Surrey: Painted by Sutton Palmer; Described by A.R. Hope MoncrieffMoncrieff, A. R. Hope (Ascott Robert Hope)
History
Surrey: Painted by Sutton Palmer; Described by A.R. Hope Moncrieff
Moncrieff, A. R. Hope (Ascott Robert Hope)
Surrey (England) -- Description and travel
The old towns of Surrey have more or less undergone the same change as
the metropolitan outskirts, some almost lost in the "Wen," as Cobbett
loved to call it, some making a nucleus for a sort of remote suburb,
much affected by the "dead weight" fund-holders and stock-jobbers so
loudly denounced by that obstreperous patriot. The villages, too, are a
conglomeration of old and new about their ancient or spick-and-spanly
rebuilt churches, and their straggling greens, kept in time-honoured
sanctuary from the weapons of the jerry-builder. The whole county
betrays its metropolitan dependence in the many trim enclosures around
modern mansions and villas, among which holds up its head here and there
some lordly old hall like Sutton or Loseley, some once strong castle
like those of Guildford or Farnham. There are not a few ivied
manor-houses still standing; some fallen to the estate of farm-houses,
some restored or enlarged to be choice residences for new owners. A
weather-beaten cottage of gentility will command a fancy price, so long
as it be not too near the madding crowd, nor yet too far from means of
soon mingling with the same. Then Surrey is famed for those real
cottages, "sacred to the poor," that may appear in the very heart of
some smug, commonplace suburb, but more often in out-of-the-way nooks,
where nature better blends with their timbered and gabled quaintness,
"each a nest in bloom," thatched, tiled, time-stained, patched,
top-heavy, leaning-to as if ripe to tumble among a bed of flowers--
One that, summer-blanch'd,
Was parcel-bearded with the traveller's-joy
In Autumn, parcel ivy-clad; and here
The warm-blue breathings of a hidden hearth
Broke from a bower of vine and honeysuckle:
One look'd all rose-tree, and another wore
A close-set robe of jasmine sown with stars:
This had a rosy sea of gillyflowers
About it; this, a milky way on earth,
Like visions in the Northern dreamer's heavens,
A lily-avenue climbing to the doors;
One, almost to the martin-haunted eaves
A summer burial deep in hollyhocks:
Each its own charm.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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