Grittleton

The walk

The shape of this walk is a lower-case “d” – which does mean covering the same ground at the end as was covered at the start.  Perhaps that’s a bit of a cheat on the claim to be a “circular” walk. In addition, it’s a walk that does not offer much in terms of landscape. And neither does it compensate by allowing an episode of vigorous exercise. These failings arise from the flatness of the countryside and the paved surfaces that make up much of the route.

Don’t be discouraged though. Sometimes it’s a flat and firm-under-foot walk that is needed – perhaps when the climate is wet and muddy and the appetite for exercise is more fresh-air than stiles and slopes. Moreover, although there is a fair bit of road/lane surface on the route, there is relatively little traffic, and the grass verges are generous [C].

Of course, there is also the matter of the M4 motorway: it bisects this route. However, the dramatic moment of looking down onto six lanes of traffic may compensate for this flat landscape by infusing it with a little more contrasting charm. Besides, the motors are well concealed and neither their sight nor their sound is actually much of a disturbance. So the pleasure of this walk is more an invitation to reflect on the history of this place – particularly on how the architecture here has a certain coherence. This is due to the influence of Joseph Neeld on the village and its surrounds. In relation to which, read on…

The village

There is something about the name of this village that is unattractive. Originally (in the Anglo-Saxon era), it was known as Gretelintone – from which it has mutated numerous times finally to become “Grittleton”.  Its origin has something to do with gravel. No mining is evident today though; the present village is just a string of houses forming an L-shaped ribbon at the intersection of Alderton Road and The Street. The surrounding roads are quiet. So much so that it’s hard to tell from a map where any passing traffic might be going – although the roads do link together a number of small Wiltshire villages.  

There is a church, a village hall, a cricket ground, a pub (once the Red Lion, controversially renamed the Neeld Arms in 1944) and a large manor house. It is the manor house that dominates the village. The Lords of Wiltshire manors tended to locate their estate staff at a polite distance. Not in this case. Grittleton’s estate housing was made adjacent to the manor and became all of a single architectural piece with the estate.

The church is pleasing, although with no striking features.  It has a 13^th century core and a perpendicular era tower (with bells), but it is mainly Victorian-restored. The churchyard is pleasant. Behind it there is an interesting 18^th century rectory (Church House) – now privately owned and most recently valued at around £5m.

Joseph Neeld

What is intriguing about Grittleton (and some of its neighbouring villages) resides in the story of one man: namely a Bristol solicitor, Joseph Neeld (1789-1856). It is a story that might usefully guide your eye as you take on this walk.

Neeld is said by some to have been the richest man in Victorian England. This wealth derived from the legacy of his uncle, Philip Rundell (1746–1827) – a successful London silversmith. Rundell left Neeld £900,000 (which Neeld grew further through investment in East India stock and London land). This legacy was motivated by gratitude of the otherwise miserly Rundell towards nephew Neeld – who had looked after Rundell for 14 years prior to his death. Neeld went on to use his inherited wealth to acquire the Grittleton estate. This comprised a 17^th century manor house, some land thereabouts and the manor of Chippenham, which secured two parliamentary seats.

Neeld himself became MP for Gatton (a rotten Borough with only one elector) – although he made no speeches in the House of Commons.  Later he was MP for Chippenham (where he did speak for the abolition of slavery).  Then, in 1831 at Warwick Castle, he married Lady Caroline Ashley-Cooper, the daughter of Lord Shaftesbury. This may have contrived a trade between his money and her social connections. However, the union turned out to be a disaster. On returning from honeymoon (so it is claimed – but certainly very soon after), Lady Caroline was surprised to find a young girl living in the house. Neeld admitted that this girl was his illegitimate daughter, one Anne Marie (c.1812-89). (Modern commentators always invoke this illegitimacy as “by a beautiful French woman” – but this is possibly an interesting metaphor, because such detail never comes with any authority.)

There followed a litany of legal cases converging on Lady Caroline’s failing to achieve a divorce (her own reputation was imperfect), although she was granted a separation and an annual income. Thereafter bachelor Neeld lived at Grittleton House with his mother and so died with no legitimate heirs.  In 1844 the estate was based in trust to his brother John (1805-1891). John had six sons, all childless and so the estate ended up with the descendants of Anne Marie.

Grittleton House

Apart from a colourful life story, Neeld’s significance in history lies in the building and charity that he carried out in Grittleton – and in Wiltshire villages nearby.  This starts with Grittleton House itself – visible enough today on Grittleton’s L-shaped road intersection

The Anglo-Saxon registration of the Grittleton estate had been donated to Glastonbury monks at an early point. After the Tudor Dissolution it passed to the Crown and later (1705) to the Houltons, a Wiltshire clothier family from Trowbridge. The estate at that time included a 1660 Jacobean manor house. This was something that Neeld wanted to rebuild: creating what you now see sprawling across the edge of the village. He worked to design a house that would be dramatic and that would contain his substantial collection of fine art.

Neeld’s replacement manor house was largely the work of Scottish architect James Thomson.  Neeld fancied his own talent as an architect and so he played an active part in directing the designs. Although this did lead to frequent fallings out with the professional and to periods when Thomson was simply dismissed and replaced. Pevsner comments that Thomson’s talents lay more in conceiving charming cottages and so were poorly matched to the demands of making a Great House. What therefore got built was an eccentric mix of iconic styles which Pevsner judges in the end to be “beyond definition” (meaning, one imagines, undefinably dreadful).

Neeld villages

The historical significance of Joseph Neeld lies not just in his expansive manor house and its prominence in Grittleton village. He also worked (with Thomson) on shaping the houses all around his estate. Moreover, he extended these chosen designs to create dwellings for estate workers in other villages nearby: notably Alderton, Leigh Delamere and Sevington. Each villager had a cottage that incorporated an allotment for vegetables but also a pigsty – thereby making a family self-sufficient for food. In Grittleton’s Alderton Road the houses still show the original Neeld/Thomson layouts (pigsties possibly now converted).

Neeld also built almshouses, schools, and model farms in the area; he restored the churches at Grittleton and Norton (and he built the town hall in Chippenham). Taking all of this together produces a pattern that some have defined as the ‘Neeld Estate Villages’. Not that this architecture was always purely functional. There was some exotica in the mix as well. For instance, just off this present walk (left turn before M4) is Crowdown with its 5-stage tower – supposedly built to act as a semaphore signal point, effectively warning of Neeld’s impending return to the estate. Also to be admired on this walk is the 1850 West Foscote House [D] with its unusual oriel windows (much favoured by Thomson) and its bell tower with weather vane and sundial.

Finally

So your walk offers a brief window onto the ‘Neeld community’ heritage of Wiltshire. Thankfully, the architecture and associated landscape has been well preserved. However, Grittleton House was built on a scale that now makes it unlikely as a personal dwelling to all but the wealthiest. And perhaps its chaotic design would further limit its appeal as a home.  For a while – from 1967 – it became an independent school but that was forced to close recently, in the face of falling student numbers. Nevertheless, as of today, it is lived in by a single family. Although its main purpose has become another hyper-romantic venue for wedding packages. Usefully to us perhaps, this company’s publicity video (recommend playing it at double speed) offers a slightly eccentric way to look around the house, given that it is not otherwise open to visitors [F].  (A less lyrical tour is here and the inevitable view-from-my-drone is here.)