Today, we took a circular drive stopping at whatever took our fancy enroute. Our first port of call was a tiny place called Scagglethorpe, not for any particular reason other than we all loved the sound of its name. And here we found a rather ancient looking inn, which, it turns out, is not ancient at all, and in fact did not start life as an inn, but as one of the earliest farm shops in the area. Folk used to bring their excess produce and sell it here from around 1907. Farm shops have boomed around this area in Yorkshire. We visit one most days, but today we took a photograph as this one changed over time and took its name from what it sold in its early days at market, Ham and Cheese.
Further on, we found a park in the old marketplace in a thriving little place called Malton, which regularly scores highly on the 'best place to live in all of Britain' lists, and on a blinding beautiful day like today we could see why. Everyone was out and about, and chatty, and we learned heaps. Early Malton held a fort for a garrison of Romans who guarded the area for the empire from the northern banks of the river. A village probably servicing the fort grew up around it on the south side of the river. We visited the remnants of the fort site at lunchtime and picnicked at a table in the sun on their grounds all bumpy and lumpy with earth work and ruins covered with grass where they once worked at mining jet among their other chores. That is all gone now, but the fort site is part of a vast estate, that today owns much of Malton.
In Norman times, a castle estate evolved where the garrison's fort had been, fit for a king, and widely lauded as being as beautiful as any, and indeed Richard the Lionheart called with his entourage in 1189, as did other important dignitaries of the times, until, over the following centuries, the amazing castle fell into ruins such that, by 1674, on the death of their father, two sister who had inherited, Mary and Margaret Eure, quarrelled over what should happen to the estate. The judge at the time was the Sheriff. He ordered the castle demolished and split the rubble and rocks between the two sisters. Which may even be the origin of where the phrase 'a pile in the country' originates. As a result, many of today's delightful buildings around Malton old town likely have stone from the castle ruins holding up their walls.
Charles Dickens regularly visited his lifelong friend, Charles Smithson, here, a lawyer he knew from London. And it was here during one foggy cold Christmas visit that Dickens hashed out the finer details of his classic, A Christmas Carol, with Old Scrooge and Bob Cratchit and the single chunk of black coal set in the fire grate. Tiny little lanes in Malton, opposite the Shambles, are still like something out of that Dickens' tale: all dark and crooked and gloomy and glowering, and even today carry the atmosphere of that time.
Malton is still split in two, though most locals likely do not realise it. It is controlled by two distinct companies, albeit both using the name Fitzwilliam somewhere in their business name. One looks after property and agriculture to the north of town, the other owns much of the commercial and residential property in town. Being split seems part of Malton's destiny.
Next we called into the hamlet of Barton-Le-Street, attracted, again, by the name of the village. Only to discover that folk in this settlement, or ton, once sold barley or bere, hence the term bar-ton. Around here, that would not be unusual even today as this is such a grain producing area. The Le Street comes thanks to the Romans as it refers to the Roman road built along here between Roman holdings and garrisons. While the name drew us to the village, the church kept us here for ages. What came as a complete surprise to us is that it is filled with priceless Romanesque corbels and exquisitely carved stone from the days the Roman soldiers would fly past on their chariots and call in to make a quick visit.
The church of that time has long gone, but many chunks of it still remain. Stones have been relaid and re-sited over the centuries, but the detail of the work here is second to none. We have never seen the likes in any other church of this age in England, so we think it quite special. Every wall has some Romanesque feature on it that is still visible even now. Including some of the arches and the capitals with their ornate decoration. Oddly, it is accidental that most of this work survived as each time a renovation took place those in charge thought this stone work so special that it must have come from a larger, more famous, religious establishment and been reused here. So, they were loathe to turn it to rubble. But that theory proved not to be the case: the stones remain where they always were, and long may they stay, as they are beautiful.
Slingsby Castle was our next stop though it is all precarious rock and fragile clinging vine now, and looks nothing like a castle. It is a genuine gloomy ruin. Like many holdings around these parts where there was a wee hill a castle was soon constructed and another lord held another piece of land whereupon a whole swag of locals eventually touted their wares at the walls and gates and that soon grew a village, expanding beyond the castle walls. It is a long time, though, since there was an actual castle in Slingsby. Over the decades since the earliest one many have been raised but then have crumbled here. Though this ruin is not actually a castle ruin, but the work of the Cavendish clan who came to own this land some four or five hundred years back. They set out to build a home for themselves, though it was more a mansion than a typical castle, but it was never finished, so became a ruin quickly. So, more a ruin of a ruin than anything. And not a good financial decision at the time for the Cavendish family.
That may have been around the time that the Slingsby Maypole became a subject of dispute between the villagers who were Quakers and the villagers who were not. There was evidently "a great dordum of a fight' over upcoming Maypole festivities way back in early 1708. Maypole dancing has been traced to prehistoric worship times when trees were considered spirits and the pole dance was a type of pagan spirit worship, although somewhere it lost that relevance and simply became a decorative dance of pretty colourful woven strands of ribbon.
Today, Slingsby village still has a Maypole erected on the village green. You don't see many these days, but this one looks well loved and cared for. You don't see many merchants with food baskets delivering their wares either, but we happened upon a merchant from elsewhere who was doing exactly that. A lovely service reminiscent of days long past. And he looked perfect for the part.
Hovingham, like so many of the villages around here is centred around a vast estate. This one has been owned by the Worsley family for nearly 500 years. The Duchess of Kent, Katherine Worsley, grew up and was happy here. The family still owns and runs much of the surrounding estate. The village stone is golden, the church is Saxon in origin, the village, like Malton, and many of the others along this stretch, is a spring settlement, where spring water oozes from the earth when it hits a layer of impenetrable rock. Where these springs were discovered in the early days settlements tended to form. Hovingham's pretty village drops gently to a ford, rushing with water today from a small streamlet topped with pretty arched bridges running down one side of the village. It all looks green, lush and prosperous.
Our last walkaround for the day was at Helmsley, which we have passed through a couple of times enroute to other places so had not been able to stop for long then. Today we had time. Helmsley is a a good sized market town; another still influenced by the estate which owned the castle and grounds here. Way back, that was all part of the estate that William, the Conqueror, granted to his half brother, and whatever happened then at Rievaulx Abbey nearby affected these surrounding towns both before and after the Dissolution of the Monasteries.
Helmsley Castle stayed with the descendants of that family until it was sold in 1689, to Charles Duncombe who worked for a noted London goldsmith and bought the estate as his 'country pile'. Subsequently, Charles established vital business connections, and with a little insider trading in his favour, was able to safely withdraw his personal cash before further payments from Treasury were cancelled at the time. His boss was not so lucky and lost his shop. Charles Dunscombe took it over. Today that London shop wears a distinctive gold grasshopper signifying its position and wares. Dunscombe, like many London goldsmiths, became a banker, lending money, even to English kings fleeing the country, albeit at high rates of interest. He did what it took to become rich and famous. He became an MP, and for a time Mayor of London. He was imprisoned once for tax fraud, but as often happens with the wealthy, was released on a technicality soon after, and granted a title not a year later. He was one of the big movers and shakers around London in his time and when he died he was reputed to be the wealthiest commoner in all of England.
His relatives and descendants hold Duncombe Park, at Helmsley, today, though for a time last century the main building operated as a girl's boarding school. The family has taken it on again with the death of the late lord. Who is not the first born son, as he was disinherited given his lifestyle in Fulham London, where he has been jailed in recent times for criminal activity related to cocaine addiction, and for being a 'porn baron', distributing pornographic movies and installing them in vending machines in pubs. His father did not approve.
Helmsley still wears signs of its Medieval roots in its warren of higgledy piggledy market stalls in the centre of town. It was thick with tourists today, wandering through its delicatessens, book stores, and unique market stalls. Yorkshire fare is everywhere.
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