arts|buildings|collections BULLETIN spring issue may 2013

National Trust

UNUSUAL SKILL AND ENTERPRISEAnglesey Abbey and the Cambridge Tapestry Company

continued on page

SUMMER LIGHTNING: A GASPARD DUGHET FOR OSTERLEY PARK

INSIDE

4 Lighting for spirit of place at Attingham

5 The signalman Baronet of Golden Cap

7 From kitchen to library at Owletts

8 Recovering The Wilderness at Ham House

10 A 17th-century drawing at Ham House

11 Globalised lacquer

13 Ham House - a new history by Christopher Rowell

14 An early American book at Blickling

16 Rebuilding Ralph Dutton’s library

18 Acquisitions

Anglesey Abbey in Cambridgeshire is home to a collection of 30 tapestries, all purchased by Hut-tleston Broughton, First Lord Fairhaven (1896-1966)

in the early decades of the 20th century. The son of an English industrialist and an American heiress, Lord Fairhaven bought Anglesey Abbey in 1926 because of its proximity to Newmarket racecourse and the quality of the local partridge shooting. He never married, but filled the house with an out-standing collection of paintings, silver and other objets d’art.

As a collector he was unusual for his day: while his contemporaries in Britain and America were avidly seeking out medieval tapestries, he focussed on the 17th century. In many cases he had little or no information on the manufacture or provenance of what he bought, which makes the quality of his acquisitions all the more impressive: among the previously unidentified masterpieces of the collection are a rare mid-17th-century Bruges tapestry, The Kindness of Rebecca; a panel from a series of the History of Artemisia, made in Paris in the 1610s for the Duke of Savoy; and an armorial tapestry from a vast series woven in Brussels for the Governor of the Spanish Netherlands, the Marquez de Benavides, in the 1660s.1

But perhaps the most unusual items in Fairhaven’s collec-tion are two tapestries he himself commissioned in the 1930s from the Cambridge Tapestry Company. The first is an aerial view of Anglesey Abbey with the Cambridgeshire landscape stretching away beyond, dotted with local villages and land-marks all conscientiously labelled. The second is a large-scale armorial panel, closely based on the Benavides armorial, but this time with Fairhaven’s own arms. Both are woven in a consciously traditional style, complete with monograms in the galloons (plain outer edges) imitating those used by the 17th-century Flemish workshops, and even with the

‘The Arms of Huttleston Rogers Broughton, First Lord Fairhaven’, Cambridge Tapestry Company, . Tapestry, wool, silk and metal thread. Anglesey Abbey, The Fairhaven Collection

A painting attributed to Gaspard Dughet (1615-1675), Landscape with a Storm, was given to Osterley by the estate of Sir Denis Mahon (1910-2011). The picture had been on loan to Osterley since 2001. Emile de Bruijn, Registrar (Collections & Grants)

hel

en w

yld

gilt-metal wrapped thread found in Fairhaven’s higher- quality historic tapestries. Such details were far from difficult for the Cambridge workshop to create: theirs was in fact one of the most skilled tapestry restoration studios in the country.

The origins of the Cambridge Tapestry Company lie in the village of Ickleford in Hertfordshire, where in 1900 Walter and Marian Witter began teaching local children the skills of embroidery and metal working, officially establishing themselves as Ickleford Industries in 1904. A few years later the Witters became friends with Gabriel Gonnet, who had trained at the Manufacture des Gobelins in Paris, and he sent two men to Ickleford to teach tapestry weaving and restoration.2 This coincided with a rapidly growing demand for antique tapestries, mainly among American collectors, and in this climate the restoration business naturally flourished. In 1916 new premises were bought at 30 Thompson’s Lane, Cambridge, and the Cambridge Tapestry Company was officially established. One former employee remembers that during the 1920s there were as many as 80 workers, mainly young women, in each of the company’s two workrooms.

The two principal activities of the firm were the restoration of tapestries and other textiles, and the production of new needlework and embroidery. An early 16th-century tapestry, The Triumph of the Virgin, now in the Burrell Collection, reveals the sophistication of the company’s restoration work. This tapestry had been acquired by the New York dealers French & Company and was sent to Cambridge to be restored in 1936. A large area was missing from one corner, and this was completely rewoven following a new cartoon devised by one of the artists in the company’s Drawing Room, Mary Rhodes, who would later recall with great pride her work on the tapestry. In 1939 The Triumph of the Virgin was sold to Sir William Burrell, the most prolific collector of medieval tapestries in Britain, who only later realised the extent of the reweaving, and subse-quent art historians have puzzled over the iconography of the new section.3 This itself is a testament to the quality of the work, which is extremely high, both in design and execution. One former weaver recalled that to disguise new repairs the workers would rub burnt umber into the surface to dull the colours, stuff old bits of wool into a brass pipe with methylated spirits to remove fluffiness, flatten the surface by beating with rusty chains, and paste robin starch onto the back to stiffen the newly worked areas.4

A number of pieces of needlework produced by the company are known, including a double-sided screen in the National Trust’s collection at Lanhydrock in Devon. This has a design of a medieval hunting scene based on a cartoon owned by descendants of the com-pany’s founders Mr and Mrs Witter (see page 3).5 A similar screen appeared in an exhibition in Sydney in 1938, which also included a needlework picture of a figure on a beach, a modernist design unu-sual for the Cambridge Tapestry Company.6 Most of the company’s products were very traditional in style and function. Large quantities of needlework furniture covers were produced, similar in character to the Lanhydrock screen, some of which were used on furniture sold by the restoration studio and dealership run by Basil Dighton, one of the Tapestry Company’s directors—who in 1923 was taken to court for selling fake chairs. Numerous individual commissions were also executed, such as a ceremonial standard for the County of Bedfordshire made in 1932. At the Ickleford workshop, which was maintained after the move to Cambridge in 1916, designs for canvas work were produced and sold for amateurs to work from.

Despite the range of activities undertaken in Thompson’s Lane and at Ickleford, Lord Fairhaven’s commission of Anglesey Abbey in 1934 seems to have been the first entirely new tapestry woven by the company. Lord Fairhaven may already have employed the workshop to restore or alter some of his newly acquired collection: certain pieces have been professionally altered to fit the sizes of various walls at Anglesey Abbey. The design of the tapestry, with the house set in the midst of a carefully delineated Cambridgeshire landscape, many of whose landmarks had personal significance to Lord Fairhaven, underlines his connections with the area he had chosen as his home. A newspaper article published soon after the tapestry had been completed highlights many such details:

‘The work has been carried out in similar technique used in the 17th and 18th century Flemish Tapestries, and though illustrating certain modern buildings, much effort throughout has been made to impart a feeling of antiquity, to be worthy of its position in the historic home of its purchaser, which is shown in the centre, standing near the villages of Lode and Quy. To a certain extent “artist’s license” has been taken regarding the actual position of the surrounding towns and villages, from each of which have been gathered characteristic features—for example, the new University Library of Cambridge, the new Jockey Club rooms at Newmarket and the Village Hall at Lode, the latter having been presented by Lord Fairhaven, and erected as a memorial to his father ... Regard-ing the drawing of the Abbey itself particularly, much assistance to obtain the desired effect, was given by very beautiful aerial photographs, lent by Lord Fairhaven. The wild fowl in the foreground, not only have decorative value in the composition of the picture, but are actually in existence in the grounds of Anglesey Abbey, including the golden pheasant, seen perching on the right of the picture, together with woodcock, wild duck, etc.; all of which are carefully protected, and find sanctuary in this enviable spot.’7

2arts|buildings|collections bulletin

‘Anglesey Abbey’, Cambridge Tapestry Company, . Tapestry, wool, silk and metal thread. Anglesey Abbey, The Fairhaven Collection

hel

en w

yld

Interest in the tapestry was high, and it was even reported, and illustrated, in The Times. One observer also noted that the design, with its rolling landscape dotted with landmarks, was reminiscent of the famous Sheldon tapestry maps, which had caused a sensation in the world of English textiles in the preceding decades.

The designer of the tapestry (and of the later armorial woven for Lord Fairhaven) was Clifford Barber, who joined the Cambridge Tapestry Company as a young man having trained at the Cambridge School of Art. He was the first locally-trained designer to join the drawing office, and he stayed until the workshop closed in 1943. His precise and skilful designs are perfectly in keeping with the collec-tion of 17th-century tapestries at Anglesey Abbey, a reflection, no doubt, of his experience in designing cartoons for missing sections of old tapestries under restoration.

During the weaving of Anglesey Abbey, Lady Fetherstonhaugh arranged to bring the Princess (later Queen) Mary to visit Cambridge to see the work in progress. The future queen report-edly expressed great interest and this led, in 1935, to friends of King George V commissioning the firm to design and weave a tapestry of Windsor Castle to commemorate the Silver Jubilee of that year. The Royal Jubilee Tapestry was again designed by Barber, this time with advice from Professor A. J. B. Wace, Keeper of Textiles at the Victoria & Albert Museum.8 The Jubilee tapestry originally hung in the Guard’s Chamber at Windsor Castle. This project led to other royal commissions, including a set of embroidered throne covers for the coronation of George VI in 1937.

Despite these important commissions the 1930s saw a general decline for the Cambridge Tapestry Company, partly due to the impact of the 1929 crash on the international art trade. Lord Fairhaven continued to take a keen interest, however, and in 1937 he commissioned another new tapestry—The Arms of Lord Fairhaven (see page 1). The tapestry was modelled on one already in the collection at Anglesey Abbey, The Arms of José Luis de Benavides, Marques de Caracena mentioned above, replacing the Spanish no-bleman’s arms with Fairhaven’s (even constructing for him a fanciful pedigree), and playfully inserting a view of Anglesey Abbey into the landscape below, in place of a view of an unidentified hilltop town in the original. The two supporters, Mars and Minerva, are retained, as are the cherubs supporting the central shield on wide ribbons—their features, so the story goes, based on those of two of the young women who wove the tapestry.

Like the Anglesey Abbey panel, The Arms of Lord Fairhaven is signed with the company’s CTC monogram and dated. A new monogram, in the form of two Cs facing each other on either side of the shield of the city of Cambridge, also appears on the lower galloon. This is a direct imitation of the mark used by the Brussels tapissiers of two Bs, standing for Brabant and Brussels, on either side of the city’s plain red shield, a mark which survives on the Benavides armorial.

Sadly the Arms of Lord Fairhaven was to be the last large-scale tapestry made by the Cambridge Tapestry Company. Not long afterwards a panel of Glamis Castle was begun for Queen Mary, but only about an inch had been woven by 1942 when materials became unobtainable. In 1939 much of the company’s stock had already been sold to the Royal School of Needlework. Lord Fairhaven and Professor Wace made efforts to keep the weavers together, and a series of letters and accounts now held at Anglesey Abbey indicate that the former had a financial interest in the company in its last years, as summary accounts were submitted to him—showing an

increasing loss. Business was officially stopped in 1941 with the exception of jobs already in hand, and in March 1943 the premises at Thompson’s Lane were vacated.

The two tapestries at Anglesey Abbey remain the most impres-sive memorial to the skill and enterprise of the Cambridge Tapestry Company. The figurative designs, fine weave, and the use of silk and gold and silver thread exemplify techniques abandoned by most modern tapestry workshops, but familiar to the Cambridge weavers from their restoration work. The resulting tapestries could be dismissed as mere pastiches, but they also stand as a record of their patron’s unusual sensitivity to the tapestry medium and his desire to support a valuable local industry—not to mention the consummate skill of the Cambridge weavers, much of whose restoration work today no doubt goes unnoticed, as they would have intended.

Helen Wyld, Tapestry Curator, National Trust

3arts|buildings|collections bulletin

‘Screen with Hunting Scene’, Cambridge Tapestry Company, c.. Embroidery, wool and canvas. Lanhydrock, The Robartes Collection

1 Catalogue entries on the tapestries at Anglesey Abbey can be found at: http://www.nationaltrustcollections.org.uk.

2 http://tw2091b.twsbroadband.co.uk/cambridgetapestry.htm. Accessed 11 April 2013. This website includes extensive information relating to the Cambridge Tapestry Company.

3 Information kindly supplied by Sarah Foskett following her paper ‘The Triumph of the Virgin: unravelling authenticities in a Glasgow Museums’ tapestry’ at the conference The Real Thing?, University of Glasgow, 6-7 December 2012.

4 Judy Cheney, ‘The Cambridge Tapestry Company’, Cambridgeshire Guild of Spinners and Dyers Newsletter, 14 January 1988 (n.p.).

5 Inventory no. 883242; http://tw2091b.twsbroadband.co.uk/cambridgetapestry.htm.

6 Described in the Sydney Morning Herald, 8 June 1938.7 Independent Press and Chronicle, 19 October 1934.8 The Times, 9 January 1934, 27 July 1936; Clifford Barber, ‘A Little Known

Cambridge Industry’, The Cam, May 1937, pp. 136-8; Clifford Barber, articles in The Master Key, September and August 1936; ‘Peerless skills faded away during the war’, Cambridge Weekly News, 28 July 1988.

hel

en w

yld

4arts|buildings|collections bulletin

LIGHTING FOR SPIRIT OF PLACE AT ATTINGHAM At Attingham Park, the National Trust’s Regency mansion in Shropshire, the Attingham Re-dis-covered Project has been painstakingly conserving, restoring and re-presenting the mansion’s historic interiors over the last seven years. The aim is not only to improve historical accuracy and conser-vation performance, but also to increase atmosphere and draw out the property’s Spirit of Place in order to deepen the visitor experience.

In addition to focusing on the grand state rooms, the Attingham Re-discovered Project has recently been apply-ing the same thoughtful approach to some of Attingham’s catering and retail facilities, recognising that the same Spirit of Place should ideally flow throughout all aspects of the visitor experience. When some of those visitor facilities are actually within the historic mansion itself, a seamless sense of the property’s atmosphere is even more important, so that the ‘spell’ is not broken. The Butler’s Pantry, on the male side of Attingham’s domestic offices, is a subtle re-evocation of the butler’s historic rooms, combined with an atmospheric ‘shop that doesn’t feel like a shop’.

The lighting is a critical element of achieving this

suspension of disbelief. It comprises concealed warm white LED light-ing in cupboards to subtly highlight the products, LED strips above furniture to ‘wash’ the walls, con-cealed LED spots, oil lamps adapted to take battery packs and col-oured with gel to create a yellow glow, battery candles and carbon filament bulbs under coolie shades.

The products on sale are from the nor-mal Trust’s range, but

specifically chosen to reflect the duties and responsibilities of the butler. Plastic packaging, sticky price labels and bar codes are banned—instead the items have hand-written brown tags tied on with string and are wrapped for the customer in brown paper with co-ordinating tissue paper. The Butler’s Pantry even has its own design device, adapted from a paper embosser belonging to one of the Berwicks; ‘B’ for Berwick and ‘B’ for Butler.

The Butler’s Pantry lighting scheme was masterminded by Treehouse Media (who have experience in television and lighting drama sets), working with the property’s Curator and in-house electrician. A further collaborative project is being undertaken in Attingham’s stable block, the Grooms’ Bookshop, opening March 2013.

Sarah Kay, Project Curator

5arts|buildings|collections bulletin

‘SEA FENCIBLES’ ALONG THE DORSET COASTLieutenant John Twisden, signalman Baronet of Golden Cap

Golden Cap in west Dorset is the highest cliff on the south coast. On its flat

summit are a line of four Bronze Age barrows. At the foot of its western slope lie the ruins of medieval Stanton St Gabriel chapel, abandoned in the 1840s. Thirty years earlier, a certain Lt. John Twisden had walked down the hill with his family and baptised his children there.

In prehistory, Golden Cap had been a place to look up to, a skyline on which to build monuments to remember the ancestors. Two hun-dred years ago, the barrows were altered to create a signal station, and John Twisden was put in charge to scan the seas for the expected Napoleonic invasion.

The soft geology of this stretch of coast is affected by rapid coastal erosion, and the 4000-year-old barrows on Golden Cap are likely to fall into the sea within the next 50 years. In 2011, therefore, National Trust archaeologists carried out a rescue excavation. Three of the four barrows were half-sectioned, and all contained evidence of the signal station. One mound had been flattened to create the foundation for a wooden signal house. Two of the neighbouring barrows had been cut back to enable another hut to be built, and each of the three mounds had deep shafts cut

through their centres. The rubble infill contained bricks, nails, meat bones, buttons and worn coins of George III [see bibliograhy, Papworth].

A search within the Admiralty records at Kew found account books, letters and log books for Golden Cap. They provided details of the signal station, and also information about the officer in charge. These, together with other documentary sources, revealed a fascinating personal story.

John Twisden (1767-1853), born in Portsmouth, was the son of William Twisden (1741-71) and Mary Kirk (1744-71). William should have been the 7th Baronet Twisden of Brad-bourne in Kent, but he had been disinherited: his father, Sir Roger, disapproved of his marriage and gave the title and estate to Wil-liam’s younger brother John Papillon [Hatton and Hatton pp. 47-48].

John’s father and mother both died within six months of each other in 1771. The orphan joined the Royal Navy when he was 12 to become the servant of Admiral Geary and Captain Clayton on HMS ‘Victory’. In 1781 he

sailed to America and the West Indies and became an Able Seaman and then a Midshipman. By 1790 he was a Lieutenant, and in 1794 he was given the command of the gun vessel ‘Fearless’ and then in 1795 of the armed vessel ‘Alfred’. By December 1796 he had been posted to the newly constructed Golden Cup Signal (as it was known at the time), a command that continued until 1814 [ADM 17/101]. Lt. Twisden was under the command of Captain Nick Ingram, who was in charge of the whole Dorset coastal defence network (the ‘sea fencibles’).

John had married Ann Hammond in 1791. Altogether they had thirteen children, of whom seven were born while he was in charge of the signal station—three of them were baptised in the now ruined Stanton Chapel.

The war with France between 1793 and 1815 created a real danger of coastal raids and invasion along the south coast. Therefore in 1794 a signalling system was devised, and a series of stations was set up. Golden Cap was not originally a signal site, and does not seem to have been in full operation until 1798.

The signal stations were usually built of wood and erected as cheaply as possible—the Golden Cup station cost £109 [Clammer 2012 p.17]. One assumes that once put together, each station origi-nally looked much the same as the next, although as time went by each one may have been modified by the residents [Clammer 2012 p.21; ADM 1/3092]. Each station usually had a complement

View from Ridge Cliff looking west to Golden Cap, Dorset

nt im

ages

/ j

oe c

orn

ish

Signal mast with flags and canvas balls

crow

n c

opyr

igh

t

6arts|buildings|collections bulletin

of four, a Lieutenant, a Petty Officer and two men [ADM 17/98]. Drawings for a typical signal house survive [ADM 106/3125].

It was a single-storey building with a front porch leading into the Officer’s Dining Room and the adjoining Officer’s Bedroom. Opposite the porch was a Men’s Room containing the Officer’s Pantry. There was a central chimney stack, with fireplaces in the officer’s dining room and the men’s room. On the left side of the building was a smaller area with an outside access door where the signalling gear was stored.

The alterations to the Golden Cap barrows were no doubt made to use their bulk to screen the buildings from the south-westerly winds. The exposed location of these outposts is described by Lt. Gardner of Fairlight, a signal station near Hastings: ‘From our elevated situation I have often been in dread for the safety of the house, particularly in the SW gales … I’m astonished that the house did not blow away’ [Hamilton and Laughton p.254].

The holes in the tops of the barrows are likely to have been dug as foundations for the signal mast, which needed to be replaced from time to time [Clammer 2012 p.22]. A yard arm was attached to the mast; by using ropes and pulleys, a red flag, a blue pennant and four canvas balls were arranged in various combinations along the yard and mast to convey messages. Generally the code for the

signals was only known by the Lieutenant, who would instruct his men to rig the mast with the appropriate message when necessary [Clammer 2010 p.58].

Lt. Gardner describes the chief responsibilities of the com-mander. He was to ensure that both neighbouring stations were constantly observed so as to relay signals ‘by night and by day’ to warn against threatened invasion by the French. In addition to the signal mechanism, a ‘blue light’ and a fire beacon were to be kept in constant readiness for night signals [Hamilton and Laughton p.253]. Gardner acknowledged that the signal stations were virtually useless in foggy conditions: ‘We had no relaxation of duty except in a thick fog which sometimes would take place for nine or ten days together, during which time we had only to walk round the cliffs and along the seashore’ [Ibid].

For eighteen years Lt. Twisden created a home at Golden Cap. He was expected to remain there at all times unless given leave of absence [Clammer 2012 p.21]. It seems that Twisden, his wife and children lived together with the crew in the small wooden station.

In November 1814 the stations were closed and the men paid off. The Lieutenant was expected to sell the stores for the Admiralty, and then leave the station and the Navy [Clammer 2012 p.24]. John Twisden gained a two-week extension [ADM 17/101] and then found new employment.

In 1815 Twisden was appointed clerk for the Great Western Canal Company. The business established a navigable water-way from Taunton to Tiverton [Dodd pp.294-300]. In 1834 he registered a patent for an improved canal lock, an idea which was modified and used on the canal by the engineer James Green. In 1836 Twisden became superintendent, and by the 1840s the canal was complete.

At this time John Twisden won a court battle that enabled him to succeed to the title of 7th Baronet of Bradbourne. The 1851 census describes him as head of the family, living at Bradbourne House in Kent with three of his daughters, who were born while he was at Golden Cap. He died two years later at the age of 85. The disinherited orphan, who went to sea aged 12, ended his days as a baronet in his ancestral home [Hatton and Hatton p.48].

Martin Papworth, Archaeologist, South West region

AcknowledgementsI wish to thank Maeve and Colin Roberts for generously provid-ing information from their extensive Napoleonic signal station research.

BibliographyClammer, D., 2010, ‘The Sea Fencibles in Dorset’, Proceedings of the Dorset Natural History and Archaeological Society 131, pp.53-63.Clammer, D., 2012, ‘Naval Signal Stations on the Dorset Coast’, Proceedings of the Dorset Natural History and Archaeological Society 133, pp.17-25.Dodd, D., 2006, ‘Boat Lifts of the Great Western Canal’, Journal of the Railways and Canals Historical Society 35, Part 4, no. 194, pp.294-300.Hamilton, Sir R. Vesy, and Laughton, J.Knox, 1906, Recollections of James Anthony Gardner, The Navy Record Society.Hatton, R.G. and Rev. C.H., 1945, ‘Notes on the Family of Twysden and Twisden’, Archaeologia Cantiana 58, pp. 47-48.Papworth, M., 2013, ‘Excavations at Thorncombe Beacon, Doghouse Hill and Golden Cap on the Golden Cap Estate, West Dorset’, Proceedings of the Dorset Natural History and Archaeological Society 134 (forthcoming)

National Archives (NA)Admiralty Records (ADM)ADM 1/3167-3178 Lieutenant in-letters ADM 1/5052-55 Promiscuous CorrespondenceADM 9/6 1746 Service Record Lt. John TwisdenADM 12 IndexesADM 17/101 Accounts Golden Cup station

mar

tin

pap

wor

thDoghouse Hill excavation

Excavation of Napoleonic pottery from between two barrows at Golden Cap

7arts|buildings|collections bulletin

OWLETTS: FROM KITCHEN BACK TO LIBRARYOwletts, the birthplace and family home of the architect Sir Herbert Baker (1862-1946), reopened its doors to visitors in April 2013 following the comple-tion of a two-year major building and conserva-tion project. This elegant Restoration-period house —built in 1683—was described by Baker as ‘a small but typical homestead of the seventeenth century squire-farmers of Kent … not unworthy of preservation’ 1.

In his day Baker was one of Britain’s most prominent archi-tects, with major commissions in the Empire and at home, but today he is less well known, certainly in comparison with his contemporary and friend Sir Edwin Lutyens (1869-1944). He is held in higher regard in South Africa, where he worked for 20 years from 1892—initially as the protégé of Cecil Rhodes (1853-1902)—designing many of that nation’s government buildings, as well as churches and private commissions.

Closer to home he is more likely to be remembered for one of two things: either his controversial work in remodelling the Bank of England (1921-42), which entailed the destruction of much of the fabric of Sir John Soane’s work, or the fractur-ing of his relationship with Lutyens during their work together designing the new seat of government in India at New Delhi (1913-29). A dispute arose over the gradient on the central axis on Raisina Hill—initially agreed by both—which restricted the view of Lutyens’s Government House, and resulted in two decades of ill-feeling. This is unfortunate, as Baker left a legacy of fine buildings and structures, including his work for the Imperial War Graves Commission, most notably the huge cemetery at Tyne Cot (completed 1927) and the War Memorial Cloister at Winchester College (1922-24).

In addition to the minor matter of the complete replacement of the electrical, heating, security and fire systems, modernisa-tion, structural repairs, and re-roofing, the refurbishment project at Owletts afforded the opportunity to reinstate the Library designed by Baker in the 1920s. He enlarged an existing room, adding a canted bay window, and installed fitted bookshelves and elegant columns inside. In the 1980s the Trust reluctantly agreed to the Library’s conversion into a kitchen to ensure that family occupation of Owletts continued. By returning the space to its former use—and developing a new kitchen in adjacent service areas—the greater part of the Owletts book collection, one of only two architect’s libraries in Trust ownership2, has been returned to its former home, and has thus allowed visitors the opportunity to gain a better appreciation of Baker and his interests.

There are around 1400 books in total, and their primary

interest rests in their as-sociation with Sir Herbert. They provide a visual guide to his interests: works on architecture nestle along-side titles on cricket (a lifelong love), local history, and biographies of some leading figures of Empire. Literature is well repre-sented; Dickens, a fellow resident of Kent and in like-lihood personally known to an earlier generation of

Bakers, is prominent. French poetry was also a passion of this highly cultivated reader; when he first visiting Owletts in 1942 James Lees-Milne noted that Baker was reading such a title.3

During the refurbishment the property was re-let. It is a happy consequence that David Baker, great-grandson of Sir Herbert, has taken on the tenancy and will live in the house with his family, continuing a family occupation dating back to 1794. It was always an objective that the reinstated Library should be a space that could be enjoyed by both visitors and tenant. This decision ensured that the tenants would have a light, airy and eminently liveable ground floor space from which they could have some of the best views of the gardens. Furthermore, it enables Owletts to have a genuine ‘lived in’ feel, rather than a Trust-created one.

For this to work authentically it would have been counter-productive to have tried to recreate fully the taste and furnish-ings of Sir Herbert’s period of occupation. Instead, a mixed approach has been taken. The distinctive mottled yellow decorative scheme of the 1920s has been restored (informed by paint analysis), and so have the majority of the bookcases. Indigenous furnishings have been introduced from elsewhere in the house, with a Victorian Chesterfield sofa and chaise longue that were languishing in the cellar conserved and reupholstered so they can be used by family and visitors.

However, sufficient scope has been left for the family to add their own personal touches. We can be confident that this approach would have been endorsed by Sir Herbert himself. In his 1938 Memorandum of Wishes, he stated that ‘it is my desire that the house should always be furnished as it is now with things associated with the lives of its past and present owners, rather than in the style of any particular period’. It is hoped that visitors can get a flavour of what the room might have been in his time, and thus gain insight into his life and work, and also be fully aware that a new family are in residence and enjoying life in a 17th-century house now fit for the 21st century.

Neil Walters, Curator, London and South East region1 Sir Herbert Baker, Memorandum of Wishes, 1938.2 The other is that of Erno Goldfinger at 2 Willow Road in Hampstead.3 James Lees-Milne, Diaries, 1942-1945 (London: John Murray, 1998), 27

November 1942.

8arts|buildings|collections bulletin

The recreated 17th-century Wilder-ness at Ham House

is experiencing its own renaissance. The garden team and volunteers are working hard to revitalise the area so that visitors can walk, socialise, play and enjoy the plants and wildlife much as the Duke and Duchess of Lauderdale did some 350 years ago. A mark of the success of this venture is that the Wilder-ness was recently voted the favourite feature at Ham House.

Ham House and Garden, located by the Thames in Richmond, Surrey, is a rare example and evocation of a 17th-century property and lifestyle. Built in 1610 by Thomas Vavasour, it became the home of William Murray, the former whipping boy of Charles I, in 1637. The property was inherited by his daughter Elizabeth; with her second husband, the Duke of Lauderdale, she embarked on an ambitious project to extend and improve the house and to create a fine new garden in the early 1670s.

John Slezer, an engineer and draughtsman, and Jan Wyck, an artist, were commissioned to produce a plan for the garden in c.1671-72.1 In c.1674 the new garden was created: it had axial layouts, grass plats and a geometric wilderness. The layout of the garden is shown in the engraving of Ham House from Vitruvius Britannicus published in 17392, although in a much simplified form. This design was clearly a statement of the Lauderdales’ desire to be leaders of fashion.

The Wilderness is about 1.2 hectares (3 acres) in area and was set

out in the familiar ‘double cross’ layout. Trees and hedges formed 16 compart-ments and grass walks or avenues ran between them. Unfortunately, no planting plans survive. The most useful evidence is from Batty Langley in his de-scription of the garden in New Principles of Gardening (1728). Referring to the Quercus ilex (Holm Oak), he writes: ‘There are many fine hedges of this plant, as well as a wonderful large Standard growing at the

End of the Terrace … from whose Acorns those hedges were raised.’ Thus it seems very likely that the hedges in the wilderness were of Holm Oak. Study of a contemporary plan,3 and Ham House from the South, painted between 1675 and 1679 by Hendrick Danckerts,4 suggests that the hedges would have been between three and five feet in height and possibly lower in the outer compartments.

It appears that the compartments were not planted initially; they may have been ‘enamelled’ with wild flowers. Mown grass serpentine paths ran through the compartments, in four cases leading to small circular wooden summerhouses which were thatched and which possibly revolved. The paths are a very early example of irregular paths, a departure from the geometric straight lines usually used at this time.

The arrangement of the centre of the Wilderness can be seen in the Danckerts painting. This shows a social gathering with citrus trees in box-like planters, eight statues and sgabello chairs (wooden side chairs) with shell-shaped backs. Statues of Mercury and Fortuna marked the entrance to the Wilderness.

Over the succeeding centuries the house and garden were not always well cared for. In 1948 they were acquired by the National Trust from the Tollemache family. The house was leased to the Victoria & Albert Museum, and the gardens to the former Ministry of Works, to be maintained by the Royal Parks.

The Wilderness had declined to the point where in 1953 it was observed that ‘hidden in the woods are ancient trees of box, old acacias, fine Spanish chestnuts and holm oaks’.5 Visitors to the garden during this period also tell of the Rhododendrons and Azaleas which grew in the Wilderness. Photographs of that time show that elements of the original layout had survived, although the hedge line had been lost.

In the late 1960s the restoration of the garden was mooted, and a number of events turned this into a reality. At the exhibition ‘Destruction of the Country House 1875 to 1975’ at the Victoria & Albert Museum a model showed how the 1670s layout could be restored. Donations of £11,000 from an anonymous donor and £5,000 from the Stanley Smith Horticultural Trust were made

THE PLEASURE GARDEN ‘HIDDEN IN THE WOODS’The recovery and recreation of The Wilderness at Ham House

‘Ham House from the South’, by Hendrick Danckerts (1625-1680), c.1675-79

nt im

ages

/ j

ohn

ham

mon

d

Ham House and grounds from the south, engraving from ‘Vitruvius Britannicus’, 1739

nt im

ages

/ j

ohn

ham

mon

d

9arts|buildings|collections bulletin

towards the improvement of the garden. Finally the National Trust decided that the restoration of the garden would make an important contribution to European Architectural Heritage Year 1975. The garden restoration project was approved, and a contract was awarded to Notcutts Landscaping to carry out the work.

The Slezer and Wyck plan of c.1671-72 was the basis for the restoration. All the old mature trees and shrubs were removed, and the walks were planted with Acer campestre (Field Maple) trees and Carpinus betulus (Hornbeam) hedges. Initially the compartments were not planted. Sgabello chairs, flanked by planters, were installed in the middle of the Wilderness in 1983. In 1985 new summerhouses were built in their four compartments—they were not thatched, but tiled with wooden shingles, and they did not revolve. In 1998 over 250 shrubs and 4,000 bulbs were planted, all species that might have been used in 1690. The statues of Mercury and Fortuna returned to the north entrance of the Wilderness in 2003.

The past three years have seen the start of a further period of restoration in order to create a more authentic and enjoyable experi-ence for visitors. Major works have included the ‘shredding’ of the field maples along the walks (this involves the removal of lower limbs to create a more fastigiate cathedral-like shape to the avenues), the re-turfing of the walks, and the realignment of some of the serpen-tine paths. Dieback in the hornbeam hedges has been addressed by the installation of an irrigation system and a programme of feeding and replanting.

With the kind assistance of the Royal National Rose Society, the RHS and Mottisfont Abbey, all the plants in the Wilderness have been identified and labelled, a plant data base and planting plans created, and comprehensive information produced for use by garden guides. Based on advice from John Sales, former Head of Gardens at the National Trust (he was instrumental in the restoration of the gardens in the 1970s), a staged process is under way to reduce the height of the overgrown holly trees within the compartments.

Significant numbers of herbaceous plants and shrubs have been planted in the summerhouse compartments. Wild flowers and bulbs have been planted in others to replicate the possible original ‘enamelling’. There are now more than 100 examples of period trees, shrubs, perennials and bulbs within these areas. Most have intriguing

historical herbal, medicinal, culinary or economic uses, and a detailed guide to these is now available. Who would not be fasci-nated by ‘Bladder Senna’, ‘Monks’ Pepper’ and ‘Prickly Pettigrue’?

But the Wilderness remains a work in progress, and much is still to be done. The garden team is hoping to propagate or find new or replacement plants. The future of the maturing field maples has to be resolved. The prospect of reducing the scale of one mile of hornbeam hedging has to be faced. And new approaches to grass maintenance in the Wilderness are needed to counter problems from shade, soil conditions and wear, especially with the introduc-tion of 364-day opening in 2014.

Statues and plinths have been commissioned, and the sgabello chairs are being refurbished or replaced to restore the centre of the Wilderness to the way it was in the Danckerts painting. Who knows? Maybe one day the summerhouses will be thatched and made to revolve again.

Barry Sorrell, Horticultural Volunteer

1 This plan is displayed at Ham House in the Library Closet2 This engraving is displayed in the Library Closet at Ham House3 The ‘Helmingham plan’ of c.1730 was found at Helmingham Hall, Suffolk in

19934 This painting hangs in the White Closet of Ham House and is recorded as

being in the house in the inventory of 16795 Gladys Taylor, Old London Gardens, 1953

The Wilderness with one of the summerhouses

View of the south front showing the sgabello chairs

The Wilderness centre with two sgabello chairs

10arts|buildings|collections bulletin

NEITHER PENCIL NOR INK

Ham House, the Thames-side villa of the Duke and Duch-ess of Lauderdale, was transformed between 1672 and 1676. The gentleman architect William Samwell effectively created a fashionable double-pile house by adding to the Jacobean H-plan an entirely new range on the south, or garden, side. Viewed from the river, how-ever, little appeared to have changed. Roger North noted that this was as a result ‘... of the skill and dexterity in managing the alterations which in my opinion are the best I have seen. For I doe not perceive any part of the old fabrick is taken down, but the wings stand as they were first sett, only behind next the garden they are joined with.’

North particularly admired the contrast between the north and the south fronts and the seemly way that at Ham the old work was seen before the new. As a principle, he considered it more satisfactory to be able to appreciate first what was ancient and venerable, before enjoying the surprise afforded by a handsome new interior or secondary façade. The converse—an ostentatious new exterior and a crumbling reality beyond—could only disappoint the visitor.

Parts of the old fabric did of course need to be taken down during the course of the alterations, as a quick analysis of the structure shows and as the extensive building accounts confirm: the surviving Jacobean towers were reduced in height, new openings were made to enable intercommu-nication between the two parts of the house, and the roofs covering them were carefully fitted together. Among the principal craftsmen, or ‘Master Workmen’, who undertook this work, the bricklayer, John Burnell, charged £5 ‘ffor pulling down a great window in ye middle of ye house’, while the carpenter, Humphrey Owen, charged for ‘2 men 3 dayes a makeing good ye rooffe between ye old house and ye new building at ye west end’.

These alterations are fully described in the forthcoming book Ham House: 400 Years of Collecting and Patronage (see details on p13). During the research for this a careful study was made of the surviving building accounts in the Buckminster Park Archive. Having transcribed Humphrey Owen’s ‘Bill for his Grace the Duke of Lauderdale 1672’, paid on 2 May 1674, I was about to return it to its archive box when my attention was caught by a series of faint lines scored on the

back page, thrown into relief by the low winter light filtering through the window blind. There is no reason to suppose that this rough, incised drawing made with a blunt point is not con-temporary with the bill. It is not clear exactly what it represents, but it may have been made in order to visualise, and then count, how many lengths of timber were, or had been, needed for a particular task. As such it is a rare survival

of an ephemeral type of drawing illustrative of a thought process. In one corner of the drawing the inscription ‘In all 28 30 29’ suggests that three attempts were made at counting the number of transverse and diagonal lines.

If not made by the master carpenter Humphrey Owen, might it have been made by John Lacey, the measurer, whose job it was to ‘cast up’ the bills submitted by the different trades? He recommended to Samwell, who scrutinised and attested the bills, what sums should be abated, deducted and paid. It was only then that Arthur Forbes, the paymaster, who regularly received large sums from the Lauderdales’ steward for the purpose, settled the accounts.

Does the drawing indicate a floor- or roof-frame, or perhaps the lines of the risers or supporting timbers for a staircase? The new stairs at the west end of the house might be the most obvious candidate, but, if each line represents a step, the number and pattern do not match with this struc-ture. The first-floor gallery created with the opening of the Hall ceiling might have been another candidate, but this work was undertaken at a later stage. It is difficult to relate it to any surviving feature at Ham, though, unlike that of the joiner, the carpenter’s work is usually hidden behind surface finishes. Some of the carpenter’s enabling work took the form of temporary structures such as scaffolding towers or cover buildings—referred to as ‘shades’ in the accounts—beneath which the joiners and masons could work, or timber could be stored. In addition to their work in the house, Owen’s bill shows that he and his men worked simultaneously on a number of ancillary buildings, among them the stables, dairy, washhouse, and granary.

I would be delighted to hear from readers of ABC who have further thoughts about this slight but intriguing drawing.

David Adshead, Head Curator

A 17th-century carpenter’s ‘drawing’ for Ham House

11arts|buildings|collections bulletin

GLOBALISED LACQUER – A BAROQUE ENTHUSIASMJavanese tables in pride of place at Dyrham Park and Ham House

The baroque style was very accommodating to exotic influences, and Asian porcelain, textiles and lacquer were used with gusto in late 17th- and early 18th-century

interiors. Although the oriental influence on European interi-ors has long been recognised, we are only gradually acquiring a better understanding of the trade and production networks which enabled this early-modern globalism to thrive.1 One phenom-enon from this period that has remained relatively enigmatic is the short-lived popularity of Javanese lacquer. In this article I will attempt to define and identify the small group of Javanese lacquer tables dating from the late 17th- and early 18th-century which survive in a few British and German public collections.

Even the identification of these tables as ‘Javanese’ is not entirely certain, as nothing appears to be known about how they were imported.2 However, the use of floral and animal patterns carved and gilded in high relief against a red lacquer or painted background, as can be seen in these pieces, was in fact practised on Java. Moreover, while some of the painted motifs appear to be Chinese, others have also been identified on Javanese batik fabrics.3 It has also been suggested that the ultimate source of such tables was the state of Arakan on the Bay of Bengal (in present-day Myanmar).4

The Javanese pieces discussed here seem to have all come to Europe towards the end of the 17th and the beginning of the 18th century. At this time the Dutch East India Company had a well-established global trade network, with the city of Batavia on Java as its Asian hub. Presumably these items of furniture were imported either officially or privately through the Dutch East India Company, although no evidence of this has yet come to light. In the case of Dyrham Park there was certainly a strong Dutch connection. William Blathwayt (?1649-1717), the builder of the house, had spent extended periods in Holland, spoke Dutch, was familiar with Dutch painting and collected Delft blue and

white glazed earthenware. This ‘hollandophile’ outlook, as well as his efficiency as a civil servant and minister, made Blathwayt useful to the Dutch King William III, who kept him on as Secretary at War following the Glorious Revolution in 1688. In William’s employ Blathwayt continued to make visits to Holland, where he had his own apartment in the palace of Het Loo.

In the 1703 Dyrham inventory the table now thought to be Javanese is simply described as ‘a large tea table’ and is listed among the furniture in the Balcony Room, an anteroom or sitting room leading into Blathwayt’s private apartment (inv. no. NT452980). The low rectangular table stands on six carved, red lacquer and gilded cabriole legs, which are linked by floor-level stretchers and by gilded fretwork aprons. The black lacquer top has a pie-crust rim.

A similar table has survived at Ham House (inv. no. NT1140034), but there it has been raised on a European barley-twisted and ball-footed base. Presumably it was felt that these tables, originally made in the context of the floor-sitting culture of Java, needed to be heightened to fit in with the habits of chair-sitting Europeans. At the same time this is also an almost symbolic appropriation of Asian material culture into a European setting. As at Dyrham, the Javanese table at Ham seems to have functioned as part of the serving and drinking of tea, at this time still a relatively exotic and expensive commodity. In the 1683 Ham inventory it was listed in

Javanese rectangular lacquer table, NT452980 (at front), in the Balcony Room at Dyrham Park

Rectangular Javanese lacquer table raised on a European japanned base, NT1140034 (between the chairs), and a related square tray or low table, NT (on top of the cabinet), in the Duchess’s Private Closet at Ham House.

nt im

ages

/ a

ndre

as v

on e

insi

edel

nt im

ages

/ j

ohn

ham

mon

d

12arts|buildings|collections bulletin

the Duchess of Lauderdale’s Private Closet, together with a set of British pseudo-Asian side chairs. Both the table and the chairs were described as ‘Japanned’, a confusing term which could either indicate genuine Asian lacquer or European imitation-lacquer. Also in this room is a small Javanese lacquer tray or table, with four short feet connected by gilded fretwork aprons, its black top with a concave rim indented at the corners and decorated with a landscape (inv. no. NT1140033).

The Duke and Duchess of Lauderdale were close to King Charles II, and their wealth and connections allowed them to rebuild and refurbish Ham in an extremely lavish manner during the 1670s. Their taste might well be labelled ‘international baroque’, since they not only employed foreign craftsmen resident in England but also shipped in large quantities of furniture and furnishings from France and Holland. Ham still contains a number of pieces of east Asian lacquer from that period, often, like the Javanese table, adapted or incorporated into European pieces of furniture.

A raised Javanese lacquer table can also be seen in a delight-ful painting depicting a family at tea dated to about 1680 and attributed to Roelof Koets II (c.1650-1725) which came up at auction in Amsterdam in 2004.5 The table is clearly shown to have gilded red lacquer cabriole legs, with red, black and gold japanned legs linked by an X-shaped stretcher added below, and with a black and gold lacquer top with a pie-crust rim. The picture also illustrates how such tables were actually used, as splendid centrepieces for the almost ceremonial consumption of tea. Clearly visible on the tabletop are the black lacquer or japanned tea caddy, the silver sugar pot and the white ceramic slop bowl. The husband and wife both hold earless porcelain teacups and saucers. Interest-ingly it is the husband who proudly wields the Yixing stoneware teapot, while a richly dressed toddler grasps the rim of the table. Although this type of table does not seem to have survived in public collections in The Netherlands, one example without a European base recently came up at auction in Amsterdam.6

Two tables which are very similar to the Ham example survive at Schloß Charlottenburg in Berlin, where they are currently placed in a bedchamber (inv. nos. SPSG IV 2843 and 2844).7 Little is known about how and for whom they were originally acquired, but they would seem to date from the time of Friedrich Hohenzollern, Elector of Brandenburg and King in Prussia

(1657-1713), and his second wife Sophie Charlotte von Hannover (1668-1705). The palace was originally built as a relatively small country retreat for Sophie Charlotte in 1695-99, but following the elevation of her husband to first King in Prussia it was extended in 1701-02. The furnishings included large quantities of Asian ceramics (especially in the magnificent purpose-built Porcelain Cabinet) and many pieces of lacquer or imitation-lacquer furni-ture. Like the table at Ham, the two rectangular Javanese tables at Charlottenburg were raised on European-made bases. They also have similar pie-crust rims and one of them has carved and gilded cabriole legs and fretwork aprons (the second table appears to have been altered as part of a subsequent restoration).

There are two further Javanese tables at Charlottenburg, with pie-crust rims but with different, drum-shaped bases. The one in the Porcelain Cabinet is round and covered with smooth red lacquer decorated with landscapes in gold (inv. no. SPSG IV 3398), whereas the one in the Audience Chamber is octagonal and has panels of carved and gilded relief as well as decorations in gold on smooth red lacquer (inv. no. SPSG IV 3328). Both were raised on European baroque feet.

A similar drum-shaped table, covered with smooth black lacquer decorated in gold, again with European feet and dated to around 1680, is in the Badisches Landesmuseum, Karlsruhe (inv. no. D237). This table was formerly in the state apartments of the Residenz at Rastatt, Baden-Württemberg, and has been associated with the ‘Turkish booty’ amassed by Margrave Ludwig Wilhelm of Baden-Baden (1655-1707) during his numerous campaigns against the Ottoman Empire in the 1680s and 1690s. However, it has been suggested that this table was not actually a spoil of war, but is more likely to have been acquired through the trade or as

Painting depicting a Dutch family taking tea around rectangular Javanese lacquer table raised on a European base, . x cm, attributed to Roelof Koets II (c. -).

Rectangular Javanese lacquer table raised on a German japanned base, SPSG IV 2844, at Schloß Charlottenburg. ©Henriette Graf/Stiftung Preußische Schlösser und Gärten Berlin Brandenburg

soth

eby’

s

13arts|buildings|collections bulletin

a gift, and rather than being a trophy was simply a modish and prestigious item of furniture used at Friedrich Wilhelm’s Residenz, which was built between 1697 and 1707.8

Two final and particularly charming examples of drum-shaped Javanese tables can be found in the Porcelain Cabinet of the dolls’ town ‘Mon Plaisir’, in the Schloßmuseum in Arnstadt, Thüringen. This extraordinary collection of 82 miniature rooms and scenes was created by Fürstin Auguste-Dorothea von Schwarzburg- Arnstadt (1666-1751), probably with the assistance of the sculptor and designer Heinrich Christoph Meil (1701-1738), at her dower house Augustenburg during the first few decades of the 18th century. Although these tiny tables are most likely imitation- lacquer pieces, they provide yet another glimpse of the use of Javanese lacquer in the baroque interior.9

Emile de Bruijn, Registrar (Collections & Grants)

1 See for instance Anna Jackson and Amin Jaffer (eds.), Encounters: the meeting of Asia and Europe, 1500-1800, London, V&A Publications, 2004; Michael Snodin and Nigel Llewellyn (eds.), Baroque: Style in the Age of Magnificence, 1620-1800, London, V&A Publications, 2009; and Giorgio Riello, Cotton: the Fabric that Made the Modern World, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2013.

2 Before 1990 the Victoria & Albert Museum looked after Ham House, and in the museum’s archives various experts’ opinions about the origins of this table have been recorded, including Japan, the Ryūkyū� Islands and Java. I am very

grateful to Kate Hay, curator in the Department of Furniture, Textiles and Fashion at the Victoria & Albert Museum, London, for this information.

3 See Karl-Heinz Mittenhuber, Die restaurierte ‘Türkentrommel’ in Fränkish-Crumbach und weitere Trommeltische aus Java, Fränkish-Crumbach, 1989, pp. 32, 40 and 55.

4 See Jan Veenendaal, ‘Furniture in Batavia’, in T.M. Eliëns (ed.), Domestic Interiors at the Cape and in Batavia 1602–1795, The Hague and Zwolle, Gemeentemuseum and Waanders, 2002, p. 24.

5 Sold at auction at Sotheby’s, Amsterdam, 2 November 2004, lot 58. See also file 116428 in the archive of the Rijksbureau voor Kunsthistorische Documentatie, The Hague. (http://www.rkd.nl/rkddb/dispatcher.aspx?action=search&database=ChoiceImages&search=priref=116428). I am very grateful to Birgit Boudewijns at Christie’s, Amsterdam, for this information, and to Christine Lambrechtsen at Sotheby’s, Amsterdam, for the image of the painting.

6 Christie’s, Amsterdam, sale 26-27 March 2013, lot 424.7 I am very grateful to Dr Henriette Graf, Curator of Decorative Arts and

Furniture, Stiftung Preußische Schlösser und Gärten Berlin-Brandenburg, for providing me with information about the Javanese tables at Schloß Charlottenburg.

8 See Ernst Petrasch, et al. (eds.), Die Karlsruher Türkenbeute: Die ‘Türkische Kammer’ des Markgrafen Ludwig Wilhelm von Baden-Baden; die Türkische Curiositaeten’ von Baden-Durlach, Karlsruhe, Badisches Landesmusem, and München, Hirmer Verlag, 1991, cat. 323, pp. 390-392. Apart from the Charlottenburg examples this catalogue entry also lists an additional drum-shaped Javanese table which has been preserved in the church of Fränkisch-Crumbach, Odenwald (see also note 3 above).

9 See Monika Kopplin (ed.), Schwartz Porcelain: Die Leidenschaft für Lack und ihre Wirkung auf das Europäische Porzellan, München, Hirmer Verlag and Münster, Museum für Lackkunst, 7 December 2003-27 June 2004, cat. 42 (p. 95).

Ham House: Four Hundred Years of Collecting and Patronage Christopher Rowell

Built in 1610 during the reign of James I and remodelled in 1637-39 by the future first Earl of Dysart, Ham House and its gardens have endured through centuries of English history while remaining representative of the styles and culture of the original inhabitants. It is one of the few places where Caroline decor—as developed by the architect Inigo Jones, and familiar to Peter Paul Rubens and Anthony van Dyck—can still be appreciated.

To mark the 400th anniversary of one of the most famous houses in Europe, eighteen internationally recognized scholars join National Trust curators in documenting the history of Ham House and its collections. The new discoveries, reattributions, and revelations of the contributors are accompanied by specially commissioned photography of the house and its contents.

An appendix includes complete transcrip-tions of house inventories for the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, published here for the first time.

Yale University PressHardback400pp, 279 x 241mm250 colour images, 100 bw illustrations£75

THE GREEN CLOSET AT HAM HOUSE: A CHARLES I CABINET ROOM AND ITS CONTENTS 1514 THE GREEN CLOSET AT HAM HOUSE: A CHARLES I CABINET ROOM AND ITS CONTENTS

The collection of cabinet paintings and miniatures in the Green Closet at Ham is exceptional both for its size and its setting (figs9, 10 and 11). There is nowhere else in Britain where one can

appreciate the subtle beauty of an early seventeenth-century Kunstkammer,still thickly hung – like a veritable picture gallery in miniature – with tiers of subject pictures, landscapes, small portraits and miniatures. Around 1980, the Victoria and Albert Museum removed all the Green Closet’s miniatures, and most of the cabinet pictures, to a separate Museum Room, where they were housed in modern steel showcases. The Green Closet’s restoration by the National Trust in 1995–6 revived its spirit as the repository of 300 years of one family’s collecting (fig. 12).1 It was part of the original house, completed in 1610 by Sir Thomas Vavasour,2 but its transformation was due to another prominent courtier, William Murray (c.1600–55), a life-long adherent of the Stuart monarchy, who was created 1st Earl of Dysart during the interregnum in 1651. A fellow Scot and childhood friend of Charles I, Murray graduated from service as Charles’s ‘whipping boy’ – a surrogate who was punished when his royal master deserved it – to become a Gentleman of the Bed Chamber. His uncle, Thomas Murray, became Secretary to the Prince of Wales in 1617.3

William Murray was a close confidant of the prince and one of a small coterie of connoisseurs who accompanied Charles in 1623 to woo the daughter of Philip III, the Spanish Infanta, Maria Ana (the future Holy Roman Empress). The visit to Spain failed to secure a marriage alliance but had important consequences for Prince Charles, Murray and their friends, who returned to England with a love of Venetian High Renaissance painting, and of Titian in particular.4

Privileged access to Philip IV’s collection left the future Charles I with a determination to emulate its riches in England. As king, he propelled himself to the pinnacle of European collecting via the acquisition en blocof the Gonzaga pictures from Mantua in 1627–8, and set about adapting the royal palaces for their reception. Commissions were sought abroad – from Bernini, for example – and foreign artists, most famously Rubens and Van Dyck, were attracted to London. Among them was the German Franz Cleyn, or Francis Clein (1582–1658),5 who had served as court

2THE GREEN CLOSET AT HAM HOUSE:

A CHARLES I CABINET ROOM AND ITS CONTENTS

C H R I S T O P H E R ROW E L L

painter to Christian IV of Denmark, and who took over the Mortlake tapestry factory in 1625. Clein was probably involved in the creation of the State Apartment at Ham (1637–9): the fixed overdoor paintings and overmantels in the present Hall Gallery and North Drawing Room were described as ‘by Decline’ in the 1683 inventory, while the capriccio wall and ceiling paintings in the Green Closet (on paper adhered to the plaster cove and ceiling) are also attributed to him and his atelier.6

THE HAM STATE APARTMENT AND THE GENESIS OF THE GREEN CLOSET

Murray employed royal craftsmen and designers who were then transforming British architecture, interior decoration and the display of collections. Their approach was based upon sophisticated continental lines (both Clein and the royal architect, Inigo Jones, who are known to

have collaborated in work for the Crown, had travelled in Italy and elsewhere in Europe). The royal craftsmen of the King’s Works who are documented as working at Ham were Thomas Kinsman, the plasterer, and Matthew Goodricke, the house painter and gilder. The joiner, Thomas Carter, may have been connected to other carpenters with the same surname who were employed by the Crown.7 Inigo Jones is known to have supervised royal craftsmen at Chelsea House, the London seat of Lionel Cranfield, 1st Earl of Middlesex, so it is likely that he – rather than Clein (who is not known to have designed interiors) – was the eminence grise in the interior decoration of Ham, if indeed there was a guiding hand.8 Given his international experiences, his royal connections and his undoubted aesthetic interests, perhaps Murray was able to work alone with the men from the King’s Works.9 It is conceivable, however, that Jones was involved, given the sophistication of the plaster and woodwork, especially the overmantel in the North Drawing Room. Another candidate might be the mysterious ‘D.C.’ who checked and Fig. 9 The Green Closet, after restoration and re-hanging in 1995–6.

Fig. 10 The Green Closet: the west wall, after restoration and re-hanging in 1995–6. Fig. 11 The Green Closet: the east wall, after restoration and re-hanging in 1995–6.

Buy online at the National Trust shophttp://shop.nationaltrust.org.uk/

14arts|buildings|collections bulletin

THERE AND BACK AGAINInvestigating an early American book at Blickling Hall

A Norfolk country house may seem an unlikely place to find links to 17th-century

European settlers in America. But one Blickling bible holds evidence of their continuing relationships with family in England, and a reminder that despite the hardships of con-temporary sea travel, early emigrants to New England were not destined to remain there.

The Puritan John Eliot (1604-90)1 sailed to America in 1631 and spent more than 40 years as a missionary in eastern Massachusetts, preaching in the local Algonquin dialect. He also led a campaign which resulted in an ordinance from Parliament ‘for the advancement of civilization and christianity among the Indians’ in July 1649 and the foundation of the first Protestant missionary society —now known as the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel (SPG)—to raise funds for local ‘Commissioners for Indian Affairs’.

With the help of a native speaker, John Sassamon, Eliot spent ten years translating the bible into Massachusett Algonquin. The SPG agreed to support its publication and sent out a press, type fonts and a printer, Marmaduke Johnson, to assist the local Cambridge printer Samuel Green. The New Testament appeared in 1661 and the Old Testament and metrical psalms in 1663. This was the earliest example of the translation and printing of the complete bible in a new language for evangelical work, and the first bible in any language printed in North America; no English-language bible was printed there until the second half of the 18th century.

Around 1,000 copies of the ‘Eliot Indian Bible’ were printed, of which at least 20 were sent immediately to England; these generally have an additional English title page and dedication to Charles II. Many of the surviving copies have inscriptions to Eliot’s friends and supporters: the publication was perhaps intended as much to attract funding as to enlighten the new converts.

A contemporary inscription on the endpapers of the Blickling bible indicates that this was probably one of those sent straight to England:

‘For my loving brother Mr Nathaniel Whitfeld to be sent unto my loving Brother Mr Francis Higginson Minister at Kirby Stephen in Westmorland. Enquire of Mr Nathaniel Whitfeld at ye navy office he lives at Bell Court in fish street hill. Shew this also to my brother Mr Charles Higginson’.

The anonymous sender can be identified as John Higginson (1616-1708), minister of Salem. John was the eldest son of the Leicestershire clergyman Francis Higginson (1586?-1630), who was appointed minister by the Massachusetts Bay Company in 1629. The family emigrated that summer and Francis became assistant

minister to Salem Church, where he devised the ‘Salem Covenant’ still in use today. He also wrote a popular account of the colony, New-Englands Plantation, which immediately went through three editions, but he died of a fever in August 1630.

John Higginson also trained for the ministry and worked as a school-master in Guilford, Connecticut. In 1641 he married Sarah, daughter of Henry Whitfeld or Whitfield (1590/91-1657), whose home—the oldest stone house in New England —is now the Henry Whitfield State Museum. Whitfield had resigned his living at Ockley, Surrey, in 1638 and emigrated with several families from his parish. A man of means, he purchased land for the township of Menumkatuck (renamed Guilford) and served as unpaid minister for 11 years. The advent of the Common-wealth brought the prospect of reli-gious change at home, and Whitfield returned to England in 1650, settling

at Winchester. But he maintained his connections with and interest in New England: he became a member of the SPG and wrote a pamphlet The Light Appearing More and More Towards the Perfect Day to publicise the work of Eliot and his fellow missionary Thomas Mayhew.

John Higginson succeeded his father-in-law as minister at Guilford, where he also learnt to preach in the local language. In 1659 he too set off for England, but a storm drove his ship into Salem harbour and he accepted the post of pastor there, which he held until his death in 1708. It is unsurprising to find that his family were later involved in the Salem witch trials: his son John (b. 1646) was a magistrate, while his daughter, Ann Dolliver, was put on trial in 1692 but eventually freed.2

John’s younger brother, Francis (1618-1673)—the intended recipi-ent of the bible—taught in Cambridge, then returned to Europe in 1639 to study at Leiden. There were hopes that he would return to teach at Harvard, but instead Francis chose the English church. He was appointed rector at Kirkby Stephen, Westmorland in 1648 and remained there until his death, although he was suspended from his living for a short time for refusing to subscribe to the Act of Uniformity.3 Francis was an active opponent of local Quakers and wrote a 1653 pamphlet decrying their ‘irreligion’. Despite their physical separation, links between the family clearly remained strong: John’s son, another Francis (1660-1684?), returned to England to live with his uncle and was schooled at nearby Sedbergh before going to Cambridge.4

John Higginson directed the bible to Francis through his brother-in-law Nathaniel Whitfield (1629-1696) in London. Nathaniel emi-grated with his parents in 1639 and it is not clear when he returned

The title page of the Eliot Bible

NT

PL H

PPA

-425

05

15arts|buildings|collections bulletin

to England, although it was before 1657 when he witnessed Henry’s will in Winchester. There is no record of him returning with his father in 1650, but Henry was accompanied by Nathaniel’s sister, Dorothy (1619-1654) and her husband Samuel Desborough (1619-1690), who became parliamentary commissioner in Scotland.

From 1663-1692 Nathaniel was a clerk in the Navy Office. As a contemporary of Samuel Pepys, he receives three brief mentions in the diary, the first of which describes a moonlight boat trip to inspect docked ships (12 July 1663). Given his family’s religious and political background, this work was probably not without difficulty for Nathaniel: on 25 June 1665 Pepys is troubled on hearing of an attempt to make Whitfield ‘incapable of serving the King’. But he clearly survived this, and was appointed Chief Clerk in 1674.

Nathaniel’s address, Fish Street Hill, is now the site of the monu-ment to the Great Fire, which started in the next street on 2 Sep-tember 1666. He was apparently still living there that June, when a marriage licence was issued for Nathaniel Whitfeld, New Fish Street, and Sara Biggs of Portsmouth.5 Pepys mentions that Fish Street was destroyed, but the bible was presumably passed to Francis well before the conflagration!

Charles Higginson (1628-1677?), the third brother in John’s inscription, was a sailor who had lived in New Haven, Connecticut until at least 1649 but was now in Stepney and described as in the Jamaica trade. Charles had no apparent naval connection, but two elder brothers, Timothy (d.1653) and Samuel (d.1664), commanded state ships during the Commonwealth; all three died at sea.

Another endpaper contains the inscription: ‘Daniel Whitfeld March 20th 65’. More research is needed to identify Daniel, who

seems not to be a direct relative of Henry Whitfield. The answer may lie in Cumbria: parish records show there were Whitfields—prob-ably unrelated to the settlers—living near Kirkby Stephen in the 1660s, so Francis Higginson may simply have passed the book to a parishioner. I would be interested to hear from any Whitfield family historians who can offer a likely identification.

This Eliot Bible eventually passed into the library of Sir Richard Ellys (1682-1742) of Nocton, Lincolnshire. Ellys was a keen biblical scholar who owned over 40 bibles in numerous versions and languages, as well as many critical texts and commentaries. We do not yet know how he acquired the book, although a surviving collection of annotated sale catalogues 6 could hold the answer. But it may have been a gift: Ellys was a firm Calvinist—he was a leading member of the nonconformist Princes Street congregation—and is thought to have had strong links with American settlers through his friends in London’s dissenting congregations.

Ellys’s links with New England were certainly strong enough to make his name known there: it seems that Harvard University was keen to acquire his collection to supplement its young library, and the Blickling collection still contains a presentation copy to Ellys of Harvard’s first library catalogue7, presumably sent as an encourage-ment to donate funds or books. Attempts were also made to acquire the library for English dissenting institutions, but when Ellys died, this important library was inherited by the Hobart family and came to Blickling.8

Records for this and other books in the Trust’s collection— including details of provenance and binding—can be found on Copac: http://copac.ac.uk/ and our collections website http://www.nationaltrustcollections.org.uk/

Nicola Thwaite, Assistant Libraries Curator (North)

1 See J. Frederick Fausz, ‘Eliot, John (1604-1690)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004. ODNB also contains articles on Francis Higginson the elder, Henry Whitfield and Richard Ellys.

2 See the Salem Witch Trials Documentary Archive and Transcription project http://www2.iath.virginia.edu/salem/home.html

3 B. Nightingale, The Ejected of 1662 in Cumberland & Westmorland, Manchester University Press, 1911, pp.1075-1089

4 T.W. Higginson, Descendants of the Rev. Francis Higginson … Privately printed, 1910

5 Allegations for Marriage Licences issued by … the Archbishop of Canterbury, Harleian Society publications, v.23, 1886, p.118

6 See Mark Purcell’s article in ABC, August 2012, p.137 Catalogus librorum Bibliothecae Collegij Harvardini quod est Cantabrigiae in

Nova Anglia, Bartholomew Green, 1723, supplements to 1735.8 For more on Ellys’s library see G. Mandelbrote & Y. Lewis, Learning to

Collect: the Library of Sir Richard Ellys at Blickling Hall, National Trust, 2004

A view down the Long Gallery at Blickling Hall, Norfolk

nt im

ages

/ n

adia

mac

ken

zie

The inscription on the endpapers of the Blickling bible

16arts|buildings|collections bulletin

‘APPROPRIATE FOR A COUNTRY HOUSE’?Rebuilding Ralph Dutton’s library at Hinton Ampner

The catastrophic fire at Hinton Ampner in April 1960 started in the library, destroying

almost two decades of painstaking post-war reconstruction work. This work was needed not because the house had suffered from the depre-dations of war, but because Ralph Dutton had inherited a rather neglected Hinton Ampner from his father, John Henry Dutton, who died in 1935. Ralph Dutton had begun work on the house; but inheriting close to the outbreak of war, he had had little chance to add any comforts to it in those few years, which made it a much less attractive prospect for requisition by the military. In fact, it was a house which had had little done to it for almost a century. Its full restoration had to wait until after the war.

Despite being the elder brother, Ralph Dutton’s father had not in-tended to marry, hoping to leave such matters to his younger brother, who unfortunately died in 1886, just two years after their father. John Henry Dutton, then aged 40, had to marry quickly in order to carry on the family line. He also inherited a house much altered from its original, fairly simple 1793 design. Ralph Dutton clearly had no love for what was in architectural terms his grandfather’s house: ‘The house into which my introduction was announced in such dignified terms was a mid-Victorian building of such exceptional hideousness …’1 The only saving grace of the building was ‘one good feature which could not have been apparent to an observer: behind the plate-glass and barge-boarded gables there still stood, engulfed in the flood of Victorian Tudor, the fabric of a simple late Georgian

building.’2 Whilst only referring to it in passing 3, he could also have added that the choice of site for the house, set near a little village and church in the sweeping chalk countryside near Winchester, was an inspired one.

Ralph Dutton gives us glimpses of the house he grew up in, which seems to have been a particularly crowded Victorian household. He was surrounded by the possessions of his grandfather’s generation. ‘There was furniture, pictures, books, stuffed birds in glass cases, portfolios containing an assortment of prints and drawings, the debris of discarded amusements, broken croquet mallets, the paraphernalia of toxophily, a box of mahogany bowls, and everywhere evidence of my grandmother’s passion for collecting China, huge Dresden ornaments, figures, candlesticks, din-ner and dessert services and much else.’4 His father seems to have done little to alter the situation; indeed he positively frowned upon any sort of change.5 Perhaps the unwanted

changes to his bachelor lifestyle had been all that he could bear. Of books, and Ralph Dutton’s own reading choices during his

formative years, there is but a brief mention when he describes the contents of the schoolroom. ‘A bookcase contained the lesson books, and a little simple reading in French and German— Les Malheurs de Sophie and so forth—while for entertainment there were a number of books of fairy stories—Hans Andersen, very sentimental, Grimm, frightening, and Andrew Lang, a varied selection.’ 6 Presumably he read much more at school and at home that he chose not to mention. Clearly there was a library in the house, as during the war years it became a storage area whilst the Portsmouth Day School for Girls occupied the house.7 Presum-ably there had been a library in his father’s time, but its contents remain something of a mystery as much paperwork was destroyed in the 1960 fire. Where Ralph Dutton kept his books during the building works and war years is also a mystery. As an active writer, one would expect him to have kept a good selection close by in case of an immediate need to look something up.

From 1935 onwards, Gerald Wellesley and Trenwith Wells were engaged as architects for the restoration work. We do know that they enlarged the existing library by moving the wall adjoining the dining room by one bay; the dining room then became the adjoin-ing study (now the sitting room).8 In the years following the war, with rationing still in operation, sourcing materials was extremely difficult, so much was salvaged from houses being knocked down. The work having been completed, Ralph Dutton was looking forward to enjoying the fruit of his labours when disaster struck. Sadly, it was in the library that the fire started in April 1960. Ralph The fire at Hinton Ampner in 1960

The Library at Hinton Ampner

17arts|buildings|collections bulletin

Dutton had gone out for a walk, leaving a fire blazing in its hearth, from which a spark flew. ‘Hardly a book survived the conflagra-tion. A few which were in my sitting room emerged unburnt but so saturated with water as to be almost useless. Even when the print was still legible, the stained and twisted aspect of the covers was so repellent, and so unwelcome a reminder of the disaster, that I found it impossible to keep them. In the library every book was destroyed, and also those in a reference library housed in an attic. The former, subjected to intense heat and water, had become almost petrified as if engulfed by a volcanic eruption, and had to be hewn out of the bookcases with pick axes.’9 The whole of the main part of the house was destroyed.

This would be daunting for anyone, but it seems that there was no doubt that the house would be rebuilt. Luckily the same architects were still available, so their plans could be re-tuned—the fire had cleared the site.10 Over the next three years, their plans came to fruition: rooms that had previously retained their Victorian character, but had been destroyed, now joined the Re-gency ensemble. The house became a more coherent whole. Apart from the fireplace, the library was restored to its pre-1960 Regency glory.11 After the re-building of the house came the re-fitting of the interiors. For the last 30 years it has been thought that when re-creating the contents of his library after that tragic fire in 1960, Ralph Dutton ‘set about collecting works to replace them which would be appropriate for an English country house. He acquired some books of instruction and reference—peerages and the like —but the collection is largely of works which would entertain: the English poets and novelists, travel journals and diaries and works of topography.’12 Perhaps it is now time to re-examine the collec-tion and look more closely at the books themselves, to see whether they were used, and how they were purchased.

If a library has been recreated, one would expect to see some purchasing en masse from sales, rather than a desire to collect books as historic artefacts in their own right, or as the contents of an author’s working reference library. What we see, however, in Ralph Dutton’s own notebook of purchases between 1935 and 1972, are many items bought individually from various booksellers, or small groups of books bought from the same sale. Receipts show that he bought from London booksellers both large and small as well as from those in the regions. Some receipts list the books bought, others just the lot numbers. Books were delivered both to Hinton Ampner and to his London flat in Eaton Square. As catalogu-ing gets under way it will be interesting to see how many of the

volumes have ended up on the shelves at Hinton Ampner.The bookshelves at Hinton Ampner contain an eclectic mix of

titles. Repton’s Observations (1803) sits beautifully in a Regency library, and so does Pine’s Royal Residences (1819). Alongside them are bound volumes of Christopher Hussey’s articles on Georgian houses for Country Life (1955). Ralph Dutton missed out on a copy of Tom Brown, but he did succeed in getting Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, both with Tenniel’s illustrations.13 We are often asked if the books in National Trust houses were ever read, or just bought by the yard. Dutton’s copy of the Victoria County History of Hampshire, with its very carefully inserted slips of tissue paper for reference, is one of a group of books so marked up, which would suggest that the library was actively used. That particular book has also been carefully rebound, retaining the original covers inside the new binding. Others, such as Cockayne’s Complete Peerage (1887-98), were both useful for his writing on country houses and their owners, and also relevant to his family, as it came from the Sherborne family library.14

Though the notebook and the receipts end in 1972, books were still being bought and read. His copy of Sowerby’s English Botany … (1790-1814) contains a slip from one of Quaritch’s catalogues

of 1973, and the shelves also contain The Penguin Dictionary of Decorative Arts (1977). Sir Brinsley Ford’s memoir, printed in the 1988 guide to the house, is a wonderful account of Ralph Dutton which brings him clearly to life—his enjoyment of books did not stop even though he was losing his sight in his later years: ‘Fortu-nately he had many devoted friends, who visited him regularly at his flat in Eaton Square. My wife used to read to him about once a week. His favourite book, of which he never tired, was Lucy Norton’s wonderful translation, in three volumes, of Saint-Simon’s Memoirs. As proof of his fascination for this book, which was also amongst Proust’s favourite literature, my wife was asked to read it to him three times. I, too, used to read to him. He loved Jane Austen, Trollope, and such biographies as Duff Cooper’s Life of Talleyrand.’15 At Hinton Ampner you will find a library both used and loved, appropriate for its owner, if not strictly in keeping with the Regency taste of the library interior.

Yvonne Lewis, Assistant Libraries Curator (South and West)

1 Ralph Dutton, Hinton Ampner: a Hampshire Manor, The National Trust, 2010, p. 17.

2 Ibid. 3 Ibid., p. 54. 4 Ibid., p. 74. 5 Ibid., p. 75. 6 Ibid., p. 71.7 Ibid., p. 84. 8 Ibid, p. 78. 9 Ibid., p. 92. 10 Ibid., pp. 92-94.11 Ibid., p. 94.12 Hinton Ampner, The National Trust, 1988, p. 21.13 Receipts from Holland Bros., Birmingham, dated 2 Dec 1963 and 8 Oct 1966.14 Receipt from G. Heywood Hill, dated Jan 1962. Ralph Dutton succeeded a

cousin as the 8th Lord Sherborne in 1982.15 Ibid., p. 59.

A slip from a Quaritch catalogue on Sowerby’s ‘English Botany’

The Library destroyed by the 1960 fire

nt im

ages

/ c

hri

stop

her

hur

st

18arts|buildings|collections bulletin

Find this bulletin at www.nationaltrust.org.uk/abcbulletin Please pass the link on to your colleaguesPublished by The National Trust, Heelis, Kemble Drive, Swindon SN2 2NA Telephone 0870 600 2127 Fax 01793 817401 Correspondence to abc@nationaltrust.org.uk

Consulting Editors: David Adshead and James Grasby. Edited and designed by Terence and Eliza Sackett Tel 01278 733660 (www.sacketts.co.uk)

ACQUISITIONS

Emile de Bruijn, Registrar (Collections & Grants)

CHARTWELLA painting by Sir Winston Churchill enti-tled Formal Garden and Pavilion at Lympne, c. 1930, was purchased by private treaty for a net special price of £88,270. Port Lympne (pronounced ‘Port Lyme’) was a coun-try seat of Churchill’s acquaintance and political associate Sir Philip Sassoon, 3rd Bt. Inv. no. NT 1102504

CHASTLETON HOUSEA pair of Victorian 17th-century-style side chairs with a provenance from Chastleton was purchased at auction at Kidson-Trigg auctioneers, Highworth, Wiltshire, for £211. Inv. no. NT 2900059

CLOUDS HILLA photograph of T. E. Lawrence’s driver in Arabia, John Mackay, in WWI-era uniform and standing in front of a military staff car, was donated by Mr Francis Watts. Inv. no. NT 2900060

FLORENCE COURTA copy of Virgil, Opera (Paris, 1682), 4to, with a bookplate of William Cole, 3rd Earl of Enniskillen (1807-1886) was donated by Dr. Murray Simpson. Inv. no. NT 3195415

HOUGHTON MILLA sketch of Houghton Mill and a finished painting of the same subject, both oil on

nt im

ages

High-status handbag: portrait for Melford

Post-impressionist garden: Churchill painting for Chartwell

chri

stie

’s

MELFORD HALLA portrait of Sir Thomas Savage, 1st Viscount Savage (1586-1635), depicted with his purse of office as Chancellor to Queen Henrietta Maria, by Cornelius Janssens van Ceulen I (1593-1661), was purchased at auction at Christie’s, South Kensington, London, for £7,500 including buyer’s pre-mium with funds from gifts and bequests. Savage inherited Melford Hall in 1602. Inv. no. NT 2900055

SANDHAM MEMORIAL CHAPELA cartoon by Sir Stanley Spencer (1891-1959) was purchased at auction at Christie’s South Kensington, London, for £2,061 including buyer’s premium and artist’s resale right. It is a preparatory study for Fire Belt which is part of the sequence of paintings by Spencer at the Sandham Memorial Chapel. Inv. no. NT 2900046

WOOLSTHORPE MANORA copy of Isaac Newton, The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy, translated from the original Latin by Andrew Motte, 1729, 8vo, 2 vols., has been donated by Mrs Kate Hargreaves. Inv. no. NT 3193069

plywood, by Cyril Henry Barraud (1877-1965) were purchased at auction at Canterbury Auction Galleries, Canterbury, for £480 including buyer’s premium (together with a dozen other paintings which will not be retained). Inv. nos. NT 2900043 and NT

2900044

Human condition: Stanley Spencer drawing (detail, increased contrast) for Sandham