MAJESTIC CITY OF MARSH AND FEN
commanding a vast landscape dominated by water, the tiny isle of ely has a rebellious past
A tiny city’s Fenland triumph
Rising from an expansively flat and water-riven landscape, the two great stone towers of Ely Cathedral dominate the skyline. For more than 800 years, this magnificent building has stood above a misty land of marshes and waterways. Known as the Ship of the Fens, it has overseen political upheaval, industrial transformation and the timeless quietude of one of the country’s most fertile farming regions. Today, amid clusters of daffodils and budding spring greenery, it remains a proud sentinel, the central point of an ancient settlement, where a centuries-old battle has been waged against the encroaching waters. For 6,000 years after the end of the last ice age, dense forests of alder, oak, willow and ash grew over the Isle of Ely. With its highest point reaching 85ft (26m) above sea level, the land stood distinct from the surrounding low-lying basin of the Fens. That flooded and swampy region of snaking rivers, marine silt and growing depths of thick black peat was a uniquely rich yet doggedly inhospitable area. Once a powerhouse of medieval England, Ely is the fifth smallest city in England, out of 51 by population, according to the 2011 census. Nearly 1,000 years ago, it was the base for Hereward the Wake, who rebelled against the Norman Conquest. Six centuries later, it was the home of Oliver Cromwell, one of the leading players in the English Civil War, the man who eventually ruled the country as Lord Protector. The Isle of Ely is so called because it was only accessible by boat until the Fens were drained in the 17th century. Still susceptible to flooding today, it was these water-logged surrounds that gave Ely its original name, the Isle of Eels, from the Anglo Saxon word Eilig. Today, the city is a place that is filled with beauty and charm, from the narrow lanes that run to the cathedral, down to the River Great Ouse with its colourful narrowboats and overhanging willows. Its buildings reflect the different eras of the town’s history, with a mixture of old cobbled stone, bare brick and painted frontage. The historic mingles with the modern in a delightfully small area.
Towering presence
Overshadowing everything is the majestic cathedral with its ornate West Tower and unique central Octagon Tower. Bordered by the High Street on one side and a cluster of stone-built monastic buildings, a field of livestock and the
verdant charms of Cherry Hill Park on the other, it forms a spring vista of rare inspiration. The cathedral’s origins date back to 673AD, when an Anglo-Saxon princess, Etheldreda, founded a monastery on the site. Work on the present building began in the 11th century, with the West Tower being completed almost 100 years later. There had originally been a second, central tower, but this collapsed in on itself in 1322. It was replaced with what is now the Octagon Tower with its suspended lantern. The lantern has been described as one of the engineering wonders of the medieval world. Made of approximately 200 tons of wood, coated with 200 tons of lead, it stands on eight massive stone pillars, 142ft (43m) above the cathedral floor. How it was lifted into the soaring Octagon remains a mystery. Eight great trunks of oak were brought by river from Chicksands Priory, Bedfordshire, in the late 1320s. The route ran via the Nene to the Wash, then up the Great Ouse. This was the only way to transport them into a landscape too marshy and treacherous for meaningful road infrastructure. Records show that they were part of a lot of 20 such trees and that Ely Cathedral paid £9 for all of them. From below, the warmth and colour of the lantern’s windows, which are alternately formed of blue-purple and red-framed glass, mingle with the rich wooden hue of the beams to create a spectacular sight. At night, the glow from the lantern is a beacon in the surrounding fens. “We have choral evensong throughout term time, and there is generally an organ practice from 9am to 10am and from 4pm to 5pm as well,” says Jenni Hepworth. One of the cathedral’s staff, Jenni is also a member of the congregation as well as a volunteer worker and a guide to its lofty towers. “Being here with that sublime music alongside the inspiring light and architecture is quite an experience. I’ve spoken to visitors who have described it as out of this world. I don’t think it matters whether you have faith or not; the music has a power to move people in a deep way.” Jenni moved to Ely 11 years ago, from the North West. “I’ve been here in the cathedral most days since then,” she says.
“It’s hard to put into words what is so compelling about it. But I always say to myself that the day I walk into the cathedral and don’t feel that it’s special, is the day I’ll stop coming. “A lot of visitors say it immediately feels like a warm and friendly place, even though, physically, it can be very cold. There are several old Victorian Gurney stoves that do an admirable job, although it’s been a while since 1867, when they were considered cutting edge.” That coolness in temperature is due to the dimensions of the nave, which is 248ft (75m) long and 105ft (32m) high, and the volume of undivided space within the structure. “Unusually for an English cathedral, you can enter through the West Door and see all the way through to the East Wall,” says Jenni. “There’s a totally uninterrupted view, despite the fact that Ely, after Winchester and St Albans, is the third longest medieval cathedral in England.” The cathedral is filled with artistic warmth, from the rich patterns of the ceiling above the long nave to the hammer-beam roofs of the north and south transepts and the mesmerising cross patterning above the choir. Smaller stained glass windows in the sides of the nave create a vibrancy of colour, matched by the wealth of flower displays. In the right light there is a deep blue glow from the window above the South Door. The extensive East Window, a work of Victorian restorationist William Wailes, casts its own bold palette, chiefly of blues and reds. The image depicts the Crucifixion, with soldiers casting lots and dividing garments below. “There’s a quality of atmosphere here that’s hard to define,” continues Jenni. “It’s a mixture of the architecture and the painted ceiling. The design, with its semicircular arches, is obviously Romanesque, as there’s a lot of Norman building still left. That makes it different to the Gothic cathedrals, which can feel a little austere. If you look at the great pillars, they’re made from Barnack limestone, from near Peterborough, and, perhaps surprisingly, they would originally have been painted red and blue. You can even see hints of that paint left in certain places. “The light is always interesting, too. Very little of the medieval glass survived, and most of the glass and windows were replaced in the 19th century. Now, any direct sunlight casts coloured patterns on the pillars and floors. The pools of light it makes are different every day.” Exploring the sights and attractions of the cathedral can be a richly rewarding experience. There are many contrasts, such as the stark bright white space of the Lady Chapel, which has no coloured glass. Dedicated to the Virgin Mary and built between 1321 and 1349, it is the largest chapel of its kind attached to any British cathedral. However, its asceticism is actually misleading. Prior to King Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th century, it would have housed magnificent medieval imagery and decoration. Stripped of it shrines and artworks, the church was allowed to survive, as it was felt it could help the poor and spread the Protestant faith.
Works of passion
Just within the West Entrance is the only museum in Britain dedicated to stained glass, from the medieval to the modern. It is accessed via a 40-step, stone spiral staircase. “There are a range of topics to be seen here; it’s far from just religious,” says Italia De-Sanctis, the venue’s visitor services assistant. “There are secular themes, dioramas, fused-glass pieces, self-portraits and even three-dimensional works. “What really stands out is the amazing attention to detail.
People are used to seeing stained glass at a distance and at height. This has the advantage that stained glass art changes dramatically from cold, dark days to clear ones in the brighter seasons. But although you can still see much of the detail that way, there is a lot to be gained from viewing the works up close and back-lit. It becomes easier to interpret what the artist’s intentions were and to see the kind of passions that were involved in making the piece.” The works are displayed chronologically. “This allows you to see how the medium has changed through time and how the techniques have changed too,” explains Italia. “It can even inspire you to take it up yourself. I’ve tried to do a little glass fusing, but it’s very challenging. What works in my mind hasn’t yet translated well into the finished product. But that’s appealing in its own way, and our workshops are always very popular.”
Civil War leader
Outside the West Entrance is a leafy triangle of grass bordered by the 15th century Palace of the Bishops of Ely. This is now a sixth form centre for the private King’s School, with tours only occasionally available. Beyond it, just a few hundred yards to the west, sits the beam-fronted face of Oliver Cromwell’s House. It was in Ely that Cromwell’s inherited family wealth lay. He lived in the city for 10 years, between 1636 and 1646. It was here that he first raised a cavalry militia in 1642. Reformed and renamed the New Model Army, this would go on to become an
anti-Royalist force with Cromwell as second-in-command. He may have won the Civil War, but he eventually lost the support of the people of Ely. In part, this was due to his puritanical beliefs, which caused him to halt sung services at the cathedral from 1645-1656. He also became a strong proponent of draining the Fens, a move that many saw as causing hardship for the local people. Yet the interest in the former Lord Protector remains strong within the city. Today, rooms inside his former home have been recreated in the style of the period, while an exhibition details the history of the English Civil War.
Behind the prison walls
To the north of the cathedral, across the bustling intersection that heads the High Street, sits the square brick structure that is Ely Museum. “There has been a building here since the 13th century,” says the museum’s assistant curator Sara Brown. “As you can tell from the sections of medieval wall that still remain, it’s been used for a lot of purposes in that time: as a house, council offices, a register office and more. But it’s probably most famous for being the bishop’s gaol and following the 1816 bread riot, for holding the Littleport Rioters before their execution.” There is much social and economic history to be discovered within the museum, with clear representations of how times have changed. Until the late 18th century, for example, the gaoler here was not paid a salary. Instead, he made a profit from fares collected upon the arrival and departure of prisoners, and from charging them for goods and services, ranging from iron bedsteads to blankets, along with better quality food. “Ely may be a city, but today it feels a small and friendly one,” continues Sara. “It developed from the smallest of settlements into a market town, and it’s kept that feeling. It has a quieter atmosphere than most cities: it is slower and more peaceful. There’s a strong sense of community here, and we also have many fairs, such as October’s Apple Festival.”
Riverside focus
From the museum, a short walk down Market Street comes out at the city’s thriving market place, complete with cafés and stores. The buildings are mostly two to three storeys high and more modern in style than the area which directly surrounds the cathedral. From here, continuing down the slopes of Fore Hill leads to the riverside. Ely was traditionally a stopping point on the Great Ouse between King’s Lynn and Cambridge. Goods such as wheat, barley, asparagus, strawberries and cherries would have passed through the city on boats, ferries and punts. Today, this area continues to be a source of interest and activity. Historically, the focus on the river was not just due to the transport of goods, but to a profitable eel fishing industry. The Fenland eel was considered a great delicacy throughout much of Ely’s past. In its medieval heyday, as many as 27,000 eels were recorded as being fished each year from the village of Doddington alone, 15 miles away. Long-handled metal gleeves, which were multi-pronged spears with serrated blades, were used alongside basket traps, or grigs, sunk into the water, each capable of catching more than a dozen eels at a time. The eels were able to survive for long periods out of water, making their fresh delivery over long distances a relatively simple task. However, the currents of the world’s oceans and the structure of the Great Ouse have both altered since the city’s founding. Today, the 3,000-mile breeding migration of the European eel, which takes it across the Atlantic Ocean to the Sargasso Sea has changed. This, among a variety of other factors, has resulted in a great reduction in the numbers of
“Overhead the arch of heaven spread more ample than elsewhere, as over the open sea; and that vastness gave, and still gives, such cloudlands, such sunrises, such sunsets, as can be seen nowhere else within these isles.” Charles Kingsley, Hereward the Wake
eels in the area. They do, however, remain a prominent part of the area’s heritage, as do the river and the maltings. While once residents’ livelihoods were tied up in the river, it is now a source of recreation and home to painted narrowboats. The Babylon Arts Gallery sits by the side of the Great Ouse, overhanging willows surrounding it alongside the water’s edge. Nearby are a sizeable antiques shop, a thriving tea room, a single-screen arts cinema, numerous artists’ outlets and a pair of riverside pubs. “We attract approximately 25,000 visitors per year,” says Caroline Cawley, the gallery’s co-director. “We try to showcase an eclectic range of art, from Hockney to the works of our art groups. Artists range from glass cutter Chris Wood to Nadine Anderson, a basket weaver who collects reeds locally.” Caroline and fellow director Nathan Jones also run local youth groups as well as the nearby independent cinema. The latter sits inside a converted malt house, where 240 seats fit beneath its vaulted ceilings. “Being right opposite the marina, there’s always something to see,” she says. “When the light hits the river at a certain time of day, you can see the water ripples reflecting from the ceiling of the main studio. It still makes my spine tingle. The thing about Ely is that it’s a city, but it feels more like a community-minded town. The people are exceptionally friendly, to the extent that I don’t think I’ll ever leave.”
Glorious appeal
In 1377, Ely’s population was 1,772, making it the 22nd largest settlement in England. Today, it is dwarfed by many others. However, this a city rich in sights and attractions, whose historical and cultural appeals far outweigh the diminutive size of their setting in the open landscape. From the far-reaching vistas atop the cathedral’s West Tower to the waters of the Great Ouse, Ely’s appeal is as broad as the ground upon which it is built. This is ground tirelessly reclaimed from the invading tides of The Wash by ingenuity, determination and by a bright, continuing optimism, all reflected in the glory of Ely. ▯ Words: Dan Aspel ▯ Photography: Richard Faulks
“Of all the Marshland Isles, I Ely am the queen: For winter, each where sad, in me looks fresh and green… My full and batning earth, needs not the plowman’s pains,” Michael Drayton, ‘ The Twenty-First Song’