One of the obvious differences in visiting small towns in England and America is age. A more subtle difference that comes with age is the incredible layering of artifact on artifact, on multiple histories for multiple times.
If that seems a bit heavy on the philosophy scale, let’s start with a fairly recent layer, one of the first things we noticed on arrival in Stamford, Lincolnshire: an abandoned cigarette vending machine from the 1920s or 30s installed in a building wall and obviously long out of use.
A walk further down the street, a street that was once part of a Roman road that ran from London to Lincoln to York. Boudica, leading the revolt of her Iceni tribe against Rome in 61 AD followed it across the Welland River here in pursuit of the 9th Legion.
Just before the river stands The George, today a rather fancy hotel and dining establishment, it’s been there since 1615, on land that belonged for centuries to the Abbey of Croyland. In medieval times, Stamford had six monasteries, six religious colleges and at least fourteen churches: quite a lot for the time!
But that’s a layer ahead of ourselves! After the Romans, Stamford’s two halves, on opposite sides of the river, were on an important border. North of the river, Stamford was ruled by Danes and Danish law; to the south, Anglo-Saxons and their laws ruled.
Such distinctions came to an end in 1066 when Willliam the Conqueror took control of all of England, including all of Stamford, or Stanford as it was written in the Domesday Book, that all-encompassing index of the new king’s new possessions and realms.
Richard Croft/Wikimedia Commons
And William built a Norman castle along the river, a small remnant of which remains (above). Much of it disappeared over the years, but its impressive tower survived into the 20th century, only to be torn down in the 1930s to make room for buses to turn around at the end of their run.
Also along the river is Lord Burghley’s Hospital, a long row of stone almshouses on the site of a medieval hospital. Endowed by Elizabeth I’s treasurer and close advisor, it provided accommodation for fifteen elderly men of the town. It’s still in use today, with 20th century rules that allow women and couples as well, but still limited to long-time residents of Stamford.
The town was also the seat of an academic schism: in 1333, a group of students and tutors from two Oxford colleges moved to Stamford to start a college of their own. Oxford and Cambridge complained to Edward II and king ordered the rebels home. For the next 500 years, students at Oxford were required to take an oath: “You shall also swear that you will not read lectures, or hear them read, at Stamford, as in a University study, or college general.”
The Industrial Revolution largely passed Stamford by, a benefit to its good looks if not to its economy. It might not have been so had local interests lobbied hard enough against what is now the East Coast Mainline railroad from coming through town; it went through Peterborough instead, spurring that town’s growth.
A moment for mirth: a punny carrier in a music store window, and a fierce bear gargoyle seemingly astonished to have a piece of drainpipe shoved in its mouth.
Outside the castle remnant, two memorial benches provide a place for a break. One honors the town’s connection with RAF Wittering, a nearby former base, while the other has a more all-embracing message: “This bench commemorates both World Wars and all conflicts.”
But all conflict seems far away from a pleasant bench in the Town Meadows which lie between the two streams of the Welland.
Excellent article and photos. I love traveling to England!