Monday 27 August 2012

For Dad: the last ever license to crenellate.

Back in t’day, before we had electricity or the wheel or shoes or modern medicine, I was in school studying for my GCSEs. I got off to a great start in my (somewhat stalled) dream of being a celebrity historian and did fantastically in History. I did ok in everything else (except Technology, but let’s not talk about that), but History was the one I really cared about.
The main part of the coursework element (I love coursework!) was a study of castles (I love castles!). I think it was only meant to be about 1000 words long but mine ended up being a small book, dedicated to all things historically nerdy. It was great. While I was putting together this beautiful piece of academia, my dad mentioned that he’d once been asked when the last license to crenellate had been granted and I was stumped. I decided to challenge myself to find out the answer.
Crenellations are the fun uppy downy bits on the top of a parapet wall. In the medieval period if you wanted to defend your abode, you needed a license to crenellate from either the King (or if you lived in the mid to late 12th Century and weren’t massively fond of King Stephen, from the Empress Matilda), or the Bishops of Durham, the Earls of Chester, or the Dukes of Lancaster.
Theoretically the power to grant licenses to crenellate ensured that the King (and the other magnates mentioned above) could control who had strong castles and would mean that enemies of the crown would be at a significant disadvantage if they wanted to partake in nefarious shenanigans against the crown. The license could also have been a sneaky way for the crown to get some extra money in. However, it never really quite worked like that. I’m not aware of any license requests that were refused (but I’d love to hear from anyone who knows of any) and in times of peace crenellations were more of a decorative status symbol to make your manor house look more impressive than your neighbours’.
(Carlisle Castle has some pretty good crenellations. They weren’t just for decoration – for centuries the castle changed hands between England and Scotland like it was going out of style)

Over the years, I have regularly forgotten the challenge I set myself. But it pops up every so often, like during the days spent pouring over twelfth century grants and charters at university and when I’m touristing it up around old castles. It wasn’t until a discussion at work when I was trying to explain the fun and games of the reign of Stephen to my colleagues that I remembered that I really should find the answer.
So...
Utilising the powers of the interwebs, I have found out the answer. So for Dad, about a decade late, I can officially let you know that the definitive answer to the age-old question of “when was the last license to crenellate granted?” is...

Probably Eastwell Manor in Kent. Or Millom Castle in Cumbria. But we can’t really be sure.


Eastwell was granted a license to crenellate on June 5th 1589 to Sir Moile Finche – a member of parliament and Baronet of Eastwell from 1611.
Millom Castle is an interesting oddity. The current list of surviving licenses is by no means complete or accurate. The earliest document comes from 1141 and pertains to earlier licenses of which we have no record. A great deal of later licenses also do not seem to exist in physical form any more and their existences is only noted as references in other documents. This was the case with the Millom license (March 10th 1622 to Ferdinand Huddleston) and has since been rejected by historians.
Its a shame though. I kind of feel like it would be nice if Millom was the holder of the last license to crenellate. I’m sure that Eastwell is a lovely place, but as Millom is only about an hour’s drive from Kendal, it’s somewhere I can actually go and scout out if I have a spare afternoon.
If anyone’s interested, the Castles Studies Group have a brilliant article on the subject which can be found here.

Friday 17 August 2012

"Beware of Doors.”


When I first moved to Kendal, about a year ago, I fell well and truly in love with the architecture. The town is very higgledly piggledy with lots of windy streets and “yards” – passages that look like they don’t lead anywhere until you head down them and find amazing shops and an unexpected pub and things. It looks quite chaotic and unplanned but a lot of the street layout has been the same since the town was established so there’s a real sense of continuity.

One of the things I like the most about the town’s architecture is the number of interesting doors. I was really stuck by this when I first moved here. I’d read Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere a few months earlier and was paying close attention to any interesting doors I came across in case they led to  a secret underground world. Kendal has tonnes of lovely but anassuming buildings with doors that look like they lead somewhere. When I moved here I decided it’d be fun to get photos of as many as I could. Almost one year later, I’ve made a start. It’s surprisingly awkward going up to a building and and taking a photo of someone’s door. There’s the worry that people will think you’re sizing it up for an elaborate burglary and such like but at the moment Kendal’s full of crazy tourists so it kind of feels ok at the moment.


I thought I'd start with some doors I walk past on my way to and from work.





This is the door to Dower House Antiques. Very nice and Georgian. It feels a bit like something from a period drama.


The shop front still has original (I assume) window frames and they are lovely. As are the fluted pillars and the duck egg blue paint. I've not actually been in there to have a mooch around yet as it's slightly too far to go on my work breaks.

I'm assuming the Dower reference might imply the building's origianal use as a home for a widow or dowager somehow linked to one of the large Kendal families (as in the Castle Dairy's heritage)



Next up we have the delights of Kendal Parish Church. Which is apparently only slightly less wide than York Minster. Which is why I did a rubbish job of fitting the whole thing into the picture.



(Just as an aside. This is the writing on the very ornately carved cross in front of the church.)



Oh no, Instagram!


More Instagrammyness but this door is just wonderful. Its just to the right of the big main door (above) and looks like it probably leads to spiral stairs or a tiny medieval broom cupboard.

  
Once you see one interesting door, you start seeing them everywhere. This could become quite a fun obsession.

Tuesday 14 August 2012

Hello

Once upon a time, there was a girl who thought it would be nice to start a blog seeing as how everyone seems to have one these days.

The girl lived in Cumbria, surrounded by hills and lovely architechture and thought it might be nice to have a place to post about swashbucking adventures and nefarious shenanigans.

Happy Reading!