Rye
W
Above: A street in Rye in the 1950s. Above right: The Landgate Arch, dating back to 1380 and Edward III's fortifications. Opposite top: View from the tower of Rye's parish church, St Mary's. Opposite below: Simon the Pieman's tea rooms on Lion Street
32 BRITAIN
ithin reach of the salted scent of spindrift from the English Channel lies a “little old, cobble-stoned, grass-grown, red-roofed town, on the summit of its mildly pyramidal
hill”. It sounds like the stuff of literature, conjuring up images of a melancholy place with townsfolk busily going about their business. But this is no fictitious setting: for this was the description afforded to the town of Rye, in East Sussex, by American author Henry James when he moved there in 1898. Rye is indeed cobble-stoned,
red-roofed and, above all, ancient. Perched high on its hill overlooking the featureless Romney Marsh to the east, it is one of the head ports of the Cinque (pronounced sink) Ports. Created during the 11th century, the Cinque Ports of Rye, Dover, Sandwich, Winchelsea, Hastings, New Romney and Hythe all contributed vessels and crews towards the king’s fleet. At that time, the threat of invasion from France was very real; indeed, it remained so for hundreds of years. And while the threat may never have become reality, French raids were all too common along this stretch of the coast. Rye’s turn came in 1377, and again in 1448. In return for playing this vital role, the Cinque Ports were awarded certain privileges: exemption from national
taxes; local administration of justice; and what might best be described as a ‘tolerant’ attitude to certain unsavoury coastal activities such as smuggling. Consequently, Rye became a very prosperous place and, while the Cinque Ports’ role and privileges gradually diminished over the years, smuggling must certainly have helped retain their much-cherished prosperity. The sea has now retreated – the coast is almost two
“On May Day, the newly elected mayor throws warm pennies from the upper storeys of the town hall to the children below”
miles away. Nevertheless, the legacy of Rye’s former wealth and importance remains in its eye-popping medieval architecture. There’s a particularly fine selection on Mermaid Street – a steep, cobbled hill that clambers from the west towards High Street and the town centre. The cobbles, it is worth mentioning, are not of the granite sett variety. Rather, they are large, sea-rounded pebbles that have been set into mortar. Sore feet, beware! Many of Rye’s lanes and passageways are surfaced this way.
One of the largest buildings on Mermaid Street is the
15th-century Hartshorn House. Opulently Tudor in style, it was used as a hospital during the Napoleonic wars. And here, too, is Rye’s most famous building: the Mermaid Inn, black beamed and creeper covered. It proudly proclaims that it was “rebuilt in 1420”, although it dates originally from 1156. Additionally, it has one of England’s largest open fireplaces. The inn was well known to one of Rye’s
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