IN STREETS AND LANES
I have said in another place that no country in the world can boast of
possessing rural homes and villages which have half the charm and
picturesqueness of our English cottages and hamlets.[10] They have to
be known in order that they may be loved. The hasty visitor may pass
them by and miss half their attractiveness. They have to be wooed in
varying moods in order that they may display their charms--when the
blossoms are bright in the village orchards, when the sun shines on
the streams and pools and gleams on the glories of old thatch, when
autumn has tinged the trees with golden tints, or when the hoar frost
makes their bare branches beautiful again with new and glistening
foliage. Not even in their summer garb do they look more beautiful.
There is a sense of stability and a wondrous variety caused by the
different nature of the materials used, the peculiar stone indigenous
in various districts and the individuality stamped upon them by
traditional modes of building.
[10] _The Charm of the English Village_ (Batsford).
We have still a large number of examples of the humbler kind of
ancient domestic architecture, but every year sees the destruction of
several of these old buildings, which a little care and judicious
restoration might have saved. Ruskin's words should be writ in bold,
big letters at the head of the by-laws of every district council.
"Watch an old building with anxious care; guard it as best you
may, and at any cost, from any influence of dilapidation. Count
its stones as you would the jewels of a crown. Set watchers about
it, as if at the gate of a besieged city; bind it together with
iron when it loosens; stay it with timber when it declines. Do not
care about the unsightliness of the aid--better a crutch than a
lost limb; and do this tenderly and reverently and continually,
and many a generation will still be born and pass away beneath its
shadow."
[Illustration: Relic of Lynn Siege in Hampton Court, King's Lynn]
[Illustration: Hampton Court, King's Lynn, Norfolk]
If this sound advice had been universally taken many a beautiful old
cottage would have been spared to us, and our eyes would not be
offended by the wondrous creations of the estate agents and local
builders, who have no other ambition but to build cheaply. The
contrast between the new and the old is indeed deplorable. The old
cottage is a thing of beauty. Its odd, irregular form and various
harmonious colouring, the effects of weather, time, and accident,
environed with smiling verdure and sweet old-fashioned garden flowers,
its thatched roof, high gabled front, inviting porch overgrown with
creepers, and casement windows, all combine to form a fair and
beautiful home. And then look at the modern cottage with its glaring
brick walls, slate roof, ungainly stunted chimney, and note the
difference. Usually these modern cottages are built in a row, each one
exactly like its fellow, with door and window frames exactly alike,
brought over ready-made from Norway or Sweden. The walls are thin, and
the winds of winter blow through them piteously, and if a man and his
wife should unfortunately "have words" (the pleasing country euphemism
for a violent quarrel) all their neighbours can hear them. The scenery
is utterly spoilt by these ugly eyesores. Villas at Hindhead seem to
have broken out upon the once majestic hill like a red skin eruption.
The jerry-built villa is invading our heaths and pine-woods; every
street in our towns is undergoing improvement; we are covering whole
counties with houses. In Lancashire no sooner does one village end its
mean streets than another begins. London is ever enlarging itself,
extending its great maw over all the country round. The Rev. Canon
Erskine Clarke, Vicar of Battersea, when he first came to reside near
Clapham Junction, remembers the green fields and quiet lanes with
trees on each side that are now built over. The street leading from
the station lined with shops forty years ago had hedges and trees on
each side. There were great houses situated in beautiful gardens and
parks wherein resided some of the great City merchants, county
families, the leaders in old days of the influential "Clapham sect."
These gardens and parks have been covered with streets and rows of
cottages and villas; some of the great houses have been pulled down
and others turned into schools or hospitals, valued only at the rent
of the land on which they stand. All this is inevitable. You cannot
stop all this any more than Mrs. Partington could stem the Atlantic
tide with a housemaid's mop. But ere the flood has quite swallowed up
all that remains of England's natural and architectural beauties, it
may be useful to glance at some of the buildings that remain in town
and country ere they have quite vanished.
[Illustration: Mill Street, Warwick]
Beneath the shade of the lordly castle of Warwick, which has played
such an important part in the history of England, the town of Warwick
sprang into existence, seeking protection in lawless times from its
strong walls and powerful garrison. Through its streets often rode
in state the proud rulers of the castle with their men-at-arms--the
Beauchamps, the Nevilles, including the great "King-maker," Richard
Neville, the Dudleys, and the Grevilles. They contributed to the
building of their noble castle, protected the town, and were borne to
their last resting-place in the fine church, where their tombs remain.
The town has many relics of its lords, and possesses many
half-timbered graceful houses. Mill Street is one of the most
picturesque groups of old-time dwellings, a picture that lingers in
our minds long after we have left the town and fortress of the grim
old Earls of Warwick.
Oxford is a unique city. There is no place like it in the world.
Scholars of Cambridge, of course, will tell me that I am wrong, and
that the town on the Cam is a far superior place, and then point
triumphantly to "the backs." Yes, they are very beautiful, but as a
loyal son of Oxford I may be allowed to prefer that stately city with
its towers and spires, its wealth of college buildings, its exquisite
architecture unrivalled in the world. Nor is the new unworthy of the
old. The buildings at Magdalen, at Brazenose, and even the New Schools
harmonize not unseemly with the ancient structures. Happily Keble is
far removed from the heart of the city, so that that somewhat
unsatisfactory, unsuccessful pile of brickwork interferes not with its
joy. In the streets and lanes of modern Oxford we can search for and
discover many types of old-fashioned, humble specimens of domestic
art, and we give as an illustration some houses which date back to
Tudor times, but have, alas! been recently demolished.
[Illustration: Tudor Tenements, New Inn Hall St, Oxford. Now
demolished]
Many conjectures have been made as to the reason why our forefathers
preferred to rear their houses with the upper storeys projecting out
into the streets. We can understand that in towns where space was
limited it would be an advantage to increase the size of the upper
rooms, if one did not object to the lack of air in the narrow street
and the absence of sunlight. But we find these same projecting storeys
in the depth of the country, where there could have been no
restriction as to the ground to be occupied by the house. Possibly the
fashion was first established of necessity in towns, and the
traditional mode of building was continued in the country. Some say
that by this means our ancestors tried to protect the lower part of
the house, the foundations, from the influence of the weather; others
with some ingenuity suggest that these projecting storeys were
intended to form a covered walk for passengers in the streets, and to
protect them from the showers of slops which the careless housewife of
Elizabethan times cast recklessly from the upstairs windows.
Architects tell us that it was purely a matter of construction. Our
forefathers used to place four strong corner-posts, framed from the
trunks of oak trees, firmly sunk into the ground with their roots left
on and placed upward, the roots curving outwards so as to form
supports for the upper storeys. These curved parts, and often the
posts also, were often elaborately carved and ornamented, as in the
example which our artist gives us of a corner-post of a house in
Ipswich.
In _The Charm of the English Village_ I have tried to describe the
methods of the construction of these timber-framed houses,[11] and it
is perhaps unnecessary for me to repeat what is there recorded. In
fact, there were three types of these dwelling-places, to which have
been given the names Post and Pan, Transom Framed, and Intertie Work.
In judging of the age of a house it will be remembered that the nearer
together the upright posts are placed the older the house is. The
builders as time went on obtained greater confidence, set their posts
wider apart, and held them together by transoms.
[11] _The Charm of the English Village_, pp. 50-7.
[Illustration: Gothic Corner-post. The Half Moon Inn, Ipswich]
Surrey is a county of good cottages and farm-houses, and these have
had their chroniclers in Miss Gertrude Jekyll's delightful _Old West
Surrey_ and in the more technical work of Mr. Ralph Nevill, F.S.A. The
numerous works on cottage and farm-house building published by Mr.
Batsford illustrate the variety of styles that prevailed in different
counties, and which are mainly attributable to the variety in the
local materials in the counties. Thus in the Cotswolds,
Northamptonshire, Derbyshire, Yorkshire, Westmorland, Somersetshire,
and elsewhere there is good building-stone; and there we find charming
examples of stone-built cottages and farm-houses, altogether
satisfying. In several counties where there is little stone and large
forests of timber we find the timber-framed dwelling flourishing in
all its native beauty. In Surrey there are several materials for
building, hence there is a charming diversity of domiciles. Even the
same building sometimes shows walls of stone and brick, half-timber
and plaster, half-timber and tile-hanging, half-timber with panels
filled with red brick, and roofs of thatch or tiles, or stone slates
which the Horsham quarries supplied.
[Illustration: Timber-built House, Shrewsbury]
[Illustration]
These Surrey cottages have changed with age. Originally they were
built with timber frames, the panels being filled in with wattle and
daub, but the storms of many winters have had their effect upon the
structure. Rain drove through the walls, especially when the ends of
the wattle rotted a little, and draughts were strong enough to blow
out the rushlights and to make the house very uncomfortable. Oak
timbers often shrink. Hence the joints came apart, and being exposed
to the weather became decayed. In consequence of this the buildings
settled, and new methods had to be devised to make them weather-proof.
The villages therefore adopted two or three means in order to attain
this end. They plastered the whole surface of the walls on the
outside, or they hung them with deal boarding or covered them with
tiles. In Surrey tile-hung houses are more common than in any other
part of the country. This use of weather-tiles is not very ancient,
probably not earlier than 1750, and much of this work was done in that
century or early in the nineteenth. Many of these tile-hung houses are
the old sixteenth-century timber-framed structures in a new shell.
Weather-tiles are generally flatter and thinner than those used for
roofing, and when bedded in mortar make a thoroughly weather-proof
wall. Sometimes they are nailed to boarding, but the former plan makes
the work more durable, though the courses are not so regular. These
tiles have various shapes, of which the commonest is semicircular,
resembling a fish-scale. The same form with a small square shoulder is
very generally used, but there is a great variety, and sometimes those
with ornamental ends are blended with plain ones. Age imparts a very
beautiful colour to old tiles, and when covered with lichen they
assume a charming appearance which artists love to depict.
The mortar used in these old buildings is very strong and good. In
order to strengthen the mortar used in Sussex and Surrey houses and
elsewhere, the process of "galleting" or "garreting" was adopted. The
brick-layers used to decorate the rather wide and uneven mortar joint
with small pieces of black ironstone stuck into the mortar. Sussex was
once famous for its ironwork, and ironstone is found in plenty near
the surface of the ground in this district. "Galleting" dates back to
Jacobean times, and is not to be found in sixteenth-century work.
Sussex houses are usually whitewashed and have thatched roofs, except
when Horsham slates or tiles are used. Thatch as a roofing material
will soon have altogether vanished with other features of vanishing
England. District councils in their by-laws usually insert regulations
prohibiting thatch to be used for roofing. This is one of the
mysteries of the legislation of district councils. Rules, suitable
enough for towns, are applied to the country villages, where they are
altogether unsuitable or unnecessary. The danger of fire makes it
inadvisable to have thatched roofs in towns, or even in some villages
where the houses are close together, but that does not apply to
isolated cottages in the country. The district councils do not compel
the removal of thatch, but prohibit new cottages from being roofed
with that material. There is, however, another cause for the
disappearance of thatched roofs, which form such a beautiful feature
in the English landscape. Since mowing-machines came into general use
in the harvest fields the straw is so bruised that it is not fit for
thatching, at least it is not so suitable as the straw which was cut
by the hand. Thatching, too, is almost a lost art in the country.
Indeed ricks have to be covered with thatch, but "the work for this
temporary purpose cannot compare with that of the old roof-thatcher,
with his 'strood' or 'frail' to hold the loose straw, and his
spars--split hazel rods pointed at each end--that with a dexterous
twist in the middle make neat pegs for the fastening of the straw rope
that he cleverly twists with a simple implement called a 'wimble.' The
lowest course was finished with an ornamental bordering of rods with a
diagonal criss-cross pattern between, all neatly pegged and held down
by the spars."[12]
[12] _Old West Surrey_, by Gertrude Jekyll, p. 206.
[Illustration: Missbrook Farm. Capel, Surrey.]
Horsham stone makes splendid roofing material. This stone easily
flakes into plates like thick slates, and forms large grey flat slabs
on which "the weather works like a great artist in harmonies of moss
lichen and stain. No roofing so combines dignity and homeliness, and
no roofing, except possibly thatch (which, however, is short-lived),
so surely passes into the landscape."[13] It is to be regretted that
this stone is no longer used for roofing--another feature of vanishing
England. The stone is somewhat thick and heavy, and modern rafters are
not adapted to bear their weight. If you want to have a roof of
Horsham stone, you can only accomplish your purpose by pulling down an
old cottage and carrying off the slabs. Perhaps the small Cotswold
stone slabs are even more beautiful. Old Lancashire and Yorkshire
cottages have heavy stone roofs which somewhat resemble those
fashioned with Horsham slabs.
[13] _Highways and Byways in Sussex_, by E.V. Lucas.
The builders and masons of our country cottages were cunning men, and
adapted their designs to their materials. You will have noticed that
the pitch of the Horsham-slated roof is unusually flat. They observed
that when the sides of the roof were deeply sloping, as in the case of
thatched roofs, the heavy stone slates strained and dragged at the
pegs and laths and fell and injured the roof. Hence they determined
to make the slope less steep. Unfortunately the rain did not then
easily run off, and in order to prevent the water penetrating into the
house they were obliged to adopt additional precautions. Therefore
they cemented their roofs and stopped them with mortar.
[Illustration: Cottage at Capel, Surrey ]
Very lovely are these South Country cottages, peaceful, picturesque,
pleasant, with their graceful gables and jutting eaves, altogether
delightful. Well sang a loyal Sussex poet:--
If I ever become a rich man,
Or if ever I grow to be old,
I will build a house with deep thatch[14]
To shelter me from the cold;
And there shall the Sussex songs be sung
And the story of Sussex told.
[14] I fear the poet's plans will never be passed by the rural
district council.
We give some good examples of Surrey cottages at the village of Capel
in the neighbourhood of Dorking, a charming region for the study of
cottage-building. There you can see some charming ingle-nooks in the
interior of the dwellings, and some grand farm-houses. Attached to the
ingle-nook is the oven, wherein bread is baked in the old-fashioned
way, and the chimneys are large and carried up above the floor of the
first storey, so as to form space for curing bacon.
[Illustration: Farm-house, Horsmonden, Kent]
Horsmonden, Kent, near Lamberhurst, is beautifully situated among
well-wooded scenery, and the farm-house shown in the illustration is a
good example of the pleasant dwellings to be found therein.
East Anglia has no good building-stone, and brick and flint are the
principal materials used in that region. The houses built of the
dark, dull, thin old bricks, not of the great staring modern
varieties, are very charming, especially when they are seen against a
background of wooded hills. We give an illustration of some cottages
at Stow Langtoft, Suffolk.
[Illustration: Seventeenth-century Cottages, Stow Langtoft, Suffolk]
The old town of Banbury, celebrated for its cakes, its Cross, and its
fine lady who rode on a white horse accompanied by the sound of bells,
has some excellent "black and white" houses with pointed gables and
enriched barge-boards pierced in every variety of patterns, their
finials and pendants, and pargeted fronts, which give an air of
picturesqueness contrasting strangely with the stiffness of the
modern brick buildings. In one of these is established the old Banbury
Cake Shop. In the High Street there is a very perfect example of these
Elizabethan houses, erected about the year 1600. It has a fine oak
staircase, the newels beautifully carved and enriched with pierced
finials and pendants. The market-place has two good specimens of the
same date, one of which is probably the front of the Unicorn Inn, and
had a fine pair of wooden gates bearing the date 1684, but I am not
sure whether they are still there. The Reindeer Inn is one of the
chief architectural attractions of the town. We see the dates 1624 and
1637 inscribed on different parts of the building, but its chief glory
is the Globe Room, with a large window, rich plaster ceiling, good
panelling, elaborately decorated doorways and chimney-piece. The
courtyard is a fine specimen of sixteenth-century architecture. A
curious feature is the mounting-block near the large oriel window. It
must have been designed not for mounting horses, unless these were of
giant size, but for climbing to the top of coaches. The Globe Room is
a typical example of Vanishing England, as it is reported that the
whole building has been sold for transportation to America. We give an
illustration of some old houses in Paradise Square, that does not
belie its name. The houses all round the square are thatched, and the
gardens in the centre are a blaze of colour, full of old-fashioned
flowers. The King's Head Inn has a good courtyard. Banbury suffered
from a disastrous fire in 1628 which destroyed a great part of the
town, and called forth a vehement sermon from the Rev. William
Whateley, of two hours' duration, on the depravity of the town, which
merited such a severe judgment. In spite of the fire much old work
survived, and we give an illustration of a Tudor fire-place which you
cannot now discover, as it is walled up into the passage of an
ironmonger's shop.
[Illustration: The "Fish House," Littleport, Cambs]
The old ports and harbours are always attractive. The old fishermen
mending their nets delight to tell their stories of their adventures,
and retain their old customs and usages, which are profoundly
interesting to the lovers of folk-lore. Their houses are often
primitive and quaint. There is the curious Fish House at Littleport,
Cambridgeshire, with part of it built of stone, having a gable and
Tudor weather-moulding over the windows. The rest of the building was
added at a later date.
[Illustration: Sixteenth-century Cottage, formerly standing in Upper
Deal, Kent]
In Upper Deal there is an interesting house which shows Flemish
influence in the construction of its picturesque gable and octagonal
chimney, and contrasted with it an early sixteenth-century cottage
much the worse for wear.
We give a sketch of a Portsmouth row which resembles in narrowness
those at Yarmouth, and in Crown Street there is a battered,
three-gabled, weather-boarded house which has evidently seen better
days. There is a fine canopy over the front door of Buckingham House,
wherein George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, was assassinated by John
Felton on August 23rd, 1628.
[Illustration: Gable, Upper Deal, Kent]
The Vale of Aylesbury is one of the sweetest and most charmingly
characteristic tracts of land in the whole of rural England,
abounding with old houses. The whole countryside literally teems with
picturesque evidences of the past life and history of England. Ancient
landmarks and associations are so numerous that it is difficult to
mention a few without seeming to ignore unfairly their equally
interesting neighbours. Let us take the London road, which enters the
shire from Middlesex and makes for Aylesbury, a meandering road with
patches of scenery strongly suggestive of Birket Foster's landscapes.
Down a turning at the foot of the lovely Chiltern Hills lies the
secluded village of Chalfont St. Giles. Here Milton, the poet, sought
refuge from plague-stricken London among a colony of fellow Quakers,
and here remains, in a very perfect state, the cottage in which he
lived and was visited by Andrew Marvel. It is said that his neighbour
Elwood, one of the Quaker fraternity, suggested the idea of "Paradise
Regained," and that the draft of the latter poem was written upon a
great oak table which may be seen in one of the low-pitched rooms on
the ground floor. I fancy that Milton must have beautified and
repaired the cottage at the period of his tenancy. The mantelpiece
with its classic ogee moulding belongs certainly to his day, and some
other minor details may also be noticed which support this inference.
It is not difficult to imagine that one who was accustomed to
metropolitan comforts would be dissatisfied with the open hearth
common to country cottages of that poet's time, and have it enclosed
in the manner in which we now see it. Outside the garden is brilliant
with old-fashioned flowers, such as the poet loved. A stone scutcheon
may be seen peeping through the shrubbery which covers the front of
the cottage, but the arms which it displays are those of the
Fleetwoods, one time owners of these tenements. Between the years 1709
and 1807 the house was used as an inn. Milton's cottage is one of our
national treasures, which (though not actually belonging to the
nation) has successfully resisted purchase by our American cousins and
transportation across the Atlantic.
[Illustration: A Portsmouth "Row"]
The entrance to the churchyard in Chalfont St. Giles is through a
wonderfully picturesque turnstile or lich-gate under an ancient house
in the High Street. The gate formerly closed itself mechanically by
means of a pulley to which was attached a heavy weight. Unfortunately
this weight was not boxed in--as in the somewhat similar example at
Hayes, in Middlesex--and an accident which happened to some children
resulted in its removal.
[Illustration: Lich-gate, Chalfont St. Giles, Bucks]
A good many picturesque old houses remain in the village, among them
being one called Stonewall Farm, a structure of the fifteenth century
with an original billet-moulded porch and Gothic barge-boards.
There is a certain similarity about the villages that dot the Vale of
Aylesbury. The old Market House is usually a feature of the High
Street--where it has not been spoilt as at Wendover. Groups of
picturesque timber cottages, thickest round the church, and shouldered
here and there by their more respectable and severe Georgian brethren,
are common to all, and vary but little in their general aspect and
colouring. Memories and legends haunt every hamlet, the very names of
which have an ancient sound carrying us vaguely back to former days.
Prince's Risborough, once a manor of the Black Prince; Wendover, the
birthplace of Roger of Wendover, the medieval historian, and author of
the Chronicle _Flores Historiarum, or History of the World from the
Creation to the year 1235_, in modern language a somewhat "large
order"; Hampden, identified to all time with the patriot of that name;
and so on indefinitely. At Monk's Risborough, another hamlet with an
ancient-sounding name, but possessing no special history, is a church
of the Perpendicular period containing some features of exceptional
interest, and internally one of the most charmingly picturesque of its
kind. The carved tie-beams of the porch with their masks and tracery
and the great stone stoup which appears in one corner have an
_unrestored_ appearance which is quite delightful in these days of
over-restoration. The massive oak door has some curious iron fittings,
and the interior of the church itself displays such treasures as a
magnificent early Tudor roof and an elegant fifteenth-century
chancel-screen, on the latter of which some remains of ancient
painting exist.[15]
[15] The rood-loft has unfortunately disappeared.
[Illustration: Fifteenth-century Handle on Church Door, Monk's
Risborough, Bucks]
Thame, just across the Oxfordshire border, is another town of the
greatest interest. The noble parish church here contains a number of
fine brasses and tombs, including the recumbent effigies of Lord John
Williams of Thame and his wife, who flourished in the reign of Queen
Mary. The chancel-screen is of uncommon character, the base being
richly decorated with linen panelling, while above rises an arcade in
which Gothic form mingles freely with the grotesqueness of the
Renaissance. The choir-stalls are also lavishly ornamented with the
linen-fold decoration.
The centre of Thame's broad High Street is narrowed by an island of
houses, once termed Middle Row, and above the jumble of tiled roofs
here rises like a watch-tower a most curious and interesting medieval
house known as the "Bird Cage Inn." About this structure little is
known; it is, however, referred to in an old document as the "tenement
called the Cage, demised to James Rosse by indenture for the term of
100 years, yielding therefor by the year 8s.," and appears to have
been a farm-house. The document in question is a grant of Edward IV to
Sir John William of the Charity or Guild of St. Christopher in Thame,
founded by Richard Quartemayne, _Squier_, who died in the year 1460.
This house, though in some respects adapted during later years from
its original plan, is structurally but little altered, and should be
taken in hand and _intelligently_ restored as an object of local
attraction and interest. The choicest oaks of a small forest must have
supplied its framework, which stands firm as the day when it was
built. The fine corner-posts (now enclosed) should be exposed to view,
and the mullioned windows which jut out over a narrow passage should
be opened up. If this could be done--and not overdone--the "Bird Cage"
would hardly be surpassed as a miniature specimen of medieval timber
architecture in the county. A stone doorway of Gothic form and a kind
of almery or safe exist in its cellars.
A school was founded at Thame by Lord John Williams, whose recumbent
effigy exists in the church, and amongst the students there during the
second quarter of the seventeenth century was Anthony Wood, the Oxford
antiquary. Thame about this time was the centre of military operations
between the King's forces and the rebels, and was continually being
beaten up by one side or the other. Wood, though but a boy at the
time, has left on record in his narrative some vivid impressions of
the conflicts which he personally witnessed, and which bring the
disjointed times before us in a vision of strange and absolute
reality.
He tells of Colonel Blagge, the Governor of Wallingford Castle, who
was on a marauding expedition, being chased through the streets of
Thame by Colonel Crafford, who commanded the Parliamentary garrison at
Aylesbury, and how one man fell from his horse, and the Colonel "held
a pistol to him, but the trooper cried 'Quarter!' and the rebels came
up and rifled him and took him and his horse away with them." On
another occasion, just as a company of Roundhead soldiers were sitting
down to dinner, a Cavalier force appeared "to beat up their quarters,"
and the Roundheads retired in a hurry, leaving "A.W. and the
schoolboyes, sojourners in the house," to enjoy their venison pasties.
He tells also of certain doings at the Nag's Head, a house that still
exists--a very ancient hostelry, though not nearly so old a building
as the Bird Cage Inn. The sign is no longer there, but some
interesting features remain, among them the huge strap hinges on the
outer door, fashioned at their extremities in the form of
fleurs-de-lis. We should like to linger long at Thame and describe the
wonders at Thame Park, with its remains of a Cistercian abbey and the
fine Tudor buildings of Robert King, last abbot and afterward the
first Bishop of Oxford. The three fine oriel windows and stair-turret,
the noble Gothic dining-hall and abbot's parlour panelled with oak in
the style of the linen pattern, are some of the finest Tudor work in
the country. The Prebendal house and chapel built by Grossetête are
also worthy of the closest attention. The chapel is an architectural
gem of Early English design, and the rest of the house with its later
Perpendicular windows is admirable. Not far away is the interesting
village of Long Crendon, once a market-town, with its fine church and
its many picturesque houses, including Staple Hall, near the church,
with its noble hall, used for more than five centuries as a manorial
court-house on behalf of various lords of the manor, including Queen
Katherine, widow of Henry V. It has now fortunately passed into the
care of the National Trust, and its future is secured for the benefit
of the nation. The house is a beautiful half-timbered structure, and
was in a terribly dilapidated condition. It is interesting both
historically and architecturally, and is note-worthy as illustrating
the continuity of English life, that the three owners from whom the
Trust received the building, Lady Kinloss, All Souls' College, and the
Ecclesiastical Commissioners, are the successors in title of three
daughters of an Earl of Pembroke in the thirteenth century. It is
fortunate that the old house has fallen into such good hands. The
village has a Tudor manor-house which has been restored.
Another court-house, that at Udimore, in Sussex, near Rye, has, we
believe, been saved by the Trust, though the owner has retained
possession. It is a picturesque half-timbered building of two storeys
with modern wings projecting at right angles at each end. The older
portion is all that remains of a larger house which appears to have
been built in the fifteenth century. The manor belonged to the Crown,
and it is said that both Edward I and Edward III visited it. The
building was in a very dilapidated condition, and the owner intended
to destroy it and replace it with modern cottages. We hope that this
scheme has now been abandoned, and that the old house is safe for many
years to come.
[Illustration: Weather-boarded Houses, Crown Street, Portsmouth]
At the other end of the county of Oxfordshire remote from Thame is the
beautiful little town of Burford, the gem of the Cotswolds. No
wonder that my friend "Sylvanus Urban," otherwise Canon Beeching,
sings of its charm:--
Oh fair is Moreton in the marsh
And Stow on the wide wold,
Yet fairer far is Burford town
With its stone roofs grey and old;
And whether the sky be hot and high,
Or rain fall thin and chill,
The grey old town on the lonely down
Is where I would be still.
O broad and smooth the Avon flows
By Stratford's many piers;
And Shakespeare lies by Avon's side
These thrice a hundred years;
But I would be where Windrush sweet
Laves Burford's lovely hill--
The grey old town on the lonely down
Is where I would be still.
It is unlike any other place, this quaint old Burford, a right
pleasing place when the sun is pouring its beams upon the fantastic
creations of the builders of long ago, and when the moon is full there
is no place in England which surpasses it in picturesqueness. It is
very quiet and still now, but there was a time when Burford cloth,
Burford wool, Burford stone, Burford malt, and Burford saddles were
renowned throughout the land. Did not the townsfolk present two of its
famous saddles to "Dutch William" when he came to Burford with the
view of ingratiating himself into the affections of his subjects
before an important general election? It has been the scene of
battles. Not far off is Battle Edge, where the fierce kings of Wessex
and Mercia fought in 720 A.D. on Midsummer Eve, in commemoration of
which the good folks of Burford used to carry a dragon up and down the
streets, the great dragon of Wessex. Perhaps the origin of this
procession dates back to early pagan days before the battle was
fought, but tradition connects it with the fight. Memories cluster
thickly around one as you walk up the old street. It was the first
place in England to receive the privilege of a Merchant Guild. The
gaunt Earl of Warwick, the King-maker, owned the place, and
appropriated to himself the credit of erecting the almshouses, though
Henry Bird gave the money. You can still see the Earl's signature at
the foot of the document relating to this foundation--R.
Warrewych--the only signature known save one at Belvoir. You can see
the ruined Burford Priory. It is not the conventual building wherein
the monks lived in pre-Reformation days and served God in the grand
old church that is Burford's chief glory. Edmund Harman, the royal
barber-surgeon, received a grant of the Priory from Henry VIII for
curing him from a severe illness. Then Sir Laurence Tanfield, Chief
Baron of the Exchequer, owned it, who married a Burford lady,
Elizabeth Cobbe. An aged correspondent tells me that in the days of
her youth there was standing a house called Cobb Hall, evidently the
former residence of Lady Tanfield's family. He built a grand
Elizabethan mansion on the site of the old Priory, and here was born
Lucius Gary, Lord Falkland, who was slain in Newbury fight. That Civil
War brought stirring times to Burford. You have heard of the fame of
the Levellers, the discontented mutineers in Cromwell's army, the
followers of John Lilburne, who for a brief space threatened the
existence of the Parliamentary regime. Cromwell dealt with them with
an iron hand. He caught and surprised them at Burford and imprisoned
them in the church, wherein carved roughly on the font with a dagger
you can see this touching memorial of one of these poor men:--
ANTHONY SEDLEY PRISNER 1649.
[Illustration: Inscription on Font, Parish Church, Burford, Oxon]
Three of the leaders were shot in the churchyard on the following
morning in view of the other prisoners, who were placed on the leaden
roof of the church, and you can still see the bullet-holes in the old
wall against which the unhappy men were placed. The following entries
in the books of the church tell the sad story tersely:--
_Burials._--"1649 Three soldiers shot to death in Burford
Churchyard May 17th."
"Pd. to Daniel Muncke for cleansinge the Church when the
Levellers were taken 3s. 4d."
[Illustration: Detail of Fifteenth-century Barge-board, Burford,
Oxon.]
A walk through the streets of the old town is refreshing to an
antiquary's eyes. The old stone buildings grey with age with tile
roofs, the old Tolsey much restored, the merchants' guild mark over
many of the ancient doorways, the noble church with its eight
chapels and fine tombs, the plate of the old corporation, now in the
custody of its oldest surviving member (Burford has ceased to be an
incorporated borough), are all full of interest. Vandalism is not,
however, quite lacking, even in Burford. One of the few Gothic
chimneys remaining, a gem with a crocketed and pinnacled canopy, was
taken down some thirty years ago, while the Priory is said to be in
danger of being pulled down, though a later report speaks only of its
restoration. In the coaching age the town was alive with traffic, and
Burford races, established by the Merry Monarch, brought it much
gaiety. At the George Inn, now degraded from its old estate and cut up
into tenements, Charles I stayed. It was an inn for more than a
century before his time, and was only converted from that purpose
during the early years of the nineteenth century, when the proprietor
of the Bull Inn bought it up and closed its doors to the public with a
view to improving the prosperity of his own house. The restoration of
the picturesque almshouses founded by Henry Bird in the time of the
King-maker, a difficult piece of work, was well carried out in the
decadent days of the "twenties," and happily they do not seem to have
suffered much in the process.
[Illustration: The George Inn, Burford, Oxon]
During our wanderings in the streets and lanes of rural England we
must not fail to visit the county of Essex. It is one of the least
picturesque of our counties, but it possesses much wealth of
interesting antiquities in the timber houses at Colchester, Saffron
Walden, the old town of Maldon, the inns at Chigwell and Brentwood,
and the halls of Layer Marney and Horsham at Thaxted. Saffron Walden
is one of those quaint agricultural towns whose local trade is a thing
of the past. From the records which are left of it in the shape of
prints and drawings, the town in the early part of the nineteenth
century must have been a medieval wonder. It is useless now to rail
against the crass ignorance and vandalism which has swept away so many
irreplaceable specimens of bygone architecture only to fill their
sites with brick boxes, "likely indeed and all alike."
Itineraries of the Georgian period when mentioning Saffron Walden
describe the houses as being of "mean appearance,"[16] which remark,
taking into consideration the debased taste of the times, is
significant. A perfect holocaust followed, which extending through
that shocking time known as the Churchwarden Period has not yet spent
itself in the present day. Municipal improvements threaten to go
further still, and in these commercial days, when combined capital
under such appellations as the "Metropolitan Co-operative" or the
"Universal Supply Stores" endeavours to increase its display behind
plate-glass windows of immodest size, the life of old buildings seems
painfully insecure.
[16] _Excursions in Essex_, published in 1819, states: "The old
market cross and gaol are taking down. The market cross has long
been considered a nuisance."
A good number of fine early barge-boards still remain in Saffron
Walden, and the timber houses which have been allowed to remain speak
only too eloquently of the beauties which have vanished. One of these
structures--a large timber building or collection of buildings, for
the dates of erection are various--stands in Church Street, and was
formerly the Sun Inn, a hostel of much importance in bygone times.
This house of entertainment is said to have been in 1645 the quarters
of the Parliamentary Generals Cromwell, Ireton, and Skippon. In 1870,
during the conversion of the Sun Inn into private residences, some
glazed tiles were discovered bricked up in what had once been an open
hearth. These tiles were collectively painted with a picture on each
side of the hearth, and bore the inscription "W.E. 1730," while on one
of them a bust of the Lord Protector was depicted, thus showing the
tradition to have been honoured during the second George's time.[17]
Saffron Walden was the rendezvous of the Parliamentarian forces after
the sacking of Leicester, having their encampment on Triplow Heath. A
remarkable incident may be mentioned in connexion with this fact. In
1826 a rustic, while ploughing some land to the south of the town,
turned up with his share the brass seal of Leicester Hospital, which
seal had doubtless formed part of the loot acquired by the rebel army.
[17] These tiles have now found a place in the excellent local museum.
The Sun Inn, or "House of the Giants," as it has sometimes been
called, from the colossal figures which appear in the pargeting over
its gateway, is a building which evidently grew with the needs of the
town, and a study of its architectural features is curiously
instructive.
The following extract from Pepys's _Diary_ is interesting as referring
to Saffron Walden:--
"1659, Feby. 27th. Up by four o'clock. Mr. Blayton and I took
horse and straight to Saffron Walden, where at the White Hart we
set up our horses and took the master to show us Audley End House,
where the housekeeper showed us all the house, in which the
stateliness of the ceilings, chimney-pieces, and form of the whole
was exceedingly worth seeing. He took us into the cellar, where we
drank most admirable drink, a health to the King. Here I played on
my flageolette, there being an excellent echo. He showed us
excellent pictures; two especially, those of the four Evangelists
and Henry VIII. In our going my landlord carried us through a very
old hospital or almshouse, where forty poor people were
maintained; a very old foundation, and over the chimney-piece was
an inscription in brass: 'Orato pro animâ Thomae Bird,' &c. They
brought me a draft of their drink in a brown bowl, tipt with
silver, which I drank off, and at the bottom was a picture of the
Virgin with the child in her arms done in silver. So we took
leave...."
The inscription and the "brown bowl" (which is a mazer cup) still
remain, but the picturesque front of the hospital, built in the reign
of Edward VI, disappeared during the awful "improvements" which took
place during the "fifties." A drawing of it survives in the local
museum.
Maldon, the capital of the Blackwater district, is to the eye of an
artist a town for twilight effects. The picturesque skyline of its
long, straggling street is accentuated in the early morning or
afterglow, when much undesirable detail of modern times below the
tiled roofs is blurred and lost. In broad daylight the quaintness of
its suburbs towards the river reeks of the salt flavour of W.W.
Jacobs's stories. Formerly the town was rich with such massive timber
buildings as still appear in the yard of the Blue Boar--an ancient
hostelry which was evidently modernized externally in Pickwickian
times. While exploring in the outhouses of this hostel Mr. Roe lighted
on a venerable posting-coach of early nineteenth-century origin among
some other decaying vehicles, a curiosity even more rare nowadays than
the Gothic king-posts to be seen in the picturesque half-timbered
billiard-room.
[Illustration: Maldon, Essex. Sky-line of the High Street at twilight]
The country around Maldon is dotted plentifully with evidences of
past ages; Layer Marney, with its famous towers; D'Arcy Hall, noted
for containing some of the finest linen panelling in England; Beeleigh
Abbey, and other old-world buildings. The sea-serpent may still be
seen at Heybridge, on the Norman church-door, one of the best of its
kind, and exhibiting almost all its original ironwork, including the
chimerical decorative clamp.
[Illustration: St. Mary's Church, Maldon]
The ancient house exhibited at the Franco-British Exhibition at
Shepherd's Bush was a typical example of an Elizabethan dwelling. It
was brought from Ipswich, where it was doomed to make room for the
extension of Co-operative Stores, but so firmly was it built that, in
spite of its age of three hundred and fifty years, it defied for some
time the attacks of the house-breakers. It was built in 1563, as the
date carved on the solid lintel shows, but some parts of the structure
may have been earlier. All the oak joists and rafters had been
securely mortised into each other and fixed with stout wooden pins. So
securely were these pins fixed, that after many vain attempts to knock
them out, they had all to be bored out with augers. The mortises and
tenons were found to be as sound and clean as on the day when they
were fitted by the sixteenth-century carpenters. The foundations and
the chimneys were built of brick. The house contained a large
entrance-hall, a kitchen, a splendidly carved staircase, a
living-room, and two good bedrooms, on the upper floor. The whole
house was a fine specimen of East Anglian half-timber work. The
timbers that formed the framework were all straight, the diamond and
curved patterns, familiar in western counties, signs of later
construction, being altogether absent. One of the striking features of
this, as of many other timber-framed houses, is the carved corner or
angle post. It curves outwards as a support to the projecting first
floor to the extent of nearly two feet, and the whole piece was hewn
out of one massive oak log, the root, as was usual, having been placed
upwards, and beautifully carved with Gothic floriations. The full
overhang of the gables is four feet six inches. In later examples this
distance between the gables and the wall was considerably reduced,
until at last the barge-boards were flush with the wall. The joists of
the first floor project from under a finely carved string-course, and
the end of each joist has a carved finial. All the inside walls were
panelled with oak, and the fire-place is of the typical old English
character, with seats for half a dozen people in the ingle-nook. The
principal room had a fine Tudor door, and the frieze and some of the
panels were enriched with an inlay of holly. When the house was
demolished many of the choicest fittings which were missing from their
places were found carefully stowed under the floor boards. Possibly a
raid or a riot had alarmed the owners in some distant period, and they
hid their nicest things and then were slain, and no one knew of the
secret hiding-place.
[Illustration: Norman Clamp on door of Heybridge Church, Essex]
[Illustration: Tudor Fire-place. Now walled up in the passage of a
shop in Banbury]
The Rector of Haughton calls attention to a curious old house which
certainly ought to be preserved if it has not yet quite vanished.
"It is completely hidden from the public gaze. Right away in the
fields, to be reached only by footpath, or by strangely circuitous
lane, in the parish of Ranton, there stands a little old
half-timbered house, known as the Vicarage Farm. Only a very
practised eye would suspect the treasures that it contains.
Entering through the original door, with quaint knocker intact,
you are in the kitchen with a fine open fire-place, noble beam,
and walls panelled with oak. But the principal treasure consists
in what I have heard called 'The priest's room.' I should venture
to put the date of the house at about 1500--certainly
pre-Reformation. How did it come to be there? and what purpose did
it serve? I have only been able to find one note which can throw
any possible light on the matter. Gough says that a certain Rose
(Dunston?) brought land at Ranton to her husband John Doiley; and
he goes on: 'This man had the consent of William, the Prior of
Ranton, to erect a chapel at Ranton.' The little church at Ranton
has stood there from the thirteenth century, as the architecture
of the west end and south-west doorway plainly testify. The church
and cell (or whatever you may call it) must clearly have been an
off-shoot from the Priory. But the room: for this is what is
principally worth seeing. The beam is richly moulded, and so is
the panelling throughout. It has a very well carved course of
panelling all round the top, and this is surmounted by an
elaborate cornice. The stone mantelpiece is remarkably fine and of
unusual character. But the most striking feature of the room is a
square-headed arched recess, or niche, with pierced spandrels.
What was its use? It is about the right height for a seat, and
what may have been the seat is there unaltered. Or was it a niche
containing a Calvary, or some figure? I confess I know nothing. Is
this a unique example? I cannot remember any other. But possibly
there may be others, equally hidden away, comparison with which
might unfold its secret. In this room, and in other parts of the
house, much of the old ironwork of hinges and door-fasteners
remains, and is simply excellent. The old oak sliding shutters are
still there, and two more fine stone mantelpieces; on one hearth
the original encaustic tiles with patterns, chiefly a Maltese
cross, and the oak cill surrounding them, are _in situ_. I confess
I tremble for the safety of this priceless relic. The house is in
a somewhat dilapidated condition; and I know that one attempt was
made to buy the panelling and take it away. Surely such a monument
of the past should be in some way guarded by the nation."
The beauty of English cottage-building, its directness, simplicity,
variety, and above all its inevitable quality, the intimate way in
which the buildings ally themselves with the soil and blend with the
ever-varied and exquisite landscape, the delicate harmonies, almost
musical in their nature, that grow from their gentle relationship with
their surroundings, the modulation from man's handiwork to God's
enveloping world that lies in the quiet gardening that binds one to
the other without discord or dissonance--all these things are
wonderfully attractive to those who have eyes to see and hearts to
understand. The English cottages have an importance in the story of
the development of architecture far greater than that which concerns
their mere beauty and picturesqueness. As we follow the history of
Gothic art we find that for the most part the instinctive art in
relation to church architecture came to an end in the first quarter of
the sixteenth century, but the right impulse did not cease.
House-building went on, though there was no church-building, and we
admire greatly some of those grand mansions which were reared in the
time of Elizabeth and the early Stuarts; but art was declining, a
crumbling taste causing disintegration of the sense of real beauty and
refinement of detail. A creeping paralysis set in later, and the end
came swiftly when the dark days of the eighteenth century blotted out
even the memory of a great past. And yet during all this time the
people, the poor and middle classes, the yeomen and farmers, were ever
building, building, quietly and simply, untroubled by any thoughts
of style, of Gothic art or Renaissance; hence the cottages and
dwellings of the humblest type maintained in all their integrity the
real principles that made medieval architecture great. Frank, simple,
and direct, built for use and not for the establishment of
architectural theories, they have transmitted their messages to the
ages and have preserved their beauties for the admiration of mankind
and as models for all time.
[Illustration: Wilney Street Burford]