Thursday, 3 June 2021

Theravada (1) Sri Lanka: Buddhist Temples, Monasteries and Buddha Images Part 4

Buddhism with an Occasional Hindu God

Theravada Buddhism and the Pali Canon

Dharmachakra

Theravada (lit. "School of the Elders") is the oldest existing branch of Buddhism. For more than two millennia, Theravadins have preserved their version of the Buddha’s teaching in the classical Indian language of Pali.

The first Buddhist Council, held some 30 years after the death of Gautama Buddha (he died in either 483 or 400 BCE) adopted the oral testimony of two of his leading disciples to be the guiding scriptures of what would become the Theravada tradition. This testimony became known as the Pali Canon, traditionally described as the ‘Word of the Buddha’. For centuries it was preserved orally by Bhāṇakas (Pali: reciters), monks who specialised in the memorisation and recitation of a specific collection of texts.

During the 4th Buddhist Council in Sri Lanka around 29 BCE, the decision was taken to make a written version of the canon. For centuries the bhānaka tradition existed alongside the written word and there are still monks who memorise vast chunks of the scripture.

The internet does not know, or will not tell me, how many words the canon runs to (in any language) but published versions generally fill around 50 volumes - so not holiday reading, then.

How Buddhism Came to Sri Lanka

The Indian Emperor Ashoka the Great (ruled 268-232 BCE) sought to spread Buddhism throughout South East Asia. His brother (or maybe son) Mahinda converted the Sri Lankan king after they met at Mihintale near Anuradhapura in the north central part of the island (see map below)

Tradition states that Mahinda stood where I was standing to take the photograph while the king's position is marked by the white dagoba. The scene is benevolently overlooked by a modern Buddha statue.

The Upper Terrace, Mihintale, where Buddhism arrived in Sri Lanka

For a fuller version of the legend, see the Mihintale post. Suffice it to say here, Buddhism caught on and has been the dominant religion in Sri Lanka ever since.

Temples in Sri Lanka

70% of Sri Lankans self-identify as Buddhists, and although the nation’s constitution guarantees religious freedom for all, it reserves a special place for Buddhism.

Buddhist temples, of course, exist, but they are not as obvious a part of the landscape as they are in Myanmar, Laos or Thailand. Dagoba’s, on the other hand are everywhere, and important Buddha statues can be revered without the need for a surrounding temple.

Anuradhapura, Polonnaruwa and Kandy, Sri Lanka's 3 former capitals
are the corners of the 'Cultural Triangle'

Anuradhapura and Polonnaruwa

We spent our first two full days at two of Sri Lanka's former capitals, Anuradhapura (337 BCE - 11th century) and Polonnaruwa (11th-15th century).

There is an adjacent modern town of Anuradhapura, but both ancient towns are respectfully restored ruins. The dagobas are in good repair….

Thuparama Dagoba, Anuradhapura. The oldest dagoba in Sri Lanka, it allegedly enshrines the Buddha's left collarbone

….and the Buddha images are not just gawped at by foreign tourists. Sometime locals come to pray…

The 4th century Samadhi Buddha, Anuradhapura

… or leave offerings.

Gal Vihara (Stone Shrine) at Polonnaruwa with offerings

The Temple of the Tooth, Kandy

The Temple of the Tooth may be Sri Lanka’s most important temple, but from the outside it is disappointing.

The Temple of the Tooth, Kandy

After the Buddha’s cremation in 5th century BCE several body parts were allegedly rescued from the flames, including a tooth. A century later, with Buddhism declining in India, the tooth was smuggled to Sri Lanka wrapped in the hair of a princess.

For 2,000 years the tooth resided in the island’s capital, first at Anuradhapura, then Polonnaruwa and, since the 15th century, in Kandy. The link was broken when the British colonial administration moved the capital to Colombo in 1815.

Inside the Temple of the Tooth, Kandy

The gold casket containing the tooth is displayed only two days a month and is very rarely opened.

A Replica of the Casket of the Tooth, photographed in a different temple

Bella Sidney Woolf, a writer and sister-in-law of Virginia Woolf, saw the tooth in 1914 and described it as a ‘tooth of discoloured ivory at least three inches long – unlike any human tooth ever known.’ In 1597 a Portuguese traveller claimed it was a buffalo tooth. To express doubts about the relic’s authenticity is deeply offensive, so I will say no more.

Is the Tooth behind here? The Temple of the Tooth, Kandy

Lankatilake Vihara near Kandy

Lankatilake is one of three temples we visited in a morning from Kandy. Sitting on a rocky outcrop it was built in the mid-14th century.

Lankatilake

A great deal is known about the king who commissioned it, the minister charged with the work, the architect who designed it and many other details as they were chiselled into the surrounding rock in a lengthy Pali inscription.

Lynne, Lankatilake and the railed off Pali inscription (as seen on the 50 Rupee note)

Inside, is the main Buddha image with two attendants…

Main Buddha image, Lankatilake

…and also (sorry, no photograph) images of Upulvan, Ganapathi, Vibhishana and Saman.

These survivors from Sri Lanka’s Hindu past (Upalvan is an avatar of Vishnu) are still revered within Buddhism. Saman is associated across South East Asia with the rising morning sun and is considered a special protector of Sri Lankan Buddhism.

They provoke this digression:

Gods in Sri Lankan Buddhism

Gautama Siddhartha became the Buddha on achieving enlightenment, he never claimed to be god nor a messenger of god. Buddhism has no gods, it is mainly a philosophy, but is included as a religion because it answers one of the great religious questions: ‘What happens to us when we die?’

But people like gods. The Buddha himself is often treated as if he were a god, and in Theravada Buddhism particularly, vestiges of pre-Buddhist religions live on – the Great Nats in Myanmar, and Hindu deities in Sri Lanka.

The monks at ancient Anuradhapura had not only had sophisticated ways of dealing with bodily waste, they also had an image of Kubera, the god of wealth on every latrine. Each squatting, straining monk could look Kubera in the eye and know that money and greed were in their rightful place.

We have now met the Hindu Gods at Lankatilake and will arrive at Kataragama (also known as Kartikeya, Murugan and Subramanhya) immediately after Dowa Temple.

Dowa Temple, Bandarawela

Driving us south through the central highlands, just beyond Bandarawela,...

Southern Sri Lanka

... Ravi pulled over unexpectedly. 'Dowa Temple and a rock carving of the Buddha,' he said pointing to a track dropping into a small ravine.

Following the track, we reached a set of concrete steps leading down to a small temple. At the bottom we were met by the smiling guardian wielding a huge key.

Dowa Temple, Bandarawela

Unlocking the door, he let us into not so much a building as a cave temple. There were the inevitable statues, a reclining Buddha looking crushed beneath the bulging rock, and paintings on the walls and rocky ceiling. The Rough Guide rather snootily comments that the paintings are of no great merit, but I was impressed by their vigour - and their mere existence in this unlikely spot.

Reclining Buddha under the rock ceiling, Dowa Temple, Bandarawela

There was no entrance fee, only a sign requesting donations. A couple of hundred rupees seemed to delight the already cheerful guardian who insisted on photographing us with his key.

Us with the large key, Dowa Temple, Bandarawela

As we left he directed us up a rocky slope beside the temple. Without our shoes ascending the rough pebble-strewn rock was painful and at the top we could see nothing to explain why we had been sent up there. Disappointed, we turned to descend and found the Buddha, right in front of us.

Unfinished rock carved Buddha, Dowa Temple, Bandarawela

The temple and unfinished carving have not been precisely dated but are thought to be some 2,000 years old.

Kataragama

Kataragama is the name of both a small south-eastern town with a large shrine and the god to whom the shrine is dedicated. An avatar of Lord Murugan, Kataragama is a patron deity of Sri Lanka and Ravi said that when his travels took him there he liked to do Puja - if we did not mind. We didn't.

Outside the shrine, Kataragama

Kataragama is a Hindu god; Puja, the making of an offering, usually of food, is a Hindu practice. Ravi, however, is clear in his own mind that he is a Buddhist. And the shrine we were going to visit? Well, that has something for everyone - there is even a mosque.

From the car park we followed a wide avenue lined with stalls. At the last stall Ravi bought flowers and we all deposited our shoes.

Ravi buys flowers, Kataragama

Kiri Vihara was originally a 6th century dagoba but, as always in Sri Lanka, it has been rebuilt so many times its real age is anybody's guess.

Kiri Vihara, Kataragama

Ravi presented flowers to the dogaba’s Buddha image and insisted that we had a lotus blossom each so that we too could make an offering.

Lynne makes an offering at Kiri Vihara, Kataragama

From the dagoba an avenue of soft sand (our bare feet were grateful) led to a cloister surrounding the temple of Kataragama and two smaller temples.

Following Ravi into the cloistered enclosure, Kataragama

Inside the cloister Ravi went to acquire the offerings for his Puja while we looked around. After a while he re-appeared bearing a cardboard box containing among other things, flowers, a coconut and a pineapple. 'Coming for Puja?' he asked.

Puja queue, Kataragama

We joined the queue for Puja, a dozen people along the side of the locked temple. As the queue began to build a large and officious man came and hooked us and a couple of other Europeans out. Ravi had disappeared so we repositioned ourselves at the front of the temple and waited patiently. The same officious man soon moved us back and strung a rope across to keep us there. Lynne went to sit in the shade while I hung about unobtrusively, trying to look interested, but not entitled.

A bell started clanging and a group of monks processed from the adjacent monastery bearing something hidden but obviously holy. They disappeared into the temple, the door closed behind them and the Puja queue continued to wait.

Carrying something holy, Kataragama

Another group of monks processed across, one with his ears and mouth covered with cloth.

Monk with his mouth and ears covered, Kataragama

A red carpet was unrolled from the monastery to the temple and after several more processions I was beginning to wonder if Puja would ever start.

Something holy on a red carpet, Katagarama

My thinking was disturbed by a major clanging of bells. The doors were flung open and the queue lurched forward, though not far, it was a small temple and only a few could fit in. A different official with a more pleasant demeanour came over and beckoned me to follow him. I called Lynne over from her refuge in the shade and he led us back to the Puja queue. After the next clang and shuffle we found ourselves tucked in at the rear of the temple.

There was little to see inside the small, darkened temple. There were a few images, but whatever holy artefacts had been brought in during the processions remained covered. Most importantly, we were in, the only Europeans there, and we were duly thankful to Ravi whose hand was clearly behind it. Along with the faithful, we were blessed as holy water was sprinkled over all, then the priest went round smearing ash to everyone’s foreheads and finally we all received a gift of food, a small parcel of spiced dhal - much tastier than a communion wafer.

As we filed out our benefactor grabbed us and led us into the space between two temples and gestured that we should sit on the wall. He disappeared, returning moments later with a machete and two coconuts. At coconut stalls we always used the straws provided though many locals did not bother. There is a knack to drinking straight from the coconut, and if I had had that knack I would have spilt less on my shirt. As we finished Ravi arrived with a conspiratorial grin on his face and more fruit in his hand.

We shared some watermelon and a pineapple with Ravi and his friend and then, with juice still on our faces, reclaimed our shoes and retraced our steps through the complex.

Gangaramaya Temple, Colombo

The area has been settled for 2,000 years, and the name ‘Colombo’ was used by the Portuguese in 1505, but the city is an upstart compared with the ancient cities of the cultural triangle. Our day in Colombo coincided with Poya, the day of the new moon, when no alcohol is served, and the day before the National Day Holiday when everything closes. Colombo hardly had a chance to impress - but it does have a good temple.

Gangaramaya is hemmed in on a city street, so its architecture is hard to appreciate, and it was unclear why we entered through a collection of vintage cars.

Vintage cars, Gangaramaya temple, Colombo

But it has an elegant stupa….

Stupa, Gangaramaya Temple, Colombo

….and a large Bodhi Tree, grown from a shoot from the tree at Anuradhapura, itself grown from a shoot of the tree in Bodh Gaya in northern India under which the Buddha attained enlightenment. The devout circumnavigate the tree three times in a clockwise direction and make offerings of oil, incense, fruit or flowers.

Bodhi Tree, Gangaramaya Temple, Colombo

There is a museum with an eclectic range of exhibits. I liked the posters warning of consequences of evil-doing – the punishment for adultery is harsh indeed.

Warning poster, Gangaramaya Temple, Colombo

Outside an impressive series of panels describes the early life of the Buddha. His road to enlightenment had many twists and turns, and a prolonged fast was one of those twists. This gaunt image is a reminder that the Buddhist way involves moderation in all things. Over-eating is harmful physically and morally – but so is over-zealous fasting.

The Buddha after fasting, Gangaramaya Temple, Colombo

It seems appropriate to end this post with idea that Buddhism is about balance. To avoid being accused of hypocrisy, I acknowledge that I am (much) more inclined to over-indulgence than zealous fasting, but I understand the values of Buddhist moderation (or Aristotle’s Golden Mean) here, and in other aspects of life – even if I cannot always live up to it..

Buddhist Temples, Monasteries and Buddha Images

Part 1: Introduction
Part 2: Mahayana Buddhism
Part 3: Tibetan Buddhism
Part 4: Theravada (1) Sri Lanka
Part 5: Theravada (2) Myanmar
Part 6: Theravada (3) Laos, Cambodia & Thailand

Sunday, 2 May 2021

Ludlow, Morville and Benthall Hall

As vaccinations prise us free of Covid's grip I offer my first post about somewhere new since last August's Wharfedale posts (see here and here). I hope to get abroad, too, before the end of the year!

1 Castle, 2 Stately Homes, 6 Different Cheeses, and a 40th Birthday

Morville

Shropshire
Our daughter was 40 this weekend. I am not sure how this happened; I know for a fact I am far too young to have a daughter of such an age, I am only a few silver hairs and an arthritic finger or two off my prime – and my wife (who has a 40-year-old daughter!) does not even grey hairs or arthritis.

To celebrate her birthday she hired Morville Hall, just outside Bridgnorth for a long weekend.

Morville Hall nr Bridgnorth
Photographed across the ha-ha, lol (thanks James)

No of course she didn’t, it would be ludicrously expensive, even if available, which it isn’t. But they do have two nice barn conversions.

Morville Barns on a cool May morning

And very comfortable they are too, the rooms are efficiently warmed by eco-friendly air-source heat pumps, and the remarkably well-equipped kitchens have arrow-slit windows - very useful should defence become a priority.

Arrow slit window in the kitchen

Bats are another bonus. Sadly, we saw none flitting around at dusk - always a pleasing sight - but they shared our accommodation. They did not bother us, I hope we did not bother them.

No access to the roof space above our bedroom - unless you are a bat

The weather was typical of this late April/early May, high pressure giving bright sunshine, but dragging in cold air from the east. Fortunately, we are hardy people, Lynne brought out the birthday cake…

The Birthday Cake arrives - why a significant birthday is celebrated with a hedgehog cake will remain a family secret

…for an al fresco birthday tea which continued into al fresco birthday champagne.

Stop taking pictures and blow out the candles!

Morville Hall

Morville Hall belongs to the National Trust and is, of course, currently closed under Covid restrictions. The dower house gardens are something special and would have been open had they not been closed by a different problem. Such is life.

Henry VIII’s dissolution of the monasteries created opportunities for a fortunate few to appropriate armfuls of monastic moolah. Morville Priory was grabbed by Roger Smyth who built himself a two-storey mansion.  The mansion's Tudor character disappeared when the third storey - and much else - was added around 1750 by Arthur Weaver, the MP for Bridgnorth.

St Gregory the Great

Despite his antipathy to the monasteries, Henry VIII knew every village must have a church and the former Priory Church of St Gregory the Great became the Parish Church in 1540.

St Gregory the Great, Morville

There had been a Saxon minster on this site, but a new church was dedicated in 1118. St Gregory’s has evolved over the past 9 centuries as the congregation’s needs have changed, but the chancel arch, the south door and the font are original.

St Gregory's facing Morville Hall

From the church we walked down to and then along the little Mor Brook…

The Mor Brook - April has been cool but dry

…and then tried to set up a family photo. Herding cats is easier, and the best photo turned out to be one taken during the herding process.

Family photo

The Village

The village of Morville is strung out along the A453 and looks as good as a village riven by an A-road can, though the pub is in a sorry, neglected state. During our stay a local came to canvas our opinion on the matter – a restored pub, café, village shop or take-away? The Covid months have shown us a village pub can be all these: how much influence she has, and what will eventually happen are another matter.

The Ludlow Kitchen and Farm Shop

On Saturday morning we set out on the short drive to Ludlow. Rural Shropshire – and it is mostly rural – has pleasant rolling hills, and one or two more significant uplands. The upland retains a hint of wildness while the villages in the valleys feel integral to the landscape rather than imposed upon it.

We followed the line of Wenlock Edge a couple of kilometres to our right, before swinging more sharply south to reach the A49 (Ludlow to Craven Arms) across Ludlow Racecourse. The road crosses the track twice – I presume it closes on race days.

Shropshire Butter Bun

Our first stop was at the Ludlow Kitchen and Farm Shop on the A49, the immediate object of desire being a Shropshire Butter bun.

A Shropshire Butter Bun

How this delight remains virtually unknown outside Shropshire is a mystery. A sweet bun made with industrial quantities of butter and soft brown sugar, it is not health food, but it is undoubtedly a treat. Unfortunately, the Ludlow Kitchen only had two left, so some generous sharing was required even to have a taste.

Buns for everyone - if not always the bun they wanted

Coffee and buns over, daughter and I headed for the farm shop while Lynne and son-in-law supervised the grandchildren in the playground. Ludlow has always been a foodie town and our mission was to provide supplies for the rest of the weekend and to ‘curate’ a birthday cheeseboard.

Ludlow Farm Shop

Apart from a free-range chicken and some cooking chorizo - convincingly Spanish, though made in the attached butchery - I shall describe our purchases later, but I cannot resist the picture below.

Not your regular flavours of crisps

The flavours may seem unlikely, but the British Association for Shooting and Conservation (they claim there is no contradiction) are promoting the eating of game, and think this is an easy way in. I did taste one Grouse and Whinberry crisp – I found little game flavour and less whinberry, but perhaps I picked up the wrong crisp.

Job done, Lynne and I took the grandson into Ludlow while the others headed back to Morville.

Ludlow Castle and the Old Centre

I could write at length about parking in Ludlow on the first Bank Holiday Saturday after the end of lockdown, but I will settle for a one-word comment: Grrrrr.

Ludlow Castle was built by Walter de Lacy on a promontory above the River Teme around 1075. The town grew up around the castle, then spread down the hill and has now colonised the flat land to the east.

Having eventually found a berth in Tescos car park at the bottom of the hill, we made a couple of purchases, allowing us two hours ‘free’ parking and set off upwards. We emerged on Corve Street, the main approach from the north, near the 17th century Feathers Hotel. Once called ‘The Most Handsome Inn in the World’ by the New York Times, we stayed there when we first visited Ludlow in 2005, but it now looks in need of some refurbishment. Being closed, like all such businesses for most of them last 15 months has been hard, so I have used a 2011 photo.

The Feathers Hotel, Ludlow (in 2011)

Ludlow’s old centre contains a market and a wealth of listed buildings (the town has over 500) lining medieval lanes and Georgian thoroughfares.

King Street, Ludlow

Like Skipton Castle, Ludlow Castle has a level entrance from the town and its far flank protected by a riverside cliff. The large outer bailey is where much of Ludlow’s business would once have been conducted.

Ludlow Castle, looking across the outer bailey

By late medieval times the town and church outside the wall would have been well established.

Looking across the inner bailey and Ludlow from Mortimor's tower on the curtain wall

Continually upgraded and enlarged, Ludlow was an important stronghold for 600 years. It changed hands several times during the 12th century wars between King Stephen and Empress Matilda. It was involved in the Second Barons' War (1264-67) between Henry III and Simon de Montfort and the Wars of the Roses when it was held by Richard of York

St George's Chapel, Inner Bailey, Ludlow Castle

When Richard’s son seized the throne as Edward IV in 1462 the castle became Crown Property. In Tudor times it was the seat of the Council in the Marches of Wales making Ludlow effectively capital of Wales. Prince Arthur, Henry VIII’s older brother spent his honeymoon with Catherine of Aragon in Ludlow in 1501 and died here in 1502. Whether the 15-year-old-prince consummated the marriage, became a major issue both when Henry VIII married Catherine in 1509 (only legal because the marriage was unconsummated) and then attempted to have the marriage annulled in 1533 (because the marriage had been consummated). The truth (whatever it may have been) remained largely irrelevant.

The entrance to Ludlow Castle's well-defended inner bailey

In the Civil War, Ludlow was held by the Royalists until being besieged and taken by the Parliamentarians in 1646.

Inside the tower, Ludlow Castle's inner bailey

After the Restoration of the Monarchy (1660), the castle no longer had a military use. In 1772 it was bought by Edward Clive, Earl of Powis, the son of Robert (‘Clive of India’) Clive and is still owned by the Powis Estate. After a period of neglect the 19th century invention of tourism prompted a clean-up and refurbishment.

During our visit the inner bailey was being used as a film set, it looked and smelt authentically medieval with grubby tents and an all-pervading aroma of horse manure – and worse. Unfortunately, the film company had forbidden photography and provided security to enforce their ban. Catherine, Called Birdy, based on Karen Cushman’s book and starring Billie Piper and Andrew Scott is a couple of months into shooting.

Inner ward tower, Ludlow Castle
Probably nothing to do with the film, but if it is - you saw it here first!

Leaving the castle. we popped into The Mousetrap, always a cheese shop to savour, and completed the cheeseboard.

Lunch and Other Goodies

The three of us arrived back in Morville predictably late for lunch.

Asparagus

Being in an asparagus growing region in the middle of the short asparagus season we had inevitably bought some in the farm shop. Green and purple asparagus were available, and as neither of us had seen purple before that was what we bought. It loses some of its colour in the cooking but the taste remains distinctive. ‘Nuttier and sweeter’ is the usual description, but for that I thought it sacrificed some of the unique asparagus flavour.

Purple Asparagus and a dippy egg - alfresco lunch

Asparagus has a remarkable affinity for egg – strange for a vegetable – whether as a dippy egg or as a soft-boiled egg chopped over the buttered spears.

And as I have moved onto food, here are the highlights (other than strange flavoured crisps) of our shopping expedition.

Pork Pie

The pork pie, with bacon and pheasant, made in the Farm Shop butchery, looked spectacular. It did not quite live up to expectation (I thought), there were different textures, but it did not bring out all the flavours.

Ludlow Farm shop Pork pie with bacon and pheasant

And then of course, there was:

The Cheeseboard

To those who do not approach cheese with the same delight and fascination that I do: you have my sympathy – and feel free to skip to the next section.

The Cheese Board

Clockwise from top left we have:-

St Agur - a soft blue cows’ milk cheese from the Auvergne. I am still excited by the rebirth of British artisan cheese-making, but when I visited The Mousetrap, this was the only soft blue on offer. The nice lady apologised, but the loosening of Covid restrictions and the bank holiday had produced considerably more than the expected bulge in trade and some cheeses had sold out. With abundant blue flavour balanced by soft creaminess, this did us fine.

Herefordshire Hop. A cheddar-style cheese rolled in toasted Herefordshire hops. First produced in 1990 by Charles Martell in Dymock in Gloucestershire. He makes a cheese and rolls it in hops, imitators tend to use minced and reformed cheddar and hop dust. I was not entirely convinced by this one.

Sheep Rustler. A semi-hard washed rind unpasteurised ewes’ milk cheese made by White Lake Dairy in Somerset. ‘Warm and nutty with a lingering hint of sweetness. Perfect for summer with notes of fresh grass and meadows.’ (The Cheese Society). I am convinced there is a greater depth of flavour in cheeses made with unpasteurised milk.

Sheep Rustler

Ragstone. A Goats’ milk cheese developed by Charlie Westhead at Neals Yard Creamery in Herefordshire. In traditional French goat-log style, it was inspired by Sainte Maure, but is ‘smoother, creamier… with less acidity and more complexity’ (Neals Yard Dairy).

Ragstone

Stinking Bishop, a soft cows’ milk washed rind cheese, is another Charles Martell creation. The cheese is immersed in perry made from Stinking Bishop pears every four weeks during the 3-month maturation process. The Stinking Bishop cultivar was first produced in the 1800s by Fred Bishop, a Herefordshire farmer renowned for his stinking temper, not his pungency. The same cannot be said of the cheese which has a powerful odour. The flavour is usually relatively mild, but not in this well-matured slice. It was, I thought, about as good as cheese gets.

Stinking Bishop

Rachel, made by the White Lake Dairy, is the sister of Sheep Rustler made using largely the same recipe but from goats’ milk rather than sheep’s. It is very pleasant, but hard and semi-hard goat cheeses never seem to capture the goatiness the way the soft cheeses do. Some may call that an advantage, but not me.

And to Drink

Recently, writing up the 2006 Staffordshire Way walk (as a Covid project) I had cause to mention the Halfpenny Green Wine Estate. Just before this trip I was browsing in Whitebridge Wines in Stone (I have been a customer for a long time - Francis, Kathy and the team deserve a free plug) and came across a bottle of Halfpenny Green late harvest, so I bought it…

Halfpenny Green Late Harvest

…and very good it was too. Lusciously sweet, it is a Huxelrebe/Bacchus blend with the distinctive Huxelrebe dominating. Well chilled it is excellent with blue cheese. Could this ray of sunshine really have been grown in cool, damp Staffordshire? Yes.

Benthall Hall (so good they name it 1½ times)

On Sunday, the actual birthday, we made the short drive to Benthall Hall a couple of miles north of Much Wenlock.

I like the older houses, and this one was built in 1580. It is still occupied by Benthalls, though it has been owned by the National Trust since 1958. Had the family been wealthier they would have torn the house down in the 18th century and replaced it with something grander - as Arthur Weaver did at Morville. They were prosperous enough to keep it though not replace it, inadvertently doing later generations a favour. Unfortunately, they tore down a 12th century manor house to build this, but you can’t keep everything.

Benthall Hall

The house was, of course closed for Covid (partially re-opening on the 17th May 2021) so we missed the wood panelled interior and elaborate 17th century staircase. The gardens were open, though, which suited the birthday girl’s interest (yes, I know she is 40, but she is still my little girl).

The garden is not huge, but it is nicely laid out with flower beds, rockeries, copses and flagged paths wandering through the sort of dark corners that appealed to the younger members of our party.

Acer, cherry tree (lovers of ericaceous soil) and bamboo in the background add a Japanese touch

Despite backing the wrong side in the civil war, the Benthall family hung on to the estate until they ran out of convenient heirs in the early 18th century and the house was sold. The new owner leased the house to tenants, two of whom created the garden

A place to hide, Benthall Hall

George Maw, a pottery manufacturer and crocus enthusiast developed the outline from 1865 onward..

A rather flashy tulip, Benthall Hall

…and Robert Bateman added the rockeries and terraces. Bateman, a painter, sculptor and follower of Edward Burne-Jones enjoyed some success as an artist, but a second generation of pre-Raphaelites was one more than was really needed. Fortunately, he was independently wealthy and devoted himself to philanthropy and horticulture. He was the son of James Bateman who built the larger and even more ambitious gardens at Biddulph Grange in Staffordshire – a place we have visited often, and should perhaps have its own blog post.

Skimmia japonica - further evidence of ericaceous soil

The Benthalls re-acquired the house in 1918 and still live here, though as tenants of the National Trust.

And so our visit to Benthall Hall ended – and so does this post.