Thence I Went...Under Ground

On her 1697 tour of northern England Celia Fiennes visited landmarks rightly considered to be (and cannily marketed as) "great wonders". One such were the underground caverns called Poole's Hole, now known as  Poole's Cavern. It was a tourist attraction as early as 1622 and widely written about over the next few centuries (but I noticed Celia's account is scandalously omitted from the website's Literary Heritage page - for shame!).

No wonder that I thought of her when I visited the Luray Caverns, 'a subterranean world of wonder' right here in northern Virginia.

Limestone and mineral rock formations in Luray Caverns

Celia described her visit to Poole and the sights within the cavern:

"Just at the Entrance you must Creep, but presently you stand upright, its Roofe being very Lofty all arched in the Rocks and sound with a great Ecchoe. The Rocks are Continually dropping water all about, you pass over Loose stones and Craggy Rocks. The dripping of the water wears impression on the Stones that forms them into Severall Shapes"

The Luray Caverns were discovered in 1878 but are estimated to be 5 million years older than Celia's caves at Poole. Thanks to a good bit of engineering over the last century modern visitors don't have to 'Creep', you descend into the caverns via a sturdy staircase with signs urging, "Please Use the Hand Rails!" and penetrate into the depths along a bricked path lit with electric lights. I kept wondering what it was like for Celia, having to crawl into the cave (so unladylike, and in a fitted bodice and stays - so uncomfortable!) with no illumination on the path but the light of some candles in a lantern carried by a guide.

Pillars reaching more than 20 feet high

Like Poole's Hole, the cave rooms and some of the formations at Luray have names - all exceedingly fitting: Saracens Tent, Giant's Hall, Dream Lake, Pluto's Ghost, and Titania's Veil. There's even one monolithic formation affectionately called The Shaggy Dog. It's only 7 million years old; a mere blip in the grand scheme of geological formation.

The Shaggy Dog, largest formation in the caverns at approximately 7 million years in the making. At over 40 feet in height, standing before it makes you feel very small, in more ways than one.

Celia's friend and contemporary Daniel Defoe published his three volume A Tour Thro' The Whole Island of Great Britain, Divided into Circuits or Journies between 1724 and 1727. I often wonder if his travels weren't inspired by Celia's tales of her own. I enjoy comparing the two accounts, especially their descriptions of how the caves must have been formed, which I share here with you along with my own:

Celia Fiennes, 1697: "but the difficulty appears as to this hole how so large a Cavity should be Left, as in some places the Roofe is as lofty as you can see and all stone; now how it should be fixt so as not to tumble in by the weight of the Earth or stone on the top: as to the waters dropping it is but what is Customary among rocks and stones, there are many springs which run in the veines of the Earth and allwayes are running in such subteraneus vaults in the Earth, which gather together and runns in a little Channell in the bottom of this Cave"

Daniel Defoe, c. 1724: "It is a great cave, or natural vault, ancient doubtless as the mountain itself, and occasioned by the fortuitous position of the rocks at the creation of all things, or perhaps at the great absorption or influx of the surface into the abyss at the great rupture of the earth's crust or shell."

Deb Wiles, 2014: "Water plus Time equals THAT!? Woooooooaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!! "

Yeah, whoever finds my travel diary 300 years from now might be a wee bit disappointed.

I do have two advantages over Ms. Fiennes and Mr. Defoe, though. Namely 300 years of scientific advancement in geology and a little tool called Google. Like those at Poole, Luray's caverns are "solution caves", meaning a solution of calcium carbonate donates some of its carbon dioxide, allowing a precipitate of lime to form. The limestone which is formed by this precipitate grows at the supersonic rate of approximately one inch every 120 years. Highly acidic water once filled the chambers and ate away the softer material. As the natural water table declined, the chambers drained leaving the eroded forms behind, which are still growing. There are still springs in the caves and a constant drip in places due to surface water percolating down into the caverns. Our guide called these drips "cavern kisses" and claimed each 'kiss' brought 100 years of good luck. I should be set for the next four centuries. I suspect if the dripping at Poole's Hole had such a catchy nick name Celia would have mentioned it but all she says is:

"The dripping of the water wears impression on ye Stones that forms them into Severall Shapes, there is one Looks Like a Lyon wth a Crown on his head, ye water trickling on it weares it into so many shapes; another place Lookes just Like ye shape of a Large organ wth ye severall Keys and pipes one above another as you see in a great Cathedrall;"

I wonder if Leland W. Sprinkle had read Celia's diary when he set about creating the Great Stalacpipe Organ at Luray? It's the largest musical instrument in the world, and took three years to build starting in 1956. Sprinkle reputedly got the idea when touring the caves with his son, who hit his head on a stalactite producing a musical tone. He painstakingly located and shaved thirty-seven naturally formed stalactites to get the right notes, connecting each one to a solenoid and small rubber mallet controlled by a traditional organ console. The caves cover 64 acres and while the selected stalactites are spread around only 3.5 acres within the caves, the sound can be heard anywhere in those 64 acres. It really is an amazing feat of science and musical engineering, and I found myself wishing again for that TARDIS so I could see the look on Celia's face when she heard this:

There is also an underground lake called the Dream Lake. Fed by a spring, the lake is only 20 inches deep but very wide. The water is crystal clear and the still surface creates a perfect mirror reflecting the ceiling above so that it looks as if stalagmites are growing up beneath the water from the lake bed. The photos don't do it justice, and a collective awestruck "Ahhhhh!" came from everyone in the tour group.

Mirrored reflection of the ceiling in the still crystal water of Dream Lake

Different minerals lend their colors to the rocks as well, from brown to red to alabaster white.

The range of colors and intricate layers in this formation can be clearly seen thanks to the lighting

 

 

The formations that really awed me were the curtains, or veils. Their delicate waves look like they were carved by a master sculptor (well, I guess one could argue they were) yet each fold took millions of years to form. Mind. Blown.

Part of Saracens Tent, one of the most well formed draperies in the world.

 



And while Celia noted the formation at Poole that looked like 'a salted flitch of Bacon', Luray's got the fried eggs to go with it:

I still intend to visit Poole's Cavern to see what Celia saw, and I have to admit I'll be a bit disappointed if I don't have to crawl through the entrance as she did, but I love the fact that these wonders exist all over the world and that some can be so similar. Take away the modern amenities and I bet my visit to Luray Caverns wasn't really all that different from Celia's to Poole's Hole. She was a bit of a rebel, though, and broke off pieces of rock as souvenirs. This practice is Frowned Upon and visitors are admonished not to touch the rocks at Luray so I had to content myself with a free piece of Unakite from the museum which my entry ticket entitled me to.

Fitz enjoyed the American version of traveling under ground

Luray Caverns are located in Luray, VA in the Shenandoah Valley. For visiting information go to their website. Guided tours last about an hour. Tip of the day: if you go on a weekend, plan to go early and beat the crowds!

Happy Birthday, Celia!

Were she alive today, Celia Fiennes would be celebrating her 352nd birthday. In the spring and summer 317 years ago she would have been embarking on what she called 'My Northern Journey' in which she traveled from London up to Scarborough and back, traveling about 635 miles on horseback or by coach over 7 weeks.

A page of Celia's diary noting the beginning of her Northern Journey (Wiles, 2012)

1697 is the only travel date she mentions in her diary. And it struck me looking at the photo of the journal entry in her own hand: She made these travels in the year 1697. Sixteen. Ninety. Seven.

No cars, no busses, no trains, sometimes no roads. No electricity, no 4G wireless, no Wi-Fi hot spots, probably no map (she would have hired guides), and none of the modern conveniences that we all take for granted nowadays. I never get tired of reading Celia's diary. In this digital age where selfies are all the rage, I wonder how much of the experience is lost when viewed through a camera lens or on a phone screen as one whizzes through a town or flits from one monument to the next. Hardly anyone keeps a journal any more. Yes, there are blogs (hello!) but one big zap from a power surge like, oh say, Betelgeuse going supernova will wipe out the servers and the blogs will be lost forever. So will the entire solar system, but that's another post for another day.

Burghley House, 'eminent for its Curiosity', built between 1555 and 1587. It had just been remodeled in the modern style by the Fifth Earl when Celia visited in 1697.

Of course I'm guilty of being a rabid picture taker and feel a great surge of gratitude to the inventor of digital photography every time I click the shutter but I'm more grateful to Celia for opening my eyes and mind to another way of seeing the places I visit. I still marvel at the level of detail she includes in her diary and wonder how she managed to retain all that information until she was able to sit down with quill and paper to record it. Seriously, I've seen her diary and she didn't write it in the coach on a bumpy dirt road between destinations.

Celia included a description of her family's seat, Broughton Castle, in Oxfordshire (Wiles, 2012)

Broughton Castle, as it looked 273 years after Celia's death (Wiles, 2012)

Still, these days we tend to rely on the camera to capture views and help us recall details when not too terribly long ago those details would have been recorded by hand, either in prose or drawing. There are no drawings in Celia's diary, though it's reasonable to expect she knew how, 17th century ladies of noble birth being schooled in the arts and all. Either she simply didn't take the time or what sketches she may have done have not survived.

Audley End, built between 1603 and 1616. If Celia's figures are to be believed, at the time of her visit there were 3 courts, 30 towers, a cupola, and 750 rooms. (Wiles, 2005)

Each time I travel I keep a journal of the journey but have not the capacity for memorizing such minute details that Celia did. She challenges me to do better at recording what I see, which helps make the traveling more enjoyable. That's especially true when I visit a place she'd also been to. Several times I've stood before a grand country house, in one of its rooms, or in the gardens with her description in hand and can instantly see how much has changed. Sometimes not much has and a little thrill travels up my spine. Is this the same view she saw? Would she have noticed those trees, that architectural detail, that painting on the wall, did she approach the place on the same road I did? Following in an historic figure's footsteps has to be one of the greatest highs in the life of a historian.

The Chapel at Chatsworth. Celia noted it as being 'very lofty...and supported by 4 large pillars of black marble two at the alter 2 just at the bottom to support the gallery for the Duke and Duchess to sitt in' (Wiles, 2012)

I will be celebrating Celia's birthday in a part of the country that's new to me and I hope I'll be able to take the time to notice things the way she did. Who knows, maybe my travel journals will be found 300 years from now and used to compare what is then to what was now. Better take good notes, then. I might even attempt a sketch or two.

Happy Birthday, Celia!

Happy Birthday, Celia Fiennes

Today marks the 351st anniversary of Celia Fiennes's birth. Someone recently asked me what made me decide to study her for my dissertation. The quick answer was that I found her descriptions of country house gardens compared to contemporary engravings of the same gardens rather interesting. That and because my tutor said it would make a good topic to study, which it was, but the more I read and re-read her diary, the more reasons presented themselves for studying the life of a traveling noblewoman born 306 years before I was.

As I began reading her travel diary, it dawned on me that I had visited many of the same places she had and I also kept a diary of my travels. Starting in 2003 I've visited England almost every year to visit gardens, sometimes with a trusty travel buddy (I'm lookin' at you, Cat!), sometimes with a tour group, even once for a working holiday. Each time I start planning a trip I buy a new Moleskine blank notebook, and start filling it with maps, locations of gardens on the itinerary, B&Bs, and contact information.

Itinerary for my historic garden tour 2012, as part of my MA Garden History. Most of the destinations were places that Celia had visited. One stop happened to be at the Garden Museum in London to hear a panel discussion on gardeners' favorite gardens. I got autographs from Mary Ann Robb from Cothay Manor; Alan Titchmarsh; and Fergus Garrett from Great Dixter (2012)

Celia's diaries don't have drawings or maps although there is a curiously blank half page in one of them that leads one to speculate that she had intended to draw or paste something there but sadly we'll never know what it was.

My photo of Celia Fiennes diary manuscript (Broughton Castle, 2012)

Celia was born June 7, 1662 to Nathaniel Fiennes, second son of the 1st Viscount Saye and Sele and his second wife Frances. He was a Colonel in the Civil War Parliamentarian Army who was tried and sentenced to death for surrendering the city of Bristol to a much larger army lead by Prince Rupert. Luckily he was exiled to the continent and his death sentence was eventually commuted. He returned to England and served as a member of Cromwell's parliament but then retired, bought the manor at Newton Tony and settled down to the quiet life of gentleman farmer and manorial lord.

Newton Tony was (and still is) a small village in Wiltshire near Salisbury.  The river Bourne (which is a Middle English word for small stream) runs through the middle of the village. On one of her journeys from Newton Tony to Winchester she remarks, 'The Little raines I had in the morning before I Left Newtontony made the wayes very slippery' . When I visited in September the little river was dry but heavy winter rains will cause it to flood, sometimes right up to the doorsteps of the thatched cottages nearby.

Thatched cottages dating to the 17th century and the dry river Bourne at Newton Tony (2012)

Being of noble birth enabled Celia to visit many of the illustrious country houses around England. Several were owned by relatives and she was a frequent visitor. What is so remarkable about her travels is that she undertook them in a time when travel abroad (meaning 5 miles from your doorstep) simply wasn't commonplace, especially for an unmarried woman. England in the 17th and early 18th centuries was a wilderness, with none of the smooth roads and neat hedgerows that greet the UK tourist today, yet with all the hardships accompanying travel on horseback she managed in one year to log 'about 1045 miles of which I did not go above a hundred in the Coach.'

Many of the hedgerows she talks about are the result of enclosure. The hedges were planted to mark one's property boundaries as agriculture moved away from the medieval Feudal model to a more capitalist and commercial one. Celia sometimes traveled whole days between miles of hedgerows without being able to see the surrounding country, the hedges were so high. Some of the B and C roads in the country are still like this and make for an exciting car ride, especially when you round a blind curve to find a lorry bearing down on you.

I've made it a goal to follow in Celia's footsteps and visit all the places she has. It will take some years, unless someone wants to give me a really big check so I can do it all in one go (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, hint, hint), but visiting the country houses and seeing them - some still exactly as Celia describes them - is such a fantastic feeling, like you really can travel back in time. I wish she could accompany me so I could ask her how things really were back then, and to see her reaction as she recognizes (or not) the places she once described in such detail.

I'd also love to ask her what she thinks about her diary being considered such an important historical resource to so many scholars. I'm sure she never meant it to be published for she had the connections and opportunities to do so during her lifetime if she wished, yet her diaries survived thanks to her family and made their way into academic consciousness. Since there is so little known about her, I've started researching her biography. No easy feat, let me tell you, but I've found a few interesting documents that shed more light on who she was and hope to be able to pull them together with more information about her travels at some point.

For now, I salute her pioneering spirit and look forward to my next trip across the pond to follow her travels. I leave you with her own reasons for traveling, which are sage words even by today's standards, no matter where you live:

Now thus much without vanity may be asserted of the subject, that if all persons, both Ladies, much more Gentlemen, would spend some of their tyme in Journeys to visit their native Land, and be curious to Inform themselves and make observations of the pleasant prospects, good buildings, different produces and manufactures of each place, with the variety of sports and recreations they are adapt to, would be a souveraign remedy to cure or preserve ffrom these Epidemick diseases of vapours, should I add Laziness? -it would also fform such an Idea of England, add much to its Glory and Esteem in our minds and cure the evil Itch of overvalueing fforeign parts; at least ffurnish them with an Equivalent to entertain strangers when amongst us, Or jnform them when abroad of their native Country, which has been often a Reproach to the English, ignorance and being strangers to themselves.

Nay the Ladies might have matter not unworthy their observation, soe subject for conversation, within their own compass in each county to which they relate, and thence studdy now to be serviceable to their neighbours especially the poor among whome they dwell, which would spare them the uneasye thoughts how to pass away tedious dayes, and tyme would not be a burthen when not at a card or dice table, and the ffashions and manners of fforeign parts less minded or desired. But much more requisite is it for Gentlemen in gl service of their country at home or abroad, in town or country, Especially those that serve in parliament to know and jnform themselves ye nature of Land, ye Genius of the Inhabitants, so as to promote and improve Manufacture and trade suitable to each and encourage all projects tending thereto, putting in practice all Laws made for each particular good, maintaining their priviledges, procuring more as requisite; but to their shame it must be own'd many if not most are Ignorant of anything but the name of the place for which they serve in parliament; how then can they speake for or promote their good or Redress their Grievances ? But ... herein I have described what have come within my knowledge either by view and reading, or relation from others which according to my conception have faithfully Rehearsed, but where I have mistaken in any form or subject matter I easily submitt to a correction and will enter such Erratas in a supplement annext to ye Book of some particulars since remark'd; and shall conclude with a hearty wish and recommendation to all, but Especially my own Sex, the studdy of those things which tends to Improve the mind and makes our Lives pleasant and comfortable as well as proffitable in all the Stages and Stations of our Lives, and render suffering & age supportable & Death less fformidable and a future State more happy. 

Happy Birthday, Celia!

A Grave Encounter

On a recent guided walk around Vauxhall one of the stops was a park which used to be a burial ground. It's shown near the top of this 1817 map as 'New Burial Ground', by which time it wasn't so new, having been opened for that purpose in 1703.

Detail from Darton's New Plan of the Cities of London and Westminster and Borough of Southwark, c. 1817 (mapco.net)

The burial ground filled up and was closed in 1853. The land was sold and eventually conveyed to the Lambeth Borough Council. In the late 19th century it was landscaped into a recreation ground and the gravestones moved to the boundary walls. Don't ask me what they did with the bodies 'cause I don't know.

Grave markers which were moved to the periphery of the recreation ground

If you've read my blog for any length of time you'll be aware of my interest in historic cemeteries. The day I volunteered to do garden clean up at Highgate Cemetery, the tour I took of Kensal Green Cemetery, the stunning view of London from atop the hill at Greenwich Cemetery and the fact that I just enjoy poking around ancient headstones and wondering about the people beneath them is sufficient to justify my status as 'geek'. Not only that, but when you're looking for a truly peaceful and quite spot in a bustling city like London, a cemetery is where you'll find it.

Well, there I was, on a beautifully bright sunny day, sufficiently intrigued as to why this plot of ground in Vauxhall was so radically altered rather than letting everyone lie in peace, snapping a few photos so that I might go back later and study it some more when another member of the walking party admonished me to "have some respect".

Beg pardon?

I was so taken aback that I didn't say anything. Perhaps I should have inquired of him why he thought photographing the stones was disrespectful, when they obviously have not been cared for. Neglect, to me, is the ultimate expression of disrespect so he would have been better aiming his admonition at the borough council. My studies have lead to me to conclude that death was not viewed in the past as we view it now, life being much shorter and beset with disease, pestilence, and war. People were lucky to make it past their 40s, many did not expect to. I've also read of women taking rubbings of their beloved's grave marker as a keepsake; would that man tell them in their hour of grief that they were being disrespectful for doing so?

I didn't say anything but if I had it would be this: I am a garden historian. My job is to study the history of gardens and landscapes designed by humans. Pictures, be they sketches, engravings, maps, drawings, paintings, rubbings, etchings, or photographs are an integral part of that study. Burial grounds, be they large or small, are areas of land designed and created by man to serve a particular purpose, just like a public park or private garden. Some cemeteries have exquisite gardens and several around London can boast Grade I and II buildings and monuments constructed with incredible artistry and craftsmanship - skills in danger of becoming extinct - which makes them all fair game for the intrepid history sleuth out to, er, uncover the story behind a piece of landscape. If taking a photo of grave stones that were moved 100 years ago is disrespectful, what about the beautiful 19th century engravings of historic Highgate Cemetery?

Engraving of Highgate Cemetery c. 1858 (victorianweb.org)

Images like this have been invaluable in the restoration and conservation of the Highgate grounds. Are the photos I took of the family marker for Celia Fiennes in the name of historical research disrespectful? Or the pics of my grandparents' and great-grandparents' markers for geneological research? (I can answer that one: no, they didn't mind. They were probably really happy to see me.)

Detail of the grave marker for Nathaniel Fiennes, his wife, two daughters who died in infancy, and daughter Celia (yes, I took the photo)

Actually, I can't see how taking photos of a grave marker would be disrespectful if the intent is for information gathering and study, and especially for conservation and presevation measures when those photos may be the only existing record of a site or feature. I can't begin to count the number of times I've been to a cemetery or inside a centuries old church where the names of those interred beneath the stones has been worn off either by the thousands of footsteps that have trod over them, by wind and weather or worse, vandalism. Heck, every time I grab a snack at Cafe in the Crypt I find myself apologizing to those who may be lying beneath my chair and hoping that records exist somewhere so that their names aren't forgotten.

Grave stones in the floor of Cafe in the Crypt, St. Martins in the Fields at Trafalgar Square (yes, I took this one, too)

And really, when you stop to think about it, touring a cathedral results in the trampling of many a grave, some of them belonging to great worthies of history. Why, I've trodden on the graves of Jane Austen and Celia Fiennes, both historical figures for whom I have tremendous admiration, and both quite by accident, them being reposed beneath the floor and all. Some might consider this shuffling over the stones disrespectful but you gotta think: the people lying beneath those stones undoubtedly knew they would be walked over or knelt on and in those instances their names would be read and they would be remembered.

Where permitted I've happily snapped photos of the interiors of cathedrals and churches, tombs of long dead aristocracy, medieval effigies, grave stones on the floor and in the long grass, and intricately carved memorials. As for taking photos of them being disrespectful, what if, God forbid, the archives were lost? Restoration of any such space would be difficult, if not impossible, were it not for the aid of images. What if the church burned to the ground or some other natural disaster struck, like municipal development, that forever damaged or destroyed the markers intended to signify a person's final resting place? When I saw the marker for Celia Fiennes it was mounted on the wall but only because the church was rebuilt 100 years after she was buried so it effectually no longer marks her exact final resting place, which was beneath the stones of the church's floor. Besides, she was a progressive woman; I think she would have been intrigued by the curious device I was using.

Well, we know that bodies have been and continue to be moved, sometimes under horrific circumstances sometimes out of necessity, which is a helluva lot more invasive than snapping a photo of the marker from 10 feet away. So, to that person on the walk I say, I will - respectfully - continue to take photos of burial grounds when permitted and thank you very kindly for giving me such an appropriate blog topic for this spectral time of year. To celebrate, I give you a sampling of the frightening and fabulous architecture and artistry that are historic burial grounds, monuments and markers (all photos by me, except where noted, and all taken with the utmost respect).


Getting into Goth sprit at the Kensal Green Cemetery tour

 



Hooray for grassland conservation at Greenwich Cemetery



Greenwich Cemetery



The most beautiful military graveyard I've ever seen at Greenwich Cemetery



Early 19th century grave stone artistry at Cafe in the Crypt, London



At Kensal Green Cemetery



Kensal Green



18th century marker at Salisbury Cathedral



Monument at Highgate Cemetery



Medieval effigy at Salisbury Cathedral



The Gothic architecture of Salisbury Cathedral



Johannes Wordsworth at Salisbury Cathedral



Monument detail at Salisbury Cathedral



Hauntingly beautiful military marker at Salisbury Cathedral



Highgate Cemetery, London



Highgate Cemetery, London
 



Markers in the garden at Postman's Park, London
 



One of the touching plaques at the G.F. Watts's Memorial to Heroic Service at Postman's Park, London



Beautiful and ghostly image from Melbourne Cemetery, Melbourne, Australia (I didn't take this one but I know who did and it was fellow history enthusiast Claudia Funder).
 

Tomb marker for a member of the Austen family (relatives of Jane), St. Mildred's Church, Tenterden, Kent

Jane's marker at Winchester Cathedral (austenonly.com)



Detail of the memorial to Sam Wilson (d. 1918) by E. Caldwell Spruce, Lawnswood Cemetery, England (appythegardener.blogspot.com. See, I'm not the only one).

Happy Halloween!

A Vast Prospect

In 1697 Celia Fiennes returned to London on (probably) what is now Shooter's Hill Road and the Old Dover Road. She wrote:

"...Shuttershill, on top of which hill you see a vast prospect ...some lands clothed with trees, others with grass and flowers, gardens, orchards, with all sorts of herbage and tillage, with severall little towns all by the river, Erith, Leigh, Woolwich etc., quite up to London, Greenwich, Deptford, Black Wall, the Thames twisting and turning it self up and down..."

I recently moved to this area and decided to explore a bit. I ended up at the top of this hill quite by accident and while the orchards and tillage have been consumed by urban sprawl, you can indeed still see quite up to London.

Click to biggify

Way back in the hazy background on the left you can see the Shard, and in a larger view you can see the London Eye, the dome of St. Paul's, the Gherkin...pretty incredible. This area was once part of Kent, which is known as the 'garden of England', so just imagine what this view would look like with all those orchards and gardens and gibbets, herbage, &c. It's enough to make one sigh with nostalgia, isn't it?

(Wait, did she just say 'gibbets'?) Oh, yeah. This area was also notorious for being a preferred hangout (pun alert) for highwaymen. Such criminals were hung and left out to dry as a deterrent to others. It evidently worked for Samuel Pepys, who passed this way in April 1661: "Mrs. Anne and I rode under the man that hangs upon Shooter's Hill, and a filthy sight it was to see how his flesh is shrunk to his bones." Rather makes one wonder if that had anything to do with this choice of site for a cemetery. Hmmmm....

The area's name, I feel assured in saying, most certainly had everything to do with the choice of putting the Olympic shooting venue on Woolwich Common just outside the picture frame to the right, since the name Shooter's Hill comes from the Medieval practice of archery that took place here. That was reinforced by the anti-aircraft guns that were situted here during the Second World War. Pretty crafty of those Olympic people, what-what?

Thence I Went: to Broughton Castle

Broughton Castle is a very special stop on my journey to retrace Celia Fiennes's travels because it was - and still is - the home of her family; her grandfather, the first Viscount Saye and Sele, lived here and is buried in the adjoining 14th century church. He was followed by Celia's older half-brother, then her nephew, who each inherited the title and estate. She visited often, undoubtedly more often than the journeys noted in her diary, and compares other country houses to its splendor. One look and it's easy to see why.

Broughton Castle, June 2012

I first visited Broughton back in May with some fellow gardeners who kindly indulged me as I abandoned them to meet Lord and Lady Saye and have a look at the manuscript of Celia's diary. As we drove through Oxfordshire and especially through the village of Banbury, I kept wondering how many times she had ridden through the same streets and lanes? How many of the ancient stone houses and churches would still be familiar to her? Had she seen the fields in spring blazing with rapeseed like we did?

I think Celia would approve of the way the castle has been restored, for even she described it as being "much left to decay and ruine" when her brother inherited. It was first built in 1306 by Sir John de Broughton and sold to William of Wyckham, Bishop of Winchester in 1377. It was a descendant of his, Margaret, who married Sir William Fiennes, second Lord Saye and Sele, and the castle has been in the Fiennes family ever since. The castle has undergone subsequent additions, remodels and renovations, alternately falling into a state of decay then being rescued by following generations. During the Civil War the castle was even occupied by Royalist forces (William Fiennes, Celia's grandfather, was one of the leading activists against the Crown).

Today it is still very much a family home, lived in, cared for, and appreciated by the many visitors who are often greeted by Lord and Lady Saye themselves. And may I say, they are absolutely delightful and were most generous in letting me see the diary on such short notice. Holding the diary, written by Celia herself over 300 years ago, and seeing her handwriting - so tiny and close - is a thrill I will never forget. Books bring an author's personality to life but seeing the original manuscript in her own hand just makes the writer more 'real'. It's awe-inspiring and very humbling to be able to actually touch a piece of history like this.

Me and Celia at the Broughton Gatehouse

I returned in June at Lady Saye's suggestion to see the garden at its peak. The walled Ladies' Garden, which is just over one hundred years old, is as romantic as the castle with roses spilling over archways, double clematis tumbling through borders, the heads of allium nodding in the breeze, and waves of lavender within box fleur-de-lis, all within the honeyed glow of an ancient brick wall.

The Ladies' Garden seen through the south gateway

The enclosed garden is only half an acre but with the borders outside the wall and along the moat, it feels larger. The views from without the wall are spectacular, stretching across the water to the countryside beyond, or bounded by rolling hills grazed by longhorned cattle and sheep, punctuated by huge oaks. A group from a local girls' school was being shown around while I was there and I heard several of the girls exclaim they wanted to be married here. Me, too!

Long border on the west parapet wall

The Ladies' Garden in summer

The best way to see the garden is from the roof. A tour of the house is essential to earn a view like this, and I wasn't going to miss it.

As I toured the rooms, marveling at the 15th century armor, portraits of ancestors and Civil War artifacts, what really struck me was the modern furniture in some of the rooms. This is no museum house sealed in aspic. It and its inhabitants have embraced both past and present and I'm reminded that when it comes to well crafted antique furniture in antique houses, there was a time when it, too, was modern.

Hand crafted oak bed and side table in the King's Room by Robin Furlong c.1992

Part of the upstairs gallery with portraits of the family

 I hope to be able to return to Broughton again and again over the years, to see how it changes and evolves. I always think it must be a daunting thing to keep a house like this going from generation to generation, and I'm sure there are more than a few challenges, but Lord and Lady Saye are justifiably proud of their inheritance and are genuinely keen to share it with others. I am indebted to them for allowing me to spend time with Celia, who I hope to know better and better as time goes on.

Broughton Castle is located about 3 miles from the village of Banbury in Oxfordshire, on the Shipston-on-Stour road from Oxford. If taking public transport from Oxford in the south, you can try the local bus (timetable here) but I'm told these can be unreliable. Trains run regularly from Oxford and a taxi from the station will run about £8 each way. From North Newington public footpaths will take you through the park.

The house and gardens are only open a few days a week in spring and summer, so check the Broughton Castle website for visitor information.