Nicola here. I was woken in the night by the sound of a downpour of rain, which was very welcome as the UK has been enduring a summer of drought. One of the consequences of this is that river and lake levels have fallen dramatically over the past few months and fields and gardens have dried out. This has led to ancient buildings and structures being revealed that have been lost for centuries, giving us a glimpse into the past that we wouldn’t usually have. It's not the way you would choose to discover more about history but it is an opportunity to learn more about what lies beneath our feet - or in some cases, rivers and reservoirs.
At Lydiard Park where I am a trustee of the Friends charity, we arranged for some drone photography to see if we could see any detail of the seventeenth century gardens that we knew had been swept away when the grounds were landscaped by Capability Brown in the Georgian era. (Photo credit Phil Jefferies and copyright Friends of Lydiard Park). The results were even more exciting than we had imagined! We knew from early maps that the previous Elizabethan-style manor house had had extensive gardens leading down to a canal and lake. From the air these were clearly visible in a grid pattern that would originally have contained a gravel forecourt, formal flowerbeds, topiary, paths and terraces. It’s been a fascinating insight. A similar thing happened at Chatsworth where the drought revealed the outline of the Great Parterre which was designed in 1699.
There’s something about “lost” things whether they are villages, landscapes or other buildings that really appeals to me. Perhaps it’s the secrets you imagine they might be hiding, that will be revealed when thy come back into the light. Or perhaps it’s that all of these places has a story to tell; they’ve been lost and now we get an unexpected and tantalising glimpse into the past.
The British Isles are rich in lost villages and landscapes. When I was a child in Yorkshire, I was fascinated by the story of Semerwater, about which a poem had been written that began:
Deep asleep, deep asleep,
Deep asleep it lies,
The still lake of Semerwater
Under the still skies.
And many a fathom, many a fathom,
Many a fathom below,
In a king's tower and a queen's bower
The fishes come and go.
(The picture above, copyright The Tate, shows a painting of Semer Water by Turner.) This painting and the evocative rhyme enough to completely entrance my child’s imagination, especially the reference to the Queen’s bower. Who was she – and why had her bower been drowned? When I looked into the story it turned out that there was a legend of an angel who had visited the city at Semer Water a thousand years ago, disguised as a poor beggar. When no one would give him food and shelter he cursed the city, all but the house of one poor couple who had taken him in. As a consequence the waters rose and the city was lost.
It's a great story but there is no evidence to suggest that there is a lost city beneath the lake. However there are plenty of drowned villages about the country, including Derwent and Ashopton that were lost in 1945 when Ladybower Reservoir was created in Derbyshire. In Rutland, Nether Hambleton was demolished to make way for Rutland Water. There are examples all over the British Isles and some are revealing their secrets now that water levels are so low.
Villages have been lost for lots of other reasons too. Dunwich in Suffolk disappeared into the sea in the 13th century. It’s said that you can still hear the church bells
pealing beneath the water. Imber in Wiltshire and Tyneham in Dorset were commandeered during the Second World War for target practice and manoeuvres. And centuries ago, of course, as many as 3000 villages were lost during the Black Death.
If we look at the Georgian and Regency period, there did seem to be a penchant for noblemen sweeping aside old villages in order to improve the look of their country estates. At Wimpole Hall, the 2nd Earl of Harwicke commissioned Capability Brown to redesign his parkland to improve the views from the mansion in 1767. Sadly this involved sweeping aside various small villages! In Yorkshire the village of Henderskelfe was destroyed in 1699 to enable the building of Castle Howard and its grounds. In some cases, landowners built new villages for their displaced tenants – but some didn’t, merely tossing them out of their homes.
In 1780, Joseph Damer, Lord Milton, decided that the market town of Middleton, adjacent to his home at Milton Abbey, was spoiling his rural peace and quiet. Her commissioned an architect called William Chambers plus the ubiquitous Capability Brown to design a new village, Milton Abbas, in a wooded valley away from the Abbey.
Most of the townspeople were relocated there and Middleton was demolished and the site landscaped. Thirty six identical thatched cottages were built with the intention of each housing 2 families. Each house was fronted with a lawn and planted with a horse chestnut tree. No doubt Lord Milton felt he was being very generous and perhaps plenty of people were grateful for a new house. To us these days, however, does it feel like generosity or breathtaking arrogance? There is no doubt, however, that it is a great plot idea for a book!
Do lost settlements capture your imagination? Have you read any good books that draw on this idea for their story? Both Kath McGurl (The Drowned Village) and Lorna Cook (The Forgotten Village) have written great books inspired by places that have been lost and I’m sure there are many more.