Lost Heritage

Location		Eashing
Year demolished		1957
Reason		Dw, Su
See all images:		No images available yet
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Eashing House, was noted for the varieties of roses which eventually were to adorn the extensive gardens. The Classical-style house, designed by an unknown architect, was constructed between 1729 and 1736 by Ezra Gill, a prominent Quaker, and owner of Jordans, an important Quaker meeting house in Eashing. Gill had been buying land to create an estate since the early 1720s, a policy continued by his sons - William and Henry, who, by 1800, had managed to purchase almost the the whole hamlet of Eashing and further land extending to other nearby villages, as shown in a 'Survey of William Gill Esq. Estates', dated 1773. Gill passed away in the year of the house’s completion, and having passed to William, it was subsequently inherited by his daughter, Mary, who married James Henry Frankland who took the surname Gill to enable him to inherit the estate. The house and estate remained in the possession of his descendants until 1929.

An account from Country Life magazine in 1889 describes Eashing Park as a residence of substantial comfort, situated in the scenic landscape near Godalming in Surrey. The house commanded an extensive view over the valley towards Pepperharrowe and Frensham, an area characterized by varied terrain and notable trees. The estate included a broad grass terrace with an open-work brick parapet offering panoramic views, while the gardens, accessed through a belt of mature beech trees, were renowned for their extensive rose displays.

Although Eashing Park itself was Georgian, the location bears traces of Tudor-era features, including an old laundry building with characteristic architectural details, as well as brick walls and garden seats that date from earlier periods.

Between the 1880s and 1900, the house was leased to Lord Penzance, an Exchequer judge appointed in 1860. He continued in his ecclesiastical appointment until 1889, though he had retired to Eashing Park between 1872 and 1875. During his residency, Lord Penzance gained recognition for cultivating hybrid sweet briar roses, a passion that earned him a place among notable horticulturists. His influence in the field is well-documented, and he contributed to horticultural publications and the Royal Horticultural Society. Lord Penzance and his wife were later buried in Shackleford Churchyard.

Eventually, the house was inherited by a descendent of Ezra Gill, Miss Agnes Seymour Kerr. On her death in 1929, she bequeathed the estate to her cousin Hon. James Angus Grey McDonnell, the younger son of the 7th Earl of Antrim, who was eleven years old at the time. The estate was subsequently sold in 1943. Prior to its sale, Eashing Park was requisitioned in 1940 for military use, serving first as a base for the Highland Division and later for Canadian and New Zealand troops during the Second World War. Following the war, the house was split into smaller flats to help accommodate those displaced locally (see the recollections of one of the last residents below). By now, the house was owned by a local farmer who had no use for such a house and ultimately it was demolished in 1957. A smaller residence was built on the site in the 1960s (and which has been rather strikingly updated), and the Coach House was converted for domestic use. The nearby Brew House, which dates from the 16th-century, remains as a historical feature of the estate.

Joyce Carter kindly contacted me with these memories of her time living in Eashing Park. The words are copyright to her and I am very grateful to Mrs Carter for sharing them.

I lived there as a small child in the last phase of its existence. It had been requisitioned during WWII, and after use by Canadian troops, I believe, was then handed to the local council and divided into flats to help ease the post-war housing shortage. My family was among the last to be moved out, in (I think) June of 1956. The house was being handed back to Farmer Stovold, the landowner, to be demolished.

We were on the ground floor: our living room was the main part of the ballroom, with the kitchen partitioned off in one corner, and the neighbour's children's bedroom off the other end, my parents' bedroom and the bathroom had been the drawing room, and my bedroom had been Lady Antrim's boudoir. (My family enjoyed folk dancing, and once held a folk dance in our living room - certainly the last dance in Eashing's ballroom.) All the rooms had 14-foot ceilings with plaster mouldings, and sash windows from ground level rising almost that high.

The name 'Eashing Park' for the house continued in our day, interchangeably with 'Eashing House'. Someone once called on my mother with some documents to sign, and she pointed out one place where it said 'Eashing Bark House', joking, 'Are we in disgrace? They think we live in the doghouse,' and the man replied, utterly straight-faced, 'No, madam, that will have been a typing error.'

To add a little to your knowledge of the last days...

The formal gardens had been done away with, there was a broad sweep of plain, mown grass, about a road's width, immediately outside the house, then the rest of the space, out to the trees, was given over to gardens for the inhabitants of the flats. My father and mother raised vegetables and a few flowers just in front of that tree. Just beyond the trees, Farmer Stovold's fields began, and it was a great nuisance when he reared pigs over there, as the little ones used to get through the fence. It was VERY funny to see my mother chasing them along the rows of sprouts and cabbages, wielding the clothes prop, as they were clever enough to hide and come out behind her. My father complained of the damage, and the farmer sent an apology, and an invitation to pick as many vegetables as we wanted from another of his fields, off the lane between Eashing and Milford, which we did.

Over to the right of the house as seen in the Country Life picture, Stovold used to raise turkeys for the Christmas market, and in summer, this attracted so many flies - bluebottles - that it was a real trial. I remember our table at tea-time being laid with a big muslin cloth over the top of everything, food, place-settings and all, and putting my hand, with the rest of my sandwich or piece of cake, back in under the muslin while I ate, otherwise the flies would land on it. The turkeys were nervous creatures. In those days, the first trials of supersonic flight were being held, and the famous test pilot, Neville Duke, used a route which often passed overhead. There would be a window-rattling double bang as he broke the sound barrier, and all the turkeys gobbled in terrific panic every time, after which the farmer would arrive, cursing (we children learnt a bit from listening!), to pick up an armful that had dropped dead from fright.