Posts Tagged ‘Oswestry’

In Praise of Oswestry! Week 27 of the Oswestry Heritage Comics

Some people, it seems, just can’t say enough good things about Oswestry! During the 1400’s, someone with a particularly long list of good things to say about Oswestry was the Welsh poet, raconteur, drover and soldier, Gruffudd ap Siancyn – known by his pen name “Guto’r Glyn” – “Guto” being short for Gruffudd, and “-r’ Glyn” meaning from Glyn. The “Glyn” in his name might mean either Glyn Ceiriog, in the Ceiriog valley, or Glyndyfrdwy between Corwen and Llangollen. It might also refer to Valle Crucis Abbey.

Unusually, we have a very good physical description of Guto via the mocking of other poets: he was big, strong, with a black beard, a nose “like a billhook”, and balding – “tonsured almost like a monk”. One poet even said Guto alarmingly resembled a big bear. He was known as a joker and wrote humorous and satirical verse, often gently mocking local figures. However, he was best known as a master of “Praise Poetry” – a form of poetry common in the 1400s which was addressed to a noble patron. These were not simply fawningly sycophantic verses – these were nuanced and sophisticated works. Praise Poems adhered to complex rules that governed both content and structure, and served an important social and political function. Guto’s clients included gentry – both men and women, as well as abbots and bishops, local government and military officials between Llangollen and Shrewsbury. Sometimes these poems were clearly part of an ongoing conversation between Guto, the client, and other poets. But Guto’s prowess with words gained him nationally-important clients, too: John Talbot, second Earl of Shrewsbury and even King Edward IV.

But Guto was no Chatterton – no starving aesthete shivering in a garret. Although he was clearly well-educated (possibly at either the abbey of Strata Florida or Valle Crucis) he was not a member of the nobility or the gentry. His father might have been a smith – and, indeed, he may have followed him into that profession as a young man. He worked as a drover, kept flocks of sheep, travelled widely, and was renowned as a horse rider, a sportsman (particularly known for weight-lifting), and an archer. He had a career as a soldier – fighting in France in the Hundred Years War, and then later for the Yorkists during the Wars of the Roses. He was a complex man, too – a Welsh poet working in England; a Yorkist who fought for Richard III and yet praised his killing on the battlefield; a writer of feisty, satirical verse who also penned haunted elegies in his final years.

Poet, archer, weight-lifter, soldier – and Oswestrian! Guto lived for many years in the town, ran several businesses there (as did his wife, Dyddgu), knew many of the top people in town, worked for them – and was one, too: a Burgess. When he wrote his poem “In Praise of Oswestry” in about 1460, Guto was an old man (probably in his sixties), and he freely admitted to giving up the wandering and carousing of his youth in favour of the comforts and security of town living. His description of the town’s delights, fame and wealth is no exaggeration: at that time, Oswestry – an important and significant border town – could indeed be favourably compared to London. His poem also shows a genuine and deeply-rooted affection for the town (and, despite old age, an eye for the ladies!).

Guto’r Glyn ended a long, eventful life as a kind of “poet-in-residence” at Valle Crucis Abbey, thanks to one of his patrons. Here, his last poems look back on life’s experiences from the vantage point of old age:

Woe to the weak man, two lifetimes old, who doesn’t look, – who doesn’t laugh,

Who doesn’t walk further than the furrow’s width…

Could we call this couplet “In Praise of Curiosity?”

Guto’s life, world and poetry is all worth discovering – and fortunately, that’s easy to do: the University of Wales and the Arts and Humanities Council have recently completed – under the directorship of Pr. Ann Parry Owen – a complete online database of Guto’s works, including an excellent biography and fully-annotated texts and English and modern Welsh translations. Thanks to Pr. Owen’s project, the work of Guto’r Glyn – “one of the foremost poets of fifteenth-century Wales” – will be able to reach the larger audience it deserves.

The Oswestry Heritage Comics are a year-long series of weekly newspaper comic strips about the archaeology, history and heritage of the area around Oswestry, Shropshire in the UK. The comics are published in the Oswestry and Border Counties Advertizer every Tuesday, and on Facebook. The project is supported by the Heritage Lottery Fund.

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The Stone in the Garden – Week 24 of the Oswestry Heritage Comics

Heritage is a living thing. Our knowledge of the past – and what it means to us – is constantly evolving. Archaeological excavations, historical research – and even chance discoveries – can bring a new aspect of the past to light, and change the way we relate to it.

Rachel and Mark first got in touch with me via the Hidden Oswestry site, asking whether I could help them identify a piece of carved stone that had turned up in Rachel’s garden on Castle Bank. The photograph they sent showed a fragment of what appeared to be some kind of arch, with a floral motif on one side. As it was a little bit difficult to see some of the details in the photograph, I asked them if they’d mind bringing the fragment to Heritage Open Days so I could have a closer look.

So they did – and everyone got very excited about it when they turned up. Will – at Hidden Oswestry – and I had already talked a bit about a possible date for the stone and where it might have come from – but at our Heritage Open Days stall, we got loads of people curious about the stone and making their own ideas about how old it was and where it might be from originally.

The evidence on the stone itself seems to suggest that the fragment of stone comes from a 19th century ecclesiastical building of some kind – a church of chapel, now demolished. Interestingly, on Beatrice Street – at the bottom of Castle Street – there’s a candidate in the old Wesleyan Chapel: built in the late 1800s and torn down in 1967. Looking at photographs taken during the early 1900s and the 1960s (up on the Oswestry Family and Local History Group site), I can see a couple of possible places where Rachel and Mark’s stone might have come from. It’s possible that the fragment came from the chapel and was used to level the back of Castle Bank during the rebuilding of the Powis Hall Market and laying-out of the Horsemarket carpark.

How do we tell for certain where this stone might have come from? There are a couple of lines of research that we can follow. I’ve asked the Victorian Society for help in identifying the stone; I’ve also asked an online church architecture group if they can suggest any local churches with similar carving – that would help us establish a date for the fragment. Hunting around on the internet, I’ve found what appears to be a similar arrangement of arches and floral carvings on the porch of the Seventh Day Adventist church on London Road in Leicester. A photograph might help us figure out where on a church or chapel Rachel and Mark’s fragment might have originally fit. Don’t suppose anyone out there living in Leicester fancies popping down to London Road and taking a photo of the porch?

I’m planning to revisit this story later in the series. Mark’s already said that, come the spring, he wants to clear more of the rubble at the back of the garden. I’ll be giving him a hand – and there will be another comic to let you all know what we find!

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A Saint’s Name – Week Eleven of the Oswestry Heritage Comics

King – later Saint – Oswald gives his name to Oswestry. “Oswald’s Tree” is a reference to the legend that, following his defeat on the battlefield, the Northumbrian King was beheaded and dismembered, and his head and arm set up in an ancient ash tree. The legend also says that a Raven (or an Eagle) took up his uncorrupted arm and flew off with it, but dropped it in a nearby field – and that the well known as “Oswald’s Well” sprung up from that spot. Over a thousand years later, Oswestry’s connection with Oswald continues in the names of roads, schools, businesses and even pubs.

Oswald of Northumbria seems to have been an exceptional ruler during the Anglo-Saxon period, and it is probably as much for his accomplishments as a King as for his piety or miraculous death that he was so revered. Our main source of information about Oswald is Bede, who clearly regarded Oswald not just as a King, but as a “saintly King”. At the battle of Heavenfield (AD633 or 634), Oswald united the two northern Saxon kingdoms of Bernicia and Deira, reuniting the Kingdom of Northumbria. Bede tells us that as a consequence, Oswald then “brought under his dominion all the nations and provinces of Britain”; a later Christian chronicler, Adomnán or Adamnán of Iona, regarded Oswald not just as King of Northumbria, but “ordained by God as Emperor of all Britain”. Perhaps, following some minor conflicts with other Kings (as hinted at in the Annals of Tigernach) he may have been generally recognised as overlord to a number of minor Saxon chiefdoms. It seems, at the very least, that Oswald’s Kingship of Northumbria also carried with it influence over the kingdoms to the south: he was, for example, Godfather to Cynegils, King of Wessex – and married his daughter, Cyneburga. Oswald’s Christianity – which he adopted before the battle of Heavenfield – was quite possibly prompted by political rather than a purely religious motives: an attempt to gain control over growing Christian influence within Britain. Oswald certainly used Christianity to help strengthen the unification of Northumbria, inviting the Bishop Aidan to come from Ireland to help convert the Northumbrian peoples, and giving him the island of Lindisfarne as his see.

Oswald’s fateful battle at Oswestry was against the pagan King Penda. The battle may well have been precipitated by traditional Saxon intrigues over Mercian and Northumbrian succession (Penda’s brother Eowa may have fought alongside Oswald), English-Welsh cross-border rivalries (Oswestry may well have lain in Wales at that point), and even religion: Bede’s emphasis on Oswald as a “saintly King” may be partly to distinguish him from heathen, pagan Penda. Oswald was succeeded by his brother Oswiu, who struggled to keep Northumbria together. He eventually defeated and killed King Penda at the Battle of the Winwaed (AD654 or 655) becoming the most powerful Saxon King in all of Britain.

Oswald’s body was recovered by Oswiu, and then taken by his daughter Osthryth to Bardney Abbey. The monks there only agreed to the burial when a pillar of light enveloped the cart in which Oswald’s bones were being carried. A century later, when Barney Abbey was threatened by the Vikings, Æthelflæd, daughter of Alfred the Great brought the body of the saint to Gloucester Cathedral, and his head to Durham Cathedral, where they are still today.

Oswestry should be proud of its connection with this great British king. Although very much a man of his time, King Oswald was one of the first of the Saxon kings to look beyond his own, tiny dominion and imagine a country of diverse peoples, cultures and beliefs unified under one ruler.

And as a final note, has anyone seen a 2016 film called Whiteblade, apparently based on the life of Oswald?

The Oswestry Heritage Comics are a year-long series of weekly newspaper comic strips about the archaeology, history and heritage of area around Oswestry, Shropshire in the UK. The comics are published in the Oswestry and Border Counties Adverizer every Tuesday, and on Facebook. The project is supported by the Heritage Lottery Fund.

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The Great Escape! – Week Ten of the Oswestry Heritage Comics.

Before the Napoleonic Wars, military prisoners – particularly officers – were held only temporarily, and often ransomed for significant amounts of money and allowed to return back home, where they would often re-enter their old regiments. But this changed during the wars against Napoleon. Between 1803 and 1815, over 100,000 French prisoners of war were held in Britain. And, as historian Gavin Daley points out, they were held not temporarily, but for the entire remaining duration of the war. This was a significant change in the way military prisoners were treated, and was a direct result of anxieties in Europe’s constitutional monarchies (Britain included) about the nature of their revolutionary, imperial enemy. This change in approach to military imprisonment meant a change in the nature of military incarceration. Prison hulks – decommissioned ships used as floating gaols – were first used for similarly revolutionary prisoners during the American War of Independence.

Parliament authorised their use during the Napoleonic Wars “for the more severe and effectual punishment of atrocious and daring offenders”. Conditions inside the hulks were appalling, and the prospect of imprisonment in them much feared by the French. Before the Battle of Waterloo, Napoleon was said to have raised the spectre of these prison ships before his troops, saying: “Soldiers, let those among you who have been prisoners of the English describe to you the hulks, and detail the most frightful miseries which they endured!” But, as the historian Carolyn Hughes has observed, both the French and the British imposed military imprisonment for the duration of the war. In doing so, the policy created – on both sides of the English Channel – what Hughes describes as “a new kind of prisoner of war—the prisoner of war as renegade captive, desperate to be free.”

All this sets the scene for this week’s Oswestry Heritage Comic. It tells the story of General Armand Philippon, former Napoleonic governor of Badajoz, in Spain – captured by British troops after the city fell in April, 1812 (an event written about by both historians and novelists). Philippon was sent first to Lisbon, and then paroled with other French officers to Oswestry – far away from the battlefields of Europe. Most officers sent to Britain honoured their parole, and remained prisoners until the final defeat of Napoleon and the restoration of the French monarchy in 1815. But Philippon had other ideas. Philippon had risen through the ranks, from private in 1778 when he first joined up – to Major General (General de Division), Baron and Governor of Badajoz by 1811. He was a professional soldier, and a professional Napoleonist: he would not be content to sit out the remainder of the war in remote, sleepy little Oswestry!

And so, in July of 1812, he and a fellow officer (named Garnier – possibly a Colonel), bribed a local miller (quite probably part of a smuggling ring) and made their way to the Channel and crossed on a blockade runner back to France. Philippon rejoined Napoleon’s Grand Armee in August. A year later he was commanding troops in Germany, fighting with distinction at the Battle of Kulm. He was eventually captured again at Dresden, and imprisoned (successfully, this time) for the remainder of the war. He was made a Knight of Saint Louis, and honoured as a hero of the French nation – his name inscribed on the western pillar of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris.

While it’s strange enough to imagine Oswestry filled with Napoleonic prisoners of war, it’s possibly even stranger to imagine one of them successfully escaping back to France. If, on a summer’s afternoon in 1812, you or I were walking through the Bailey market, we might one have seen a dark-haired frenchman with the noticeable scar over his left eyebrow, sitting by himself outside one of the pubs, lost in his own thoughts. Would we have guessed that this distinguished French officer wasn’t just idly daydreaming, but was, in fact, secretly plotting his return to Napoleon’s army? War has a habit of connecting home and hearth with far-off places, and making episodes of world history part of local heritage. And it’s through the war stories of individuals – like Armand Philippon – that the stories of places like Badajoz, Paris, Dresden and Oswestry are all linked together.

The Oswestry Heritage Comics are a year-long series of weekly newspaper comic strips about the archaeology, history and heritage of area around Oswestry, Shropshire in the UK. The comics are published in the Oswestry and Border Counties Adverizer every Tuesday, and on Facebook. The project is supported by the Heritage Lottery Fund.

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Week Six: Oswestry’s Missing Hospital

Many of the jobs we do today were being done hundreds of years ago, but in different ways and in different places. Hospitals in the middle ages were usually connected to churches or abbeys, run by monks, nuns or priests. It was often considered very prestigious to have a hospital in a mediaeval town. Historical records that us Oswestry’s hospital was founded by the Archbishop of St. Asaph, and generously endowed. There was a priest in charge of the daily running of the hospital, including conducting services and providing accommodation for visiting priests from Haughmond Abbey, near Shrewsbury. William FitzAlan (who featured in a previous comic), gave the hospital permission to use a field near Cynynion (along the racecourse road towards Rhydycroesau), and instructed that the burgesses of Oswestry give “a handful of corn, flour, and salt from every horseload sold in the market, a gallon of ale from every brewing, and a loaf from every baking” to the hospital. Just like today, communities would help support their local hospital.

After Archbishop Renier’s death, the supervision of the hospital passed to the Knights of St. John, also known as the Knights Hospitaller or Hospitallers. This was an order of knights founded during the crusades to help sick, injured and poor pilgrims in Jerusalem. They maintained a famous hospital in Jerusalem itself, and often ran hospitals elsewhere in Europe. They were an important knightly order until the late 1600s – they even founded colonies in North America and the Caribbean. Because of the association with the Hospitallers – whose patron saint was St. John the Baptist – the hospital is often referred to as St. John’s Hospital.

But where is Oswestry’s hospital now? Historians have debated the actual location, but most agree that it was somewhere just south of Oswestry’s old mediaeval town wall (which used to be about where Gilhams and Booka are), either near the Church, or a bit further out towards Roft Street and Black Gate. Finding it archaeologically might be a bit difficult, since most open areas around there are paved. But some geophys in back gardens might be a way to start. Anyone fancy doing an Oswestry “Time Team”?

The Oswestry Heritage Comics are a year-long series of weekly newspaper comic strips about the archaeology, history and heritage of area around Oswestry, Shropshire in the UK. The comics are published in the Oswestry and Border Counties Adverizer every Tuesday, and on Facebook. The project is supported by the Heritage Lottery Fund.

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Week Four: What’s in a Name?

Not much of Norman Oswestry survives as bricks and mortar – but you can still find traces of it in unexpected places around the town. The FitzAlans were Oswestry’s “First Family” – generations of ambitious, clever survivors, determined at first to make the most of their post-Conquest manorial holdings; determined as the decades passed to hang on to that power. Even choosing the wrong side during the Anarchy of the twelfth century, and backing the Empress Matilda over her rival Stephen, didn’t dent their ambition.

Like all powerful families, however, their power did eventually fade – lack of male rivals ended the Fitzalan line in favour of the Howard, and more profitable estates elsewhere removed the family from Oswestry to Shrawardine, Holt, Clun and (eventually) Arundel – much to the benefit of the town. As local Oswestry historian, John Pryce-Jones puts it: “… reduced levels of manorial supervision provided the leading citizens of Oswestry to extend their own influence over the running of the town, and to develop the independent spirit which has characterised local civic affairs down the centuries…”. In other words, although they built the original Oswestry Castle, and gave it it’s original charters, perhaps the best things the FitzAlans ever did for Oswestry was leave it alone!

However, the FitzAlan name survives in the name of FitzAlan Road – a tiny reminder of the determined, canny (and quite possibly, ruthless) family that gave Oswestry its head start. There are lots of roads in Oswestry with historical stories behind them – you could do a whole series of heritage comics just on road names!

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Oswestry Heritage Comics - week 3

Oswestry Heritage Comics – week 3. Click on image for larger view.

Oswestry’s position on the border between England and Wales has always been an important factor in its history. For a thousand years, the border has shifted around the town – sometimes peacefully, sometimes violently. Oswestry has been both in Wales and in England – and is sometimes referred to as “the Welsh town in England“. Oswestry’s town walls, Oswestry’s Norman castle, Offa’s Dyke, Wat’s Dyke – even Old Oswestry hillfort – are all evidence of the uncertainty that living along a border can bring. But there are advantages too. Living in the middle of anything can bring opportunities as well as uncertainties – and Oswestry the town in large part owes its origins to the markets which it hosted and fostered; markets which took full advantage of its position between upland communities in Wales and lowland communities in England. These markets drove Oswestry’s peacetime prosperity and secured its reputation as a place “between” England and Wales.

We can still see evidence of that today. We have Powis Hall Market and the Bailey market, of course – itself located in the area protected by the extended wooden wall that surrounded the original Norman castle. The livestock markets, too, are reminders that Oswestry has always functioned as a meeting place for upland and lowland communities. But Oswestry’s new markets and festivals continue to do a similar job: the Literary Festival, Oswestry’s festival of Food and Drink, the Continental markets, the late-night shopping and street markets at Christmas, the Borderlands Visual Art Open Studios festival, plus Apple Day, the Heritage Market, the Antiques Market and many, many more occasional and one-off market events. These modern festivals and markets bring different peoples together, and demonstrate how Oswestry’s heritage as a place “between” continues to drive the town’s economic life.

In trying to decide which themes to focus my comics on, Oswestry’s identity as a borderlands town – and ideas of “boundaries” and “crossing boundaries” – was an obvious topic to include. This is a major aspect of Oswestry’s heritage and history, and – as evidenced by our markets and festivals – continues to shape the town’s identity even today.

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