Two of the prettiest villages hereabouts are Ripple and Strensham,
the former on the Severn, the latter on the Avon. At Ripple, in a cosy
corner backed by creeper-grown timber cottages, is the lofty stone
shaft of the cross, and by the steps at the base the stocks and
whipping-post. Strensham is famous as the birthplace of the witty
author of Hudibras. It is a peaceful little place, with a few thatched cottages, a fine old church near the winding river, embosomed in
trees. The church is remarkable for its fine rood-loft with painted
panels of saints, which at some time has been made into a gallery at
the west end, and we hope may be replaced one of these days.
Following the river Avon to Evesham and Stratford-on-Avon, there
are many charming old-world villages rich in timber and thatched
cottages. Such a village is Offenham above Evesham. The village
street leads nowhere, and at the end of it stands a tapering Maypole,
as much as to say, "Go on with your modern improvement elsewhere
if you like, but here I intend to stay"; and w
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e believe it is duly decorated and danced around in the proper
fashion, though the inhabitants by the "new style" of the calendar can
scarcely dispense with overcoats. We will not follow the course of the
river so far as "drunken Bidford" (where the immortal bard and some
convivial friends are said to have been overcome by the effects of the
strong ale at the "Falcon"), but turn our steps southwards to Broadway, which of recent years has had an invasion from America.
But the great broad street of substantial Tudor and Jacobean houses
deserves all the praise that has been lavished upon it. We were there
before it had particularly attracted Jonathan's eye, and after a
fortnight's fare of bread and cheese and eggs and bacon (the usual
fare of a walking tour), we alighted upon a princely pigeon pie at the
"Lygon Arms." Under such circumstances one naturally grows
enthusiastic; but even if the fine old hostelry had offered as cold a reception as that at Stilton, we could not but help feeling kindly
disposed towards so stately a roadside inn. Like the "Bell" at Stilton, it is stone-built, with mullioned windows and pointed gables; but here
there is a fine carved doorway, which gives it an air of grandeur.
There are roomy corridors within, leading by stout oak doors to
roomier apartments, some oak panelled, and others with moulded
ceilings and carved stone fireplaces. One of these is known as
"Cromwell's room," and one ought to be called "Charles' room" also, for during the Civil W
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ars the martyr king slept there on more than one occasion. The wide
oak staircase with its deep set window on the first landing, reminds
one of the staircase leading out of the great hall of Haddon. There is
a little wicket gate to keep the dogs below. Farther up the village
street stands Tudor House, which with its ball-surmounted gable ends
and bay-window with heraldic shields above, bears a cloak-and-rapier
look about it; but it was built, according to the date upon it, when the
old Cavalier was poor and soured, and had sheathed his sword, but
nevertheless was counting the months when the king should come to
his own again. The house was empty, and presumably had been shut
up for years. Referring to some notes, we find the following
memoranda by the friend who was with us upon the occasion of our
visit. "We could obtain no information as to the ownership, or still more important, the holder of the keys. One old man, who might have
remembered it being built but was slightly hazy on the subject, said
no one ever went inside. Other inquiries in the village led only to
intense astonishment at our desire. And the whole concluded in a
large contingent of the inhabitants standing speechless, marvelling
before the house itself; in which position we left them and it."
The old church of Edward IV.'s time is now, or was, deserted in
favour of an early-Victorian one much out of keeping with the village,
or rather town that it once was.
Another decayed town, once of more importance still, is Chipping
Campden, four miles to the north-east of Broadway, in a corner of
Gloucestershire. Here again we have the great wide street wit
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h a profusion of grey stone gables on either side, and projecting inn
signs, and sundials in profusion. At one extremity a noble elm tree
and at the other a huge chestnut, stand like sentinels over the ancient
buildings that they may not share the fate of the neighbouring manor-
house, which was burned down by its loyal owner, the third Viscount
Campden, during the Civil War, to save it from the ignoble fate of
being seized and garrisoned for the Parliamentarians. From the
imposing entrance gate and two remaining curious pavilions at either
end of a long terrace, one may judge it must have been a fine early-
Jacobean mansion. Strange that Campden House, their ancient town
residence, should have perished in the flames also, but over two
centuries afterwards. Near the entrance gate are the almshouses, a
very picturesque line of pointed gables and lofty chimneys. Above
them rises the graceful early-Perpendicular church tower, which in
design and proportions is worthy of a cathedral. But the quaint
Jacobean pillared market-house, the Court-house with its handsome
panelled buttresses, and a house of the time of Richard III. with two-
storied bay-window, and an ancient hall, are among the most
interesting buildings in the town. One of the many sign-boards
displays a poetic effusion by a Campden chimney-sweep, a
modernised version of the original which ran as follows:
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"John Hunter Campden doe live here, Sweeps chimbleys clean and
not too deare. And if your chimbley be a-fire, He'll put it out if you desire."
The "Red Lion" is a typical hostelry of the Stuart days, and a contemporary house opposite, bearing the date 1656, is well worth
notice: the "Green Dragon" also, dated 1690.
The interior of the church is disappointing; its new benches, windows,
roof, and chancel giving it a modern look; but there are some fine old
monuments to the ancient lords of the manor, especially that of the
first Viscount Campden and his countess, and there are some fine
fifteenth-century brasses in the chancel.