Chawton celebrates literary women far beyond its Austen connections

I am always delighted by bits of English heritage that are thriving thanks to the money and passions of Americans. Many of these rescue stories are well known: Blenheim Palace, Hidecote Manor Gardens and Hever Castle are just the tip of an enormous iceberg. Little did I realise that Chawton House, in my own neighbourhood, is another member of the American club.

If you’re judging on the usual stately home standards of architectural grandeur or museum-quality contents, Chawton is little known and insignificant . Amongst one group, however, it’s vastly important. Serious Jane Austen fans, aka “Janeites” will know of it as the home of Jane’s brother, Edward, whose generousity gave her the time and space to write her novels. While the Austen link is important, it’s the house’s role as an advocate for and repository of the works of literary women from the Tudor through Georgian periods that makes it truly unique these days. Chawton’s survival as a heritage attraction open to visitors, and its broader literary endeavours, are due to California-born Sandy Lerner.

Lerner was a co-founder of Cisco Systems and, in classic Silicon Valley style, graduated from IT exec to investor and benefactor. With degrees in international relations and economics before she embraced computing, Lerner was more of a Renaissance being than your typical IT boffin, displayed in her subsequent involvement in animal welfare, historic home renovation and the founding of Urban Decay cosmetics. Most salient to the Chawton story, however, is Lerner’s fascination with early female writers, many of whom produced popular works in their lifetimes but were forgotten in male-curated history. When Chawton's owners in the early 1990s decided they could no longer maintain the house, Lerner’s literary passions and love of Jane Austen made her the perfect buyer. She didn’t just spearhead the restoration of a building in tenuous shape, she established a Centre for the Study of Early Women’s Writing (1600-1830) and donated a significant, and probably unique, collection of books by those oft-neglected writers. Though Lerner is no longer actively involved in running the place, her spirit lives on.

As someone who’s spent her whole working life in the IT industry, I can assure you that female executives are rare beasts, and senior leaders interested in history and the arts rank with dragons and hippogriffs. The Chawton story filled me with joy. More practically, so did the experience of visiting the house. 

It’s not a large place, but full of charm. Not an aristocratic residence, but the kind of small estate over which you’d find Austen characters like Mr. Knightly or Colonel Brandon presiding. Unsurprising; Jane spent a great deal of time here and it would have been a natural model. It’s a venerable, grey stone pile with two pronounced gables and a generally Jacobean appearance, though its roots are Elizabethan and the Victorians added bits. It sits three quarters of the way up a hill, woods to its back and a verdant valley at its feet, with thatch-heavy, hugely picturesque Chawton village just a 10-minute walk.

Inside, there’s a procession of pretty, panelled rooms, some hugely atmospheric hallways and all the split levels and strange corners you’d expect of a place that’s been added to bit by bit over more than 400 years without ever seeing a comprehensive makeover in any one style. Most magical, no doubt because I was already in a literary frame of mind and the house is, functionally, a giant library, were the many nooks that seemed perfect for reading or writing. The most obvious spot was labelled as the alcove that had once been Jane’s favourite, but there were armchairs in front of fires or on small landings, benches in sunlight-filled hallways and a cozy little room with a writing desk in it that invited paper-based recreation. 

Other items of interest on permanent display in the house include family portraits … a fascinating clan full of interesting women ... a striking 17th century staircase, a detailed map of early Georgian London on an enormous folding screen, armourial glass in windows and period costumes. Entering the library, tucked behind the gift shop, is by request and worth doing to see shelves packed with historic tomes you've probably never heard of. Here was the only disappointment of touring Chawton. Quite understandably, you have to be supervised by a staff member when you're looking at this precious collection, and unless you're a registered academic who's made a request in advance you can't take anything down to read. If you love books, it's like walking into a lavish bakery when you're on Weight Watchers.

The shop can assuage that unfulfilled hunger; it's a small but beautifully curated selection of books, literary-themed gifts and country house-influenced homeware. 

Upstairs, two rooms serve as galleries for temporary exhibitions, mostly drawn from the books in the library. There's none of the fancy set design, lighting and projection I recently wrote about in my article on the Museum of Danish Resistance, but there’s still a strong effort here at storytelling … even if what you’re looking at is mostly books and documents. The current exhibition is Trailblazers: Women travel writers and the exchange of knowledge. Obviously, a topic near and dear to my heart.

None of these early women set out to earn money off the descriptions of their journeys. Most travelled for other reasons, from their husbands' jobs to escapism to enjoying the same grand tours as their brothers. Many had outrageous adventures beyond the imaginations of modern professionals: imprisonment, shipwreck, death of the travelling companion who was their reason for travel, revolution. Unsurprisingly, their adventures made for some fabulous literature, much of it sadly no longer in print. 

We meet Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who accompanied her ambassador husband to the Ottoman court, and amongst other wonders wrote about successful vaccinations 75 years before Jenner “invented” the smallpox vaccine in England. Hester Stanhope, niece and hostess to Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger, went travelling across the Eastern Mediterranean, became an early archeologist, went native and never came home. Maria Graham accompanied her naval officer husband around the world, started writing about her travels and eventually earned her living from writing after her husband died. 

These are just a few of the fascinating heroines you get to meet. On display are their notes and published books, plus ephemera like 19th century grand tourists’ calling cards, historic passports and letters of transit (ones from the Ottoman Empire are spectacularly beautiful), sketches and watercolours. Curators add a bit of fun with a “passport” you can pick up at the start and “stamp” with different locations as you learn about each of the women in the spotlight. The exhibition continues until 26 February.

Chawton has a surprising number of special events given its humble size, including upcoming lectures on the exhibition, snowdrop walks and a Valentine's Day dinner in its old kitchen, all listed on its website. General admission is free for Historic Houses Association members. An adult day ticket is £12.

Related stories:

- Chawton Cottage is amongst the sites I mention in my roundup of North Hampshire highlights

-A "Hawk Walk" in Chawton House grounds is the perfect gift for someone who needs nothing

-Jane Austen sites make for a grown up hen do

-A walk around Steventon and its lush environs

Country walk with a majestic falcon makes a memorable birthday treat

To give is proverbially better than to receive. It's a point proven in abundance on a Hampshire Hawk Walk, both because it's a unique experience for tough-to-buy-for loved ones, and because the giver has almost as much fun as the celebrant.

This is a one-on-one experience, as opposed to the small group outings that seem to be more common when you start searching for falconry experiences. We met falconer Anita Ebdon and her Harris hawk, Guinness, on the front lawns of Chawton House, a stately home in North Hampshire. From its gardens we set off for a 90-minute ramble around adjacent meadows and woods. The birthday boy got to don a falconer’s glove straight away, and from then on Guinness was landing on his outstretched arm rather than Anita’s.

We’ve seen a fair number of birds of prey exhibitions, from the lavish spectacular at Warwick Castle to humble demonstrations at our local horse trials. And while we’ve enjoyed them all, when you strip them back to their basics they feature birds flying back and forth in a defined space. A Hawk Walk is totally different. 

Over the course of about a mile, we walked and Guinness followed. At regular intervals, Anita dipped into  the bag at her hip and extracted a tasty morsel of raw rabbit meat which she then balanced on the side of my husband’s outstretched, gloved fist. Within a few seconds, Guinness would come swooping in for his snack. The further we got into the walk, the more comfortable the hawk became with my husband, so that near the end he wouldn’t just eat and run, but stay on Piers’ arm a bit as we walked. The technique’s not so different from walking a dog off-lead, but the birds are a good deal more majestic. (Sorry, Bruno.)

Alternating between meadow and forest is an inspired combination. When you’re in the meadow, the hawk retreats to the trees at its edge, his exceptional vision never losing you even though you don’t have a clue where he’s gone. when his snack comes out, though, you’re treated to long, majestic and slightly unnerving glides as he plunges towards his objective. If you ever wondered why most fighter jets are named after birds of prey, this will resolve the question for you.

The woodlands were even better. Under the canopy Guinness stayed closer to us, and was easier for us to pick out as the jingle of his bell wasn’t lost on the wind. He’d move tree to tree, always keeping us in sight. Again, when the treat came out he’d make his move, now showing off precision flying as he wove through branches and trunks at high speed, approaching at a much lower level than out in the open air. Several times, as the trailing photographer, I had the thrill of him skimming within inches of me, a blur of chocolate and sienna feathers and a blast of cool air.

The visceral excitement of getting that close to a top predator at work is accompanied by informative commentary from Anita who, as you’d expect, is a font of knowledge on her own Harris hawks (Guinness is one of a team of seven), as well as other birds of prey, the history of falconry, and the countryside through which you’re walking. She even helped us spot a rare Chalk Hill Blue butterfly flitting through the dancing grasses of the late summer meadow. Impossible to photograph, delightful to watch.

Anita’s home base means you can combine your Hawk Walk with other local attractions for a rich day in the countryside. Chawton might have rung a bell for the literary amongst you; the manor house was the home of Jane Austen’s brother and she lived the last nine (and most productive) years of her life in a cottage at the centre of the tiny village at the estate’s edge. Both the manor and Jane’s house are open to the public. Even if you’re not a Jane Austen fan, you’ll be fascinated to observe her worshippers (aka Janeites) who treat their house visit like the culmination of a holy pilgrimage. If nature is more your thing, a few miles further on lovely country lanes takes you to Gilbert White’s house. The 18th century parson is considered England’s first ecologist and his Natural History of Hampshire shaped many scientists to come, including Darwin. His lovely, tastefully restored home sits in protected meadows and woodlands open to walkers, and the adjacent village of Selborne is one of Hampshire’s prettiest.

We opted for a pre-walk Sunday lunch at the Rose and Crown in Upper Farringdon. Yet another example of the kind of gastropub we wish someone would transform one of our four locals into. Charming historic exterior, interiors maintaining that dark wood, old-world feel but elevated with tasteful touches of modern design, mellow music at a background volume, an interesting and well-priced wine list and a menu that celebrates local producers and seasonal choices. It being a Sunday, the menu was all about the traditional roast, with generous slices of succulent meats, rich gravy and Yorkshire puddings the size of a baby’s head. 

Anita’s Hawk Walks start at £90 for the participant and one companion, with additional observers possible for an added fee. Find out more here. A word of warning: because these are individual walks and she only does three a day, she books up well in advance. If you want to match your experience to a particular date, planning three to six months in advance would be sensible.

To see the Instagram reel I put together from the walk, follow this link.

Quiet North Hampshire is a sight-seeing treasure trove

The Vyne, Silchester Roman Ruins, Stratfield Saye, Chawton Cottage, Winchester Cathedral and the Bombay Sapphire Distillery

As a consideration while house hunting, density of nearby sight-seeing spots is probably not high on the lists of most English people.  It's a different story for the American expat.

Twelfth Night at The Vyne

For Americans who can find the time and money to push beyond the local choices of Canada, Mexico, or the Caribbean, Great Britain is the No. 1 choice for foreign travel.  If they're visiting, the effort of trans-Atlantic flying means they'll be staying a while.  (Rocketing good guest accommodation up that house-hunting list as well.)  As their host, you'll probably want to spend time showing them around, so you want a range of sights that won't bore you, and aren't a hassle to reach.  If you can't take time off work, you want locations close enough for public transport, taxis, or easy drop off and pick up.  If you live in London, of course, this is no problem.  Once you move out of the capital, things can get challenging.

Not, however, in North Hampshire.  My Aunt Marian has just finished a long weekend here, reminding me of just how culturally rich our little part of this green and pleasant land is.  We spent three of her four days within 22 miles of home, packing in a delightful range of activities.  Don't let the charmless modernity of Basingstoke fool you into dismissing the whole area; there's gold in those surrounding fields.  Here's an overview.

The Vyne
The more I go to our local National Trust property, the more I love it.  (With the exception, earlier this summer, of a run-in with a particularly nasty volunteer who was channelling every sour, old, fun-hating librarian stereotype known to man.  I'll grant she might have been having a bad day, and forget it.)  The house is a gem.  Grand enough to impress, small enough to digest.  Distinct layers of history telling a story about how such places come together by slow amalgamation.  (Tudor, Carolingian, Georgian, Victorian)  And there's a good handful of blockbusters for history and architecture geeks: A

contemporary portrait of Catherine of Aragon in the chapel stained glass; a neo-classical staircase to make Wedgwood fans pant with desire;  one of the best Regency print rooms still in existence ... it's the supposed inspiration for the Duke of Wellington's rooms at Stratfield Saye;  Fascinating links to Horace Walpole and Jane Austen.  If you can play the piano, which is what my aunt actually does for a living, you can sit down and have a go at their Victorian ivories.

Outside, the gardens are pretty though unexceptional.  The real stars are the riverside and woodland walks.  In front of the house, lawns are thoughtfully dotted with deck chairs for your use, sloping down to a "lake" (created by holding up the flow of the river) graced by ducks, geese and swans.  Walk along its banks, swaying reeds towering above you, and you'll come to a remarkable marsh given over to wildfowl.  There's a wooden hide where you can sit and watch.  Or continue on for miles of meandering through the forest, silent but for the occasional hoot of a child's glee.

Every summer The Vyne hosts The Lord Chamberlain's Men, a traditional Shakespearean troop that performs, in a style the Bard would have recognised, on the lawns.  We were impressed by their Macbeth a few years ago (review here), and were equally delighted ... though considerably more cheered ... by this year's Twelfth Night.

Silchester
The Vyne has a fine collection of Roman artefacts unearthed locally, and one legend concerning its unusual name has the Roman Emperor Probus ordering the first vineyard in England on this spot.  Nobody can prove the wine lore, but there's no doubt about Romans being here.  Just six miles beyond the National Trust house, you'll find the remains of Calleva Atrebatum in the sleepy village of Silchester.  At the height of the Roman empire this was a bustling, walled town of more than 20 square blocks, complete with its own forum, government buildings, baths and a small amphitheatre outside the walls.  It was a major crossroads (much as Basingstoke is today), from where the road from London split into branches heading for Bath, Gloucester and Old Sarum.

While universities tend to excavate here every summer, and have unearthed some lovely stuff, you need to moderate your expectations.  No ruined buildings, mosaics or stacks of columns here.  Silchester's claim to fame is the only unaltered ring of Roman urban walls in England.  (You can see some fine circumferential walls in York and Chester, but they're mostly Medieval built on Roman foundations.)  Calves was completely abandoned by the 7th century, usurped by the Saxon settlements of Basing and Reading, and has spent more than a thousand years since as farmland.  At points, it takes some imaginative thinking to see that the tree covered ridge with the gentle slope down to a shade-dappled stream is, indeed, the remains of the old wall and the defensive ditch in front of it.  That's actually part of Silchester's magic.  You'll feel like you're an explorer stumbling on a lost city for the first time.  Other than the occasional local walking his dog, you'll probably be alone.  The most impressive bit is the West Gate, where a good-sized chunk of the wall looms out of the fields on either side, and the gap in its run makes clear where a stately gatehouse would have been.  The pastoral views from here are soul-soothing.  The silence is broken only by birds and wind-rustled leaves, putting you in just the right mood for a slightly melancholy contemplation of how easily the mighty can fall.

Stratfield Saye
Another local estate to benefit from Roman goodies unearthed in these fields is Stratfield Saye, though it's far more famous as the family home of the Dukes of Wellington.  Aunt Marian and I were both captivated by a quadruple-biography called Sisters of Fortune, which explored the fascinating lives of the four grand-daughters of the last surviving signer of the American Declaration of Independence.  Three moved to England and the eldest, Marianne, is reputed to have been the love of the first Duke of Wellington's life ... though she married his brother.  And, in her previous marriage, she was briefly sister-in-law to Jerome Bonaparte, brother of Wellington's arch rival.  A great case of truth being better than fiction.  Marianne is the only person not of the family "blood" whose portrait

hangs in the dining room here, and a miniature of that dining room portrait was found inside the Duke's pocket watch when he died.  Aunt Marian, who, like her historic name-sake, is also from Baltimore, had to make a pilgrimage to see where part of the story took place.

Most people will be more familiar with Wellington's public exploits: building the foundations of the empire in India, the Peninsular Wars, Waterloo, Prime Minister, mentor to Queen Victoria and godfather to her youngest son.  The estate here was supposed to hold a palace equivalent to the one John Churchill received from the crown to commemorate Blenheim, but things never worked out.  The Duke, always a man of simple tastes, made some basic alterations to the existing house.  His descendants followed suit.  Thus these days you have a fairly modest estate, crammed with treasures from the Great Duke's life that are often amusingly wedged into spaces too small to do them justice.  It's still very much a family home, only opened for a few weeks a year.  The tour guides know their stuff and all have more than a bit of hero worship for the man who established the line.

While in the area, check out The Iron Duke, an excellent gastropub in the estate village.

Chawton Cottage

At a big 17 miles from home, this is starting to push the sightseeing envelope ... but the drive alone is a thing of joy if you appreciate the beauty of rolling farmland and twisting lanes overhung by ancient trees.  At the end of the drive you'll find the charming village of Chawton, where a modest house (roughly the equivalent of a modern 4-bedroom suburban home today) saw Jane Austen write her greatest works.  Today, it's a museum to her life, family and novels.

Your enjoyment of Chawton will be in direct proportion to how much you know and love Austen's work.  Real fanatics can spend hours here, delving into possible influences for different characters and plotlines across her classics.  The casual reader may be more interested in how four genteel but cash-strapped women managed to co-exist in this relatively small space, or spend time wandering in the lovely gardens ... at their peak this time of year.  People who haven't read Austen should probably give this a pass; I know better than to ever drag my husband here!

Winchester Cathedral
Our most distant point, at a whopping 22 miles, is our county town of Winchester.  It never seems to be near the top of the English cathedral lists, perhaps because Medieval engineering and subsidence conspired to leave it without a cathedral's trademark spire.  It's a special place, however, and deserves more renown.  Like all English cathedrals, you'll need to pay to get in; the Church of England doesn't have the revenues to let tourists crawl all over its best assets for free.  Your admission (besides helping to maintain this glorious place) gets you a guided tour, and the volunteers are excellent.

I believe the greatest glory of Winchester is its chantry chapels, some of the best and most abundant in the land.  The rarest treasure, however, might be its Anglo-Saxon baptismal font, probably the best of its type to be seen.  Don't miss the Winchester Bible, the chapel with pre-Raphaelite windows by Bourne-Jones, and the caskets containing the bones of the Anglo-Saxon kings.  In their time, after all, this was the capital of the kingdom rather than London.

Beyond the cathedral close you'll find a provincial market town well worth exploring, with plenty of Georgian architecture enlivened by Medieval and Victorian neighbours.  Other than a ruthlessly ugly, but welcome, multi-story car park, there's not much evidence of the modern world.  Winchester also manages to have a decent proportion of independent restaurants and shops, making it a great place for a wander.

Bombay Sapphire Distillery Tour
Roughly half way between us and Winchester, The Bombay Sapphire Distillery straddles the crystal clear river Test in a wooded valley right out of a fairy tale.  We were early adopters last year, not too long after the company consolidated its distilling here at Laverstoke Mill and made their play for the tourist market.  (Initial report here)  All the essentials remain the same, but the eight months of development have helped them knock the rough edges off.  The plants in the greenhouses ... magnificent structures rising from the river and showing off the botanicals that go into the gin in their growing state ... have matured a bit so the display no longer looks so raw.  The tour guides have polished their patter; delivery was smoother, more amusing and had a few more jokes.  While this is a good option for a mid-winter visit (something not true of many other places in this entry), it's at its

best in the summer.  Pink lythrum and tall reeds swayed along the river bank, trout hung suspended in the water waiting on fat flies and visitors enjoyed the cocktail included with their tour on a broad sun-trap of a patio.  (Despite the clouds in my photo, we got intermittent sunshine while there.)  They've managed to capture the essence of English summer.  Which, depending on your perspective, is either ironic or perfectly logical coming from a brand developed specifically for the American market, relying on British style to generate sales.

I didn't buy any Bombay.  I confess, we're a Tanqueray house, though we've been sampling a lot of boutique, small batch distillery offerings lately.  And this is probably the least repeatable of the activities on my list simply based on price.  At £15 per person, it's the most expensive of the local attractions.  (The Roman walls at Silchester are the cheapest, being free.)  But this visit was worth it not just to give Aunt Marian a special experience ... Bombay is her brand ... but to discover a stunning cocktail called the Laverstoke.  I'll wrap this entry with the recipe.

The LaverstokeGlass – Balloon or large wine
Ingredients – 50 ml Bombay Sapphire
15 ml Martini Extra Dry (autumn season), Rosso (winter), Bianco (spring), Rosato (summer)
15 ml Bottlegreen elderflower cordial
100 ml Fever Tree ginger ale
Method – Pour the Bombay Sapphire, vermouth and elderflower cordial into a balloon glass. Stir with a bar spoon, then squeeze and drop a fresh lime wedge in. Add cubed ice and stir. Pour ginger ale in and gently stir. Garnish with second squeezed lime, two slithers of fresh ginger slices and a sprig of mint, grouped together on one side of the glass.