THE HUNDRED BEST

I have spent my life exploring England. Many of my views may not seem imaginative choices, since they have been favourites of so many people across time. Locations such as the White Cliffs of Dover, the tors of Dartmoor, Windermere and Dovedale are embedded in England’s personality. They are depicted on a thousand prints, posters and calendars. I chose other views for their associations: Salisbury, Flatford Mill and Snape Marshes. Many I discovered in my ramblings and at the suggestion of friends, the more rewarding for being less well-known, such as Hartland, Little Bredy, High Cup Nick and Coquetdale.

I sympathise with Gilpin’s idea of composition, of foreground, distance and character. This was reflected in Constable’s ‘rearrangement’ of his landscapes as he transferred them from sketch to finished canvas. But I gave up wasting time shifting this way and that to get ‘just the right’ angle, Gilpin-style, reminding myself that a view is not a picture but the act of looking at one. That said, many places have a ‘good’ side, and in such instances I have chosen my viewpoints accordingly. In some cases there was a tussle between angles on the same scene – Greenwich from above or below, Derwentwater from either end, or the long Cotswold escarpment. In each case many vistas offered themselves. Indeed the Lake District is entirely composed of views.

Scale alone was not enough. The fact that a dozen counties could be seen from a summit added little by way of appeal. I also ruled out the difficulty of access, such as views from mountain tops. I therefore set a limit of a half-hour walk from a public road. In my experience, most views gain in contrast and perspective from being ‘halfway up’, whereas views from a great height tended to be more like maps. Hence I prefer Ullswater from Gowbarrow, Kinder from Mam Tor and the City of London from The Monument.

I realise that most of my choices are either along England’s limestone spine or from points west of it. This is simply because most views benefit from contour. I am aware I have short-changed the Lincolnshire Wolds, the Essex marshes and the East Midlands among others. England’s low-lying eastern regions are beautiful and much loved, but their views rely heavily on sky, sea and light. They fulfil my earlier-noted criterion of atmosphere but generally lack the sweep and variety to constitute a great view. That said, I plead in my defence Lindisfarne, Bempton, Sheringham and Snape.

Since I have written elsewhere about individual buildings, I decided to treat them as views only where they formed part of a wider prospect, such as at Stowe, Holkham and Chatsworth. Urban landscapes were more difficult. Dorothy Wordsworth chided her brother for not treating man-made scenery as a legitimate source of beauty. He was prompted to write ‘Upon Westminster Bridge’, in which he maintained that ‘Earth has not anything to show more fair’ than London seen from there. I regard London’s modern skyline, and therefore most of its views, as largely a ‘ruin’ of a landscape. But it undeniably embraces some of England’s best known and most cherished prospects. So, with a critical eye, I have included them.

Elsewhere I have included Liverpool, Durham, Bath, Oxford and smaller towns such as Lavenham and Chipping Campden. Some might seem overly ‘chocolate box’, but that is because chocolate box makers know what is popular, and popular for a reason. As for other cities, the wreckage inflicted on their streetscapes and skylines by post-war planning and architecture is the most glaring comment on the cultural decline of the English in matters visual. Future generations may come to see today’s Bristol, Birmingham, Manchester and Sheffield as beautiful. I can only doubt it.

Any journey across the English landscape is bound to be conditioned by weather. Few people are immune to sun and blue sky, which bring nature to life and raise the dullest spirits. What is little realised, especially by those who holiday abroad, is how rarely it rains in England for any extended period. A ‘rainy day’ is more typically just a rainy hour. This book was researched for the most part in the exceptionally wet years of 2011 and 2012, but not one day was wiped out by rain. Indeed, I found a constant source of delight in the changeability of the English climate, the chasing clouds, the sudden squalls, the shafts of sunlight.

I have tried to choose views that can be appreciated throughout the year, though some will naturally be better in certain seasons, or even at certain times of day. Kynance is not much fun in winter and Hartside is best in a storm. Distant Helvellyn likes snow. The view from Waterloo Bridge may be painful to those schooled on the London of Canaletto and Wordsworth, but it comes alive at night. I have mostly avoided illustrations that fall for the clichés of garish sunsets and moody mists, despite their unarguable photogenicity.

To list a mere hundred English views is a stern discipline. I must apologise if many a reader’s favourite is not on the list. I have discovered, to my initial surprise, that views arouse fiercer passions than buildings. When I asked friends to nominate their favourites, I was surprised yet delighted at how many began with ‘the view from my back garden’. It shows the depth of feeling this subject inspires. Views are no trifling matter.