Museum Piece

Wisbech has a grand little museum which is well worth a visit. 
So lets visit!

In its day it was at the cutting-edge of museum innovation, being housed in purpose-built premises. But, like much of the town, its day was a while ago and the rest of the world has moved on without it.

You won't find any touch-screens or interactive displays in here. They just collect the items, put them in a case with a little label and leave the rest to your imagination. Hurray!

It's all in here somewhere! Stuffed specimens of local wildlife, fine porcelain, items dug up during the drainage of the fens, fossils, manuscripts, items crafted in far-off lands, stock from a village shop, woodworking tools, old army uniforms, crystal rock formations, coins from previous centuries, Victorian samplers, odd bits of furniture, agricultural tools, a Burmese buddha, mantraps, old photographs, Napoleon's breakfast service....

See? You thought I was making that one up. But here it is, apparently captured at the battle of Waterloo. 
"What did you do in the war, Daddy?" 
"Oh, I captured an enemy breakfast service!"

Very nice it looked though. And what's this.....?

Bird's Instant Whip! I used to like that when I was a lad. And Chivers jellies, made just a few miles away in Histon.

 There's a bust of Thomas Clarkson of course, the anti-slavery campaigner.

And the museum is rightly proud of having in its possession the original manuscript of "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens. Though somehow I keep thinking about Mel Brookes' comment about Shakespeare - “A great writer? He was a dreadful writer. Every letter was cockeyed. He had the worst penmanship I ever saw in my life!"

Ah! The door from Wisbech jail - I couldn't get by without seeing that!

But seriously there's so much crammed in here in such a small space that I could happily spend a rainy day in here. But, hey, the sun is shining and it's one o'clock. That means that Peckover House and gardens are now open. I'll show you next time....

Take care.

About Wisbech

The first thing you need to know about Wisbech is how to say it. Some people will tell you that the local pronunciation is Wiz-betch, Wiz-bidge or even Wiz-beck but my own survey (conducted by sitting at the front of the bus and listening to passengers asking for their tickets) confirms that it's Wiz-beach. Heaven knows why it lost that letter "a".

Wisbech has a castle - it doesn't look anything like a castle (that's it above) but that's what they call it. It's built on the site of the old Norman castle which was probably constructed by William I to try to control the troublesome inhabitants of the Fens, but today of course it's just a town house.

Near to "The Castle" is this magnificent Georgian crescent, in fact it nearly encircles the castle as it follows the line of its old defences. You can see the beautiful proportions of the buildings and the regular rhythm of the window placement. In fact the window position pays little regard for the internal function of the rooms and some are actually blank windows, just painted on for effect.

Top-left and bottom-right aren't really windows at all!

There's a rather fine church in the centre of town, SS Peter & Paul, with an award winning garden where you'd normally expect to find a graveyard. In the sixteenth century the old tower fell down and, unsurprisingly, caused a lot of damage. When they rebuilt the tower it was built as a separate structure - an unusual but not unique arrangement.

It has a clock on three of its four sides; the people of Walsoken, to the east of the town, refused to contribute to the building so the eastern wall is left blank! 

Inside it's a most peculiar shape as there are two naves placed side-by-side and two chancels arranged similarly. Together with the aisles on either side it makes for an extremely broad expanse of pews. The reason for this plan was the sudden huge growth of the town - and consequently the congregations - beginning during the Georgian period.

The River Nene allowed Wisbech's rapid growth as a port during the years following the draining of the Fens; all this new agricultural land was suddenly very productive and Wisbech was ideally placed to exploit it. Wisbech was Britain's boom town and many fine buildings can still be seen in the town, particularly right alongside the river, on the North and South Brinks - the merchants liked to keep a very close eye on their businesses.

If any of this looks familiar you may have seen it in any number of films and TV programmes, especially adaptations of Dickens's novels. One of the finest houses, Peckover House, is open to the public and I'll show you that by and by. And on the other bank of the river stands the Octavia Hill Birthplace Museum...

...surprisingly this is not a National Trust property; surprising because she was instrumental in setting up that organisation. And in the background you can see the Clarkson memorial which I showed you in my previous post. It's amazing how many reformers and original thinkers lived in Wisbech during it's boom years. Some of the trade was with the Baltic nations; nowadays many from those lands are coming to live here, tempted by the need for seasonal and agency work.

I've still got a few more things to show you of this little jewel of a town. In the meantime here's a little Wisbech story for you:

Many years ago there was a man in the town who rather liked a bet and would do anything for a wager. One evening in the pub some fellow drinkers challenged him to go over the church wall at midnight and bring back a skull from the boneyard which was situated there. "Yes, I'll do that" he said unsuspectingly.
As the bell tolled midnight he entered the churchyard and went to grab a skull. Just as he was doing so a voice from the shadows said, "Hey, that's mine!" He quickly threw down the skull and chose another. The voice was heard again "Hey, that's mine!" "That's a damned lie," said the man, "you can't have two!" And with that he jumped back over the wall and won the bet.

Take care.

"All Made Up Of Wonders"

"All made up of wonders" is how the world was described by Olaudah Equiano in a book published in 1789. The book was widely read in its day despite the snappy title of "The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African, written by himself" . It describes his life as a boy in Africa, his kidnapping, transportation to the West Indies, where he was sold as a slave, then on to North America and England. As a slave he experiences terrible treatment and occasional kindness, but it is not the kindness which prompts the "all made up of wonders" description, the wonders are things like watches, paintings and books which fascinate his young mind. In time he manages to learn English, gain some sort of education and converts to Christianity.

The picture above is a waxwork of Olaudah Equiano which is to be found in the Museum of Wisbech, Cambridgeshire. What's he doing in there?

Well, Wisbech just happens to be the birthplace of one Thomas Clarkson and this fine monument to him stand near the market. (If you think it looks a bit familiar it's by Sir George Gilbert Scott who also designed the Albert Memorial in London and was not above re-cycling some of his design ideas).

Clarkson was a man with a single idea which he pursued relentlessly throughout his life. That idea was the abolition of slavery. He is depicted above with a symbolic set of manacles. Also depicted on the memorial are....

...William Wilberforce, MP for Hull, who helped push the anti-slavery legislation through parliament. Wilberforce was educated at Cambridge University where he combined his learning with gambling, drinking and socialising. In terms of his eventual success in banning slavery the hedonism may have been more important than his studies as through these late-night sessions he became great friends with future Prime Minister, William Pitt and other influential individuals.

Also depicted is....

Granville Sharp. Sharp came from a family of eminent churchmen but was mainly self-educated, teaching himself the Greek and Hebrew languages and English Law. He was a great fighter for the rights of the underdog.

And there's also a depiction of a kneeling slave...

.....wearing chains.

The manacles which Clarkson is holding are not merely symbolic; he collected manacles, whips and thumbscrews to illustrate his talks. These were kept in a small chest which can also be seen in Wisbech Museum....

.....as you can see it also contained other craft goods with which he hoped to prove that it would be better to trade with Africa. But still there was an enduring belief that Africans could not be educated. Olaudah Equiano's narrative did much to dispel this notion as well as being a first-hand account of the realities of slavery. (If you want to read the book it's still in print, or, if you've got a Kindle, you can download it for the princely sum of £0.00)

Yes, but apart from reading the book, what's got old John thinking about the abolition of slavery? 

This is St Andrew's Church in the Cambridge suburb of Chesterton. I went there to see some medieval wall painting.

But while there I also had a look around the outside of the building and spotted this plaque:

To save your eyes it says this...

Near this place lies interred

Anna Maria Vassa

Daughter of Gustavus Vassa the African

She died July 21 1797 aged 4 Years

"Should simple village rhymes attract thine eye,

stranger, as thoughtfully thou passest by,

know that there lies beside this humble stone

A child of colour haply not thine own.

Her father born of Africa’s sunburnt race

Torn from his native fields: Ah! Foul disgrace.

Through various toils, at length to Britain came,

Espoused, so heaven ordained, an English Dame

and followed Christ; Their hope two infants dear,

But one, a hapless orphan slumbers here.

To bury her, the village children came,

And dropped choice flowers, and lisped her early fame,

And some that loved her most as if unblest,

Bedewed with tears the white wreaths on their breast

But she is gone and dwells in that abode

Where some of every clime shall joy in God”

Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa as he was known in England, went on to marry an Englishwoman, Susanna Cullen, from Soham in Cambridgeshire. They had two daughters, Anna Maria and Joanna, but both parents died and the children were cared for in Chesterton. Anna Maria died shortly afterwards in a measles epidemic. On the Sunday nearest the anniversary of her death local children still lay a wreath of white flowers in her memory. 

Take care.

I Like To Bike

Take care.

One Man's Meadows

Just upriver, a little way out of town, the grass grows thick on the sloping ground. Cows graze and the thistledown blows. Boys come with fishing hooks and nets to catch minnows in the shallows.

A year or two later perhaps, those boys find an old boat riddled with holes, paint the old punt and patch it with pitch, then learn to handle both paddle and pole. River boys in the summer.

In the slanting evenings they pass the cider down the length of the boat. Singing bawdy shanties and reeling home on rusty bicycles.

Then there are girls, guitars and poetry. Rupert Brooke rubs shoulders with Roger Waters out here on Grantchester Meadows. The ghosts of Lord Byron and Virginia Woolf still swim naked beneath the willows, while downstream the townspeople remember the doings of Augustus John and party.

Sharing the wine and staring at the moon. Thinking of astrology and astronauts. Lingering long in the kissing gates.

Wandering in winter, carrying a camera. The river rises and the river falls.

Friends leave and friends return. Farmers and zoologists, musicians and mothers, and just like the words of a Bob Dylan song, "Some are mathematicians, some are carpenters' wives". Ginger-haired toddlers are led by the hand and lifted over the stiles. Picnics on Long Meadow.

The hay is cut, the cows come in for milking. In the late afternoon laughing youngsters in wheelchairs come bumping down to the riverside, watching the boats to see if anyone falls in. 

An old man stands at the brow of the slope looking down at it all. Like everybody else he's only there for a while then he passes on. Memories are safely stored in the trees along by the river.

Take care.

  

Speed The Plough

It's harvest time of course but, like the agricultural year, I'm always a bit mixed up these days. So here's a post that would have probably been better to arrive in January. It starts off with this remarkable object spied in the Farmland Museum at Denny Abbey.....

....in case you don't recognise it, it's a plough. Not just any old plough but a very old plough indeed. Its design means that we can date it to before 1730. Before it took up residence in the museum it made its home in Bassingbourn church.
A plough in a church? Yes, that's what I said - in this church.....

I've always liked Bassingbourn church, mainly for its bright red clock, you don't see many of them. But that's not answering the question of how come there was a plough in church. Nobody really knows but I suppose in past times there would always have been a connection between agriculture and religion - it makes sense to pray for good weather in this country! On a Sunday at the beginning of January each year, the start of the agricultural year, the plough would be blessed in a special church service. The day was known as Plough Sunday - and the day after was, naturally enough, Plough Monday. 

Now those of you with long memories will remember my visit to Whittlesea to the Straw Bear Festival back in January (This post and the four following it). The festival keeps alive the antics of our ploughboy forebears who on the Monday following Plough Sunday took to the streets and either danced or acted out rough little plays to entertain and beg for money. They took the plough with them and, if money was not forthcoming from the wealthy of the town, they'd plough up the path leading to the house.

  
The tradition varied from one village to another. In Norfolk Plough Sunday is remembered in a rhyme found in Cawston church

God spede the plow

And send us all corne enow

Our purpose for to mak

At crow of cok

Of the plwlete of Sygate

Be mery and glade

Wat Goodale this work made

You've got that, haven't you? 

Now in 1799 a violinist called John Moorehead composed a tune which he called "The Naval Pillar" which was then used in a play entitiled "Speed The Plough". Under that title his tune spread across the western world like wildfire. For those who like to argue about the country of origin of tunes it is interesting to note that Moorehead was born in Scotland, emigrated to Ireland and then worked in England. Make your own mind up!

Meanwhile here is a nice video I found on You Tube of the tune being played in The Ship Inn at Blaxhall in Suffolk (which I hope the original videoist won't mind me including here).

Shame there's not more pubs like that!

I've just done a bit more research, prompted by a question from Nilly Hall via a comment. Plw is just an old spelling for plough, while lete might be a lane. Plwlete is indeed said to be the name of a lane in Sygate. However a plowLIGHT was also a lamp which was kept burning in front of images in early churches, this lamp being paid for by the ploughmen of the parish. The origin of Plow Monday celebrations was to raise money for the maintenance of the lamp. Although the plowlights disappeared after the Reformation money was still raised for various good causes and was called Plowlight Money. The poem I quoted is to be found on a beam of the gallery in Cawston church and suggests that the construction was paid for with money raised in this way. So plwlete might have a double meaning - a kind of joke which was popular at that time. Wat Goodale is written as though it's the name of the builder but could also be read as 'what good ale', another pun of the same sort. 

Take care.