Great Malvern lies on the easterly slope of the famous Malvern Hills, which run nearly north and south, and form the western barrier of the Severn Valley. Its site provides a pleasant and far-reaching prospect of smiling country, dotted here and there with the towers of Worcester, Gloucester, Tewkesbury and many another town and hamlet. So lofty are these hills that the views from their summits are hardly to be equalled elsewhere in England; indeed, it is reckoned that on a fine day one can look into a dozen counties. The three chief heights have long been known as Worcester Beacon, Hereford Beacon, and Gloucester Beacon, each named after the county in which it stands. Peaceful as is this delightful scene, certain of the memories which it awakens are those of warlike strife, for one can see from this vantage-point six of the great battlefields of England—Edgehill, Worcester, Evesham, Tewkesbury, Shrewsbury, and Mortimer’s Cross. Nor are these the only reminders of warlike deeds, for about the top of two of those great eminences run encircling lines of strong earthworks, known to have existed since the time of the early Britons, if, indeed, they do not antedate them—eloquently silent proof of how long men have realised that this fair land is worth fighting for. Wonderful and inspiring is the view that unfolds itself before the eye of the traveller when he has reached the topmost point of the road and pauses before descending to Great Malvern. No wonder that William Langland selects this site for the slumber which yielded him that marvellous dream which he describes in his “Vision of Piers Plowman” (1362). He says:
“On a May mornege · on Malverne hulles,
I was wery forwandred · and went me to reste
Under a brode banke · bi a bornes side,
And as I lay and lened · and loked in ye wateres
I slombred in a slepyng.”
Tradition tells us that he learned the profession of clerk in Great Malvern Priory, and there composed his splendid poem. His attempt to correct the abuses of his times accords more readily with the work of one contemporary, John Wyclif (who about 1380 gave the people the Bible in English), than it does with the merry “Canterbury Tales,” written in 1387 by that Court favourite Chaucer. We have already encountered that jovial soul during our visit to the early glass of Canterbury. It is significant that in a work which produced such a marked effect upon its time as “Piers Plowman,” frequent testimony is given to show the esteem in which stained glass was then held. Whenever church decoration is mentioned by any of his characters, they almost invariably dwell longer on this feature than upon any other. The Franciscan monk speaks of his church: “With gay glitering glas Glowying as the sunne.” In similar fashion the Dominican brother is made to say: “Wyde wyndowes y-wrought, y-wryten ful thikke, Shynen with shapen sheldes.” A severe rap is given at those who glaze windows in order “Hevene to have,” and vain-glorious souls are urged not “To writen in wyndowes Of youre wel dedes.”
But let us, like Langland, arouse ourselves from the reverie superinduced by this wondrous outlook, and wend our way down the side of the great hill to the Priory Church. Although its more famous windows date from a century later than Langland’s day, it may well be that his eye was gladdened by the older glass in the south aisle of the chancel. It is certainly fine enough to have attracted his notice, and one may safely assume that he loved glass, else his lines would not so frequently refer to it. Before observing the Perpendicular glazing in which this building abounds, let us consider that of the Decorated epoch in the three embrasures that light the southerly wall of the aisle chapel south of the choir, and which were there in Langland’s time. The most westerly of these three is filled with heads and débris, formerly in other parts of the church. We shall have a treat in the two windows adjoining this to the east. Each contains a dozen small scenes from the Old Testament, the four lancets of each window subdividing these scenes into three rows of four each. The backgrounds are diapered red or blue, and a crude border of architecture surrounds each. The drawing is crisp and the colours are strong and good. Note particularly the red in the “Naming of the Fowls”; also observe Noah sending forth the dove, while various sorts of animals crowd about his feet. The rich tones, the crudeness of the canopy work, and sundry other signs unmistakably mark this glazing as Decorated. The corresponding chapel on the north side of the chancel has lost all its ancient glass, except a little in the tracery lights.
The chief beauty of the interior is the delightful east window, whose stout central mullion, two-thirds of the way up, divides and inclines outward to right and left until it touches the frame. A charmingly soft colour scheme is here used, quite in the best manner of the Perpendicular epoch. It is difficult to puzzle out the original order of the figures and canopies, for the window was greatly damaged during the prevalence of the playful custom, many years ago, of permitting the village urchins to throw stones at it! Although the design has been injured, nothing could spoil the colour effect. Viewed from a proper distance the whole presents an appearance of tender grey, mellowed by soft blue, with here and there a note of red. The tracery lights escaped practically unscathed, and each contains a complete figure and canopy. This great central embrasure is flanked on both the north and the south by three large clerestory lights, the glazing of the southerly ones being much less complete than that of their neighbours across the chancel, where the figure and canopy work is excellent, and the combination of tints remarkably good. The side columns of the shrines are broader than is customary, while at the top are an unusual number of pinnacles, as many as fifteen being noted in one case. These little spires are shown to advantage against backgrounds of soft blue and pink. At the top of the north-west window is the martyrdom of St. Woerstan, in the background of which appear the Malvern Hills. The next most important glass occupies the large embrasure at the end of the north transept, which, however, is somewhat reduced from its original proportions by having the lower panels in some of the side lancets walled up. The glass here is not so disarranged as in the east window, and we are able to decipher portraits of Henry VII., his queen, and members of his family. Something out of the ordinary is the large blue corona spread over the central part, serving to tie three of the lancets into one picture. Interesting details occur in the “Adoration of the Magi” (third from the right in lower row). In the west wall at the north-west corner of this transept are single figures in canopy, two rows of three each, one above the other. The great west window is filled with fragments brought from the nave clerestory, and is mostly figures and canopies. Taken as a whole, the glass in this church provides a delightful experience. It is very typical of the lighter tones that came in with the Perpendicular style, but its greatest service is in teaching the lesson that, no matter how much a window’s design may have suffered, it will carry its message of beauty, if only the original colour scheme be sound.
The fine encaustic tiles, not only in the flooring, but also set in the walls, are of local make. Some date from the fourteenth century, and others from the fifteenth, at which latter time Great Malvern enjoyed a wide reputation for their manufacture. Other examples may be seen at Little Malvern and at Tewkesbury.
LITTLE MALVERN
About three miles from the centre of Great Malvern lies the hamlet of Little Malvern, dominated by its priory, now used as a parish church. Of the original building, built by the Benedictines, little now remains but the chancel and a great perpendicular tower, separated from it by an oakwood screen rich with carved vines. The chief attraction, however, is the east window, which, on the whole, is well preserved. Its story can best be told in the words of that ancient writer Nash: “The windows were curiously painted, rivalling those of Great Mal. In the E. wind. of the choir are 6 large compartments: in the middle one is represented Edward IV. in a robe of ermine with an imperial crown on his head; in the next compartment is his queen with a like diadem; in the pane between them is painted his oldest son, afterwards Edward V., his surcoat azure and his robe gules turned down and lined with ermine; and in the next panel is his brother Richard, Duke of York, his surcoat also gules, and his robe azure turned down one row to the feet, on his head a Duke’s coronet.”