The article is in pdf which this blog cannot handle .
So the photographs will be sadly missed .32 men of Honfleur under Pierre de Breze in 1457 and thus carved a memorable scar on theface of Sandwich history.3
David G Jephcott
Military Historian
References:
William Boys, History of Sandwich in Kent (1792)
William Laird Clowes, The Royal Navy, Vol 1, Chapter 11 (1898)
Dorothy Gardiner, Historic Haven: the Story of Sandwich (1954)
William Lambarde, A Perambulation of Kent, 1570
DUTCH DISAPPOINTMENT?
Sandwich, guidebook writers often say, is like a Dutch town. Well, yes and no. Yes, in the
sense that from across the levels from the distance there’s a distinct resemblance. With
its two prominent church towers, and its core still encompassed by medieval defences,
it could be mistaken for one of those gorgeous ancient towns you see in Holland. Come
closer along the road from Ramsgate, half-close your eyes, and you could almost dignify
the tower of St Peter’s with the onion-shaped Dutch-type cupola that some imaginative
illustrators have given it.
But, although it may seem sacrilegious to say so, walk about the town and the ‘Dutch’
vision crumbles. Where are all those crow-step, tumbled and curly gables which are twoa-
penny in towns in the Netherlands? There are hardly any. Admittedly, Manwood Court’s
crow-steps (Fig 1) make a striking impression as you arrive by road from Canterbury, but
where are all the others? There are tumbled gables on Fishergate, there’s a curly gable on
the south side of St Peter’s (Fig 2), and there’s the ‘Old Dutch House’ in King Street (Fig 3),
although it doesn’t look terribly Dutch. Mind you, it does have a curly gable at the back.
FIG 1: Manwood Court’s crow-stepped gables
Photographs: Arthur Percival unless otherwise
indicated
FIG 2: South vestry at St Peter’s church FIG 3: The Old Dutch House,
King Street
3⁹ See The Sandwich Society Journal, Vol 2, No 6, for a full account of the 1457 attack.
33
Dutch bricks? Well, they figure in a handful of properties, but no more. Yes, a house at the
Bay sports curly gables but this is a Cape Dutch job done in the Twentieth century when
Kent-born Sir Herbert Baker (1862-1946) brought the style to Britain - and Cape Dutch,
although related to East Kent ‘Dutch’, is another story.
What a disappointment for visitors looking for the flavour of Holland! There are many
more curly gables in Deal than in Sandwich, as there once were in Ramsgate.
But wait. Perhaps in Sandwich there used to be more? Yes, indeed there were, although
still not enough to give the impression of a Low Countries town. There were three fine
ones on the south side of the Cattle Market (Fig 4), but they have gone. There was also
one by the Guildhall itself, which was used to house smaller animals on market days. It
was a late Victorian building and reflected the then wave of interest among architects
and builders in reviving the East Kent Dutch style (Fig 5).
Still, there never were that many buildings in what we would recognise as a ‘Dutch style’.
All perhaps a bit odd, given that after its harbour had started silting up the town was
given a new lease of life by Protestant refugees (‘strangers’) from the Low Countries, and
that these constituted a substantial ethnic minority. Is there an explanation?
Let’s look at the historical, architectural and topographical background first. To begin
with, the term ‘Dutch’ can be misleading. The refugees came from the whole of the
Netherlands which, in the Sixteenth century, consisted of most of present-day Holland
and Belgium and a chunk of north-eastern France. This had been a possession of the
Dukes of Burgundy from 1385 but became one of Spain when Charles, Duke of Burgundy,
became King of Spain in 1516.
Serious Catholic persecution of Netherlandish Protestants began in 1550 when the
Inquisition was imposed. Although refugees may have begun to arrive in Sandwich
FIG 4: Shaped gables on the south side of the Cattlemarket,
later demolished.
Photograph reproduced with kind permission of Sandwich
Guildhall Archives
FIG 5: Cattle market showing Dutch gabled animal shed to
the right.
Photograph reproduced with kind permission of Ray Dean,
from his Collection
34
earlier, they were officially authorised to settle in the town in 1561. They formed their
own church in the following year, and by 1564 Norwich was trying to lure some of them
away. Their skills were much in demand.
What about their building skills, though?
Many came from towns almost as tightpacked
as Sandwich. Their forebears, like
Sandwich people, had built timber-framed
houses but timber was in shorter supply
in much of the Netherlands than it was
in Kent, and brick (and to a lesser extent
dressed stone) took its place earlier than it
did here (Fig 6).
The practice was to build almost all town houses with their gables facing the street.
Netherlanders liked individuality so, rather than build plain gables, they put up
ornamental ones. At first these were crow-steps, in a style common to much of northwest
Europe, including Scotland and parts of the English east coast. Or, if crow-steps
were too expensive, you could settle for a tumbled gable with muizetanden (mouseteeth
formed by courses of bricks laid at right-angles to the gable-pitch). But then the
Spanish influence kicked in, and Renaissance scrolls and other motifs were added to
create a more exotic outline. In Dutch these were known as halsgevels. These were often
busy with pilasters, string courses, swags and ornamental ovals.
You couldn’t afford these? Then you settled for a simple curvilinear, or ‘shaped’, gable
with the distinctive curly outline we associate with ‘Dutch’ gables in East Kent. Later on,
and finally, the halsgevel was made bolder by eliminating all but one or two of the steps
and string-courses and building the pilasters uninterruptedly from the base to the top of
the gable. This was the baroque gable.
Because so much of the Netherlands is low-lying, and soils are often alluvial, the builders
of these houses took no chances. Instead of waiting for subsidence and then repairing the
resulting damage at great expense, they installed tie-bars (ankers) to clamp walls to beams
from the very start. In keeping with the refined quality of facades, these were of elegant
profile, unlike their crude English counterparts. Soon it dawned on builders that tie-bars need
not be plain. They could also be decorative (sierankers) or informative, or both. Decorative
ones could have scrolls at top and foot. Informative ones could carry the date of the
building (jaartalankers), or the initials of the owner, or both, again beautifully executed.
Prime local examples of jaartalankers are those that date Manwood Court (the former
Sir Roger Manwood Grammar School) to 1564. The building itself is like a hybrid
Netherlandish-English manor house, with crow-step gables from the Low Countries and
hood moulds from England over the first-floor windows.
FIG 6: Models showing the evolution of the Netherlandish
gable
35
Because the soils around Sandwich were similar to those in the low-lying parts of the
Netherlands, and ideal for market gardening, some of the refugees who arrived in the town
took up this line of business. Others doubtless then branched out into larger-scale farming.
Perhaps now it begins to become clear why the town lacks a more prominent architectural
legacy of the Netherlandish settlement that took place here. The settlers had their work
cut out to establish themselves in their new surroundings. This took time. Once they had
set down firm roots, towards the end of the Sixteenth century, they had little need and
hardly any opportunity to build new properties. Most of the town’s houses were then of
recent, or fairly recent, vintage and did not need redeveloping. And in a place so densely
built up, there were few empty building plots. Presumably it was only where there were
really ancient, tumble-down properties that new Netherlandish-style houses, such as
those in the Cattle Market, got built.
In scale and finish these did not match the models they emulated. About one of the
reasons for this we can be sure. Although Dutch bricks were being imported, the builders
- probably Kentish - chose to work with the bricks with which they were familiar. These
were larger than their Netherlandish counterparts so detailing could not be as refined.
As a result East Kent’s ‘Dutch’ houses and gables have a kind of hearty English flavour -
they are bolder, and simpler. And if the builders put up two storeys rather than three or
four, this was probably simply because this was all that need dictated.
Thus it is that Sandwich’s real Netherlandish heritage is not in the town itself but in
villages close by - Ash-next-Sandwich, Minster, Wingham, Woodnesborough and Worth,
for example. Indeed it also radiates from it - up the Stour valley as far as Chilham, in the
Little Stour valley, in the Wantsum valley at Sarre and St Nicholas-at-Wade, at Reading
Street in St Peter’s (Broadstairs) and in villages behind Deal like Great Mongeham and
Ripple (Fig 7). Beyond, there was a fine example in Faversham and another two in nearby
Oare, of which one survives.
These ‘Dutch’ houses are one of the main features that distinguish the extreme east of
Kent from the rest of the county. They have an exotic flavour that reminds us that it
is the part of England closest to the Continent. There must be around two hundred of
them in all, yet though many are prominent in their setting they have never attracted the
attention they deserve, and have never been seen as a ‘family’ by guidebook writers.
Fortunately most have been well cared for by successive owners, but if you are observant
you will notice a few curly gables which have been ignominiously shaved down. You
can usually recognise them because what remains bears other traces of Netherlandish
influence, like decorative or informative tie-bars, string-courses which once linked
steps in the gable, or blind oval recesses which do humble duty for the more elaborate
Netherlandish prototypes.
36
If only to complete the Sandwich settlers’ story, it is worth illustrating some of these
houses. A word of warning, first. Some vernacular architectural historians argue that they
have little to do with refugees from the Netherlands but are simply examples of ‘artisan
mannerism’, typified by elaborate brickwork based on Netherlandish prototypes, which
they say became popular in the early Seventeenth century. This is an argument that can
be persuasive but the jury is still out on it.
The fact is that many or most ‘artisan mannerist’ buildings are on, or close to, England’s
east coast, or easily reached from it by river. You will find them in Suffolk, Norfolk, and as
far up as Newcastle-upon-Tyne. There were a few fine examples close to the Thames in the
London area. In the delightful North Yorkshire village of Cawood, on the Ouse between
Selby and York, you will see several, looking almost as though they had strayed from
the Sandwich area. In some cases the houses may have been put up by Netherlandish
immigrants, or their children or grandchildren; in others, by merchants and skippers
trading with the Netherlands. The well-known, and very striking, ‘Dutch’ houses on The
Strand at Topsham in Devon certainly owe their origin to trade links.
A clinching argument in the case of the ‘Dutch’ houses around Sandwich is that most
have (or had) not only curly gables but such other features as sierankers or jaartalankers
FIG 7: Map showing the influence of Netherlandish vernacular architecture in East Kent
Map reproduced with kind permission of Arthur Percival
37
and blind oval recesses which were simply not features of contemporary native design.
Only the Netherlanders had the helpful habit of dating many of their buildings. Would
that the Brits had too, but perhaps they felt that after fifty years or so a dated house
would seem exactly that - dated - to prospective buyers.
Let’s begin our short tour with the one house in Sandwich that calls itself ‘Dutch’ - the
Old Dutch House in King Street. As already noted, the street facade doesn’t look terribly
Dutch, although it’s undoubtedly exotic, with lots of busy brick detail. It becomes
intelligible only when it is analysed. Four brick pilasters feature prominently. Just below
the eaves they tail off anti-climactically in wedge-shaped caps. No-one can be certain,
but it looks very much as though they once ‘supported’ a curly gable, as similar pilasters
still do at Tudor Manor, Wingham Well.
The facade is symmetrical, and at either end on the ground floor are keystoned arches
whose inspiration is probably Netherlandish. There are similar, but shallower, relieving
arches over the two ground-floor windows. In spaces that would otherwise be blank at
either end of the first floor front, and in its middle, are curious decorations contrived out
of small bricks, perhaps from Holland. These look very much like a Kentish bricklayer’s
ingenious but rather clumsy attempt to reproduce details from a Netherlandish facade.
You can picture him having been shown a rough sketch and trying to copy what he
saw. Some similar details appeared on a house (now a shop) near the station in Preston
Street, Faversham but though the building still stands, its front has been progressively
butchered over the last hundred years.
A house in Delf Street (Fig 8), which was nearly
opposite the present cinema and seems to
have been demolished in the 1930s to make
way for a Co-op store (now car showrooms),
looks as though it had gabled Netherlandish
detailing: certainly it sported sierankers. The
complex facade of The Pellicane in the High
Street still has some detailing which may be
Netherlandish in inspiration.
Perhaps the most convincingly Netherlandsinspired
building close to Sandwich is School
Farm at Guilton (Figs 9-10), at the western end of the original A256 through Ash-next-
Sandwich. From the distance its gables look really exotic. This is because although the
designer could not run to the frills of Low Countries prototypes and was working in
bigger Kentish bricks, he tried to reproduce the characteristic gable outlines by giving
them bulbous contours. He added two tiers of pilasters, supported by string courses, and
incorporated jaartalankers to date his little masterpiece to 1691.
FIG 8: Dutch influence on house in Delf Street
Photograph reproduced with kind permission of Sandwich
Guildhall Archive
38
Not to leave a job half-done, he gave the neat little porch a curly gable, complete with
blind oval recess and sieranker (decorative tie-bar). At this late date the client could not
possibly have been a first-generation immigrant. Perhaps it was a great-grandson or
great-grand-daughter who cherished their Netherlandish roots. After all, most folk of
Continental Protestant descent are still conscious of their antecedents; there wouldn’t
be a thriving Huguenot Society otherwise.
It’s worth noting that in this case the gables don’t face the street, as they would have done
in the Netherlands and did in the case of the Sandwich examples that have been lost, but
are at right-angles to it, on the flanks walls. This way, in their particular setting they are
more conspicuous - no point in taking so much trouble if they were not far-seen.
Nearby, but secluded, is Poulton Manor, Woodnesborough (Figs 11-12). Here a timber-framed
house was transformed by the addition of two large brick wings, with bold curvilinear
gables at both ends of each, not to mention another pilastered gable over the new entrance.
Despite the clash of materials and styles the design outcome is hugely appealing.
FIG 10: Two tiers of pilasters on gable end of
Guilton School Farm
FIG 9: Guilton School Farm, Ash
FIG 11: Rear view, Poulton Farm, Woodnesborough FIG 12: Front view, Poulton Farm, Woodnesborough
39
Tudor Manor at Wingham Well (Figs 13 and 14) has already been mentioned. With its
giant pilasters supporting a curly gable, it comes closest in East Kent to baroque gabled
prototypes in the Netherlands. Winklandoaks Farm at Ripple was probably of similar type
but, if so, has lost its gable. Still in Wingham, along the Staple road are Letterbox Cottages
(Fig 15). No curly gables now but just look at the eastern one. It has a pediment, betraying
that it once had one which has since been shaved down to save on upkeep costs.
Further along the Canterbury road, at Littlebourne, are several curvilinear-gabled
buildings. Most prominent, at the junction with The Green, is the Anchor Inn, with its
gable perhaps designed to attract travellers’ attention. On The Green itself is a picturesque
row of cottages (Figs 16 and 17) with a curly gable at either end, though the one on the
north is now obscured by a Victorian house. (It’s quite common for gables to suffer this
fate: just wander around Middle Street and its many tributaries in Deal, and you will see
several which are now barely visible.)
FIG 13: Tudor Manor, Wingham Well
FIG 14: Gable end at
Tudor Manor,
Wingham Well
FIG 15: Gable end at Letterbox Cottages,
Staple Road, Wingham
FIG 16: Row of cottages on The Green at Littlebourne
FIG 17: South gable meets garage roof at the end
of the row of cottages on The Green
40
The Old Vicarage in Nargate Street (Fig 18) has a curly gable which is double-pedimented, like
those on The Green, but this time there’s also room for a blind oval recess in its apex. There is a
similar recess at the top of one of the chimneys, and a curly-gabled two-storey porch.
The list could go on and on but there is not space
for it here. Suffice it finally to mention Hode Farm at
Patrixbourne (Figs 19 and 20), which sports not just
a curly gable (dated 1674) but also a splendid crowstep
one, perhaps a little older.
One disappointment perhaps is that the East Kent ‘Dutch’
style is not still a feature of the local vernacular. Here in
England in the aftermath of the Modern Movement
architects are wary of designing what their colleagues
might denounce as nostalgic ‘fakes’. Not so in Holland,
where traditional-style buildings are still put up.
In East Kent the Netherlandish influence first began
to be noticed in the late Nineteenth century and the
outcome was that in places like Ickham, Faversham,
Sandwich and Wingham, a few ‘repro’ curly gables
appeared. In Margate the trustees of Draper’s
Almshouses gamely insisted that they appear on new
ranges to match those on the original (1709) one. But
after this - nothing, except recently for a new shop in
The Parade at Canterbury and the addition of curly
gables to a pair of Victorian cottages at Graveney.
It was the late Sir Patrick Abercrombie who inspired
this writer’s interest, stretching back over forty years,
in East Kent’s ‘Dutch’ heritage. In his [Sir Patrick’s] great
1920s pioneering structure plan for the coalfield he
pinpointed it as a topic worth further study. Having
secured his blessing, I dutifully ‘collected’ as many
examples as I could, and looked at the Netherlandish
influence further afield.
However, what I have never had time to do is correlate
the physical evidence with the documentary. In at least
some cases, hopefully, the original title deeds of the
properties concerned will have survived. These could
make rewarding reading. Since they prove title to land,
rather than the structures on it, they seldom record
FIG 18: Gable end of The Old Vicarage,
Nargate Street, Littlebourne
FIG 20: Crow-stepped gable at Hode Farm
FIG 19: Curly gable, dated 1674, at
Hode Farm, Patrixbourne
41
when properties were built, rebuilt or remodelled. They do, however, certainly contain
information about owners and often about tenants and, by implication, may reveal when
important changes took place, referring for example to a ‘new-built messuage’. Is any
Journal reader game for some intensive, but important and rewarding, research?⁴1
Arthur Percival MBE MA DLitt
Honorary Director of the Fleur de Lis Heritage Centre, Faversham and former Sandwich resident
A SIGN OF THE TIMES: CORPORATE GRAFFITI?
You may not have noticed the deterioration of the streets in Sandwich; the methods and
means to bring about this apparent attack on our environment are a part of the faceless
corporate machine that shapes our modern existences. I am talking about the use of
yellow paint and tin-plate signs. I am talking about the growth of ‘corporate graffiti’. If it
didn’t say ‘Bus Stop’ in metre high yellow lettering on the road would you know where the
bus stop was placed? I am sure you would. There is a discrete sign on a pole adjacent to
the pavement where you are standing stating the same in sensible sized writing. We seem
to live in an age now that dictates how we are to live our lives according to a corporate
machine. This machine fails to credit humans with the intelligence to understand issues
or to determine when or not to do something so it puts up big bright signs and lays down
yellow paint saying things like ‘Don’t park here’, ‘No waiting’, ‘Stop’ and ‘Have you paid and
displayed’. Are we now such a simple race of beings that we cannot make decisions for
ourselves? Or is the world becoming more like a dictatorial ‘big brother’ conglomerate
that is curtailing our freedom to do as we wish? I think it is a combination of both.
Our beloved Sandwich, an ancient Cinque port and town of great heritage, is slowly
succumbing to this ‘corporate graffiti’. We have buildings that are mentioned in countless
chronicles and books recounting our town’s great historical and architectural features
yet we allow gaudy yellow lines and tin-plate signs to be painted and erected directly
outside visually sensitive properties. Every year some more yellow lines and tin-plate
signs appear as some new legislation or Government policy comes into force. And
nobody notices or if they do they don’t object because, like street lights and ‘phone
boxes, people think they must be there for a purpose, but are they?
There is obviously a need for some signs to tell us that the building we are parking
outside is a Fire Station or Hospital so it is best to keep the area clear but is there really
a need for yellow and white hatching on the quayside, and other places, which just
constitute a muddled mess and a muddled message? Do we even know what a lot of
these signs and lines mean? Well if we are driving a motor vehicle we should because we
would have to have studied the Highway Code. It quite clearly states where we should
and should not park our vehicles, something on which we should have been tested.
41 If so, contact the Editor!
Military Historian
References:
William Boys, History of Sandwich in Kent (1792)
William Laird Clowes, The Royal Navy, Vol 1, Chapter 11 (1898)
Dorothy Gardiner, Historic Haven: the Story of Sandwich (1954)
William Lambarde, A Perambulation of Kent, 1570
DUTCH DISAPPOINTMENT?
Sandwich, guidebook writers often say, is like a Dutch town. Well, yes and no. Yes, in the
sense that from across the levels from the distance there’s a distinct resemblance. With
its two prominent church towers, and its core still encompassed by medieval defences,
it could be mistaken for one of those gorgeous ancient towns you see in Holland. Come
closer along the road from Ramsgate, half-close your eyes, and you could almost dignify
the tower of St Peter’s with the onion-shaped Dutch-type cupola that some imaginative
illustrators have given it.
But, although it may seem sacrilegious to say so, walk about the town and the ‘Dutch’
vision crumbles. Where are all those crow-step, tumbled and curly gables which are twoa-
penny in towns in the Netherlands? There are hardly any. Admittedly, Manwood Court’s
crow-steps (Fig 1) make a striking impression as you arrive by road from Canterbury, but
where are all the others? There are tumbled gables on Fishergate, there’s a curly gable on
the south side of St Peter’s (Fig 2), and there’s the ‘Old Dutch House’ in King Street (Fig 3),
although it doesn’t look terribly Dutch. Mind you, it does have a curly gable at the back.
FIG 1: Manwood Court’s crow-stepped gables
Photographs: Arthur Percival unless otherwise
indicated
FIG 2: South vestry at St Peter’s church FIG 3: The Old Dutch House,
King Street
3⁹ See The Sandwich Society Journal, Vol 2, No 6, for a full account of the 1457 attack.
33
Dutch bricks? Well, they figure in a handful of properties, but no more. Yes, a house at the
Bay sports curly gables but this is a Cape Dutch job done in the Twentieth century when
Kent-born Sir Herbert Baker (1862-1946) brought the style to Britain - and Cape Dutch,
although related to East Kent ‘Dutch’, is another story.
What a disappointment for visitors looking for the flavour of Holland! There are many
more curly gables in Deal than in Sandwich, as there once were in Ramsgate.
But wait. Perhaps in Sandwich there used to be more? Yes, indeed there were, although
still not enough to give the impression of a Low Countries town. There were three fine
ones on the south side of the Cattle Market (Fig 4), but they have gone. There was also
one by the Guildhall itself, which was used to house smaller animals on market days. It
was a late Victorian building and reflected the then wave of interest among architects
and builders in reviving the East Kent Dutch style (Fig 5).
Still, there never were that many buildings in what we would recognise as a ‘Dutch style’.
All perhaps a bit odd, given that after its harbour had started silting up the town was
given a new lease of life by Protestant refugees (‘strangers’) from the Low Countries, and
that these constituted a substantial ethnic minority. Is there an explanation?
Let’s look at the historical, architectural and topographical background first. To begin
with, the term ‘Dutch’ can be misleading. The refugees came from the whole of the
Netherlands which, in the Sixteenth century, consisted of most of present-day Holland
and Belgium and a chunk of north-eastern France. This had been a possession of the
Dukes of Burgundy from 1385 but became one of Spain when Charles, Duke of Burgundy,
became King of Spain in 1516.
Serious Catholic persecution of Netherlandish Protestants began in 1550 when the
Inquisition was imposed. Although refugees may have begun to arrive in Sandwich
FIG 4: Shaped gables on the south side of the Cattlemarket,
later demolished.
Photograph reproduced with kind permission of Sandwich
Guildhall Archives
FIG 5: Cattle market showing Dutch gabled animal shed to
the right.
Photograph reproduced with kind permission of Ray Dean,
from his Collection
34
earlier, they were officially authorised to settle in the town in 1561. They formed their
own church in the following year, and by 1564 Norwich was trying to lure some of them
away. Their skills were much in demand.
What about their building skills, though?
Many came from towns almost as tightpacked
as Sandwich. Their forebears, like
Sandwich people, had built timber-framed
houses but timber was in shorter supply
in much of the Netherlands than it was
in Kent, and brick (and to a lesser extent
dressed stone) took its place earlier than it
did here (Fig 6).
The practice was to build almost all town houses with their gables facing the street.
Netherlanders liked individuality so, rather than build plain gables, they put up
ornamental ones. At first these were crow-steps, in a style common to much of northwest
Europe, including Scotland and parts of the English east coast. Or, if crow-steps
were too expensive, you could settle for a tumbled gable with muizetanden (mouseteeth
formed by courses of bricks laid at right-angles to the gable-pitch). But then the
Spanish influence kicked in, and Renaissance scrolls and other motifs were added to
create a more exotic outline. In Dutch these were known as halsgevels. These were often
busy with pilasters, string courses, swags and ornamental ovals.
You couldn’t afford these? Then you settled for a simple curvilinear, or ‘shaped’, gable
with the distinctive curly outline we associate with ‘Dutch’ gables in East Kent. Later on,
and finally, the halsgevel was made bolder by eliminating all but one or two of the steps
and string-courses and building the pilasters uninterruptedly from the base to the top of
the gable. This was the baroque gable.
Because so much of the Netherlands is low-lying, and soils are often alluvial, the builders
of these houses took no chances. Instead of waiting for subsidence and then repairing the
resulting damage at great expense, they installed tie-bars (ankers) to clamp walls to beams
from the very start. In keeping with the refined quality of facades, these were of elegant
profile, unlike their crude English counterparts. Soon it dawned on builders that tie-bars need
not be plain. They could also be decorative (sierankers) or informative, or both. Decorative
ones could have scrolls at top and foot. Informative ones could carry the date of the
building (jaartalankers), or the initials of the owner, or both, again beautifully executed.
Prime local examples of jaartalankers are those that date Manwood Court (the former
Sir Roger Manwood Grammar School) to 1564. The building itself is like a hybrid
Netherlandish-English manor house, with crow-step gables from the Low Countries and
hood moulds from England over the first-floor windows.
FIG 6: Models showing the evolution of the Netherlandish
gable
35
Because the soils around Sandwich were similar to those in the low-lying parts of the
Netherlands, and ideal for market gardening, some of the refugees who arrived in the town
took up this line of business. Others doubtless then branched out into larger-scale farming.
Perhaps now it begins to become clear why the town lacks a more prominent architectural
legacy of the Netherlandish settlement that took place here. The settlers had their work
cut out to establish themselves in their new surroundings. This took time. Once they had
set down firm roots, towards the end of the Sixteenth century, they had little need and
hardly any opportunity to build new properties. Most of the town’s houses were then of
recent, or fairly recent, vintage and did not need redeveloping. And in a place so densely
built up, there were few empty building plots. Presumably it was only where there were
really ancient, tumble-down properties that new Netherlandish-style houses, such as
those in the Cattle Market, got built.
In scale and finish these did not match the models they emulated. About one of the
reasons for this we can be sure. Although Dutch bricks were being imported, the builders
- probably Kentish - chose to work with the bricks with which they were familiar. These
were larger than their Netherlandish counterparts so detailing could not be as refined.
As a result East Kent’s ‘Dutch’ houses and gables have a kind of hearty English flavour -
they are bolder, and simpler. And if the builders put up two storeys rather than three or
four, this was probably simply because this was all that need dictated.
Thus it is that Sandwich’s real Netherlandish heritage is not in the town itself but in
villages close by - Ash-next-Sandwich, Minster, Wingham, Woodnesborough and Worth,
for example. Indeed it also radiates from it - up the Stour valley as far as Chilham, in the
Little Stour valley, in the Wantsum valley at Sarre and St Nicholas-at-Wade, at Reading
Street in St Peter’s (Broadstairs) and in villages behind Deal like Great Mongeham and
Ripple (Fig 7). Beyond, there was a fine example in Faversham and another two in nearby
Oare, of which one survives.
These ‘Dutch’ houses are one of the main features that distinguish the extreme east of
Kent from the rest of the county. They have an exotic flavour that reminds us that it
is the part of England closest to the Continent. There must be around two hundred of
them in all, yet though many are prominent in their setting they have never attracted the
attention they deserve, and have never been seen as a ‘family’ by guidebook writers.
Fortunately most have been well cared for by successive owners, but if you are observant
you will notice a few curly gables which have been ignominiously shaved down. You
can usually recognise them because what remains bears other traces of Netherlandish
influence, like decorative or informative tie-bars, string-courses which once linked
steps in the gable, or blind oval recesses which do humble duty for the more elaborate
Netherlandish prototypes.
36
If only to complete the Sandwich settlers’ story, it is worth illustrating some of these
houses. A word of warning, first. Some vernacular architectural historians argue that they
have little to do with refugees from the Netherlands but are simply examples of ‘artisan
mannerism’, typified by elaborate brickwork based on Netherlandish prototypes, which
they say became popular in the early Seventeenth century. This is an argument that can
be persuasive but the jury is still out on it.
The fact is that many or most ‘artisan mannerist’ buildings are on, or close to, England’s
east coast, or easily reached from it by river. You will find them in Suffolk, Norfolk, and as
far up as Newcastle-upon-Tyne. There were a few fine examples close to the Thames in the
London area. In the delightful North Yorkshire village of Cawood, on the Ouse between
Selby and York, you will see several, looking almost as though they had strayed from
the Sandwich area. In some cases the houses may have been put up by Netherlandish
immigrants, or their children or grandchildren; in others, by merchants and skippers
trading with the Netherlands. The well-known, and very striking, ‘Dutch’ houses on The
Strand at Topsham in Devon certainly owe their origin to trade links.
A clinching argument in the case of the ‘Dutch’ houses around Sandwich is that most
have (or had) not only curly gables but such other features as sierankers or jaartalankers
FIG 7: Map showing the influence of Netherlandish vernacular architecture in East Kent
Map reproduced with kind permission of Arthur Percival
37
and blind oval recesses which were simply not features of contemporary native design.
Only the Netherlanders had the helpful habit of dating many of their buildings. Would
that the Brits had too, but perhaps they felt that after fifty years or so a dated house
would seem exactly that - dated - to prospective buyers.
Let’s begin our short tour with the one house in Sandwich that calls itself ‘Dutch’ - the
Old Dutch House in King Street. As already noted, the street facade doesn’t look terribly
Dutch, although it’s undoubtedly exotic, with lots of busy brick detail. It becomes
intelligible only when it is analysed. Four brick pilasters feature prominently. Just below
the eaves they tail off anti-climactically in wedge-shaped caps. No-one can be certain,
but it looks very much as though they once ‘supported’ a curly gable, as similar pilasters
still do at Tudor Manor, Wingham Well.
The facade is symmetrical, and at either end on the ground floor are keystoned arches
whose inspiration is probably Netherlandish. There are similar, but shallower, relieving
arches over the two ground-floor windows. In spaces that would otherwise be blank at
either end of the first floor front, and in its middle, are curious decorations contrived out
of small bricks, perhaps from Holland. These look very much like a Kentish bricklayer’s
ingenious but rather clumsy attempt to reproduce details from a Netherlandish facade.
You can picture him having been shown a rough sketch and trying to copy what he
saw. Some similar details appeared on a house (now a shop) near the station in Preston
Street, Faversham but though the building still stands, its front has been progressively
butchered over the last hundred years.
A house in Delf Street (Fig 8), which was nearly
opposite the present cinema and seems to
have been demolished in the 1930s to make
way for a Co-op store (now car showrooms),
looks as though it had gabled Netherlandish
detailing: certainly it sported sierankers. The
complex facade of The Pellicane in the High
Street still has some detailing which may be
Netherlandish in inspiration.
Perhaps the most convincingly Netherlandsinspired
building close to Sandwich is School
Farm at Guilton (Figs 9-10), at the western end of the original A256 through Ash-next-
Sandwich. From the distance its gables look really exotic. This is because although the
designer could not run to the frills of Low Countries prototypes and was working in
bigger Kentish bricks, he tried to reproduce the characteristic gable outlines by giving
them bulbous contours. He added two tiers of pilasters, supported by string courses, and
incorporated jaartalankers to date his little masterpiece to 1691.
FIG 8: Dutch influence on house in Delf Street
Photograph reproduced with kind permission of Sandwich
Guildhall Archive
38
Not to leave a job half-done, he gave the neat little porch a curly gable, complete with
blind oval recess and sieranker (decorative tie-bar). At this late date the client could not
possibly have been a first-generation immigrant. Perhaps it was a great-grandson or
great-grand-daughter who cherished their Netherlandish roots. After all, most folk of
Continental Protestant descent are still conscious of their antecedents; there wouldn’t
be a thriving Huguenot Society otherwise.
It’s worth noting that in this case the gables don’t face the street, as they would have done
in the Netherlands and did in the case of the Sandwich examples that have been lost, but
are at right-angles to it, on the flanks walls. This way, in their particular setting they are
more conspicuous - no point in taking so much trouble if they were not far-seen.
Nearby, but secluded, is Poulton Manor, Woodnesborough (Figs 11-12). Here a timber-framed
house was transformed by the addition of two large brick wings, with bold curvilinear
gables at both ends of each, not to mention another pilastered gable over the new entrance.
Despite the clash of materials and styles the design outcome is hugely appealing.
FIG 10: Two tiers of pilasters on gable end of
Guilton School Farm
FIG 9: Guilton School Farm, Ash
FIG 11: Rear view, Poulton Farm, Woodnesborough FIG 12: Front view, Poulton Farm, Woodnesborough
39
Tudor Manor at Wingham Well (Figs 13 and 14) has already been mentioned. With its
giant pilasters supporting a curly gable, it comes closest in East Kent to baroque gabled
prototypes in the Netherlands. Winklandoaks Farm at Ripple was probably of similar type
but, if so, has lost its gable. Still in Wingham, along the Staple road are Letterbox Cottages
(Fig 15). No curly gables now but just look at the eastern one. It has a pediment, betraying
that it once had one which has since been shaved down to save on upkeep costs.
Further along the Canterbury road, at Littlebourne, are several curvilinear-gabled
buildings. Most prominent, at the junction with The Green, is the Anchor Inn, with its
gable perhaps designed to attract travellers’ attention. On The Green itself is a picturesque
row of cottages (Figs 16 and 17) with a curly gable at either end, though the one on the
north is now obscured by a Victorian house. (It’s quite common for gables to suffer this
fate: just wander around Middle Street and its many tributaries in Deal, and you will see
several which are now barely visible.)
FIG 13: Tudor Manor, Wingham Well
FIG 14: Gable end at
Tudor Manor,
Wingham Well
FIG 15: Gable end at Letterbox Cottages,
Staple Road, Wingham
FIG 16: Row of cottages on The Green at Littlebourne
FIG 17: South gable meets garage roof at the end
of the row of cottages on The Green
40
The Old Vicarage in Nargate Street (Fig 18) has a curly gable which is double-pedimented, like
those on The Green, but this time there’s also room for a blind oval recess in its apex. There is a
similar recess at the top of one of the chimneys, and a curly-gabled two-storey porch.
The list could go on and on but there is not space
for it here. Suffice it finally to mention Hode Farm at
Patrixbourne (Figs 19 and 20), which sports not just
a curly gable (dated 1674) but also a splendid crowstep
one, perhaps a little older.
One disappointment perhaps is that the East Kent ‘Dutch’
style is not still a feature of the local vernacular. Here in
England in the aftermath of the Modern Movement
architects are wary of designing what their colleagues
might denounce as nostalgic ‘fakes’. Not so in Holland,
where traditional-style buildings are still put up.
In East Kent the Netherlandish influence first began
to be noticed in the late Nineteenth century and the
outcome was that in places like Ickham, Faversham,
Sandwich and Wingham, a few ‘repro’ curly gables
appeared. In Margate the trustees of Draper’s
Almshouses gamely insisted that they appear on new
ranges to match those on the original (1709) one. But
after this - nothing, except recently for a new shop in
The Parade at Canterbury and the addition of curly
gables to a pair of Victorian cottages at Graveney.
It was the late Sir Patrick Abercrombie who inspired
this writer’s interest, stretching back over forty years,
in East Kent’s ‘Dutch’ heritage. In his [Sir Patrick’s] great
1920s pioneering structure plan for the coalfield he
pinpointed it as a topic worth further study. Having
secured his blessing, I dutifully ‘collected’ as many
examples as I could, and looked at the Netherlandish
influence further afield.
However, what I have never had time to do is correlate
the physical evidence with the documentary. In at least
some cases, hopefully, the original title deeds of the
properties concerned will have survived. These could
make rewarding reading. Since they prove title to land,
rather than the structures on it, they seldom record
FIG 18: Gable end of The Old Vicarage,
Nargate Street, Littlebourne
FIG 20: Crow-stepped gable at Hode Farm
FIG 19: Curly gable, dated 1674, at
Hode Farm, Patrixbourne
41
when properties were built, rebuilt or remodelled. They do, however, certainly contain
information about owners and often about tenants and, by implication, may reveal when
important changes took place, referring for example to a ‘new-built messuage’. Is any
Journal reader game for some intensive, but important and rewarding, research?⁴1
Arthur Percival MBE MA DLitt
Honorary Director of the Fleur de Lis Heritage Centre, Faversham and former Sandwich resident
A SIGN OF THE TIMES: CORPORATE GRAFFITI?
You may not have noticed the deterioration of the streets in Sandwich; the methods and
means to bring about this apparent attack on our environment are a part of the faceless
corporate machine that shapes our modern existences. I am talking about the use of
yellow paint and tin-plate signs. I am talking about the growth of ‘corporate graffiti’. If it
didn’t say ‘Bus Stop’ in metre high yellow lettering on the road would you know where the
bus stop was placed? I am sure you would. There is a discrete sign on a pole adjacent to
the pavement where you are standing stating the same in sensible sized writing. We seem
to live in an age now that dictates how we are to live our lives according to a corporate
machine. This machine fails to credit humans with the intelligence to understand issues
or to determine when or not to do something so it puts up big bright signs and lays down
yellow paint saying things like ‘Don’t park here’, ‘No waiting’, ‘Stop’ and ‘Have you paid and
displayed’. Are we now such a simple race of beings that we cannot make decisions for
ourselves? Or is the world becoming more like a dictatorial ‘big brother’ conglomerate
that is curtailing our freedom to do as we wish? I think it is a combination of both.
Our beloved Sandwich, an ancient Cinque port and town of great heritage, is slowly
succumbing to this ‘corporate graffiti’. We have buildings that are mentioned in countless
chronicles and books recounting our town’s great historical and architectural features
yet we allow gaudy yellow lines and tin-plate signs to be painted and erected directly
outside visually sensitive properties. Every year some more yellow lines and tin-plate
signs appear as some new legislation or Government policy comes into force. And
nobody notices or if they do they don’t object because, like street lights and ‘phone
boxes, people think they must be there for a purpose, but are they?
There is obviously a need for some signs to tell us that the building we are parking
outside is a Fire Station or Hospital so it is best to keep the area clear but is there really
a need for yellow and white hatching on the quayside, and other places, which just
constitute a muddled mess and a muddled message? Do we even know what a lot of
these signs and lines mean? Well if we are driving a motor vehicle we should because we
would have to have studied the Highway Code. It quite clearly states where we should
and should not park our vehicles, something on which we should have been tested.
41 If so, contact the Editor!
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