The Hermitage.
On ascending the very steep hill, which leads out of the town towards Wolverhampton, every one has observed, on the right hand side of the road, a cave hollowed out of the sand-stone rock, which on examination is found more extensive than might at first be supposed. This, there is reason to believe, was in old time the solitary dwelling place of one of the Saxon Princes, a brother of King Athelstan; and hither it is believed he had fled, both that he might enjoy religious solitude, and also screen himself from the violence and treachery to which his Brother Edwin had fallen a prey. Documents are extant, which shew that there was a Hermitage here in the reign of Edward III., under the patronage of the Crown, and that it bore the name of Athelardestan—a Saxon word, which signifies “the rock” or “stone of Ethelward.”[26] Thus documentary testimony supports the ancient tradition, that this cave, amidst the seclusion of Morfe Forest, was the cell of a royal anchorite—one who turned his back on the intrigues and fascinations of a court, and sought in this deep retirement a course of life more congenial to his feelings. No doubt it was a mistaken sense of duty, which made such men bury themselves in these dark solitudes; for it is far nobler to encounter the world, and to overcome it, than to retire from the conflict—better amidst its corruptions and cares, its trials and temptations, to keep ourselves unspotted by it, than to seek an escape from its evils by deserting the sphere of our appointed duties. It is difficult for us, perhaps, to realize the position of serious and peaceful minds in times of lawlessness and violence, yet at all times the best exercise of self denial and mortification[27] is to be found in the common path of daily life—in intercourse with our fellow men—not in seclusion from them; and that must be a mistaken piety, which seeks to please God by forsaking the responsibilities of our station, and cutting ourselves off from the sympathies and charities of life; still we must not scorn such piety, even though we detect its errors, and lament its weakness; but willingly cherish the hope, that its mistakes and deficiencies were pardoned by Him who is not extreme to mark what is done amiss, and that many an occupant of a solitary hermitage, like this of Ethelward, in the secret preference of his heart, chose the good part which shall not be taken from him.
Hospital of Saint John.
We now come to consider the Ecclesiastical Establishments before referred to, and first that which is usually called the Hospital of Saint John, though it was also dedicated to the Holy Trinity and the Virgin Mary. It was founded by Ralph de Strange, Lord of Alveley, in the reign of Richard I. Such hospitals, though they became after a while a refuge for the poor and destitute generally, yet were originally designed for the entertainment of travellers, and especially of pilgrims, and therefore were built by the way side, that so they might be as accessible as possible, and that the tired traveller might not have far to go for rest and refreshment.[28] Saint John’s hospital was well situated for this purpose. Standing within the angle formed by Mill Street and Saint John’s Street, it commanded every highway by which travellers entered the town from places lying eastward of the Severn. The roads from Quatford and Claverley, and Worfield, and Shiffnal, all converging to a point on that side of the Bridge, passed close to its gate; and no doubt many a wayfaring man, wearied with threading his way through the mazes of Morfe Forest was glad, when he had descended the hill, to rest under its friendly roof.
The earliest royal recognition of this Hospital bears date March 9th, 1223. It is a mandate of Henry III., by which he directs Hugh Fitz Robert, Forester of Shropshire, to give the Brethren of the Hospital of St. John twelve cart loads of dry wood in Morf Forest. There is another, about two years later, by which King Henry III., being then at Bridgnorth, commands the same Hugh Fitz Robert to allow the Master and Brethren of the Hospital of the Holy Trinity of Bruges to have three oak trees in Morf Forest for their fire, of the King’s gift. There is also a record of a trial, which took place at the Assizes in Shrewsbury, in the close of the same century, between the Crown and the Prior of this Hospital, respecting some land in the parish of Alveley, claimed by the Prior as part of the endowment of the establishment by Ralph Le Strange. The claim was disputed by the King’s Attorney, who set forth the royal title as by descent from Henry II. The Jurors however found upon their oath, that “the Master had greater right to hold the land as he held it, than the King to have it as he claimed it.” The members of this Religious House were a Prior, or Master, and several Lay Brethren; and the Mastership of it was in the reign of Edward IV. annexed to the Abbey of Lilleshall.[29]
The Hospital of Saint James.
This was an establishment of a very different kind. It was designed only as a place of refuge for persons afflicted with severe or contagious diseases, and was termed in legal documents Domus Leprosorum Jacobi, or as Maladria Sancti Jacobi.[30] It stood outside the town, east of the road which led from Saint John’s Hospital to Quatford. Its founders were, probably, the community of the Borough of Bridgnorth, and such an establishment may be considered as one of the sanitary measures which they adopted for the benefit of the town. Many of the large towns in England had establishments of this nature in the thirteenth century; and there is evidence to prove, that the Leper House of Saint James, in Bridgnorth, was founded previously to 1224; for on the 22nd of September of that year, Henry III., who was then at Bridgnorth Castle, issued the following mandate to Hugh Fitz Robert, “Know that for the reverence of God, and for the health of our soul, and the soul of the Lord King John our Father, we have granted to the Leprous Brethren of the Hospital of Saint James, at Bruges, that they may have one horse, daily plying in our Forest of Morf, to collect dry stumps and dead wood for their fires, until we come of age.” There is also a very early charter of the thirteenth century, now in the possession of T. C. Whitmore, Esq., of Apley, bearing the Seal of the Hospital of Saint James, by which it would appear that this society was constituted without any superior of its own body, and that it acted under the guidance, and with the consent of the good men of the town, and that its members were of both sexes. (Antiquities of Shropshire, Vol. 1, p. 349.)
These two establishments, the Hospital of Saint John and that of Saint James, the one for the relief of the indigent, and the refreshment of travellers, the other for the relief of diseased persons, were swept away by the Act for the dissolution of Monasteries and Religious Houses, which passed in the reign of Henry VIII. What now answers to these two in our town, are the Union Poor House and the Infirmary. I am not about to institute a comparison between the modern institutions, and those of olden times; and I most willingly bear testimony, that the indigent and invalids, who are admitted into the Poor House and Infirmary of Bridgnorth, receive the kindest and tenderest treatment; at the same time we ought to be aware, that the ancient Religious Houses of this Country, two of which were connected with our Borough, afforded to the sick and needy substantial relief, and that, whatever defects might belong to the system on which they were carried on, they were for a time of essential service. Abuses did creep into them no doubt—abuses of so flagrant a character, as called loudly for reform—nevertheless, they afforded a shelter for houseless poverty, a retreat for old age, and a refuge for disease, not to be found elsewhere; and when a rapacious and mercenary law[31] decreed their dissolution, confiscated their property, uprooted their establishments, and swept them from the land, it left the poor unbefriended, and subjected them to the severest sufferings, by casting them for relief on the precarious supply that private charity afforded. The late Professor Blunt, of Cambridge, in his valuable work on the Reformation, gives the following description of the ancient Religious Houses, which is as true as it is graphic. “They had been the Almshouses, where the aged dependants of more opulent families, the decrepit servant, the decayed artificer, retired as to a home, neither uncomfortable nor humiliating. They had been the County Dispensaries, a knowledge of medicines, and of the virtues of herbs, being a part of Monkish learning. They had been foundling asylums, relieving the state of many orphan and outcast children, and ministering to their necessities, God’s ravens in the wilderness, bread and flesh in the morning, and bread and flesh in the evening. They had been Inns to the wayfaring man, who heard from afar the sound of the vesper bell, at once inviting him to repose and devotion, and who might sing his matins with the morning star, and go on his way rejoicing.” ([p. 141.])