A Bit of Amsersham History

Extract from: “Pen sketches by a vanished hand, ed. by T. Taylor, with notes by the ed. and mrs. M. Collins – Volume 1“, by Edward James Mortimer Collins

Published in 1879

Pages 110 – 111

Amersham – another of those long Buckinghamshire
towns , another borough which the Reform Act disfran
chised is entered pleasantly by a road which runs
through Shardeloes , the seat of the Drakes , descendants , I
believe , of the great Sir Francis .

The house is high on
the right , and the green hill slopes from it down to the
river Miss , here widened to a diminutive lake .

Martyrs
were burned at Amersham three centuries ago , their own
children being compelled to set fire to the fagots : and the
tradition is that nothing has since grown where they were
barbarously slain .

Well , these are tolerant days , thank
Heaven ; and when we reflect upon those times of per
secution , it is rather their folly than their cruelty that
provokes our wonder . But fanaticism is immortal ; and
when a Dean of the English Church and Deans , having
comfortable incomes , should be mild and easy – tempered men
-calls tobacco ” a gorging fiend , ” I should like to ask what
punishment he would inflict on an incorrigible smoker .

Entering Amersham , I noticed the flowery luxury of
some quiet alms – houses , where ancient widows dwell by
the generosity of a Drake of Shardeloes .

At the Crown
Inn , right opposite the church – where Waller , poet and
M.P. for Amersham , was christened – I stay to lunch and
write a letter ; and I wonder at the civilisation of a village
inn where I can get bottled Scotch ale and a quill – pen .

I moreover observe from my window a great number of gentlemen wandering about in clerical costume ; perhaps ,
as the living of Amersham brings in the highly respect
able sum of £ 1331 yearly , the rector keeps numerous
curates .

While resting here , suddenly the sky blackens ;
the green trees upon the hill above the church seem
intensified in colour by the background of thunderous
sky ; and there come on lightning and rain , which soon
clear the long street , so that there is not a curate to be
seen .

There are some minor oddities at Amersham .

There is a barber’s – shop , with a wondrous waxen figure
head in its window , and the startling inscription ” And
at Richmond . ”

The hair – cutting fashions learnt in the
vicinity of the Star and Garter are doubtless applied to
the bucolic pates of Amersham .

Another shopkeeper
works in ” buhl and marqeterie . ”

There is also a public
notice that all ballad – singers will be taken into custody ;
so I hope Mr. Sims Reeves will not venture into the neigh
bourhood .

As I leave the town , a basket – carriage drawn by a
handsome pair of donkeys overtakes me an equipage of
Lord Grosvenor’s .

The ” moke , ” the costermonger’s friend
and slave , is by no means out of place in an aristocratic
turn – out ; well – bred , well – fed , and well – groomed , he is an
uncommonly handsome and docile animal . His intelli
gence nobody doubts ; indeed , he is often a good deal too
intelligent to please his rider .

And now, for the eleven miles from Amersham to Uxbridge, I have almost incessant rain. I pass Chalfont St. Giles, the quiet village where Milton wrote Paradise Lost, but am too damp to search for his cottage .