sir Henry and his men, and sentinels
posted in every doorway and passage. In vain he
protested his innocence, "offering to die on his own
doorstep " if found guilty of hiding any enemies of the
King. Sir Henry was a near neighbour and a ci urtly
gentleman, and he must have found it disagreeable to
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 41
meet these asseverations with tacit unbelief, and to
continue an unwelcome visitor at Hindlip. A careful
search discovered in a hidden closet a store of vest-
ments and missals, but no sight or sound indicated
the presence of any human being beside members of
the household. At the end of the fourth day a panel
was slipped aside, and there tottered forth two pallid,
emaciated men, Chambers and Owen, who preferred
the possibility of hanging to the certainty of star-
vation, as they had only eaten one apple between
them during their four days' captivity. The Habing-
dons must have hoped that these arrests would
content Sir Henry, but he still waited on with un-
wearied patience, and watched every outlet ; the most
careful investigation of the massive walls failed to
discover anything but a few secret closets, until the
eighth day of the occupation, when from some un-
suspected corner came out Garnet, the Provincial
Head of the Jesuits, and Hall, a priest. They could
no longer bear the closeness and discomfort of their
stifling recess, although they had sufficient food : some
jam and marmalade were still unused, and they had
also been fed with caudle, or broth, conveyed in a
reed, through the back of a chimney. The capture
was of great importance, for while Garnet was at
liberty the Government could not feel safe from
further plots ; and Sir Henry was fully reinstated in
public opinion by the patience and loyalty he had dis-
played at Hindlip. We may be sure that the boys of
Upton keenly enjoyed burning their first Guy Fawkes
in the following November, and gave many an addi-
tional cheer for their squire, who had so materially
assisted in foiling the conspiracy. Sir Henry Bromley
had married a fourth time soon after his release from
the Tower. His wife was a City dame, widow of Mr.
Offley, "a merchant of the staple." She was many
years older than himself, but they seem to have been
12 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
an attached couple, and when Sir Henry died, in 1C15,
she described him on his tombstone as "religious, a
fond husband, and a lover of learning." Although
she was sixty-nine when left a widow, she was married
again to Dr. Thornborough, the learned Bishop of
Worcester.
It may be interesting to notice what were some of
the special characteristics of England at the end of
the reign of Elizabeth, and the more so because the
characteristics of the nation must needs be reflected
in the parish. In every record of that time we find
indications of the heroic endurance and diligent care-
fulness which we love to regard as special national
qualities. English sailors circumnavigated the globe,
and fought huge Spanish galleons, in vessels so small
that we should hardly like to cross the Irish Channel
in them on a stormy day. . English soldiers fought
against ten times their number, amidst every variety
of hardship and danger, and conquered by sheer un-
flinching heroism. In every pursuit of peace or war it
was a period of taking pains, and of doing thoroughly
whatever had to be done. Ships and weapons
might be small and inefficient, according to our
ideas, but they were of the best quality and fashioned
with the best workmanship ; soldiers and sailors alike
were drilled and disciplined with the utmost care, and
lads were taught to handle weapons, and bear hard
knocks and blows, as part of their education. In this
reign great advances were made in the material im-
provement of the country; waste and marshy lands
were reclaimed, new roads formed, and buildings of all
kinds, from castles to cottages, were multiplied in
many districts. Here in Upton, in all that is left to
us of Elizabethan workmanship, there is the same
excellence, both as to design and execution ; the
houses are still picturesque and comfortable, and their
walls and timbers are as strong as ever ; the bridge
o
r
I
c
in
o
x
c
X
o
i
H
X]
m
H
THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
43
built in 1606 was a stately and massive structure, and
resisted the fury of civil war and of winter floods until
1852, when it had to be partly blown up with gun-
powder. The handwriting and composition of our
public and private documents at this period are so
good as to put most of our highly-educated young
people to shame. We have been unable to find any
names of gentlemen from this neighbourhood among
the officers of the army at Tilbury, but we may con-
clude that from a market town like Upton many of the
men .went thither with the great contingent from the
Midlands, or to some of the stations along the sea-
coast ; many others remained at home, ready to march
to the nearest rendezvous when the beacons should
signal the arrival of the Spaniards. It was not until
after months of expectation that, on the last night of
July, 1588, Upton was awakened to see the warning
flame " on Malvern's lonely height," and from many
a house still standing men hurried out in the early
dawn to join the ranks of those who " were willingly
offering themselves " to resist the great Armada.
Two celebrated men became rectors of Upton at
the close of the period of which this chapter treats.
Dr. Eichard Eedes, appointed in 1596, was a well-
known preacher and author, and a marvellous
pluralist, for he held a chaplaincy to the Queen, a
canonry of Christchurch, the deanery of Worcester,
and two or three livings in this county. He was a
bright-natured, genial person, very popular with his
friends and at court ; and he must have been a man
of learning, for he was selected as one of the trans-
lators of the New Testament, but died before the
work was begun. His successor in the rectory, Dr.
Miles Smith, was one of the best scholars of his age.
The son of a flechier, or maker of arrows, at Here^
ford, he was sent in 1568 to Oxford, where he became
a most diligent student. He was deeply read in the
44 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
classics, as well as in the Latin and Greek fathers ;
he knew Chaldee, Syriac, and Arabic perfectly, and
was unsurpassed in his knowledge of Hebrew. He
is said to have been the first and last man engaged*
in the translation of the Scriptures, and he wrote
the preface to the Authorised version. He seems to
have been as much respected by his contemporaries
for his piety and kindness as for his learning, on
account of which he was called the " walking
library." He was also rector of Hartlebury, but
Upton may have had some portion of his time while
he was translating the Bible. The only indication
of clerical work, however, is in the signature of " Mr.
Robert Clave, Curatt," which, beginning in 1619,
continues for many years. Dr. Miles Smith was conse-
crated Bishop of Gloucester in 1612, but held on the
rectories of Hartlebury and Upton until his death in
1621. His opinions were of the Calvinist school of
theology, and he was a strenuous opponent of Arch-
bishop Laud.
A Prayer-book belonging to a family in Upton
bears the date of 1676, but the engravings are in the
costume of the beginning of that century ; so we may
take them as representing the aspect both of church
and congregation in the time of Dr. Miles Smith.
In one, where the clergyman is kneeling at a desk
with his back to the people, and saying the Litany, the
end of the Holy Table is shown, and stands from
north to south, as at present. In another, which
illustrates the Communion office, the celebrant is
shown in some sort of dark robe at the north side
of the Holy Table, the ends of which stand east and
west. The communicants are kneeling at the west
end, and behind the clergy on the north and south
sides, and there are no rails. In neither picture is
there any indication of seats, and the people are
kneeling on the pavement.
THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. 45
Note to Chapter III.
We heave received much valuable help from the careful re-
searches of friends in the registers and parochial account books
of Longdon, Hanley, and Severn Stoke; and the information
thus gained has often supplemented that which we have been
gleaning for years from our own books. It is curious to notice
that parish books, like families, seem to have certain character-
istics. Thus those of Longdon are homely and communicative,
giving details not only of church furniture and excommuni-
cations, but also as to accidents, soldiers, and tramps. Hanley
has kept its books with scrupulous neatness and great con-
ciseness ; it used Latin up to the time of the Civil War, but
Severn Stoke continued classical to the end of the seventeenth
century. Upton and Longdon used the " vulgar tongue ? '
nearly from the beginning of their books, except for an
occasional Latin sentence, which was apt to break off into the
vernacular. The Severn Stoke books are, taken altogether, the
best of all, for, while they are no less neatly kept than those of
Hanley, they are as communicative as those of Longdon
and Upton ; and the parish seems to have possessed a series of
officials who had "a ready wit," and who were well disposed
to enliven business with a jest. They also took pains to inform
posterity regarding any events of local interest ; as, for
instance, when the body of a murdered man was found in a
field near the village, or when Ralph Tidsall was drowned
in a flood, because he did not know how to manage his boat.
The Upton books vary as to neatness, but are in general full of
details, which have helped to illustrate the last three centuries
of our history.
CHAPTER IV.
THE CIVIL WAR TIME.
In our own parish, as in most others, materials
for parochial history are unusually copious during
this period. Upton was fortunate in having, both as
Lord of the manor and as Rector, men of consider-
able ability and of the highest character. In the
old Court by the meadows dwelt Mr. Henry Bromley,
son of Sir Henry and his third wife, Anne Scot. He
was a highly-educated and intellectual man, fervently
religious, and tenderly attached to his home and
family. His well-worn Bible and Prayer-hook and
his copies of classic authors are at Ham Court, and
also many of his manuscript poems and devotions ;
and from the latter we learn how tender-hearted and
conscientious, how thoughtful and scholarly, was this
first resident squire of that Bromley race which
owned our manor for nearly two hundred years.
The rift in the nation, which was to widen into the
great breach of the Civil Wars, had already begun
before he took up his abode at Upton, and it was
yawning wider and wider as his married life went
on; yet his poetry takes no heed of political events,
but dwells with gentle pathos on the fall of a bloom-
ing apple-tree in a midnight storm, or compares the
events of his own life to the uncertainties of a voyage.
He married Mary, flic daughter of Sir William
Lvgon, and of Elizabeth, daughter of Sir William
Harewell. There was no more nobly-descended
maiden in Worcestershire, her ancestry being derived
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 47
from Guy, Eaii of Warwick, the Lords of Powyke
and Beauchamp, and from Joan Bracey, heiress of
the family which had owned, amongst other estates,
lands in Upton and Holdfast. Madresfield Court has
been the home of Braceys and their descendants
from the time of the Norman kings to that of
Victoria. There is a door still existing which was
some centuries old when Mary Lygon passed through
it on her wedding morning, a fair young bride, in
some such costume as is depicted in her portrait at
Ham Court, taken about the time of her marriage.
The jewels round her throat and in her hair are
evidently of great value, and the ruff is of the most
exquisite lace ; the face is pretty, happy, and in-
telligent, with a firm mouth and clear eyes, the
countenance of one who shed an influence for good,
both in her home and neighbourhood.
Mrs. Bromley was a careful and tender mother, and
her husband's best friend and adviser during their
twenty-five years of married life. Mr. and Mrs.
Bromley made their home at Ham Court with their
six children. He was High Sheriff in 1627, an office
then of much state and dignity. Three years later he
suffered a penalty, which may have helped in attach-
ing him to that political party which was gradually
forming itself into opposition to the despotism of the
King. When Charles came to his kingdom, he found
his exchequer so exhausted by his father's extrava-
gance that he was destitute of the necessary funds
for maintaining his royal state, and specially for the
great expense of his coronation. He therefore devised
the plan of summoning all gentlemen whose incomes
exceeded a certain amount to attend that ceremony,
in order to receive knighthood. The fees required by
heralds, as well as by the Sovereign, were so enormous
that most country gentlemen preferred to remain at
home and be fined for non-attendance. Mr. Bromley
48 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
must have had a friend at Court, for he was only
required to pay the lowest fine, £10, equal to about
I' 10 of our money. The same amount was also paid
by Mr. Hackett of Bun-end, Mr. Hill of Greenfields,
and a Mr. Rawlinge in this parish. Longdon suffered
more severely, as seven of her gentlemen were fined,
and one of them, Mr.- Bridges, of Eastington, to the
amount of £'25. A great sum of money was raised in
this way, and the King and Queen were crowned with
due splendour, but the Englishmen of that period
would not submit to lose their money unjustly, and
many loyal hearts began to be estranged from the
King.
In a time when many of the clergy were illiterate
and careless, Upton was happy in having for its
rector Mr. William Woodforde, appointed in 1625.
Of his previous career we have no record, but he seems
to have been a well-educated and able man, and of
some note as a preacher. He lived and worked in
times remote, and under circumstances very different
from our own ; yet we seem to know him and his
people more intimately than if they had belonged to
a couple! of generations ago. The second volume of
our registers begins in 1027, and for nineteen years no
hand but that of Mr. Woodforde makes an entry in
its pages. How vividly, as we turn over the dis-
coloured leaves, filled with exquisitely neat writing and
elaborate details, do we see the conscientious kindly
rector rise before us ! We picture the daily service
in the old church, the little swaddled infant brought
to baptism within a few days of its birth, the chris-
tening party detained afterwards while Mr. Woodforde
carefully notes in his register the day and hour of the
child's birth, the names of the parents, and those of
the godfathers and godmothers. It is not difficult to
ascertain what was the social position of the infant's
father, and of which side in politics he was a partisan,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 49
by studying the particulars of each christening. It
is, however, in the burial registers that we get the
fullest information as to how Mr. Woodforde lived
among his people, concerned himself with their daily
troubles, and knew of each incident which stirred the
course of parochial life. " Ould father Evans" and
" Good wyfe Pendocke " are given the very names by
which their neighbours greeted them at church door
or market place ; " The wyfe of Henry Pennistone
(1629), one hundred years old," could remember the
church services in an unknown tongue ; while " John
Reynolds, fere centenarius," 1641, had grown to
manhood in the troubled days of Queen Mary.
We are told how Thomas Moreton was clerk of the
parish, and Mr. " Robert Claye, the Curatt," and also
very frequently what the accident was which had
caused the death of sundry persons. A fall from his
horse on Upton Bridge occasioned that of the servant
of Mr. Jeffries, of Earl's Croome ; an accidental or
angry blow seems to have killed Richard Hill, a tanner
of Ledbury, " who was strooke by mishap so as he
dyed." Mr. Woodforde alsochroniclesthe tragedy which
horrified the parish one August day, when two of the
principal farmers, who had been brother church-
wardens three years before, were killed by falling from
a rick. Everything about his parishioners was of deep
interest to the Rector : even when they were married
or buried in other parishes he carefully notes the
event ; as for instance, when one of the Gowers was
married at Maisemore, and when Mrs. Lygon, sister-
in-law to Madam Bromley, died here but was buried
at Branston. Nor did Mr. Woodforde allow his
register to chronicle the births and deaths of non-
parishioners without comment : —
" Walter Davis, a stranger of . . . in Gloucester-
shire, was drowned by Poole Brook, in a flood tyme,
and was buried August 25, 1610."
E
•"><) Till-: NWTIOX IX THK TARISH.
"A stranae wenche was buried ye loth October,
1636.*!
In this period of political and religious strife, Mr.
Woodforde was a Royalist and a sound Churchman:
there are several indications of his care as to festival
days, and we may be stire that he was strict in
observing the rules and rites of the Church. He was
not, however, one of the extreme party, for Mr. Claye.
who had been curate to Dr. Miles Smith, continued
to work under Mr. Woodforde ; he had the power of
yielding in non-essential points, as is evident from the
fact that he was allowed to retain his office between
three and four years longer than some thousands of
the clergy of England, and only left when required to
sign the Covenant* The old church by the river was
still stately and beautiful ; within its w r alls would
gather every Sunday, in the earlieryears of his ministry,
a congregation far larger, in proportion to the popula-
tion, than those of modern times; conventicles were
few and far between, and all who were not very ill or
very profane, went to church on Sunday morning as
a matter of course. A remarkable number of well-to-
do families formed part of Mr. Woodforde's congre-
gation* "Walking across the causeway fields, along
the ancient roadway, came Mr. Bromley, with his
fair and noble wife, and their troop of little children ;
;i shorter walk brought Mr. Hill to church from his
pleasant home at Greenfields, with his wife, a cousin
<>f the Bromleys. Mr. and Mrs. Lygon were residing
either at the Heath or the Hill, and some of the
Gowers were inhabiting Heath-end. They were
descended from a family that had owned estates in
Worcestershire for several centuries, -and among them
Queenhill, which was held from the Crown, on condi-
tion <>(' pr< senting one hound to the King annually
on the feasl of St. Michael. Mr. Rawlinge and Mr.
Lingham were gentlemen of good position at this
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 51
time, and lived somewhere in the country district, as
did Yeomen Cotterill and Sandilands, men whose
ancestors had occupied the same lands for many
generations. Among those church-goers there were
many who would, each year, put themselves more and
more in opposition to church ceremonies and the in-
fluence of the clergy, and who protested against them
by keeping their hats on in church, declining to kneel
at the Holy Communion, and agitating to have the
Holy Table removed from the east end to the middle
of the chancel.
Prominent among these " aggrieved parishioners "
were Mr. Hackett, the wealthy lawyer of Bury-end,
and Captain Bound, who inhabited the house by the
Bectory-lane, round which so much superstition yet
lingers. A cousin, or brother, of Thomas Bound kept
the large mercer's shop at the Cross, and Upton pos-
sessed another mercer of different politics, Mr. Chris-
topher Winbury. As to other trades, Thomas Pitt
was the chandler, or grocer ; Timothy Farley, the cord-
wainer, or shoemaker ; and Mr. Morris, the butcher.
The population of the town was smaller than at pre-
sent, and until 1632 our large country district was
nearly uninhabited. About this period the aspect of
the country was entirely changed. From pre-historic
times great tracts of forest land had stretched from
the hills almost to the river, only broken here and
there by a cluster of cottages round some village
green, or an ancient hall or farmhouse nestling under
the shadow of the woodlands. About a century
earlier there had been several clearings, which became
small commons, or were leased in lots of a few acres
to peasants who were rising to be farmers.
Nearly the whole of the vast Chase was royal pro-
perty, and Charles, being sorely in want of mone\ ,
determined on selling Malvern, as well as other
Crown lands in different parts of England, to the
52 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
highest bidder. It was a stretch of the kingly prero-
gative which excited lively indignation in the sturdy
Englishmen, who considered that they had certain
vested rights in the royal property. Their ancestors,
even when serfs and villeins, had fed their swine on
the acorns and beech-nuts of the forest, or tethered
their kids on the grassy uplands of the Hook. These
privileges were enlarged as time went on, and, on the
payment of a small due from each township, the poor
of the neighbourhood kept their pigs almost entirely
in the woods. The styes, lurking in unsavoury proxi-
mity to the Upton cottages, were only used as sleeping
apartments for the swine, which were driven to and
fro, night and morning, by happy urchins who whiled
a way their time in birds' -nesting, or in filling their
pockets with wild strawberries or hazel-nuts. Poor
folk could seldom afford coal in those days, and the
fallen boughs, which strewed the ground beneath the
old trees after every gale, must have often replenished
Upton wood-yards with the faggots which were to
blaze on their hearths on the cold days of winter.
The prospect of losing all these benefits caused an
amount of angry feeling in the neighbourhood, which.
is pithily described as "much rioting and tumult."
There was also strenuous opposition from the Wor-
cestershire gentlemen, with the result that the King
consented to a modification of his scheme. Only a
third portion was to be sold, another third going to
the lords of the manors, in parishes which bad
included any part of the Chase, and the remainder
being given as common ground for the people. This
arrangement was the sentence of destruction for the
old trees of the forest, but a few being spared from
the downfall. There is still at The Palace a ma-
jestic trunk of an elm, which was a well-grown young
tree when the King-maker went bunting in the Chase,
and near Little Mill is an oak of about the same
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 53
date, although in better preservation. With the
exception of these and a few other veterans, which
were allowed another century or two of life, nothing
remained of our woods, and the land cleared of timber
became breezy commons, or pasture and plough land.
In every direction small farmhouses and cottages
were built, each with its few acres or roods of land.
All the older dwellings in the country district date
from this period, and their first inhabitants must
have had something like the experience of backwoods-
men, in felling trees and "stocking" up the hard
ground undi airbed by any previous cultivation.
To many troubled hearts, the uprooting of those
lords of the forest must have seemed a symbol of that
more terrible uprooting of all that was most beautiful
and venerable in the Church and realm of England.
Before the newly-enclosed fields had yielded their
first harvest, or the cottages received their earli( st
inhabitants, men had begun to form themselves h to
opposing factions, and fierce attacks were made on
the liturgy and the clergy of the Church. New canons
had been framed by Convocation in the spring of
1640, when the rulers of the Church made their last
stand against the coming storm. One canon en-
joined that the Holy Table should be called an altar,
that it should be placed at the east end, and not in
the centre of the chancel ; that it should be fenced,
and that all persons should be required to bow them-
selves, both in going and returning from communi-
cating. Inquiries were to be made as to the keeping on
of hats in church, and also as to the practice of going
" after strange preachers, to the great disheartening
of men's own ministers." It was also ruled that all
ministers should preach the King's power and autho-
rity four times in a year, on pain of suspension. The
immediate effect of these bold measures was to stir
up the smouldering fires of theological hatred into
54 THE NATION IN THE PARISH,
destructive fury. A large number of men who were
still within the Church abhorred any approach to the
Romish ritual, still associated, in the minds of Eng-
lishmen, with the cruelty and oppression of Papal
rule previous to the Reformation. In this same
summer a quantity of " Popish books," found in a
house in London, were burned by the common hang-
man, amid the exulting cheers of the mob. In No-
vember, 1640, "the Long Parliament" met, which
was to see the overthrow of Church order, as w^ell as
of the monarchy, before its dissolution, and its first
action w T as against the episcopate. Just at this time,
when Mr. Woodforde's heart was sad with the begin-
ning of these troubles, he lost his only sister, Mrs.
Warrene, who apparently lived with him; he was
unmarried, and we get no other mention of his rela-
tions, unless a Mr. Warrene, to be spoken of here-
after, was his nephew. He sorely needed sympathy
and tenderness in the following year, when a decree
of Parliament directed all churchwardens to Avatch
the conduct of their ministers, and report anything
that was " scandalous or malignant " to a committee
of the House. The Upton churchwarden invested
with this odious pow r er was Captain Bound, and on
Beveral pages of the register below the beautiful
writing of "William Woodforde, Rector," there appears
the firm penmanship of "Thomas Bound, junior,
Churchwarden." The signatures of those two men, so
near as neighbours, so immeasurably apart in opinions
;iii<1 character, are a living sign to us of the differences
which were rending the nation at that unhappy time.
The faithful parish priest and loyal subject was yield-
ing as much as possible in non-essential matters, for
the sake of peace and his people, but always, in
church or out, then was a vigilant and unsparing
enemy keeping watch over his services and sermons,
his every-day words and actions. Many of the clergy
THE NATION EJ THE PARISH. ~>~>
were deprived of their benefices for no greater 1 offence
than bowing at the name of Jesus, wearing the sur-
plice, or making the sign of the cross, &c. As time
went on, the observance of nearly all feasts of the
Church was forbidden; but Christmas, with its
solemn services and traditional festivities, was com-
memorated until 1644. It then happened to be on the
same day as the monthly fast, which was taken by
the Puritan leaders to be a sign of " Divine interposi-
tion, because of the superstitions and profane usages
at Christmas," and an edict was passed ordering tha
in future it should always be a fast, and no feast.
Few things irritated the Royalists more than the aboli-
tion of their ancient festivals, and yet it must be
owned that the Puritans had some excuse for sweep-
ing them away. Easter, Whitsuntide, and Christmas
had been the seasons of the year marked by the
wildest revelry and excess, and especially of late,
when the more profligate and godless of the people
had ranged themselves on the Royalist side, not from
any true loyalty to Church and King, but because
they would not bear the stern rule of the other party.
It is to be feared that here, as everywhere else, many
of the Royalists drank deeply and swore loudly, in
mere antagonism to the decorous Jives and pre-
cise talk of their opponents. In many parts of
Worcestershire the gentry were Royalists to a man,
and the supporters of the Parliament were only to be
found among the farmers and tradespeople ; but in
Upton the case was reversed. Of Mr. Hill's politic-
we are uncertain, and, as far as we know, Mr. Ling-
ham was the only gentleman who, with several
yeomen and tradespeople, was on the Royalist side.
Among the partisans of the Parliament- were Mr.
Bromley and his brother-in-law, Mr. Lygon, although
more from political than religious opinions : also the
Cowers, and, in a lower social grade, the Hacketts
56 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
and the Bounds. In the immediate neighbourhood it
was much the same : Mr. Jeffreys, of Earl's Croome,
in whose house the poet Butler was then residing, the
Hornyolds, and the Russells were the only King's-
men, while on the other side were a large number of
influential gentlemen. Mr. Lechmere, afterwards Sir
Nicholas, was living at beautiful old Severn End, the
home of his family for nearly 600 years ; and he con-
ferred a benefit on later generations by keeping a very
entertaining journal of his life and times. His wife
was Penelope Sandys, a woman of much ability and
force of character. Both were on the side of the
Parliament, and so also was another gentleman
living close to Upton, although a parishioner of
Hanley, namely, Mr. Talbot Badger, who owned
Poole House, and, by his " holy and humble life,"
exercised much influence for good on his neighbours.
It must have added many a keen pang to Mr. "Wood-
forde's sorrows to have been thus estranged in
opinions from his most influential neighbours and
parishioners, and those who were of his own level as
regards education and culture. There was, however,
this compensation, that he was protected from much
of the persecution which was directed against the
clergy by the more violent of the fanatics, through
the good offices of Mr. Bromley, who, from his near
connection with Cromwell, had much influence in the
county.
In the spring and early summer, all over England,
men were recruiting and drilling in readiness for the
impending strife ; but it was not until one stormy day
in August that the Royal standard was unfurled at
Nottingham. Three weeks later Upton was midway
between the opposing forces. Prince Rupert com-
manded a body of horse at Powick, and a large de-
tachment of the army of the Parliament was stationed
at Pershore, under Lord Essex. Our town was im-
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 57
portant as having the only bridge between Worcester
and Gloucester, and across that bridge rode, on
September 22nd, a strong body of Essex's troopers, in
their plain armour and simple attire, grim and elated
as men sure of victory. The townspeople who had
greeted them with cheers or maledictions, and the
excited boys who had run after them as near as they
dared and as far as they could, were still talking over
the sight of the morning, when the thunder of ad-
vancing horse-hoofs was heard getting louder and
louder every second until, in wild disorder, Essex's
troopers came dashing in from Hanley. When
entangled in a narrow lane near Powick they had en-
countered the Cavaliers, and Prince Eupert had
dashed upon them in one of those charges which
afterwards so often nearly turned the fortunes of a
day. At Powick he won a complete and easy victory ;
numbers of the enemy were shot or cut down, and
the remainder fell into utter confusion. Their gallant
leader, Colonel Sandys, brother of Lady Lechmere,
strove in vain to rally them, but fell mortally wounded,
and his men were too panic-stricken for anything but
flight. The Cavaliers pursued them only as far
as the Ehydd, but in their terror they still dashed
wildly on, urging their tired horses with spur and
rein, past the orchards and gardens of Hanley, past
the old church of Upton, with its encircling houses,
away over the bridge, and across Defford Common,
and never drew rein until they reached the safe shelter
of their camp at Pershore. This brilliant skirmish
was the first affair of any importance in the w r ar,
and it had the effect of unduly elating the Royalists
and dispiriting the Parliamentarians. Both parties
expected that the war would have been over in a few
weeks or months, and the panic at Powick was taken
to indicate that the soldiers of the Parliament had
no' the discipline or courage to resist the Cavaliers,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
when led by commanders of experience in war. Before
the next summer the Parliamentary forces had re-
trieved their character, and shown themselves as good
and true soldiers as ever fought under an English
flag. _ .
During the four years of civil war, Upton had not to
endure the miseries of a siege, or the horrors of being
taken by storm. Unwalled and defenceless, it lay at
the mercy of any party which might choose to occupy
it, and thus secure the bridge which was a necessary
link on the road from East Worcestershire to Here-
fordshire. It had, however, its full share of the
discomforts of a war which was never for many
months absent from the Western Midlands. It is im-
possible to mention each time that the troops of either
party came to the town, and one or two instances
must serve for all. The Upton of those days was,
as to population and appearance, not very unlike
the present Upton, and it is easy to realise, therefore,
the effect of military occupation in those unquiet
times. In 1643 part of the Royal army under Prince
Maurice, and a large detachment of Parliamentarians
under Sir William Waller, were in Herefordshire.
Rumours of their varying fortunes would be borne over
the hills by some packman or traveller, raising the
spirits of King's-men or Parliament-men in turn. Late
one spring afternoon the course of life in the little town
went on smoothly as usual ; the housewives were
kneading the Hour, or stirring the plum porridge for the
< \ ruing meal ; the maidens had been to purchase fine
lawn or sad-coloured cloth from Philip Bound, or
their cherry-coloured and blue breast knots from
Christopher Winbury, according to the political bias
of their families ; the apprentices were wearying of
the counter or the workshop, and longing to put up
the shutters, ami geJ off to their fishing in the Severn
or bird-snaring in the woods; the men were lounging
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. H9
on the bridge, with hands deep in their leathern
pockets, watching, it may be, some of their comrades
towing a boat up the river, or getting their nets
ready for the night's salmon-fishing.
Suddenly, everyone was startled into excitement.
Some husbandman hoeing the young wheat on the
Palace farm, or some herdsman tending his cows on
historic Eaven Hill, had seen a sight in the distance
which sent him in hot haste to Upton. Glancing,
towards the hills, he had noticed dark masses of men
moving slowly down the steep road by Little Malvern
in regular order. They were partly hidden by clouds
of dust, but an occasional glint of steel in the western
sunlight showed that they were armed men. As they
drew nearer, anxious watchers could discern from
their banners and uniform that these were the
soldiers of the Parliament. There was barely time
for the startled Eoyalists in the town to hide away
their plate in the coal-cellars, and their cash under a
loose board, or in some garden plot where violets and
gillyflowers were scenting the evening air, before
Waller's detachment marched in by Ale-house Green
and Stocks-yat. They were eighteen hundred men,
cavalry and infantry all told ; men who believed both
in themselves and in the officers who had led them
to victory on many a well-fought field. Sir William
Waller was one of the ablest generals of his time, a
good man and a gentleman, while his second in com-
mand, Colonel Massey, is equally well known for his
successes when fighting for the Parliament and his
failures when opposed to it. Another of Waller's
officers was present, Sir Arthur Haselrig, with his
famous cuirassiers, called "the Lobsters," from their
supposed impenetrable armour. He had been one of
the five members whom the King had endeavoured to
arrest on the charge of high treason, and he was an
able leader both in political and military manoeuvres.
CO THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
On the first tidings of the approach of the Parliamen-
tarians, messengers had been despatched to the chief
parishioners, and Lawyer Hackett would hurry in,
armed with a long list of the townspeople, classified
according to their opinions. By this list orders for billet-
ing the soldiers were rapidly made out, and the house
of every Eoyalist was soon crowded from basement to
garret with unwelcome visitors ; while the Puritan
gentry and tradespeople received as many as their
rooms would comfortably accommodate. Probably
some of the troopers found their sleeping places in the
church, but it is hard to imagine how these eighteen
hundred men and several hundred horses found any
sort of shelter in so small a town, containing but a
few Royalist houses to be turned into barracks. The
detachments of Sir William Waller and Prince Maurice
at this period seem to have troubled themselves very
little with camp equipage, but moved rapidly about
the country, trusting to the enforced hospitality of the
towns.
Soon after the arrival of the troops Mr. Bromley
would appear on the scene, and invite the chief officers
to be his guests, either at Ham Court, or at his house
in Church-street, long known as the Court House.
He would exert his influence to shield his Eoyalist
neighbours from spoliation, but at the best they must
have suffered much loss and annoyance. The troops
of the Parliament were generally kept in good order,
and restrained from the violence and cruelty which
characterised earlier civil wars. It is to be feared
that the Royalist soldiers were far more lawless, and
this was the case especially in the divisions com-
manded by the King's nephews, Prince Rupert being
nicknamed by his ennui* s ''The Duke of Plunder-
land."* Waller's men may have paid honestly for
* " Perfect Diurnall."
. THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. 61
such provisions as were brought in by the country
people, but they probably gave scanty payment and
no thanks for what they ate and drank at the Royalist
houses.
Far into the night Upton was full of turmoil and
clamour, poultry and little pigs being caught and
slaughtered, furniture and bedding dragged from one
house to another, shops and store-rooms ransacked
for bread and meat, while in every inn barrels of ale
and cider were set running to supply the moderate
potations of the Puritans. Waller remained in the
town several days, and, if one of these days were
Sunday, it is to be feared that Mr. Woodforde had a
bad time of it. Many of the soldiers would prefer
assembling for worship in the fields, or on the banks
of the river ; but others would crowd into the church,
and among them would be many of those fanatics
whose delight it was to interrupt and disturb the
service. Mr. Woodforde was not a man to be easily
intimidated, and, standing there in his black gown,
the fair white surplice being now forbidden, he would
speak to that hostile crowd in the solemn words of the
opening exhortation. Probably one of the troopers
would speedily denounce him as " a priest of Baal,"
and insist upon taking his place for long hours of
praying and preaching. It is possible that the
Puritans employed some of their week-day leisure in
damaging the monuments, or breaking the stained
glass windows emblazoned with the arms of many of
the county families.
It was Sir William Waller's intention to break down
our bridge after leaving the town, so as to check the
advance of the Royalists, but Prince Maurice was " too
nimble for him," and came upon him so suddenly that
it was as much as he could do to clear out of Upton
and march towards Tewkesbury. His troops were
hardly out of sight before the van of the Royalists
'62 THH NATION IN THE PARISH.
appeared on the steep crest of Tunnel Hill.' On they
came, with waving plumes, scarlet cloaks, embroidered
gauntlets, and glittering armour, those two thousand
gallant Cavaliers, among them some of the most nobly-
born gentlemen in England. They had made a long
march over the hills to surprise the enemy, but every
man sat his horse with easy grace, and looked bright
and fearless. For the most part each officer com-
manded his own troop of tenants and neighbours, and
the silken pennons bearing their heraldic devices
fluttered gaily in the morning breeze, whilst over their
centre napped more heavily the massive folds of the
"Royal Banner of England." Near it rode Prince
Maurice, nephew to the King, and son of the beautiful
Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia. He was no less brave
a soldier, and a much better general, than his
brother, Prince Rupert ; indeed, Clarendon speaks
of him as " the greatest general of his time."
They marched by fours up Old-street, filling the
little town with picturesque life ; and the Royalist
inhabitants, who had been so harassed of late, now
saw the tables turned upon their adversaries. There
are four houses, depicted in the sketch of High-street,
which have hardly changed since that morning. Mr.
Edwards' house has been a butcher's shop from time
immemorial, and from the windows in its steep gables
Mr. Morris's pretty dark-eyed children may have
looked down on the splendid throng below : and in
those ancient buildings, now called "The Tea
Exchange " and " The Anchor," crowds of troopers,
with clanking spurs and sabres, pushed along the
narrow passages, or caroused in the low-roofed rooms.
There could hardly have been a place lit for occupa-
tion, or a mouthful of food in the dwellings of the
King's-men, but mops would be twirled and brooms
plied vigorously by housewives and maidens, who.
when work was done, joyfully put on their prettiest
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-THE" 'NATION IN THE PARISH. ()3
ribbons and laces to welcome the Cavaliers. The
house of every Parliamentarian in and near the town
was taken possession of. Ham Court and Severn
End, probably, would have their chambers and stables
as densely crowded as were the abodes of the Bounds
or Hacketts. It was a scene of indescribable turmoil.
The clatter of many hundreds of horse-hoofs in the
narrow streets, the shouts and laughter of the troopers
as they forced their way to unfriendly firesides, the
loud commands of the non-commissioned officers as
they rode to and fro, all these sounds combined into
-one inharmonious din; when, suddenly, above it all,
pealed out the music of the church bells. Those who
pulled the ropes to welcome the Prince knew that they
did so at the risk of fine and imprisonment, and,
perhaps, some sturdy Cotterill or Lingham rejoiced
in thus showing his loyalty. The Royalists only
remained twenty- four hours, as the scouts brought in
news that Waller was marching northwards from
Tewkesbury. Immediately the trumpets sounded to
arms, men were hastily equipped, and horses saddled,
and, in a very brief time, the two thousand had fallen
into their ranks, and marched in brilliant array over
the bridge, and so away southwards. In Ripple Field
they encountered Waller, with a slightly weaker force.
Some of his officers advised instant battle, others a
cautious retreat. The latter course was taken, and a
party of dragoons, supported by musketeers behind
the hedges, received orders to face the Prince's army,
and cover the retrograde march of their comrades.
But the Prince and his Cavaliers swept up to them in
an impetuous charge, and the dragoons broke and fled,
leaping the hedges and scattering the infantry. Sir
Arthur Haselrig and Colonel Massey prevailed on
their men to show fight, and so " in part took off the
foulness of that retreat." The main body made their
way in good order down a lane two miles long, and
64 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
when they reached the open country faced about to
meet the foe. What followed will be best told in the
words of a contemporary : " They only stood in a
maze, and on a sudden turned about and ran flock-
meale, the enemy on their backs.*" But for a detach-
ment from Tewkesbury which met the fugitives, the
skirmish would have ended in the utter destruction
of the Parliamentarians. It was an affair of which
their historians seem to have been somewhat ashamed,
but it was one of those barren victories which brought
glory and nothing else to the Royalists.
The Prince was not sufficiently strong to take
Tewkesbury, and he therefore drew off, leaving this
part of the country in the possession of the enemy.
As far as we can tell, the troops of one party or the
other were in Upton eight or nine times during those
miserable four years of civil war. Twice an arch of
the bridge was broken down, and speedily repaired by
good Edward Hall's charity. In the winter of 1643-4
Prince Maurice had his headquarters in Worcester,
and the country round was heavily taxed for the
maintenance of his men. It was in 1644, the year of
the King's victories in the west, and of Prince Rupert's
defeat at Marston Moor, that we get the only entries
in the register concerning the war : —
" Jhon Hasell, slaine by a souldier, was buryed ye
13th of February."
" William Turberville, a souldier, was buryed ye
6th of July."
Some quarrel about quarters or forage may have
caused the death of the one, and some wound in
battle that of the other, probably an Upton man who
came home to die.
Each year more bitterness and hardness were
infused into the strife ; any man who fought in the
* Corbet's " liibliotheca Gloucesteriensis."
THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. 65
ranks might cross swords or exchange pistol shots
with a kinsman or neighbour ; and poor wives and
mothers at home, hearing of the death of their nearest
and dearest, would often ascribe their slaughter to
some former friend who had fought on the opposite
side. We have no evidence that any Upton troop
formed part of the Pioyal army ; there was a Longdon
troop, commanded by Captain Dowdeswell, which in-
cluded many volunteers from the neighbouring
villages; and there may have been another under Mr.
Jeffreys or Mr. Hornyold, to which our Eoyalist
yeomen attached themselves. It seems very likely
that in the army of the Parliament there was an
Upton troop, consisting chiefly of men equipped by
such of our gentry as were favourable to the cause,
and that it was under the command of Captain
Bound.
It was a relief to the whole nation when, soon
after the battle of Naseby, the civil war came to an
end, and there was a respite from battles and sieges,
although not from oppressions and strife. The grip
of the Parliament on the Church grew tighter and
tighter : the use of the Liturgy was forbidden in the
summer of 1646, and an ordinance was passed en-
forcing on all the clergy the signature of that
Covenant which was to bring the Church of England
into conformity with the use of the Presbyterian
Church of Scotland. Many hundreds of clergy had
been deprived of their benefices long before this
time for some slight breach of the ordinances. There
was considerable diversity as regards both opinions
and fortune in this immediate neighbourhood ; the
Puritan element was predominant in Longdon, the
parish which, forming part of our southern boundary,
includes the large tract of cultivated land still called
the Marsh, and formerly a wide swamp haunted by
the sea-birds. It was a well-to-do parish, with its
F
66 THE NATION IN THE PAKISH.
seven gentlemen, who were of sufficient fortune to be
summoned to receive knighthood in 1630 ; none of
these were on the Boyalist side, as far as we know;
for the Longdon troop had to seek its commander in
Bushier : but Mr. Cooke, the brother-in-law of Cap-
tain Bound, seems to have been a faithful Churchman.
The vicar, Mr. Kacster, and his wife, died within
four weeks of each other in 1642, happy in being
taken away together from the evil days that were
coming ; his successor, Mr. Abrall, was only able to
remain at his post a short time.
Upton and Hanley have always been closely allied,
owning the same feudal lord for many centuries, and
sharing the like alternation of fortune under the
Plantagenets and Tudors. So, likewise, at this period
there appears to have been much the same restrain-
ing influence exercised by the Lechmeres of Hanley
as by the Bromleys of Upton over the more fanatical
parishioners, and both Mr. "Woodforde and Mr.
Wheeler were men who knew how to yield. The
latter was not removed until the summer of 1616; he
appears then to have taken his register books away
with him, for the new incumbent enters a remark
that he is unable to find any of an earlier date.
Mr. Salway, the Rector of Severn Stoke, had to
leave that pretty village and fine old church in 1642.
His successor, Mr. Wybrough, stirred up more ani-
mosity than any other Puritan divine of the neigh-
bourhood, and was shot at while preaching by Mr.
Somers, father of the Lord Chancellor..
The silvery bells of Ripple were answered back by
the stronger peals of Upton across the waters of the
Severn before the music of both was silenceil by the
Parliamentary edict; and parishioners of Ripple,
living about the region of Holly Green, probably came
to the nearer church at Upton for service and cate-
• •hi/.ii
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 67
Archdeacon Hodges was rector of Ripple. " A faith-
ful man," * and one who believed he was doing his duty
in signing the Covenant and giving up the use of the
Liturgy. It is likely that he repeated many of the
prayers and thanksgivings from memory, and rever-
ently administered the Holy Communion to men and
women who sat with bent heads and folded hands
around the Holy Table. Mr. Woodforde remained
at his work a few months longer than the vicar of
Hanley ; his last entry for thirteen years is as follows :
" Thos. Warner, baptized and buryed the 10th of
January.". (1646-7.)
There is a peculiar pathos in the contrasted lots of
the little creature taken away, with the dew of baptism
still fresh on his brow, and the veteran soldier of the
Church compelled to lay down his arms after long and
disheartening conflict. When a benefice was seques-
trated by the decree of Parliament, a successor was
chosen by the parishioners, subject to the. approval of
head-quarters. Mr. Bromley and the moderate party
were in the majority in Upton, and they appointed as
their new rector Mr. Warrene, who was probably Mr.
Woodforde's nephew, and who was certainly like-
minded with him in most respects, although he had
signed the Covenant. He kept the registers in the
same form, and with as much neatness, as Mr. Wood-
forde, who continued to reside in the Rectory with
him.
Long before this the opponents of the King had
divided themselves into two great parties — the Pres-
byterians and the Independents. The former included
in their ranks many who were Churchmen at heart,
and who only submitted to the ordinances of Parlia-
ment as a matter of political necessity. The Inde-
pendents were gaining strength every day, and num-
# Diocesan History (S.P.C.K.).
68 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
bered in their ranks all those pitiless and prejudiced
fanatics who hated the forms and ceremonies of the
Church, and raised against her their terrible cry,
"Down with it, down with it, even to the ground ! "
We get some indications as to these parties in Upton ;
the Bromleys, Lygons, and Gowers were glad to avail
themselves of the offices of the Church as long as
possible, and so late as July, 1646, Mr. Woodforde
makes the following entry : —
"Eleanor, daughter of Mr. William Lygon, of
Madresfield, was born and baptized on July 23rd, Mr.
William Gower beinge godfather, and Mrs. Mary
Bromley and Mrs. Elizabeth Bromley beinge god-
mothers."
It seems unlikely that a newly-born infant should
have been brought to the church from Ham Court,
but in those troublous times it is probable _ that
sponsors were occasionally allowed in private baptism.*
In general, however, such parents as were well
affected to the Church brought their children to public
baptism, with the due number of godfathers and
godmothers, and among these frequently appear
the names of Lingham, Cotterill, Sandilands, and
Morris. Children born of such families as the
Hacketts or Bounds were not brought to church at all,
but were baptized privately in the name of the Blessed
Trinity without any form of prayer.
Although most of the leading parishioners of Upton
were moderate men, they were beaten in the long run,
as generally happens, by the fanatics. Mr. Warrene
was too much of a Churchman to please the latter,
and a formal complaint was made to a committee of
Parliament that he had been " guilty of scandalous
behaviour." This may have been nothing worse than
taking a walk on a Sunday or singing a ballad, but
* Diocesan History (S.r.C.K.).
THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. 69
his enemies prevailed, and he was ordered to resign
the Rectory in favour of Mr. Ward. This mandate
was dated November, 1647, a month of inexpressible
grief and dismay, both in the nation and parish, and
to Royalists and Presbyterians alike.
After long negotiations it was found impossible to
effect a compromise between the Parliament and the
King. Cromwell, at the head of the army, was deter-
mined to bear down all opposition, and the unhappy
Charles, having in vain attempted to escape in the
first week of November, 1647, was a prisoner at
Carisbrooke.
Upton, over and above its share in the national
trouble, had its own special cause of sorrow. The
swollen waters of the Severn were rushing under the
arches of the newly-repaired bridge, and the November
gales were sweeping off the last russet leaves from the
old oaks around Ham Court, where the good and
gentle lord of the manor was dying. In his will,
dated November 4, 1647, he describes himself as
"being in much sickness of body, but of a sound
mind ; " he makes humble confession of his own
unworthiness and happy trust in the merits of his
Saviour ; he leaves full directions as to the fortunes
and guardianship of his children ; he speaks again and
again of Mary, his beloved wife, and charges his
children, on his " blessing, to be dutiful and obedient
to their mother, and to be directed by her." His last
days must have been saddened by the party strife
which estranged those nearest and dearest to each
other.
His nephew, Mr. Bromley of Holt, was a devoted
Royalist, and in his own home was one whose sym-
pathies were upon the same side. A portrait of his
eldest daughter Anna, taken shortly before her death,
which occurred about two years later than that of her
father, depicts her in the brilliant costume only worn
70 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
by Royalist ladies who did not shrink from avowing
their opinions. The costly satin and gleaming jewels
contrast pathetically with the wan young face, in
which there is not only the foreshadowing of death,
but also the traces of grief and terror. There is
among the documents at Ham Court half a sheet of
paper, on which is penned no formal will, but only a
few lines, called " The words of Anna Bromley," and
expressing the dying girl's last wishes. She bequeathed
to one sister the pearl necklace, to another the sapphire
jewels, both of which appear in her picture, but nearly
everything else was left to Mrs. Bromley, so deeply
beloved and trusted both as wife and mother. Mr.
Bromley was buried on November 21, and we may
hope that Mr. Woodforde was allowed to say some
portion of the funeral service over his grave, although
Mr. Warrene makes the entry in the register.
It was within a few days of Mr. Bromley's depar-
ture that Mr. Woodforde had also to leave Upton, not
through "the grave and gate of death," but driven
out from his old home by the stern decrees of Parlia-
ment. There had been long resistance to the appoint-
ment of Mr. Ward as successor to Mr. Warrene, and
when, towards the end of November, he appeared in
Upton to take possession of the Kectory, there ensued
a struggle very characteristic of the times. If Bounds
and Hacketts backed Mr. Ward, some loyal parish-
ioners must have defended Mr. Woodforde and Mr.
Warrene, for w 7 e are told that Mr. Ward's entrance to
the Rectory was opposed by much force and violence,
so that he had to beat a retreat. As only one side of
this incident is recorded, we cannot tell what injustice
and harshness there may have been to rouse a man
of Mr. Woodforde's character to so unwise and hope-
less a contest. lie had obeyed the law in non-essen-
tial points until he resigned his benefice to Mr.
Warrene, who had done all that was required of the
THE NATION IN THE PAKISH. 71
clergy in signing the Covenant. Their resistance was
of no avail ; on Mr. Ward's report of his grievances,
an order was sent from London that a party of sol-
diers should be despatched from Worcester to put him
in possession of the Rectory, and, placing Mr. Ward
in their midst, with rough usage and rude words they
ejected Mr. Warrene and Mr. Woodforde from their
joint home. The former was young enough to earn a
subsistence, as did many of the clergy, in some
secular business, and he disappears altogether from
our history. With Mr. Woodforde it was otherwise ;
' here had been his home for more than twenty years,
here he had been prosperous and respected, happy in
his work and in his love for his parishioners ; he had
sympathised in the cares and troubles of the elder
people, and the young men and maidens, now grow-
ing up, had been held in his arms at baptism, and
had stood up to say their catechism before him on
Sunday afternoons. We may hope that some of these
former friends gathered round to wish him " God
speed " as he went away, a homeless, ruined man, to
seek shelter in some neighbouring village. Where the
ejected clergy had wives and families, an allowance
was made to them of one-fifth of the annual value of
the living, but nothing seems to have been given to
the unmarried clergy.
We now enter upon a period of utter confusion as
regards parochial records. Mr. Woodforde had made
no difference as to station and fortune in his careful
notices of births, marriages, and deaths, but under
republican rule those events in the lives of the poor
were not recorded at all for six years, and very rarely
for seven years longer. The leading families have a
page or two apiece, and seem to have used the register
much as the fly-leaves of a family Bible. Mr. Ward
was in Upton only for a short time, and he was suc-
ceeded by a man of remarkable ability and of high
72 -THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
character. Benjamin Baxter was the son of a Shrop-
shire clergyman, and was a near kinsman, probably
first cousin, of the great Richard Baxter, of Kidder-
minster. Both were devout, large-hearted men, be-
longing to the Presbyterian, not the Independent,
school of theology, and they seem to have been
endowed with similar gifts of eloquence and attrac-
tiveness. Richard Baxter himself, one of the greatest
preachers of the day, speaks of " never having heard
a sermon from his cousin which was not worthy to be
printed." He was a diligent Biblical student, a good
classical scholar, and skilled in modern languages,
somewhat grave and melancholy, perhaps, but tender
and courteous, and in all respects far above the
average of those ministers who occupied the pulpits
and homes of the sequestrated clergy. Very soon after
he came to Upton his eloquence and goodness won
the heart of a well-born and wealthy maiden, Mar-
garet Gower, the daughter of Mr. William Grower.
Their married life was short, for she died in 1651,
leaving him with one son. He married again four
years later another Margaret, the sister of Luke
Hackett, of Bury-end. It was a lovely home from
which the grave young widower brought his bride, for
Bury-end, then a new and picturesque house, was sur-
rounded by rich meadows and fruitful orchards, and
approached by a narrow winding lane, still much
favoured by young couples on summer evenings.
In 1646 the Royalists fought alone against the rest
of the nation, but when, after a breathing space of
four years, the flames of civil war broke out afresh,
Royalists an I Presbyterians resisted together the rule
of Cromwell and his new republic. In religious
opinions they were as widely apart as ever. The
Presbyterian leaders, whether Scotch or English,
would do nothing towards restoring those forms and
ceremonies of the Church which were so dearly prized
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 73
by the Eoyalists. The army of Charles II. included
a great number of Englishmen of most devoted loyalty
both to Church and King, as well as many fierce
Presbyterians, who were mostly Scotch Lowlanders,
and who hated "prelacy " and the Prayer-book quite
as much as they hated Cromwell.
At first the war was confined to Scotland, but in the
summer of 1651 the army of Charles made a sudden
march over the border. It was hoped that all who
disliked the new Government would gather around
the Eoyal standard as it was borne southwards, but
the hope was vain. Men were so weary of civil strife.
and had suffered so terribly in their families and for-
tunes, that they would not venture again to take up
arms. The muster roll of the Royalists was not much
longer when they reached Chester than when they
entered Cumberland. Colonel Massey commanded
the vanguard, which kept a day's march ahead of the
main army, in order that he, by his discretion and
popularity, might prepare the way for the King. It
was necessary to call a halt for some days at Wor-
cester, for both the men and their shoes were nearly
worn out. It was known that Cromwell was sweeping
down from the north-east, and it seemed therefore
advisable to await his attack at Worcester. Massey,
however, who knew every yard of ground in the
neighbourhood, represented the vital importance of
preventing the advance of the enemy on both sides of
the river. To avert this danger Massey was sent on,
with a detachment of about seven or eight hundred
men, to form a camp at Upton, and to destroy the
bridge.
There were jarring and incongruous elements among
those seemingly compact ranks as they marched into
Upton on August 25th. Some would remember, with
secret mortification, how they had fled panic-stricken
from the fight at Powick, whilst others would smile
74 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
with unspoken triumph as they recognised in the red
hanks of Ryall and the distant hedge-rows the scene
of their victory on Eipple Field. Massey's detach-
ment numbered one or two companies of Highlanders,
whose bonnets and tartans, bagpipes and Gaelic
speech, must have astonished our quiet country folk.
Probably Colonel Masse}' had sent on officials with a
requisition, which would oblige every inhabitant of
the parish between the ages of sixteen and sixty to aid
in making the camp, or, in default, to pay a heavy
fine. The golden sheaves of harvest were ready to be
carried, and the earliest apples and pears were ripe for
gathering ; but old men and boys must lead the horses
and build the ricks, and women and children must fill
their baskets with the ruddy fruit, which would find
eager purchasers among the hungry soldiery. The
camp was in an excellent position on the left-hand
side of the Hanley-road. It was protected on the
south-east b}* the winding of Poole brook, while in
front was the road to Worcester, and the broad waters
of the Severn. The other two sides were defended by
massive entrenchments, of which we still see the
remains in the grassy, tree-crested mound on the
further side of the meadow. Two arches of the bridge
had been broken down on the first arrival of Massey,
and planks were laid across them in the day-time to
enable the country folk to bring in the necessary pro-
visions. The weather was exceedingly hot, and on
the evening of August 27th occurred a terrific thunder-
storm, during which, for about the space of half an
hour, hailstones fell as big as bullets, grievously
interfering with the formation of earthworks and
with harvest labours. Massey took up his quarters
at Severn End, and probably his second in command
was at Poole House, close to the camp.
Every arrangement had been made with military
prudence and sagacity, and Massey felt confident that
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 75
he could defend his camp and the river against any
onslaught ; but, as too often happens, the forethought
of the General was rendered useless by the careless-
ness of his subordinates. In the accounts of what
happened on August 30th, we see that there was much
negligence among the Eoyalist officers ; and this was
taken advantage of by Cromwell's partisans in the
town. On the 29th oi^e of the doors of the old church
was left unlocked, and one of the planks across the
broken arches of the bridge was unremoved. The guard
was probably relieved about eleven or twelve o'clock,
and the silence was broken only by the lapping of the
water against the abutments of the bridge, and the
distant tramp of sentries at their different posts. The
latest lights had been extinguished in the town,
excepting one or two that twinkled close at hand
through the windows of a tavern. Perhaps the host
or some guest strolled out, and suggested how accept-
able and comforting spiced ale or hot cider would be,
and the men, chilled with the damp mist of the river,
not unwillingly left their post. One account states
that they remained on duty until they needed some
breakfast ; but this must be an error. They evidently
spent some hours in the tavern, only coming out now
and then for a look around, and did not know that
within a couple of miles a detachment of the Ironsides
was waiting to advance on their position. Even while
they warmed themselves and sipped their drink by
the fire, some active spy, with bare, swift feet may
have run along the bank of the river. He would slip
into the water, swim across, and reach in a few
minutes some picket near Holly Green, with their
chargers standing motionless beside them. Shortly
afterwards Lambert's detachment would be set in
motion, and advance quietly on the road-side grass
until close to Upton. It was between 4 and 5 a.m.,
and the first faint light of the coming day was flushing
76 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
the dark sky behind Bredon. All was silent in the
town. Some spy, hiding, perhaps, in one of the
recesses of the bridge, would give the signal that it
was still unwatched. A forlorn hope of eighteen men
dismounted and came rapidly up, but it was too
hazardous to attempt to walk on the long thin plank,
with the Severn running twenty feet below. They
therefore, to quote a historian,* " mounted it, as
though it were their wooden Pegasus, and so scrambled
across to the opposite side." The last man was
hardly over when the guard took the alarm and rushed
out of the tavern, but only in time to see the enemy
running up the bank to the church, which instantly
became their fortress, as they bolted the doors within
and fired from the windows. The careless guard
seems then to have shown the greatest courage,
charging up to the church, and endeavouring in vain
to repair by bravery the damage done by negligence.
What a morning that was for Upton ! The sound of
rapid musket-shots from the church awoke every
sleeper. Those who lived in the houses near the
water saw, in the brightening dawn, hundreds of
troopers riding into the river at the shallow ford
opposite to Fisher-row. As they reached the near
bank, they formed into military order, and came
rapidly up Dunn's-lane. Friends in the town had
already re-laid the other planks on the bridge, and
some soldiers were crossing that way to the support
of their comrades, not, however, unopposed. The
first sound of battle had roused the camp. The
Royalists had hastily equipped themselves, and
hurried to meet the enemy. Already, however, the
serried ranks of the Ironsides had drawn up on the
banks of the river to the north of the church, and
reinforcements were pouring in across the bridge and
* Whitelock.
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THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 77
ford. In Church-street the startled inhabitants looked
down on those streams of armed men meeting beneath
their windows, and there struggling in deadly conflict.
Massey was upon the spot in an incredibly short
time. He charged into the midst of the affray,
followed by numbers of desperate men. In the church-
yard, as well as outside the walls, the fight raged
fiercely. The magnificent discipline of Cromwell's
soldiers, the suddenness of their advance, and, their
possession of the church and the bridge gave them
the victory. The Royalists were soon thrown into utter
confusion, and beaten back to their camp, the fortifica-
tions of which had only been completed a day or two
before ; but they did not hold it an hour longer, and
each horseman took a foot soldier behind him and
escaped to Worcester, leaving camp and baggage in
possession of their enemies. Colonel Masse}' was so
severely wounded in the thigh that he could only
ride to Worcester upheld by two of his friends. He
was in deep depression at the loss of Upton, saying
he " wished his Majesty was well out of the country,
for his position at Worcester was a very unsafe one ; "
a prediction which was fully verified on September
3rd. The sun could not have risen high before the
fight was over, and those living in the country would
only arrive in time to see the retreating troops pass
out of sight, and to find the town in possession of
Cromwell's soldiers. There was a ghastly sight in the
churchyard and adjoining street, where the battle had
raged most fiercely, and where eight or nine men and
several horses now lay dead or dying. Great was the
dismay among those who favoured the cause of the
King, and equally great the satisfaction of Mr.
Hackett, the Bounds, and the rest of their party.
That day was not to end without further excitement.
In the evening the Lord Protector came from his
quarters in the neighbourhood to praise the soldiers
78 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
for their success, arid see that all was secure and
well ordered. "As he passed from one guard or
regiment to another, he was received," says White-
lock, "with abundance of joy and extraordinary
shouting," for his Ironsides loved him with all the
power of their strong, rough natures, and cared more
for his rarely-given words of praise than for any
applause which they won from the nation. Those
shouts told the townspeople who was come among
them. To the Royalists he was a sacrilegious
murderer and usurper; to the Independents, as a
body, he was a heaven-sent leader; to both he was
the most powerful man in England. Doubtless, every-
one strove to have a look at him, and watched him
ride by with uttered blessings or unspoken curses.
Only one tradition of this day has come down to us.
In a family which is descended from that of Mr.
Morris, a picture is preserved of an old lady, herself
a Morris, who was extremely beautiful in her girlhood.
On this August afternoon she was standing at some
door or window to see the Lord Protector ride by, and
so lovely was she that even the stern Oliver was
impressed by her charms, and, reining up his horse,
paused to inquire her name. It is also stated that
some relation of her's was likely to suffer for his
attachment to the Royal cause, and that she obtained
his pardon from Cromwell. It is just possible that
the " Thomas Morris, alias "Woodward, chirurgeon,"
who made a fortune in India, and left some of it to
the charity which bears his name, may have been
this young man. Great numbers of Royalists were
exiled to North America after the battle of Worcester,
and a ship-load of them may have been sent to the
other side of the globe.
We know very little of Upton history during the
time of the Protectorate. Mr. Bromley was as much
disinclined to public life as his father had been, and
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 79
the only mention of him in county affairs is in 1652,
when he was nominated as one of the Commissioners
to investigate charges of scandalous or neglige ut
conduct among the clergy appointed by Parliament.
Mr. Bromley is described some years later by his
friend and near neighbour, Sir Nicholas Lechmere,
as " a very worthy and excellent person, of singular
virtue and of rare endowments of nature." Mrs.
Bromley was a daughter of Mr. Godsawe, a Serjeant 3
at-law ; she was a kind and home-loving woman,
and we find one or two touching entries concerning
the loss of little children on the fly-leaves of the
family Bible, and also in another book some prayers
and notes of sermons, which are probably in the
writing of either husband or wife. Mr. Bromley's
brother Thomas is better known to us than the rest of
his family, from his having been the author of a de-
votional book, of which a few copies are still extant.
"The Way to the Sabbath of Best" was a popular
devotional work when it came out in 1670, and a
second edition, published in 1710, gives some account
of his life : " Mr. Thomas Bromley was born at
Upton of an ancient and honourable family ; he was
religiously brought up, and after he had gone through
the learning of the schools, he became a member of
All Souls' College, Oxford."
Here, to quote the memoir, " God was pleased
to reveal His Son to him ; . . . and henceforth he
wholly dedicated himself to the service of God, and
parting with all, became a minister of the Gospel,
not of the letter, but of the spirit." We have no
explanation as to how he "gave up all," or where he
"took up the ministry." In his old age he was re-
siding in Upton, and it seems likely that he devoted
himself to spiritual work in his native parish, making
his home with his mother and sisters. " Madam
Bromley " was dangerously ill in 1652, and then
80 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
«
wrote a parting letter to her eldest son, of which we
subjoin a part below, as it gives us some idea of the
family circumstances and character.
It is difficult to over-rate the influence for good
which was exercised by the men and women of the
Bromley family, in the times of strife and hatred,
over the people of Upton ; perhaps no one of them
all was such a power for good as Madam Bromley,
and it was a parochial loss when she died in the
autumn of 1658, a few days before the soul of the
mighty Oliver passed away.
A few days after her remains were laid to rest
beside her husband, Upton was roused to jubilant
excitement in honour of the proclamation of Richard
Cromwell. Minute instructions were given as to
the due order of " processions, music, and shout-
ing," and each town was to provide casks of claret
and canary to be tapped at the Cross, and each
man to be given " a certain measure of wine and a
biscuit."
March 8, 1G52.
Sonne,
I many times finde greate alterations in my flesh, soe
that I have just cause to believe that the time of my disso-
lution drawes neare. ... I know not whether it may please
the Lord to give me time att my end to dispose of things as I
desire ; Therefore I have briefly sett down under my owne
hand what my Willis; My deare husband left me halfe the
chattells, yoxir sister Anna by her will and deede left me her
two partes of the Lease yr Father left to her and yr sister
Elizabeth, of which I shall leave the greatest part to you and
yrs in full confidence of your care of yr sisters when I am
gone, and faithful performance of these my last desires.
My Will is you should add to the 401) pounds which your
father left to your sister Elizabeth 100 pounds to make itt five,
and to pay her after my death 30 pounds a year while you hold
the money ; if she should have occasion to call it in, I desire
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 81
she may have it, giving one year's warning, if neither of these
be performed, then I leave one third of the lease that is in my
power added to the third part left to your sister by yr Father.
Out of the other third part I leave to your sister Mary five
pounds a year during her life. The remainder of that third
part I leave to my grandchild, Mary Bromley.
What gould I have I leave to Betty.
Mary Bromley.
G
1
CHAPTER V.
FROM THE RESTORATION TO THE REVOLUTION".
The memorable year 1660 was preceded by one in
which no one seemed to think it worth while to notice
parochial events. The country was weary of the iron
rule of the Puritans, and all classes joyfully combined
in order that the King should enjoy his own again.
Early in May Mr. Lygon died, and the relations who
had mourned at his funeral had to lay aside their sable
garments, and join the gay throng of those who made
the air resound with their shouts and cheers. Mr.
Bromley was one of the first gentlemen who hastened
to London to make " profession of contrition " for past
failures in loyalty, and to take an oath of allegiance
for the future. His pardon, dated June, 1660. is at
Ham Court, and is interesting as a local record of
national history. Never before or since has England
passed through such a marvellous transformation as in
that early summer-time. The merry-making of the 20th
of May, which took the place of the wake or festival of
the patron saint, still keeps up, in many of tlie Worces-
tershire parishes, the memory of that Restoration time
when the diversions, which had been forbidden for
twenty years, were revived with extravagant delight.
1 hill-baiting, cock-fighting, and dancing round the may-
pole were indulged in without restraint. All that was
grave and decorous was scouted as puritanical, and pre-
cise speech and sober attire were as unpopular as lively
talk and gay colours had been during Oliver's rule. In
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 83
some parishes the Presbyterian clergy retained their
benefices for a couple of years ; this was the case with
Mr. "Warwyke, of Hanley, who, in the spring of 1661,
made his last entry followed by the comment, "Hie exit
J. W." Mr. Baxter made no difficulty in giving way
to Mr. Woodforde, although he was in very bad health,
and leaving Upton meant poverty and hardship. His
son by Margaret Gower had some property indepen-
dently of his father, who would have been almost
destitute but for the unwearied kindness of Lad} r
Lechmere. He lived for a time in a house near Upton,
belonging to Sir Nicholas, and supposed to be Little
Mill. In six weeks after the Restoration Mr. Wood-
forde was at home again ; and with what exquisite
pleasure must he have taken possession of the old
Rectory, and officiated once more in the dearly-loved
services of the Church ! But the iov must have been
clouded by many a disappointment. He was an old
man now, worn out by grief and poverty, as well as by
advanced age ; but he kept up his old careful ways,
and, although his hand was shaky and feeble, he made
the entries in the register book as fully and neatly as
when he came to Upton' a vigorous young rector
thirty years before. His order-loving mind must have
been sorely vexed by the irregular paragraphs, and
the blots and smears made by untidy fingers in the
book which he had kept so religiously ; and there were
deeper troubles to mar his thankfulness. His restored
church had been severely handled in the war time,
and all the fittings, designed for the Anglican Liturgy,
had been altered and modified to suit Puritan services.
Probably after the first fervour of the Restoration was
over, it was to a scanty congregation only that Mr.
Woodforde ministered. The greater part of the people
had grown up estranged from the Church, and were
unused to its services. They had been accustomed to
the eloquent prayers and sermons of Mr. Baxter, and
84 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
they wearied of the " hook prayers " and solemn cere-
monies which were endeared to them hy no charm of
association.
Whatever the pains and pleasures of being at home
again might be, they were soon over. With feehle
fingers Mr. Woodforde made his latest entry of a burial
on January 1, 1(563, and six weeks afterwards there is
this record, "Mr. William Woodforde, buried 15th of
February."
His successor was a man of a very different type,
and was, apparently, appointed rector as a compensa-
tion for having been heavily fined under the Common-
wealth. His father was organist of the Chapel Royal,
and afterwards of Worcester Cathedral ; and Nathaniel
Tomkyns himself was a celebrated musician, of whom
it was quaintly said that " he could play far better on
an organ than on a text."* He was appointed minor
canon of Worcester in 1629, and rector of St.
Nicholas in 1636. He was an elderly man at the
time of the Restoration, when he was speedily ap-
pointed to the rectories of Hartlebury and Upton. He
does not seem to have visited this parish to play either
on a text or on an organ, nor is there any trace of his
having taken any interest in vjarochial affairs. Not-
withstanding the stringent provisions of the Act of
Uniformity, Dissent grew 7 and flourished in this time
of clerical neglect, and two Nonconformist congrega-
tions were formed in Upton.
The registers are kept by various hands, sometimes
carelessly, hut for two or three years with great pre-
cision. Unhappily, portions of the pages for 1665-67 a r<
torn out, and this is the more to be regretted because
in the parts still remaining there is an extraordinary
number of burials; The Diary of Judge Lechmere
• '■'■'■ Nathaniel Tomkyns is introduced as one of the characters in
the latter part of " John Inglesant."
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 85
records the great mortality from the plague in
London, and he mentions that " Upton was also
infected, the plague beginning in the house of Mr.
Philip Surman, where many of his family died, and
in divers other houses."
A new register-book was bought in 1672 by
" Samuel Lynton, curatt, Philip Surman, gent., and
George Pitt, churchwardens." A few entries were
made from the previous year, and Mr. Lynton, so
long as he remained in Upton, kept the registers with
as much precision, but not with as much impartiality,
as Mr. Woodforde. The names of sponsors are
recorded only when the children were of gentle birth
or good position. We get, however, some interesting
names in this way. Mr. Hackett was family lawyer to
the neighbourhood, and more than once members of
the Dowdeswell family appear as srjonsors for his
children. The estrangement between different branches
of the Bromley family, caused by opposite politics
during the Civil Wars, was ended by the Eestoration,
and Mr. and Mrs. Bromley of Holt are "witnesses"
to Mercy, daughter of Mr. Bromley, of Ham Court,
in 11564. Some interesting facts are mentioned in the
register of burials. In March, 1675-76, Elizabeth, the
little daughter of Mr. Bromley Hill, and Anne Trigg,
probably her nurse, were both drowned. The child
may have been trying to gather some of the primroses
that cluster round the large pool at Greenfields, when
she slipped into the deep water, and she and the elder
girl perished together. There is a memorial stone
to this little maiden in the old church, with a long
inscription, which ends with the words from Wisdom
iv. 11 :— '
" God hasted to take her away from among ye
wicked, lest ye wickedness should alter her under-
standing or deceit beguile her soul."
Four years later there is the mention of a darker
86 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
tragedy, when " William, the son of Mr. Richard
Dunn, the lawyer, laid violent hands upon himself,
but by coroner's inquest being found non compos
mentis, on ye 23rd he was permitted Christian burial."
Three of the elder generation of the Bromley s
died about this time, and their wills contain particu-
lars as to their possessions and relations. The
sapphire jewel and pearl necklace which were pic-
tured on the fair throat of Anna Bromley, and
bequeathed to her sisters, are left by them to
different nieces, and appear over and over again in
family bequests. Amongst other things mentioned in
these wills may be noted the following articles : —
" Imbrothered counterpane ; a wroght rod and all
that belongs to it ; ' "a silver poringer and spoon ; "
" great chest of drawers, little walnut table, cheney
on my table, stool of my own work, a tea kettie, old,
chokolatt-pot, copper;" "a 22s. piece of gold;"
" cornelian knife and fork," &c, &c.
To encourage the English wool trade, which was
greatly declining, an Act of Parliament was passed
which enjoined that no corpse should be interred
except in a woollen shroud, and that the minister
should receive a certificate to that effect. Mr. Lynton's
first entry under this Act is in August, 1678, and cer-
tificates are mentioned for two or three years later.
Mr. Lynton was married to a Mrs. Mary Tew while
in Upton, and he did not leave when the absentee old
rector, Mr. Tomkyns, died in 1681. The next rector,
Mr. Francis Phipps, was son-in-law to the Bishop of
Worcester, and, although he had other preferment, he
resided in Upton during the two remaining years of
his life. Mr. Lynton left on the coming of Mr. Henry
Pantinge, the next rector. There is an amusing trace
of some antagonism between these two men. Mr.
Lynton, whenever he signed his name in the register,
added the title of " minister ": but this is crossed out
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 87
by Mr. Pantinge, and "curatt" substituted. Mr.
Pantinge bad been appointed a minor canon of tbe
Cathedral in 1660, and also held a benefice in Wor-
cester. When he was collated to the rectory of
Upton he was requested to resign his minor canonry ;
but he objected to this, and appealed to the King, who
made a requisition to the Chapter that Mr. Pantinge,
on account of his great loyalty and suffering in the
Eoyal cause, should be allowed to hold the minor
canonry as well as the two benefices. Fortunately,
the Chapter was relieved from further unpleasantness
by a second letter from the King, revoking his previous
one, as he had been " since fully informed of the true
state of the matter."
From 168*2 to 1834 we have three parish books,
which are invaluable for the light they throw on the
manners and customs of England during this period.
In another chapter the information thus obtained will
be given under different headings, and we will now
refer only to the earlier pages of the first book. Mr.
Phipps heads the signatures at .the first parish meet-
ing recorded, and it is interesting to notice the diverse
handwriting in the recurring lists of influential
parishioners. There is the easy, flowing penmanship
of scholarly gentlemen, and the neat, compact signa-
tures of the leading tradesmen, accustomed to volu-
minous entries in their narrow ledgers ; whilst other
names bring a vivid picture of sturdy fingers taking a
firm grip of the unfamiliar pen, and with much toil
and anxiety inscribing their signatures. We find in
the pages records of the varying prices of bread, meat,
and other provisions ; and the charges made by car-
penters, masons, and thatchers. It is easy to picture
to ourselves the boys and girls of each generation by
the details given of the attire of the parish apprentices.
There is the little lad going to his first place in his
long "cote," with "horn buttons" and "leathern
88 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
pokitts," bis "waskote of skynnes," his "cordrouy
britches," " knitted hose," " a cloth cap," " and stout
pair of shous." The clothing of the girls is still more
minutely described. We see " Tomson's wenche," or
" Niblett's gurle," in " linsey skirt," " lining apearn,"
low cut " boddice," and "neck hanckchief," her hair
tucked away under the white " quaife," ornamented
occasionally with a row of "filleting." The young people
seem to have had a very small supply of underclothing,
two shirts or shifts being the usual outfit ; but these
were made of stout " lining " or " hempen cloth," at
Is. 5d. a yard, and the clothing of all kinds was strong
and durable. It is curious to notice that while some
families kept about the same level either of prosperity
or poverty, others had such varying fortunes that the
substantial ratepayer of one generation has, in another,
a child or grandchild clothed and fed by the parish.
Among these may be mentioned the daughter of
Samuel Baxter, and granddaughter of the accom-
plished and devout Benjamin Baxter. The family must
have fallen very low in the world for this little girl to
receive clothing, and to be at last buried in the little
woollen shroud and cheap coffin provided by the
parish.
The entries in the earliest parish books are, of
course, chiefly about local business and interests, but
now and then we come upon a sentence which tells us
how some excitement in the nation was vibrating in
the parish. When the south-western counties were
undergoing the miseries which followed Monmouth's
rebellion, a boat full of soldiers was seen descending
the Severn from Worcester to Gloucester. The army
was exceedingly unpopular for two reasons, one being
its share in the cruelties of the West, and the other the
national alarm at the increase of the standing army from
10,000 to 20,000 men. The Upton men standing on the
bridge were roused to fury at the sight of the hated red-
THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. 89
coats, and proceeded to pelt and insult them as the boat
made its way under one of the arches. One soldier was
wounded, and the commandant sent an intimation from
Gloucester which much alarmed the parish ; the men
concerned in the affray, as well as their fellow-towns-
men, began to fear that they should be visited with
some such vengeance as had fallen on the opponents
of James that summer. The parish book tells us how
three of the officials were sent as ambassadors " to one
Captain Witcherley concerning the abuse put upon his
souldiers by our towne ; " and it goes on to say that ten
shillings were given to the wounded soldier '"to pre-
vent future trouble." Other entries of political signi-
ficance are the payment of "chimney money," the
unpopular tax laid by Charles II. on every fireside,
and the mention of a Royal Ayde Book, probably a
register of the tax levied for the King's personal expen-
diture. Early in the following reign a payment of
Is. 6d. is noted for a warrant against Mr. Hackett
" for harbuering travellers," perhaps some persons
suspected of dangerous political opinions. On another
occasion the parish pays Is. to take " Mordecai Hud-
son's mother-in-law out of prison." The Hudsons
have been Nonconformists during the two hundred
years of their abode in Upton, and this individual,
whose identity seems to have been merged in that of
her son-in-law, may have been imprisoned for attend-
ing some illegal place of worship.
We have enjoyed the advantage of having the parish
books of Severn Stoke carefully searched, with the
result of obtaining much curious information which
often supplements that derived from our own books.
The following entries, with their marginal notes, are
in the writing of Dr. Ralph Taylor, the rector : —
" Risum teneatis amici. 1688. Given the Ringers
July 1st being the day of thanksgiving for ye birth of
ye Prince of Wales, 2s. 6d."
90 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
" Laus Deo in excelsis. Given ye Ringers July 2nd
being ye day ye news came of ye Deliverance of ye
Bishops out of ye Tower, 2s. 6d."
" Malum omen. November 2nd for mending of ye
King's arms in ye Church, 6s. Od."
' Fausta dies. November 5th Given to ye Ringers
then, 5s. Od."
In 1688 there were many in Upton who had been
grown men and women when the Civil War broke out
forty- six years earlier. To these, who remembered
that awful period of national strife, there was some-
thing marvellous in the ease with which the kingdom
changed its rulers in the great Revolution. Yet it
brought disunion among neighbours and suffering
for conscience sake, and, although the Non-juring
party in the Church was but a small one, it numbered
some of the wisest and holiest of English Churchmen.
Such were Archbishop Sancroft and Bishop Ken, and
such also were the Bishop and the Dean of Worcester.
Dr. Thomas and Dr. Hicks were alike learned and
excellent men, who had received bitter affronts and
injuries at the hands of James, but who could not
bring themselves to acknowledge another king. Their
example was followed by only fourteen of the parochial
clergy in Worcestershire, and four of these were
connected with Upton or its immediate neighbour-
hood. The extracts given above express Dr. Taylor's
feelings as regards James, and it was all the harder
for him to resign his benefice in loyalty to a sovereign
whom he neither loved nor honoured. Mr. Pantinge
had clung tenaciously to Church preferment seven
years earlier, but now, in advanced life, he resigned
both St. Martin's, Worcester, and Upton, rather than
take th< new oath of allegiance. Mr. Beynon had
been curate in charge of Upton for some time, and was
diligent and careful ; he was of the same mind as his
rector with regard to the oath, but went away from
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 91
Upton very unwillingly. A published letter of Mr.
Richard Dowdeswell's gives some account of an expe-
dition, undertaken in the summer of 1690, by the order
of Lord Shrewsbury, the object of which was to gauge
the political opinions of this part of the country, by
requiring certain laymen and clergy to take the oath
of allegiance. Mr. Thomas Bromley accompanied
the expedition as commander of a troop of horse ; to
one of his religious views the creed of both James and
his Queen and the profligate tone of society were alike
hateful. Although in his sixty-second year and in bad
health, he girded on sword and pistols, and rode from
manor to parsonage, and from town to village, to
assist in checking an expected Jacobite rising. iSome
gentlemen, who accompanied their refusal with violent
and disrespectful remarks on William and Mary, were
committed to various prisons; Mr. Beynon was one
who thus offended, and he was sent to Worcester gaol.
Of our most celebrated Non-juror, Thomas Morris,
better known as " Miserrimus," a fuller account will
be given in another chapter.
The proportion of laity who were avowed Jacobites
in Worcestershire was even smaller than that of
clergy ; among them was Mr. Gower, of Queenhill,
high sheriff for the year 1690. He was deprived of
his office on refusing to take the oaths, and suffered
severely in the matter of fines. His brother, Mr.
George Gower, continued to reside at his house on
the edge of the Heath, until his death from small-pox
in 1695. The remainder of the gentry around Upton
belonged, so far as we know, to the anti- Jacobite
faction.
On a fly-leaf of our register-book there is an entry
to the effect that Mr. Pantinge died in 1692, having
only survived his deprivation two years. In another
place it is noted that on "July 29th, 1690, Mr.
Kichard Smith was inducted rector of Upton-upon-
92 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Seavern." Mr. Smith bad been Prebendary of Bris-
tol, and he was of some note as a preacher. In 1711,
the Bishop of Worcester, being displeased with the
appointment of a preacher at the assizes by the high
sheriff, ordered that, in future, " no other clergyman
be permitted to occupy the cathedral pulpit at assize
time than Mr. Richard Smith, the rector of Upton."
He was rector of Sedgeberrow as well as of this
parish, but he seems to have constantly resided here,
and to have taken an unflagging interest in all that
concerned the spiritual and moral welfare of his
people. He was before his age in many respects, and
took great pains with the education of the poor, regu-
lated the administration of charities, and endeavoured
to bring a more orderly and healthy tone into the
general state of parish affairs. On one occasion
during his incumbency Upton anticipated agricultural
shows, by giving " John Cuttler the sum of five shil-
lings as a reward for his good husbandry." Mr. Smith
built the oldest part of the present rectory about 170'2,
but whether on the site of a more ancient building or
not it is impossible to say. He also presented " a
large flaggon, containing at least two quarts, and a
handsome chalice with a cover," to be used in the
administration of the Holy Communion in the parish
church. He and his wife bequeathed sums of money
for the education of poor girls. The twenty- seven
years of his residence in Upton were saddened by
many troubles : two little children were taken away
soon after he came, and many years later he lost his
only son, a youth of two-and-twenty, "of distinguished
character, attainments, and beauty," as his sorrowing
parents described him .on. his tombstone. Only one
daughter was now left to them; and she had been
married some years to the Rev. Andrew Johnson, who
perhaps was the author of the epitaphs on both his
wife's parents ; in any case, they are remarkable for
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 93
their scholarship and pathos. Mr. Smith died in
1717, and his widow, after three years of loneliness,
was laid to rest beside the dearly-loved husband and
children.
The family party of the Bromleys had undergone
great changes during the last few years of the seven-
teenth century. Mr. Henry Bromley, the third who
bore that honoured name, had married Elizabeth
Lynch, the heiress of Doverdale ; of their six children,
three sons and one daughter died in early infancy,
and William, the little heir, was but a year old when
his father died, in 1685. His great-uncle, Thomas,
lived six years longer, and died on Easter Monday,
1691. Among his last words were the following : " I
have peace of conscience, I have lived un to my light,
and loved God above all things." At his death the
young squire was left to the sole guardianship of his
mother, who, having been ten years a widow, married
Dr. Thurstan, a Worcester physician, and turned over
to him all responsibilities and rights connected with
the manor.
It is his name alone that appears as ratepayer from
the time of his marriage until the death of his wife in
1700, after which William Bromley, Esq., although only
fifteen, takes his proper place as lord of the manor.
If Madame Thurstan was the original of a very un-
pleasing portrait at Ham Court, she could hardly
have been an amiable or gracious person ; and family
quarrels may have had some share in bringing about
the strange marriage of her sister-in-law, Mary Brom-
ley, to James Withenbury or Winbury. The elder
sister, Dorothy, had become the wife of Mr. Witcher-
ley, a Shropshire rector, and died a year later. Mary
was left alone until she was nearly fifty, when this
descendant of Bromleys, Lygons, and Braceys wedded
an Upton tradesman. The Winbury family had
been mercers in the town for nearly a hundred
94 THE NATION IX THE PARISH.
years, and were greatly respected ; and perhaps
the elderly bride found a happier home in the
tradesman's parlour than in the stately chambers of
the manor-house. But she did not live long for either
happiness or disappointment, as she, like her sister,
died a twelvemonth after her marriage. Madam
Thurstan's own daughter, Mercy, made a more
suitable alliance in marrying Colonel Harnage,
one of an ancient Shropshire family. There were
fewer of the county families living in the parish
at the end than at the beginning of the century, but
some of that class were still remaining. Colonel
Xanfan, one of the celebrated family of Birtsmorton
Court, was living with his daughter Mary at Tiltridge,
on the edge of the Hook district. It must have been
a charming spot in those days, embowered among
trees, many of them survivors of the giants of the
Chase, and approached by steep lanes, whose high
banks were overshadowed by fruit-trees, their pink and
white blossoms making the hill-side beautiful in the
spring-time. The black and white house, once the
abode of Captain Bound, now belonged to Mr. Hum-
phrey Soley, from whom came its present name of
Soley's Orchard. South-end was occupied by one of
the Pull Court family, generally styled in the parish
books " Gostis Dowsill." The Hacketts were still at
Bury-end, but they were coming down in the world,
and before long they seemed to have migrated to
Earl's Croome. The Hills, in as good a position as
ever, were at Greenfields, and Dr. Kichard Hill had
married the daughter of Mr. Blandy, a Wiltshire
squire. The armorial bearings of several of this family
are on their tombstones in the old church. Some
" gentle-folk " bearing the names of Towne and Wood-
ward, were living on farms in the country, the latter
at Talvers-end, which is in the neighbourhood of
Longdon Heath.
CHAPTER VI.
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
It is intended to take this period under four heads :
1. Treatment of the poor.
2. Medical customs.
3. Drinking customs.
4. Local history.
We hope to show under each division how certain
incidents and habits illustrate the state of England
in the eighteenth century, and how, as time went on,
certain laws and customs were modified, and others
adopted more in accordance with the spirit of the
age. Some extracts will be given from the parish
books, not only of Upton, but also of Severn Stoke,
and these latter will be marked by the letters S. S.
It should be borne in mind that money was, roughly
speaking, about double its present value in the early
part of the last century : the wages of an agricultural
labourer in this part of the country were from 5s. to
6s. per week, and two daily quarts of beer or cider,
with considerable increase both as to money and
liquor in haymaking and harvest-time. The price of
grain varied greatly in those days of protection;
wheat and barley cost double in some years what they
did in others. We find the price named as varying
from 2s. 2d. to 3s. lOd. per bushel in a very short
time*, and the quartern loaf ranged from 4d. to 8d.
:;: In July, 1884, agricultural wages are from 12s. to 15s. a
week, and the price of corn is from 4s. Id. to 4s. Gd. per bushel.
96 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Prices were much higher at the end of the century,
but then wages had also risen. In Worcestershire
they are mentioned, in 1782, as being from 6s. to 9s.
a week for ordinary labourers, and 10s. and lis. for
carters and shepherds. There was probably always
an increase of wages in hard times, but not in pro-
portion to the cost of bread. At such seasons even
the most sober and industrious labourer had much
difficulty in paying for necessary food and house rent,
and he came without hesitation to the parish when
he needed an outfit for a boy or girl going to service,
or when there was illness in his family. Some men,
but they were very few, struggled on through all diffi-
culties, priding themselves on never having "a ha-
porth off the parish," until they were past work. Such
men, while they were able-bodied, would not even
apply to the overseer for the two shillings given to
any man who asked for it at the birth of a child.
Some families were what may be styled hereditary
paupers; their names appear regularly on the lists
of those receiving relief from 1682 to the present day.
The weekly pay to sick and infirm persons was from
Is. to 2s. 9d., and many had their rents paid for them
into the bargain. In 1700, out of thirty-two receiving
regular relief, thirteen had their cottages rent-free
and obtained a good deal of extra help. Begging was
a thriving trade in those days, not only with tramps,
but also with those among the poor who liked to live
upon alms. The aged goody who tottered up from
her rent-free cottage to receive her parish pay had
but to complain of the cold weather, or of her aches
and pains, to obtain an order for a "draft of coles,"
or two yards of " rlanneling," or some " white bred,"
or a " brest of mutton." Several times attempts were
made to check the increase of pauperism, by insisting
that all who received regular parish pay should wear
a badge with the letter P in red cloth on their sleeves,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 97
or, if seen without it on a week-day, be punished by
reducing their pay. Their Sunday clothes were exempt
from this brand, which must have greatly distressed
the more respectable of the aged poor, although it
could do little to discourage the habitual paupers.
The rate of agricultural wages only applies to a
limited number of the Upton labourers : the greater
proportion of the townsmen were workers on the
water, getting a certain sum for each "job." Early
in the last century there was a great increase in the
river traffic, owing to the development of the Wor-
cestershire salt trade. The barge-men and trow-men
made large sums during the spring and summer
months, and generally spent all before the winter,
flinging themselves then upon the rates or upon
private charity. Great trouble was caused to the
officials, and terrible hardship to the poor, by the law
of settlement. Every child born in a parish was
chargeable to it ever after, unless, by length of resi-
dence or term of service, a settlement had been
effected elsewhere. In consequence of this law our
books have frequent notices of " hors hyor and other
expences," on account of taking to a distant parish
some poor people who had found a home and work in
Upton ; whilst on other occasions the overseers go to
the nearest magistrates, and make sundry journeys
in the endeavour to resist the immigration of some
family from another parish. A baby was a most
unwelcome visitor, as a future burden to the rate-
payers ; and any woman, not being one of the regular
inhabitants, who was likely to become a mother was
unceremoniously hurried away. She might be a mere
tramp, with no home and no character, or she might
be a poor woman travelling from one place to another
in obedience to the Jaw. If she arrived late at night,
footsore and weary, to find the shelter of some poor
lodging, the overseer was generally told by some spy,.
H
98 THE NATION IX THE PARISH.
who thirsted for a quart of ale, the usual reward for
such information. In general a few threatening words
were enough to make the poor creature " move on ; "
but sometimes she was more obstinate, and a bribe of
several shillings had to be given " to persuade her to
go away." More than once, after a woman was
actually taken ill, she was put into a cart with some
straw, and hurried over the boundary into another
parish. We have the history of one case which helps
us to realise something of what poor women suffered
from this law. In July, 1719, a widow, named
Dorothy Jones, was sent from some parish in Shrop-
shire to Upton, as the place of her husband's legal
settlement, immediately after his death. She would
be provided with a pass, which would enable her to
get necessary food on the way, but her journey must
have been mostly on foot, a weary walk for one in her
state in the hot days of summer. She was taken ill
immediately on her arrival, and there was something so
forlorn and pathetic in her case that she was evidently
treated with much kindness. During the nine days
that her travail lasted, more than a pound was expended
in providing her with attendance, and everything that
was needed in the way of comforts and even luxuries ;
for white bread and butter and ale and wine are men-
tioned. All was in vain to recruit the strength that
had been so grievously tried ; the young widow died
when her baby was born, and, wrapped in parish
" muffler and cap," Dorothy Jones, a stranger, was
laid to rest in our churchyard. Her little girl was
put under the charge of a nurse, at a cost of Is. 8d. per
week, and she seems to have been rather a pet with
the officials during her few months of life, as there
are several entries about her clothes, one being : —
" For making a frock for Dorothy Jones' child of
her apron, and putting more to it, 7d."
They were fond of turning dead people's clothes to
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 99
account in those days. On one occasion, when the
register records that " a stranger was drownded," thu
parish book mentions what was paid to the tailor for
making " a cote and two pair of britches of the
clothes of the man that was drownded."
A great deal of time and money was expended in
compelling non-parishioners to fulfil their promise of
marriage to some Upton girl. One man, Joseph
Fluck by name, was fetched from Deerhurst by two
men, watched over in Upton by another man, " for
fear he should run away," taken before the justices
in Worcester, provided with a licence and ring, and
finally married, all at the expense of the parish.
Even then, it was not considered likely that . the
reluctant bridegroom would take his wife away, for
three horses and a man were hired to convey the
newly-wedded couple to their distant home. One of
these compulsory marriages cost the parish of Severn
Stoke £3 19s., and the statement of the expenses
concludes with this sarcastic entry: "Mr. Jackson
and myself with our horses tending on this glorious
wedding, 5s." A young woman, named Bess
Griffin, may be taken as a type of the character
which was bringing frequent trouble and expense on
the parish ; for seme offence not stated she was
taken to Worcester gaol, and detained there a month.
If she were bad when she went into prison, she was
probably much worse when she came away from its
evil companionship and influence. Afterwards she
was constantly giving trouble to the overseers in
some way or other, and was evidently one of those
audacious, immoral, and turbulent women to be found
even in times when much pains have been taken
with the training of girls, as was the case in Bess
Griffin's childhood under good Mr. Richard Smith.
We have an illustration of the management of prisons
in an entry some years later ; the overseer notes two
100 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
payments on behalf, of an Upton man imprisoned in ;
Worcester Bridewell ; one is for refreshments " at
the coffee-house in bridewell," and the other for
"redeeming the man's tools out of bridewell" after
he was released. The Worcester gaol was, according
to Howard and others, in a very dreadful state ; the
prisoners were herded together, without any attempt
at separating the worst criminals from the young
boys and girls who had been sent in for some slight
offence. A separate room could only be had at a
heavy cost, while necessary bedding, and all food but
the coarsest and scantiest, had to be purchased from
the gaoler at his own prices. The wretched prisoners
would often sell or pawn their clothes, tools, or any
other possessions, in order to obtain a sufficient
meal, or a heap of clean straw for their bedding.
It may be observed that part of the parochial expen-
diture was caused by the prevalent immorality and the
stringency of the poor laws, and not by the relief of
the poor and aged. Still, the thriftlessness and lack
of independence among the poor combined with other
causes to make the poor rates an increasingly heavy
burden. In Upton they rose from i'97 10s. in 1682
to £209 in 1729 ; but in the latter year it was a time
of peace and reviving commerce, and the middle
classes were thriving. A few years later, when
England was plunged into continental war, and her
export trade checked, the rate-payers felt the increase
of pauperism to be an intolerable evil. We find
several indications of this feeling in the apologetic
tone of the overseers' entries :
" To ould Brick being a sick family
" To a poor reduced gentlewoman...
" To a poore woman in grate distress
' To a poor man that fell down in the street
" To a distressed object
s.
d.
1
0"
(1
3"
(t
:;-
6"
,3"
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 101
In 1762 occurs an entry which is partly warning
and partly reprimand :
" It is ordered that the overseer doe not relieve any
papor, and if he doe it will not he allowed."
In 1763 a new state of things began with the
erection of a workhouse on the spot still known as
Old Workhouse Yard. Full and minute accounts are
given as to the dietary, clothing, and furnishing of
the house, but the parish books henceforth lose a
great deal of their interest from having no longer
their quaint details about the every-day life of Upton.
An endeavour was made to stop all out-door relief
except to those who were very ill, as was " John
Barnet of ye gout, not being able to get out of his
bed." A few old people still received weekly pay,
but the overseers were directed, as a general rule,
when any persons applied for relief, " to bid them go
into ye workhouse." The Severn Stoke officials were
very severe as to idlers ; in 1702 certain young
women who refused to go to service were taken before
" ye justice," and, we may suppose, were compelled to
find themselves places. At another time the overseer
notes two payments, one to " Will Wadley in his need,
15s.;" the other to " John Horn in his laziness, 9s."
Upton was again before the age in attempting the
labour test, so dear to modern philanthropists. A
plot of ground was rented, and, when any able-
bodied person desired help, he was set to work under
the directions of the master of the workhouse. The
inmates seem to have been well fed, with fresh meat
three times a week, and bread, cheese, and beer for
ordinary meals ; at Christmas " plumbs and shuger "
are provided, and once there is a notice of 3s. being
given " to the poor people by way of encourage-
ment."
Considerable pains were taken with the many
children whose only home was within the workhouse
102 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
walls ; they were to be taught to read and write, to
beat hemp, or to make pins, and bo} r s and girls alike
were to learn knitting, " so that they should be no
more idle." There are some entertaining entries
about parish apprentices, who probably, poor chil-
dren, had but little kindness shown them by their
masters. The great desire of the parish was to be
clear of the burden of their maintenance, as in the
following agreement between the Severn Stoke
officials and " Chrisfer Brookbanks about Thomas
Vernall :" Brookbanks is to have the boy for five
years, without any charge to the parish beyond the
yearly payment of thirty shillings to buy him clothes ;
" but if this boy should run away from him and
receive damig, then to returne the money and the
parish take the boy." One frequent item in the old
indentures is. that the apprentice " shall neither waste
his master's goods nor commit matrimony without
his consent."
As regards the prices of other things beside corn,
we find that through nearly the whole of the century
beef and mutton were from 3d. to 3^d. per lb. ; cheese
and butter from 3d. to 4d., and sugar 6d., while tea
and coffee were luxuries unknown to the poor.
Clothing of all sorts was dear ; for instance, linsey
and flannel were about double their present price,
and boots and shoes were equally expensive.
Medical Customs.
Towards the close of the seventeenth century there
were two medical men in Upton of high position and
character. Dr. Richard Hill was the head of the
family of Hill of Greenfields, and Dr. Evans was a
scholarly gentleman, who had been a great traveller,
and came to end his days in the quiet of Upton.
Their patients were only among well-to-do persons,
for such alone indulged in the luxury of being attended
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 103
by a qualified practitioner ; excepting when a limb
had to be set, or some difficult operation performed,
the poor were treated by old women, or by quack
doctors, who undertook each case at a certain charge.
Bleeding was a favourite remedy for every variety of
ailment, and was performed at the charge of sixpence.
Hannah Niblett, who had a bad leg, was bled three
or four times a month, with the result that shortly
after the last "blooding," a parish meeting was held
to consider how much should be paid to a Mr. Brown
" for cutting off Hannah Niblett her legg." She
survived the operation, and received parish pay and
frequent donations of meat and coals for many years.
Ann Barber had also an expensive leg ; ten shillings
was paid to a doctress for curing it, and afterwards
it required more than once " brandy and turpentine
to bath it." This was a favourite liniment for the
back or limbs ; poulticing seems to have been con-
sidered " skilled labour," and was charged for accord-
ingly :—
(S. S.) " For white bread to make pultise for Parker's
gouty legg at times ... ... ... ... 2s. 8d."
" Wid. Bernard for boyling ye white bread in
milk for Parker's legg ... ... ... 10s. Od."
Goody Shepherd was the " wise woman " of Upton, as
Widow Bernard was of Severn Stoke ; and they under-
took the cure of bad eyes and sores at charges vary-
ing from two shillings to ten, and probably used herbs
and flowers for cheir lotions and medicines. Some of
these ancient prescriptions still linger amongst us.
Hyssop and horehound tea are considered excellent for
coughs ; rue, nettle, and tansy, to be taken fasting,
are supposed to be beneficial in different forms of
dyspepsia ; the juice of celandine and black bryony
removes corns and bruises ; while white lily roots,
elder-flowers, and house-leek, mixed with fresh liquor
or cream, make soothing ointments and lotions.
104 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
About the middle of the century Mr. Aycrigg under-
took the medical treatment of the poor at a charge of
seven pounds, operations and difficult cases being
regarded as extras ; but Mrs. Haines, of Ashchurch,
appears to have been ths female consulting physician
of the neighbourhood, and practised surgery as well
as medicine. About the end of the century, Mr.
Charles Aycrigg received fifteen pounds for inoculat-
ing all parishioners who would submit to the treat-
ment. The parochial authorities showed great wisdom
as to infectious diseases ; on one occasion Thomas
Finch was paid, " for keeping in when he was sick,
16s.;" and, at another time, "a begging bo} r ," who was
found to have the small-pox, was removed from the
town to the house of Widow Bishop in the country.
The poor woman died of the disease, but her little
guest, as well as her son, recovered. It is difficult to
account for the pig being involved in the misfortunes
of the family, as appears in the following extracts : —
"For bringing Widow Bishop's pigg to town at three
times ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 3d.'
" For keeping Widow Bishop's pigg three weeks ... ... 8d.'
Those suffering from small-pox were treated with great
liberality ; one family called Pony received two
pounds twelve shillings and fivepence in less than
three weeks, beside such comforts and luxuries as " a
hop sack, blanketts, candles, soap, and salt butter and
rasons, shuger," and a mixture called "Metheridale,"
possibly intended for " Methridatum," an anti-
dote against infection (Halliwell). Apparently
there was great difficulty in having the corpses of
victims of small-pox decently laid out and interred ;
two or three shillings' worth were frequently given in
food and drink, in addition to the ordinary burial
expenses : and occasionally there was an extra pay-
ment for " pitch to burn before ye door." The first
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 105
mention of small-pox is in 1698, when the death-rate
rose from an average of twenty -three to forty-three,
and in the following year to fifty-eight. During the
last century this horrible disease was in Upton every
ten or twelve years, and the deaths were seventy-seven
in 1727, and ninety-five in 1770. In the neighbour-
hood it was as bad in proportion ; at Severn Stoke, out
of fifteen deaths in one year, seven were from fever or
small-pox. In that village, as in Upton, the disease
seems to have affected certain families every time it
appeared, and this may have been, not so much from
a constitutional liability to the disease, as from their
residing in unwholesome localities. The lower part of
New-street and the alleys near the river have alwa}'S
been favourite haunts of pestilence, and equally have
they been favourite abodes with men and women who
love to occupy the same house in which " grandfather
lived for a matter of forty years," or "next door to
one in which father's grandmother was bred and
bom."
As regards other matters, we find the mention of
" imposthume" (i.e., abscess), " spotted fever " (S.S.),
and " messles " among the complaints, and " going
to the bath," and a " blistrin plaster," among the
remedies. Under the latter head may be mentioned
some medical charms which have come down to us
from remote times, and which have been practised
within the last few years, such as a ring made of
silver, which has been offered at the Holy Communion,
to be worn as a remedy for epilepsy ; and plucking
nine hairs from the centre of the cross on the back of
a donkey, which hairs are then put into a muslin bag,
and hung round the neck of a child suffering from
whooping cough. Another cure for this complaint is
for the child to be taken out of doors on nine successive
mornings, fasting, and never two following days the
same way. This charm must have been devised by
106 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
some one wise beyond his age, who knew that the pure
air of early morning was the best relief for the spasms
of whooping cough. Great faith is placed in rain
water which has fallen on Ascension Day as a cure for
sore eyes, and it is firmly believed that this water does
not become decomposed like ordinary rain water.
We have some light thrown upon the treatment of
lunatics by certain entries concerning Mary Edging,
in 1760. She had apparently been kept under restraint
at home, in a state of dreadful misery and neglect,
until it was decided to send her to Bedlam, at the
expense of the parish. A wagon was hired at the cost
of four pounds four shillings, and she was cleaned and
clothed in preparation for the journey ; two women
were paid for "washing -and striping her," and she
was arrayed in a new " gownde, under gownde, quilted
coot, under coot, stomagher, and cap," as well as
fettered with a new chain and " champs," i.e., fetters
for the feet.
The treatment of Bedlam, with its dark cells and
whips, was not more successful than the cruel restraints
of home, and the poor lunatic was returned as incu-
rable. Two or three further payments are noted on her
account, but, as they soon cease, we may hope that
her miserable life was not further prolonged.
Drinking Customs.
Upton, like most of the water-side towns of the
Midlands, has had an evil reputation in the matter of
drunkenness. That there is some reason for this
opinion is shown by the fact that our town, with a
population of a little over one thousand eight hundred,
has at the present time nineteen public-houses. We
are apt to forget, however, that the drinking habits of
our people are the outcome of the customs of centuries,
and especially of tbe customs of "treating," and
giving drink as part of wages. Even now, when a
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 107
boat is unloaded, the employer gives a certain amount
of money to each man, and also sends him to the
nearest public-house for so much beer or cider. If a
man declines the drink, he gets no extra cash, but one
or two large-minded boat-owners will allow him to ask
for " ginger pop " instead of alcohol. Many a reformed
drunkard relapses either because he does not like to
lose his rights, or because, if he goes to the tavern for
the harmless refreshment, the sight and smell of
liquor, and the jeers of his old companions, are too
much for his resolution.
If we go back in our history, we shall find the
custom of treating prevalent on every occasion of
public or private life. Men were given drink for
ringing the bells or for oiling them, for taking relief
to the sick or for carrying a corpse to the grave ;
women received three pennyworth of bread and cheese
and six pennyworth of beer for sitting up with a sick
person, or for laying out a corpse, in case of death
from small-pox the quantity of liquor being doubled or
trebled. The clergyman who came to baptize a
" parish baby," and the women who were present, were
all treated.
" Spent in treating the Parson Jeffreys for baptizing the
child, Is."
" A quart of ale at Clinton's child Chrisning, 2d."
" Gave to make the women drink at the baptizing of Niblett's
child, Is. 6d."
Parish meetings were great times for drinking, as
two or three of the following extracts will show, but
the practice has not left such visible traces on our
parish documents as on those of Longdon, where a
discoloured circle still shows the size of the big jug
from which the officials took their quart apiece during
the meetings. It should be remembered that in the
last century a total abstainer was a very rare creature ;
unless a man disliked the taste of alcohol, or found
108 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
that it disagreed with him, he took it as a matter of
course. The most religious and the best-conducted
persons saw no more harm in taking alcohol than in
eating bread, and they drank an amount which would
seem excessive in the present time. The most
respected philanthropists and preachers, although
they abhorred drunkenness quite as much as we can
do, used then to take several glasses of wine or ale
daily ; the sober working man had his two quarts of
beer or cider from his master's barrel, and when he
went home he drank his pint of home-brewed with his
supper, before he read his chapter and went to bed.
The same man saw no harm in having a gallon or
five quarts in hay-making or harvest time, nor in
accepting " odd glasses " if sent on a message or
asked to do extra work. As an illustration of the
amount of stimulants used in the houses of persons
of good position and character, we subjoin the bill of
refreshments provided at the funeral of Mrs. Elizabeth
Bromley in 1731 : —
s. d.
10 Bottels of Wine ... 19 6
21 Quarts of Ale 4 6
Bread ... ... ... ... ... ... 1
Butter ... ... 8
Although not quite in the same proportion as the
bread and sack in Falstaff's tavern bill, it will be seen
that the consumption of drinkables is in very much
larger measure than that of eatables.
The practice of "wetting the bargain," as it is
called in Worcestershire, has always been a fruitful
source of temptation and of lavish expenditure, as for
instance : —
" For drink at selling the poor's grass, 10s."
It still seems impossible for Upton men to arrange
a bargain of any kind without adjourning to a public-
house in order to treat each other to some liquor.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 109
. It will be seen in the extracts from the parish books
how often drink was given as a medicine in every
kind of illness. A good many poor women were like
Grace Weaver, who " made complaint of illness," and
was presented with one shilling and sixpence "in
order to provide her drink." No doubt a great
increase of drunkenness was owing to the reaction
against Puritanism which followed the Eestoration ;
but it was held in check, for about half a century, by
the strong religious feeling still .remaining among
those who had been trained by the Puritans, or by
those Churchmen who had held on to their creed
through all the dangers of civil strife. From the
middle of the last century until a recent period,
drinking habits and customs have kept their dominion
over each successive generation of our people ; but of
late years, through the influence of Temperance
societies, and from other causes, there has arisen a
healthier tone of public opinion in the working-class.
The result has been that excessive drinking at club
feasts, treating, and drink payments are gradually
disappearing, while numbers of young people are
growing up to do without stimulants of any kind.
Parochial History.
When the eighteenth century opened, several families
in the parish were residing in the homes which
had been those of their ancestors for one or two
hundred years. The Bronileys, Hills, and Hacketts
were still at Ham Court, Greenfields, and Bury-end ;
and, in a 'different station, the Bound, Winbury, and
Morris families were selling linen-drapery and meat
in the same shops where their great-grandfathers had
served customers. Upton shoes were still made and
mended by a Farley, and bread and flour sold by a
Baskerville ; but the Cotterills and Linghams had
exchanged their country life for shops in the town,
HO THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
one of the former name being also an officer of excise .
By the end of the century nearly every house of
any importance had changed hands', the old families,
with few exceptions, having left the place, or sunk
into a subordinate position.
The old familiar names disappear one by one from
the yearly group of signatures in the parish book.
The Clarkes succeed the Dowdeswells at South-end,
while Bury-end and Greenfields become ordinary farn: -
houses. Mr. Skey. builds a large house and brewery
at the Waterside, and Mr. Sheward erects another
dwelling in Buryfield. Two or three comfortable houses
in High-street and New-street belong to this time,
when the middle class was rapidly obtaining moi e
social and political importance.
In Queen Anne's reign, Upton had some share in
the strife of religious parties which followed on the
removal of penal laws against the Dissenters. A
manuscript journal preserved at Hartlebury gives a
curious account of an episode in the religious history
of Upton. The Anabaptists of this parish had desired
to hold a public conference, or disputation, with the
ministers of the Church, in order to state their reasons
for separating from it. The challenge was accepted
by Mr. Richard Smith, and also by the Bector of
Severn Stoke and the Vicar of Hanley, subject to tin
approval of the Bishop. Permission was freely given,
and the Bishop appointed that the discussion should
be held after a Confirmation, on August 1, 1704, bo
that he might be present himself, and see "that all
should be done with all possible fairness to the Sepa-
ratists, and that they themselves, keeping within the
bounds of a fair discussion, should not suffer for any-
thing they should say." The Nonconformist leaders
were invited to attend as soon as service and sermon
were over, and, if necessary, to continue the discussion
on the following morning.
EFFI
G-Y OP ONE OF THE DE BOTELLER5
=d:' €$
/•-* /(-..i^—^ r*/,-C
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. Ill
One hundred and eighty years have intervened
between that Confirmation and the one held in Upton
this summer ; alike in some points and strangely dif-
ferent in others. There are the same groups of young
people coming in from the villages round, the same
form of prayer and blessing, the same words of pro-
mise spoken, representing in the few an earnest and
abiding purpose, and in the many a solemn but
fleeting impression ; the differences are in outside
things — in dress, in buildings, in manner and ritual.
That service would not be brightened by much in the
way of chanting and singing, but there would probably
be sung, to an accompaniment of stringed instruments,
the grand " Old Hundredth," the festival hymn of
three centuries.
When the newly- confirmed had left the Church
there was a pause of expectation ; the Bishop sat in
his great chair, to his right the tomb of the Crusader,
who had waged war against the Saracen four hundred
years earlier. Bishop Lloyd was himself a hero of
Church history, although he had combated no
infidel, but a Christian king; for he was one of the
seven Bishops who went to the Tower rather than
obey the decrees of James. Unlike Sancroft and Ken,
Bishop Lloyd was an ardent partisan of the Whig or
Government party. The year before this Confirmation,
during a general election, he had used all means, fair
and unfair, to prevent the return of the Tory candi-
date, Sir John Pakington.
In 1704 he was an alert, vigorous old man of
seventy-seven, pleasant and kindly to all but political
opponents. He had shown to the Dissenters of his
diocese an indulgence rare in Churchmen of his day,
but, nevertheless, the Anabaptists of Upton were
afraid to venture on the discussion which they had in
the first instance invited. Perhaps they doubted the
Bishop's fairness, or were afraid to encounter the
112 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
heavy metal of Mr. Smith's learning and eloquenoe.
How long the Prelate sat waiting, while the three
clergymen stood by in cassocks and bands, and the
congregation strained their eyes and ears for the
coming of the Separatists, we cannot tell ; but the MS.
concludes by stating, " No Dissenters appeared to his
Lordship in Upton."
This failure in friendly discussion may have led to
an increase of religious animosity, of which the out-
come was a disturbance, chronicled in a book still
existing at the Baptist Chapel. Mr. Hankin, a
gentleman of fortune, who rented Soley's orchard,
seems to have presided over the Anabaptist congre-
gation at Upton, which met for worship in a large
room in one of the houses in Dunn's-lane. Here they,
were attacked One Sunday by what the record describes
as ''a mob of High Church furies," who endeavoured
to break in the doors and seize Mr. Hankin, - the
object of their special aversion. Fortunately for him,
he was able to escape out of the back of the house,
and thence in a boat down the river. His congrega-
tion, meanwhile, valiantly defended the front, and
with the aid of an iron bar snatched from one of the
assailants, they kept the mob at bay until rescue
arrived. The Anabaptists had formed a congregation
here as early as KiTO, and, as time went on, it included
many of the influential tradesmen of the town, and
among them the Baskervilles, Skeys, and Hudsons.
In the early part of the last century, a large pro-
portion of the clergy were men of earnestness and
Learning, who exercised a considerable influence over
all classes of their people. They did not work accord-
ing to modern lights, as even Mr. Smith presided
at parish meetings held in the Church on Sunday
afternoons; while night schools and Sunday schools
were unthought of. But the clergy made much of
the Catechism, and required it to be said before Con-
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 113
firmation, with an accuracy such as we seldom find
in modern Sunday schools. In later years very little
was done in the way of religious teaching or training,
and education of all kinds was at a low ebb. Between
twenty and thirty girls were taught in the Charity
School, maintained by Mr. and Mrs. Smith's bequest,
and in 1787, an elaborate scheme was made for
educating a certain number of poor boys. The girls
were to be instructed in reading, knitting, and
sewing, and not to begin learning writing until they
were perfect in these three subjects. The boys were
permitted to w T rite from the first ; but arithmetic
was not considered necessary. The master w r as
desired to be " tender " in correcting them, and to
take all possible care to " prevent impiety arid im-
morality."
There was a school kept in Upton by a Mr. Thomas
Pitt, whose weekly fee was sixpence for each pupil,
a large sum for men to pay out of wages amounting
to six or seven shillings a week. Mr. Pitt may have
been as " skilled to rule " as the learned schoolmaster
described in Goldsmith's " Deserted Village," but in
general the masters and dames were exceedingly illi-
terate, making up in severity what they lacked in
knowledge.
Upton had some concern in the religious revival of
the last century. Philip Doddridge was a man who,
by his learned and devotional writings, has exercised
an influence from his own time to the present. He
was married in Upton to Mercy, one of the daughters
of Mr. Morris, and niece, or grand-niece, of the old
Jacobite clergyman. The marriage was, we may
conclude, very distasteful to the Morrises ; no mention
of Mercy's name occurs in any of the family papers,
and it is to be feared that the young couple were seldom
welcomed as guests at the old house in the High-
street. We should like to think that in its low-roofed
114 THE NATION IN THE PAKISH.
parlour, long before it was known to the public, there
sounded forth Doddridge's beautiful hyinn —
" My God, and is Thy table spread," &c.
The Wesley an movement did not affect Worcester-
shire as early or as strongly as it stirred many other
parts of England ; and when John Wesley preached at
the opening of a new chapel in Upton, in 1770, he had
not to encounter the dangers which beset the begin-
ning of his itinerancy. Magistrates sent out neither
soldiers nor warrants against him, and no angry mob,
flinging missiles and curses, gathered around him. It
is mentioned that in this county he met with special
kindness from the clergy ; and, as he never failed to
attend the services of the Church, we may be sure that,
if he were in Upton on the first Sunday in the month,
he knelt to receive the Holy Communion from the
hands of Mr. Baines or his curate. At that time the
services of Wesley and his followers were almost in-
variably in the early morning or late in the evening,
so as not to interfere with the morning aod evening
prayer of the Church. The little chapel in which he
preached is now used as Mr. Richard White's work-
shop, and bears traces of an architectural taste some-
what in advance of the age. It must have been
densely crowded on that March day when the " silver-
haired, apostolic, old man " preached with all his
marvellous power to the poor folk of Upton, the class
he best loved to influence. The English poor were
ignorant and debased to an incredible degree, and in
Upton, it is to be feared, the workers on the water,
with their hereditary drinking habits, were even more
immoral and profane than their country neighbours.
The Church had lost her hold on the people to a great
extent ; services and sermons were alike dull and
wearisome, and the clergy were too few in number,
and in many instances too inert, to visit among their
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 115
people and make friends with them. There were, no
doubt, some earnest souls who loved their Prayer-
books only less than their Bibles, and who found the
deepest joy and truest refreshment in the Sunday
services. The pictures, books, and newspapers of the
day sadden us with their indications of the wickedness
of all classes, but this darkness serves only to throw
into lovelier relief such characters as Goldsmith's
" Country Parson," or Cowper's " Lacemaker."
Perhaps some of those who gathered in Old-
street to hear Wesley's preaching were men and
women who had shut themselves out from all means
of grace, ever since they had been old enough to
choose the evil and reject the good. With them, as
with the colliers of Kingswood or the miners of Corn-
wall, that fervent preaching and that sweet hymn-
singing were the means of awakening many a hard-
ened and evil heart to a true repentance, no mere
passing emotion, but an abiding change of heart and
life. To some of John Wesley's hearers that life may
have been a very short one ; for before the summer
was over small-pox of a very malignant character
appeared in the town, and upwards of forty persons
died of it.
The year 1770 was also marked by the highest flood
recorded in this district ; it was far up Dunn's lane
and New-street, and many feet deep in the Quay and
Goomstool cottages. At Severn Stoke the water satu-
rated the register books in the vestry, so that part of
one volume is nearly illegible, and the stained and
crumpled pages still show the traces of their immer-
sion. In the same parish, in the hamlet of Clifton, a
man and his wife found the water rising so fast in their
bedroom that the man made a hole in the roof through
which they scrambled just in time to save their lives,
and he is remembered to this day by the name of
" Rat Wiltshire."
116 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
It is stated in Green's "History of the English
People," as a sign of the religious apathy which
marked the time of the first and second Georges, that
scarcely a single new church had been erected during
their reigns. It may, therefore, be taken as a proof
of a more generous spirit that the men of Upton began
to build themselves a church in 1754. In the previous
September, Horace Walpole described the old church
as "half ruined." It had survived through four
centuries of English history, and men had hurried to
pray there when in deadly peril from the black death
or plague, or small-pox ; the Roman ritual, the re-
formed liturgy, and Puritan prayers and sermons had
sounded within its walls ; it had been marred and de-
faced by the fierce zeal of Reformers and Ironsides, and
little care had been taken to restore crumbling stones
and decaying woodwork. It is impossible to say why
it had not been repaired out of Hall's charity fund, but
the lands may have been let on long leases, so that the
lump sum raised may have dried up the source of
annual income. The walls of the old church were as
strong as when they were first built, but much of the
interior may have been ruinous, and it certainly must
have been damp and unwholesome from the ground
having risen to a considerable height about the walls.
At a public meeting held in the church in December
1774, under the presidency of Mr. Bromley, it was
decided that Mr. John "Willoughby should undertake
the demolition of the old and the erection cf a new
church, which work was begun early in the following
spring. It seems as if no one concerned in the matter
had the slightest reverence for the relics of the past,
or attempted to preserve any portion of the ancient
building; with one or two exceptions such monuments
only were preserved as belonged to families still exist
ing in Upton ; all others were broken to pieces, and a
few fragments may be seen in a wall near Pool House.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 117
The contract, dated December 10, 1754, provides
for the pulling down of " the remainder of the Parish
Church and chancel . . . which is now standing,"
and building " a new church and chancel in the stead
and place thereof," for "the sum of one thousand four
hundred and sixty-nine pounds." According to a
paper in the possession of the late Mr. T. Bird, out of
this sum £240 was to be allowed for the old materials
and for the stone brought by the late churchwardens
towards the rebuilding of the church. This, doubt-
less, refers to the fact stated, in Rudder's " History of
Gloucester," that the materials of the tower and cross
of the Church of the Holy Trinity, in the old market,
Westgate-street, Gloucester, which had been left
standing when the church was taken down in 1698,
were removed in 1750, and the materials sold for the
rebuilding of Upton Parish Church. Towards the
cost of the new church some donations may have been
obtained, but the only one recorded is £20 from Mr.
King, probably the same person as " Mr. George
Kings, Islington, near London," who, in 1787, gave
4*100 towards establishing a charity school in Upton.
A church rate of one shilling and eightpence in the
pound was made, and the churchwardens bring in an
extra charge on account of this levy, "being an extra-
ordinary trouble in collecting." But the greater part
of the cost was defrayed from a charity fund. There
are inscriptions at the east end of the nave which
are now concealed by the upper galleries and the
colouring of the walls, but which were visible when
Dr. Prattinton paid his visit to the church in 1820.
From his manuscript notes, in the custody of the
Society of Antiquaries, it appears that certain houses
and lands, which evidently belonged to Morris's, alias
Woodward's, charity, were " sold by the Feoffees of
this parish . . . for ninety-nine years, determinable
as under-mentioned, for the sums of 4604 . . . and
118 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
£155, which were . . . applied towards the rebuild-
ing of this church."
About the same time, John Willoughby, the builder,
was authorised " to pull down the spire to the leads,
and to secure the clock, bells, and tower, for seven
guineas and the old materials." The spire, which
was visible from a great distance, and is mentioned
in sundry poems about the neighbourhood of Malvern,
had to be pulled down by ropes and a team of horses,
and was after a time replaced by the existing wooden
cupola, which was designed bj' Mr. Keck, architect,
and cost <£"275. It was at first covered with lead; but
as it was constantly requiring repairs, sundry meet-
ings were held regarding the covering of the "Doom,"
or " Cupelow," and it was eventually decided to cover
it with sheet copper, which has proved successful and
looks well. Mr. C. H. Puckards has informed us that
the suggestion of copper was made by his great-uncle,
Mr. George Rickards, who was one of the church-
wardens at the time, and who borrowed the idea from
St. Peter's, at Pome. The cupola, although an
anachronism as surmounting the fourteenth century
tower, is not without architectural merit, and, when
it was proposed in 1875 to rebuild the church on the
old site, Mr. Blomfield thought the lines of the cupola
so good that he desired to preserve it, with slight
modifications.
A temporary building, styled " The Tabernacle,'"
was put up in the churchyard, and the services were
held there until the new church was completed.
Levelling the ground outside the building was an
expensive process, as it involved the smoothing away.
of all the mounds which marked the burial-places of
many generations ; and among the churchwardens'
accounts appear the following items : — " Remouving
the human mould," and " remouving the sile." As
expenses increased, the authorities bethought them of
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 119
articles which they could sell, and, unfortunately,
"the old plate" was sold for £2 3s., being the chalice
and cover of 1571, which would have been of much
interest in the present time.
The church of 1756, which is yet standing, mainly
consists of a Dave 62 ft. long by 41 feet wide. At the
east end, by way of chancel, is a shallow recess, 10 ft.
deep by 20 ft. wide, flanked by an inside porch or
lobby on the south side, and by a vestry on the north.
The style is of a would-be classical character, the
walls are nearly 30 ft. high to the wall-plates, and
support a vaulted ceiling. The interior, from its
height and clear span of more than forty feet in
width, must have possessed a certain kind of dignity
while undisfigured by galleries ; but first on the north
side, and afterwards on the south, a pewed gallery
was erected ; and, in 1824, when an earnest curate,
the Rev. James Furnival, had attracted large congre-
gations by his preaching, additional sittings were
obtained by putting up another tier of gallery on
either side just under the ceiling. From first to last
the church accommodation was very inadequate.
Before the side galleries were erected there could not
have been more than 250 sittings, and after the last
addition was made the number could not be reckoned
at more than 506.
There was from the first a small gallery at the west
end, used for the singers. They were accompanied by
sundry instruments, of which the bassoon was the
most important, and a frequent charge to the paro-
chial funds in the matter of repairs. There were
high square pews for the Squire and the Rector, and
high narrow pews for every one else, excepting a few
small square ones under the windows. The authori-
ties who made these arrangements do not seem to
have regarded kneeling as a proper attitude during
worship, and the dimensions of the pews rendered it
120 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
scarcely possible. However much we may find to
dislike in the architecture and arrangements of the
eighteenth century church, it was in accordance with
the taste of the age, and Upton people were gratified
when some topographical dictionary described it as
"a neat and handsome structure."
Bell-ringing was an important institution in old
times, and in the parish books of Upton and Severn
Stoke we find a series of links connecting parochial
with national history in the pa}'inents for ringing.
When telegraphs were not, and newspapers were
scarce, at some time of public anxiety the sound of
the church bells gave the first good news to the sur-
rounding neighbourhood. The cheers of the London
crowds around the Seven Bishops, and the thunder of
British cannon at Quebec and Trafalgar were echoed
by the joyful sound of our parish bells, which pealed
out also for many another event of great importance
to the Englishmen of those days. The amount of ale
given to the ringers would seem to have been regu-
lated by the extent of parochial satisfaction ; on
ordinary occasions, such as the anniversary of the
King's birthday, or of his accession, only three quarts
of ale were allowed for each man, but sometimes the
ringers received double that quantity ; the largest
amount expended on the ringers is fifteen shillings
after the victory at Trafalgar. Every now and then
the parish, amongst other economies, determined that
no more money should be paid "on the usual rejoic-
ing days," and only ten shillings a year be paid for
the Sunday chiming. Bells, however, were too
popular to be easily silenced, and in a few years
they were sounding out as frequently as ever.
Among the curious notices in our old books are
some entries concerning briefs during Mr. Smith's
incumbency. These briefs were letters of request to
parish officials all over England to make collections
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 121
for various purposes. They were granted by the
Sovereign, and were generally obeyed, although their
frequency must have made them a heavy tax on the
congregations of smaller parishes. In some years only
three or four briefs are mentioned, but in others they
were more frequent; in 1712, for instance, there were
eleven collections in Upton, the smallest amount
received being one shilling and twopence, and the
largest fifteen shillings, "for the slaves in Median,"
which was probably some place in Barbary, unknown
to modern geography.
Of Mr. Smith's successor, Mr. Walter Jones, and
of Mr. John Benson, who came after him, we know
very little. Their signatures are found two or three
times in the parish books at the beginning of their
incumbencies, and then disappear altogether. They
must have held other livings and have left this larger
parish to the care of a single curate. Mr. Benson
is described in a parochial lease, as " of the
City of Worcester." To him, however, we are
indebted for the only known terrier of the rectory
glebe, tithes, and other property, and also for
a careful list of the church plate, as it existed
in his time. With the exception of that which was
sold at the rebuilding of the church, all this plate is
in use at present. Mr. Benson died in 1768, and was
succeeded by Mr. Thomas Baines, nephew to Dr.
Johnson, Bishop of Worcester. He was an active,
energetic man, but some dispute as to tithes, which
were then paid in kind, caused much ill-feeling be-
tween him and his parishioners ; and to settle the
difficulty the Bishop presented him to another living,
and collated a younger brother, Mr. Robert Baines,
to the Rectory of Upton.
The living was held by these two for sixty-three
years, and it used to be a saying amongst our old
people, when they wished to indicate that some event
122 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
had occurred in pre-historic times that it was " afore
Mr. Baines." Mr. Eobert Baines married when
young, and had a large family. Even in our own time
there has been a vivid recollection of the pretty faces
and merry ways of his daughters, and of the gay
parties at the Bectory. Three of those bright young
lives came to a tragical ending: the eldest daughter
was burned to death whilst on a visit to London ; her
sister, Mrs. Deverell, a lovely young woman, was
drowned, with her husband and three children, in the
wreck of the Aber<i<ir<>iniy, off Portland ; and their
only In-other met with a similar fate in the familiar
waters of Severn, having been drowned while bathing
at Sandy Point.
Mr. Baines considerably enlarged the Bectory, and
he let it at one time, when long absent from Upton, to
Dr. James, the head-master of Bugby. It was also let
during the latter years of Mr. Baines' life, as he then
had taken up his abode in a house in Old-street ; he
died in 1825, in extreme old age, having survived all
his family but one daughter. There are some curious
notices in our books relating to ecclesiastical affairs
in the long period of the incumbencies of these two
brothers : —
i' s. a.
" Paid the Rev. Mr. Baines for writing the tran-
scripts for seven years 2 11 6
Hors hyor for Mr. Baines '2 6
To a bottle of port wine for the parson 5 2
To taking out of the Churchwarden for Mr. Baines 1 9
A book of the Homilies 15
For getting stains off table linen and two lemons... 1 6
For reading three prayers to the Bishop 12 0"
We have many indications in the old accounts of
laws and customs now passed away. " Whitsun
farthings," a payment from each parish church to
the cathedral, are mentioned several times ; and a
sum of five pounds, being half the penalty "for shuting
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 123
hares on a Sunday," is entered to the credit of the
parish. The picturesque custom of "processioning," or
beating the bounds of the parish, is still remembered by
a few old men, who were among the " gallus boys as
runned along by the gentlefolk's horses," taking their
chance of being soused in a boundary ditch, or thrashed
at a boundary hedge, and counting upon some coppers
afterwards. The following entries refer to such occa-
sions :
£ s. d.
" Expends in going too dayes a pozetbening to
6urvay the bounds of the parish ... ... 1 8
Possessoning with Ripple ... ... ... ... 13 6
Partal possessoning ... ... ... ... ... 3 6"
Towards the end of the century, when war and
revolution were filling the minds of Englishmen
with constant apprehension, great pains were taken
to increase the number and the efficiency of the
militia. The block of buildings called the Depot
was used as militia barracks for some years, and
many a soldier lodged in them must have been one of
the heroes of those wars which made the end of the
last and the beginning of this century so glorious
and so terrible. The parish was charged with the
rent of these barracks, and also paid now and then
for a substitute for some parishioner who was " drawn
for the militia."
There were great changes at the manor house in
the last half of the century. Mr. Bromley died in
1755, before the new church was complete^, and he
left one daughter, Judith, the last of the Bromleys of
Ham Court. She and her mother quitted Upton soon
after Mr. Bromley's death, and resided for some years
at Tewkesbury. When the heiress returned, it was
as the wife of Mr. John Martin, one of a family long
established at Overbury ; they rebuilt nearly the
whole of the present house, and also formed a valu-
124 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
able library, and an extremely good collection of
pictures. Mr. Martin was a great power for good in
tbe parish, and took special pains to discourage
pauperism, and relieve only the aged and sick. There
is an interesting portrait of Mrs. Martin by her friend,
Angelica Kaun'man ; it represents the lady of the
manor with a tine figure, and a kind, clever face, having
something of the characteristics of the later Bromleys.
The picture of Angelica Kauffinan, painted by herself,
is in the same room, and preserves to us the pure and
noble face of one of the most charming and most
unhappy women of her time. Mrs. Martin was long
remembered for her good sense, and for little acts of
kindness, less common in her days than in our own.
She would stop her carriage in order that she might
inspect a poor boy's attempt at drawing, and she
would herself assist in making a poor woman's bed
and setting her room in order. Mr. Martin died in
1794, and the lady of the manor married again, her
second husband being Colonel Bland, who died in
1808, a year before herself. She bequeathed all her
property to the nephew of her first husband, the Rev.
Joseph Martin, whose grandson is our present lord
of the manor.
It is worth while to notice the curious changes in
Christian names during the 300 years of our registers.
In the times of Elizabeth and James children were
frequently baptized as Christopher or Anthony,
Marjory, Joan, or Anice. Afterwards came a number
of Old Tofrtament names, Ezra, Nehemiah, Zechariah,
Mordecai, Hannah, and Rebekah, and these again
were followed by our modern names. William was a
very rare name up to the time of the Revolution. Mr.
Bromley gave it to his son in 1685, when a large pro-
portion of Englishmen were looking to William of
Orange as the coming deliverer, and from that time
it has been in general use. It would not be difficult
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 125
to trace the Royal family of England by the names
of Upton children. Thus we find George, Frederick,
Caroline, Amelia, and Charlotte, in the last century,
and Adelaide, Victoria, and Albert in our own time.
Some names have been given at the baptismal font
time out of mind ; John and Henry, Thomas and
Edward have played and shouted after the manner of
boys, whilst Elizabeth, Mary, and Anne have minded
the babies of the period. Perhaps no more unusual
and significant name was ever given than that of a
Hill Croome bachelor, who wedded an Upton maiden
on June 13, 1716. His surname being Lyes, he was
given the Christian name of "Tell-no;" and it is to be
hoped that, with this perpetual memento impressed
upon him, he did tell no lies throughout his life.
Extracts from Parish Books.
"To Williams' child a shift and mantia
For mending young fellow his shoes...
For 2 yds. and 3 qrs. of flanning to make Widow
Hallings ir wench a cote ...
To a poore woman, whose name is not desired to be
known, 4 yds. and half flannell ...
For making Widow Oliver a maud ...
A pair of shuse and whitols ...
Cleving and Hailing the poor's Hood
Expense for the Dutchman when ye cam to bind him
Thomas Pritchitt for odd things, and for sugar,
candles, and bread, now two have the small-pox
A person sent to know what condition they are in...
Brown bread, white bread, and drink
Sugar, flowr, white bread
Sack for Pritchitt's company ...
At Widow Oliver's funeral, paid the women for
laying her out ...
In drink...
Bread and cheese
For blooding ould Griffin and necessaries
Old Brick to bury his wife and subsist ye rest of his
family ... ... ... ... ... ... 16
Coffin, bell, grave, bread, cheese, drink for Lippitt's
girl ... 8 0"
£
s.
d.
1
4
1
6
2
9
4
10|
2
3
5
1
7
2
6
4
1
G
8
3*
2
6
4
4
1
8
1
7
10
5
3
3
6
1
19
10
5
6"
126 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
£ s. a.
"Dr. Harbert, for cutting off Lippitt's amie, and what
he applied to him before his arme was cut off ...
For cutting off the boy's leg
For ten weeks pay to the boy and man
For dyates
Linen cloth, burying the leg & arme, charcoal,
bringing the old man & boy to town
A shin of beef for Lippitt & his boy ...
" Resolved, at a parish meeting, held 4th of May, 1714, that
no more than two shillings be spent at any one meeting, if held
at a Public House."
(S. S.) " Allowed so much per annum, those under-
written, and the overseers not to give one
farthing more without consent of the Rector and
two or three neighbours, with estates of their
own, upon no occasion whatever, upon forfeiture
of paying the same out of their own purse, from
22nd of April, 1G94-5."
(S. S.) "To a petion for redeeming slaves out of
Turkey 6
(S. S.) Gave Mary Lowe when she was amiss
(S. S.) Paid for a warrant for ye window men ... 1 0"
(S. S.) " 1C8G. Payd to Mr. Walker, the Archdeacon's
official, the summe of six pounds one shillin ten
pence three farthings collected for the French
Protestants by me, who gave forty shillins of
the foresaid sum.
Ralph Taylor, Rector."
(S. S.) " For going to Upton to return the names of
the Papists ... ... ... . ... ... 1
(S. S.) 23 Aug., 1687. Given to ye Ringers, it being
ye day wn. his Maty. King James 2nd came to
Worcester ...
(S. S.) Victualls, lodging, and carriage to Crombe to
a dvsracted man
(S. S.) 'For my troble of taking Will Wager to
Aschurch to Mrs. Hains, and once to Twxbury
to have her advice of him...
(S. S.) Mary Joynes shoes and ye care of her, being
bitt with a Boare ...
(S. S.) Charges on Easter Tuesday in ale agot
consent
(S. S.) Paid the Earl of Coventry's Huntsman for 2
Foxes
6
2
4
2
2
4
0'
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 127
(S. S.) " For six young urchins and an old one
(S. S.) Paid Thos. Scriven for 7 foxes
(S. S.) Charges wn. Berwick and Foxes sheeps
were replevin'd
"To a numberelow
To biskes and cakes for the Bishop
To fruit for him... ... ... ...
For Court fees, 2 Horse Hiear, and expencis at ye
Vizetersion ...
Some drink for ye Cleaning of ye walks
1
2
14
1
0"
15
1
G
1
11
1
0"
Note T.
'• Metheridale " is clearly the same as " mithridate " in the
following passage, where Kiteley, fancying himself poisoned,
cries —
" I feel me ill ; give me some mithridate,
Some mithridate and oil, good sister, fetch me."
Ben Jonson's "Every Man in his Humour" A. iv. s. 6.
Note II.
Bull-baiting was a custom of the eighteenth century, and
was kept up in the early part of the nineteenth. Persons not
long dead used to say that bulls were always baited before being
killed, and that it was a rule that the flesh must be sold bj-
candle-light ; so that, even if sold at noon, the lighting of a
candle was a necessary part of the transaction. The baiting
seems at one time to have been enforced by law, probably with
the purpose of making the flesh more tender, for in the History
of Southampton, by the Rev. J. Silvester Davies, it is mentioned
that in 1696' a butcher was fined four loads of faggots for killing
a bull that had not been baited.
CHAPTER VII.
UPTON IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.
Upton was, on the whole, far more prosperous in the
early part of this century than it is at present. It
then possessed two or three small trades, such as
the making of candles, chairs, and hats, and these
helped to give some employment to those not engaged
in the river trade or in agriculture. The traffic on the
water, as mentioned elsewhere, has been considerably
lessened by steam-tugs and railroads. Severn salmon
has much diminished in value since the importation
of the cheaper fish of Ireland and America. As in the
country generally, so in this parish, the farmers are
finding machinery cheaper than men for every variety
of agricultural work ; and in consequence many indus-
trious and honest men are often for days and weeks
without employment, and only a few on each farm are
kept on, " wet or dry." The labourer who has regular
work at present ought to be far better off than the
working man of eighty years ago, with his wages of
6s. or 7s., and bread occasionally at famine prices, as
in 1800, and again in 1820, when the best corn was
from 20s. to 22s per bushel. In the latter year it is
remembered that on Christinas Day the sheaves of
wheat were still standing in the fields, grown together
in one tangled mass. The poor could not afford good
flour in the times of scarcity, but had to be content
with that made from this " grown wheat," which
made very unwholesome and unpleasant bread. A
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 129
loaf of that winter is thus described : " He was that
wet that if you throw'd him again a wall he'd stick
there till you pulled him off." The one item, of house-
hold expenditure that was cheaper in those days was
meat, beef and mutton being from 4d. to 6d. per lb.
Everything in the way of grocery and clothing was
much more expensive. Old men and women are very
severe as to the extravagance in dress of the young
people of the present time. " What times is coming
to I don't know, with girls a buyin' three or four
frocks every year, and payin' seven shillings apiece
for makin' 'em. When I were a girl, Mrs. Patty Skey
gave the five as was best in the Sunday-school a new
frock every Christmas Eve, and I were one of 'em.
There ain't a girl in Upton now as 'ud put that frock
on her back, for he was of blue linsey and as straight
as straight ; but I were that proud of him I used to
keep on a-fingerin' him over in church time, and
a-thinkin how nice I looked."
Secular education made but little progress during
the first quarter of the century, but much good work
was done in Sunday-schools, both of the Church and
of the Nonconformists. Many old men and women
speak of having acquired their power of reading a
chapter in the Bible entirely from their Sunday-school
teaching ; the girls were marched to church in white
tippets and caps, and the boys were looked after by a
man who received 10s. a year for keeping them in
order. The entries in the parish books mark the
gradual change in the manner of conducting Church
services : singers become important people, they have
a curtain to their gallery, and are provided with music,
and entertained occasionally with a supper at the
Lion, at the cost of £'3. In 1812 the stringed instru-
ments are superseded by an organ, and a little later a
parish meeting is held to discuss the lighting of the
church for evening service. In some respects Church
K
130 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
affairs were at a low ebb during the first twenty rears
of this century. The Holy Communion was cele-
brated only three or four times in the year instead of
monthly, as had been the custom for centuries, and
the week-day services were reduced in number.
In 1825 the Eev. John Davison was appointed
rector ; he was a learned scholar and a most diligent
parish priest. It was said by his contemporaries that
he had an equally intimate acquaintance with the con-
cerns of his people, and with classical and Chinese
literature. He was the author of sundry publications,
of which his work on prophecy is the best known. Mr.
Davison raised the roof of the rectory, and otherwise
improved it. A room at the top of the house is still
called by the name he gave it, the " Malvern Study,"
and here he daily spent many hours, reading and
writing at a table drawn close to the window, from
which, whenever he raised his eyes, he could see the
lovely outline of the Malverns. Canon Davison left,
beside his learned works, some little poems of much
grace and sweetness. Among these is an epitaph on
the walls of the old church, in memory of a poor
woman, who died from an exquisitely painful disease,
under circumstances of great misery ; and there is
another in the cathedral to a young lady.
Canon Davison died in 1834, and was succeeded by
the Rev. Henry Joseph Tayler, who was rector for
thirty years ; he concerned himself greatly with the
education of the people, both religious and secular.
and was instrumental in procuring the erection of
the schools.
The Rev. Robert Lawson was collated to the rectory
of Upton in 1864, and to an honorary canonry of the
cathedral in 1874. He was also made rural dean of
the deanery of Upton in 1878, and received each of
these appointments from the present Bishop of Wor-
cester.
THE NATION IN THE PAKISH. 131
Upton did not take much part in the agitation which
preceded the Reform Bill of 1832, but some of the
boatmen were at Bristol on that memorable Sunday,
October 30th, 1831, when the mob in its drunken fury
was plundering and burning both the public and
private buildings of the city. Among the boatmen
whose vessels were lying in the river, and who took
part in these outrages, were three of our men. They
had left home poor, and returned rich ; they bought
houses and boats, and on more than one occasion their
neighbours caught sight of valuable jewelry, and a
" quart measure full of sovereigns," the spoil of some
plundered dwelling in Queen's-square. To Upton
minds it still appears an illustration of sundry
old proverbs that none of these three men pros-
pered in later life, and their families were left in
poverty.
Two other incidents are mentioned which illustrate
events that were agitating the nation; one being the
illumination of the town in honour of the acquittal of
Queen Caroline ; the other the exhumation of some
corpses in Hanley churchyard, which were hidden in
the Anchor Inn, at the time when the atrocities of
Burke and Hare were horrifying the country.
Among parochial events of the present century we
must not omit to record that the award for the inclo-
sure of common lands and open fields was confirmed
by the Inclosure Commissioners on August 28th,
1863 ; that the Tewkesbury and Malvern Railway, on
which Upton has its own station, was opened in May,
1864; and that in 1879 repairs, renewal, and exten-
sion of the town pavements and footways were made
at the cost of £'910, of which the sum of £650 was
obtained from the "Necessary Purposes Fund" of
Hall's Charity.
The public buildings of Upton almost entirely belong
to the present century, the exceptions being the old
132 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
church tower near the river, with the church attached
to it in 1755-6, and the Baptist chapel.
Of the former parish church some account has
already been given at pp. 117 to 120.
The Baptist chapel is a brick building with stuccoed
front, a few yards retired from Old-street. In the
same inclosure is a school-room, which was formerly
used for vestry purposes, and there is a small disused
burial ground at the back of the chapel. The build-
ings were erected in 1732, and in the following year
among those '' licensed for Anabaptists " appears, " a
newly-erected house at Upton mentioned in the certi-
ficate of E. Baskerville and Thomas Skey." About
the same time a residence for the minister was built,
chiefly at the expense of a Mr. Morris, of Worcester.
In 1863 the chapel was enlarged and the vestries
converted into a school-room, at the cost of about
i*600.
The Town Hall and Market House were built in 1832,
under a special Act of Parliament. The markets
were intended to be held on the ground floor, under-
neath which cells for prisoners were constructed, and
the floor above was used for Petty Sessions, the
Savings Bank, the County Court, &c. But no market
has been held for more than twenty years ; the County,
in 1863, erected a building elsewhere for the Sessions
and the custody of prisoners ; the County Court was
transferred to Malvern in 1867; and in 1883 it became
necessary to close the Savings Bank, which had been
established in 1819. The principal use of the build-
ing now is for public meetings, concerts, and other
entertainments.
The Union Workhouse was built in 1836, and was
considerably enlarged by the addition of an infirmary
and extra wards in 1870. The buildings are of brick,
and afford accommodation for 150 inmates.
The Roman Catholic chapel of St. Joseph, with
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 133
a residence for a priest, was built in 1850, and conse-
crated on October 3rd in that year. The building is
of brick with Bath stone dressings, and, exclusive of
the site and materials given and hauled, the cost
was about £200. The architect was C. Hanson,
Esq.
The old bridge was built at the expense of the
County in accordance with James I. iii. cap. 21, and,
having been partly destroyed by floods, and being
considered an obstruction to the navigation of the
Severn, was removed and replaced by a new bridge in
1653. A drawbridge formed a portion of the structure
until 1883, when a swing-bridge was substituted for it
at the cost of about £1,500, of which £600 was paid
from the Bridge Fund of Hall's Charity.
A Mechanics' Institute was built in 1853, and
during some years was used for classes and discus-
sions, lectures in connection with it being given at the
Town Hall. It is now used as a subscription reading-
room. The building is of brick, consists of a single
room with a porch, and stands on land belonging to
G. E. Martin, Esq.
The Town National Schools were built on a site
given by the late Major Martin in the year 1859, and
in 1872 a girls' class-room was added. They now
consist of boys' school with class-room, girls' school
with class-room, infants' school, and teachers' resi-
dence. The material is of brick, with Bath stone
dressings, and the architect was G. R. Clarke,
Esq.
An order in Council for the closing of all burial-
grounds in the parish having been issued on March
31, 1865, a cemetery was formed, and two chapels
with a central tower and a keeper's lodge were erected
thereon. The site allotted at the inclosure was only
an acre and a half, and, after allowing for the room
taken up by buildings, roads, &c, the ground sufficed
134 THE NATION IN THE PAEISH.
for only 1,183 grave spaces. Of these there were
assigned to the Church 964, and to other religious
bodies 219 ; and during the eighteen years ended with
1883, the burials in the Church ground numbered
736, and on the other ground 68. The former ground
was consecrated on December 22nd, 1865. The build-
ings are of blue lias stone with Bath stone dressings ;
the architect was G. E. Clarke, Esq., and the builder
Mr. Griffiths, of Eldersfield.
The Chapel of the Good Shepherd was built in 1870
at the Hook, on a site provided by an arrangement
between Mrs. Attwood and the late Major Martin, and
was intended mainly for the benefit of some eighty
families, the nearest of which live at more than a
mile and a half from the parish church, on the Hook-
road, the Ledbury-road, and about Brotheridge-green
and Gilver-lane. It is built of Charlbury stone with
Bath stone dressings, consists of a nave, chancel,
vestry, porch, and bell-cot, and contains 121 sittings.
The architect was G. R. Clarke, Esq., and the builder
Mr. Griffiths, of Eldersfield. This chapel-of-ease was
consecrated on September 20th, 1870 ; the name
given to it was considered appropriate to a church
built upon what is still known as a " common," and
to a population until then remote from pastoral
ministrations in a consecrated fold. The cost, includ-
ing the value of the site and fittings, was about
I' 1,400. All the seats have from the first been
free.
The Hook National School was built near the Chapel
of the Good Shepherd, on a site given by the late
Major Martin in 1872. The buildings are of brick,
dressed with Bath stone, and consist of a school-room,
class-room, porch, and teacher's house. The cost was
about £620; the architect was G. R. Clarke, Esq.,
and the builders Messrs. Bell and Wridgway, of
Upton.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 135
The new parish church, as being of greater impor-
tance and beauty than any other building in Upton,
demands a fuller account than the rest. The move-
ment in favour of more adequate provision for worship
began in 1875. It was shown that, while by the
census of 1871 the population was 2,664, the existing
church, even with two tiers of gallery, provided only
506 sittings; and that 114 of these were in the top-
most tier, where anything like devout worship was
almost impossible. Mr. Blomfield, the well-known
architect, was asked to examine and report upon the
building, with a view to its enlargement and improve-
ment, but it became so evident that no satisfactory
result could be obtained in this way, that the large
meeting assembled to receive his report decided in
favour of building a new church. Mr. Blomfield fur-
nished plans for a handsome church, to be built on to
the old tower ; but, when the lines of it were marked
out with pegs and string, it was realised how much of
the churchyard would be included, and how many
graves would be disturbed, by the new walls. Hence
arose among the parishioners a strong desire for
another site ; and, eventually, Mr. Martin purchased
" Elmsleigh," and gave so much of the garden as
would suffice for the site of a new church.
Owing to many unavoidable delays, the building
was not begun until November, 1877 ; the " memorial
stone" was laid by Mrs. Martin, on February 15th,
1878 ; and the church was consecrated on September
3rd, 1879. The preachers in the morning and after-
noon were the Bishops of Worcester and Exeter, and
the amount of offerings on the day, including those at
a farewell early service in the old church, was
4*207 18s. 9d.
The church is in the geometrical decorated style,
and the external facing is of coursed Stairway rubble
with Bath stone dressings. It is rectangular in plan,
136 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
consisting of a clerestoried nave and chancel, aisles,
north chancel aisle, south transept, and vestries, with
a square tower at the N.W. angle, carrying a broached
stone spire with moulded pinnacles at the angles.
The lower part of the tower forms one of the principal
entrances, and the belfry above is intended to receive
a peal of bells. There is also a south porch, and a
door at the west end and in the north chancel aisle.
The seating was calculated to accommodate 703
persons, and all the seats are free and unappropriated.
The area is more than double that of the former
parish church. The height of the tower is 78 feet;
and the spire, being from the ground to the top of the
finial cross 183 feet high, is an ornament to the
landscape for many miles round.
The total cost, including site and fittings, was
nearly £13,000, and of this about £6,000 was con-
tributed by Mr. and Mrs. Martin, of Ham Court, and
their relations. As may be supposed, it was very
difficult to make up the balance of nearly £7,000,
especially as "hard times " had set in; but " Hall's
Charity" supplied £l,050,the Church-building Societies
granted £510, and the strenuous efforts made by some
within the parish called forth much kind sympathy
and help from many outside. Thus within a year
from the consecration a balance-sheet was presented,
showing that the entire cost had been defrayed and a
small balance left in hand. Since then, in 1884, about
£500 has been expended upon filling the east window
with painted glass, representing our Lord in glory,
and on the decoration of the chancel roof, the amount
having been raised by unsolicited donations from many
persons. The dedication of the new, as of the old,
church is in the names of St. Peter and St. Paul ; and
the two single-light windows on the south of the
chancel have been filled with painted representations
of those saints in memory of Samuel Kent, Esq., and
§
THE MEW CHURCH AT UPTON ON SEVERN
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 137
Owen Kent, Esq. The architect was Arthur W.
Blomfield, Esq., the builder Mr. T. Collins, Tewkes-
bury, and the artists employed for the windows and
other decorations were Messrs. Heaton, Butler &
Bayne, London.
In the Diocesan History of Worcester (S.P.C.K.),
Kidderminster, Pershore, Bromsgrove, Malvern, and
Upton are mentioned as "notable instances of church
restoration in the diocese."
CHAPTEE VIII.
DR. JOHN DEE.
Some mention has been made of the Eectors of Upton
in the course of the History, but Dr. John Dee,
layman and conjuror, although he has no connection
with religious affairs, is yet deeply interesting from a
historical point of view, and so must be given a
chapter to himself. This remarkable man was of a
Welsh family, but born in the city of London, where
his father was a wealthy vintner, a.d. 1527. He
received some preparatory education in one or two of
the city schools, and subsequently at the grammar
school of Chelmsford. He was but fifteen when he
became a student of St. John's, Cambridge, and
threw himself with extraordinary ardour into the
studies of the place. During his five years of residence
he maintained, with unflinching strictness, the self-
imposed rule which allowed him but four hours out
of the twenty- four for sleep and two for meals, wdiile
the remaining eighteen were given to study and
devotion. With such industry, and an intellect of
unusual power and keenness, he became a scholar of
vast knowledge and accuracy; but, unsatisfied with
what he had learnt at Cambridge, he left the
University in 1547, and passed some time in Flanders.
The objeci of his visit was "to speake and confer
with learned men, and chiefly mathematicians," *
* Dee's " Compendious Rehearsall/'
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 139
and he made acquaintance with Mercator, Frisius,
and other celebrated Flemings. On his return to
England, he was chosen to be a fellow of King Henry's
newly-erected College of Trinity, and was also made
under-reader of the Greek tongue. He gave much of
his time to mathematical and astronomical studies,
assisted in the former by some rare and curious
instruments ; and in the latter by " a pair of great
globes and an astronomer's staff of brass," which he
had brought from Flanders. He was frequently
trying chemical experiments, and was a mechanic of
considerable skill, as he manifested in the performance
which led to his expulsion from Cambridge. He got
up a Greek play, the comedy of Aristophanes called
Elpy']V7], and introduced into it, according to his own
account, the " Scarabseus or Beetle, her flying up to
Jupiter's palace with a man and his basket of victuals
on her back : whereat was great wondering, and many
vaine reports spread abroad of the meanes how that
was effected." Probably it was but a clumsy per-
formance, not half so pretty or clever as a transforma-
tion scene in a modern pantomime ; but then it seemed
too wonderful to have been accomplished by merely
human agency. Dee was accused of alliance with the
evil one, and so reviled and suspected that he had to
fly from Cambridge.
This suspicion of sorcery was never afterwards
removed ; and although he began with denying super-
natural powers, he was rather pleased at being sup-
posed to possess them. Any great learning seemed
"uncanny" at a time when astronomy in popular
estimation meant astrology, and chemistry was thought
to be but attempted alchemy. Dee, great genius and
scholar though he was, had much vanity and egotism
in him, and was easily swayed by public opinion.
He learned, from the mingled horror and admiration
of his fellow-men, to take their view of his own attain-
140 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
ments, and soon became as much self-deluded as
deluding. Throughout his life he denied any attempt
at dealing with the powers of darkness; but he gloried
in his supposed intercourse with good spirits and
angels, and in the glimpses of futurity revealed to
his prayers. He never ceased to study and to try
experiments, and he was certainly aware of one or two
optical and chemical secrets which have been con-
sidered discoveries of the present age. But his imagi-
nation was always overruling his science, and he
looked upon these successes, not as the result of
patient labour and acuteness, but as supernatural
revelations granted to encourage him in his mystical
studies.
Dee must have been a singularly attractive and
pleasant person in his earlier years. Wherever he
went he made friends, and had many admirers and
pupils. So when he left England, somewhat under a
cloud, and went to Lorraine for a couple of years, he
was visited and consulted by men of the highest rank
and station, and received the title of Doctor of Laws
from the University. When he went thence to Paris,
there was a very frenzy of admiration for him ; his
lectures on Euclid's Elements were so fully attended
that the mathematical school could not hold all the
eager auditors, and they clambered up at the windows
and listened at the doors as best they could. He had
several offers of good stipends and honourable offices,
including a mathematical lectureship, with an income
of 200 crowns. But he preferred England, whither
he returned in 1551. His good fortune and the fame
of his learning came with him, and he at once took
as good a position here as abroad. He was presented
by Secretary Cecil to the young King, who speedily
bestowed upon him a pension of 100 crowns per
annum. This was soon "bettered," Dee says, by "his
bestowing on me the rectory of Upton-upon-Seaverne,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 141
and a sufficient testenionie of His Majesty's present-
ing me to that rectory, lyeth here, with an authentick
seale annext to it, a.d. 1553, 19 Maii." It seems that
he never received Holy Orders, and yet he was con-
sidered rector of Upton, and of another living, Long
Lednam, in Norfolk, probably given to him also by
Edward VI. At the latter place a stone, inscribed
with his name, and with sundry mathematical
figures, has been found, indicating that he at one time
lived in that parish. It is possible that Upton
Eectory also may have been a convenient country
residence when the accession of Queen Mary made it
expedient that he should absent himself from Court.
At that time Bonner held the living of Ripple, and
some estates at Bushley ; he was a native of Hanley
Castle, and kept up a constant intercourse with his
friends there. If he and Dee ever inhabited their
Worcestershire parsonages they were near neighbours,
but they never could have been friends. Bonner
was hard and unscrupulous, given to cruel jests and
more cruel deeds. Dee was visionary, unpractical,
and sensitive, while both were men of great ability
and restless ambition. Their opinions on religion
and politics were utterly opposed ; and the death of
the young King, which for the time crushed the hopes
of John Dee, was wonderfully good fortune for
Bonner. The former was in disgrace before the new
reign had lasted many months. He was accused of
correspondence with Elizabeth's servants, and of
compassing the death of Mary by enchantments. After
some imprisonment he was brought to trial on the
charge of treason, and acquitted, but only to be sent
to the custody of Bonner, on suspicion of heresy. He
was released after six months' detention, on entering
into recognisances " for ready appearing and good
abearing for four months longer." While he was
thus detained this rectory was bestowed upon
142 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
another, one Seth Holland, who was also made dean
of Worcester, and rector of Eladbury. He was a
zealous Romanist; and Bonner seems to have kept
Dee in captivity, in order that he might have the dis-
posal of his preferment. He never acknowledged that
the rectory had passed from him ; and fifty years
later considered that the parsonage and tithes of
Upton were still his own.
When Elizabeth succeeded to the throne, Dee was
in the full sunshine of courtly favour again. Lord
Dudley, by the Queen's desire, consulted him as to a
fortunate day for the coronation ; and, as the day he
selected was an eminently prosperous one, it became
the fashion to consult him, and he was visited by all
who were rich enough to fee him for horoscopes and
other astronomical information. The Queen fre-
quently invited him to Court, and held many con-
ferences with him. She was full of hopes that the
genius and learning which had done such wonders
already would effect yet more, and penetrate the two
great mysteries — the elixir vitae and the philoso-
pher's stone — those secrets which would endue her
with perpetual youth, aud fill her treasury with
inexhaustible wealth.
Elizabeth could well appreciate a man of Dee's
intellectual power, coupled as it was with much
eloquence, and a peculiar charm both of person and
manner. Twice she appealed to his scientific know-
ledge to calm the superstitious fears of her courtiers
at strange heavenly phenomena. In 1572, when a
new and brilliant star appeared for a time in Cassio-
peia's chair, and then faded away, and three years
later, when a great comet terrified all England, the
Queen summoned her favourite philosopher to explain
these marvels, which he did, "giving lectures for
many evenings together, on the nature and properties
of the heavenly bodies." When Elizabeth was in
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 143
bad health, she dispatched Dee to confer with foreign
philosophers (or astrologers) concerning her case ;
and when, on his return journey, he became danger-
ously ill in Lorraine, she sent two English doctors to
attend him, and " divers rarities to eat to encrease
his health and strength." There is a curious account
of the Queen, " with many of her lords and nobility,"
journeying to visit Dee, and see the library in his
house at Mortlake. But they could not enter, for
his wife had been "within four hours before buried
out of the house." The Queen would not, however,
depart without seeing the most celebrated of Dee's
treasures. He says in his journal : " She willed me
to fetch my glass so famous, and to show her some
of the properties of it, which I did ;" and he goes on
to describe how her Majesty was lifted down from her
horse by the Earl of Leicester, and went, followed by
her noble company, into the churchyard, where,
against the wall of the church, she was shown the
reflection from the wonderful mirror, " to her great
contentment and delight." It is supposed to have
been some sort of convex glass, so managed as to
show the reflection of different figures and faces.
The Queen visited Dee on another occasion when the
shadow of death was over his house, for his mother,
who shared the house at Mortlake with him, had
expired a few hours before the arrival of the roval
party. This time Elizabeth seems to have come less
to please herself than to comfort him, after his having
received some rather harsh treatment from the Lord
Treasurer. Elizabeth had affected to have doubts
as to her right to rule over the strange countries
which were then being discovered by her gallant sea-
captains, and to ease her scruples she desired Dee to
give her a full account of the newly- found regions.
He produced in a few days two large rolls, in which
not only the geography but also the history of
144 THE NATION IN THE PAKISH.
English colonies throughout the world was given at
length. He must have drawn largely on his imagin-
ation to produce such a work, and Elizabeth could
hardly have looked upon his account of Virginia, or
Florida, or Newfoundland as trustworthy history.
But she wished to believe it, and expressed her
gracious approval of the manuscripts, much to the
disgust of the wise Burleigh. He expressed his dis-
approval in the Queen's presence ; and afterwards,
when Dee attended at his house, refused to admit
him, and when he came forth, would not speak with
him. Perhaps the cautious Lord Treasurer thought
it best not to keep up a quarrel with one whom the
Queen delighted to honour ; or, as Dee represents,
he was convinced of his truthfulness by further
examination of the writings. The object of the royal
visit to Mortlake was to tell the mortified philosopher
that Burleigh had brought the two rolls back to the
Queen, and greatly commended his " doings for her
tittle which he had to examyn," only two hours before
she and her attendants had started for the palace.
The Lord Treasurer, apparently to make their friend-
ship more sure, sent to Dr. Dee a haunch of venison
three weeks afterwards ; but the scholar's fear of the
minister was not quite removed, judging by a dream
which he records one night in the following year :
" I dreamed that I was deade, and afterwards my
bowels were taken out. I walked and talked with
diverse, and among other with the Lord Threasorer,
who was come to my house to burn my bones when I
was dead, and thought he looked sourely on me."
We come now to that portion of Dee's long life,
which is illustrated by his private journal, edited by
Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps. It was written in a small
and illegible hand on the margin of old almanacks,
and was certainly never meant for publication. Of
his outside life, of his labours and rewards, his suffer-
THE NATION IN THE PAKISH. 145
ings and hardships, we have his own account in the
"Compendious Rehearsall." This, however, which
is an autobiographical sketch of himself from his
boyhood to his 66th year, was written on purpose for
the Royal Commissioners, and is, therefore, far less
interesting than the informal desultory journal. Mr.
Halliwell-Phillipps has given us such an insight into
Dee's private life and real character as we can seldom
gain about historical personages ; and no one can
study the journal without being deeply interested in
the strange, yet simple-minded, writer. There are a
few notices of persons who consulted him about casting
horoscopes in earlier years ; but he does not notice his
private life until 1577, when he makes sundry entries
about visits of great people to his house ; his falling
upon his "right nuckul bone," his " hyring the
barber of Cheswick," to keep the hedges and "knots" in
his garden in good order for five shillings yearly and
meat and drink ; how he borrowed ±30 of a friend to
be repaid in a year ; and how one William Rogers, of
Mortlake, " cut his own throat by the fende, his insti-
gation." Early in the following year he married for
a second time, when he was fifty-one, and the bride
but twenty-three, years of age. She was the daughter
of Mr. Fromonds, one of his chief friends and fellow-
workers in alchemical experiments, and seems to have
been a shrewd, managing woman, of whom her learned
husband stood in some awe, although she could not
influence him sufficiently to restrain his lavish
expenditure on books, manuscripts, and rare
scientific instruments. Her temper was irritable and
passionate ; once there is an entry in the diary ;
" Jane most desperately angry in respect of her
maydes;" and again, "Katharin" (the eldest little
girl), "by a blow on the eare given by her mother,
did bled at the nose very much, which did not start'
for an houre or more : afterward she did walk into
L
116 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
the town -with nurse ; upon her coming home she
bled agayn." *
Both these entries belong, however, to a later
period, when poor Jane Dee had undergone enough
to sour the sweetest temper. She had frequent
illnesses, many children, and constant difficulties in
getting sufficient money for the needful expenses of
the household. Dee spent nearly £3,000 on his
library, an enormous sum for a private individual of
small income, considering the value of money in
those days. He was also quite reckless as to the
amount he laid out on experiments, and on the
salaries of his assistants or mediums. He constantly
received large presents, but as constantly lived far
beyond his means ; still, he might have prospered
had it not been for a disastrous friendship which he
formed in 1581 with Edward Kelly. Until that time
he had devoted himself mostly to science and litera-
ture, and had brought out some works of profound
learning, especially a treatise on " The Reformation
of the Calendar "; but from the beginning of his inti-
macy with Kelly he laid aside every pursuit that did
not aid him in his alchemical and magical studies,
and rapidly degenerated into the necromancer and
adventurer. We are sorry to think that Kelly was a
"Worcester man, for England has seldom produced a
greater rogue ; his artfulness in making falsehood
look like truth, and his power of ruling nobler and
wiser men have seldom been equalled. He made Dee
his dupe, and persuaded him that he had the gift of
seeing and hearing the " spiritual! creatures" who
would not let themselves be seen and heard by Dee.
There is a whole volume full of their dealings with
* On one occasion Dee puts up a prayer to the angels that
Jane may be cured of some malady, so that she may " be of a
quieter mind, and not so testy and fretting as she hath been."
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 147
spirits ; * they generally appeared in a black stone or
crystal, which Kelly asserted had been brought to him
by the angel Uriel, in order to reveal to him things
invisible. Dee looked upon these magical proceed-
ings as part of his religion ; when an incantation was
to take place, the sacred crystal was placed on a sort
of altar before a crucifix, with lighted candles on
either side, and an open psalter before it; and
praj^ers and ejaculations of the most fervid descrip-
tion are intermingled with the account, taken down at
Kelly's dictation, of the dress and hair, as well as the
sayings and movements, of the angels. For a time
nearly all their fancied revelations had reference to
researches for the elixir vitse and the philosopher's
stone, and every experiment recommended by Kelly
was tried, however costly. In two years' time the
Dees w r ere so short of money that, when the Earl of
Leicester proposed dining with them, and bringing
Count Laski, a noble Pole, in order that he might
make their acquaintance, Dee had to explain that he
could not give them a suitable dinner without selling
some of his plate or pewter to procure it. The diffi-
culty was at once mentioned to the Queen, who sent
him, "within an hour, forty angells of gold." This
visit of Laski was a crisis in the life of John Dee.
The Pole was fond of " occult studies," and was alto-
gether captivated by the English alchemist's eloquen
talk and profound belief in the mystical world. For
some months he was constantly visiting him, and
engaging with him in new experiments of greater cost
than before. After a time, when his finances ran low
and he had to leave England, he suggested that Dee
with his wife and children, and Kelly with his wife
and brother, should accompany him to Poland, where,
* Casaubon's " Eelation of Dee's Conference with Spirits."
148 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
undisturbed in his castle, they could carry on their
researches for the great secret.
Dee was, by this time, out of heart about getting
any regular pension or preferment from the Queen.
She had given him an occasional present, and a great
deal of notice and flattery, and had tried to make him
Dean of Gloucester, but this was objected to, because he
was not in Holy Orders, and nothing eligible seemed
to be ready for him. So he was willing enough,
hampered as he was with debts, to try his fortune
abroad. The Dees and their large party left Graves-
end in 1583 ; and it was six years before they sailed
up the Thames again. Those six years were full of
alternations of fortune ; one patron after another
became weary of supplying Dee and Kelly with money,
in order to make the gold which never appeared ;
and all the time Dee. was sinking lower and lower
under the influence of his iniquitous friend, who
made him regard much that was blasphemous and vile
as the teaching of angels. After countless experi-
ments, the two found themselves able to coat the
baser metals with silver, having, apparently, dis-
covered the secret of .electro-plating. A piece of an
iron warming-pan thus coated was sent to England,
in order to convince Elizabeth of their powers as
alchemists. About the same time Dee and Kelly,
after many violent quarrels, finally separated, Kelly
contriving to carry off the greater part of the books
and instruments which had been their joint stock in
the business of alchemy. Elizabeth was pleased
with the reputation Dee had acquired on the Conti-
nent, and, being sanguine as to his having discovered
the philosopher's stone, sent him friendly messages,
which had the effect of bringing him back to England.
The Count Rosenberg, his hist host, was delighted to
facilitate the departure of Dee and his family with a
present of money and great promises for the future,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 149
for he found that they were troublesome and expen-
sive guests.
They made slow progress homewards, lingering at
sundry towns on the way to practise divination and
other mysteries. It was shortly before Christmas that
they landed in England ; and they found their once
comfortable home at Mortlake half- wrecked and
desolate, as it had been attacked by a mob, soon after
their departure from England, on account of the report
of Dee's sorcery. The assailants had ransacked the
whole place, but had vented their chief fury on the
library. The precious books and manuscripts,
which he had been collecting for forty years, had been
carried away or left in charred fragments ; the great
globes and compasses, the watch which measured the
360th part of an hour, and the " many rare and
exquisite instruments mathematicall," .had been
" barbariously spoyled, and with hammers smitt in
pieces." A few of his books were recovered through
the kindness of friends, but the loss was still an
enormous one in money value, and a very painful one
to a bibliomaniac like Dee. It was a fortnight after
they landed before they established themselves at
Mortlake ; and a miserable coming home it was for
poor Jane Dee, with her five little children, and her
husband, now an elderly man, fretful and unhappy
over his losses and his failures. They had to borrow
money as soon as they landed, and were full of annoy-
ances and mortifications. There could not be a more
irregular and uncomfortable household than that of
the Dees after they came to England. There are
frequent notices of servants' " unthankfulnesse and
unseemly dealings," or their " leaving suddenly with-
out due cause ;" and the children were mischievous,
high-spirited little creatures, who sorely worried their
delicate mother, and kept their loving old father in a
constant state of anxiety. They did not receive much
150 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
education during their Continental wanderings. Once
L>ee engages a John Basset to share their dwelling at
'©"■o
Trebona, and be paid seven ducats a quarter for
teaching Arthur grammar. But he did not get on very
well, apparently, for in four days there is an entry,
"Basset, his hurly-burly with Mr. T. Kelly," and in
a few months, "he conveyed himself away," under
pretence of making some purchases in the neighbour-
ing town. More than a year and a half passed before
another attempt at teaching is recorded ; and then
Dee mentions his giving a Mr. Lee, at Mortlake, his
cottage rent free and 40s. yearly for schooling little
Katharine and three of her brothers.
John Dee was a most tender father, never too busy
to doctor his turbulent little people in their numerous
accidents and sicknesses, and to record the symptoms
in his diary. There, among high-flown passages
about astrological mysteries, or dealings with the
Queen and the Court, appear these entries, and
many others of the like purport : —
" January 1st, 1588. — About nine of the clock, afternone.
Michael going childishly with a sharp stik of eight inches long,
anil a littell wax cantlell light on the top of it, did fall on the
playn bords in Marie's room, and the sharp point of the stik
entred the lid of his left eye towards the corner next the nose,
and so persed through ; insomuch that great abundance of blud
came out under the lid ; the hole outside is not bigger tban a
pin's head ; it was anoynted with St. John's oyle. The boy slept
well. God spede the rest of the cure ! "
" August 4th, 1590.— Theodore had a sore fall on his mowth
at mid-day."
" August 5th. — Rowland fell into the Terns over head and
ears abowt noone, or somewhat after."
" June 27th, 1591.— Arthur wounded on his hed by his own
wanton throwing of a brik-bat upright, and not well avoiding
the fall of it agayn. The half brik weighed 2£ lb."
" July 0th, 1594. — Michael became distempered in his hed and
bak. July 18th, in ortu solis, Michael Dee did give up the
ghost after he sayd, ' O Lord, have mercy upon me!'"
Little Michael was the only one of Dee's children
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 151
who died young ; but we know nothing of the after
life of any of the other seven, except Arthur, who
became celebrated enough to be chronicled in Wood's
" Athenae." When he was about seven years old, and
at the time when his father found that Kelly was
failing him as a medium, he initiated the child, with
solemn ceremony and devout prayer, into his own
mystical pursuits. Arthur had been, from his cradle,
with those who believed implicitly in spiritual appear-
ances and revelations through the wonderful crystal,
and he must have enjoyed with childish importance
the notion of being the messenger between his father and
the unseen world. When first allowed to gaze into the
glittering depths of the enchanted stone, he shaped
its flecks and spots into strange forms and figures ;
but he was not sufficiently insincere or fanciful to play
the part of -a medium. It says much for Dee's
fatherly love, as well as for his truthfulness, that he
speedily released the little boy from his office, and
never attempted to employ him in this capacity again.
He was sent to Westminster School when thirteen
years old, and is spoken of as "a youth of exceeding
great and haughty spirit, and naturally ready to
revenge rashly." The others received education by
fits and starts. For two or three years after their
returning home, the Dees can hardly find money for
necessary food and raiment. Their little store of
plate, together with Jane's "jew T ells of gold, rings,
bracelets, chains, and other our rarities, are under
the thraldom of the usurer's grip, till non plus is
written upon the boxes at home;" and what with
loans thus raised, and debts contracted with friends
and shopkeepers, and "by skore and talley," their
liabilities amounted to nearly £4,000 of present
money. They were incredibly tormented for want of
"meat, drinke, fewell, cloth," &c, &c, and Dee
announces to the Royal Commissioners that, unless
152 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
speedily relieved, be must sell his house and " step
out of dores, I and ruyne, with bottles and wallets
furnished, to become wanderers as homish vagabonds,
or as banished men to forsake the Kingdom."
Before his affairs had come to this deplorable state,
he had been constantly applying to the Queen, or to
some of the Court officials, for a pension or some
lucrative office ; and he struggled hard four or five
times to have the parsonages and rents of Upton and
Long Lednam restored to him. Over and over again
he makes entries about these two livings ; once he
expects to obtain a dispensation for them, and is
bitterly aggrieved when Archbishop Parker finally
refuses to have anything to do with the matter.
Fifty-three years after his imprisonment at Hampton,
and Seth Holland's presentation to our rectory, John
Dee records his receiving " a letter about the sute
from Upton, and of the Lord Archbishop and his hard
dealing."
Elizabeth sent Dee £50 tw r o years after he returned
to England, "to keep Christmas withal;" but, as she
had led him to expect £100, he was not very grateful.
Other friends gave him great presents ; sometimes a
" hogshead of claret wyne; " sometimes " fish against
Lent," or some grocery stores for Jane ; sometimes
money — it might be a few shillings, or it might be
£10 or £20. He must still have been courtly and
attractive, for he was asked to visit some of the
noblest in the land, and received frequent visits in
return. But his fame as a philosopher and man of
science was fading away ; people cared little for his
revelations and the great undertakings and marvellous
discoveries which he was ever devising. He became
querulous and importunate, and the tiresome egotism
of old age was increasing on him. The Queen gave
him the Chancellorship of St. Paul's, but he was still
dissatisfied; and when (1595) she appointed him
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 153
warden of the College at Manchester, she evaded a
parting interview, and was, probably, rather glad that
he would be removed to a distance from the Court.
In the previous year Dee had been vigorous enough
to arrest a cut-purse who was robbing him in the
streets of London ; but he has had several attacks of
illness, and now his strength seems failing ; very often
" his hed doth ake and is heavy," but still he continues
intent upon his studies with unfaltering diligence,
although constantly annoyed by finding that he has
been deceived by some cunning fellow who has pre-
tended to be a medium.
The nine years at Manchester formed, apparently,
the most wretched portion of his life. He had slipped
away from the courtly circle to a lower social level,
and, instead of being associated with such men as
Walsingham, Raleigh, and other keen wits of the
time, he was thrown into daily contact with rough
and ignorant townsmen, who reviled and opposed him
at every turn. He was in constant quarrels either
with his curate, or the students of the college, or his
tenants. After a year or two the money difficulties
were nearly as bad as ever, although some of his friends
were quaintly generous. Count Laski sent him
"twenty-three barrels of Dantzic rye," and his kins-
folk in Wales seventeen head of cattle. He pawned
some of his books and plate, including a silver tankard
given to his daughter Frances by her godmother,
Lady Hertford.
Dee became more and more unfriendly with his
neighbours the longer he lived in Manchester. On
every side he was assailed with suspicions of sorcery ;
and in 1604 he petitioned to be brought to trial, and
so cleared from the charges of his assailants. His
royal patron, the great Elizabeth, was dead, and her
wary and niggardly successor would have nothing to
say to him. Soon after the rejection of his petition
154 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
he quitted Manchester, and once more took shelter in
the house at Mortlake. His diary ceases in 1600, and
we know little of the end of his life, but that little is
sad enough. His health had broken down; the friends
of former years had died or forgotten him ; the wise
and the learned of the new generation censured or
despised him ; and he was so poor that he had often
to sell one of his beloved books to procure a meal.
He continued his alchemical studies to the last, and
shortly before his death wrote several papers, relating
interviews with the angel Eaphael, which are still
preserved. By death or estrangement he had lost all
but one of the large family party once assembled at
Mortlake. There is no mention of his wife, the busy,
shrewish Jane, or of Madinia and Frances, his younger
daughters, or of any of the sons but Arthur, whose con-
tinental travels are referred to. The one of Dee's
children who clung to him to the last was the once
mischievous, merry little Katharine, now a woman in
her thirtieth year. "We have no trace of her later
history, nor of that of any of the family except Arthur.
He was a physician of much celebrity, and practised
in London and Manchester, and afterwards for many
years in Moscow, where he was Court physician.
On his return he obtained the like appointment from
Charles L, arid again enjoyed a large practice. He
married a lady of good family in Lancashire, and left
six daughters, all married, and four sons, who were
merchants in different parts of Europe. It is recorded
that Arthur Dee, when himself an old man, spoke with
full trust in his father's goodness and truth, and
affirmed that he had, in his childhood, seen enough
of the result of his experiments to feel sure that he
had discovered many marvellous secrets, which he
was unable, through poverty, to make available.
It was in the old house at Mortlake, at the age of
eighty-one, that John Dee expired ; a worn-out and
THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. 155
disappointed man, the wreck of one who, fifty years
before, had been pre-eminent for learning and elo-
quence. Nothing but a careful study of his diary, and
nis "Compendious Eecitall," and of Casaubon's "True
Eelation," will convey an accurate idea of his deeply
interesting character ; and it would be difficult to rise
from such a perusal without a mournful recognition
of a noble life wasted. There was much of the child
about him, for he was tender-hearted and trustful,
quick to take offence, but quick to forgive ; absorbed
in his favourite schemes and pursuits, and eager for
approval of and sympathy with them. He may some-
times, under the pressure of great want, have resorted
to unworthy artifices, made the most of his good
deeds, and ignored the sins and follies into which his
ruling passion had led him. But we must not judge
him by the standard of our own day. In his age the
most devout and learned believed in the influence of
the planets upon human destinies, and in the possi-
bility of summoning spirits by certain incantations
and prayers. Half a century after his death Dee was
blamed, not for believing in spiritual manifestations,
but for so trusting in Kelly that the good angels left
him and devils appeared in the crystal, tempting both
to destruction.
There are two or three portraits of Dee in existence,
and from one of them an engraving has been taken.
It represents him in old age, but still vigorous and
alert, with a grand forehead and finely-formed face,
of which the intellectual refined expression is some-
what marred by a lurking cunning about the small
dark eyes.
CHAPTER IX.
" M1SERRIMUS."
Few strangers visit the cloisters of Worcester Cathe-
dral without pausing to look at the small flat grave-
stone whereon is the one word " Miserrirnus," and
when they pass on, it is often with minds haunted by
the brief pathos of that epitaph, and full of pitying
curiosity as to the history of "the most wretched
one " whose bones are crumbling below. County
biographies and guide-books have identified him as
the Rev. Thomas Morris, or Maurice, who died in
1748, at the age of eighty-eight years, and who had,
nearly fifty years earlier, been deprived of his prefer-
ment, the perpetual curacy of Claines, in consequence
of his refusal to take the oath of allegiance to William
and Mary. So much is fact, but there is fiction in
the further assertion of these histories that he was
dependent on the charity of the wealthy Jacobites,
and was in such extreme poverty in his old age that
he desired the misery occasioned by his destitution to
be recorded on his grave-stone. It has been generally
felt that this was an inadequate explanation, and that
some deeper cause than straitened means must have
wrought the old man's unhappiness; and so one gene-
ration after another has formed theories and hazarded
conjectures as to his life and character. He has been
supposed to be a sinner of the deepest d}^e, or the
victim of some appalling calamity. His imaginary
crimes and woes have been worked into a highly sen-
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 157
sational novel by the late Mr. F. M. Reynolds, bear-
ing his epitaph for title, and at least three sonnets
have been written about him, one by the late Poet
Laureate, Wordsworth. From old papers and from
traditions of Thomas Morris, yet fresh in the memory
of those who are descended from his brothers, we know
that neither destitution nor criminality caused his
sorrows. He was a well-conducted and reputable
man, possessing a comfortable private income, and
many relations for whom he cared and who were
warmly attached to him.
The family were in Upton towards the end of the
sixteenth century, but we know nothing except their
name, then spelt Maurice, until the tradition, mentioned
in Chapter IV., of the beautiful girl who was admired
by Cromwell, and who may have been the aunt of
Thomas Maurice. He was born about nine years
later, but no entry of his baptism is to be found in
the register. If his birth took place at the end of
1659, or early in 1660, there was little chance of its
being registered. The kingdom was changing rulers,
and Upton was changing rectors, and all matters
national and parochial were in a transition state. In
1670, a Thomas Morris, alias Woodward, described as
being a " chirurgeon of Motchlepatam, in the East
Indies," bequeathed £185 to purchase lands in Upton
for the benefit of the church and poor of the parish. It
is conjectured that this home-loving Indian surgeon was
of the same family; and his name-sake Thomas, then
a child of ten years old, may have derived from him
some of the little fortune which seems to have given
him a better education, and placed him on a higher
social level than his brothers. They were far above
the rank of the poor, but not touching that of the
gentry ; men who throve and prospered in their
different trades, but who seldom filled any parish
office, or were of any special importance among their
158
THE NATION IN THE PAKISH.
fellow-townsmen. Thomas went to one of the Uni-
versities, received Holy Orders, and became perpetual
curate of Claines, near Worcester, and, it is said, also
a minor canon of the cathedral. He was, according
to family tradition, "a beautiful preacher," and very
diligent among the poor. He was much noticed and
esteemed by the neighbouring gentry, and was likely
to receive some valuable preferment, when the Revo-
lution of 1688 ruined his fair prospects.
It was in the summer of 1090 that the oath of
allegiance to William III. and his Stuart queen was
tendered to all the prelates and clergy of England.
Their acceptance of it was made the* condition of
retaining see, or benefice, or cure ; and, according to
Lord Macaulay, but one-thirtieth refused the test.
And in this small minority there were few who had
not, two years earlier, indignantly protested against
James' oppressive measures towards the Universities
and the Bishops. But now that he was gone, his
tyranny was forgotten and his bigotry forgiven by the
most devoted Churchmen; to them he was "the Lord's
Anointed" and still their rightful king, and any other
monarch was a usurper and a rebel. Dr. Thomas,
Bishop of Worcester, was one of the eight prelates
who refused submission to the new rulers. He was
preparing to quit the palace, when his long-failing
strength gave way, and he died, still at home, in the
seventy-sixth year of his age. The Dean, Dr. Hickes,
also declined the test ; he was one of the ablest and
most learned of English divines, and he had a deep
private grievance to incline him against the banished
king. His brother was that John Hickes who was
executed, with hardly the pretence of a trial, by
Judge Jeffreys, after having been concealed for a few
hours in the house of Lady Lisle. For the offence of
having given him shelter the noble old woman was
tried, the jury were bullied into the verdict of
THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
159
"guilty," and she was beheaded. The influence of
the Bishop and Dean must have been strong with
some who were wavering in their allegiance in and
around the cathedral city. It has been mentioned
that four of the Non-juring clergy belonged to this
parish and neighbourhood ; and into what poverty
and contempt they fell, we have some idea from
history. Deprived of their homes and their work,
living, in most instances, on the alms of Jacobite
laymen, or reduced to the meanest offices, cast out,
as it were, both from Church and State, scoffed at
and suspected, they yet, in a lukewarm age, kept true
to their principles, though their constancy involved
life-long misery. They formed a Church among
themselves, and two of their most eminent members
were consecrated Bishops by Sancroft, the deprived
primate ; and wherever it was possible, in private
chapel or dwelling-house, the Non-juring clergy held
their services. Such congregations were illegal, but
were seldom punished. It suited better the policy
of the cautious Dutch king to consider these devoted
servants of his father-in-law as but one of the many
sects of Nonconformists then tolerated in the king-
dom. In his old age, Thomas Maurice constantly
refused to take any part in the services of the Church
or to preach, even when earnestly desired to do so.
It could only have been tolerated that he should
officiate publicly on condition of his naming George of
Hanover in prayers, where his lips would never utter
any name but those of the exiled princes of the
House of Stuart ; and perhaps this tradition refers to
some private services which his relations may have
had the opportunity of attending. Whether he
officiated at such services in his earlier manhood or
not, and whether he was or was not concerned in any
of those numerous Jacobite plots in which most of
the Non-jurors were sooner or later implicated, we
160 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
cannot now decide. His brother's children told to their
sons and daughters many a tale of their uncle's later
years, but very little about the time when they were
young children, and when Thomas Maurice had not
lived through a quarter of his half-century of trouble.
He probably spent much of his time in Upton, where he
had two houses and some fields, and where he was
always a welcome visitor to his nephew, and nieces.
He was a loving-natured, attractive man, "very
pleasant in his ways " with the children, taking an
interest in all their affairs, and assisting to pay for
the boys' education. He was " very good-looking "
as an old man, and must in his youth have been
remarkably handsome. He was never married, and
if there were any story of disappointed affection, any
romance concerning the love of his youth, it has not
come down to us. The summer of 1690 found him
in circumstances which might well give good hopes
of a happy and honourable future.
Energetic and popular, eloquent and accomplished,
with pleasant manners and a* handsome person, there
was nothing to prevent his prospering, could he only
have brought his conscience to take the required oath
of allegiance. "We do not know what disappointments
and mortifications, what slights and insults, accom-
panied or followed his withdrawal from Gaines. For
fifty years he was a priest without a parish, a devoted
Royalist, yet subject to an alien king. It would have
seemed intolerable could it have been foreseen, but
the Jacobites would not believe that the Stuarts were
banished for ever. They hoped that, as in the Civil
Wars of the last generation, there would be a " happy
restoration " before many years were passed, and
that, although the wary William of Orange could not
be displaced, the Princess Anne would decline the
crown which belonged to her father. The unfortunate
James died shortly before William, and his daughter
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 1G1
had little scruple about keeping a brother, whom she
scarcely knew, from a kingdom in which he had
never resided. At her death, the Jacobites were
not strong enough, or they had not sufficient unity,
to secure the throne. The anti-Romanist and anti-
despotic feeling was too powerful, and, with hardly
a struggle, the Elector of Hanover became king of
Great Britain and Ireland.
If the Jacobites had disliked the sovereignty of
"William, reigning by right of his sweet-mannered and
clever wife, and that of the kindly-natured Anne, a
Stuart also, much more did they loathe the monarch
who succeeded them. He was a thorough-bred German,
who could hardly speak English, who took no pains to
conceal his dislike to the country which had welcomed
him, and who seemed to have inherited, with his
claim to the throne, all the worst faults of the Stuarts
without any of their generosity or charm of person and
manner. Once during his reign, and again during that
of his son, the long- smouldering hatred to their rule
broke into the fierce blaze of rebellion. When the first
outbreak came Mr. Maurice, although of advanced age,
had good reason for hoping that, with the restoration of
the royal family, he should regain the clerical work and
honourable position in which his youth had delighted.
That rising in the North was put down with a strong-
hand, and with a loss to the Jacobites of their best
and noblest leaders. Twenty years more passed, and
hardly one without some rumour of a scheme for
bringing the Stuarts home. Hope grew more and
more strong in the hearts of their adherents, until it
burst into triumph when, in 1745, under the popular
young Chevalier, the Whig troops were defeated in
Scotland, and Charles Edward, with his gallant but
ill-disciplined arm} 7 , marched into England. Through-
out the country there prevailed in one party panic and
dismay, and in the other exulting joy. And to no
M
162 THE NATION IN THE PAEISH.
one could the tidings of that triumphant march have
brought more gladness than to Thomas Maurice. He
was living in a small house near Worcester Cathedral,
and seldom going out but for the daily service. He
was eighty-five years of age, and about the last of the
original Non-jurors. In his extreme old age, after
countless disappointments, the desire of his heart was
almost fulfilled. But another victory or two, but a few
days' march, and James III. would be proclaimed in
London ; " the King would enjoy his own again," and
he, aged and infirm though he was, might yet minister
in the congregation. There was but a brief period of
joy for him ; for the Jacobite army advanced no
further than Derby, and returned to Scotland dis-
pirited and broken. Then came the great defeat at
Culloden, the savage cruelties to those who were
conquered, and the long wanderings of Charles
Edward among the faithful Highlanders, ending, after
many months of peril, in his escape to France. Any
lingering hope cherished by his adherents was extin-
guished during the following year, when, by the treaty
of Aix-la-Chapelle, the King of France withdrew his aid
fromthe exiled princes, and their cause was lost for ever.
At the same time, with the extinction of the last
glimmer of hope for his beloved cause, life died out in
the old clergyman at Worcester. His niece Jane was
much with him, and so was his nephew William, from
whose grandchild we have learnt most of what we know
concerning that sad old age and death-bed. She remem-
bers hearing her mother repeat William Morris's
account of how the old man gave minute instructions
as to where his grave should be made, and how the six
girls who were to bear the pull should be dressed, " all
in white, with rosettes of a particular fashion,"* and
how it was by his express desire that the one word of
* Probably the " white cockade " of the Jacobites.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 163
epitaph was inscribed on his grave-stone. In his later
years he was "mostly nielanchoty," his relations say;
he w T as always pining about the state of religion, and
longing for the return of him whom he considered the
rightful king. His family had a high opinion of his
goodness and his claims on the Stuarts; and they have
passed on this little story about that time in their
uncle's life which preceded the last great Jacobite
rising. His old housekeeper, Kate, used often to say in
his nephew William's hearing, that " master would be
a Bishop yet;" and she was gently chidden by the
old man with the words, " Kate, Kate, thou talkest
treason." The phrase was quoted by those of the
next generation, who loved to talk of Thomas Maurice,
and their children caught up the words and made a
household proverb of them ; and when brother or
sister was saying that which might involve others in
disgrace or difficulty, "Kate, Kate, thou talkest
treason " was the half-playful threat or warning used.
That brief sentence, coming to us through children's
sports, but first spoken to check the perilous pre-
dictions of his affectionate old servant, seems the clue
to his misery. All that we hear about him gives the
idea of his being a fervent, enthusiastic, and keenly
sensitive man : loyal with a loyalty which to our age
seems incredible, unflinching in his self-sacrifice, yet
feeling acutely each pang which that sacrifice brought.
It had been very hard on him in the full vigour of his
youth to have every avenue of success closed against
him ; to be cut off from all the pursuits in which he
had delighted ; to be excluded from all clerical work
and usefulness. And if it were hard in youth, it did
not seem easier when year after year passed, and for
half a century there were but those few words of the
oath between him and prosperity. His mind was
naturally a morbid one, and in his forced inactivity it
preyed upon itself ; he thought of all he might be if
164 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
the Stuarts were restored, and dwelt with increasing
gloom on his own and the nation's wrongs. There
could be neither peace nor joy for him while the
detested House of Hanover ruled, and his loyalty was
counted treason. His one hope for fifty years was for
the Stuart restoration, and, when that hope was
shattered, he sank altogether. He was too feeble to
do more than affix his mark to his last will, of which
we have seen a copy ; but his mind was clear enough to
settle a long list of annuities and weekly payments to
be charged on his personal property and on the rents
of his houses and fields in Upton. One of his nieces
had married a Lingham, and to her and to her brother
Samuel he left £30 apiece. A niece who married Mr.
Hackett received only fifty shillings, and each of her
three children the same. His sister-in-law, Hum-
phrey Morris's widow, was to have an annuity of £6,
while his brother Luke's widow had a legacy of £50.
Seventeen other nephews and nieces received legacies,
varying in value from £1 Is. to £100. His servant,
Catherine Lewis, was to be paid 4s. weekly for the rest
of her life ; and all his " books, his table-cloth, and a
large pair of sheets " were left to his niece, Margaret
Beetenson. His niece, Jane Maurice, was to have all
the " messuages, lands, tenements, and heredita-
ments," which had belonged to her uncle in Upton ;
and she and Margaret Beetenson were to be residuary
legatees of the real and personal estate. The houses
in which Mr. Edwards and Mr. Hartland now live are
supposed to have been those to which the will refers ;
and it is conjectured that the house now known as
the King's Head was also his property. Considering
the money legacies, and the other bequests to Jane
Maurice, it is evident that the old man must have had
a very good income. The will is dated July 29, 1748,
and was proved in Doctors' Commons on October 8.
In the cathedral register there is this entry : —
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 165
" September 18, 1748.— The Reverend Mr. Thomas Morris
buried in the cloisters by Mr. Meadowbank."
Of the numerous relations whom he remembered in
his will, Thomas Morris, a linen-draper in London, is
the only offshoot bearing his name. The last Morris
of the family in Upton died in 1867. He was a car-
penter by trade, and a very well-mannered and
intelligent man, fond of dwelling on the connections
and doings of his family, and especially fond of speak-
ing about " Miserrimus." He had an old copy of the
" Book of Martyrs," said to have been the property of
Thomas Maurice, while the grand-child, or great-
grand-child, of one of his nieces possesses his Bible, a
massively-bound volume, with many quaint engravings.
Our best informant is. the grand-daughter of William
Morris. He was a man of some ability and learning,
and was for many years schoolmaster at Birts
Morton, where Mr. Huskisson, afterwards a Cabinet
Minister, was his pupil. He is believed to have had
many letters and papers belonging to his uncle, but
they all perished in a fire, which consumed the
schoolmaster's house. His daughter, born in 1768,
had learnt from him such love and reverence for
Thomas Maurice's memory, that she used to speak
constantly to her children about him, and order them
to remember, when they were grown up, that they
must never be in Worcester without " making time to
go and pay their respects to the stone in the cloisters."
There was a picture of Thomas Maurice, reported to
be a good likeness, in the possession of one of the
nephews of Jane Maurice, who inherited so much at
his death. It was put into the sale by his widow,
and bought by the late Mr. S. Kent, who gave it to a
friend near Worcester. This gentleman died some
years ago, and all efforts to discover the lost portrait
have proved unavailing.
All the property which he bequeathed in Upton has
166 THE NATION IN THE PA-RISH.
passed from his family. Even a sum of £100 left by
bis great-niece, Elizabeth Morris, to supply coal to "the
poor residing in the town"' was lost by the insolvency of
a trustee. Thirty or forty years ago there were those
still alive who could have given a much more complete
biography than we have been able to gather from the
little still remembered of Thomas Maurice. It is
enough to identify him, and to throw some light on
his story. There is nothing tragical or exciting in
it, and yet it is as mournful as if he had been the
perpetrator of some great crime, or the victim of some
romantic calamity. It was utter disappointment, the
heart-sickness of deferred hope for fifty-eight years,
which made him use his latest breath in dictating his
epitaph. Had there been a Stuart restoration, his
name might have been carved as that of honoured
priest or prelate ; but, as it was, there needed no
inscription to tell either the name or age of a worn-
out and despised old man ; there was only to be the one
word of sorrow. We wish that we knew more; that
some indication had come to us that the life which
had been so gentle, and charitable, and blameless,
was not in its ending utterly forlorn. We can but
hope that the shadow, which has rested on his grave-
stone, darkened only the earthly side of his life, and
that within there was a brighter gleam, of which it
concerned him not to speak to the world, but which,
notwithstanding trouble and disappointment, lighted
up his departure from it.
CHAPTER X.
THE CHOLERA.
Upton has been, in general, a healthy town, with a low
average of deaths. Of late years, the only period of
which we can judge fairly, it has been singularly free
from consumption, that scourge of most English
parishes, and many have died at a far advanced age.
But every now and then, twice or thrice in a century,
the general healthiness of Upton has been counter-
balanced by some severe epidemic. Although the
town is on gravel, and thus escapes the cold damp of
a clay soil, yet its low situation on the banks of the
Severn exposes it to the frequent mists and occasional
floods from the river, affords inadequate natural
drainage, and renders artificial drainage a difficult
and expensive matter.
There used to be many narrow alleys and airless
yards, and little was known formerly of the sanitary
precautions which alone can make dwellings in such
places clean and wholesome. We are told of an
open ditch down New- street, and earlier still there
is remembered a slimy pool in a field adjoining New-
street, called the " Goomstool," which received all
the drainage of that unlucky region, and diffused
horrible odours over it when westerly winds were
blowing. So, when some infectious disease came to
a town thus fitted to receive it by natural situation
and long-continued neglect, it did not hastily take
its departure, but lurked among the cottages for
168 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
many weeks and months, slaying numbers of men,
women, and little children, and leaving many
fresh graves in the churchyard, and a long list of
burials in that year's register.
We know little of the sanitary history of the parish
until we get within reach of the memories of our
old people ; and no special time of illness, except
fever and small-pox now and then, is remembered
until that visitation of fifty-two years ago, the terrible
cholera of 1832. For more than a year previously
there had been rumours of a new and deadly pesti-
lence, named "cholera morbus," which, having left its
birth-place in Eastern Asia, had travelled across that
continent into Southern Paissia, and had thence
extended itself through Turkey into Austria and
Italy.
Before the summer of 1831 was over, it had estab-
lished itself in nearly the whole of Northern Europe,
and it was extremely fatal in many of the coast and
river towns of Kussia and Holland. It was from one
of these that a vessel, with sick men on board, brought
the new plague to Sunderland. Englishmen had
been hoping that their island would escape, although
the continent was stricken, and that the sea would
be their safeguard against this most fearful invasion ;
and they could hardly believe for a while that the
disease was among them. For some weeks there
was little to excite alarm ; it did not spread rapidly
nor show itself in its full strength until the winter was
half over. Then it extended itself through the length
and breadth of England, gaining vigour with the in-
creasing warmth of the spring-time, and every week,
almost every day, fastening on some fresh held of
slaughter. It passed over some counties entirely,
and avoided some large towns. It touched some
villages or parishes lightly, whilst others, separated
by only a few fields, were heavily stricken. Hardly
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 169
a sea-port town escaped, and up almost every navi-
gable river it made its way. Some time in April it
was ravaging Bristol ; very soon there were cases at
Gloucester ; and then it was at Tewkesbury. Boat-
men coming up Severn from these towns brought
startling reports of the numbers taken ill, and their
strange sufferings ; and while some were doubting
the danger, but more dreading it, cholera had really
come and slain its first victim, a young man who was
ostler at one of the inns. He was little known or
cared for, and, although some who saw him at last
wondered at his strange looks and symptoms, his
death seems to have caused little alarm. For another
week the disease held off from Upton, although every
day brought worse and worse accounts of the havoc it
w^as working in other towns. There is a long narrow
passage called Lapstone-alley, running from Dunns-
lane to the banks of the Severn, and now, with
its flagged pavement and large- windowed houses, a
pleasant and cheerful place enough. In 1832 it was
unpaved and drainless ; and the fishermen, who mostly
dwelt in it, were in the habit of leaving all sorts
of evil- smelling refuse from their nets before the
entrance of the alley and their own doors. In one of
the cottages lived a young couple named Allen and
their six- weeks-old baby. The wife, Jane Allen, was a
bright, pleasant, little woman, and had been a nurse in
Worcester Infirmary, where, however, her experience
of sickness had not made her courageous. She was
especially nervous and timid about this new disease,
and " quite taken up " with hearing of the death of
some one she had known at Tewkesbury. It is be-
lieved that she had been ailing for some days, but
no one about her knew of what deadly significance
were those premonitory symptoms, until one July
evening, when she was seized with the cramps of
cholera. Those who were her neighbours remember
170 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
how they crowded into her room, and fled from it
again in horror at her distorted face and limhs, and
the pain which nothing could remove or even lessen.
They heard her cries almost ceaselessly through
the night, and at times they were so shrill and
piercing, that the further off neighbours in Dunns-
lane could not rest, but came to their doors and
windows, full of pity for the poor young creature, and
of terror at that which might be coming on them-
selves. Towards daybreak those agonising cries
ceased, and Jane Allen lay all blue and shrunken,
but free from pain, till death came some time in the
morning of July 24.
That afternoon, a strong vigorous hay-trusser,
William Halford, landed from Gloucester. He looked
much as usual, but complained of feeling not quite
well ; at midnight he became fearfully ill, and
although doctors were with him directly, and they
and his family knew what the symptoms meant, and
tried every means of relief, they could not save his
life, nor mitigate the tortures which, in this case, seem
to have been unusually severe. His son, a healthy
lad of seventeen or eighteen, was aiding doctors and
nurses with apparent self-possession, when he sud-
denly fell down in an epileptic fit, which lasted for
some hours. It was the first of a series of similar
attacks which, beginning thus in distress and horror
at his father's death-bed, became more frequent as
years passed on, until they destroyed reason altogether,
and he died in a lunatic asylum in 1867. His father's
sufferings did not last long ; he died in twelve hours
after the cramps had seized him, and was buried that
afternoon. Before the grave closed on him there was
another case. Susan Oakley was the daughter of
a widow living in Dunns-lane, and she Mas one of
the beauties of Upton. Her contemporaries never
mention her now without some admiring notice of
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 171
her " noble figure, her beautiful eyes, her colour just
like the rose," and the curls of her dark hair. She
was a dressmaker, quick and skilful in her work, and
" as good as she was pretty." She was helping her
mother in some fruit-preserving, and turned from it
for a while to go to the door as Jane Allen's funeral
passed by. She looked at it until it turned from the
lane towards the church, and then drew herself back
into the house, saying that she felt she was " struck."
In a few minutes cholera had her in its deadly grip,
and she was gone before morning. Her brother
John was returning in his barge from Gloucester
when the news of Susan's dangerous illness reached
him, and he hastened on, but did not reach home till
two hours after her funeral. He had been tenderly
fond of his beautiful sister, and was overpowered
with grief at her death ; he could not stay long to be
comforted by his good wife, and have his thoughts
diverted by the troop of children in their home near
the New-street turnpike. His barge was moving up
the stream, and he joined it at Severn Stoke, his wife
walking so far with him. In a few hours came the
news that he was taken ill in Worcester, and the poor
wife left home in the middle of the night, and walked
the ten miles before morning, only to find him sinking
in the last stage of cholera. He died in his boat,
and his wife, with the aid of one or two friends, had
a coffin bought and conveyed on board, for the idea
of his being buried away from home and kindred was
intolerable to her. The corpse was put into the
coffin, and " at the edge of night " they stole away,
and slipped down Severn towards home. But as they
voyaged on through the silence and darkness, illness,
brought on by fatigue and sorrow, seized the un-
happy widow, and before the barge reached Upton
she had prematurely given birth to a still-born child.
One of the boatmen had come on before to make
172 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
preparations, and some neighbours were waiting by
the trees above the bridge. The early twilight had
not passed into sunshine when the barge drew to
land, guided by one vigorous young boatman, and
bearing as its ghastly freight a dead man, and a
woman who looked almost as lifeless. " A sight to
break one's heart," we are told it was, to see the
husband and wife carried from the waterside to their
home. Oakley was buried next day, and his wife
hovered between life and death for many days, and
did not for some months recover from the effects of
that night's vovage.
Meanwhile, cases had appeared in several parts of
the town, although the disease all along was chiefly
fatal in Dunns-lane and the New-street, with the
alleys adjoining, these being the two neighbourhoods
which the deaths of Jane Allen and Halford had, as
it were, marked out as congenial haunts of pestilence.
Fear grew into panic, which weakened bodies as well
as minds, and made them all the readier to receive
the poison which was circulating in the atmosphere
around. As with Susan Oakley, so with many others,
illness seemed to come in some sudden shock of fear
or disgust, whilst others, with stouter hearts and
nerves, went from one horrible scene to another
without a qualm. By the end of the first week in
August there had been eighteen burials, and the
whole place seemed covered with the shadow of death.
There was the frequent carrying of coffins and passage
of funerals through the streets ; and the almost con-
stant tolling of the bell announcing the passing away
of another soul, or the conveyance of another corpse
to the church. People watched from afar that spot
to the north of the chancel where lime was shovelled
on to the cofiins, and the faces of the bearers and the
white robes of the clergyman looked " unked " in the
flickering glare of the pitch burned by the grave,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 173
when, as happened two or three times, the burial
took place after the long summer day had faded into
darkness. It was soon decided to forbid further
interments in the churchyards, and a piece of the
field called Parson's Field, about half a mile from
the town, was at once set aside and enclosed. This
was a necessary and wise arrangement ; but for
the time it deepened men's alarm and dismay.
The English poor love to treat their dead with a
certain respect and tenderness ; however scantily
they are clothed themselves, they will, if possible,
procure some decent garment for the corpse's last
attire, and beg or borrow some respectable mourning
in which relations or friends may follow it to the
grave. In the cholera time all these old customs
were set aside ; the last breath was hardly gasped
out before the coffin was sent for, and in a few
hours the corpse was on its way to the new grave-
yard. Sufficient bearers to carry it in the old decorous
fashion could not be procured in that time of panic,
and the coffin was put into a hand-cart, and pushed
along by some man who smoked constantly to keep
off infection, only pausing now and then to take a
draught from the flask of rum which was carried in
his pocket. One of the first persons buried in the
country was a woman by the name of Church, and
the man who conveyed the body remarked, as he
turned homewards, that " folk need not fret now
about there being never a Church in Parson's Field,
for he had put one in himself." He was attacked
that evening, and was almost the next corpse interred ;
his wife following him in a few hours. One or two
similar cases are mentioned in which men or women,
probably to disguise their fears, indulged in some such
ghastly jestings. It jarred too keenly on their
neighbours' overstrung nerves to be easily forgotten
or forgiven. Even now the poor foolish jokes are
174 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
related, with the swift punishment that followed them.
No such scoffer, it is said, escaped either death or
very dangerous illness, for " the Lord would not let
those alone who made fun of the cholera."
As the cases of cholera increased, and the fear and
peril grew from day to day, the means to counteract
them grew also. Clergy and laity met daily to plan
fresh precautions, and to grant relief in the most
liberal and abundant measure. In a few days a tem-
porary hospital was fitted up in some empt}^ Imildings
at the back of New-street, and thither, whenever
removal was possible, the sick were taken on the first
symptoms of illness. Abundant supplies of bedding,
food, and restoratives were sent, and one or other of
tiie medical men was constantly in attendance. But
the poor creatures who were brought in would have
been very badly off but for the untiring devotion of
some non-professional nurses. We have met with no
account of those fearful three weeks without hearing
one name mentioned with unfailing gratitude and
affection — the name of a young solicitor, the late Mr.
T. W. "Walker, who came at all hours of the day or
night, not only to the hospital, but into the miserable
cottage rooms, fetid with the sickening breath of the
pestilence. He stayed by wretched patients, whose
friends, worn out or terrified, could not do the requisite
nursing, and he shrank from no task, however
hazardous or loathsome, which could lessen pain or
give a chance of life. One can hardly tell how great
w;is the benefit of such courage; how it lifted people
up from their depths of gloom and misery to find that
one who had, as they say, " no call to be good to
them," came from pure kindliness, and passed un-
hurt through the worst dangers. There was a poor
woman who was as brave as he; neither before
nor after this period did she bear a good name, but
then she forgot all but womanly self-devotion and
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 175
tenderness, and was a most unwearied nurse, doing
that for which hardly any one else had sufficient nerve
or strength. There were one or two women besides,
quite young girls, who gave themselves to the perilous
tasks of tending the sick and laying out the dead ; and
one of whom, at least, was brought to the very brink
of the grave from an attack of cholera.
They needed no common courage who could brave
the disease then, when its strangeness doubled its
terrors. Other epidemics had prevailed once or twice
in every generation ; and small-pox may have been
more repulsive, and the suffering in scarlet fever
more protracted ; but people knew the symptoms of
these diseases, could apply their simple remedies to
them, and could speculate as to the number of days
which must pass before the turn for death or life
was reached. Now it was all new ; there was the
livid blueness of the skin, the visible shrinking and
wasting of the body, and, above all, the cramp,
which hideously distorted the face and limbs, and
caused the most exquisite agony. In some cases
there was added to all these symptoms raging deli-
rium, which lasted till the moment of death. No
wonder that people were frightened as they had never
been by sickness before, and all the more when every
remedy was tried and failed in turn; for here, as
throughout England, doctors were quite undecided as
to the nature of the disease and its proper treatment.
In almost every case large quantities of brandy were
given, and thus, occasionally, the fast-sinking strength
was revived when hope was nearly gone. In other
cases almost two pints were swallowed in a few
minutes without the slightest effect in deadening pain
or restoring circulation.
After the hospital was fitted up people were, in
most cases, saved from having the actual death in
their houses ; but there was, instead, the horror of
176 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
seeing those who were taken ill borne through the
streets. One poor girl is mentioned who was car-
ried by in a cart, so contorted by cramp that one knee
was drawn up to the ear, and the body so unnaturally
twisted that " she was in no form like a human being."
In the night the sick could be taken away unseen ;
but all say that the nights were harder to bear and
worse than the day. That August set in with intense
heat and close sultriness ; frequent bluish mists hang
over the meadows at twilight, the nights were dark
and chilly, and there was seldom any freshness in the
air except at early morning, when occasionally sun-
rise brought a pleasant breeze. Those who lived in
the parts of the town which suffered most had sel-
dom undisturbed sleep through a night. They were
awakened, sooner or later, by the hasty opening of
door or window, and frightened voices calling help-
ful neighbours to aid them with some one who was
"took bad." Then there would be the hurried steps
running to fetch the doctor, and very soon the shrill
cries of pain would sound from the house, mingled,
perhaps, with the wailing of poor little children,
awakened out of their sleep to find the terrible cholera
among them.
The tolling of the bell was stopped in a few days
by the rector's orders. It was found not only that
the healthy were depressed by it, but that the sick,
who heard its mournful clang, and thus learnt that
cholera had taken another victim, at once lost hope,
and with hope lost strength to endure the suffering
and the clanger. About the same time measures were
taken to fit up a sort of hospital in a barn on Tunnel
Hill, and to erect tents and sheds on Hook Common
fur those remaining in houses w r here death had been.
Prom the day that these were used the plague was
Btayed. Those who came terrified and ailing, and
who might soon have sickened in their unwholesome
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 177
cottages, grew strong with the liberal diet allowed
them, and fresh and bright with the pure breezes of
the beautiful common, where nothing checks the free
circulation of air between Bredon and the Malverns.
And in the town matters were mending too. Although
in the lower part of New-street and Lapstone-alley
a strange dreariness and silence prevailed, since
almost every door was locked, and every shutter
closed, and hardly a creature passed by, it was better
so than when there had been the frequent cases of
illness, and the constant dread of fresh calamities.
There were three deaths on August 15th, and the
next clay only two ; one an infant, the other a poor
Woman, who had lost her husband and four children
in a week. The following day passed without a
funeral, although there were many cases of illness.
On the 18th a man died, and then there were two days
without a death, and the sick began rapidly to recover.
One more died, and then for a week cholera relaxed
its grip, and finally passed away, taking one little
child, on the 27th, as its last victim. From Jane
Allen's death to August 20th was little more than
three weeks, and in that time" thirty-six deaths were
entered in the church register, beside those of one or
two persons who were buried in the Baptist grave-
yard, and a couple more which are mentioned in a
private list kept at the time. The general impression
is that the number was between forty and fifty ; and
it is quite possible, when funerals were so frequent
and so hasty, that some names of children, perhaps
unbaptized infants, may have been omitted. But
even the recorded number is a very large one to have
been taken from a town of 1,900 inhabitants in three
weeks. We can form no idea as to the number of
cases of cholera ; at first very few recovered, while
during the last ten days many rallied after extreme
suffering, and there were numerous slight cases.
N
178 THE NATION IN THE PARISH."
Throughout, the disease in Upton was of a malignant
character, more horrible in its symptoms and more rapid
in its destruction than in any other Worcestershire town.
The mortality was not so large in proportion to the
population as in some of the closely-inhabited manu-
facturing parishes ; but here each case was known
throughout the town, and each death was more or less
a grief to numbers of old friends, or neighbours, or
relations.
There are many who were young married people,
or girls and lads, at that dismal time, and who de-
scribe it as if it had happened but a year ago. Of the
general progress of the disease they knew little or
nothing, but they tell us of what they themselves saw
aud suffered so graphically, that we seem to be taken
back fifty-two years, and to know those long-dead
towns-people, and feel an intense pity for some
specially pathetic cases. We are shown the house
and room where this or that person died, and are told
the while sundry particulars about him or her : at
what hour the cramps came on, what doctor was sent
for, what remedies were tried ; and, beside this, we
always have some quaint description of the difficulty
in getting the hot bath or warm flannels, or of the
room in which the poor sufferer lay as "an onac-
countable tidy place," or " a forlorn room, with a poor
mullock of a bed.'* And there is often added some
mention of personal appearance or way of speaking,
or some long-disused nickname. Thus, we almost
seem to see one poor young woman, who died under
most painful circumstances, as she lay at the last,
" with the great drops of sweat standing like beads
on her poor, pinched-up face ; and her hair, as black
as ever was a sloe, all undone and streaming over the
pillow."
Then there was an elderly man, who all his life had
been a fisherman, and who, in death, " was hanker-
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 179
ing after Severn," so that, when nearly gone, he
crawled out of bed and tried to get on some of his
clothes, muttering the while that he must go to his
fishing. His terrified wife called in a neighbour, one
of the courageous young nurses mentioned before, and
they tried to lift him into bed again. But his weight
was too much for their united strength, and so, while
the worn-out and distracted wife wailed and mourned,
the girl sat down, supporting the grey head of the
dying man against her knee. In a few minutes more,
still murmuring that it was time for his fishing, with
his last thought on the river by which he had lived
and toiled, the poor old fisherman drew his last breath
and lay dead on the floor.
It is mentioned, as a sign of the gloom and alarm
which hung over the town, that for many days no
men stood on the bridge. To anyone who knows
Upton, and how our " bargees " congregate on the
bridge from early morning till darkness interrupts
their conferences, this avoiding of their usual place of
resort shows, more than anything else, what a shock
to their ordinary habits, what a break in their rough
lives, was caused by that time of pestilence. And it
is always spoken of now with solemnity and a certain
awe, as of some special judgment, and no ordinary
illness.
Much good came to the town from the terror of
that period. Not only was there a kindlier feeling
between rich and poor, drawn together as they were
by the liberality and consideration shown on the one
hand, and the suffering and hardship borne on the
other ; but there was also such a desire to improve
and purify the place as had never been displayed
before. Throughout Upton the poorer houses were
whitewashed and repainted, and in the more unhealthy
parts entirely fresh drainage was effected. Partly
owing to this, with the exception of a sickly period
180 THE NATION IN* THE PAEI5H.
now and then, when there were a few deaths from
.-iUiall-pox or fever, Upton had a very low rate of
moitality for more than thirty years. Perhaps the
towns-people had grown careless from this long im-
munity, for when, in 1864, scarlet fever appeared
amongst us, it spread with alarming rapidity, and many
parts of the town were found to be in a very bad state.
>< .mething was done that autumn in the way of puri-
fying, but it was not until the following year, when
-mall-pox succeeded fever and attacked numbers of
the poor and a few of the rich, that any considerable
sanitary reform took place. Since then, any epidemic
which has appeared has taken no hold upon the town,
but has exhausted itself in a small number of cases.
With a view, however, to avert possible danger in the
future, a *- Parochial Committee " was appointed in
1883 by the Rural Sanitary Authority, under the
Public Health Act of 1875, and, additional powers
under that Act having been obtained, a large outlay
has been made upon the cleansing and ventilating of
drains and other sanitary improvements.
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X
D
CHAPTER XI.
OUR GHOST.
A great many people take delight in telling and
hearing ghost stories, but very few have any idea how
valuable these tales may be from a historical point of
view. "We have no desire to discuss the vexed question
as to whether it is possible or impossible for the
spirits of the departed to make themselves seen and
heard by those still living on the earth. But it will
generally be found that there is a core of fact beneath
the exaggerations of an ordinary ghost story. When
we get beyond the traditional part, we arrive at the
crime, or tragedy, or bit of biography on which the
tale was founded ; but this is only to be attained by
much patient hearing of old folk's tales and diligent
searching of contemporary records. There could
hardly be a better instance of the history which may
be gathered from the traditions of the people than
the story of Thomas Bound. We first heard of him
twenty years ago as a grim presence, supposed to
make the Kectory-lane unsafe for timid people on
dark nights. There was so much of picturesque
detail in the accounts given us of Captain Bound's
proceedings, both while he was in the flesh and even
since his death, that we set to work to gather informa-
tion about him from the registers and parish papers.
We will first give the traditional Thomas Bound, as
far as possible, in the words of the narrators. It is
182 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
well to mention that these old people had no idea of
any written evidence concerning him, nor of the date
of his life on earth ; on the latter point they would
only say, they "reckoned it was a very long time
afore Mr. Baines," this being, as stated elsewhere,
their method of designating any pre-historic period.
"Captain Bound was a desperately wicked man,
very cruel, and covetous, and hard to the poor. He
had some land in the Ham, and he used to ride down
there on a grey horse, when folk were not about to
see him, and remove the land-marks, so as to get
more ground for his self. He was married to three
wives, but the poor creatures had a hard time of it,
and he made away with two on 'em. He lived for a
good bit at Soley's orchard, and he had some fields
nigh the house, but he wanted more. There was an
old lady who lived at Southend, and owned the farm,
and it ought to have come after her to some relations
who were in poor circumstances. When she was
a-dying Captain Bound was there, and he watched
his chance, and as soon as she died he put a pen into
the hand of the corpse, and guided it so as her should
sign a will which left all to him. Then he went and
took up his abode at Southend ; but the old lady's
ghost appeared there very soon, and, what with that
and, it may be, things going contrary, he grew so
miserable that he could not wait for the Lord to send
him death, but he went and drowned his self in the
pool by the Causeway (the raised path which connects
the Rectory-lane and Southend)." So far for the tra-
ditional hero ; we will now give an account of him
according to facts. Thomas Bound was one of an old
Upton family, probably descended from Philip le
Bond, the emancipated serf mentioned in the tax-
gatherer's roll of the fourteenth century. The Bounds
were people of importance in the parish, and, as far
as we know, inclined to the Puritan side in religion
THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. 183'
and politics.* " Captain Bound " was born some time
in the reign of James I. ; his father, another Thomas
Bound, was churchwarden once or twice soon after
Mr. Woodforde came to Upton, and his too celebrated
son held the same office in 1640 and 1641. His
writing is remarkably clear and good, the elaborate
curves and twists of the capitals being made with great
firmness and skill. He was married thrice : the first
time he went courting to Longdon, and married
Mary, the daughter of Mr. Cook, of Chambers Court,
a gentleman of good position and fortune ; but she
died in the following year, four days after her two-
months-old baby. At this time he had evidently
taken a decided part in politics, and his title of Cap-
tain points either to his having held a commission in
the army of the Parliament, or, which is more likely,
to his being Captain of an Upton volunteer corps
which fought on the same side. He had no leisure
to marry again until the war was over, in 1646. Then
he again rode over the heath to Longdon, and
succeeded in winning another Mary, the daughter of
Mr. Higgins. She and her baby died within ten days
of each other, in the April of the following year ; and
it says something for the courage of the maidens
of that era that he found a third wife ten months
later. Her name was Margaret Bath erne, and she
had a much longer term of married life. Of her five
children two died in infancy, and she followed them
when her youngest was but three months old. In
ancient deeds and papers there are several notices of
the way in which Captain Bound added "house to
house, and field to field," including the farm-house of
Southend, which he obtained on a lease from Mr.
* Some time before the Civil War began, a work on "The
True Doctrine of the Sabbath," by Dr. Philip Bovmd, had stirred
up the Sabbatarian controversy. He was probably of the same
amily as the Bounds of Upton.
184 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Bromley, and also some meadows w liicli lie bought
near the Causeway.
Tradition does not fully account for Thomas Bound
having been so greatly feared and detested, but it
seems likely that he headed the fanatical party in the
parish which succeeded in turning out Mr. Woodforde
and Mr. Warrene. It is still more likely that it was
he who, when Upton was occupied by the King's troops
in 1651, arranged the very clever scheme by which
the bridge and church were captured. The last seven
years of his life must have been very uncomfortable,
as all services were prohibited but those of the Church
of England ; and, unable to hold any public office,
unless he took certain oaths and received the Holy
Communion, he was cut off from all power in the
parish and neighbourhood. Probably some of the
quarrels of those latter days helped to deepen his
unpopularity. A curious tradition belongs to the
supposed manner of his death. It is asserted that, on
an evening quite at the end of July, some persons have
been fortunate enough to meet in Minns-lane the
shadowy funeral of the Captain going from the town to
the Causeway pool. One lady still living declares
that, in her childhood, she met this phantom array, a
coffin covered with a black pall, and three or four
men following in black cloaks ; that she thought it
was an ordinary funeral, and only marvelled that it
should be going from, instead of towards, the church.
The register, while it contradicts the assertion that
the Captain did not receive Christian burial, verifies
the date of his death by recording his funeral on
August 1. So far, history and tradition have only
concerned themselves with the doings of Thomas
Bound in his lifetime, but it was after his death that
he became the terror of the neighbourhood. The
legends about him are very graphic and vivid ; they
tell how his awful presence haunted Soley's orchard
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 185
and Southend, his two homes, and the lands and
fields which had best known him in life, and how
people became so scared and terrified that they per-
suaded the minister to "lay" him under the great
stone which formed part of the little bridge by the
pool. According to the legend, "the minister said
some prayers, and, when he had done, an inch of
lighted candle was thrown into the pond, and as it
dropped into the water, the spirit was ordered to keep
quiet under the stone till that candle was lighted
again. It was confidently expected that this strange
spell would quiet him altogether, but the charm was
too weak for so turbulent a ghost. He was soon
"loose again," and, to quote verbatim from a very
pleasant informant, " grew that strong and forward,
that he used to ride along the lane on his grey horse
in the broad daylight. Folk were so terrified and put
about, that they could not bear it any longer ; and so
three parsons were had to lay him." At Soley's
orchard he had been especially troublesome, and the
second attempt at laying him was made in the cellar
of that house. One sees through these fantastic tradi-
tions some traces of the ancient forms of exorcism
used against evil spirits and apparitions in far distant
times. The three parsons stood holding hands in a
ring, using their mysterious adjurations, but, to quote
again an old friend, " one of them was a bit careless,
and had his foot outside the ring, and that gave the
spirit power : and all at once there was a whiz, and
somewhat went by and hit him on the cheek, so that
the whisker never grew on it, no, not to his dying day.
Bat they managed to settle the Captain, and laid him
that deep in the Red Sea that some folk say he has
never been seen since." There are a few old people
still left who have doubts as to the security of that Red
Sea bondage. They affirm that their fathers and
mothers used to relate how the spectral form of the
186 THE NATION IN THE PAKISH.
Captain was wont to appear sitting on the stone by
the Causeway, or riding up the Rectory-lane on his
white horse, with the chain he used in his nefarious
land-measuring clanking behind him. Two old people
born towards the end of the last century gave other
thrilling experiences : one recounted her mother's
attempt in girlhood to pick sticks on the west side of
the Rectory-lane ; she could do it right enough on the
Rector's side, but when she tried to pull them from
the opposite hedge (formerly the Bound property), she
" could find of the Captain a-following after her, and he
made her drop the sticks one by one, until she had
got right away from his land." Mr. Clarke, who died in
1873 at the age of ninety-two, used to describe his
childish terror when gathering darkness overtook him
as he was going along the Causeway from school in
Upton to his home at Southend. He used to fly in
alarm, never looking behind him, for fear he should
see the awful figure sitting upon what is always called
" Captain Bound's stone." The name of a heroic
carpenter, Benjamin Lane, is recorded as having per-
formed an almost incredible feat of valour. The
cellar at Soley's orchard was bricked up after " the
laying," and it was supposed that the dreaded ghost
had some awful power over it. A little dog of Lane's
crept in through an aperture, and he, unwilling to
lose his favourite, enlarged the opening, and so got
safely in and out again. His friends admired, but
blamed, his courage. " 'Twould have been better to
let the animal starve than risk disturbing the Cap-
tain." Some asserted that the apparition was occa-
sionally seen in the house at the Cross, formerly
inhabited I)}' his respectable cousins, the Philip Bounds.
Also he was seen at early morning on the banks of
Severn, to the great terror of the fishermen. One
aged lady mentioned, as a rumour current in her
young days, that in a room at Soley's orchard there
ZJ.^f
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 187
had been seen the spectral forms of three women, the
two Marys and the Margaret, whose lives had been
shortened or embittered by his cruelty. Close to
Soley's orchard there is the trunk of an old elm, which
was a vigorous young tree when the Bounds lived
beside it. Its shadow must have fallen at even
upon the picturesque white gable, with its broad, black
timbers and fertile garden, the supposed scene of so
much crime and misery. If the old tree could but
find a voice we should know the rights of that story,
and learn whether the two Mary Bounds died by
murder or by mischance, and whether Margaret was
ill-used and oppressed, or lived a contented wife and
mother ; we should know, too, whether her little
children crept about the garden in terror of the
father's step and voice, or ran merrily to meet him
when he came home. But the only voices which speak
about that home come to us through few and scanty
records and vague and wild traditions, and from them
we must form an estimate of the character of Thomas
Bound. He was so dreaded and hated by his neigh-
bours that they could not let his evil deeds rest, but
transmitted them to memory, embellished by ghostly
terrors, to the little children at their fire-sides ; and
these, when parents and grand-parents themselves,
passed on the tales, with less of fact and more of fic-
tion, to successive generations. The railway has cut
through what was formerly his garden, and skirts the
once shady lane down which his grey horse bore him
to those acts of removing land-marks, for which he is
held in such abiding execration. His house at South-
end is pulled down, and Soley's orchard has been so
far modernised as to have lost much of its old beauty
and picturesqueness. Our buildings and our politics,
our customs and our fashions, are all changed since
1667 ; but the remembrance of this middle-class,
middle-aged Puritan remains unaltered.
188 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
He was no commonplace man who can thus be
seen, though but as a dim and shadowy image, through
the mists of more than two centuries. He so crushed
down opposition that men were afraid to resist him,
until his death set their tongues free to revile him as
much as they liked. There was a certain grim plea-
sure in picturing their tyrant as a miserable ghost,
shivering on a wayside stone, or roaming about the
lanes and fields where they had met or avoided meet-
ing him. All the tales which superstition and fear
have told of him seem to indicate the same sort of
character. A man of little conscience and indomitable
will, hard, unscrupulous, and obstinate, he seems to
have burnt his memory, as it were, with so black a
scar into the mind of the parish that, a hundred and
fifty years after his death, people believed in the
power of his malignity and craftiness to work them
harm.
The weird notion that his funeral may still be seen
in the earlier part of a summer night, the cloaked
mourners moving along and up-bearing the heavy pall,
between the high hedges of the ancient road, must
have come from the belief that he was refused
Christian burial. He was not, however, interred near
the little Causeway pool, in which he is supposed to
have drowned himself, but his body was laid in, or
near, the chancel of the church. In making a vault
about fifty years ago for one of the Beale family, the
masons first found the statue of De Boteler, and
beneath it the grave-stone of Captain Thomas Bound.
The bones of the grim Puritan were cast forth to
make room for those of Mr. Beale, and the stone was
subsequently replaced in the floor of the church, near
the east end, where it may still be seen. Upton
people cared nothing for the noble old " Knight of the
J I oly Voyage," but were deeply interested in gazing
at the remains of the " Captain," whose phantom was
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 189
still a dread to them. Probably many households
took possession of a bone or two, but we only know
the fate of the skull : it was taken by a tradesman, who
occupied the house at the Cross formerly owned by
the Philip Bounds, and by him it was turned into a
drinking cup, and was occasionally used at supper
parties.
CHAPTER XII.
MISCELLANEOUS.
The parish of Upton-on- Severn is, with the exception
of some few acres, situated on the west bank of its
river. The town is at one corner, as it were, of the
parish. Hanley and Ripple come to within five
hundred yards of the bridge, but it is a three mile
walk thence to the boundary between Upton and
Welland at Gilver-lane, and nearly as far to the
Anchor Inn, where we pass into another part of
Welland. Longdon comes to within a mile and a half
of the town, and Holdfast is nearer still, and claims
part of the gardens and shrubberies that encompass
Ham Court.
At the last census the population of the parish was
2,490. Of these about 1,500 reside in the town, while
the remainder are scattered over the large country
districts. There is no village, and hardly anything
that can be called a hamlet, for there are not more
than a dozen cottages in the largest cluster. Our
country people live in tiny groups of whitewashed
houses, nestling beneath the shadow of elm and pear
trees, or in unpicturesque, though comfortable, red-
brick dwellings skirting the highways across the
recently enclosed commons. In the reign of Henry
VIII., Leland, as quoted by Nash, described Upton as
"a townlet on the western ripe of Severn." The
quaint old traveller's term is as applicable now as it
was then. It is above the rank of a village, possessing
as it does a town-hall and petty-sessions, as well as a
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 191
weekly market and an occasional fair, although both
market and fair are, unfortunately, of the minutest
possible description. It can hardly vie with the
borough or manufacturing towns of Worcestershire,
yet some of them were mere hamlets when Leland
rode through our streets. They have expanded into
greatness, while Upton, a "townlet " in the days of
the Tudors, is a "townlet" still, but little changed in
form and size, although shrunk in importance during
three hundred years.
The alteration of the Tewkesbury and Worcester
roads, the building of bridges between this and
Gloucester, the use of steam-tugs on the river, and to
some extent the Tewkesbury and Malvern Railway,
have combined to divert the stream of business from
Upton.
Our chief streets bore the same names in the reign
of Elizabeth that they bear now. There is no house
which is more than three hundred years old existing
at present, but within this century many ancient
dwellings have been pulled down. The Gate House,
which stood near Fisher-row, and some cottages
within the churchyard must have been erected before
the Wars of the Eoses.
It is said that our earliest recollections are gener-
ally of some great terror or pain which distressed our
childhood. So in Upton, the names of " Stocks-yatt-
lane," and the " Goom-stOol Cottages" carry us back
to scenes of disgrace and misery in times far distant
from our own. There must have been some sort of
entrance or gateway to "the town where the lane now
is which bears the former title, and here were the
stocks, with their then usual accompaniment, the
pillory. In modern times the stocks were in the
Pig Market, and the punishment had become more
ludicrous than painful. A couple of hundred years
earlier it was no light matter for thief or Vagabond to
192 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
suffer durance at the Stocks-yatt for several hours,
with neck, and arms, and legs miserably cramped,
while any idler or enemy could throw unsavoury
missiles at the defenceless face. The other name
recalls a far more degrading punishment, that of the
ancient Cucking-stool, or, as it was called in Worces-
tershire, the Goom-stool or Gum-stool. Since parish
accounts existed, some cottages at the bottom of
New-street have been styled the "Goom-stool
Houses," but they were taken down in 1882, as unlit
for human habitation. A pool close by, which has
been filled up only of late years, was the " Goom-
stool " pond, the scene, doubtless, of much mob-justice
and great misery. An illustration shows the instru-
ment of punishment, which was in frequent use for
vixens and slanderers until the beginning or middle of
the eighteenth century. The poor wretch was strapped
into the chair at one -end of a long beam, which was
worked by a lever, so that she could be ducked into
the water over and over again, while her tormentors
stood on dry land. When these cottages were new,
their inhabitants must have had a good view of these
scenes of riotous vengeance ; perhaps their doors may
have been opened to receive the wretched woman when
she crawled away from her degrading punishment, half
drowned, and too much exhausted and terrified to
reach her own home.
Another obsolete penalty is remembered by persons
still alive. A gipsy was "whipped at a cart's tail
through the town " some seventy years since. He
had been convicted of stealing bacon ; but one
of our informants considered that the flogging was
nothing very terrible. " The man, he screeched
pretty well, but I watched him, and 'twas all
make-believe; I'd have had as much, and welcome,
if any man would have given me a pint of ale
afterwards." -
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THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 193
The Severn, or, as all true Uptonians would say,
Severn, occasionally inflicts great damage on the
town, to counterbalance in some degree the constant
benefits derived from its neighbourhood. Although the
river trade is far less than it used to be, the fortunes
of Upton are still influenced by the state of the water.
In dry seasons the river is too low for the salmon to
pass the weirs at Gloucester and Tewkesbury, and
spring floods put a stop to the fishing at the most
profitable season. A high flood fertilises the water-
side meadows by the deposit of rich mud which it
leaves behind, but in other ways it is very mischievous.
The floods begin gradually ; the hitherto invisible
ditches in the Ham appear as intersecting watery
lines, and in two or three days the huge green meadow
is turned into a muddy lake, out of which trees and
hedge-rows peer dismally. It seems for a time to
have nothing to do with Severn, which is rolling down
an hourly-increasing body of water, but is separated
from the Ham by so high a bank that it is only the
mightiest flood which can cover it altogether. There
are, however, lower places here and there, and by
these the swollen river at length finds an outlet, and
sweeps along, a turbid, but majestic stream, full half
a mile broad, and ten or twelve feet deep, over the
level meadows. In the town, the water creeps up,
inch by inch, until in one cottage after another the
floors are covered, and still the yellow stream rises,
until it puts out the fires and mounts half-way up the
staircases. The cottages at the bottom of New-street,
and those on the Quay, are the first to suffer, but in
the flood of 1852 the water was up to the corner of
Dunns-lane and High-street, and half-way up New-
street. Men boated to the bar of the Star Hotel ; Upton
was, for the time, an island ; and, in houses which
had been thought to be out of flood's way, the muddy
waves surged against the window-sills, filled the
o
194 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
cellars, and bubbled up through the stones of the
kitchen floors. This flood, which destroyed the old
bridge, rose with extraordinary rapidity. A woman
who lived in one of the " Goom-stool " cottages assured
us that " the water was but got to a couple of doors off
when I went to the bakehouse and to do some arrands ;
they said on the bridge as Severn was coming on
onaccountable, and I ran home, and to be sure he
was half-way up the kitchen, and my chayney orna-
ments was swum off the dresser into the back yard."
A great flood is a fine sight, and would be an
enjoyable one but for the present discomfort caused
by the invading waters, and the legacy of sickness
which they leave behind. The walls and floors of the
inundated houses are not thoroughly dry for months,
and the inhabitants suffer from severe coughs and
inflammatory attacks, or, perhaps, life-long recurrence
of rheumatism or sciatica. The flood of February,
1881, was the highest since that of November, 1852,
which seems to have been unsurpassed since that of
1770, when the Severn probably attained a greater
height than it had done for three centuries. At that
period, during the terrible inundation known to history
as " Buckingham's Flood," Holinshed asserts that
whole villages were flooded, scores of human beings
were drowned, and infants were seen floating in their
cradles over the submerged fields.
Four lives have been lost in this immediate neigh-
bourhood by floods during the present century. Many
years ago, a Mr. Fothergill, a clergyman, who lived at
Pool House, was returning from performing the service
at Longdon. It was after dark, and the water was over
the Hanley road. He was within a few yards of
home when his horse stumbled into a disused saw-
pit, and there both rider and steed were drowned.
The melting of the deepest snow known for many
years caused a very high flood in February, 1881.
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Three men-servants belonging to the Khydd Court, in
returning from Upton across the flooded meadows,
were drowned by the upsetting of the boat.
Our river has always taken a heavy toll of the
population of Upton. Whenever the registers have
mentioned violent or accidental deaths, the entry,
" Drowned in Severn," occurs frequently. There are
few families among the poor which cannot recall the
loss of a relation, or, it may be, one or two, from some
false step on a barge or on the river's bank, or from
cramp or exhaustion while bathing. Old people tell
us of the upsetting of a pleasure boat, by which five
. men perished, and of "the unkedest sight which the
men on the bridge can see," viz., the swollen, disfigured
corpse of some long-drowned man who has been
missing for weeks, in village or town far away up the
river.
There has been in Upton a remarkable absence of
great crimes, such as murder or burglary attended
with violence. There have been one or two cases in
which foul play was suspected, and many of savage
quarrelling and of pilfering. But, as far as we can
learn, Upton has not contributed any atrocious
criminal to swell the list of those who figure in the
causes cdlebres of Worcestershire ; and none of
our people have suffered capital punishment since the
days when, the parish being part of Malvern Chase,
doubtless many an Upton man expiated his offence
against forest law upon the gallows on the hills.
There may have been many incidents which were
full of pathos and horror to those who saw them, and
which would, did we know them, invest many an old
house and many a country lane with unexpected in-
terest. But with the exception of Captain Bound,
who has been detested for two hundred years, local
tradition does not stretch further than two or three
generations. An old boatman defined the grasp of
19G THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
parochial memory by thus prefacing some tale : " I
heard it from my father, and he said as how, when
he were a little lad, old Bill So-and-so told he." The
poor have generally a chronology founded on some
event in their families, as, " That was when my
father bought me a sweet pretty gownd with blue
roses on him, and 'twas the first as I had made long; "
or, " that ere happened when our John, him as is
married up the country, was about cutting his first
tooth." It was in that vague era known as " afore
Mr. Baines," that a suicide is said to have occurred
in the pretty lane which has since borne the name of
" Cut-throat." To the same period may be assigned
the story of a girl's death not very far from this lane.
She was sitting at her knitting on the branch of a
tree which overhung a small, deep pool by the road-
side. The ball of worsted rolled from her lap, and,
in trying to recover it, she slipped into the water and
was drowned. The double tragedy which gave an evil
fame to Tiltridge is of more recent date, although now
there are only a few grass-covered ruins and some
" garden flowers grown wild," to show where once was
a substantial house in a lovely situation. The farmer
who rented this and an adjoining farm, nearly a
century ago, was a harsh and violent-tempered man.
He and his wife lived on very bad terms with each
other, and she was seen several times in the garden
of this house crying bitterly, and with her apron
thrown over her shoulders to hide the marks of his
blows. One day she was found drowned in the well,
which was an exceedingly deep one. AVhen the
corpse was drawn up into the daylight one of the
shoulders was swollen and livid, and the neighbours
conjectured that some recent cruelty had driven her
in a frenzy of terror or despair to self-murder.
Public opinion excused her madness, and laid the
blame on her husband, who was supposed, thence-
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 197
forth, to be liable to " visitings " from his dead wife.
Passers-by declared that she could be seen hovering
over the well or about the garden paths, and always
with "the apron lapped round her poor shoulder as
when she was drowned." The old house was, after a
time, forsaken, and fell into decay, but while part of
it was yet standing it was the scene of another
tragedy. A wretched girl, who feared disgrace more
than the supposed horrors of the spot, found shelter
within its crumbling walls and a burial-place in the
old well for her new-born infant. Thenceforth a deeper
shadow hung over the ruins ; fifty years ago few
people would have ventured within them after night-
fall, but now both house and tradition have almost
disappeared, and only a few old people can recall the
particulars of the gloomy old story.
One more sensational story is remembered. A
young man, who worked for the occupier of Soley's
Orchard, became attached to a girl who was a servant
in the house. Their history must be given as it was
told to us, in words and phrases which were common
enough half a century since, but which are fast dying
out before the advance of the conventional English of
education. " This girl was a very pretty girl. She'd
the beautifullest colour, and eyes just like a hawk's.
She and the young fellow kept company, and there
was talk of their being soon married. But keeping
company is a cazu'lty thing, and somehow they
dropped out. It was only a bit of a quarrel, but he
got quite angry over it, and determined to do for
both of 'em. He got some poison, and put half in her
mug of beer and half in his'n. A young chap who
worked along with her thought there was something
curious agate, and, on the sly, poured the stuff away
out of the girl's mug, and gave her some wholesome
liquor. The other fellow never guessed at this, so he
watched the young woman have her supper, and he
198 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
took his'n, and started to his home up on Longdon
Heath. But the poison soon overcame him, and he
got into a shed which was kept fettled for the colts,
and laid there in the biggest agony. Early in the
morning a woman who was passing heard a dismal
groaning, but durst not go to the shed, because it was
in Captain Bound's neighbourhood. So she fetched
some of the Ham Court servants to go along, and they
found him close upon death, and he was gone very
soon. He did not know but what the girl was done
for, too. If he had not got so crazy over keeping
company, there wouldn't have been no harm in the
poor fellow."
There is neither record nor tradition of any great
conflagration in Upton. A shop or a house has been
consumed now and then, and some years ago a soap-
boiling establishment was burned down. Nor have
there been any riots or street-fighting worthy of
mention since the attack on the Anabaptist meeting-
house in the reign of Queen Anne.
We cannot add much to that which has been
already said concerning the old families of Upton..
Of those who were gentry or trades-people a hundred
years ago, only four have descendants of their name
in the parish at the present time. Those of more
ancient well-to-do families have quite disappeared,
with the exception of two or three poor women, who
are the only representatives, but no longer bear the
name, of the once wealthy Hills, of Greenfields. Our
boatmen and fishermen are the people of really
ancient lineage. There were Bricks, Farleys, Biddies,
and Halls in Upton in the reign of Henry VIII., and,
it is likely, for many centuries previously. Leland may
have seen some of them working on the water, or on
the " bridge of wood," waiting for a job ; and ancestors
of theirs may have so worked, and so waited for work,
in the earlier years of Plantagenet sovereignty.
THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. 199
Many of the ordinary games of English children
are of considerable antiquity, and at Upton a peculiar
form of words is attached to marbles, and a peculiar
rhyme to " obbly-onkers," or " conquer-nut," both
of which are given in the Appendix. The merry
drama of the " Knights of Spain," now fallen out of
general use, is still enacted by our children, and is
probably based on some bit of sixteenth-century
romance concerning the Spanish gallants who came
over in the train of Philip. We miss, however, a
game of much historical interest, which was in favour
with the children of Offenham, a village near Eves-
ham, thirty years ago. In this a party of children
armed with short sticks, supposed to be knives,
attacked another party with the question, " What
d'ye say for your life ? — a bit of bread and cheese or a
knife!" "Bread and cheese," was said in various
grotesque ways, and then ensued a general skirmish,
in which the assailants endeavoured to capture and
stab as many of the enemy as possible. This is
clearly a memory of Wat Tyler's insurrection, 1381,
when the foreign merchants of London were object3
of special animosity to the mob, and suspected
persons were required to say " bread and cheese" as
a shibboleth, and were stabbed if thej-didnot pronounce
it with a proper English accent.
We are not rich in folk-lore, but the following
weather rhymes and sayings are still in vogue : —
" When Bredon Hill puts on his hat,
Men of the vale, heware of that."
" Come Easter early, or come it late,
'Tis sure to make the old cow quake."
" If the oak be out before the ash,
There'll only be a little splash ;
If the ash be out before the oak,
Then there'll be a regular soak."
200 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Two sayings belong to June 26, which is Pershore
Fair- day. llain is always expected on that day " to
christen the apples," and the cuckoo is supposed to
attend the fair for the purpose of buying a horse and
riding away thereon. If his note be heard after that
day, which is unusual, it is concluded that the fair
has not supplied him with a horse to his mind.
To have a hen that crows like a cock, and to
transplant parsley, are both omens of ill-luck to our
people ; but in the former case the immediate slaughter
of the bird may avert the impending calamity.
We greatly believe in the influence of the moon, not
only upon tides and weather, but also upon domestic
events. For instance, a pig must not be killed " in
the wane of the moon," otherwise the bacon will not
take the salt.
It can scarcely be considered a piece of history,
national or parochial, that one of the scenes in "Tom
Jones " is said to be laid in an Upton inn ; but more
worthy of note is the fact that Mrs. Siddons acted
in a large room either at the back of " The Lion," or
in Dunn's-lane.
A curious specimen of " tomb-stone literature "
has long been reported to have existed at Upton, and
the fame of it has extended so widely, that an inquiry
about it has reached me from the Antipodes. Shortly
after the appearance of " Eecords and Traditions"
in 18(38, at least two aged and credible persons
assured me that, within their own recollection, the
following epitaph was to be seen in the church-
yard : —
" Here lies the landlord of the Lion,
Who died in lively hopes of Zion ;
His son keeps on the business still,
Submissive to the heav'nly will."
In bringing these chapters on Upton to a con-
clusion, I am painfully conscious that my work has
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 201
been of slight and imperfect character, and might
have been done much better by some one possessing
more leisure and good eyesight. The book has been
put together in the midst of a busy life, and under
many discouragements and hindrances, but, such as
it is, I venture to hope that it may be of some
interest and use to present and future inhabitants of
Upton.
SUPPLEMENTAL CHAPTER.
HANLEY CASTLE.
A few hundred yards to the west of the road leading from
Upton to Hanley, there stands a substantial manor-
house, which specially bears the name, now given to
the whole parish, of Hanley Castle. It occupies the
site of a dwelling, than which few in the Western
Midlands have been more associated with mediaeval
history, and none have more entirely disappeared
from the sight of man. Of most historic buildings
there remains some portion of wall, buttress, or gate-
way, or, it may be, some grass-covered mounds, to
mark their former outlines. At Hanley, with the
exception of part of a moat, and a walled excavation
supposed to be an oven, there is no trace of the exist-
ence of a castle ; its very stones have gone, and are
only to be found built into the walls of some of the
village houses, for the ruins were used as a quarry
for some time after their demolition. The earliest
owner of Hanley of whom we have any record
is mentioned in Domesday-book as " Celmar
the Englishman," but we have no indication
as to how he was displaced to make room for a
Norman owner. Perhaps he fell at Senlac, or he
may have fled from his enslaved country to seek his
fortunes in foreign lands. His home was given to
Gilbert, the son of Turold, probably one of the gallant
soldiers who followed William in his terrible campaign
(1071), after the mercenaries of Anjou and Bretagne
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 203
forsook bis banner, scared at tbe order to march
from York to Chester in tbe midst of winter. Those
who were loyal to the Conqueror through the starva-
tion and dangers of that campaign, were richly
rewarded with grants of land and honours ; but each
man, when he knelt and took his oath of fealty, with
his hands within the King's, had to undertake some
condition of military service, as well as some special
duty with regard to the country. Two Normans had
grants in Hanley, the founder of the house of Lech-
mere, who may have watched the safety of the river
traffic from Lechmere's Place, and Gilbert, son of
Turold, who probably undertook to erect one of those
castles destined to keep in check the turbulent
Cambrians of the Welsh marches. From Domesday-
book we get a good idea of Hanley as the Normans
found it. There were two villages of ten and eleven
houses each ; a forge kept by an " alien " or foreigner,
probably one of the former Celtic inhabitants ; a
wood half a mile long, in which were 100 pigs ; and
also two salt-pits. The castle built by the Norman
Gilbert was a quadrangular structure, with towers at
each corner, and surrounded by a double moat, which
widened at the northern side into a small lake. \\ e
have no record of its having been the scene of war-
fare, but it may have been taken and re-taken over
and over again, while Worcestershire was being
desolated by the wars of the twelfth century. Hanley
Castle, however, could never have stood a long siege,
because it was commanded on two sides by higher
ground, within a few hundred yards of its walls.
In the time of Henry II. the house of De Bello
Campo owned Hanley, and exercised feudal lordship
over Upton ; it seems probable that Baron Walter De
Bello Campo was less fortunate than William of
Saltmarshe, and did not have his Hanley estates
returned to him after his appearance among the rebel
204 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
barons. In the year before the signing of the great
Charter, King John was at Hanley, and the assizes
were held at the sessions room, a large building on the
site of the present grammar school. The castle con-
tinued royal property until the time of Edward I.,
when it passed into the possession of Gilbert De
Clare, Earl of Gloucester. Something has been said
concerning this " Red Earl," and many other owners
of Hanley, in the chapter on Upton history, and we
will now only speak of such events in their home
lives as were connected with the Castle. De Clare
greatly improved and enlarged it, and, no doubt, built
a banqueting hall, chapel, and servants' rooms, to
make it a fitting abode for his young bride, the
Princess Joan of Acre. She was the darling of her
father, who must have seen some good qualities in
De Clare which are not preserved in history. To us
he appears to have been both fickle and fierce, as he
changed sides three times during the Barons' War,
and, when he could no longer fight the Saracens, his
violent temper led him into many quarrels with his
neighbours as to forest rights. The Princess and the
Earl had in common, at all events, a taste for hunt-
ing, which led to their passing a good deal of their
time at Hanley. Their sport was very different from
that of present times ; the bugle horn would sound
before break of day, and lords and ladies would be in
their saddles and away through the dewy woods by
sunrise, returning home to dinner by the hour at
which modern sportsmen are coming down to break-
fast. When the Red Earl died, in 1295, the Princess
married again almost immediately. Her second
husband was Ralph de Monthermer, an untitled
esquire, and the match so grievously offended tbe
King that he deprived the bride of her lands, and
imprisoned her bridegroom in Bristol Castle. They
were, however, not long left in disgrace, and De
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 205
Monthermer became a favourite with Edward for his
courage and chivalry. He and the Princess were
much at Hanley, with her four children by De Clare.
In the same year with her great father, Edward I., the
Princess Joan died ; and the life which had begun on
the shores of the Mediterranean terminated amid the
woodlands of Hanley.
The Chase and Hanley formed part of the
dowry of the wife of another Gilbert De Clare, who
fell at Bannockburn, and in the castle she may have
found a peaceful retreat during the few months of
her widowhood. Her sister-in-law, Eleanor De-
spenser, could have had little leisure after her
marriage to reside at Hanley, however dear to her as
the home of her mother and brother ; and, probably,
her descendants for about sixty years, only came
to the castle for an occasional visit during the hunting
season. The Countess Isabel Despenser was the
one of all the noble owners of Hanley who most
entirely made it her home. She was first married to
Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Abergavenny and Wor-
cester, and when she was little more than fifteen her
daughter, the Lady Elizabeth Beauchamp, was born
at Hanley. The Countess, when married a second
time to another Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick,
selected the chapel of the castle as the place for her
nuptials ; and we have little difficulty in picturing to
ourselves the appearance of those who took part in
that wedding 450 years ago. The Lord Abbot of
Tewkesbury and the Prior of Worcester would be
officiating in their splendid ecclesiastical attire ; we
can see the " Good Earl," middle-aged and stately,
with large head, massive features, and long hair, clad
in rich robes bordered with fur, and with sleeves
touching the ground ; beside him would be standing
his young Countess-bride, with the fair complexion and
golden locks of the Plautagenets, in her splendid
206 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
array of embroidered silk and miniver, and with a
lofty head-dress coming to a point, or horned on either
side.
When the restoration of Tewkesbury Abbey was
going on in 1875, the tomb of the Countess Isabel
was brought to light ; on the lower side of the marble
slab were engraved the words "Mercy Lord Jhu."
Some fragments of the wooden coffin remained, with
its lining of silk. Her embalmed body was wrapped
in a plain linen shroud, still perfect except at the top
of the head, where a small piece of it had fallen away,
disclosing bright auburn hair, apparently as fresh as
when she was first laid there. The body was rever-
ently left as it had been found, " and the stone
replaced with its prayer still towards her face."*
No more charming pair appears to us among those
who made their homes at Hanley than Henry Beau-
champ, Duke of Warwick, and his child-wife, Cicely
Neville, daughter of the Earl of Salisbury. Every
good gift that nature and fortune could give were
bestowed upon this young couple, and the kingly
titles, which were the Duke's latest honours, were
given to him when just twenty-one. It may have
been some presage of mortal sickness that caused the
Duke to turn from Court life, and retire with his wife
and their little daughter to their favourite home at
Hanley. The woods were in their first summer
beauty, and the wild flowers bloomed in every copse
and hedgerow around the old castle, when that bril-
liant young life came to an end, on June 11, 1446.
His grave was uncovered at Tewkesbury Abbey at the
same time with that of his mother ; coffin and shroud
Were gone, but a few of the principal bones of a tall
man remained among the dust. The Duke was de-
votedly loved by the poor, and the death of. one so
* " Tewkesbury Abbey," p. 81. By J. H. Blunt.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 207
good and noble was a grievous loss to the Court and
to the nation. After the death of his daughter at six
years old, the family honours died out, and all the
Beauchamp estates passed to the sister of the Duke,
Anne, the wife of the Kirig-maker. For her there
were many tender associations with Hanley as the
home of her girlhood ; but no such peaceful ending
was given to her as that of her brother in the old
castle of the Chase. When it was granted to Isabel
of Clarence, she probably spent some of her time
there during the five years in which she survived her
father. There may have been some stormy hours in
the last few months of her life, for George of Clarence
was as fickle in love as in war. After his death and
attainder, part of " Warwick's land in Worcester-
shire" was reserved for the young Earl, son of
Clarence and Isabel ; he and his sister, afterwards
Margaret De La Pole, may have passed some of their
early years at Hanley, but their innocent childhood
was darkened by frequent incidents of distress and
suffering among those with whom they were most
familiar. They were old enough to remember the
suspicions as to the cause of the death of their lovely
young mother, and the arrest of one of the female
servants, who was afterwards hanged on the charge of
poisoning her mistress. Their father's terrible death
was preceded by a double tragedy : one of the Duke's
chaplains and Thomas Burdett, a gentleman of his
household, were arrested and put to death for the sup-
posed crime of witchcraft and treason. By the jealous
watchfulness of Richard III. the young Earl was
removed to Yorkshire, and, so far as we know, he and
his sister never met again. When he was sent to the
Tower by Henry VIL he was a handsome youth of
fifteen, but ill-educated, and possessing none of the
spirit or talent of his family. Only once during four-
teen years of close imprisonment was he allowed to
208 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
see the outer world, aud that was when he was taken
in procession through London, to convince the public
of the imposture of Lambert Simnel. Hanley and
Upton must have acutely shared in the grief which
thrilled through England in November, 1499, at the
judicial murder of their young Lord ; and with the
extinction of that innocent life the glory of the old
castle was quenched for ever.
The oldest part of the building had stood for four
centuries, and in all probability repairs were needed,
and for lack of them the castle became each year more
and more dilapidated. The stewards' accounts of this
royal property are the only proof that a building existed
for about the first fifteen years of the century,
when it passed out of their hands into those of Sir
"William Compton. It was a frequent custom in old
times to select lads of gentle birth to be reared and
educated with princes ; and when Henry VIII. , then
Duke of York, was a child, the son of Mr. Edward
Compton, of Compton Verney, was thus chosen to be
the Prince's play-fellow and school-mate, and between
the two there arose one of those friendships which
endure throughout men's lives. Henry, so changeable
in later days, both as to religion and affection, never
swerved from his attachment to his earliest friend ;
when he became king he showered honours and
estates upon him to an extent that must have made
him one of the richest commoners in the kingdom.
Among these gifts were the constable-ship of Glou-
cester, Sudeley, and Hanley Castles; but it is
impossible to say what was the amount of ownership
attached to this office. Certainly it did not mean any
responsibility in the preservation of these castles, for,
to quote Leland regarding Hanley, " here was a Castle
and Mr. Cumpton clene defaced it." Possibly he
needed money for the expenses of the "Field of the
Cloth of Gold," at which he was one of the champions,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 209
and the carved stones and wood-work of the castle
would easily find a purchaser. It seems to have
been entirely demolished, and the stones became
a rapidly lessening heap of ruins, from which any per-
son who wished to build a cottage carried away as
much as he liked. Sir William Compton belonged to
an age when there was little scruple about destroying
the relics of the past, or in accepting anything that was
offered in the way of Church or State property. Apart
from this he was a gallant and sensible gentleman,
who distinguished himself at the " Battle of the
Spurs," and avoided being entangled in any of the
political difficulties of. the day. He died in 1528, of
the sweating sickness, and the Chase and Hanley
were granted to a succession of owners, among whom
were Sir Edward Fiennes, Lord Clinton, and two of
the Bishops of Worcester. In the reign of James I.
Habingdon chronicled that on the site of the castle
" was a great heap of rubbish and a silly barn."
Before this the manor had been granted, with its
appurtenances, to" John Hornyold and his wife
Katherine "to be held in capite for the twentieth part
of a Knight's fee." A substantial house was built on
the north side of the castle plateau early in the seven-
teenth century, and by degrees the turfy mounds have
been cleared away, and a pretty, fertile garden occu-
pies the site where once rose the massive towers of the
Normans, and the more graceful halls of the Planta-
genets. Some years ago a considerable extent of the
foundation walls, nine feet thick, was laid bare, but
unfortunately these were covered up again without
any attempt at making a plan. The inner moat is
entire exception the north side, where it was filled up
a few years since. It may be conjectured that the
servants' quarters were in the north-east corner, as
the only vestige of the castle is visible here. It is a
circular concave pit with some remains of ancient
p
*210 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
grating at the bottom, and it is supposed to have been
one of those outdoor ovens which were used for cook-
ing quarters of venison in medieval kitchens. A few
rc-lj#s •found in the moat and garden have been
] (reserved, and these are very suggestive as to
the home life of the past. Two or three bottles of
very thick glass and of quaint shape must have
been used to contain the French or Rhenish wines,
Which were considered a necessary accompaniment
to every meal ; a massive spur may have been
lost by a careless groom in the court-yard ; a small
dagger of delicate shape, and with traces of gold
inlaying still visible, may have belonged to one of the
young lords of Warwick, or to some high-born page,
and have been flung away into the moat in sport or in
a quarrel ; a glazed tile bears a coat of arms, which is
identified by " Somerset Herald " as that of Richard
Beauchainp, Earl of Worcester, the first husband of
Isabel Despenser. It may have been part of the
flooring of the banqueting ball or a ladies' bower, and
over it must have passed the feet 'of the King-maker,
George of Clarence, Edward of Warwick, and other
men who were to die in battle or on the scaffold.
Over it also must have stepped, in their happy youth,
those fair maidens of the house of Warwick whose
lives were to end so sadly.
Some forgotten catastrophe must have given rise to
the lines in the old song about the neighbourhood of
Malvern : —
" Then open not thy gate,
Remember Hanley's fate.
And bless the Lord."
At the head of the pool near Burley, or Burl End,
which must have been part of the outer moat, there
tnerfi found some years ago a dagger and several
arrow-heads. Within the castle enclosure there stood,
in the memory of living persons, a curious old wind-
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. 211
mill, the base of which was an enormous oak on which
the mill worked with rollers. The lords of Hanley
Castle had certain rights of jurisdiction over the
Chase, and could sentence to death obstinate offenders
against the forest law r s. The trials were held at the
Rhydd Green, and the condemned were taken along
" Hangman's-lane " to a spot not far from Malvern
Wells, called " Gallows-hill." Before trial the accused
were confined in a prison at the castle, called
the " Banbury-chamber." It may be from some
lingering tradition of these poor wretches, pacing to
and fro behind their prison bars, that " knocking about
like a Banbury," is still an Upton phrase for any one
in a state of restless excitement, while Hanley
uses the term "Banbury boys " for young lads in-
clined to get into mischief. The castle remained in
possession of the Hornyold family until a few years
ago, when it passed, by exchange of lands, to Sir
E. A. H. Lechmere, a descendant of that comrade of
the Norman Gilbert who built the earliest portion of
Hanley Castle.
UPTON WORDS AND PHRASES;
BEING AN APPENDIX TO
THE NATION IN THE PARISH
By EMILY M. LAWSON ;
CONTAINING MORE THAN EIGHT HUNDRED WORDS AND PHRASES
OF UNUSUAL SOUND OR MEANING CURRENT IN
THE PARISH OF
UPTON-ON-SEVERN,
BY
ROBERT LAWSON, M.A.,
Sometime Student of Christetiurch, Oxford, Rector of Upton-on-Severn, and
Honorary Canon of Worcester Cathedral.
UPTON WORDS AND PHRASES.
Much of the language belonging to different eras of national
life still lies imbedded in the various strata of local dialect.
This, however, is rapidly disappearing before the advance of
railways, newspapers, and schools ; for it is the tendency of
these, while levelling up our vocabulary to the requirements
of contemporary diction, to smooth down and bury all out-
cropping ruggedness of old-world speech.
It is the more desirable to collect some of the survivals which
may yet be found among the household words of our Worces-
tershire folk, because Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps * has noticed very
few as belonging to this county. And Upton, combining, as it
does, some urban with some rural characteristics, would be
likely to yield, were the needful leisure and study applied, a
richer variety of such survivals than places which are towns
or villages pure and simple. t
The collection here presented is very far from being com-
plete. It has been made with scanty knowledge of other
collections ; and the specimens which it contains have been
picked up, for the most part, upon the surface, and in many
cases labelled with more of guesswork than of research.
Nevertheless, an expert in etymology will not fail to note
among them some fossil relics of the speech of the successive
races which have made their homes on the banks of Severn ;
and he will also find expressions which, although long unknown
to ordinary dictionaries, were once familiar utterances, in locally
varied forms, of our composite English tongue.
* "Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words," tenth edition.
1881. Only fourteen of the Upton words given below are by him
assigned to Worcestershire. To each of these the abbreviation Hall.
ii appended.
t Leland speaks of Upton as "a townlet ;" but Strabo, a writer
of much earlier date and more extended travel, uses' a term which
still more accurately describes it, " kwhottoXic, a village-town." The
same word is used in St. Mark i. 38.
IV THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
To some of tbe words and phrases given below attention was
called by a brochure issued iinder an assumed name by the late
Kev. C. Allen, Incumbent of Bushley,* who has therein re-
corded a number of original and racy sayings of the South
"Worcestershire peasantry. The words in his list are about a
hundred and fifty ; but, as Bushley is neighbour to Tewkesbury
rather than to Upton, less than a hundred of these find a place
in an Upton Glossary. From a much longer list, sent by the
present Incumbent of Bushley. the Rev. E. R. Dowdeswell,
about thirty words have been thankfully adopted after careful
scrutiny. Many valuable additions have been suggested by Mrs.
Chamberlain's " Glossary of West Worcestershire Words, "t and
by an unpublished collection which has been made by the Rev.
Hamilton Kingsford, Vicar of Stoulton, and illustrated from
Shakespeare by his brother, Mr. Walter B. Kingsford, of
Lincoln's-inn. With regard to some special words, Professor.
Skeat has been consulted, and he has most kindly furnished
the information and suggestions to which his name is attached.
For further matter, derived from his Etymological Dictionary,
the new edition (1S84) of that work is quoted. Miss Jackson's
" Shropshire Word-Book " (pp. 524)J was not obtained until after
the following Glossary had gone to the printer ; and, even then,
the extent and completeness of her work might have extinguished
this attempt in despair, but for the consciousness that the latter
purports to be no more than a hastily developed after-thought,
appended to the records of a single parish.
Much care has been taken to exclude all words which have
not been verified as being more or less used in the parish of
Upton; and cordial thanks are due to many friends who have
rendered welcome aid in the process of authentication, as well
as in that of discovery.
It has properly come within the scope of the Glossary to
include words which, although not of unusual meaning, are
unusually pronounced ; but only a few of such are given by
way of helping to indicate local phonetics. The following may
serve as specimens of a considerable number for which space
could not be afforded: — athirt (athwart), athout (without),
* " Notes of Quaint Words and Sayings in the Dialect of South
Worcestershire, by A. Porson, M.A." James Parker & Co., London ;
and Garrison, Tewkesbury, 187-5.
t Published for the English Dialect Society by Triibner & Co.,
Ludgate-hill, 1882.
; Trubner A Co., Ludgate-hill. Shrewsbury : Adnitt & Naunton.
Chester: Minshull & Hughts. 1879—81.
THE NATION IN THE PAEISH. V
brockiloiv (brocoli), 'cute, enoiu, gownd, layloeh (lilac), marvel
(marble), moral (model), 'ommer (hammer), opple, rot (rat),
ruff (roof), sallet (salad), s.kellinton, sparrib, sullinge (syringe),
'tice, turmit, unbeknownst, whatsomever, wops.
The lack of space has also demanded the excision of the
names of wild flowers, except in a few special instances.
While no words have been rejected because not peculiar to
Upton, the general rule kept in view has been not to admit any
which appear either (1) to belong to the domain of slang or
coarse language, or (2) to be used with uniform sound or mean-
ing in most parts of England; such as (1) bloke, catlap (tea),
lubhy, mopus, sack (dismiss), slope (depart), swell, &c. ; (2)
abide and abear (endure), chitterlings, crock, finger-stall,
fold-yard, hames, haulm, helve, huff, lusty (stout), near (stingy),
oaf , pikelet, put-about, quality (gentry), rime, sight (quantity),
slack (small cOal), slop, smock, snack, swarm (climb), swath,
tine, trapes, venturesome, withy., &c.
It is, however, almost impossible so to observe this rule as to
satisfy every reader, and an exception to it has purposely been
made in the case of a few technical words (mostly relating to
trades or agriculture) which are more or less in general use.
These have been inserted in order to supply an explanation of
terms which occasionally meet the unfamiliar eye or ear
-without conveying a clear impression of their meaning.
VI THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
GLOSSARY.
Abbreviations.—^^'., adjective ; adv., adverb; all., allied; A. S..
Anglo-Saxon; comp., compare; der., derived from; Etym.
Diet., Skeat's Etymological Dictionary; Fr., French; Hall,
Halliwell-Phillipps ; Icel., Icelandic; int., interjection ; Lat..
Latin ; M.E., Middle English ; n., noun ; part., participle :
phi., plural; prep., preposition; pr., pronoun; pron., pro-
nunciation; sing., singular ; t\,verb.
Above-a-bit, adv. Considerably, a good deal.
Ackern, n. Pron. of acorn ; der. not A.S. de, oak, but A.S.
acer, a field, an acre (Etym. Diet.).
Acquaintance, n. A sweetheart.
Adder, n. One who enlarges a statement beyond the facts.
Adland, n. Pron. of headland. A strip of ground left for tbe
plough to turn upon at the end of the furrows.
kdled,part. Pron. of addled ; A.S. adela, mud (Etym. Diet.).
A-gfite, adv. Astir, a-going, in hand.
Agle, n. An icicle. A.S. gicel (Skeat).
Ails, n. (pronounced, ahyls) Beards of cone-wheat or barley.
A.S. egla, egle, a prickle, a mote (Etym. Diet.).
Ait, n. Pron. of eyot. An islet in a river. Icelandic ey, an
island (Etym. Diet.).
All-about-it, n. The whole matter.
All-as-is, n. All that remains.
All-as-one, adv. All the same.
Anant, Anenst, or Anunst, prep. Next to, over against, oppo-
site. Anenst, Ben Jonson's Alchemist, ii. 1.
Anighst, prep. Near.
Anights, adv. At night.
Ant-tump, n. An ant-hill.
Any-niore-than, adv. If it was not that. " I should be sure to
»o to church any more than I've not got a gownd to my back,
nor yet a shoe to my fut."
Arrand, or Arrant, n. Pron. of errand ; A.S. ccrende, a mes-
sage, business (Etym. Diet.).
Asp, n. An aspen tree. Properly, aspen is the adj. form, as
wooden of wood (Etym. Diet.).
Awhile, v. To spare time. " I can't awhile to stop now ; I gol
my washin' agate."
Backen, v. To keep back, as growth of crops.
Back-side, n. A yard at the back of a house. Ben Jonson's
The Case is Altered, iv. 4.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. Vll
Badger, n. A dealer, as in fruit, grain, poultry, &c. Properly.
a dealer in corn, and jocularly transferred to the brock,
which was supposed to feed upon corn. Herrick calls the
badger " the gray farmer " (Etyni. Diet.).
Bag, n. (1) (Of wheat) three bushels. (2) The udder of a cow.
Bait, n. A labourer's luncheon. Comp. bait for a horse, and
bite.
Band-hay, n. Inferior hay used for hay-bands, packing, &c.
Bangles, n. Severed branches not less than six inches in
diameter.
Bannut, n. A small kind of walnut.
Bat, n. A beetle, v. To blink with the eyes.
Bather, v. To take a dust bath, as birds do.
Batter, v. To slope the side of a ditch or bank. Fr. abattre.
Bearbine, n. The wild convolvolus (arven&is). A.S. here,
corn or barley (bere-lic, i.e. bear-leek) (Skeat), and bine, a
twining stem, as of the hop-plant.
Becall, v. To rate, or abuse. " 'Er becalled mu sheamful I "
Bed-lier, n. One who is bed-ridden.
Beestings, or Boistings, n. The first milk drawn from a cow
after calving.
Beetle, n. A heavy mallet, chiefly used for driving wedges.
2 Hen. IV. i. 2.
Bell, n. A small watery blister, v. To bellow, as a cow. A.S.
bellan.
Best, v. To get the better of.
Bezzle, v. To squander on drink. " 'E's bin bezzling about
all the wik." (See Embezzle and Imbecile in Etym. Diet.).
Big, v. To magnify. " 'E's a good un to big hisself."
Bird-batting, n. Bird-catching.
Biver, v. To quiver as the lips do; A.S. bificm, to tremble
(Skeat). Uncommon.
Blacksmith's Daughter, n. A lock and key to a door or gate.*
Black-steer, n. A starling.
* Neither lock nor key, however, are represented by the feminine
pronoun; and, go far as has been ascertained, the only inanimate
objects spoken of as "she," or rather "her" (which is the usual
nominative), are a boat of any kind, a church bell, a cricket ball, a
fire-engine, and a railway train. In Devonshire it used to be said
that the use of the feminine pronoun was still more restricted, and
that everything was of the masculine gender except a tom-cat. In
that county the writer has heard a woman say, " Hvs a nice,
motherly shawl," and one of Nelstn's old salts speak of a ship as
"he."
Vlll THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Blaggerd, n. Pron. of blackguard. One addicted to swearing
and low language.
Blind, adj. Applied to bloseom that does not come to fruit.
Blow, n. Blossom (pronounced, blaow).
Blub, v. To swell. " Well, your face be blubbed up ! " Co»i/>.
blubber ; also bleb and blob, a blister or bubble (Etym. Diet.).
Blue Isaac, n. A hedge -sparrow.
Blue-tail, n. A fieldfare.
Boat, n. A vessel on Severn, pointed at either end, and carry-
ing about thirty-seven tons.
Bobowlet, n. A large moth.
Body-horse, n. The middle horse in a team.
Bolting, n. A measure of straw, being a bundle of from 14 lb.
to 21 lb.
Bonds, n. "Willow twigs for tying up kids, &c.
Bore, n. The tidal surge in Severn, which used to be plainly
visible at Upton. Also called Flood's-head.
Bo.st, v. To burst, generally in an execrative sense. " They
bosted wobnts." " Bost this door, 'e wun't open."
Bottle, n. A small wooden keg for carrying a labourer's drink.
Boughten, part. Said of bread or beer not made or brewed at
home.
Bout, n. A turn or time ; specially applied to sickness and
ploughing. Der. Danish bugt, a bend, turn, bight; but in
sense of sickness, drinking, &c, der. Fr. boutcr, to thrust ; a
stroke, or time (Etym. Diet.).
Bow-haul, v . To tow a vessel by man-power.
Box, n. The treasury of a Friendly Society ; " on the box"
drawing an allowance from the Club.
Brand-tail, n. The redstart.
Bree, n. A large cattle-fly. Brise, Troil. and Cress, i. 3. A.S.
brimsa, a gad-fly; M.E. brese (Etym. Diet.).
Breeds, n. The brim of a hat.
Brcvit, v. To prowl, or hang about. " I seed Mr. Ranalds
(the fox) a-brevitin' about." " Wot be thembwoys a-brevitvri
about in our lane for? "
Brim, n. A boar pig.
Brand, or Brun, n. A log for burning. " Fetch a good
chump o' wood out o' the cellar, and put 'im beyind the fire
for a Christmas brun.'" Corrvp. brand (brond, Chaucer, C. T.
1340). A.S. brinnan, to burn (Etym. Diet.).
Brush, or Brash, n. Small branches of trees, used for pea-sticks
and kids.
Brush-hook, n. A long-handled bill-hook for trimming hedges.
Buckle, n. A twig of hazel or withy, pointed at both ends,
THE NATION IN THE PAKISH. IX
shaved flat, and twisted, for securing thatch, v. In sense of
bend, 2 Hen. IV. i. 1.
Buflie, v. To speak with a catch in the breath ; to stutter.
In Middle English buffer is a stutterer (Etym. Diet.). Wiclif,
Isaiah xxxii. 4.
Buff-peal, n. A muffled peal.
Bullpits, or Bullpeats, n. Tufts of coarse grass very blunting to
the scythe.
Bumble-footed, adj. Club-footed.
Bunnel, n. Something to drink. Boon-ale ? (Skeat).
Bunt, v. To butt or thrust with the horn.
Burcoe, n. Pron. of borecole.
Burden, v. To forebode. " I burdens tempest afore night."
Burr, n. A sweet-bread.
Burru, n. Shelter from wind or sun. Babies must be kept,
and cuttings must be planted, in the burru. Same word as
burrow and borough. A.S. beorgan, to protect (Etym. Diet.).
Bury, n. A storage of roots covered with earth. Pronounced
as berry.
Bussock, or Boossock, n. A bad cough, v. To cough. Chiefly
applied to cattle.
But-just, adv. Just this moment.
Butty, n. A mate, or fellow- workman. Der. boty-felowe,
partner in booty. A butty gang is a gang of men who share
equally. (Etym. Diet.).
Caddie, v. To nestle, to want to be petted. Comp. Cade-lamb,
coddle. Old Fr. cadel, a starveling, &c, one that hath need
of cockering and pampering (Etym. Diet.).
Cadge, v. To beg indirectly by means of hints or flattery.
Cag-mag, v. (Hall.) To quarrel.
Call, n. Business, right, occasion. " 'Er 'ad no call to kip on
becallin' of 'im that-a-way."
Callust, adj. Saturated, choked up, impermeable; applied to
soil. Connected with callous, from Latin callus, or callum,
thick skin or coating, difficult to penetrate (Skeat).
Cant, v. To tell tales behind back.
Caplin, n. The attachment of the nile to the hand-stick of a
flail. Through the bow of a wooden swivel working on the
hand-stick, and through a loop of strong horse-hide laced on
the nile by a thunk, the middle-bond loosely passes, and, being
knotted, fastens the two members of the flail together.
Carcase, n. The trunk of the body. " It were about as big as
the carcase of our John."
Carpet, v. To call in for reproof. "I know'd as 'er 'd be
carpeted if 'er carried on so."
X THE NATION IN THE PAEISH.
Carrier, n. Same as Messenger.
Carry-on, v. To behave improperly.
Carryings-on, n. Improper conduct.
CastC "• A second swarm of bees from one hive.
Catching, adj. Applied to weather, showery.
Cizu'lty, adj. Precarious, uncertain. " A cazu'lty job."
Chancer, n. One who makes rash and inexact statements.
" She's a bit of a chancer."
Charky, adj. Caked, cracky, as soil in drought after wet.
Charm, ?l A hum, or confused murmur, as of many voices.
Dcr. Lat. carmen, a song (Etym. Diet.).
Chastise, v. To find fault with ; to question (confused with
catechize ?). Der. Lat., through Fr., castigare (Etym. Diet.).
Chat, v. To gather chips. " T got the grant to go a-chattm
when they fall'd them big ellums."
Chats, n. Chips.
Chawl, n. Pron. of jowl, a pig's cheek. Jaw was formerly
spelt chaw (Etym. Diet.).
C ha win, n. Pron. of chasm, a crevice, an earth crack.
Cheat, n. The grasshopper-warbler.
Cheese, n. Apples that have been pressed for cider, but not
wrung through the hairs.
Chibbals, n. Onions grown from bulbs. Fr. ciboule.
Chill, v. To take the chill off. A.S. ci/le, cele, great cold.
Com}). Lat. gelidus (Etym. Diet.).
Chilver, n. A ewe lamb. A.S. cilfor (Skeat).
Chimb, n. Pronounced, chime ; the end of a stave which
projects beyond the head of the cask.
Chit, v. To sprout, as a potato, n. A.S. cid, a germ, a sprout
(Etym. Diet.).
Chock-full, adj. Choke-full, as full as can be.
Christen, v. To baptize (a child) in church. See Half-baptize.
Chump, n. A log of wood. Icel. Jcumbr.
Clam, v. To starve with hunger.
Clay, n. Pron. of claw.
Clout, n, A rough patch. A.S. (but of Celtic origin) did, a
piece (Etym. Diet.).
Cock-boat, n. A small boat attached to a trow.
Cofer, n. Pron. of Coffer. (1) A chest for keeping clothe3 oi-
lmen in. (2) A corn-bin. Dying out.
Colly, n. Coal-dust, or soot from a kettle, v. To blacken,
Oth. ii. 3 ; Mids. Night's Dr. i. 1. Comp. collier.
Colt, v. To fall in, as the side of a grave or pit.
Comical, adj. Unwell. " 'E seemed that comical as : e couldn't
eat no little."
THE NATION IX THE PARISH. XI
•
Cones, or Cone-wheat, ft. Bearded wheat.
Coop-up, v. To pucker up, as in a clumsy seam.
Cop, n. The first bout of a veering in ploughing. Little used.
Cord, ft. A measure of fire-wood, being a heap 4 ft. high, 8 ft
long, and 3 ft. 1 in. from back to front.
Cord-wood, n. Branches of felled trees too small for bangles,
and too large for kids.
Cotter, n. An iron bolt passing through a shutter from the out-
side, and secured within by a pin passing through it.
Cow-hearted, adj. Timid, cowardly. Icel. litga, to tyrannise
over, and A.S. heorte (Etym. Diet.).
Cowl, n. (1) A chimney top. (2) A vessel on wheels for carrying
liquid.
Cow-leech, «. A cattle-doctor. A.S. cii, cow and lasce, physi-
cian. Wiclif, St. Luke iv. 23, "Leche, hele thi silf."
Crab, m. A standard frame with an apparatus of rollers, cog-
wheels, windlass, rope-tackle, and pulleys, for moving timber
or vessels, pulling down trees, &c.
Craisy, ft. A buttercup. Said to be a corruption of " Christ's-
eye " (oculus Christi), the mediaeval name for the marigold,
erroneously transferred to the marsh -marigold, and so to the
ranunculus family.
Crane, ft. A heron.
Cratch, n. A rack of any kind, including the rack-like tail-board
of a cart or waggon.
Cress, n. A ridge-tile (crest, Lat. crista, ?).
Cricket, n. A low wooden stool. The game of cricket was
probably a development of the older game of " stool-ball,"
a dairy-maid's stool being used for the wicket. Wedgwood
suggests that the proper name for the bat was cricket-staff.
A.S. cricc, a staff. Comp. crutch (Etym. Diet.).
Cross-eyed, adj. Squinting badly.
Crud, n. A curd.
Cruddle, v. To curdle.
Cub, ft. A crib for cattle to eat from ; a tree-guard ; a hen-coop.
Probably a corruption of coop (Etyni. Diet.).
Cuckoo's Maid, or Mate, n. The wryneck.
Cullen, ft. Small grains of corn winnowed out. Ber. cull ;
Lat. colligere (Skeat).
Curf, v. To cut off in layers, as hay.
Curnock, n. Four bushels of corn.
Cut, ft. A canal.
Cutlins, «. Oatmeal grits.
Cutting, adj. Moving, pathetic.
Dabbly, adj. Wet, rainy. " If so be as it should come a dabbhj
time."
Xll THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Daddock, n. Decayed wood, touchwood.
Daddocky, adj. Flimsy, unsubstantial, soft with decay.
Dahnt, v. Pron. of daunt ; to cow or dishearten ; u Our Bill,
'e's that melch-'arted as 'e's soon dahnted."
Daffy, adj. Simple, soft. A.S. daft, mild, meek. Comp.
innocent for foolish (Etyrn. Diet.).
Dauby, adj. Damp and sticky ; used of bread made from
"grown " wheat. Not common.
Dawny, adj. Soft, damp. Perhaps all. to dank (Skeat).
Deadly, adj. Accomplished, having strange power. "A deadly
woman at doctoring;" "a deadly man to fight." Comp.
" dead shot," " dead level."
Deals, n. The teats of an animal.
Deef, adj. Pron. of deaf.
Deepness, n. Cunning.
Denial, n. Disadvantage. " 'Twere a great denial to 'im, as 'e
never 'ad no schoolin'."
Desperate, adj. Same as deadly, ado. Beyond expectation or
imagination. Comp. in Devon and Dorset use of cruel and
terr'ble, also Sen>6g and Suviog, all expressing strange power.
See Terrify.
Dicky, adj. Middling in health.
Dilladerry, adj. Pron. of dilatory. Comp. dilly-dally.
Dink, v. To toss up and down, to dandle as a child.
Disabill, n. Disorder. Pin. AVorking clothes.
Disannul, v. To disallow, disappoint, disinherit, dispossess.
Dither, or Dithering, ?i. A trembling or dizziness, v. To tremble
or become dizzy.
Djaou, n. Pron. of dew.
Djaouced, adj. and adv. Deuced, devilish, to a supernatural
extent (disguised swearing). Der. Lat. Deus. An old Nor-
man oath vulgarised, and corrupted in sense from good to bad
(Etym. Diet.).
Djud, or Dyud, adj. Pron. of dead.
Do, n. A festivity, a fuss (pronounced, doo).
Dolly, n. An implement»used by washerwomen.
Dolly-doucey, n. {Hall, doucet). A child's doll (ou at Upton
as in mouse, at Offenham as in moose).
Dothering, n. A bothering din in the head ; o sounded as in
other. " No, mum, I don't go to church now, mum ; them
orgins do make such a dotherin' in my poor yud."
Dotment, n. A mess of grease and dirt procured from church-
bells, or a cart-wheel, supposed to cure the shingles.
Dout, v. To do out, or extinguish. Comp. doff, and don.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. xiii
Down-hill, adj. and adv. (1) Applied to wind, 60uth ; from the
south. "The wind is a-gone down-' ill." (2) Applied to
a line on the downward slope. " That rail don't sim just
level ; it falls down-'ill a bit."
Dowse, n. A blow (on the head). Pronounced as rhyming
with house. Perhaps all. to dash (Etym. Diet.).
Dozen, n. Thirteen in selling plants, cucumbers, and many
kinds of vegetables for eating.
Draft, n. Two and a half hundred-weight of coal.
Driggle, n. A small-meshed draw-net, used from the river bank
in high water.
Drink-house, n. The building in which cider is kept.
Dromedary, n. A slow, stupid, or clumsy person. " Jim,
you dromedary ! to miss that easy catch ! "
Dub, v. To bend or pull down.
Duck's-frost. n. Drizzling rain. " It'll be a duck's-frost afore
the morrow."
Dumb-nettle, n. Dead-nettle.
Dummel, n. A stupid, awkward thing ; applied to men, cattle
tools, &c. A.S. dumb (Skeat).
Dunny, adj. Deaf.
Dure, v. To last.
Ean, v. (of ewes). To bring forth young. " Eanlings " and
" eaning-time," Mer. of Venice, i. 2. A.S. ednian (Etym.
Diet.).
Elder, n. An udder.
Elevens, n. An intermediate meal at 11 a.m.
Ellern, n. An elder-bush. The d is excrescent; M.E. eller
(Etym. Diet.).
Empt, v. To empty,
fitherings, n. Rods of hazel used for weaving in and out of the
tops of hedge-stakes ; also for bean sticks, and for making
crates. In some places called edderings.
Ettles, n. Nettles.
Event, n. Used for amount or quantity. " There's any event
of potatoes in the bury."
Ever-so, adv. In any case, at the worst. " Not if it were
ever so."
Expressions, n. Coarse language.
Eye, v. (1) To glance at. " Her on'y eyed the letter, and
giv'd it me back." (2) To regard with ill-will ; 1 Sam. xviii. 9.
Fad, n. A whim, a fancy.
Faddy, adj. Fanciful, fidgetty.
Ffidy, adj. Flabby, as the flesh of a drooping child. " ^Tiy x
'is dear ittle arms be as fad y a&fady."
Q
XIV THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Fag, generally Old Fag, n. Tufts of last year's grass not eaten
down. v. To pull bard, as at a rope.
Faggit, n. (1) A cake, or small pudding, of spiced mince, made
from pig's-fry, &c. (2) A term of reproach to a female.
Fainty, adj. Inclining to faintness.
Fall, v. To fell, as a tree.
Falling-weather, n. Weather in which rain, hail, or snow may
be expected.
Falter, v. To fail in health.
Fammel, v. To furnish. Comp. Lat. famclicuH.
Farden-piece, n. A farthing.
Fast, adi. Forward, impulsive.
Patches, n. Vetches. "Fitches," Isaiah xxviii. 25; Ezek.
iv. 9.
Favour, v. To bear lightly on, to ease from weight or pressure,
as a horse may. " He seems to favour the off foreleg."
Feature, v. To be like in face. " 'E do feature 'is father ; "e's
as like as like."
Felt, n. A fieldfare.
Felth, n. Sensation. "'Er've no felth uv 'er right 'and."
Fetch, v. To deal, as a blow. " 'A-done, or I'll fetch thee a
dowse on th' yud."
Fettle, n. Proper order, v. To get ready, set in order ; Eorn. and
Juliet, iii. 4.
Filbeard, n. Pron. of filbert. Perhaps called after St. Philibert,
whose day, Aug. 22 (old style), is in the nutting season
(Etym. Diet.).
Find of, v. To feel.
Pitcher, n. A polecat.
Pitcher-coloured, adj. Of the colour of a polecat.
Fither, v. To scratch or fidget with feet or fingers.
Fittle, n. (Hall.) I'ron. of victual.
Fleet, n. A floating bridge, or horse-ferry.
Flen, n. Phi. of flea.
Fletcher, n. A shoot for the overflow of surplus water.
Flim, adj. Pliable, limp.
Flood's-head, n. Same as Bore on the Severn.
Flower-knot, n. A flower-bed ; King Richard II. iii. 4.
Foot-set, adj. Applied to a temporary fence, or stop-gap, of
dead thorns set upright in a trench, and trodden in with the
foot.
Foremost-horse, n. The leading horse in a team.
Four-o'clock, n. A meal at that hour.
Frame, n. A skeleton. " 'Er hain't no more nor &fia>u< ."
Frangy, adj. Of horses, restive (g soft).
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XV
Franzy, adj. Passionate, impetuous (frenzied i.
Fresh, adj. Not very drunk.
Fresh-liquor, h. Unsalted lard.
Frodge, n. The ground-ice which rises from the hottom of
Severn, " like packs o' wool," when a hard frost breaks up.
Comp. froze.
Frum, adj. Forward, well grown, full, thriving ; applied to
vegetables, grass, fruit, and animals.
Fullar, n. The tool used for making a fullaring. Dying out.
Fullaring, n. The groove in a horse-shoe in which the nails ai*e
inserted. Dying out.
Furnace, n. A large boiler, set in brickwork, for brewing,
making soup, &c.
Fyaou, adj. Pron. of few.
Gaffer, n. A master, an overlooker.
Gain, n. A shallow water-course, adj. (1) In a workmanlike
way. (2) Near. Comp. the like use of "handy" in both
senses. Pronounced, gahyn.
Gallus, adj. Applied to boys only ; impish, mischievous.
" 'Taint as the lad's wicked, nor yet spiteful, but 'e's desp'rut
gallus. " Gallows," (n.) applied to Cupid, Love's Labour
Lost, v. 2.
Gallusness, n. Impishness, love of mischief.
Gambril, n. A curved and notched piece of wood for hanging up
and extending carcases.
Game, v. To make fun. A.S. ga?7i?n, a game, sport (Etym.
Diet.).
Gammet, n. Fun, sport, a whimsical trick.
Gampus, n. Hinder part of traces used in field work.
Gangril, n. A lanky, ungainly creature, whether man or beast.
Gapping-quick, n. Strong thorns planted to fill up a gap in a
hedge.
Garment, n. A chemise.
Gaun, n. A wooden vessel ; properly, a gallon.
Gawby, n. Pron. of gaby ; a silly, foolish person. Icel. gapi,
a rash, reckless man (Etym. Diet.).
Gawm, v. To paw, to pull about with the hands. " Don't you
be &-gawmvn' o' the fittle with yer mawlers."
Gay, v. To swing or see-saw.
Gender, n. The spawn of frogs and of eels. Pronounced,
j under.
Get, v. Of a clock or watch, to gain.
(ret-beyond, v. To make out, to master, to get to the bottom of.
Giddling, adj. Applied to girls only, thoughtless, flighty.
Gillbents, n. Stems of coarse grass (G hard);
XVI THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Gird, or Gurd, n. A spasm. " By fits and girds.'''
Glat, n. A gap in a hedge.
Glum, n. Pron. of gleam ; " hot glums " are spoken of in close,
thundery weather.
Glutch, v. To swallow with effort. Comp. " glut " in same
sense, Tempest, i. 1.
Go-hack, v. To grow worse, or lose ground, as crops, or a sick
person.
Golden-chain, n. Laburnum.
Gone-dead, part. Dead, as a plant or tree.
Good-ported, adj. Of good sort. " Good-sorted pigs."
Gout, n. A water-course bridged to make a roadway. M.E.
gote, a water-channel ; closely allied to gut or gutte, the
intestinal canal. Not connected with gutter, which is of
Lat. origin (Etym. Diet).
Graff, or Grafting-tool, n. A long and narrow spade used in
draining. A.S. grafan, to dig (Etym. Diet.).
Granch, v. To grind the teeth.
Grass-nail, n. A linked hook for bracing the scythe to the snead.
Great, adj. Friendly, intimate. " His lads was alius great
with ourn, when they was youngsters together."
Gret, work by the, n. Piece-work. By the great or gross ?
Grewed, adj. Of milk, &c, stuck to the pan in boiling. Not
common.
Grindlestone, n. A grindstone.
Grip, n. A field-gutter.
Gull, n. A gosling.
Gullock, v. To swallow. Comp. gullet, and Lat. in gula (Etym.
Diet.).
Gurgeons, n. Sharps ; wheat-meal at the stage between flour
and bran.
Hack, or Hack-rake, ?>. See Rake-turn.
Hackle, n. (1) A conical and movable thatch, for bee-hives.
(2) Three reaps of beans set up in the field, v. To shelter
sheaves from wet by spreading an inverted one on the top of
the others.
Haggle, n. (1) A mild dispute. (2) The process of bargaining ;
higgle, a weakened form.
Hairs, ti. Hair-cloths used in the cider-press.
Half-baptize, v. To baptize privately. See Christen,
lliillier, or Allier, n. One who draws coal, timber, bricks. &c.
Handful, n. A person difficult to manage. "Our 'Lizas won-
derful took up uv that chap o' hern, but if they gets married
he'll be a handful, I reckon."
Hand stick, n. The handle of a flail.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XV11
Happen, adv. Perhaps.
Harcelet, n. The liver, lights, and heart of a pig made into a
dish. Formerly spelt hastelet, hastlet, haslet ; of Fr. origin
(Skeat).
Hardistrow, n. A shrew-mouse.
Haverdepaze, adj. In doubt, mentally on the balance. Cor-
ruption of avoirdupois.
Hayn-up, v. Applied to grass land, to shut it up for hay.
Hay-riff, n. Goose-grass.
Hay-trusser, n. One who cuts hay out of a rick and makes it
up into trusses. (Between twenty and thirty men in Upton
are thus employed. The weight of a truss is 50 lb.)
Hay- ward, n. An officer in charge of cattle and fences on com-
mon land. Nares (1822) speaks of the word as disused ; but
the term and the office have been in use at Upton within the
last five years. Der. AS. hecg, hedge (connected with haga,
whence haw, haw-haw, haw-finch, haw-thorn), and A.S.
weard, a guard (Etym. Diet.).
Head-stall, n. A stout sort of bridle for fastening a horse to the
manger.
Heaver, n. A stile that may be lifted from between fixed posts.
Hedge-betty, n. A hedge-sparrow.
Hedge-bill, n. A long-handled hooked blade for cutting hedges,
much stronger than a brush-hook.
Heel, n. The top crust of a loaf. Uncommon.
Heft, n. Weight. In sense of heaving, Wint. Tale, ii. 1,
" with violent heft*." v. To weigh.
Hele, v. To cover up, as seed, potatoes, &c. Often pronounced
yeal, or yill. A.S. helan, to cover. Comp. Lat. celare and
cella (Skeat).
Hell-rake, n. A large rake drawn along to collect outlying
wisps of hay. Der. ell, or heel (?).
High-minded, adj. At a comparatively high mental level. " 'E
was that 'igh-minded as I couldn't understand 'is sermons no
more nor nothin'."
Hile, v. To push with the horn.
Hilt, n. A young sow for breeding.
Hiring-money, n. The shilling given at a mop to engage a
servant.
Hit, n. A crop. " A good hit o' fruit." Icel. hitta, to hit
upon, meet with (Etym. Diet.).
Hob, n. A third swarm of bees from one hive.
Hobbedy's-lantern, n. Will-o'-the-wisp.
Hog, v. To cut hair short, as a horse's mane. " Provincial
Will THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
English " ; probably der. bag, Scotch weakened form of hack
il'.tvm. Diet.).
Hollow-way, n. A road between high banks.
Honesty, n. Wild clematis, traveller's joy.
Hoop, or Cock-hoop, n. A bullfinch. Nope, in Drayton's
Polyolb. xiii. (Nares). •
Hoop-drift, n. A cooper's tool for tightening the hoops on a
barrel.
Hoot, v. To cry out.
Hoove, v. (Hall.) To hoe.
Horse-stinger, to. A dragon-fly.
However, adv. In short, in any case ; generally placed at the
end of a sentence.
Hud, to. (Hall.) Husk, case (hood?).
Hull, v. To shell, as peas.
Humbug, to. A kind of sweetmeat.
Humbuz, w. A cockchafer.
Humoursome, adj. Full of humours, whimsical.
Hump, v. To grumble.
Hundred, n. (1) Long, by machine weight, 112 lb. ; by count,
six score = 126. (2) Short, by steelyard weight, 100 lb. ; by
count, one hundred. E.g., a hundred of asparagus, of oranges,
of walnuts, &c, would be 126 (see Score) ; a hundred of her-
rings, 100.
Hurdle-bumper, n. A sheep's head.
Hurrish, v. To drive cattle.
Ill-convenient, adj. Pron. of inconvenient.
Inch-meal, adv. Inch by inch. See Limmel.
Inch-tree, to. Pron. of hinge-tree, the upright side of a gate to
which the hinges are attached.
Inons, n. Pron. of onions. Anglo-French oynon (Etym. Diet.).
Insense, v. To inform, or make to understand.
Item, to. (Hall.) A hint or intimation. " I whistled to Jim to
give him an item as the gaffer were a-comin'."
Jack-up, v. To dismiss, cashier ; also to resign employment.
Jack-squealer, n. A swift.
Jessup, v. Syrup, juice. Uncommon.
Justicing, part. Going before the magistrates.
Justly, adv. Exactly. " I couldn't justly say."
Kay'old, adj. Pron. of keyhold :' applied to house property with
no legal owner, and claimed by the occupier.
Keaj,'h, mterj. Hallo! Fsed in calling to a dog. or in express-
ing wonder or incredulity. Probably abbreviation of " look
here." Pronounced as a monosyllable, with stress on the first
two letters.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XIX
Heckle, v. To cough or choke. Com,]), chuckle, and cackle.
Keeeh, n. A thick layer, as of hay. (Lump, or mass in 1 Hen.
IV. ii. 4, and Hen. VIII. i. 1.)
Keen. v. To sharpen, as a knife.
Keffel. n. Term of reproach or disparagement for a horse. Gefftjl
is Welsh for horse. Comp. Lat. caballus, and French, Spanish,
Italian, and Irish equivalents.
Kell, n. The caul of an animal.
Kelp, or Killup, v. To yelp as a dog does ; to worry by talking.
Comp. A.S. gilpan, to talk noisily (Etym. Diet.).
Kernel, n. A gland swollen hard. Formed from A.S. corn,
grain (Etym. Diet.).
Kibble, v. to split, crush, or coarsely grind, as oats, beans, or
Indian corn ; n. {phi.) lumps of coal about the size of swan's
eggs.
Kid, n. A faggot, v. To make into faggots.
Kind. adj. Applied to plants, trees, roots, &c. ; natural, as good
as their kind is capable of being. Comp. genus, genial.
•• There's a smart fyaou opples, but they don't look kind."
n. Ant. and Cleop. v. 2, "The worm will do his ki>id, v act
according to his nature. " Kindless, 1 ' Ham. ii. 2, unnatural
(Xares). A.S. ci/ndc, natural (Etym. Diet.).
Kindle, v . Of rabbits, to bring forth young. As You Like It,
iii. 2. Der. A.S. cynde, originally, born.
Kipe, n. A basket of circular form, wider at top than at bottom ;
it should properly hold two pecks and a half.
Kipe-ful, n. The smallest measure in selling coal.
Kaoll, v. To toll, as a bell. Comp. kneU ; Macb. v. 7, " His
knell is inolled" (Nares).
Knubblings, n. (Hall.) Lumps hand-picked out of best coal,
weighing about from 5 lb. to 101b.
'Kyander, inter] . Look yonder !
Lade-gaun. n. A vessel attached to a stick, for ladling out
liquid.
Lamp, v. To beat soundly.
Lap. v. To wrap.
Lashings, n. Abundance, lots. Abbreviation of lavishing '
Laze, h. Laziness.
Leaf. n. A membrane in a pig from which the lard is obtained.
Learn, v, To teach. Psalm (Prayer-book) xxv. 4, 8 ; A.S.
Ictran (Etym. Diet.).
Leatheren-bat, n. A bat.
'Lections, m. Likelihood, chance. " No 'lections of rahyn."
Leeze, v. To glean. A.S. le&an iSkeat).
XX THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Lew-warm, adj. Lukewarm, tepid. Lew by itself used in same
sense by Wiclif, Rev. hi. 16.
Lie-in, v. To cost. " 'Twill lie you in a matter of ten shillings."
Lif, adv. Pron. of lief, willingly.
Light-of, v. To meet with. " Light-on," Gen. xxviii. 11 ; 2
Kings x. 15.
Limb, n. Elliptical expression applied only to a boy ; a scape-
grace.
Limmel, adv. Pron. of limb-meal, limb from hmb. A.S. mail,
a portion (Etym. Diet.).
Lissom, adj. Supple, pliant, active ; blithesome (Etym. Diet.).
Listy, adj. Applied to bread when heavy and streaked, owing
to under-baking : A.S. list, a stripe or border (Etym. Diet.).
Livery, adj. Applied to soil that is moist and tenacious, and
hangs to the spade.
Lode, n. A ferry, or ford ; A.S. lad, a course. Comp. lead,
v. (Skeat).
Loose, v. (1) To walk alone, as an infant. (2) To let go.
Lop, n. Severed branches.
Lovering, part. Making love, courting.
Lumbersome, adj. Heavy, awkward to move.
Lumpus, adv. In a lump, heavily (applied to a fall). " 'E
come down lumpus."
Lungeous, adj. Impetuous, violent ; ready to strike, kick, &c.
Luny, adj. Mentally soft. Comp. lunatic.
Lush, v. To beat down with green boughs, as wasps. Comp
lash.
Lye, n. Water in which wood ashes have been steeped.
Madam, n. A title of respect used ironically by itself, but bona
fide when prefixed to a surname.
Magget, n. A magpie.
Maggoty, adj. Of a child, fractious, ill-humoured.
Market-peert, adj. Excited by liquor. This savours of the
drinking customs which beset marketing and dealing.
Martin-ayfer, n. A heifer naturally incapable of breeding, as is
the case with a female twin calf when the other is a male.
Maslin, adj. Composed of mixed materials. A maslin kettle is
one made of bell-metal. Becoming scarce.
Masonter, n. A mason.
Mawkin, or Malkin, n. (1) A scare-crow (female) figure. Comp.
" malkin," Coriol. ii. 1, and Per. P. of Tyre, iv. 4. (2) See
Scovin.
Mawlers, n. Hands.
Mawmbling, adj. Wandering in mind and speech.
Mawrnet, n. An effigy or scare-crow. Wiclif calls an idol a
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XXI
mawmet. Acts vii. 41, xv. 20; Rom. ii. 22; &c. Der., on
Incus principle, from the iconoclastic Mahomet ? " Mammet,*'
for doll, Rom. and Jul. iii. 5, and 1 Hen. IV. iv. 3.
Mayfish, re. A fish said to be found only in the Severn, amongst
English rivers, and in the Mediterranean Sea; also called
Twayt.
Meaty, adj. Of store animals, rather fleshy than fat.
Meeching, adj. Melancholy, complaining.
Melch-hearted, adj. Gentle, diffident, poor-spirited. Comp.
"milk-livered," K. Lear, iv. 2.
Mess, n. Applied contemptuously to anything unsatisfactory
or insignificant. " Tis but a poor little mess of a place."
Messenger, n. A small detached cloud (cumulus) floating low,
and supposed to betoken rain. Sometimes called a Carrier.
Mess-over, v. To make much of, to spoil, as a child.
Middle-bond, re. The strip of leather, or, by preference, large
eel-skin, which forms part of the caplin, and connects the nile
with the hand-stick of a flail.
Middhng, adj. (Hall.) Not in good health.
Miff, n. A falling out. " We 'ad a bit of a miff."
Mighty, adv. Very. Comp. Lat. valide, valde. See Desperate
Mde, v. Pron. of moil, to make dirty (so bile for boil, quine for
quoin, &c). "Bemoil," Tarn o' Shanter, iv. 1.
Millard, re. Miller (mill-ward).
Mimp, v. To make a pretence, to sham. Probably all. to
mumper, a beggar (Skeat).
Minty, adj. Full of cheese-mites.
Miscall, v. To speak unkindly to.
Mishterful, adj. Mischievous.
Miskin, n. Same as mixen, a dung-heap. A.S. miscan, to mix
(Etym. Diet.).
Miss, re. Want. " Tom's lost 'is place ; and 'e'll find of it afore
winter, and feel the miss o' good fittle."
Missus, re." A man's wife.
Misword, re. An unkind word. " We was fellow-servants nigh
upon two year, 'er and me, and never 'ad a misword."
Mix-out, v. To clean out, as a cowhouse.
Moggy, n. Vocative and pet name for a calf.
Moithered, adj. Harassed, dazed, bothered.
Molly, v. To do woman's work indoors, being a man. " 'E
were a good un to molly for hisself, were old Joe."
Mommock, v. To cut in pieces, to cut to waste, as food : Coriol.
i. 3.
Moon, re. An ox-eye daisy.
Mop, n. A statute fair, for hiring servants.
XX11 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Mmum. n. A vagary, a freak, a whimsical peculiarity*
Mose. v. To smoulder, as green wood on fire.
Mosey, or Mawsey (Hall), adj. Gone soft and woolly, as fruit.
Fr. moist /
Motty. ii. A mark to throw at.
Mouch, v. To pilfer eatahles. All. to mich, to skulk (Skeat).
Muckshut. n. The time just before dark, twilight. Mirk-shade?
but comp. "cock-shut time," Ric III. v. 3: and see Shut for
shoot ; according to the latter analogy, the veil of darkness
is shot, or flung, over the earth.
Mudgin, n. The fat on the chitterlings of a pig, called mugerom
in the north (Skeat).
Mug, v. To enlist a man by drink for towing a boat. Dying
out.
Mullen, n. The bridle of a cart-horse.
Mullock, n. A mess, a litter.
Mumruffin, n. (Hall.) The long-tailed titmouse.
Hunger, v. To mutter, to grumble (g soft).
Huse, n. An opening in a fence through which a hare passeR
(pronounced, muce). "Them Welshmen (Welsh sheep) 'd
go through a rabbit run or a bar' muce." " Husit " in same
sense, Venus and Adon. (Nares).
Must, or Hast, n. The cake of apples pressed for cider, after
it has been wrung through the hairs,
s'abble, v. To gnaw. Comp. nibble.
Nag, n. To worry with reproaches. " Provincial ; but a good
word. From Swedish nagga, to nibble, peck. A doublet of
gnaw." (Etym. Diet.).
Niger, v. To work hard. Dcr. nigger.
Nail-passer, v. A gimlet.
Nails, n. Belongings, goods and chattels.
Natif, n. Native place.
Nay-word, n. A by- word; a name of ridicule or reproach.
Twelfth Night, ii. 3 (Xares).
Neighbour, v. To visit about and gossip. " I never was one
for neigJibowrvn} '."
Nesh, adj. Delicate, tender: used by Chaucer (Xares).
NiKs, n. The handles which stand out from the scythe-snead.
Nicker, n. To snigger. A.S. hn&gan, to neigh.
Nifle, v. To idle or " loaf" ; n. a fit of idleness. " You've bin
on the nipZe," or " on the niflmg pin."
Nlld", and Niddle, n. A needle. A.S. na-dl. Nild dying out.
Nile, a. The upper part of a flail, that which beats the corn.
The " Shropshire Word-book " makes the nile the same as
the caplin, and for the meaning of the former, according to
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XXlU
Upton use, gives " swipple." Hall, gives il swingel " as " Var.
Dial.," but gives " nile," in the Upton sense, as " Salop."
Nip, v. To move quickly. " I nips athirt the ground and gives
'im the meetin'."
Xippled, adj. (of a knife, scythe, &c.) Notched. Comp. nib and
neb, in the sense of point or projection.
Nisgal, n. The smallest pig in a litter.
Nither, n. (Hall.) A grimace, also a shiver. "All uv a
nither." v. To grin as a dog, to grimace; to shiver with cold.
Nobby, 7i, Vocative and pet name tor a colt.
Noration, n. Busybody's talk. Distorted use of oration.
Nose-bleed, n. A bleeding at the nose.
Xunchion, n. Luncheon (no etymological connection) ; pro-
perly, none-schenche, i.e. noon-drink. A.S. scenca)i, to pour
out (Skeat) ; comp. " under-skinker," 1 Hen. IV. ii. 4, and
" skink," B. Jons., New Inn, i. 3.
Nurdy. n. Used as nisgal; a small, unhealthy creature: a
weakling. In Yorkshire, a wreckling.
Nurra-one, n. Never-a-one, nobody.
Oath, v. To swear. " I'll oath it."
Obbly-onkers, n. The game of " conquer-nut," played with
strung horse-chestnuts. Obbly was probably nobbly or
knobbly, expressing the appearance of the string of nuts, and
onkers was probably invented as a rhyme to "conquers."
The doggerel attached to the game here is —
" 'Obbly, obbly, onkeis, my first conquers ;
'Obbly, obbly, 0, my first go ! "
Mrs. Chamberlain, who spells the word differently, adds —
"Hobley, hobley ack, my first crack."
Ockerd, adj. Pron. of awkward ; contrary, when applied to
weather or temper. Formerly an adverb ; M.E. awh, auk,
contrary; ward, a suffix, as in fox* ward, backward, &c. (Etym.
Diet.).
Oddments, n. Odds and ends.
Odds, n. A difference. "There's odds in childern." v. To
balance, as an account.
Offiing, adj. Of no account, refuse. Der. offal.
Old, adj. (1) Cunning, especially as applied to children. (2)
Displeased, angry. " He looked very old at me."
Old-maid, n. A horse-fly ; in Yorkshire called a cleg.
Oldness, n. Cunning, especially of children.
Ordain, v. To make right, or set to rights ; vaguely applied to
many ways of doing so.
Orl, n. The alder ti - ee.
Otheren, adj. Other. " Every othercn day."
XXIV THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Ottomy, or Nottomy, n. A very thin person. Der. atom, or
anatomy ? (1) As You Like It, iii. 2, and 2 Hen. IV. v. 4 ;
(2) K. John iii. 4.
Ouless, or Oless, adj. Neglectful, unwilling to take trouble.
" 'Er don't sim to take no delight in 'er work ; 'er's got reg'lar
ouless."
Out-asked, part. Said of a couple whose marriage-banns have
been asked in church three times. " They was out-ashed
Sunday was a fortnight."
Outride, n. The district of a commercial traveller.
Over, v. To repeat again and again.
Over-get, v. To get over, as trouble or sickness.
Owner, n. One who owns a boat, barge, or trow. Used as a
vocative and as a prefix. " Do you know what's the matter
with Owner Smith ?" "Well, sir, I did hear as the doctor
should say as it were purity (pleurisy)."
Ox-puddings, n. Pron. of hog's-puddings; a large sort of
sausages, made from the leaf of a pig, chopped up and stewed
with cutlins, rice, rosemary, sage, leek, organy, and spice.
Innovators add sugar and currants. Sometimes coloured
with blood.
Pantle, v. To pant.
Pass-out, v. Of the passing bell, to toll (trans, and intr.).
" Send Jack up to pass-out the bell." " The bell's just passed
out for ould Kester."
Paymaster, n. An employer of labour, a payer of wages.
Peasipouse, n. Peas and beans grown together as a crop. Lat.
pisa, a pea, and puis, pottage made of peas, pulse, &c. (Etym.
Diet).
Peck, n. A point (peak) : " The peck o' the shou'der." See
Pick. v. To fall forward (pitch).
Peck-ed, part, (two syllables). Pointed (peaked). A boat is
peck-ed at both ends, and a trow is round at both ends.
Peck-shaft, n. The handle of a pick-axe. Peak, peck, pike,
and pick have a Celtic origin. Shaft is A.S. sceaft. Comp.
shave, and shape (Etym. Diet.).
Peerk, n. (sing. &n<\.plu.) A perch, or perches, inland measure.
Peert, adj. Lively, in good spirits. " The pert and nimble
spirit of youth." Mids. Night's Dr. i. 1.
Peerten-up, v. To become lively.
Perished, part. Dead, or half dead, from cold or decay,
l'hleem, n. Pron. of phlegm.
Pick, orjPeck, n. (1) A pickaxe; M.E. pikois, or pikeys ; not
an axe at all (Etym. Diet.). (2) A pointed hammer for
breaking coal.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XXV
Pie-finch, n. A chaffinch.
Pig-meat, n. Meat which is not bacon from a bacon-pig.
Pigs-cot, n. A pig-sty. A.S. cote and cyte, a den (Etym. Diet.).
Pigs-fry, n. The liver, lights, heart, mudgin, &c, of a pig, sold
for frying.
Pilch, v. (1) To poke with the horn. (2) To pilfer.
Pin, n. A fit, an inclination, a mood. See Nine.
Pip, n. The blossom of the cowslip, v. To pull the blossom
out for making wine.
Pishty, n. Vocative and pet name for a dog.
Pitch-poll, adv. Head over heels, v. (1) To turn head over heels.
(2) To sell an article for double the price it cost.
Pit-hole, n. A grave.
Plack, or Pleck, n. A plot of ground.
Plants, n. Young brocoli, borecole, brussels-sprouts, &c.
Playcher, n. Pron. of pleacher, or plasher ; a stem in a hedge
half cut through and bent down. " The pleached bower,"
Much Ado, iii. 1. Comp. plait ; der. plectere (Etym. Diet.).
Plim, v. To swell or be plumped out, as bacon in boiling.
Plim-bob, n. A plummet.
Plunge, n. A falling into, or going under, trouble or sickness.
Plunt, n. A cudgel. Stronger form of plant ?
Poke, or Pouk, n. A pustule (pock), especially a sty in the eye.
A.S. poc, a pustule (Etym. Diet.).
Pole-ring, n. The ring which fastens the head of the scythe-
blade to the snead.
Polt, v. To beat down, as fruit; to thump, n. A blow.
Pomp, v. To pamper or feed up ; spoiled children are said to
be pomped-up ; also horses and other animals for sale.
Pookfoist, n. A kind of fungus, a puff-ball. " Puck " is pro-
bably the first syllable (Skeat).
Porket, n. A young pig for small pork.
Pot, n. A local measure containing from 4£ to 5 pecks. Of
potatoes, plums, and pears the weight is 84 lb. ; of plums
and onions 721b. ; of gooseberries 631b. See Side (2).
Pot-fruit, n. Eating fruit, as distinguished from that made
into cider or perry.
Pot-hampern, n. A hamper containing a pot.
Prawl, or Proll, v. To do needlework in a rough and clumsy
way. The word is dying out.
Prichell, v. To goad or prick.
Primmy-rose,, n. Pron. of primrose. " Primerole," Chaucer
C. T. 3,268 (Etym. Diet.).
Promp, v. To curvet, and show high spirits, as a horse.
Prompt, adj. Spirited, as a horse.
XXVI THE NATION IN THE PAHISH.
Pug, n, A quill left in plucked fowl. " Ckockful o' pugs,
v. To pull, to pluck.
Pure, adj. Well in health. " I be quite pu re."
Purgatory, n. An ash-hole under the grate.
Purgy, adj. Cross, surly ; g hard.
Pussy-cats, n. Catkins.
Putcheon, n. A wicker eel-trap, smaller than a wheel ; u pro-
nounced as in put.
Quarter, n. One of the four compartments of the bag of a cow.
Quice, n. A wood-pigeon.
Quick, n. Growing hawthorn.
Quilt, v. To beat (welt).
Quilter, n. A big one, synonym of whopper. " 'Ere's a quilter
of a cowcumber ! " " Owner, 'as you seen Quilter White
to- dairy ?"
Quiz, or Quizzit, v. To ask prying questions. Cowp. quest.
Pace, n. The pluck of a sheep or calf. v. Pron. of rase, to
scratch or abrade.
Raffage, n. A heap of refuse, odds and ends. A fishing n^t
.gets full of raff age. German, raffeln, to snatch up ; Fr.
rafler, to catch or seize (Etyin. Diet.).
Rain-bat, n. A small beetle, on the killing of which rain is
expected shortly to ensue.
Raise-the-place, v. To make a disturbance. " 'E's an on-
accountable lungeous chap. 'E were like to raise the place
becos my little wench fetched a turmit out of 'is ground."
Rake-turn, v. To rake tedded grass into ridges, so as to expose
the under side to the sun and wind. Sometimes Hack, or
Hack-rake, is used to designate this process, n. The ridge
formed by rake-turning.
Ramp, n. An ascent in a wall- coping.
K indom, adj. Headlong, impulsive.
Rangle, v. Pron. of rankle, as a wound does.
Rasty, or Raisty, adj. Rancid, as bacon (rusty).
Rave, v. To speak loudly.
Reap, n. A sheaf or bundle of corn, beans, &c. ; A.S. ripqn,
to reap.
Redix. >< Used only at marbles. When a boy has placed his
marble in a certain position, and afterwards finds that another
position would be more advantageous, if he can say, " No
first my reddx" before anyone else says, " First your redix "
he may make the change, but not otherwise. Probably con-
nected with Lat. di.ii .
Reen, n. The last bout of a veering (little used). Comp. rain,
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XXV11
Northern for ridge (Hall.), and rein, Icel. for a strip of land
• (Skeat).
Refuse, n. Refusal. " Master Wilhvm promised me the refuse
o' that bit o' ground."
Relish, n. Any sort of condiment ; pickle, red-herring, &c.
Ribbet, n. Pron. of rivet. •
Rick-mould, n. An imaginary implement, represented by any
heavy weight in a bag, which a victim, inexperienced in hay-
making, is sent to borrow, and has to carry for a long distance,
with strict injunctions not to drop it.
Rid, v. To clear away, to dispatch ; 3 Hen. VI. v. 5.
Riddlings, n. Large pebbles sifted out of gravel ; comp. A.S.
hridian, to sift (Etym. Diet.).
Riff, n. The itch.
Rifle, v. To rouse or startle. " The youngster's got the 'iccups
bad ; you rifle 'im a bit."
Rig, ft. A sprain, v. To sprain. Rarely used except of the
back.
Rippirjg, part, (of frost or cold). Sharp, cuttiDg.
Rivel, v. To shrivel or wrinkle. " The rivell'd lips " (Cowp.
Task, ii. 488).
Road, n. Way or method. " 'Er don't know the right road to
dink a babby."
Robbie, n. Pron. of ravel; a tangle, v. To entangle.
Rodney, adj. Rough and idle. "A rodney sort of a chap."
Rommely, adj. (of bacon, &c.) Greasy.
Ronk, adj. Pron. of rank ; strong, of luxuriant growth. A.S.
ranc, strong, forward (Etym. Diet.).
Root, n. Pron. of rut.
Ropy, adj. Stringy ; applied to bread and to cider.
Rowens, ft. Chaff and refuse after threshing.
Rox, v. To soften ; hence roxed, applied to fruit, means
decayed. Also applied to phlegm.
Rubber, ft. A stone for whetting a scythe.
Rubbling, part. Pertaining to rough work. " I don't want
no more nor a rubblin' gurl for my work." " I on'y wants
a rubblin' place for the wench."
Rudgel, or Ridgul, n. (g soft) (1) a half-gelding. (2) A waster.
Sade, v. To weary (sate ?). " Saded of gruel." "A sading job."
Sag, ft. Flags, rushes, older form of sedge (Skeat). v. To be
weighed down in the middle, as a rope loosely stretched.
Sag-seated, adj. Rush-bottomed.
Silly, ft. (1) a kind of willow; comp. Lat. salix. (2) The fluffy
part above the lower end of a church bell-rope, mainly used
in chiming.
XXV111 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Sapy, adj. Gone moist, soddened, as meat, poultry, &c. All.
to Low German sipan, to trickle, and to soap rather than to
sap (Skeat).
Scambling, adj. Make-shift. " 'E made a scambling job of it."
Scarf, n. To unite two pieces of timber end to end. Der.
Swedish sJca/rf, a seam or joint (Etym. Diet.).
Scawt, or Scote, i\ To scramble, slip about, or scrape the
ground with the feet.
Score, n. (1) Twenty-one in selling plants for growing, cucum-
bers, asparagus, radishes, &c. ; but mostly used as an aliquot
part of the " long hundred " (see Hundred). (2) The core of
an apple.
Scout, v. To drive away. All. to shove and shoot, from Scan-
dinavian origin (Etym. Diet.).
Scovin, n. (o as in oven) A cloth, mat, or old fishing-net,
attached to a pole and used for cleaning out a baker's oven.
Hall, gives " scovel, a baker's maulkin." Sometimes scurvin,
or scuffle. Becoming scarce.
Scrabble, or Scrobble, v. To scramble.
Scratcher, n. A machine for cider-making.
Scratching?, n. (Hall) Fragments strained out of lard in
melting, and made into a dish.
Scrawl, v. Pron. of crawl.
Screenings, n. Fine gravel.
Scribe, v. To mark wood with a pencil or instrument, as a
carpenter does.
Scribing-iron, n. A tool for marking trees for felling.
Scriggling, n. A stunted apple. All. to scraggy (Skeat).
Scroodge, v. To squeeze, to crowd. " I likes them chairs ; us
can't be scroodged in 'em, like we was in the old church."
Scroodle, v. To cower, crouch.
Scutch, n. Couch-grass (u pronounced as in butcher).
Seed-lip, n. A wooden vessel for sowing seed, shaped for carry-
ing on the hip.
Seeds, n. Growing clover (pronounced, sids).
Senna, v. Pron. of sinew.
Set, v. To let, as house or land.
Settle, n. A long seat with a high back. A.S.setl. Comp. Lat.
scdilc.
Sbad-salmon. n. Another name for the shad. Of doubtful use.
Shard, or Shord, n. A gap in a hedge.
Sharps, n. Same as gurgeons.
Shearhog, n. A two-year-old sheep.
Sheed, v. Pron. of shed.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XXIX
Sheppiek, or Shuppick, n. Pron. of sheaf-pike, a pitch-fork.
Ship. n. Pron. of sheep. Hence in Acts xxvii. danger has heen
experienced of confusing shipwreck with the more familiar
sheep-rack.
Showl, n. Pron. of shovel. " I, said the owl, with nry spade
and showl " (Death of Cock Kobin).
Shroud, v. Anions the watermen the sun is said to shroud, or
s'i-oikI, when its rays appear through the clouds slanting to
the horizon, in a form resembling the shrouds of a ship. It is
then said to be " drawing water," and rain is predicted.
Shuck, v. Pron. of shake. " Tick the best on em, and then
shuck the tree."
Shud. n. Pron. of shed.
Shurty, adj. Angry.
Shut.'/', (shoot) A cast or throw of a fishing-net. adj.
Shot, rid (often pronounced, shet); A.S. sceotan, to shoot
(Etym. Diet.).
Bidder, adj. Soft, mellow ; applied to peas that will boil well
when old, and to land which will grow such peas ; also to
decayed wood. Probably all. to seethe (Skeat).
Side. it. (1) A company. " A strong side at the pea-picking.
(2) A measure of cherries or of currants, weighing 63 lb.
Skeel, n. A shallow wooden vessel for washing butter in ; a
like vessel, but larger, and spouted, used in brewing.
Skim-dick, n. Poor cheese.
Skip, n. A shallow basket made of oak laths, with rounded
bottom and ends, and an opening at either end by way of
handles.
SI awn. it. Phi. of sloe.
Slick, adj. (sleek). Smooth and shiny, as of ice or hair. v. To
make smooth and shiny. " Slick yer 'air afore yer goes."
Slimber, v. To take work easily.
Slinkveal, n. The flesh of a newly-born calf.
Slither, y. To slide.
Sliver, n. A piece cut off. K. Lear, iv. 2. v. Ham. iv. 7.
Coin]), slice.
Slob, n. Pron. of slab ; the outside cut of a tree when sawn
into planks.
Slobberdv. adj. Dirty, sloppy. " Slobbery." applied to land,
Hen. V. iv. 5.
Slummacking, adj. Slovenly. Probably an " imitative word "
(Skeat).
Smart, adj. Good or well in a vague sense. " A smart lot."
" I'm smartish."
Smite, n. A mite, a bit. " Every smite of it."
R
XXX THE NATION IN THE PAEISH.
Smudge, n. A kiss. v. To kiss.
Snead, n. The curved pole to which the scythe-hlade is hung.
Pronounced, sned.
Sniping, p>art. (of frost or cold). Biting, sharp. All, to
sneap, snap, and snub (Etym. Diet.).
Snirp, v. To shrivel or wither.
Snitchocks, n. A disease in game birds like the gapes in poultry.
Snob, v- To sob.
Snope, n. A thump or slap. v. To strike, to slap. Dealers on
concluding a bargain sa}', " Snope it down," i.e., " Strike
hands on it" (co»tp., " Strike-me-luck," Hudibras, ii. 1, 5o'.l,
quoted by Nares). All. to sneap, v., Love's Labour Lost
i. 1, and n., 2 Hen. IV. ii. 1 ; also to snub and snap (Skeat).
Snowier, n. A blow on the head. " Nowl," head, Mids. Night's
Dr., iii. 2.
Sock, or Sockage, n. The drainage from cattle-sheds, <kc. Dei:
soak ; A.S. mean, also sugan, to suck (Etym. Diet.).
Solid, adj. Grave, serious.
Solium, v. To sulk. " 'Er 'ud sit sollumin' for an hour
together."
Spall, v. To f plinter, as the under side of a bough in sawing ; n. a
splinter. From Teutonic base spald, to splinter (Etym. Diet ).
Spear, n. The spirelet, or sprout, which, if not checked, would
appear at one end of the grain when malting barley ger-
minates after steeping. See " ackersprit," and " acrospire "
in Hall,
Spine of the back, n. The spine (which is never mentioned
alone).
Spittal, ». A spade. ^
Spittal-tree, n. A spade-handle.
Spot, n. Of cider, beer, rain, See., a drop. v. To begin to rain,
to rain slightly.
Sprack, or sprackt, adj. Lively, bright. Sir H. Evans pro-
nounces it spray, Mer. W. W. iv. 1.
Spreader, n. A stick to keep the traces from the heels of cart-
horses.
Square, n. In thatchers' and builders' work a superficial area
ten feet square.
Squat, v. To prevent a wheel from rolling by blocking it.
Squench, v. Pron. of quench. " 'Tis both equenchin' and
feedin', that oatmeal drink."
Si | nib, n. A squirt, v. To squirt.
Squilt, n. A pimple or pustule.
Staddle, it. A rick-stand.
Staggering-bob, n. A very young calf slaughtered.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XXXI
Stale, n. The handle of a mop, broom, pitchfork, &c. A.S.
stal, atel (Etym. Diet.).
Stam, n. Prpn. of stem. " That old 'awthorn stum wants
stockin' up."
Standy, adj. Wilful, defiant, froward (applied to children only).
Stank, n. A dam or stoppage in a stream. Year-Hooks of
Ed. I. i. 415, estanq, a pool; ii. 451, estanh, a mill-dam
(Etym. Diet.). Comp. Lat. stagnant, v. To dam or stop
water. Comp. stanch.
Stileh, or Stelch, n. (1) A post in a cow-house to which cows
are tied; a variant of stalk, and all. to stilt (Skeatj. (2) A
breadth across a field which a labourer would take for
reaping, &c.
Stiving, pitrt. Close, stifling (Hall.) ; stived up, almost stifled.
Stock, v. To strike with a point, as a bird with its beak. ( 'omp.
stock-axe, also stoccata (fencing term) and stuck (n.) Twelfth
Night, iii. 4.
Stock-eekle, n. A woodpecker.
Stook, or Stuck, n. From sis to ten sheaves set upright in the
field, v. To set up in a stook.
Stop-glat, n. A stop-gap.
Stopless, n. The wooden lid of a brick oven (little used now).
Storm, n. A shower.
Storm-cock, n. A missel-thrush.
Stoul, n. The butt of a tree left in the ground (stool).
Strike, n. A piece of wood for striking level the contents of a
bushel measure.
Stub, n. (1) A prop at the bottom of a post. (2) Same as Stoul.
Stuck, n. The handle of a jug (stalk).
Sturly, adj. Staring, as applied to the coat of an animal.
Substance, n. A tumour.
Suity, adj. Of a sort, level ; used by pig-dealers to signify an
even and level lot.
Sun-dog, n. An appearance among clouds, like a small fragm
of a rainbow, supposed to foretell rain.
Supper, v. To give supper to, as to cows.
Swag, n. Sway, balance.
Swale, or Sweal, v. To singe or Imrn. A.S. swelan, to burn.
Comp. swelter and sultry (Etym. Diet.).
Sward, n. Rind, as of bacon. A.S. sweard, the skin of bacon
(Etym. Diet.).
Swardy, adj. With thick rind.
Swelth, n. Swelling.
Swill, v. To cleanse by flooding. A child in a school, being
asked what the Almighty did to the world in Noah's days,
XXXU THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
graphically replied, "A twilled un." A.S. swilian, to wash.
Coii/jK scullery (Etyin. Diet.).
Swimy, adj. Having a swimming in the head.
Swinge, v. Pron. of singe.
Swither, n. (Hall.) Perspiration. Comp. Lat. sudor.
Tabher, v. To tap or drum ; Nahnm ii. 7. Comp. tabor.
Tack, n. (1) Stuff, materials. (2) Keep for cattle.
Taddy, adj. Tot-bellied.
Taggyfinch, n. A chaffinch.
Tail-wheat, n. The inferior portion of a dressing kept for home
consumption.
Tale, n. A story of doubtful authority. " Don't you listen to
what them chaps says, Owner; 'tis nothin' but tales."
Tallat. //. A loft used for hay, &e.
Tancel, v. To beat. Der. tan? Comp. Fr. tancer, to chide
iSkeati.
Tang, v. To cause a swarm of bees to settle by a clanging
sound ; also, to claim the ownership of it by the same process.
Ted, v. To toss and spread about mown grass in hay-making.
Teem, v. To pour out.
Teert, adj. Smarting. A.S. teart, whence tart, adj. (Skeat).
Teg, n. A sheep at a year old. Ray, 16th century, spells it
tagj;e.
Tempest, n. A lliunderstorm.
Terrify, v. To astonit-h, to annoy or trouble strangely. See
Deadly and Desperate.
That, adv. So. " 'E's got that fat I must be to kill 'im soon."
Tlieave, n. A ewe at a year old.
ThiUer, >i. The shaft-horse in a team. " Filler," Mer. of V. ii. 2.
Thill is the shaft, closely allied to deal or thel (used in 1580),
a plank (Etym. Diet.).
Think-on, v. To remember.
Thrave, or Threave, n. [svng.andplu.) Twenty-four boltings of
straw. Icel. thrcfi (Skeat). Originally, a handful.
Thrifty, adj. Thriving, as a pig.
Thripples,. «. Same as " ripples," in Shropshire; a movable
:iit;ichinent of rails to enable a cart or waggon to carry loose
material, as hay or straw. Sometimes called " ladder."
TLiink, >/. A thong.
Ticefools, n. Puff-balls, from their likeness to mushrooms.
Tice-penny, n. and adj. Catch-penny.
Tiddle, v. To make much of, to fondle.
Tiddling, ». A pel animal.
Tidy, adj. Resi>ectable ; also good or well in a vague sense.
••'A /'/(///chap." "A tidy lot o' ciurants." " I'm pretty tidy .
THE NATION IX THE PARISH. XXX1H
Tilth, n. A freshly turned furrow.
Times, adv. Often, time after time.
TiqcI, v. To kindle, as a candle or fire. Comp. tinder. '"Tine"
(v.), Faery Q. II. xi. 21.
Tissucking, adj. (applied to a cough only) Dry and hacking.
Corruption of phthisical.
Titter, n. A see-saw. Comp. " Titterstone," one of the Clee
Hills, called after a rocking-stone thereon ; also totter.
Titty, n. The mother's breast. A.S. tit.
Top-and-tail, v. To take off tops and bottoms from turnips,
mangold wurzels, &c, while pulling them up.
Top-up, v. To finish at the top, as a hay-rick.
Torril. //. A creature not good for much ; applied to mankind
and brutes.
Tosty-ball. n. A cowslip-ball.
Tot, >t. A small mug.
Totterdy, adj. Unsteady, infirm.
Tow, n A chain for hauling timber. Pronounced, taou.
Towel, v. To beat.
Traffic, n. A track or passage made by rats, rabbits, &c.
" You'd best lay a trap right in the traffic o' thern rots."
Tram, or Tramming, n. A framework, or a loose arrangement,
of stout parallel rails on short legs, or blocks, for supporting
casks.
Trammel, n. A large drag-net.
Travpl. v. To walk, to have the use of the feet and legs.
" This pig bain't to say bad in 'imself, but 'e don't sim to
travel right."
Tree, n. A plant grown in a pot.
Trig, n. A nick, a shallow trench.
Trimple, v. To tread limpingly, as one with tender feet.
Trow,* n. The largest sort of vessel on the Severn, and
rounded at both ends ; carries up to 130 tons weight (ow as in
cow). Comp. trough. Perhaps all. to tray (Etym. Diet.).
Truel, n. A mason's trowel. Middle English (Etym. Diet.).
Trunk, n. A rough chest, pierced with holes, and moored in
the water for keeping live fish.
Tump, n. A conical heap.
Tun-dish, n. A funnel. Measure for M. iii. 2; A.S. tunne, a
barrel ; Comp. tunnel (Etym. Diet.).
Tup, n. A ram.
Tussock, n. A tuft of coarse grass.
* One of the public-houses in the town bears the name of "The
Severn Trow."
XXXIV THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Twayt, n. Same as May-fish.
Twin, n. A double fruit.
Unaccountable, adv. Uncommonly, surprisingly ; the first
syllable is pronounced, on.
Uncle, n. Familiar vocative in addressing an elder friend.
Der. avunculus, literally, " little grandfather " (Etym. Diet.).
Ungain, adj. Unhandy, inconvenient.
Unked, adj. Dismal, lonely, dreary. M.E. unhid, from un
and hid, p. part, of kijthe, to make known (Burns, Hallowe'en,
st. 3) ; literally, not known ; hence strange, solitary, un-
comfortable, &c. Another form of uncouth (Etym. Diet.).
Unsuity, adj. Not of a sort, not matching.
Up-hill and Up-country, adj. and adv. (applied to wind) North ;
from the north.
I'juin-times, adv. Now and then.
Upset, >i. A disturbance.
Urchin, n. A hedgehog.
Utis, n. A riotous noise, a din ; such as used to accompany
the eighth day of a festival. 2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. Utas, old
Anglo-French form of octaves (Skeat); comp. modern Fr. huit.
Vally, >i. The felloe of awheel; pronounced as valley. A.S.
felga (Etym. Diet.).
Vanm, n. Pron.oiioa.rn.
Veering, n. A certain number of ridges and furrows in plough-
ing. Not much used. Perhaps all. to furrow (Skeat).
Vent, 7i. Demand, use, opportunity of disposal. "No veni
for apples this year." Comp. old use of vent (Fr. ventc),
from vender e (Skeat).
Wad, or Grass- wad, n. A small heap or cock.
Wallush, adj. Insipid, cloying, nauseous. Walsh, common in
M.E. Boiling up, as itwere, in the stomach ; A.S. weallan,
to boil (Skeat).
Warm, v. To beat.
Warm ship, n. Warmth.
Washings, n. Cider made from a second pressing of the cheese
with admixture of water.
Waster, n. A refuse article of imperfect fabric.
Wastril, ii. One who is falling; away in flesh, man or beast.
Water-dog, n. Same as Sun-dog.
Watty-handed, adj. Left-handed; a sounded as in what.
Wave-wind, n. The large wild convolvulus (Sepium).
Way-leave, n. Permission to use a way.
Wazzen, n. The weasand or windpipe (a sounded as in wax) ;
A.S. wasend (Etym. Diet.).
Wed, part. Weeded.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XXXV
Weep, v. To exude (transitive and intransitive).
Well-ended, adj. Well got in, as hay.
Wench, /(. A girl.
Went, part. Gone. " I'd 'a' went myself if I'd a-known as yon
wasn't a-going."
Werrit, n. One of an anxious, fidgetty disposition, v. To
worry. Connected with the worrying of a wolf; A.S. weary,
a wolf (Etyrn. Diet.).
Wether, n. A male sheep disabled from breeding.
What-for, n. A vague threat of unpleasant consequences. " If
I lights uv that young limb, I'll let 'im know wot-for."
Wheel, n. A wicker eel-trap, almost twice the size of a
putcheon.
Whimmy, adj. Given to whims.
Whinnock, v. To cry whiningly as a child ; A.S. hivinan, to
whine (Etym. Diet.).
Whisket, n. A gardening basket.
Whissun-bosses, n. Gueldres-roses.
Wig, n. An oblong bun, made with carraway seeds instead of
currants.
Wilgill, n. An epicene creature ; an animal that is of both
sexes (g soft).
Windle-straw, n. Something easily blown about ; applied to a
corn crop that is light.
Wind-scare, n. An object presenting resistance to the wind.
" Two fut 11 be dip enow for this pwost ; 'e ain't much of a
wind-scare."
Winter-stuff, n. Borecole, brussels-sprouts, savoys, and other
greens.
Wires, n. The runners of strawberry plants.
Wollies, or Wallies, n. Ridges into which hay is raked before
carrying it, or putting it into cocks.
Wonderment, n. Something to stare at or talk about.
Woont, /;. A mole. A.S. wand, found in a Glossary of the
eighth century (Skeat).
Worlers, or Wurlers, n. Gaiters.
Wozzle, or Wuzzle, v. To beat or trample down and twist the
stems, as of grass or corn.
Wratch, n. Pron. of wretch ; applied compassionately. "'E've
not 'ad a wink o' sleep all night, 'e've not, poor wratch."
A.S. ivrecca, an outcast (Etym. Diet.).
Yarb, //. Pron. of herb.
Yow, n. Pron. of ewe; A.S. eown (Etym. Diet.).
Yox, v. To heave or cough. Comp. yex, for hiccough.
Yud, n. Pron. of head.
XXXVI THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
Three other words may be mentioned which, although no
longer current, occur in the parish books of the last century.
" Garderailes " is pronounced by a friend to be an old
term for balustrades. "Type " he thinks may be a corruption
of tympanum, the sounding-board of the pulpit. " Lappertage "
represents something (the repair of which is charged for)
between the two " Hams," or large common meadows ; but no
satisfactory interpretation has been arrived at.
(i
The following phrases are current in Upton : —
A good churchman " = a clergyman with a good voice.
A good man round a barrel, but no cooper " = one who is
fond of drink.
An afternoon farmer" = a farmer who takes things easily,
and is always behindhand.
"As black as black," "as wet as wet;" and so with other
epithets. "Can be "would complete the elliptical sen-
tence.
"At the edge of night " = just before dark.
"By scowl of brow" = judging by eye, and not by rule or
measure.
" In himself (or herself, &c.) " = in his' (or her) general health.
The distinct existence of the corporeal ego and its
subordinate members is clearly recognised. " How are
you to-day, Mary ? " " I be better in myself, sir ; but my
poor leg 'ave got that swelth in 'im as I couldn't get 'itn
along to the top o' the town, not if you was to crown mn."
" Like a humble-bee in a churn ; " said of one whose voice is
not distinctly audible.
" May Hill" = the month of May in relation to consumptive
patients (see Fuller, Worthies, Derbyshire, i. iJ;>2, quoted
in Davies's " Supplemental English Glossary "). " 'Er II
never over-get Main/ 'ill, I doubt, poor wratch."
" Not if you was to crown me " = not for a kingdom.
'• Shuffling jobs " = irregular work.
The tops of the potatoes, Sco., '-have had the soot-bag over
them " — have been blackened by the frost.
To be " off his head " = to be out of his mind.
To be " on the mending hand " = to be improving.
To be "up in the boughs " = to be out of temper, or
haughty.
To " drop it " on a person = to " give it " him.
THE NATION IN THE PARISH. XXXV11
To " get the grant " = to obtain permission.
To " get the turn " = to pass the crisis.
To " get the scog of" = to be able to crow over.
To " give the meeting " = to meet.
To "have a cow calve" = to be left a legacy. '• His last com
has calved now, I expect."
To have " dropped his watch in the bottom of the rick ; " a
jocular hypothesis to account for the catting or turning
of a rick which has become over-heated.
To " have leaden socks in his boots " = to be lazy.
To " know to a nest," &c. = to know of a nest, &c.
To " make a poor out of it " == to obtain small results.
To "mend his draught" = to take another glass.
To " miss every hair of his head " = to miss him sadly.
To "pass the time of day" = to wish good morning, or
evening, &c.
To " pick up a knife " = to get a fall from a horse.
To " play the bear with " = to damage.
To " pick up his crumbs " = to finish up his work neatly.
To "put his spoon into the wall" = to die.
To " stick up his stick " = to die.
" Up to dick," or "nick," " the door," " the knocker," or " the
nines " = in first-rate condition ; to perfection : comp.
Lat. ad v/nguem. "That nag o' your'n be uj) to did;.
master! 'E were a-prancha' and a-prompin' about.
pretty nigh ready to snuff the moon, if you'd let 'im go."
It is with a pang that some words and phrases have been
omitted which belong to the Evesham neighbourhood, and
which had been adopted into family use between thirty, and
forty years ago.
" Backwarn " is a word of strength and point, and ought to be
in general use, for its meaning is conveyed less tersely and
forcibly by a periphrasis. An old parish clerk would say.
•• They've a-put off that 'ere funeral, and I must be to backwarn
the parson." * " Dwiny " seems to be " a portmanteau word."
and to derive expressive power from its combination of
" dwindled " and " tiny." " I don't say but what 'e might be a
very nice gen'leman, but I niver seed sich a dwiny pair o' legs."
A "swig-swag" garden-path appeared to wind with a stately
sweep, which could never be described by the ordinary and
* "Unspeak" is u«ed in the same sense by Pepys, Richardson,
and others (Davies's "Supplementary English Glossary;" G. Bell
& Sons, 1881).
XXXV111 THE NATION IN THE PARISH.
angular sound of " zig-zag; " and, when a lad was "measured for
a warm suit of clothes," the harsher features of corporal punish-
ment were humorously resolved into an expression of bene-
volence on the one side, and comfort on the other.
In that neighbourhood there was also a remarkable tendency,
which is apparent to a less extent about Upton, to decline the
responsibility of a direct assertion, and to guard against the
possible consequences of making any admission. " Is your wife
at home to-day, James?" " Well,' sir, I shouldn't think but
what 'er might be."
But these reminiscences must not be indulged, lest they
should run on for ever, and this Appendix prove what an old
parishioner at Offenham would have called "a wheel-string
job."
INDEX.
Agincourt, battle of, 17
Anabaptists, 110, 111, 112, 132,
198
Anacaretba de Boteler, 22, 24
Angelica Kauffuian, 124
Anne, Queen, 110, 160, 161, 198
Armada, the, 43
Arthur, Prince, 21
Athelstane, 7, 8
Bannockburn, battle of, 15, 22, 205
Baxter, Benjamin, 72, 83, 88
Richard, 72
Beauchamp, 13, 17, 18, 205, 206,
207, 210
Bellocimpo, De, 9, 11, 203
Birt's Morton, 165
Black Prince, 16, 24
Bonner, Bishop, 141, 142
Boteler, De, 22, 23, 24, 188
Bound, 56, 58, 63, 68, 70, 109
Captain, 1, 51, 54, 65, 94,
181—189, 195, 198
Bourne, Anthony, 36, 37
Sir John, 35, 36
Bracey, Le, 13, 24, 30, 47, 93
Bredon, 76, 177, 199
Bristol Riots, 131
Bromley, 46, 47, 49, 50, 55, 56,
60, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 78,
79, 80, 81, 82, 85, 86, 93,
109, 116, 123, 124, 184
Chancellor, 36
Sir Heury, 37, 38, 39, 40,
41, 40
Mr. Thomas, 79, 91, 93
Bromley of Holt Castle, 69, 85
Bull- baiting, 82, 127
Bushley, 17, 20, 32, 66, 141, Ap. iv.
Caractacus, or Caradoc, 4, 5
Charles I., 47, 51, 69, 154
II., 73, 89
Edward, Prince, 161, 162
Chase, the, 10, 14, 18, 28, 29, 51,
52,94.195,205,207,209,211
the Bishop's, 9, 28
Cholera, the, 167—180
Christian Names, 124, 125
Church, the old, 23, 75, 76, 83, 92,
111, 116, 117, 118
of 1756, 116—120, 132
the new, 135, 136, 137
Clare, De, 14, 15, 16, 18, 22, 204,
205
Clarence, 20, 21, 207, 210
Compton, Sir W., 31, 208, 209
Cromwell, 38, 56, 69, 72, 73, 75,
77, 78, 80, 157
Croome, 13, 37, 126
Croome, Earl's, 49, 66, 94
Hill, 125
Deaths by drowning, 85, 182, 194,
195, 196
Dee, Dr., 32, 138—15")
Despenser, 15, 16, 17, IS, 21, 22,
205, 210
Doddridge, Dr., 113, 114
Domesday Book, 9, 202, 203
Dowdeswell, 65, 85, 91, 94, 110,
Ap. iv.
xl
IXDKX.
EiBtingtoii, 28, 29, 4S
Edward I., 14, 204, 205
II., 13, 14, 16, 23
III., 16
VI., 31, 140, 141
Prince, 19, 20 ■
Elizabeth, Queen, 33, 40, 42, 141.
142, 143, 144, 147, 148, 152, 153
Essex, Earl of, 37, 38, 40, 56, 57,
Eloods, 115, 193, 194, 195
Gatehouse, the, 191
George I., 116, 159, 161
Goom-stool, 167, 191, 192
Houses, 27, 115, 191,
192, 19*
Habingdon, 22, 23, 24, 40, 41, 209
Hall's Charity, 34, 35, 64, 116,
131, 133, 136
Ham Court, 24, 27, 28, 35, 39, 46,
47, 60, 63. 68, C9, 70, 82, 85.
93, 109, 123, 190, 198
Hanley, 9, 17, 18, 29, 30, 31, 31,
45, 56, 57, 66, 67, 74, 83,
110, 131, 202, 203, 204,
205, 206, 207, 208
Castle, 9, 17, 18, 28, 31,
141, 202—211
Hartlebury, 44, 84, 110
Henry II., 203
III., 12
V., 17
VI., 17 18, 19
VII., 21, 30, 207
VIII., 30, 31, 139, 190, 198,
2 OS
Hindlip Hall, 40, 41
Hoke, Le, 15, 30
Holdfast, 13, 30, 47, 190
Holt Castle, 36, 38, 69, 85
Hook, the, 15, 52, 94, 134, 176
Hornyold, 37, 56, 65, 209, 211
Jacobites, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163
James I., Ill, 126, 153, 183, 209
II., 89, 'hi. 158, 159
John, Iviug, 11, 204
Kelly, Edward. 14-. 147. 148, 155
King-maker, the, 18, 22, 52, 207,
210
Leohmere, 34, 56, 57, 66, 79. 81,
si, 203. 211
Leland, 28, 31, 190, 191, Ids, 208,
Ap. iii.
Lloyd. Bishop, 110, HI, 112
Lona-don, 28, 34, 45, 48, 65, 66,
107, 18 4, 190
Lvtfon, 46, 4 7, 49, 50, 55, 68, 82,
Lyttelton, Muriel, 38, 40
Madresneli Court, 47, ^8
Malvern, 8, 30, 37, 43, 51. US.
131, 132, 137, 191,195, 210
Hills, 3, 4, 25, 130, 177
Little, 14, 37, 59
Wells, 29, 211
Martin, 123, 124. 133, 134, 135,
136
Mary, Queen, 32, 49, 141
Massey, Colonel, 59, 63, 73, 74, 77
Maurice, 156, 157, 159, 160, 161,
162, 163. 164. 165, 166
Maurice/ Prince, 58, 60, 61, 62,
63, 64
"Miserrimus." 91. 156—166
Morris, 51, 62. (is. 78, 91,109, 113,
156, 157, 162, 164, 165, 166
Morris's Charity, 78, 117, 157
Nash, 26, 190
Non-jurors, 90, 91, 159, 162
Pershore, 6, 7, 56. 57, 137, 200
Piers Plowman, 25
Potters' Hanley, 9
Powiok, or Powyke, 47, 56, 57, 73
Prattinton, Dr., 117
Queenhill, 50, 91
Recusants, 33, 34
Rhydd Court, 13, 195, 211
Richard I., 9, lo
II.. 16, 38
INDEX.
xli
Richard III., 20, 207,
Ripple, !», 26, 27, 34, 63, 66, 67,
74. 123, 141
Rupert. Prince, .36, 57, 60, 62, 64
Salso Marisco, De, Sautmareis, or
Saltmarshe, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13,22,
20 3
Bancroft, Archbishop, 90, 111, 159
Schools, 113, 129, 130, 133, 134
Severn. 1, 2. 3, 4, 6, 8, 21, 27, 28,
31, 32, 3.3, 58, 66, 69, 74, 76,
88, 122, 12S, 133, 140, 167, 169,
171, 179, 190, 193, 194, 195
Severn Eud, 56, 63, 74
Stvern Stoke, 45, 66, 89, 95, 99,
101, 102, 103, 105, 110, 115, 120,
126, 127, 171
Sbakespe*re, 37, 38
SiddoLs, Mr*., 200
Sidney, Sir P., 37
Silures, 3, 4, 5
Smith, Rev. R., 91, 92, 93, 99, 110,
112, 113, 120, 121
Smith, Dr. Miles, 43, 44, 50
Southampton, Lord, 37
Tax-gatherer's Roll, 13, 182
Tewkesburv, 2, 11, 15, 19, 20, 22,
61, 63, 64, 123, 126, 131, 137,
169, 191, 193, 205, 206, Ap. iv.
Upocessa, 2, 6, 7
Waller, Sir W., 58, 59, 60, 61, 63
Warwick, Earl of, 17. 19, 20, 21,
22, 30, 17. 205, 207,210
Duke of, 18, 206
Welland, 7, 190
Wesley, John, 111, 115
William the Conqueroi, 10, 202, 203
Rufus, 10
III., 156, 158, 159, 160, 161
Woodforde, Rev. W.. 18, 19, 50,
5!, ill, 66, 67, 68, 7(), 71, 83, si,
85, 183, 184
Worcester, 7, 8, 17, 25, 35,- 36, 38,
57, 64, 71, 73, 74. 77.
78, 84, 88, 90, 91, 93,
99, 100, 121, 126, 132,
142, 146, 156, 158, 162,
165, 169, 171, 191, 205
Bishop of, 9, 12, 14, 26,
36, 42, 86, 90, 92, 110,
112. 121, 127, 130, 135,
158, -'I l
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