Here’s a fascinating guest post by one of our volunteers, Emily, who’s here to enlighten us all about the history of our beloved gardens…

Gardens, we all take them for granted these days don’t we? Whether it’s a little plot at the back of your house, or a ginormous plot of land belonging to a large estate, the garden is a place where we can retreat and where nature can thrive. But have you ever thought about the origins of our gardens, and how they evolved over the centuries? Well, if you are sitting comfortably, then I’ll begin…

Tudor garden twists

Gardens in the past changed with what was fashionable at the time. If you didn’t have the latest garden trend, then you were nobody. In the early days of the Tudor period, gardens were, like today, places to socialise and to take exercise. In those days, when practising the wrong religion could get you into BIG trouble, rich landowners would hide religious symbols within their gardens, as well their houses. A maze was often a feature in these gardens, and guest could enjoy them often oblivious to the notion that they may be a religious symbol. Instead what they saw was perhaps a form of entertainment, especially when catch a dashing suitors’ attention was part of the fun!

By the time of the Stuarts, some considered the style and symbols of the old Tudor gardens, ahem, out of date, and had them redesigned to meet the fashionable standards of the time. Trees and paths were the order of the day! Oh there were flowers too, but planted in straight lines. The English were very keen to stay ahead of their rivals, the French, and it was very much a case of “anything you can do, we can do better ”. So English gardens became very French in style, in an attempt to out do them. An example of this is the famous garden at Hampton Court. A garden for royalty and the well to do, designed for walks and parties. A bit like today really!

The illusion of untamed nature

Fast forward to the Age of Enlightenment and the gardens of the stately home changed dramatically. Out went the formality and in came the ‘nature-controlled’ gardens, ones created by man, but with the illusion that they were perfectly natural. We see this most in the gardens of the stately homes we know and visit today, from Stowe in Buckinghamshire to Castle Howard in Yorkshire. Like the Tudor gardens, these could also have hidden meanings. From the political views of the owner, to telling stories according to folklore and fairy tale, the garden became a place for the well-to-do to play out their fantasies.

These gardens didn’t come cheap though, if you were hoping to build a grotto for your back garden for a small sum, you’d need to think again! One man responsible for making these gardens a reality was Lancelot “Capability” Brown – THE man for job. The prices attached to his gardens were eye-wateringly expensive, particularly as everything was done by hand, no JCBs here! Planning a visit to your local garden centre to buy things off the shelf wasn’t an option, and much of it, like the statues, had to be sculpted from scratch.

BUT if you DID have the cash, then you could have everything you could possibly want. Waterfalls, temples, grottos, you name it. The temples and ruins that were constructed for these gardens were often Grand Tour inspired. These trips or ‘tours’ were taken by the aristocracy to places like Greece and Italy, and from them, they bought back classical ideas for their gardens. It was the time of ‘the Romantics’, romanticising the ancient histories of Rome & Greece. It’s something we still do today, we all like a bit history in our gardens…

Kitchen gardens

In the Georgian and Victorian periods, the garden changed again, with clashing colours mixing in the borders, and the introduction of greenhouses for growing plants and produce normally grown in a warmer climates, like ferns and palm trees! Growing fruit and veg in the garden had of course been around for some time, with many stately homes having their own kitchen gardens built for the purpose. Back in the Georgian period, the way to show off your wealth was to have a ‘pinery’ for growing, wait for it, pineapples! Why were they a symbol of wealth you ask? Because pineapples are notoriously temperamental and an absolute pain to grow!

The humble back garden

By the Victorian era, the garden started to become more accessible to the masses, and those who were lucky enough to have their own back garden for their property, used them primarily to grow produce for their families. Gardens became more functional places over spaces to socialise. During WW1 and WW2 the kitchen garden was considered more important than ever before, growing whatever was needed to survive.

Today, many gardens combine the role of food provider and leisure space, taking snippets of inspiration from gardens throughout history and all over the world.  Whether they are well loved and cared for or messy, neglected and in need of a little love, they’re something that we all recognise and take pleasure from. The fashions and designs of gardens will change, but the need and desire for them will always remain the same.

 

 

On Friday 8^th May, the whole of Europe had intended to commemorate the end of World War II with VE and VJ Day events.

The events were to mark the 75^th anniversary of the original Victory in Europe and Victory in Japan days, held in May and August 1945. While the planned celebrations are sadly no longer possible, we can all still privately and virtually commemorate the millions who died too soon, and all those whose lives were changed forever by the catastrophic events of the Second World War.

An end to war

On the 8^th & 9^th May 1945, after over five long years of war, the entire population of Europe came together to celebrate the end of the fighting on the continent. Though nations still mourned all those who had died or been injured or traumatised, and continued to wait for the end of the war in the east (where the war with Japan was still continuing), the end of fighting in Europe was a reason to celebrate.

St Neots celebrates

The local newspaper, the ‘St Neots Advertiser’, reported details of the many celebrations that took place in the town and the surrounding villages.  Reports read:

“St Neots received the joyful news of the end of the war against Germany quite calmly, with feelings of thankfulness to God; happiness; relief; pride; humility; gratitude to the gallant men and women who made victory possible; remembrance of those who had given their lives for us in many parts of the world; sympathy for their relatives; and a vivid reminder of the stern fight ahead against the brutal Japanese.”

“An outward sign of rejoicing was a profuse display of flags…Russell Street was a specially high spot. Church bells rang merrily in St Neots, Eynesbury and Eaton Socon”

The re-formed Eynesbury and St Neots Town Silver Prize band paraded the town and played on the Market Square. Church services were held throughout the day and the paper reported “joyous scenes on St Neots Market Square on VE night”. Loud speakers had been installed on the square and dancing to popular tunes continued in to the early hours.

The paper believed that local lady, Miss Dorothy Wrycroft, was chiefly to be thanked for arranging the dancing, along with Maypole dances for children. Victory Day coincided with St Neots May Fair (which opened on Thursday 10^th May), and Thurston’s, the fair owners, allowed the public to use the motor track of one of their large roundabouts for dancing on the Market Square.

At 9pm a hush fell as the “immense crowd” listened to the speech by H.M. King, George VI, which was later printed in local papers. In part of his speech, he spoke for the whole nation when he said:

“Let us remember those who will not come back; their constancy and courage in battle, their sacrifice and endurance in the face of a merciless enemy: let us remember the men in all the services, and the women in all the services, who have laid down their lives. We have come to the end of our tribulations, and they are not with us at the moment of our rejoicing.”  

An end to restrictions

After five long years of night time black-out restrictions, another hugely popular part of the celebrations was the lighting of bonfires, and on many of them, the burning of a hastily created effigy of Hitler. Lights in the darkness must have been a particular pleasure after the black-out, and locally, Little Barford power station was floodlit and could be seen for many miles around. Many other buildings were also floodlit in celebration of the end of the war.

Local celebrations

In the villages around St Neots, each community came together to celebrate. In Eaton Socon, the highlight of VE Day itself was the huge bonfire at the Hillings, where Hitler’s effigy was duly consumed by the flames. Fireworks were let off on the Green, where the dancing continued until 2 a.m.  Another bonfire was lit on the Fair Ground at Eaton Ford, where the large crowd that had gathered witnessed another cremation of Hitler.

Even the Inmates of the St Neots Institution had extra rations, and those who were well enough were allowed to attend local church services and the jollifications.

At Little Barford, the whole village assembled at Little Barford House at 1pm by invitation of Mr W H Alington, where a short address and a toast were made.  After an evening Service of Thanksgiving, a bonfire was lit and a great centre of interest was a life-size, and remarkably life-like, effigy of Hitler found hanging from a tree.

In Great Gransden, the St Neots Advertiser reported that:

“Hundreds of people assembled in the Cricket Field in the afternoon to hear Mr. Churchill’s broadcast of the end of war in Europe…In the evening it was estimated over 1,000 people were on the field where an open-air dance was held.”

In Waresley, the village was gaily decorated, a dance took place on the Tuesday evening, and on the Wednesday tea and sports were held in Mr. A. Minney’s meadow.

Throughout the celebrations there was little rowdy behaviour, although the police were kept busy preventing some celebrations from getting out of hand.

Festivities for children

If Tuesday the 8^th May was a day for adult celebrations, then Wednesday 9^th May was, in many places, given over to parties and sports events for children and young people.  Both women and men put all their energies into entertaining the children and making it a memorable day for them.

In St Neots and Eynesbury, many parties were held in the decorated streets, on the greens, and in halls and barns.  The women organisers of the parties made a wonderfully good job of it at very short notice; not only did they collect money, beg or bake dainty food for sumptuous repasts, cut sandwiches, make jellies, officiate as waiters (in gay hats and costumes), clear away AND do the washing up, but they helped to decorate their children for fancy dress parades. Meanwhile, the men folk gave a willing hand, fixing up tables and, on the Wednesday, arranging sports and games in recreation grounds and fields across the area.

Service men and women return home

In the newspapers, under the heading “News of our Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen”, appeared reports of those who were returning home after being held as Prisoners of War.

Perhaps the happiest people in Eaton Socon on VE Day were Mr and Mrs G Eckford.  They had received no news of their son, George, who had been taken prisoner at Tobruk just over three years prior, and had been held in camps in Italy and Germany.  Tuesday 8th May brought the telegram they were waiting for which said that he was ‘safe and well’.  This good news meant that all the Eaton men who were prisoners in Germany were accounted for, some were even home with their families in time for VE Day.  This included Flight Sergeant Aubrey Waters, son of Inspector Waters of St Neots.  His plane had been brought down over Germany on 16th March the previous year; he had baled out safely and landed in a back garden in Stuttgart, where he was captured by the German civil police.  It had been only his third ‘op’ after taking the place of a sick gunner from another crew.  His original crew were shot down some three weeks later.  During his time as a prisoner, he had been in a number of camps, and had suffered close to starvation on the long marches between them.  He later said, however, that boredom had been his greatest enemy.

Also home was Private Horace Coe from Bedford Street.  He had endured three and a half years as a prisoner im Sicily, Italy and Germany, having been captured while serving with the 1st Armoured Division in the African Desert.  His greatest ordeal was having to march 800 miles with few, or no, rations following the D-Day break through.

Petty Officer Graham Ibbs gave his parents a surprise by walking into their home at The Crescent unexpectedly.  In June 1942 he’d been serving with the destroyer Bedouin when it was torpedoed while on convoy escort to Malta.  He was picked up by an Italian Red Cross boat and imprisoned in Italy.  On the capitulation of Italy, Petty Officer Ibbs escaped, and actually reached the Swiss border before being recaptured by German troops.  He was then sent to Bremen where he remained until the camp was liberated by the Allies.

These three reports illustrate just a few of the many stories of hardship being told by the returning Prisoners of War. In marking the 75^th anniversaries of both VE & VJ Days, we recall and commemorate the sacrifices and the hardships experienced by the people of Britain and the global population during the 1939 – 1945 war.

Looking to share your own family memories?

The Museum is still looking for photographs and memories of St Neots and the surrounding villages from 1939 – 45, so if you have any information please do get in touch. We can scan and return photographs, so precious family items do not need to be donated to the museum. As we are currently closed, you can get in touch by emailing us at director@stneotsmuseum.org.uk.

They say that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but legend tells us that it WAS founded on one…

The 21^st April 753 BC was just like any other day (well, we imagine) until two famous brothers had a fall out. The result was the creation of Rome, one of the powerhouses of the ancient world. Though the story of Rome’s origins is rooted in myth, we still acknowledge its foundation on this day. So, to mark its anniversary, here’s the myth of Romulus and Remus, along with a few other city foundation myths from the ancient (and not so ancient) world.

The foundation of Rome – Romulus and Remus

The twin brothers Romulus and Remus, were supposedly the sons of Mars, god of War, and Rhea Silvia, daughter of the king of Alba Longa and a revered ‘Vestal Virgin’ (or priestess, sworn to chastity in honour of the goddess Vesta). Poor Rhea Silvia hadn’t become a Vestal Virgin by choice, but had been forced into it by her uncle Amulius after he deposed her father, killing off his male children in the process.

When Amulius discovered that Rhea Silvia had broken her vow of chastity (though how much say she had in the matter is questionable where Roman gods are concerned), and given birth to two boys, he was understandably cross. He charged his servants to set the boys adrift in a basket on the River Tiber, rather optimistically assuming that would be the end of the matter!

La Lupa

Instead of meeting the watery death intended though, the brothers floated down the river and were discovered by a she-wolf, who suckled the twins, keeping them alive until they were taken in by a shepherd and his wife. The pair grew up, and decided that as a thank you, they’d found a city on the site where the she-wolf discovered them. Nice!

A city is born

However, the nicety of the gesture was short lived. After a quarrel about which hill was best to build the city on, Romulus killed his brother, and founded Rome in his own name to celebrate. Talk about brotherly love. Sadly, Romulus’ dishonourable actions didn’t stop there, in order to populate the city, he stole women from the nearby region of Sabinum – a scene now immortalised in numerous pieces of Renaissance art as ‘The Rape of the Sabines.’

Under his leadership, Rome was to go on to become the dominant power in the region. We’re told that eventually Romulus himself disappeared in mysterious circumstances during a violent thunderstorm. Spooky…

Athens – Athena vs. Poseidon

Athens, the city at the heart of the Greek civilisation was also founded by a contesting pair. Both Athena, goddess of wisdom, and Poseidon god of the sea competed for the honour of becoming the patron god of the city, and offered gifts for judgement by its citizens.

First Poseidon struck the ground with his trident and created a spring, offering water to drink and indicating that he could offer great naval power to the city. The inhabitants rushed forward to drink but were shocked to find that it was (naturally) salt water! Athena, on the other hand, offered the first olive tree, a symbol of prosperity and peace, along with the promise of food, oil, and firewood.  The citizens decided that on balance, Athena’s gift was the most promising, and the city has taken her name ever since.

N.B. Depending on the version of the myth that you read, Poseidon proves to be a very sore loser and floods the city in revenge.

Alexandria – Alexander’s dream

After conquering vast swathes of the ancient world, Alexander the Great decided it was about time that he founded his own city to help assert his dominance (and further inflate his ego).

On the advice of his architects, Alexander had already settled on a good spot to build his city, until, during a dream, he saw a vision. An old man with white hair and an esteemed appearance came to him and said: “There is an island in a stormy sea in front of Egypt. They call it Pharos.” *FIN*… Who this man was remains about as unclear as his message. Some say it was the Greek historian Homer (of whom Alexander was a huge fan), but whoever it was, Alexander jumped straight to the conclusion that THIS was where he should build his city.

No chalk, no problem

He travelled to Pharos (an island above the mouth of the Nile in Egypt), and on arrival discovered that it was THE perfect spot. Shortly after, he set to work laying out the outline of the city. Annoyingly, he didn’t have any chalk to hand, and so he used barley instead. As you do.

When he finished, he sat back to admire his work, but suddenly a huge flock of birds flew from the river and ate the whole thing, every last grain. Alexander was understandably pretty miffed about that, but his quick-thinking seers hurriedly advised him that ACTUALLY, this was a good sign. In their view, what it meant that the city he was founding would ‘abound in resources and would sustain men from every nation.’ Alexander shrugged, thought “fair enough”, and a city was born.

Tenochtitlan – An eagle in a (prickly) pear tree

The tribes who were soon to be known as the famous ‘Aztecs’ received some rather peculiar orders from their god Huitzilopochtli, the god of sun and war.  Huitzilopochtli instructed them to abandon their home-land and start a pilgrimage to find a new one, where they would become the most powerful race in Mesoamerica. He told them that they would know once they’d found the place if they spotted an eagle, perched on a prickly pear cactus, oh and it would also be devouring a snake.

The precise spot turned out to be rooted in the heart of rebel god Copil, Huitzilopochtli’s nephew, who had been killed after his latest failed uprising attempt. As further punishment, his heart had been carelessly thrown into the centre of a lake.

The Aztecs located the spot in the centre of Lake Texcoco, and named the city after tetl meaning rock, and nochtli, the prickly-pear cactus.

 

On Sunday, 9 July 1648, seven months prior to the execution of King Charles, the Earl and his army of approximately 400 men entered St Neots in the county of Huntingdonshire. The Earl’s men were hungry and weary, following their escape from Kingston upon Thames, where the Parliamentary forces had completely overwhelmed them. Of his original army of 500, the Earl escaped with around 100 horsemen and were immediately followed by a small party of Puritan and Parliamentary horsemen. After much hesitation regarding in which direction they should flee, the Earl decided on Northampton, and the group made their way via St Albans and Dunstable. Upon the outskirts of Bedford the group turned eastward towards St Neots town. At Kingston, the Earl was joined by the young Duke of Buckingham, his young brother Francis Villiers and the Earl of Peterborough. They were also joined by Colonel John Dalbier, an experienced German soldier who was hated by the Roundheads, having previously served with them under the 3rd Earl of Essex until taking up arms in favour of the Cavaliers’ cause.

The field officers of Holland’s force sought only rest and safety. Colonel Dalbier called a council of war, where many officers voted for dispersing into the surrounding countryside. Others suggested they should continue northwards. Colonel Dalbier advised on the strategic position of St Neots and the fact that the joint remnants of Buckingham and Holland’s forces had increased sufficiently since the retreat from the Roundheads at Kingston. He suggested they meet and engage their pursuers. He further added that, by obtaining a victory, the fortunes of war could be turned in their favour. Due to his vast experience as a soldier, his words were listened to with respect. He further offered to guard them through the night in case of a surprise attack, or meet a soldier’s death in the defence of the town. A vote was taken and Dalbier’s plan was adopted.

The Earl of Holland — who, it was said, “had better faculty at public address than he had with a sword” — joined Buckingham and Peterborough in addressing the principal residents and townsfolk of St Neots. The Duke of Buckingham spoke at length, claiming “they did not wish to continue a bloody war, but wanted only a settled government under Royal King Charles.” Assurances were also given that their Royalist troop would not riot or damage the townfolks’ property. Of the latter, it is recorded that they were faithful to their promise.

Fatigued by their battle and consequent retreat from Kingston, the field officers eagerly sought rest. True to his word, Colonel Dalbier kept watch over them. The small group of Puritan horsemen who had pursued them had, upon reaching Hertford, met with Colonel Scroope and his Roundhead troops from their detachment at Colchester.

At two o’clock on Monday morning, 10 July, 100 dragoons from the Parliament forces arrived ahead of the main army at Eaton Ford. Dalbier was at once informed, and immediately gave the alarm: “To horse, to horse!” The dragoons, equipped with musket and sword, crossed St Neots’ bridge before the Royalists were fully prepared. The Battle of St Neots had begun.

The few Royalists guarding the bridge quickly fell back from the superior numbers before them. The ensuing battle was now fought on the main square and streets of the town. The remaining Royalists were now fully prepared for combat. The main army of Roundheads had also arrived, and a further wave of Puritans crossed the bridge into town. The battle was fierce, with the Puritans gaining ground.

Colonel Dalbier died during the early stages of the battle. Other prominent Royalists, including Buckingham’s younger brother Francis Villiers, and Kenelm Digby (son of the scientific writer of the same name), were also killed during the battle. Other officers and men drowned whilst attempting to escape by crossing the River Ouse. The young Duke of Buckingham, being overwhelmed by the speed of these events, escaped with 60 horsemen to Huntingdon, with the intention of continuing towards Lincolnshire. Upon realising the Roundheads were in hot pursuit, he changed plans, and via an evasive route returned to London from where he later escaped to France.

The Earl of Holland with his personal guard fought their way to the inn at which he had stayed the previous night. The gates had been closed and locked, but were quickly opened to admit him, and immediately closed again as he entered. The Parliamentarians soon battered them down and entered the inn. The door of the Earl’s room was burst open to reveal him facing them, sword in hand. It is recorded that he offered surrender of himself, his army and the town of St Neots, on condition that his life was spared.

The Puritans seized the Earl and took him before Colonel Scroope, who ordered him to be shackled and imprisoned under guard. The remaining Royalist prisoners were locked in St Neots parish church overnight, then taken to Hitchin the following morning. The Earl and five other field officers were taken to Warwick Castle, which had remained a parliamentary stronghold throughout the war. They remained prisoners for the next six months, until their trial for high treason. In London it was said “His Lordship may spend time as well as he can and have leisure to repent his juvenile folly.”

Peterborough also escaped disguised as a gentleman merchant, but was later recognised and arrested. Friends aided their escape again whilst en route to London for trial. He then stayed at various safe houses, financed by his mother, until he managed to flee the country.

This text has been reproduced from wikipedia under Creative Commons licence.

Ann Izzard was accused of witchcraft by her fellow village folk in 1808. This is a tale of how unfortunate circumstances can lead to fear and exile from one’s own community…

A brief look at her early life

Ann Izzard (born Ann Rowe at Offord in 1765) worked as a live-in servant for John Jackson, a farmer at Great Paxton, in 1778. It was while she was employed there that she met Wright Izzard and the pair began a relationship. Shortly afterwards, perhaps due to this relationship, Wright lost hist job on the farm, and records show that Ann and Wright were quickly married in Great Paxton on 21st November 1780, before moving to Great Staughton where their first child, Henry, was born.

By 1783, both Ann and Wright appear to have been unemployed and applied for parish relief, the unemployment benefit of its time. This was always paid from your ‘home’ parish and local parish officials would go to great lengths to ‘move on’ anyone for whom they thought another parish had responsibility. For this reason the couple were made to return to Great Paxton where the authorities housed them in a small, empty cottage away from the main village. Here they lived for many years, claiming parish relief and raising at least six children.

Whispers of witchcraft

This means of existence continued for the family until 1808, when the payments ended after one of their children, Miles, found employment for a local farmer. With no parish relief income, it’s likely that the family became very poor, and it may be that stories of Ann begging for food date from this period. It was certainly around this time that rumours that Ann was a witch began to circulate…

In April 1808, Ann was accused by villagers of bewitching their children, and causing them to fall ill with fits. The parents of Alice Brown, who was an epileptic, Fanny Amey and Mary Fox all accused Ann of causing their children to fall ill. Though it’s uncertain why Ann was the target, the fact that she and her family were poor and lived on the outskirts of the community would likely have branded her an ‘outsider’, and someone of which to be wary.

Despite attempts by the Curate, Rev. Isaac Nicholson, to calm the villagers, rumours that Ann Izzard was a witch swirled around the village. The father of Alice Brown was particularly determined to discover the identity of whoever was bewitching his daughter, though his methods of deduction are somewhat questionable! We’re told that he first filled a bottle with urine and put a cork in the neck embedded with pins. Afterwards, he heated the bottle by the fire, hoping this would bring on visions of the witch responsible… Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work!

Cries of ‘witch!’

The final straw came in May 1808 when the villagers accused Ann of overturning a cart on the way home from St Neots market. On the night of Sunday 8th May a group of local people, including the families of Alice Brown, Fanny Amey and Mary Fox, dragged Ann naked from her bed. They beat her and scratched her with pins until her arms were bleeding, believing that drawing blood would weaken the power of a witch.

After the attack, Ann was taken in by a neighbour, Mrs Alice Russell, who bandaged her arms and saw to her wounds. However, Alice too was threatened by the crowd who accused her of also being a witch. We’re told that Alice was so upset by these accusations that she suffered a seizure and sadly died only a few days later on the 20th May, aged 67.

On Monday 17th May, Ann was once again dragged from her bed, beaten and torn with pins, with the villagers threatening to duck her in the village pond. This so-called test for witchcraft worked by throwing the victim into water, if they sank they were innocent and if they floated they were proclaimed a witch. For those that were ‘proved innocent’ it could be a hollow victory if they weren’t pulled from the water in time!

After the second beating, the villagers who’d attacked Ann were arrested, tried and sentenced to a month’s imprisonment in Huntingdon goal. Surprisingly, Ann and her family remained at Great Paxton until at least 1813, when villagers were fined for once again accusing Ann and her youngest daughter Ruth of witchcraft. It was probably after this that the family moved to St Neots, where Ann and Wright were able to live for the rest of their lives.

No escape

Unfortunately for Ann, stories of her witchcraft followed her to St Neots. Children would call her names and tease her, and indeed tales that she could be seen riding her broomstick over Eynesbury churchyard were still current over a hundred years later! Stories were told of her preventing cream from churning into butter, threatening to prevent the vicar’s Sunday goose from cooking if she was not given the giblets to take home, and threatening the wife of the Bell pub landlord, demanding she give her meat left over from her husband’s butchers business.

Ann died in 1838, some year after her husband, and was buried in St Mary’s churchyard, St Neots in an unmarked grave. However, even in the childhood of Mr Tebbutt (born in 1900) who wrote the history of St Neots, her story lived on, and children were told that if they went to Potton Corner at midnight they would see Nanny Izzard riding on her broomstick…

Ann’s tragic story serves as an example of the power of rumour and hearsay, and shows how unlucky circumstances could lead to ostracism and suspicion of witchcraft, even as late as the 19th century in England.