The Evelyns at Wotton
It has been well observed of the Evelyn family, that “rarely do we read of people who so admirably combined a love of rural life with literature.” Studious retirement, not isolation, was what John Evelyn sought; and nowhere did he so delightfully enjoy his tastes as at Wotton House or Place in Surrey. This “great Virtuoso,” as Aubrey called him, has left us the following account of his family, and of their first settlement at Wotton:—“We have not been at Wotton (purchased of one Owen, a great rich man) above 160 years. My great grandfather came from Long Ditton (the seat now of Sir Edward Eveylin), where we had been long before; and to Long Ditton from Harrow-on-the-Hill; and many years before that, from Evelyn, near Tower Castle, Shropshire. There are of our name in France and Italy, written Ivelyn, Avelin: and in old deeds I find Avelyn, alias Evelyn. One of our name was taken prisoner at the battle of Agincourt. When the Duchess of Orleans came to Dover to see the King [Charles II.], one of our name (whose family derives itself from Lusignan, king of Cyprus) claimed relation to us. We have in our family a tradition of a great sum of money, that had been given for the ransom of a French lord, with which a great estate was purchased; but these things are all mystical.”
Wotton House, placed in a valley south-west of Dorking, though really upon a part of Leith Hill, was first erected in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. Here, on October 31, 1620, was born John Evelyn, “Sylva Evelyn,” as he was called from the title of his valuable work on Forest-trees. When four years old, he was taught at the porch of Wotton Church. He then learnt Latin in a school at Lewes; whence his father proposed to send him to Eton, but he was terrified at the reported severity of the discipline there, and he was again sent to Lewes, which he “afterwards a thousand times deplored.” In 1636 he was admitted to the Middle Temple; whence he removed to Balliol College, Oxford. He returned to London in 1640; but on the death of his father he relinquished all thoughts of legal practice.
Mr. Evelyn, thus become his own master, purposed a life of studious seclusion, and actually commenced making a kind of hermitage at Wotton, at that period the seat of his eldest brother. The park is watered by a winding stream, and is backed by a magnificent range of beech-woods: the goodly oaks were cut down by John Evelyn’s grandfather, and birch has taken the place of beech in many cases; but we trace to this day Evelyn’s hollies, “a viretum all the year round;” and the noble planting of the author of Sylva, who describes the house as “large and ancient, suitable to those hospitable times, and so sweetly environed with delicious streams and venerable woods. It has rising grounds, meadows, woods, and water in abundance.... I should speak much of the gardens, fountains, and groves that adorne it, were they not generally known to be amongst the most natural (until this later and universal luxury of the whole nation, since abounding in such expenses), the most magnificent that England afforded, and which, indeed, gave one of the first examples of that elegancy since so much in vogue, and followed in the managing of their waters, and other ornaments of that nature.”
Evelyn, by whom, in his brother’s lifetime, the chief improvements in these grounds were directed, thus speaks of their origin in his Diary, under the date 1643, after the disastrous contest had commenced between the King and the Parliament:—“Resolving to possess myself in some quiet, if it might be, in a time of so great jealousy, I built, by my brother’s permission, a study, made a fish-pond, and an island, and some other solitudes and retirements at Wotton; which gave the first occasion to those water-works and gardens which afterwards succeeded them.”
Further alterations were made in 1652, and are thus described:—“I went with my brother Evelyn to Wotton to give him what directions I was able about his garden, which he was now desirous to put into some forme; but for which he was to remove a mountaine overgrowne with huge trees and thicket, with a moate within ten yards of the house. This my brother immediately attempted, and that without greate coste; for more than a hundred yards south, by digging down the mountaine, and flinging it into a rapid streame, it not only carried away the sand, &c., but filled up the moate, and levelled that noble area, where now the garden and fountaine is.”
In 1641, Evelyn, tired of this seclusion, made a tour in France and the Netherlands, in which he appears to have gathered from observation such knowledge of Gardening as led him into its systematic study. He describes the Tuileries as rarely contrived for privacy, shade, or company; and he specially describes a labyrinth of cypress, with an artificial echo, “redoubling the words distinctly, and never without some fair nymph singing to it.” “Standing at one of the focuses, which is under a tree, or little cabinet of hedges, the voice seems to descend from the clouds; at another, as if it was underground.” He tells us, too, of the curious garden of the Archbishop of Paris, at St. Cloud, with a Mount Parnassus, and a grotto, or “shell-house,” on the top of the hill, the walls painted with the Muses, many statues placed about it, and within, “divers water-works, and contrivances to wet the spectators,” reminding one of the famous copper-tube willow-tree at Chatsworth. Evelyn speaks of the Luxembourg Gardens as a paradise, where the Duke of Orleans kept tortoises in great numbers. The young traveller was charmed with the gardens of Italy; and at Padua he bought, for winter provision, three thousand weight of grapes, and pressed his own wine, which proved excellent.
Faithful to the Crown, Mr. Evelyn (who had become a volunteer in an English regiment serving in Flanders) joined the King’s army at Brentford; but that he had not the temperament of a hero we may judge from the fact that, on the day before the battle of Edgehill was fought, after seeing Portsmouth delivered up to Sir William Waller, “he was able to make a careful archæological survey of the city of Winchester, calmly noting its castle, church, school, and King Arthur’s Round Table.” Knowing this characteristic trait, we are not surprised that he left his distracted country for the pleasures of foreign travel. On returning from Italy he visited Paris, and at the English Embassy met his future wife, the daughter of the Ambassador, Sir Richard Browne. He married her when she was little more than fourteen, and some months afterwards left her, as he admits, “still very young,” under the appropriate care of her mother, whilst he transacted business in England. The Prince de Condé besieged Paris, and a year and a half elapsed before Evelyn rejoined his wife.
Upon their return to England, they took up their abode at Sayes Court, the property of Sir Richard Browne, whose estate had been considerably curtailed during the Commonwealth. It was wholly unadorned. Here, from a field of one hundred acres in pasture, Evelyn formed a garden, which was an exemplar of his Sylva, with a hedge of holly, 400 feet long, 9 feet high, and 5 feet thick. He began immediately to set out an oval garden, which was “the beginning of all the succeeding gardens, walks, groves, enclosures, and plantations there;” and he planted an orchard, “new moon, wind west.” Evelyn next planned a royal garden to comprehend “knots, trayle-work, parterres, compartments, borders, banks, and embossments, labyrinths, dedals, cabinets, cradles, close-walks, galleries, pavilions, porticoes, lanterns, and other relievos of topiary and hortular architecture; fountains, cascades, piscines, rocks, grotts, cryptæ, mounts, precipices, and ventiducts; gazon-theatres, artificial echoes, automate and hydraulic music.”
When Evelyn left Sayes to pass the remainder of his days at Wotton, he let the former estate, first to Admiral Benbow, and next to the Czar Peter, to be near the King’s dockyard, (through the wall of which a doorway was broken), that he might learn shipbuilding, but the Czar and his retinue damaged the house and gardens to the extent of 150l. in three weeks. A portion of the Victualling-yard now occupies the place of Evelyn’s shady walks and trim hedges; on the site of the manor-house stands the parish workhouse of Dieptford and Stroud; and an adjoining thoroughfare is named Evelyn-street.
Evelyn may have been misled in ornamental gardening by the taste of his age, but there was nothing to mislead him in that useful branch of the art which supplies the table with its luxuries, and which in his time received considerable improvement. Here we may mention that in 1664 Evelyn published the first Gardeners’ Almanack, containing directions for the employment of each month. This was dedicated to Cowley, and drew from him, in acknowledgment, one of his best pieces, entitled The Garden; in the prefix to which he says:—“I never had any other desire so strong, and so like to covetousness, as that one which I have had always, that I might be master at last of a small house and large garden, with very moderate conveniences joined to them, and there dedicate the remainder of my life only to the culture of them, and the study of nature.”
In 1694, Mr. Evelyn went to Wotton, with his brother George. In 1696-7, he says:—“I am planting an evergreen grove here to an old house ready to drop.” In the great storm of 1703, above 2,000 goodly oaks were blown down. The woods of Wotton have since suffered greatly from high winds, particularly in November 1837, when many hundred trees were laid low during a violent storm.
In his Sylva, Evelyn thus deplores the former devastation: “Methinks that I still hear, sure I am that I feel, the dismal groans of our forests, when that late dreadful Hurricane, happening on the 26th of November, 1703, subverted as many thousands of goodly Oaks, prostrating the trees, laying them in ghastly postures, like whole regiments fallen in battle by the sword of the conqueror, and crushing all that grew beneath them. Myself had 2,000 blown down; several of which, torn up by their fall, raised mounds of earth, near 20 feet high, with great stones intangled among the roots and rubbish, and this almost within sight of my dwelling;—now no more Wotton [Wood-town], stripped and naked, and almost ashamed to own its name.”
In the Diary, the same calamity is thus noticed: “The effects of the Hurricane and tempest of wind, rain, and lightning thro’ all the nation, especially London, were very dismal. Many houses demolished, and people killed. As to my own losses, the submersion of woods and timber, both ornamental and valuable, through my whole estate, and about my house, the woods crowning the garden mount, and growing along the Park meadow, the damage to my own dwelling, farms, and outhouses, is almost tragical, not to be parallel’d with anything happening in our age. I am not able to describe it, but submit to the pleasure of Almighty God.”
Notwithstanding these losses, Evelyn’s brother would not depart from the œconomy and hospitality of the old house, but, “more veterum, kept a Christmas in which they had not fewer than 300 bumpkins every holiday.”
We find recorded among the Curiosities of the place, an oaken plank “of prodigious amplitude,” cut out of a tree which grew on this estate, and was felled by Evelyn’s grandfather’s orders. Its dimensions, when “made a pastry-board” at Wotton, were more than five feet in breadth, nine feet and a half in length, and six inches in thickness; and it had been “abated by one foot,” to suit it to the size of the room wherein it was placed.
Upon the death of his brother, in 1699, without any surviving male issue, John Evelyn became possessor of the paternal estates. Wotton House, built of fine red brick, has been enlarged by various members of the Evelyn family. Hence the absence of uniformity in the plan of the house, and within our recollection it has parted with many of its olden features. The apartments are, however, convenient, and realize the comforts of an English gentleman’s proper house and home. An etching by John Evelyn shows the mansion in 1653.
Through the valley at Wotton winds a rivulet which was formerly of much importance. Evelyn, in a letter to Aubrey, dated 8th of February, 1675, says that “on the stream near his house formerly stood many powder-mills, erected by his ancestors, who were the very first that brought that invention into England; before which we had all our powder from Flanders.” He gives an account of one of these mills blowing up, which broke a beam, fifteen inches in diameter, at Wotton Place; and states that one standing lower down towards Sheire, on blowing up, “shot a piece of timber through a cottage, which took off a poor woman’s head, as she was spinning.” Besides these mills, were brass, fulling, and hammering mills.
The Evelyns possess much land in the adjoining parish of Abinger; and the seat of the Scarletts, Abinger Hall, gave the title to Lord Chief Baron Scarlett. Originally, it was a small dwelling at the foot of the Downs, belonging to the Dibble family, of whom it was purchased in the reign of George II. by Catherine Forbes, Countess of Donegal, who was the daughter of Arthur, Earl of Granard, and had the honour of being complimented by Dean Swift, in the following lines:—
“Unerring Heaven, with bounteous hand,
Has form’d a Model for your Land,
Whom Love bestow’d, with every grace,
The glory of the Granard race;
Now destined by the powers Divine
The blessing of another Line.
Then, would you paint a matchless Dame,
Whom you’d consign to endless fame,
Invoke not Cytherea’s aid,
Nor borrow from the Blue-eyed Maid,
Nor need you on the Graces call;
Take qualities from Donegal.”
Abinger Church is of considerable antiquity, and has a higher site than any other church in the county: indeed, Aubrey conjectures the parish to be named from Abin, an eminence, or rising ground. The church was carefully restored in 1857. The west end is of the Norman period; the nave Early English; the altar has sedilia, and formerly had a piscina; and on the north side is a chancel belonging to the Wotton estate, and restored at the expense of Mr. Evelyn: here is a small organ. The altar-window of three lights has been filled with painted glass by O’Connor, a very meritorious work. In the churchyard in a vault are interred Lord Chief Baron Abinger, and his first wife: to the latter there is a marble monument on the inner wall of the chancel. His Lordship married secondly the widow of the Rev. Henry John Ridley, a descendant of Bishop Ridley, the Protestant martyr; and among the relics of that devout churchman which descended to Lady Abinger, was the chair in which the Bishop used to study.
On the east side of the churchyard is a small green, on which are stocks and a whipping-post; but these, to the honour of the parish, are believed never to have been used.
There was a Mill at Abinger at the time of the Domesday Survey; and it is not improbable that the present corn and flour mill, at a short distance from the road, may occupy the same site. To return to Wotton House.
The interior of the old place, with its oddly-planned rooms, its quaint carvings, its pictures, more especially the portraits of the Evelyn family, is a most enjoyable nook. The author of Sylva, by Kneller, will be recognised as the original of the engraved frontispiece to Evelyn’s Diary, by economy of printing now become a household book. Among the Wotton relics, of special historic interest, are the Prayer-book used by Charles I. on the scaffold; a pinch of the powder laid by Guido Fawkes and his fellow-conspirators to blow up the Parliament; a curious account, in John Evelyn’s hand, of the mode in which the Chancellor Clarendon transacted business with his royal master; several letters of John Evelyn, and his account (recently found) of the expense of his building Milton House, which occupied four years: the house remains to this day. The library of printed books and pamphlets is curious and extensive. Evelyn was a most laborious annotator, never employing an amanuensis: among his MSS. is a Bible in three volumes, the margins filled with closely-written notes.
John Evelyn died at his house (called the Head) in Dover-street, Piccadilly, Feb. 27, 1705-6. His remains were interred in Wotton Church: his lady surviving him until 1708-9; when, dying, in her seventy-fourth year, she was buried near him in the chancel. It was Evelyn’s wish to have been interred in the Laurel Grove, planted by him at Wotton: this wish was expressed in his Will: “otherwise,” he says, “let my grave be in the Corner of the Dormitory of my Ancestors.” This was done; and in digging the new Vault was found “an entire skeleton, of gigantick stature.”
In all the characters of child, wife, mother, and mistress, Mrs. Evelyn, quiet and unassuming as she was, shone forth pre-eminently. Her trials were many and heavy; her heart was torn with the death of child after child, some in infancy, some in ripe age when they had grown to be the pride and stay of their parents. All died, one by one, out of that numerous progeny, till only a daughter, Mrs. Draper, was left, and the bereaved pair were alone in their old age in the wide old mansion at Wotton. Nothing can exceed the touching pathos of those few words in Mrs. Evelyn’s will, where, after desiring that her coffin might be placed near to that of her dear husband, whose death preceded hers by three years, she adds:—“Whose love and friendship I was happy in, fifty-eight years nine months; but by God’s providence left a desolate widow, the 27th day of February, 1705, in the seventy-first year of my age.”
Mrs. Evelyn had acquired the more polished manners of French society without losing her naturally simple tastes. That she cannot have formed a favourable opinion of English refinement we know from the contrast which her husband draws between the two countries in his Characters of England, written when they returned from the Continent.
Mrs. Evelyn was an experienced housewife, and had a special eye “to the care of cakes, stilling, and sweetmeats, and such useful things.” “The hospitality of Sayes Court, which was accepted by royalty and extended to savans, divines, and men of letters, was not withheld from the country neighbours at Deptford.” Certainly, her own words depict her practice, for she considered “the care of children’s education, observing a husband’s commands, assisting the sick, relieving the poor, and being serviceable to her friends, of sufficient weight to employ the most improved capacities.” That Mrs. Evelyn had close insight into character and great nicety of judgment, we learn from her contemporaries, as also that her “great discernment and wit” were never abused. Ever sedate and kindly, she bore a succession of family bereavements with Christian resignation.
At Wotton, many curious memorials remain. Adjacent to the house are the conservatory, flower-garden, the former stored with curious exotic and native plants and flowers, and the latter embellished with a fountain, a temple, or colonnade, and an elevated turfed mount, cut into terraces; and here, enclosed within a brick wall, is all that remains of Evelyn’s flower-garden, which was to have formed one of the principal objects in his “Elysium Britannicum.” His Diary is well known; and his Sylva is a beautiful and enduring memorial of his amusements, his occupations, and his studies, his private happiness and his public virtues. Many millions of timber-trees have been propagated and planted at the instigation and by the sole direction of that book—one of the few books in the world which completely effected what it was designed to do. While Britain [says D’Israeli the elder] retains her awful situation among the nations of Europe, the Sylva of Evelyn will endure with her triumphant oaks. It was an author in his studious retreat, who, casting a prophetic eye on the age we live in, secured the late victories of our naval sovereignty. Inquire at the Admiralty how the fleets of Nelson have been constructed, and they can tell you that it was with the oaks which the genius of Evelyn planted.
Persons who are familiar with the picturesque environs of Dorking will remember Milton House, which was built at Evelyn’s expense. It is now called Milton Court, and is about a mile west of the town. It is of red brick, and has a grand staircase with massive supports and balusters, a great hall, and many noble rooms. The house was let some years since in tenements to poor families. It has since been restored and furnished in the style of the period. Its history has a literary interest. For nearly a quarter of a century it was the abode of Jeremiah Markland, a model critic “for modesty, candour, literary honesty, and courteousness to other scholars.” He will be remembered as one of the eminent Grecians of Christ’s Hospital. He lived in bachelorship at Milton Court, among his books; or, as his pupil, Strode, tells us, “In 1752, being grown old, and having, moreover, long and painful fits of the gout, he was glad to find, what his inclination and infirmities, which made him unfit for the world and company, had for a long time led him to—a very private place of retirement, near Dorking, in Surrey.” In this sequestered spot Markland saw little company: his walks were almost confined to the garden at the back of the house; and he described himself, in 1755, to be “as much out of the way of hearing as of getting.” We have more than once enjoyed the elysium of the old scholar’s garden. But troubles came to disturb his peace. Markland had not the rambling old house to himself. His landlady, the widow Rose, got into a lawsuit with her son, when Jeremiah distressed himself to aid the widow in the suit, which she lost; and after that Markland spent his whole fortune in relieving the distresses of the Rose family. This led him to accept an annuity from his former pupil, Strode. Markland died at Milton Court in 1776, in his eighty-third year; and Strode placed a brass plate in the chancel of Dorking Church in memory of the learning and virtue of Markland. He left his books and papers to Dr. Heberden. The story of old Jeremiah’s charity is very naïve:—“Poor as I am,” said he, “I would rather have pawned the coat on my back than have left the afflicted good woman and her children to starve,”—an episode of charity and friendship which has its sweet uses.
There are two ancient objects at Milton. The water-mill, adjoining the green, is believed to be that mentioned in the survey of the manor, in Domesday book; and on Milton-heath, upon an elevated spot, is a Tumulus, now distinguished by a clump of firs; and near it is War-field. The name of the adjoining estate, Bury Hill, makes us, as Miss Hawkins observes, “seek, in our walks, the very footmarks of the Roman soldier.”