Swithland Hall Part 1
WHEN Duke William of Normandy decided to hazard the invasion of England he summoned his most trusted and resolute men of war to a fateful conference and outlined his plan of campaign.
Doubtless like most wise military commanders he did not dwell overlong on such depressing matters as hardships and casualties, but laid stress on the fertile Saxon lands which would be distributed with a generous hand when the victory was won.
One of the most famous of the Conqueror’s followers, maybe the medieval equivalent of the chief of staff, was Hugh de Grantemaisnel.
When the invaders were firmly established in England we may suppose he was one of the first to make a respectful claim for his “pound of flesh.”
He was rewarded by the grant of 70 manors in Leicestershire, and th( lands which now enclose the village of Swithland were a part of this modest gift.
Ivo, the son of Hugh, was a hot blooded and indiscreet young man. After his father’s death he unwisely took up arms against Henry the First with dire results. He was outlawed, lost his Leicestershire possessions and the manor of Swithland came into the hands of the Beaumonts, Earls of Leicester. They retained it for four generations, though it is highly improbable that they ever lived there.
In 1255 a certain Robert de Waleys held lands in Swithland, and was granted “divers liberties,” for which he paid a rent of £22 4s. 8d.
This is the first mention of the Waleys in connection with Swithland, and is of particular interest because the fifth Earl of Lanesborough traces his descent back to this family through the Danvers and the Walcotes.
Twenty years later Robert de Waleys has firmly established his family at Swithland and is now referred to as the Lord of the Manor.
In 1277 he erected a Chapel and is graciously given permission by the Bishop of Lincoln to install a chaplain provided “he allows him his proper charges in the chapel lately built in his court at Swithland.”
It would be interesting top know the extent of the “proper charges,” for the church was not a highly paid profession in those early days, and it is probable that the chaplain had to be satisfied with little more than his board and lodging.
For over one hundred years the Waleys “reigned” at Swithland. Since they built a chapel there it seems natural to assume that they lived in the village probably in one of those old manor houses which were constructed for defence rather than comfort.
In 1363 Elizabeth de Waleys, heiress to the family domains, married Sir John Walcote, of Walcote, Misterton.
One of their daughters married John Danvers, whose pedigree may be inspected by the keen genealogist in Swithland church. He will find that “Norman D’Anvers, a
man of Brabant, came to England in aid of William the Conqueror, anno domini 1066,” and that as early as the reign of Henry the First the family was already settled in Leicestershire at the village of Frowlesworth.
For five generations the Danvers lived the normal lives of country squires, and inter-married with well-known Leicestershire families, the Shirleys; the Babingtons of Rothley Temple, and the Palmers of Wanlip.
Joseph Danvers, who succeeded in 1693, was not content with the somewhat restricted life of his ancestors, and accordingly he bravely endured the hardships and perils of a journey to London town. At that time he would be three or possibly four days en route, and in all probability he made his will before he started, and offered up a fervent prayer for protection against the dangers of the road.
In London, no doubt, he frequented -- the coffee houses, became acquainted with Addison and Steele, and sundry political “fans,” who in due course persuaded the young country squire to enter Parliament.
He enjoyed a fair measure of success in his new career, represented Boroughbridge, Bramber, and Totnes, in different Parliaments, steered clear of all Jacobite plots, and returned to his native place a proud man with a baronetcy in his pocket.
In the last few years of his life a favourite dog was his constant and faithful companion, and it is said that he could not endure the thought that death should part them. But alas not even the hound of the Lord of the Manor might be buried in consecrated ground, and though Sir Joseph pondered deeply over this problem it was long ere he found an answer.
Eventually he gave instructions that the tomb should be built so that a small portion lay outside the churchyard, and in this strange position it may be seen today.
Here, we are told, the dog was buried with its master, and the violating of any ecclesiastical laws was happily avoided. This is the generally accepted explanation of the peculiar position of the tomb, and it seems the most natural one.
A DELVE in the Echo archives often turns up some surprising and interesting finds and none more so than a series of articles by an author going under the pen name of “Heywood”.
During the 1930s Heywood contributed a number of pieces for the Echo looking at local country houses, churches and also local legends.
We know many readers have been enjoying the old legend articles we have been revisiting these last few months. Sadly we’ve now run out of Heywood’s tales, but now we are concentrating on his writings on local country houses.
We hope you enjoy his reflections 90-odd years on after they were first published
There are two other versions however which are intriguing though most improbable.
It is said that Sir Joseph, like James Forsyee, believed that his family “never told him anything,” and therefore conceived it his duty to watch them the more closely. When he had reached the allotted span, so the story runs, he’ gave certain orders concerning his burial, with the result that the tomb was placed a little nearer the hall and an opening left in the top, so that he might always be able to see what was afoot.
The third version we quote with some trepidation lest we be considered irreverent.
Tradition has it that Sir Joseph had a fervent desire to arise on his own ground when the last trump was sounded.
The old Swithland Hall shown here was the residence of the Danvers for many generations.
It stood nearly opposite the church and was a large and rambling place, in architectural form totally unlike any other country house we have seen in this district; according to Potter, the Leicestershire historian, it was surrounded by stables, high walls and dovecotes, though the print does not convey that impression.
There is still a small portion left which is occupied by one of the families working on the estate. The cross in the foreground once stood in Mountsorrel village, but was removed to the park at Swithland by Sir John Danvers, who had the present market cross erected in exchange.