Templa Quam Delecta: Stowe Gardens

I was puzzled. Why temples? Temples to friendship, ancient virtue, concord and victory - all wonderful things, to be sure, but why fill your garden with temples to them? Was it merely that ancient Greece happened to be in vogue? Did they make useful places to sit down as you roamed the many landscaped acres? Or was there some other reason?

As I scanned the Wikipedia article, (which, by the way, has more information than you'll ever want to know about Stowe), this line caught my eye: "...below which is the Temple family motto TEMPLA QUAM DELECTA (How Beautiful are thy Temples)."

The Temple family. Aha. Light dawned.

We had stopped at Stowe Gardens on the way back from my parents' house. It is only a short distance from our usual route, and moreover, owned by the National Trust, so our membership entitled us to free entry. A quick lunch break on a sunny bench fueled us up for the half-mile walk to the gardens. Toby and Theo raced each other on the gravel path, and paused to investigate berries, sticks and duckweed-smothered ponds. We passed the ha-ha and entered the world of temples.

Stowe House was certainly built for grand effect. The south front is a great pile of steps, columns, urns, balustrades and general neoclassical glory, all overlooking a sweep of striped lawn sloping down to a reed-fringed lake. The grounds were designed to walk around; as you circle the lakes temples pop out of the trees, and views open up before you. There are plenty of bridges to hang over, nooks to explore, and arches to pose in front of.

The house is now a school. The founder was of the opinion that boys responded well to being educated in beautiful surroundings - which, once you get past the inverse-snobbery of, "Who has enough money to send their child to a place like this?", is probably quite true. If only every student had the opportunity. The Stowe House Trust offers tours of the house, although we decided against it on this occasion. Toby was sorely disappointed; I appreciated (with some frustration) the irony of my four-year-old crying because we were not touring a stately home.

He was comforted by finding "the biggest pumpkin ever" in the kitchen garden next to the New Inn, now the National Trust visitor centre. On that more homely note, we left the grandness of Stowe and its temples, and headed back to our more humble residence.

Comments

Mr White Watson of Bakewell

Once upon a time, back in 1795 or so, lived a man who was always asking questions. The kind of questions like, "Why is glass transparent?" or "Why do fruit trees grow better in that place than in this place?" or "What does the earth look like underneath the surface?" This last question was one that he was particularly interested in, and he went so far as to work out what the rock layers looked like where he lived, and draw little pictures of them. Now he was a marble sculptor by trade (as well as fossil hunter, mineral seller, and a few other things) so he thought it would be even better to make his little pictures in stone. That way he could represent the layers using the actual rocks they were composed of. Over the course of his lifetime he made almost 100 of these tablets, as he called them. Then he died. And no one else was quite as interested in all those rocks and minerals as he was. His collection was sold off, bit by bit, and the table...

The Imitation of Christ: Spiritual Formation Book 2

"This is my hope, my only consolation, to flee unto thee in every tribulation, to trust in thee, to call upon thee from my heart, and to wait patiently for thy consolation." The second of my four books for spiritual formation is The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. The introduction to my copy starts off by saying that 21st century readers may wonder why they are bothering, which hardly seems like a recommendation! I have to admit I finished it with a certain sense of relief, but there were some hidden gems along the way. It's rather like reading the book of Proverbs. There's no story or explanation of a theme, but there are astute observations, honest prayers, the occasional flash of humour, and quite a lot of repetition. Thomas à Kempis was a priest in an Augustinian monastery in the 1400s. Presumably his life conditions favoured the silence and solitude that he advocates for in The Imitation of Christ , but also gave him opp...

Erewash Valley Trail: Bennerley Viaduct and Great Northern Basin

Once again, Monday was grey and overcast. So you've got a set of photos of Bennerley Viaduct looking moody and menacing rather than bright and shiny. Last time I went there, it rained. I really will have to see it in the sunshine one day. The viaduct car park is a short distance down the Nottingham Canal. This section was set up for intensive angling; there were wooden fishing platforms every few steps. I don't know what the green bags were for. Bennerley Viaduct came into view over the hedge. This immense wrought iron structure once carried the Friargate line over the River Erewash, two canals, and another railway. Now it stands forlornly in a ravaged landscape which used to be an opencast coal mine. That it still stands at all is amazing, though; it's one of only two wrought iron viaducts left in the country. Since 2022, Bennerley has been open to walkers and cyclists, and a new access ramp has just been built at the eastern end. The visitor centre is still under constru...

Martha's Marvellous Munchies

Search This Blog