Alas! that modern enterprise and modern requirements should have demanded the removal of such a bridge as fifty years ago spanned the stream in eight irregular arches. Here we have convenience, but will this condone for the charm of picturesqueness and long association? We cannot but mourn over the loss. From the bridge we look up the river to the weir, mill and water-meadows. On the right, by the yard not far up the stream, stood, in the troublous reign of King Stephen a castle; and from this fortress William de Beauchamp sallied forth, forcibly entered the Abbey, and carried away the goods of the Church. But an abbot in those days was quite equal to meeting a hereditary sheriff on his own ground. Abbot William de Andeville descended on the castle, took it, razed it to the ground, and consecrated the site as a cemetery; no vestige of either castle or cemetery now remains. Old Bengeworth is hardly more than one long street, and there is little now to claim our attention. On the right side of the street, set back behind some iron railings, is a school founded early in the eighteenth century by John Deacle, a man of humble origin and a native of Bengeworth, who, moving to London became a wealthy woollen draper with a shop in Saint Paul's churchyard, and finally an Alderman of the City. In the new church is his tomb with an elaborate effigy in the costume of the period. Passing up the street we should turn before coming to the Talbot Inn and look back: from this point the irregular houses and roofs with the Bell Tower rising beyond make an attractive vignette. The old churchyard can be seen behind the Talbot Inn. The church is gone in favour of the modern and "handsome" structure which we saw before us as we turned out of the main street. Here are only the graves and the base of the old tower. Opposite the remains of the tower is an old stone house, once the manor, where a little chapel can still be seen in an upper room. Except the monument to John Deacle there is nothing in the new church to call forth our interest.
By pursuing our way past the old burial-ground, and taking the turn to the right we find ourselves in Cooper's Lane, associated with a family long connected with the borough. To our left is a pretty cottage, and beyond, seen among the trees but with outhouses abutting on the road, is the Mansion House, still retaining in every feature that old-world sense of remoteness and repose so precious in these days; like a backwater of a rapid river, lying unmoved while the stream of life rushes vociferously by; a veritable "haunt of ancient peace."
The lane leads us into the Cheltenham Road, and we should turn into the public Pleasure Grounds, or, better still, walk a few steps farther along the road, until we have passed them, in order to see the true situation chosen by the monks for their church and dwelling-place.
How dignified does the Bell Tower appear, with the twin spires, rising from the summit of the bank, above the willows which edge the fish ponds! And below in the smooth waters their image is reflected, broken and clear at intervals. All the morning does the sun glorify the scene, and beneath its intense rays the towers gleam white against the blue heavens. Every third hour the bells in Lichfield's tower play an old tune fraught with sweet memories. The horses browse in the meadows or stand beneath the shade of the tall elms. Often a brightly-coloured caravan is to be seen encamped near the ponds, and beside it a fire which sends a faint cloud of blue smoke up against the dark green of the foliage. Out come the children to play on the green slope, to fish in the ponds or gather flowers in the meadow below. An old barge, perhaps, lies under the bank, towed up with much labour from the Severn. Pleasure boats pass now and again, disturbing the water and breaking the reflections into a thousand fragments. Evening comes on; the sun declines, and the face of the tower is dark against the glittering beams; the water receives the glow and reflects the radiance. Tower, spires, trees and landscape assume one sombre hue; clear cut against the sky their forms appear; and, as night falls, the single deep-toned bell rings out the "Curfew" across the silent vale.
Though lying outside the town, and separated from it by the railway, Green Hill is included within the limits of the borough, and forms part of the Evesham parishes. The hill is memorable on account of the well-known battle, described in the next chapter, in which Prince Edward gained the victory over Simon de Montfort, thus concluding the Barons' War. The exact site of the encounter is not known, but tradition points to a spot in the Abbey Manor grounds called Battlewell, on which it is averred de Montfort was slain; and the fight probably extended over a great part of the level plateau on both sides of the present main road.
Unfortunately Battlewell lies in private grounds, but the position may be seen from Clark's Hill. It lies a hundred yards to the left of the road nearly opposite a pretty thatched lodge, but cannot be seen from the highway.
Just beyond is a double cottage dividing the road into two, and on the right is a shady lane. This is Blayney's Lane, and, as already mentioned, it was once the London road; by pursuing it we come to the river meadows and Offenham Ferry. The main road runs straight on, and leads, through the village of Norton, to Alcester, Stratford, Birmingham, &c. The way to the left is the old Worcester road, and skirts the grounds of the Abbey Manor. If we take this lane and descend the hill we may turn sharply to the left near the bottom and return to the town by the "New Road"; or walk on a short distance with Wood Norton—the Duke of Orleans' house—on its wooded slope, in full view, and follow a lane on the left leading to Chadbury Mill.