On the flight from L.A. to Burlington, Vermont, I enjoyed reading Thrumpton Hall, Miranda Seymour's account of her father's obsessive love for the family estate, a Jacobean stately home in Nottinghamshire, England.  I noted with pleasure that the author's great grandfather, Leopold Seymour (1841-1904) married Mary Sturgis (1851-1942), the sister of Howard Sturgis, author of Belchamber (first published in 1904 and recently reissued), previously discussed here.  Moreover, I learned that the author's late father, George FitzRoy Seymour, shared my interest in Brede Place, a 14th century stone manor house in East Sussex once rented by Stephen Crane.

"You enjoy romanticizing the vestiges of feudalism," my host in this remote area of northern Vermont observed. "You are drawn to the myth of the so-called charms of an agricultural system which required the subjugation of a massive underclass by an elite aristocracy."

"Not to mention the number of servants you needed to keep one of those old places going," his wife added helpfully.

"My interest," I assured them, "is strictly ironic."

I have, however, subsequently devoted portions of my time during my vastly entertaining sojurn here -- when not hiking or convalescing from hiking or helping in the garden or, during the the long bouts of much-needed rain, assisting with jigsaw puzzles and providing an informative running commentary on selections from an extensive video library -- pondering the appeal of country living and rural domestic architecture and its preservation, or lack thereof.

    

I have decided that the American perspective on the subject is varied.   Like the owner of Thrumpton Hall, I believe we should make an effort to preserve our architectural heritage.  But I recognize that we can not be slaves to some idealized or sentimentalized vision of the past.  Older structures should be adapted to modern ways of living.



Camera in hand, as I contemplate this diverse landscape and interact in my inimitable fashion with the locals and try to imagine the past while remaining very much in the present, I realize that there is, of course, so much more to be said. 

To be Continued.