Mr. Brooke had the reputation of being a great lawyer, and whilst a barrister we find him engaged by the Corporation of Shrewsbury to examine a petition from the town “for the discharge of the subsidies.” According to the entry in the Corporation books (1542) he and Serjeant Molyneux were paid 15s. for their services. He is described as Recorder of London whilst visiting the town, with Roger Townesende, Chief Justice of Wales, and Richard Hasshall, Esqr., “one of the Commissioners of our Lord the King,” and as being presented with “wayffers and torts,” at the expense of the corporation.
With regard to Basil Brooke, we find by an indenture of release, dated the 29th of May, 1706, that he, Basil Brooke, Esq., of Madeley, deceased, by his will bequeathed to the poor of the parish of Madeley the sum of £40, which the churchwardens and parishioners of the parish desired might be laid out in the purchase of lands and tenements for the use of the poor. And it was witnessed that Comerford Brooke, in consideration of the said £40, and also a further sum of £30 paid to him by Audley Bowdler and eight other parties to the said indenture, granted to the said Audley Bowdler and others, their heirs and assigns, three several cottages or tenements, with gardens and yards thereto belonging, situated in Madeley Wood, in the said parish, and in the said indenture, more particularly described, on trust to employ the rents and profits thereof for the use of the poor of the said parish in such manner as the grantees, with the consent of the vicar and parish officers, should think fit.
Near one of the fields adjoining the Court House, called the “Slang,” a man, while clearing a piece of rough ground, which appeared not previously to have been cultivated, a few years ago, came upon a large number of gold coins, chiefly of Queen Elizabeth’s reign, and of the modern value altogether of between three and four hundred pounds.
Looking at what the place now is, and calling to mind what it must have been when the spacious rooms rang with the joyous laugh, and echoed the minstrel songs of bygone days, one is reminded of Southey’s Eclogues, in one of which he seeks to connect the past and present by an old man’s memory, only that in this case more than one generation has gone to rest since the old Court House was complete with park, and moat, and fish-ponds. The old stonebreaker bemoans the change in some old mansion-house thus—
“If my old lady could rise up—
God rest her soul!—’twould grieve her to behold
What wicked work is here.* * * *
Aye, master, fine old trees.
Lord bless us! I have heard my father say
His grandfather could just remember back
When they were planted there. It was my task
To keep them trimmed, and ’twas a pleasure to me;
My poor old lady many a time would come
And tell me where to clip, for she had played
In childhood under them, and ’twas her pride
To keep them in their beauty.* * * * *
I could as soon
Have ploughed my father’s grave as cut them down.
Then those old dark windows—
They’re demolished too;
The very redbreasts that so regular
Came to my lady for her morning crumbs
Won’t know those windows now.
There was a sweet briar, too, that grew beside;
My lady loved at evening to sit there
And knit, and her old dog lay at her feet,
And slept in the sun; ’twas an old favourite dog.
She did not love him less that he was old
And feeble, and he always had a place
By the fireside; and when he died at last,
She made me dig a grave in the garden for him,
For she was good to all: a woeful day
’Twas for the poor when to the grave she went.
—At Christmas, sir!
It would have warmed your heart if you had seen
Her Christmas kitchen—how the blazing fire
Made her fine pewter shine, and holly boughs
So cheerful red; and as for mistletoe,
The finest bush that grew in the country round
Was marked for madam. Then her old ale went
So bountiful about! A Christmas cask,
And ’twas a noble one. God help me, sir,
But I shall never see such days.”
Still greater changes than those described in the lines quoted above are witnessed at the old Court House and in its immediate vicinity,—changes so great that were it possible for one of its former feudal owners to revisit the scene he would fail to recognise the place. Ugly pit-mounds are seen surrounding the building; the place is illumined by the blaze of the blast-furnace, the screech of machinery is heard around it, and the snort of the iron horse sounds across the park, where the hounds were wont to
“Rend the air, and with a lusty cry
Awake the echo, and confound
Their perfect language in a mingled voice.”
The fashions and manners here represented have passed away, and these relics of antiquity look like fossils of old formations, or like dismantled wrecks cast up by the ever-moving current of time. They contrast strangely enough—these trophies of times gone by—with the visible emblems of man’s altered genius around. Modes of life have changed; every age has turned some new page as it passed. Instead of monasteries and moated manor-houses, with country waste and wood, thistled and isolated, whose wild possessors neglected even to till the surface, we have men of active mould, who do daily battle with the stubborn elements of the earth, while flashing fires flicker round their stolid effigies, telling of wealth-producing agencies that make millions happy. Ideas begotten of time, not then dreamt of, have leaped over moat and rampart, re-constituted society, converted parks into pit-mounds, and around the habitations of knighted warriors reared forges and constructed railways.
We are tempted to dwell a little longer here in connection with the Old Court, because considerable interest attaches to features, memorials, and traditions of such places. Viewed from the position we now occupy, a position the culminating result of past efforts and past struggles, they remind us of less favourable phases of society, and picture to the mind ideas, manners, and institutions—the cradle of our present privileges. Manor houses, many of which were destroyed during the Civil War, were held by the Church, and by distinguished personages, lay or clerical, who granted or leased land they did not themselves require. Hence the rise of copyholds—estates held by copy of the roll of the Court of the Manor. Courts were held within these manors and jurisdiction was had of misdemeanours and disputes. On forest borders, on grassy plains, amid fat meadow lands, by rivers, on rocky spurs and projections, these mansions or castelled structures stood, whilst their occupiers, with little industrial or political activity to escape the ennui of their position, were often driven upon the high road of adventure. One can scarcely conceive the privileged owners of such mansions to do otherwise than despise the dependent population—boors, serfs, and villeins, who cultivated their domains. Salient and strongly marked were the two classes—knowledge and power paramount with the one, ignorance and incapacity characterising the other: a proud supremacy and subserviency—claimed and admitted. Priors, bishops, and lay proprietors moved from manor to manor, taking their seats in these feudal courts, receiving homage and inflicting penalties. Woe to the bondsmen of the estate—doomed from the cradle to the grave to slavery—found guilty of an attempt to “steal himself,” as the old Roman law had it, from his lawful owner. Even tenants under these proud holders were subject to great exactions,—the cattle of the manor, boar or bull, by the condition of the tenure being free to roam at night through standing corn or grass: a provision as just as that with which in this the nineteenth century the lord of the manor has power, after purchase, to mine under and throw down the house one has built, in this same manor of Madeley, without one farthing compensation. Sturdy radicals, troublesome fellows, then as now held up at times the glass by means of political squibs to perpetrators of such injustice. One quaint old Shropshire satirist in the 14th century lashes severely the vices of the times. Another in a political song colours his picture deeply. The church at times interfered to mitigate the condition of the people, but the spiritual overseers of the poor, as a rule, thought more of the sports of the field than of their flocks except, indeed, at shearing time. Chaucer in estimating their qualifications was of opinion that “in hunting and riding they were more skilled than in divinity.”
We need not wonder, then, to find in the thirteenth century the Rector of Madeley a sportsman. Henry III, being in Shrewsbury, in Sept. 1267, at which time he concluded a treaty with Llewellyn, and settled sundry little differences with the monks and burgesses respecting a monopoly claimed by the former, of grinding all corn used in the town, and possessing all mills within its limits, granted through Peter de Neville to Richard de Castillon the rector, licence to hunt in the royal forest of Madeley. In such sport the clergy were borne out by their prelates. Of one Walter, bishop of Rochester, it is recorded that he was so fond of the sport that at the age of four score he made hunting his sole employment, to the total neglect of other duties. There were jolly churchmen in those days, for