In rural Northumberland an elegant stone column rises in a field. A passer-by would guess it to be an eighteenth century ornament, and they would be right: work to erect it was completed in 1786. But it was not built in Northumberland, where it has stood for a mere century. The monument actually started its life at Felbridge in Surrey, some 350 miles to the south.
The monument was commissioned by James Evelyn (1718-1793) of Felbridge Place, in Surrey, from the architect Sir John Soane, whose original designs show a fluted column. This was rejected in favour of a plain column, but this tweak to the design would still keep the stonemason busy: the shaft carries a Latin eulogy to Evelyn’s parents, and is also inscribed with the 13 verses of Joseph Addison’s Hymn to Gratitude — or rather 14 verses as the penultimate verse was added to Addison’s original. The story goes that a local clergyman felt 13 verses was inappropriate and added one of his own. The drum is carved with the motto Manners Makyth Man and is encircled by a snake swallowing its own tail, representing eternity. Just two years after its completion The Honorable John Byng passed by and noted the ‘extraordinary monumental obelisk’.
The serpent gave rise to the local legend that the monument was erected to mark the spot where two people and a horse were killed by an enormous snake. A local reporter called the story ‘absurd’, and was bewildered that it was ‘firmly believed in by many local people’
The Felbridge Place estate changed hands a number of times after Evelyn’s death. In 1924 it was on the market once more, with the ‘memorial column’ included in the deal. A year later a diarist in a local paper wrote that the column was deteriorating rapidly, and that if something wasn’t done soon the top of the ‘grand piece of stonework’ would come ‘crashing down’. He ended with a question: ‘will not the owner of the estate show sufficient interest to have it repaired?’ In short, no, they wouldn’t, as the land was destined for lucrative housing development.
But someone who did show an interest was Stephen Aitchison (1863-1942) who had recently bought and restored Lemmington Hall, near Alnwick in Northumberland. History does not seem to record how Aitchison learned about the monument, but he purchased it and the plot of land on which it stood. The monument was dismantled in February 1927, and a local paper reported that ‘while deeply regretting that there was so little public-spiritedness in the village of Felbridge that this beautiful obelisk was not acquired and preserved in situ, it is gratifying to know that it is not to be demolished but is to grace northern instead of southern England’.
The dismantled monument was then moved north to be re-erected as an object in the park at Lemmington. Writing in Country Life in 1978, Margaret Hudson states that the work was completed in 1928 at a cost of £1,470.
It is appropriate that Aitchison was erecting a monument to gratitude in 1928, for the New Year Honours list of that year bestowed upon him a knighthood (he would be created a baronet in 1938). Although some of the lettering on the monument was recut after it was moved north, the family appear to have added no words of their own.
And now a confession: the Flâneuse did not see the column at close quarters as the field in which it stands was home to a herd of boisterous beasts. Hence the slightly blurry image above, taken from the edge of the field. But the excellent Geograph website saved the day with this image:
Meanwhile, the Uncouth Companion was earning his wings as a trainee drone pilot:
In 1995 Felbridge Parish Council began to consider how to mark the Millennium. One suggestion was that the column be returned to its original home. It is unlikely that anyone took this suggestion very seriously, as the cost would have been enormous (even assuming that the then owner had agreed to part with it). Unsurprisingly, the column (grade II*) remains in its northern home.
And as if the lovely column wasn’t treat enough, after viewing the column you can turn and look to Lemmington Branch, a castellated hilltop folly (history yet to be investigated) now converted into a very smart house.
When James Evelyn, the original builder of the monument, wasn’t commissioning fine monuments he was carrying out good works. As well as founding a village school he established the splendidly named Beef and Faggot Charity which ensured that the poorer members of his local community were cared for. There’s an account of the charity, which continues today, here.
You can read the whole of the hymn featured on the column here.
Lemmington Hall was leased for many years to a convent, but was sold by the Aitchison family early this century. It has recently been renovated as a wedding venue.
Thank you for reading. Comments and thoughts are always welcome – scroll down to the foot of the page to get in touch.
Nick Addington says:
By coincidence we are holidaying in Northumberland and I was in that field admiring the column just yesterday evening! (The boisterous beasts being in a distant corner at the time.) There is also an upright stone between the road and the column inscribed with the verse from Psalm 121, ‘I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills’, and three smaller stones beyond commemorating the births of Aitchison’s three grandchildren. Your informative article augments what I’d gleaned to date – thank you.
Editor says:
Hello Nick. We were only a few days away from bumping into each other. I’m pleased you got to walk to the column, and saw the other stones, which I had only read about. I was fine with cows until a scary incident some years ago, and now I keep my distance. Enjoy your holiday
Moira Garland says:
Another lovely read.
You’re right – as you obviously know – to be wary of what I assume were cattle. Very many years ago I was in a field belonging to my farmer uncle, with his daughter, my cousin. Since I was walking with her I thought the cattle would not be a problem. Less than half a dozen of them corralled us into a corner. It took a scary few minutes (that felt like hours) of waving and shouting, and them not shifting, for us to make a hurried escape. Not an experience I’d want to repeat either.
Editor says:
Good afternoon Moira. Yes, I had a similar experience with cattle, so I now err very much on the side of caution.
Rita Lamb says:
Last summer I and some other ladies of mature years were taken on a guided walk through some Crown Estates land. Our guide cheerfully led us around the edge of a field dotted with grazing cattle.
“These cows are friendly, are they?” I asked. “Oh, no trouble. Well – the bull can be, but he’s more interested in his cows.”
We trooped quietly on, as I pictured the results if the bull ceased to be interested in his cows and decided to switch his attention to the string of elderly ladies invading his domain.
Editor says:
Good morning Rita. I’m pleased you survived to tell the tale!
Garance says:
Sadly my gratitude to you and your drone operating UC doesn’t stretch to such poetry as the hymn carved into the column. Suffice to offer many thanks to you both for your endless efforts to educate.
Editor says:
Hello Garance
Many thanks for getting in touch,
We appreciate it very much.
TOM GARDNER says:
TOM (NYC)
WELL … YOU’VE DONE IT – YET AGAIN!
A SPLENDID OFFERING FOR A SATURDAY MORNING’S COFFEE … VIEWING.
THE GREAT DETAIL IS SO RICH IN HISTORY, IT DRAWS ONE IN –
FROM START TO FINISH.
I’M SURE WE, ‘YOUR COUSINS’ – FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE POND –
HAVE OUR OWN ‘FOLLY’S’ – WITH THEIR OWN, HISTORIES OF MREIT; BUT IT’S KIND OF TOUGH TO MATCH YOUR OFFERINGS; AS WE’RE SUCH A YOUNG … NATION.
ERGO, KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK, AS IT NEVER GOES UNAPPRECIATED.
TOM
COUNTRY COMPARED … 2 – U.
Editor says:
Thanks Tom. Very pleased you enjoyed my weekly story. It’s an afternoon for coffee and a good book in soggy England.
Your biggest Dutch fan says:
Your post on the Lemmington monument was a lovely surprise. Not (only) because it was eloquently written, as are all your posts, but it brought back many happy memories. We were fortunate enough to stay in one of the cottages on the Lemmington estate a few months ago. From our sitting room window, we could just see the stone column among the tree tops in the valley below. Most nights we took the footpath, starting on our doorstep and taking us past the castle-like folly on the hill, and walked over the monument. Unfortunately there was a big gate, firmly shut, denying us access to the surrounding field. Being law abiding tourists, we didn’t dare to climb over it and admired the monument, and the lovely view towards the hall, from a respectful distance.
Editor says:
Good morning Ralph. I’m so pleased to know that you stayed in the area and saw the column. I didn’t have to worry about access as I had no intention of walking close to the frisky young cows. The view to the hall is wonderful, as are the views to the hills. I am slightly biased as I grew up in Northumberland. I hope you continue to enjoy exploring follies.
Ralph says:
I completely share your views on cows in fields or anywhere else. On an otherwise delightful walk, many years ago, we enjoyed an impromptu picnic on a small island, all very Arcadian. But when it suddenly started to rain, we discovered that our only way off the island, a narrow and rickety footbridge, was blocked by a small calf and its HUGE and very protective mother. I won’t bore you with the details of what happened next, but I can tell you that I have never, knowingly, entered a field with cows since.