The building in which I dwell was erected in 1812, or so
my late Landlord told me. Life then
before Victoria came to the throne was I suppose quite different. Whether the occupants worried over much about
that nice Napoleon chap who was spending the year in Russia, a place that
rejected him in similar manner to many others taking also the lives of many
thousands of his soldiers, I do not know but they were probably more concerned
with the goings on at the ‘Big House’ behind or the many farms in the
locale. I suspect the educated women
were more concerned with the likes of Jane Austen’s ‘Sense and Sensibility.’ There
being no census at the time it is difficult to work out exactly who resided
here or how they made their name. The
building indicates some degree of wealth.
Comprised of two dwellings one house would be a quite
small but for the day more than acceptable. The smaller would have three rooms upstairs,
the larger possibly four. Modern
amendments to the layout make it difficult to understand the original, the rear
section being knocked down and rebuilt slightly amended from first. Questions arise that I cannot answer, most
irksome. Before the car park they could
at least get the gardener to grow veg in the rear of the house and possibly
kept a horse in a nearby stable.
Had they been the types interested in the world around
them I suppose they would have purchased some sort of newspaper or rely on common
gossip, and there would be plenty of the latter around. The years happenings
would not escape, news travels fast, bad news travels faster. For a start there were ‘Luddite’ risings in
various parts of the country, something they no doubt hoped would be kept ‘up
north’ where such behaviour belonged, there was also Lord Byron, home from
Naxos to upset married men everywhere objecting to a Bill demanding the death
penalty for Frame Breaking at the same time publishing a book, ‘Childe
Harold.’ ‘Childe’ as you know being a
medieval title of a young candidate for knighthood. Having travelled across Europe, missing out
the bits that were at war Byron says too much about himself in the poem. Young men sick of the many years wars seeking
some adventure in their lives, young men from wealthy backgrounds that is with
nobility thrust upon them of course. Most
men wold be lumbered where they were at the time. Byron of course found distractions, mostly
female, and a purpose in fighting a war for Greece, not bad for someone
avoiding war.
Farm types would have heard about the meat cannery that
had opened in Bermondsey and questions would have been asked concerning whether
this was a good idea or not. The use of
hammer and chisel to open such cans would imply a negative approach at first I
suspect.
While few would have heard or cared about the birth of
Charles Dickens and Edward Lear that year the women of the house would
certainly have heard about and been willing to participate in the new dance
that swept Europe, the Waltz. Even Byron
mentioned this.
One event that could not escape notice was the shooting
of the Prime Minister Spencer Perceval during May that year by one John Bellingham. Bellingham had been working in Russia and
fallen foul of intrigue and spent several years in prison before being allowed
to return home. His feeling was he had
a justified grievance and wished for compensation from the government, something
the government was not willing to give.
Having been advised by one civil servant to “Take whatever action you
think right” Bellingham obtained a pistol and was noted often hanging around
the Lobby of the House. At 5:15 on the
11th May as Perceval was making his way to a committee Bellingham
stepped forward and shot him dead, the only British Prime Minister ever to have
been murdered. The deed done he sat down
and awaited his fate. At his trial an
attempt was made to prove he was insane but the judge disagreed and three days
later Bellingham was hanged, he had however for various reasons some degree of
public sympathy.
Whether there were arguments for and against the shooting
of a prime minister in these houses is unknown but as they trimmed the wick in
the oil lamps and huddled under several blankets in a vain attempt to keep out
the northern winds hammering against the windows such events must have caused a
reaction. Such things did not occur
along this road however the highway to the north did have a gallows at one
point where offenders were left hanging about for considerable time, as a
warning to others.
I am not sure this worked.
Outside the view over fields would be acceptable, a cow
or two roaming there, slow moving traffic on the dirt road, few houses further
down leading out of town but as this was the main road to Colchester it may
have seen many a traveller pass by let alone the workers heading to and from
the fields.
The road had indeed been a busy one for many a year. This road was aged by the time the Romans
decided to harden it, thus giving it the name ‘Stane Street,’ and enabling
their well armed troops to pass on their journey elsewhere quickly. ‘Quickly’ is not the best word as it is
around fifteen miles to Colchester and that was around a day’s march for a man
carrying his equipment over his shoulder.
Resting here for the night they would continue West for a day before the
next stop at Dunmow a further fifteen miles away. Long before this traders as well as armies
had passed by this area. The Trinovantes
reached over this area even though their capital was in what is now
Hertfordshire when Julius Caesar popped in.
Trouble brewed with those to the west and it was Julius who convinced
the Catuvellauni to cease attempting to take over the area and remain back home
towards Swindon, their home area, this they did but once he retired to Gaul
they returned and became lords of the district.
The road was old even then with people having moved around long before
the North Sea came into being so possibly ten thousand years have elapsed since
this trail changed to a muddy track that soon turned into a major road for the
Romans to harden.
An archaeology dig in the centre of town has revealed the
road layout from the past with a large centre at the junction of roads from
east to west and north to south existing for considerable time. During the
creation of a town centre shopping precinct many Roman and Iron Age artefacts
were discovered alongside an idea of the homes used by the locals. Edinburgh, that huge, magnificent and
important city has been a powerhouse for over a thousand years yet this wee
market town has been around longer, a lot longer. The meeting place would provide accommodation
and respite and in 1108 the Market Charter developed the town
economically. I bet the shops were
better then than now.
As I speak cars pass by mostly ignorant of those who have
preceded them on this road. Do people care
these days as to who came before them?
Some find History dull but we need to know who came before us to ensure
we understand just exactly who we are.
Sadly this upsets our chosen outlook on life all too often and we reject
what we see. Myth is better than
fact. I cannot travel this road without
considering the many feet that have trodden before me. Something I never did in Edinburgh but some
time ago I realised we lived on an aged drovers road, a road many had driven
their cattle or sheep along for eons before us.
When children we discovered a cave made from a small rocky outcrop that
many years before had become a drovers bothy.
There was a clear door and indeed a window therein so possibly this had
also been home to someone, a shepherd possibly, one not from afar off but based
here, the local castle still has sheep on its land after all. However as kids naturally we called it ‘The
Witches House.’ It may well be hidden
amongst trees surround the new well to do housing in that area today. Whether witches reside there I do not care to
know.
The truth is that following any major and many minor
roads in the UK we walk in the footsteps of many who have gone before us. Thousands of years of life, in spite of ice
ages, have left their mark. Almost all main roads and many faintly visible
today go back millenia.
