Reflections on Rye

Prodigal Wife found this beautiful photo of Rye at PublicDomainePictures.net, and it made me grin like a happy giraffe! At the end of the street is Lamb House, once the home of E.F. Benson (and Henry James before him)—better known as Mallards to millions of Mapp and Lucia fans like myself. Looking up at the conservatory, I so easily imagine Lucia spying on her neighbors from her music room. And one of the lovely cottages on the right must be George's home, before he became Lucia's husband (in name only, of course). Perhaps the one with the charming pink roses?

Roast beef on ...?

The town of Sandwich was first recorded in the seventh century and had Saxon origins, though many believe it was settled much earlier. The name was derived from the Place of Sand, but it was the origin of the edible sandwich that intrigued us most. It all started in the mid-eighteenth century. The illustrious Earl of Sandwich, in order to continue gambling and, presumably, not break a winning streak, called for beef to be placed between two slices of bread so he could eat without getting gravy on his playing cards or ruffled shirt sleeves. Thus a new dish was created. Ironically, the earls of Sandwich had no real connection to the town. The first earl, Edward Montagu, only took the title of Earl of Sandwich because his fleet docked at Sandwich prior to sailing for France to pick up King Charles the Second and return him to the throne of England. Montagu could just as easily taken his title from another town along the coast.
“Anyone for a roast beef portsmouth?” I asked.
We thought about it for a moment; it did not sound as strange as I expected.
“Could work,” said Frances. “Although roast beef ‘rye’ would be better.”
“Rye! Yes. Clever. Very.” I smiled.

Of smugglers, real and fictional

The Mermaid was replete with secret passageways, a hide-out for contraband and a meeting place for smugglers! According to the walking guide Frances had picked up at the hotel, as Rye’s importance as a seafaring port diminished, its importance as a smuggler’s haven increased. The notorious Hawkhurst Gang used to hang out at the Inn, no doubt sipping their illicit contraband while keeping a watchful eye out for revenue officers. However, the hostelry’s most famous smuggler was fictional, Thorndike’s Doctor Syn, the vicar of Dymchurch! Frances rolled her eyes as I again rambled on about all his yarns, many of which featured Rye’s Mermaid Inn. For me, those fictional memories were suddenly anchored in reality.

Roast beef portsmouth, anyone?

On the ride back to Deal, Lew read snippets from the pamphlet Frances had picked up. The town of Sandwich was first recorded in the seventh century and had Saxon origins, though many believe it was settled much earlier. The name was derived from the Place of Sand, but it was the origin of the edible sandwich that intrigued us most. It all started in the mid-eighteenth century. The illustrious Earl of Sandwich, in order to continue gambling and, presumably, not break a winning streak, called for beef to be placed between two slices of bread so he could eat without getting gravy on his playing cards or ruffled shirt sleeves. Thus a new dish was created.
Ironically, the earls of Sandwich had no real connection to the town. The first one, Edward Montagu, only took the title because his fleet docked at Sandwich prior to sailing for France to pick up King Charles the Second and return him to the throne of England. Montagu could just as easily taken his title from another town along the coast.
“Anyone for a roast beef portsmouth?” I asked.
We thought about it for a moment; it did not sound as strange as I expected.
“Could work,” said Frances. “Although roast beef ‘rye’ would be better.”
“Rye! Yes. Clever. Very.” I smiled.

Deux, trois, quatre... "sink"?

I explained to Frances that the “Cinque Ports” were, originally, a cluster of five ports dotting the south coast of England, established and reinforced by the Plantagenet kings in the thirteenth century to protect the realm from sneaky and persistent French attacks. The ruling class in those days, descended from William the Conqueror, spoke mostly French, and “cinque” had been derived from the French word for “five.” Even so, no attempt at French pronunciation was ever made or even countenanced. It just wouldn’t be cricket.
“So a ‘cinque’ port becomes a ‘sink’ port? That’s odd,” said Frances.
“Odd? Doesn’t sound odd to me! English pronunciation of French – get it?”

Only in England...

Shelley, the wry churchwarden of St. Mary's , is pretty sure that only in Rye would a sitting mayor have been allowed to put his little dog into a church's stained glass window--front and center, no less! Of course, we're talking about E.F. Benson, author of Prodigal favorite, Mapp and Lucia, who, when he was mayor of Rye, had his black dog Taffy immortalized in the newly redesigned West Window. The chap in red in the bottom right corner represents the author in his mayoral robes, perhaps begging forgiveness for his irreverence.

A new Mapp and Lucia book!

I have just discovered that a new Mapp and Lucia book was recently released. No, no, obviously not by the illustrious (and deceased) E.F. Benson, but by English author Guy Fraser-Sampson, who has channeled the outrageous Major Benjy for a series of new adventures as twisty as the streets of Rye. Captain Puffin can't be far behind—fingers crossed!
Now, I haven't read it yet (I've left Prodigal Wife a hint regarding my upcoming birthday), but this sounds like a worthy addition to a great canon of comic literature. I believe the story unfolds while Miss Mapp holds reign in Tilling.
For any Luciaphiles out there, Major Benjy is available at Amazon and Amazon UK.
Qui-hi!

Hunting for Mallards'

A notable writer who set his novels in Rye was E.F. Benson. He lived just at the top of Mermaid Street, in Lamb House, renamed Mallards in his Mapp and Lucia novels. Here, Queen Lucia held reign. The streets and settings were all unchanged by time, just as Benson described them. I counted houses to where Georgie Pillson would have lived before he became – in name only – Lucia’s husband. I picked out the places where my favorite characters had done their marketing. The street corners where they sniped and spied and gently but cruelly admonished one another, scoring points where they could, forming alliances and fighting social battles much to the delight of generations of fans.

"More love from across the Briney"

Cousin Kevin was tickled we posted his photo of Chertsey Bridge so he sent on this lovely shot of the Cinque (that's pronounced "sink") port of Rye. Frances and I loved Rye, where we had the best meal we've ever had in Old Blighty. Of course, that's where we met a nutter in a graveyard, but that's for another time.
If you have a photo of England you'd like to share, email us and we may post it with a link back to your blog. No links for Cousin Kevin--he's waiting for the book to come out for his fifteen minutes of fame!