At the commencement of these papers we attempted to describe the growth
of English villages and their origin as the surrounding adjuncts of
the villa, or residence of the proprietor of the district, or lord of
the soil. In Roman times this residence was called a villa; in Saxon
and Norman times it became a castle, and after that important wave
of civilisation which passed over this country in the 13th century,
curtailing the power of the barons, it became “the manor house.” Now
although the manor house of the 14th century was a less formidable
building than the Norman castle, it was generally an important
structure, and at times possessed considerable architectural beauty.
Very few early manor houses are perfect now, or in any way complete,
as they were nearly ruined, if not destroyed, during the “Wars of
the Roses.” Sometimes, however, we may still trace fragments of them
attached to modern cottages or houses. The finest fragment of the
kind we know is to be seen at the little village of Arminghall, about
ten miles from Norwich. A cottage or small farmhouse here possesses
a doorway which is, perhaps, the finest example of domestic Gothic
architecture in the country. It is improbable that it was originally
intended to serve its present use as an entrance to a cottage porch,
and the traditions of the place point to its having been a fragment of
an ancient manor house, called by the people “The Old Hall.” Little or
nothing seems to be known about it, and if it really did form a portion
of some ancient mansion, with the solitary exception of this arch,
everything else has disappeared. As will be seen from our sketch, it is
a very elaborate work of remarkable design, and from its style there
can be little doubt that it dates from the reign of Edward III. Between
the mouldings which enclose the arch runs a broad band of carved
foliage chiefly representing a vine, with lizards looking through the
leaves. On either side of the arch are very elaborate niches in two
ranges filled with statues of knights and ladies. Delicately-treated
pinnacles and finials adorn these niches, and the whole work is
remarkable for elegance and most finished workmanship, somewhat
resembling the fragment of the hall of the bishop’s palace at Norwich.
The inner doorway of the porch forms no portion of this beautiful work,
as it is late Tudor, and the curious slabs over the doorway look like
seventeenth century carvings. Now whether this magnificent doorway is
a portion of some mansion which was completed at the same time, or
whether no portion of the architectural scheme, except the doorway,
was carried out, or, what is perhaps still more probable, whether after
the work had been abandoned for centuries, it was again resumed, and
carried out in a much plainer and less costly style, of which the inner
doorway is the only existing portion, it is quite impossible to say.
However the case may be, there can be no doubt that this cottage at
Arminghall has the most beautiful doorway of a house in England. There
is nothing whatever of interest in the cottage itself apart from its
entrance.
[Illustration: A MODERN COTTAGE.]
Manor houses of the Tudor times are by no means uncommon in our English
villages, but it should be pointed out that most of the mansions
erected in what is called the “Elizabethan style” are really works of
the time of James I., or that of Charles I.
We have now completed our task of describing the cottages and other
architectural objects in English villages as they existed in bygone
times, a few have escaped destruction down to our own day, but it is
too much to be feared even these will, in a few years, have ceased to
exist. The last half century, over which our personal recollection
extends, has witnessed such a vast amount of destruction that it is
difficult to believe in anything remaining at the end of another half
century.
The fact is, railways, competition, machinery, the concentration of
our “industrial classes” in large cities, the gradual extinction of
the yeoman class, and the difficulty to obtain a bare subsistence as a
small tenant farmer, have completely changed the condition of country
life, and if we are ever again to have pretty villages they will be
inhabited by ladies and gentlemen glad to escape occasionally from the
toil of town life, and to recruit themselves in pretty cottages amidst
charming scenery, pleasant gardens, and all the sweetness of a country
life without its sordid toil, losses and vexations. We give a view of a
home of this kind situated amidst the exquisite scenery of the Surrey
hills as a pattern cottage of the future.
VARIETIES.
A LADY PHYSICIAN IN THE HOLY LAND.
A Scottish clergyman tells us that when travelling recently in
Palestine, not far from the fountains of Banias, he saw the Stars and
Stripes fluttering in the breeze.
“Coming up,” he says, “we found a cluster of tents, and standing to
welcome us an American lady who is doing a splendid work as a physician
in Palestine and northern Syria. For eight months of the year she lives
in tents, moving from Acohs in the south to Baalbek in the north.
Having a full medical qualification, she is the only lady permitted
to practise in Syria, and as she is something of a specialist in eye
diseases, she draws patients from far and near.”
WHO WANTS WORK?
We cannot all be heroes,
And thrill a hemisphere
With some great daring venture,
Some deed that mocks at fear;
But we can fill a lifetime
With kindly acts and true;
There’s always noble service
For noble souls to do.
_C. A. Mason._
TO WHICH CLASS DO YOU BELONG?—“The human race is divided,” says Oliver
Wendell Holmes, “into two classes: those who go ahead and do something,
and those who sit and inquire, ‘Why wasn’t it done the other way?’”
BORROWED MONEY.
_Mrs. Smiley:_ “I make it a rule never to ask a lady to return money
she has borrowed from me.”
_Mrs. Dobson:_ “Then how do you manage to get it?”
_Mrs. Smiley:_ “Oh, after I have waited a considerable time, if she
fails to pay up, I conclude that she is not a lady, and then I ask her.”
MUSICAL PERFORMERS.—The question has recently been asked whether it is
justifiable for a pianist to express to her hearers what she conceives
to be the emotional characteristics of the music she is playing by
facial play and gesticulations? Certainly not.
THE HOUSE WITH THE VERANDAH.
BY ISABELLA FYVIE MAYO, Author of “Other People’s Stairs,” “Her Object
in Life,” etc.