Part 2

Old Hall (Plate XXIII), have descended from father to son or through allied families, and the inheritance has been maintained, though possibly the structures have been reduced in size or otherwise altered. In some cases the buildings have passed into the hands of strangers willing and able to keep them in repair without modernising them out of recognition. Others, however, have ceased to be anything more than reminders of bygone days, and in various stages of preservation they appeal more or less to students and tourists. In some cases it requires abundant imagination to reconstruct the scenes of which they were the central features. It is easy enough with a few buildings, but we are confronted often by some structures which have become almost de-naturalised under the pressure of urban expansion. They remain as oases in the desert of modern bricks and mortar, dignified still in spite of the affronts of unsympathetic neighbours; but their beauty has faded and no amount of sentiment can gloss over their obvious defects, robbed of their original uses and maimed by their present purposes. The parks which occasionally remain around these old buildings save us sometimes from intensified regret.

Among the most interesting relics of antiquity still retaining an appearance of prosperity are many of the hostelries scattered throughout the country. It gives everyone genuine pleasure to visit the establishments which share with the local church the architectural honours of the village or town, even though, as in the case of a building within easy reach of London, the sign of the inn and the date 1604 are supplemented by the magic word “Garage.” This is typical of many such places for rest and refreshment which are renewing their youth through the revival in travel by road. One may drive beneath archways to the extensive courtyards where proprietors have welcomed the arrival of kings, queens, and courtiers in the olden times, and but for the total difference in costume and the means of conveyance there is very little change in the scene or in the accommodation provided. It often happens that such old places have been devoted originally to domestic purposes, as in the case of the Nag’s Head Inn, Leicester (Plate LIX), once a private house, and Feering House, Essex (Plate X), which, at the time Fairholt visited it to reconstruct its past, was far from presenting the scene of family happiness the artist so quaintly imagined. The somewhat florid structure which spanned the highway and included the sign of the White Hart Inn at Scole, Norfolk (Plate XLV), was removed before the nineteenth century, and Richardson relied for his drawing on an earlier picture. Similar, if not quite so ornate structures are still to be seen in many places. Historians never fail to relate the tradition that at the White Hart Inn, besides this wonderful carved wood structure, was a round bed large enough to hold twenty couples, accommodation which dims the importance attached to the great bed at Ware, that Tudor or earlier piece or elaborate carpentry with a capacity for a mere dozen people. Apart from such freak productions the bedsteads of olden times were usually of ample proportions and were often works of art. Beautifully designed, carved, and inlaid, they were in keeping with the other possessions of the fortunate owners. The example shown from Cumnor Place, Berkshire (Plate LII), with its massive pillars and roof, is a reminder of the great and perhaps excessive care bestowed on the manufacture of such pieces of furniture.

Distant history as represented by architecture is a subject which has engaged the attention of all students of national development, and to their extensive researches the public is deeply indebted. Architects and archaeologists also have pieced together the evidence available and have reconstructed the past with great thoroughness. The mode of life at different periods has been revealed by means of plans and other drawings, often prepared with infinite labour. By such illustrations and by the records which have been transcribed it is possible to visualize the appearance of the country and its inhabitants from the beginning. In this supremely interesting occupation we are helped by imagination and, moreover, we have the advantage of the imaginative efforts of others better qualified to clothe the framework of the story. To Sir Walter Scott the highest tribute must be paid, for though his visions and word-pictures cannot be relied upon always for minute accuracy, he caught the spirit of the past and with wonderful insight restored it in vivid language. His heart was in the work of making the past live again, and he succeeded in giving verisimilitude to the scenes he described.

Illustrations abound of the buildings of Elizabethan and Jacobean date, from the measured drawings which owe their origin to prize competitions among students, to the elaborate pictorial reconstructions which sometimes astonish us by their wealth of detail and fanciful accessories. Painters in Victorian days attempted with varying success to interpret the past, generally introducing architectural backgrounds as settings for the _dramatis personæ_. One of the chief artists of the period to attain success in this direction was George Cattermole (1800-1868), who in such pictures as _The Hunting Party_ and _Old English Hospitality_ proved himself to be well equipped with the necessary imagination and knowledge. He successfully illustrated Scott, and, indeed, founded his fame on his drawings inspired by the great author’s romances. One of Cattermole’s most distinguished contemporaries was Joseph Nash (1808-1878), in whose work the figures as a rule are subordinate to the architecture. This was to be expected from one who had been trained in the office of an architect, namely, the elder Pugin. Yet Nash, while treating buildings with the respect due to them, did not err on the side of technical hardness. He made the beauties of architecture intelligible to the public, contriving also to appeal to the professional mind. His object was to produce essentially picturesque interpretations, to make a set of views of the mansions of England from a new and attractive point of view. To use his own words, he tried to make them interesting, “not as many of them now appear, gloomy, desolate and neglected, but furnished with the rude comfort of early times or exhibiting the more splendid luxury and elegant hospitality of later periods; in short, the stately homes of England glowing with the genial warmth of their firesides and enlivened with the presence of their inmates and guests, enjoying the recreations and pastimes or celebrating the festivals of our ancestors. The artist has endeavoured to place himself in the position of a visitor to these ancient edifices, whose fancy peoples the deserted halls--stripped of all movable ornaments and looking damp and cheerless--with the family and household of the old English gentleman surrounded by everyday comforts, sharing the more rare and bounteous hospitalities offered to the guests or partaking of the boisterous merriment of Christmas gambols.”

Nash deserted the practice of architecture to good purpose, for he produced the standard books illustrating the mansions of the olden times existing in his day, and he made a greater name probably than he would have done had he stuck to the medium of bricks and mortar. The influence of his work was good, and as a transcriber of architecture for popular appreciation he occupies a similar place to that attained by the Lambs in their prose interpretations of Shakespeare. Both Cattermole and Nash were members of the “Old” Water Colour Society. They established traditions which endured and which are still to be detected in the exhibitions at the gallery in Pall Mall East.

Among other early Victorians who won fame by their representations of domestic architecture and accessories was C. J. Richardson (1806-1871), who was articled to Sir John Soane, and remained an architect, but devoted himself mainly to his task of illustrating the great work of the past. His drawings are more precise and laboured than those of Nash, but they are excellent records and enable us to realise the beauties of many buildings and details now destroyed or scattered. Thomas Allom (1804-1872), also a practising architect, produced some exceptionally good pictorial work, his Haddon Hall (Plate I) being typical. Ewan Christian (1814-1895), the architect of a large number of buildings, including the National Portrait Gallery, was a recipient of the Royal Gold Medal, and is better known by his building work than otherwise; but in his earlier days he executed many drawings of popular interest, such as Ince Hall (Plate III). Henry Shaw (1800-1873) is mainly known to fame by his architectural illustrations, many of which are included in this book. F. W. Fairholt (1814-1866) combined the life of author and artist with conspicuous success, his Horeham Hall (Plate XI) showing evidence of his deep love of pageantry as well as his architectural sympathies. A Belgian artist who lived and worked in London, Louis Haghe (1806-1885) established a considerable reputation for his able interpretations of old Flemish architecture, chiefly interiors. He was a most accomplished draughtsman, and, like other artists of the period, made great use of lithography as a medium. Though the drawings by Nash and other artists with similar ambitions come within the category of made-up pictures--that is to say, were inspired by the past rather than the present--they were often of considerable charm and bore few traces of being rather second-hand in design. To achieve success with a composition relying for its incidents and accessories on scenes enacted, or supposed to have been enacted, two centuries or more previously requires gifts of no mean order. Not only must there be a proper understanding of the sentiments of the times, but the people introduced must be dressed appropriately and must take their part in the proceedings naturally. Nash, of course, studied his backgrounds on the spot, and chose the point of view which would be most picturesque. For him it was then a comparatively simple matter to imagine what scenes had taken place there long years before. He saw with his mind’s eye and recorded his impressions with due regard to historical probability and artistic requirements.

Posterity owes much to the painstaking and capable artists who toured the country in search of likely material and who published the results of their labours in such a permanently attractive way. Without such drawings nothing would exist to remind us of some of the most interesting examples of craftsmanship produced in the preceding centuries. The illustrations are useful also for comparison with the modern views of buildings by means of photography, and it is curious to notice how much alike are some of the records. One often suspects photographers of taking up the same point of view as the less speedy draughtsmen of nearly a hundred years ago, not because one vantage-ground inevitably suggests itself, but because artists of the camera are inclined to follow the lead of their predecessors. This plagiarism may be forgiven, however, for it enables us to see exactly what changes have taken place in the interval of years.

Our thanks are due not only to those who illustrated but to those who published the drawings which are so valuable for reference, with the appropriate comments which accompanied them. The authors made light of difficult travel, and with much evident pleasure elaborated in prose the now hackneyed lines of Mrs. Hemans:

“The Stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand Amidst their tall ancestral trees O’er all the pleasant land.”

Happy should we be if we could give similar credit to those architects and craftsmen whose work was the best of its period but whose identities are unknown. They provided sources of pleasure and instruction, not only by the results of their skill but by inspiring artists of later generations to interpret their ideals and popularise their creations. Architects of modern times and students of all descriptions have searched in vain for information which would reveal the authorship of certain executed designs. Even when a clue has been obtained it has led to nothing definite, and the credit for much of the greatest building work is given to the client who paid for it, a thing not unknown in modern times. We are told that “Nonsuch” was built by King Henry VIII, Hampton Court by Cardinal Wolsey, and other venerable places were due, apparently, to the architectural genius of earls, knights, esquires, and other people. Perhaps these patrons did exercise considerable influence in the erection of the houses in which they intended to live, and in some cases it is likely that they superintended the work of quarrying the stone, felling the timber, and obtaining other materials. The anonymity of the real architect, as we should call him, was preserved, and, as in the case of the Gothic cathedrals, attributed to one or another bishop, we must be content to admire the work without knowing for certain to whom should be given the credit. The master builders and carpenters of the day succeeded as admirably in disguising their names as in doing their work, and it was not until the middle of the sixteenth century that the veil of obscurity was lifted.

When in 1563 John Shute published his “First and Chief Groundes of Architecture” he described himself as “Paynter and Archytecte,” but little is known of him in either capacity and his fame rests mainly on the publication of this excellent book on the Orders. Stephen Harrison, the designer of some fine triumphal arches for erection in London in 1603, “in honor of the High and mighty prince James, King of England,” described himself as “Joyner and Architect.” The latter word was evidently coming into use in England as a supplementary qualification. In June 1566 Queen Elizabeth laid the foundation-stone of the first Royal Exchange in London, known as “Britain’s Burse,” and the name of the architect employed by Sir Thomas Gresham was one Henry de Pas or Paschen, a native of Antwerp. It was not until 1570 that an English architect transmitted his name to posterity as the author of a notable example of domestic architecture. In the Soane Museum there is a plan of Kirby Hall (Plate XIV) on which John Thorpe wrote the words “Whereof I layd the first stone 1570”; and though Thorpe’s career and attainments have been the subject of acute discussion, he may be regarded as one of the first to emerge from obscurity. Afterwards came the Smithsons, father and son, Inigo Jones, Webb, Wren, and a succession of well-known architects. In addition to the names or architects arising from the depths of history there are other reminders of identity. On the exterior of Moreton Old Hall (Plate XXIII)is an inscription referring to William Moreton, MDLIX, and one, “Rycharde Dale, Carpeder, made thies windous by the Grac of God.” On the building known some years ago as “Nantwich Old Town Hall” (Plate XLIV) were the words “Richard Dale, Free-Mason, was the master carpenter in makinge this buyldinge, Anno Domini 1611”; and in the Victoria and Albert Museum is a beam of carved elm dated 1638 with the words, “I was set upp right and even per John Sommersett.” Such examples only whet our appetite for still earlier records of native workers. They existed in great numbers in spite of the fact that England in the sixteenth century was the home of many Italian artists who influenced the work of the day. Torrigiano arrived about 1510, and he found ample patronage, like many of his fellow-countrymen.

While it would be very instructive to know the names of those who designed and executed the Tudor buildings, it is doubtful if the facts ever will be established, and we must be content to admire without knowing to whom the credit should be given. Our appreciation is sincere, and we find unlimited interest in the remains of another industrial age. The question of authorship, however, though giving us opportunity for attribution, is not so important as the value of the buildings themselves. The problems of design and construction, the new planning, the means of decoration and equipment, such were the things which occupied the attention of our ancestors and which may now be traced and compared with subsequent architectural achievements. In Tudor times a domestic revolution was in progress. The accessories of life, possessed, if not enjoyed, by those who had gone before, were being thoroughly overhauled and were often condemned in the light of altered conditions. The barrack life of feudal and mediæval times had been changed gradually and the accommodation had become more private. Residential possibilities began to be conceived. Comforts suggested themselves and were adopted in the new houses which arose all over the country. Building became a passion with the wealthy, and with the demand for ideas there arose a supply of men desirous of devoting their lives to the building and embellishment of houses, an ambition of which the fruits may still be enjoyed to some extent.

Subdivision was one of the guiding principles in the evolution of domestic architecture. Time was when the barest necessities in the way of architecture sufficed for the accommodation of the chieftains and their servants, armed or otherwise. The main requirement was solidity. Everyone then shared the fortified castles, which were surrounded in many cases by moats, and lived under the most primitive conditions. In those days apparently the only way to find solitude in a home was to get committed to the dungeons, and there were drawbacks to those retreats. Gradually more privacy was obtained by the lord and his family. The large and lofty hall, with dais and minstrel gallery, continued to dominate the plan and remained the most serviceable apartment, common to all; but smaller rooms began to be included in new buildings or additions were made to the old places. The castles, though remaining primarily as places of defence and protection from the weather, began to be used for occupation also, and new elements entered into their design and construction. The keep developed, and eventually the domestic requirements of the establishment displaced the other considerations.

When Henry VIII came to the throne, richer than most kings or England had been and with unlimited resourcefulness, the time had come for the development of the domestic buildings of the country in a way hitherto impossible. Throughout the reigns of the Tudor sovereigns there was continuous activity in this direction, as well as in other departments of the national life, and the evidence which remains proves what an upheaval of thought took place. Hitherto the most important, if not the main, attribute of a residence was its invulnerable character. The walls were as wide as many rooms at the present day, and this solid mass of stone or brick was pierced by apertures, varying in size but generally only large enough to admit light without providing an entrance for an enemy. At the foot of the building the holes were especially small. If the windows were glazed at all it was with horn as often as not, though glass was easily procurable. Fireplaces had been features of the interiors for many years before Tudor times, and they were often supplemented by open hearths in the middle of the large hall, the smoke escaping through a louvre in the roof. An example of this effective mode of warming is still to be seen at Penshurst.

The somewhat prison-like characteristics of these early buildings became obsolete through the advent of more peaceful occupations and by the invention of weapons against which stone and brick could not stand. The impetus given to more rational building gathered in force and, inspired by a monarch himself enterprising in such matters, the results were to be seen everywhere. The lands and properties which changed hands at the Suppression of the Monasteries brought wealth to many people, who immediately began to re-house themselves on a scale in keeping with their ample resources. In these buildings of Henry’s time there remained an inclination towards strength, and the small window openings only disappeared slowly. There was evidently a certain reluctance in giving up the appearance of a fortified dwelling-place, even though the building itself would be practically useless to defend the inmates against new means of attack. By the time of Elizabeth, however, this lingering aversion to the purely domestic building had vanished, and while the exteriors began to be more ornamental the interiors were arranged with increasing regard for comfort and convenience. The Hall remained as the chief feature of the ground floor, though by this time some families had abandoned the practice of taking their meals with their retainers. The Long Gallery came into existence as the principal room upstairs, being serviceable for recreation and entertainment. Its bay windows, when not too numerous, contributed to the internal and external interest of the building. Wide and majestic wooden staircases came into use and the spaciousness of the period was expressed admirably. Gardens, laid out with architectural forethought, began to form component parts of houses, and an air of opulence and peace pervaded the country, in spite of the fact that war-like preparations were in progress. The expansion of England was reflected in the architecture and decorations of the period, and under the influence of wealth, prosperity, and inclination new ideas were generated. The transition from mediæval life was complete. After the defeat of the Invincible Armada the work of building went on with undiminished force; and though the Palladian era was beginning, destroying the simplicity and charm of the earlier period, the houses of the time were far from being destitute of attraction and significance.

Tudor architecture appeals to us for many reasons, and not least because of its human associations. In the presence of such a building as Hampton Court we are reminded of various periods of architecture and different generations of notable people. The names occur to us of many royal personages who lived there. We think of Wren ending his days near to the structure with which he was so intimately associated. But it is the memory of Wolsey which takes the foremost place in our thoughts. Everyone knows the pretty story of the Cardinal’s diplomacy in presenting the building to the monarch who so much appreciated it before and after it came into his possession. Its history, however, began some years before that, and it is to the events of those early days that we are specially attracted. We imagine Cardinal Wolsey securing the position of Lord Chancellor and setting builders and craftsmen to work on a suitable abode with total disregard to cost. Arrangements had to be made in the scheme for a great household and for the hundreds of guests and their retainers who in due course went to the noble residence on the banks of the Upper Thames. Wolsey’s hospitality monopolised the services or an army of dependents and the planning of the place was tested severely. To understand the requirements of Hampton Court in those days we may turn to the life of Wolsey written by George Cavendish in the sixteenth century. There we may read of the historic entertainment provided for the ambassadors from France. The Cardinal called for the principal officers of his house, such as his steward, comptroller, and the clerks of his kitchen, ordering them to prepare the best banquet that