A History of Meysey Hampton - Hidden Gems in the Cotswolds

Hi there and welcome to the Cotswolds Explorer. I'm Robin Shackborough and we are exploring the wonderful region of the Cotswolds in south-west England. We've decided to revisit the centre of the region and find some hidden gems, places that are not quite so famous but still just as beautiful. And today you find Ross, Widget, Gizmo and me in the little village of Macyhampton. Now I have to admit I'd not heard of this village before and driving into it it perhaps explained why. It's clearly been taken over by the local industry which is the Royal Air Force and the American Air Force at various times. It's very close to an airfield but the centre of the village is just as sleepy and Cotswold-like as ever it could be. We're going to show you around. Come with me. This area of the Cotswolds just on the border of Wiltshire and close to the embryonic River Thames was once, much like any other part of the central Cotswolds, made up of little village communities usually run by rich estates, either monastic or secular, and you could travel slowly amongst them enjoying the beautiful buildings undisturbed. In the 20th century, under the cloud of World War, several aerodromes were built as far from the coast as possible making use of any flat land on the top of the hills or, as in the case of Macyhampton, the valley of the River Thames. By no means all of them exist these days but Fairford, just a couple of miles from here, has grown and spread until it has become impossible not to feel the effect of this vast organisation. The Royal Air Force and a strong American presence has meant that large numbers of personnel needed accommodation and the villages have hugely expanded. Almost hiding in the middle of these 20th century housing estates, however, you can still find the remnants of the Cotswold treasurers we find elsewhere. The green at the centre of Macyhampton is a lovely classic village green. The pub, the mason's arms, right on the green, is a traditional village pub with food and accommodation. My guess is that they do very well with the airfield nearby. Certainly their homemade arancini, made with smoked cheddar and chorizo, were delicious. I think I'm right in saying that the landlord is the chef. It's often a good scenario. The houses around the green seem quite grand and largely unchanged. In the middle of the green is a high-standing water pump, with stone steps up to it, which was designed to fill agricultural and domestic water-bowers on horse-drawn carts. Down a lane a few hundred yards north of the green, on a sort of raised promontory, is the village church, a phrase that doesn't really do it justice. As you approach the church there is a village pond full of wildlife, an interesting aspect to the north and a fence to lean on to admire the view, giving just a hint as to the proximity of the airfield, but the eye is then drawn to this lovely 13th century cruciform. The graveyard is beautifully tended, or was on the cold January day we pitched up. This church was built by the Knights Templar in 1269, with a chancel almost as long as the nave and transepts north and south. All very promising so far. Once inside the fun really begins. As you will know if you've seen any of our stuff in the past, these local churches sometimes contain very surprising treasures. This one is what the Americans would call a doozy. My grandmother, by the way, was American, so I feel justified in the cultural appropriation. The monument in the south transept is worth travelling a long way for. I have a favourite blog called English Buildings on Blogspot, written by Philip Wilkinson, a brilliant local author, and his description of this monument is irresistible. I'm sure he will forgive me if I quote him. Here's a wonderful example of the architecture of church monuments. It's a monument of James Vaux, a physician, and his two wives, Editha, on his right, and Philippa, a Jacobean Philippa, presumably, on his left. The portraits of the three are charming. Vaux, in his doctor's gown and pointed beard, resting his arm on a skull and leaning towards his first wife, whose head is slightly inclined towards him. Philippa stares ahead, by contrast, looking life in the face. She has no skull and carries a protective pomander. She survived her husband and lived to marry again. I find these figures rather moving, and the nuances of pose that the sculptor allowed himself, or was allowed by eldest son Francis, who commissioned the monument, very English in their restraint. Below them are tiny images of the children. Editha's 12. My, how these women worked at childbirth! And Philippa's four. Some, shown in bed, presumably died before their father. Above, amongst the pediments at the top of the monument, are figures of the virtues. And then there is the architecture. Look at the way the sculptor has invoked the panoply of Jacobean classicism. Pediments variously shaped, scrolls, composite columns, panels, keystones, cartouches, cherubim with winged heads, niches, to frame and display his subjects. He was able to add colour, too, reminding us that even in the supposedly restrained phase of the English Church, things were brighter and more vivid than we sometimes think. It all adds up to a grand monument, but in a rough-hewn, provincial manner. Perhaps this is right for its subject. Vaux was eminent, but didn't make it to the top job of physician. When King James asked him how he knew how to heal, the doctor replied that he had learned by practice. Then, by my soul, thou hast killed many a man, responded James. Thou shalt no practice on me. The Church Monument Society concludes their description of this extraordinary piece of bling as follows. As with so many monuments, it is not an end in itself, but a link in a chain, and great fun can be had in trying to trace the interrelations between families. Dr Vaux's last wife, Philippe, is not buried with him, as she subsequently married a Bainham, an illustrious local family. When she died in 1631, her then-husband placed a laudatory epitaph on her gravestone in St James's Church in Staunton, then in Worcestershire, now in Gloucestershire. She also appears amongst the three kneeling daughters on the monument of her father, William Horton, who died in 1615, also in St James's Church. Thus, she is commemorated on three different memorials. I'm absolutely sure she was worth it. This lovely monument, whilst captivating, shouldn't stop you noticing the wonderful stonework on the south side of the chancel, which, whilst probably moved at some stage during the life of the Church, show just how seriously the Knights Templar took their faith. The font is a 19th-century addition by Brooks, who also provided the reredos, the pews and stalls, along with the tiling on the floor. The pulpit is 20th-century, provided along with the communicants' kneelers. It's a lovely church, this, and just demonstrates why we find ourselves so often concentrating on the ecclesiastical buildings in a village. It's hard, if not impossible, to find anything remotely as interesting in the later extension of this settlement. I hope you've enjoyed our little spin around Maisiehampton. It is interesting, it's definitely a village of two parts, because there is a large amount of housing here, mainly 20th-century housing, but in the middle of it is this extraordinary little village, and this lovely church, with its extraordinary stonework. We've had a really nice time here. Don't forget to subscribe to the channel, it helps us if you do. We will see you very soon, somewhere else in the Cotswolds.