HERTFORD--ST. ALBANS--ELIZABETHAN ARCHITECTURE AND JOHN
THORPE--MARLOW--STONY
STRATFORD--COLCHESTER--BANBURY--TETSWORTH--OXFORD--NORFOLK AND
SUFFOLK--NORWICH PRELATES--BRICK ARCHITECTURE.
Hertford county contains many noble mansions of historical note, though
but few street scenes or homesteads that would quite fall within the
scope of the present work. On the road between Abbots Langley and St.
Albans is a pleasantly situated
[Illustration: PICTURESQUE GABLE, HERTFORD.]
house that says “old homestead” on the very face of it. Formerly it was
a large farm-house, and it has more recently been altered internally to
suit the convenience of a retired citizen. The chimneys and gables stand
out with great boldness and effect. The capital town of Hertford is
small, and though its records lead us back to great antiquity, even to
the early days of Saxon rule, there is little of antiquity now to
interest the traveller. It is, indeed, a well-built modern town, with
good streets, numerous public buildings, and several churches. It was
not without a little difficulty that the gable here represented was
selected, though this is rather ingenious in its way. An octagonal
window which rises from the ground stops under a projecting storey, and
on the same line an oriel window is thrown out. This again stops at the
eaves, over it is a gable with a double window. The proportions might
possibly be somewhat improved, but there is much ingenuity in managing
the various stops and faces. These indeed might be applied on a much
more important scale.
[Illustration: ST. ALBANS’ CLOCK TOWER.]
St. Albans is situated in this county, and is in the hundred of Cashio.
The ancient name was Verulam, a name taken from the small river Ver,
upon whose banks it is built. The Abbey of St. Albans rose in importance
before any in the kingdom, not excluding even Glastonbury, and from its
walls the earliest printed books in England were issued. The curious
clock tower here engraved stands at the junction of two streets, and is
not, as might be supposed, some part of an old church, indeed it is said
never to have had any other use than the one for which it is at present
used.
The vicinity we are now in reminds us of the name of the man who
probably invented the style of architecture which we call Elizabethan,
that is the curiously broken classic style so peculiar to England, and
now so popular. Thorpe designed Hatfield, Wollaton, Holland House, and
many other well-known residences, and it is almost by an accident that
his name has escaped oblivion. He left behind him a large volume of
designs, which is now in the Soane museum. This volume was lent by the
Earl of Warwick to Horace Walpole for his work on the _Anecdotes of
English Art_, and Walpole writes of it--“By the favour of the Earl of
Warwick I am enabled to bring to light a very capital artist, who
designed or improved most of the principal and palatial edifices erected
in the reigns of Elizabeth and James I., even though his name was
totally forgotten.” It is believed that his name was not known to Wren,
Vanbrugh, or Gibbs, and yet he was the author of a style that has been
introduced into every county in England. This folio of designs was
purchased by Soane. Among other plans is one of a house fantastically
designed for himself, forming the letters I T joined by a corridor, and
under is the eccentric couplet--
These two letters I and T,
Joined together as you see,
Make a dwelling-house for me.
JOHN THORPE.
But I remember seeing a notice of this able man and his eccentricity in
an old book, where he wrote a rhyming epitaph upon himself. Some of his
friends were asked by him in his last illness to compose one that should
rhyme, and be very short, and he fairly eclipsed all their productions
by his own, “Thorpe’s corpse.” This architect seems to have resided in
Paris for some little time, and been employed in designing alterations
for the Luxembourg, in the Faubourg St. Germain.
This volume in the Soane Museum contains a number of plans, some of
which have been reproduced by Richardson and others.[4] The Tudor
sovereigns especially favoured Hertfordshire. The children of Henry
VIII. lived at Hunsdon; and at Hatfield Palace, now the residence of the
Marquis of Salisbury, resided Edward VI. and Elizabeth. Cardinal Wolsey
had an estate at Cheshunt, near Waltham.
[Illustration: AYLESBURY, BUCKS.]
Aylesbury ought perhaps to be considered the county town of Buckingham,
since the assizes are held there. The view here given is from one corner
of the market square, and it just discloses some quaint old houses with
remarkably steep gables
[Illustration: KING’S HEAD INN, AYLESBURY.]
and high chimneys; the rest of the square is modern. The population of
Aylesbury does not exceed some 7000, but it has played many important
parts in English history. It was strongly fortified by the Britons, and
resisted the attacks of the Saxons till Cuthwolf captured it in 571.
William the Conqueror rewarded one of his followers with the estate, and
600 years after this it formed an important post of the Parliamentarian
army. The old King’s Head, here shown, was at one time a head-quarters
for the troopers. Buckingham is not a very interesting town, but two of
the bridges in it are extremely ancient. Catherine of Arragon took up
her abode here in her restless life, after being separated from King
Henry. The town was nearly burned to the ground in 1725, and that
accounts for its comparatively modern and insignificant appearance.
The ancient town of Marlow is also situated in the southern part of this
county, and the quiet rich beauty of the scenery round it is not
surpassed in any part of England.
Stony Stratford was one of the resting-places of Queen Eleanor, and
Edward I. erected a beautiful cross here, which unhappily has been
destroyed. Here also Richard III., when Duke of Gloucester, seized the
uncles of Edward V., and sent them with Sir Thomas Vaughan to
Pontefract.
Colchester in Essex was formerly a walled town, and traces of the walls
still remain. They are nearly eight feet in thickness. The manufacture
of baize was introduced here in Queen Elizabeth’s time, and many Flemish
names and faces are to be found among the inhabitants. Maldon, in this
county, and Braintree, contain many old buildings. Waltham Abbey and
Waltham Cross are familiar to every Londoner, and fortunate indeed we
may consider ourselves that such splendid relics have been spared to our
generation.
[Illustration: GABLE IN OCKWELLS, BERKS.]
The gable at Ockwells lights a fine old hall. The house was used for
some time as a farm. This is the only illustration of Berkshire, for the
county is so full of interest and beauty that it has been considered
best to reserve it for a second series of the present work. It is
impossible to do more than notice such places as Steventon, Abingdon
with its thousand associations, Cumnor, and the many places of interest
in the Vale of the White Horse. Bray is in the eastern part of the
county, near Maidenhead, and is celebrated for its vicar, who changed
his religion four times during the reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI.,
Mary, and Elizabeth; and in reply to one of his parishioners who accused
him of inconsistency, he said he adhered strictly to his principles,
which were to live and die Vicar of Bray.
“And this indeed I will maintain
Unto my dying day, sir,
Whatever King in England reign,
I’m to be Vicar of Bray, sir,”
as the ballad has it.[5]
In approaching such a county as Oxford, the difficulty is to deal with
subjects that are not already too familiar. The city of Oxford has been
described a hundred times, and Pugin and Le Keux have almost exhausted
its picturesque colleges and halls in their woodcuts and steel
engravings. Woodstock is one of the first places an Oxford student or
his friends visit, and great as the attractions of its park or palace
may be, there is little in it that comes within the scope of the present
work.
Banbury, in the northern part of the county, is an admirable example of
a fine old English town. Its noble church was, it is said, destroyed by
an alderman who was also a builder, and who erected the present
unsightly edifice in its place. The Castle of Banbury, which was built
by the Bishop of Lincoln in the twelfth century, stood a long siege
during the wars of Charles I., and the Parliamentarians ordered its
demolition when they obtained possession of it. The bars, five in
number, were standing until the present century, but now they are
destroyed. The names are peculiar, and differ considerably from those we
commonly find applied to city gates: St. John’s Bar, Sugar Bar, North
Bar, Cole Bar, and Bridge Gate. The old Banbury cross, familiar in
nursery rhymes, has lately been destroyed.
[Illustration: BANBURY: CROMWELL’S PARLIAMENT HOUSE.]
The Roebuck Inn is an extremely fine piece of architecture. The great
window on the left lights a still finer room. Indeed this chamber, with
which the low door communicates, is one of the most beautiful apartments
of the early part of Queen Elizabeth’s reign in England. It is
exceedingly rich in ornament, and all the ornaments are in excellent
taste. It is now used as a club room, or for any large gathering that
the inn--which is a very unassuming hostelry--may have to accommodate.
The inn faces the street, and the beam on the upper part of the picture
is the end of the passage leading to the courtyard in which this room is
situated. The room was the council-chamber of Oliver Cromwell after the
taking of Banbury Castle. The quaint gables that form the subject of the
next illustration are very characteristic of the town. There seems to be
no particular history connected with them, but they were not very new at
the siege of Banbury. There is one rather singular house here with three
even gables in the front, which project into the street to an enormous
distance, and are enriched in parquetry. Three circular bow windows,
also projecting into the street, are exactly under them, and stop on
their soffits, but the gables project considerably beyond the bow
windows.
[Illustration: OLD GABLES, BANBURY.]
Entering Oxford from the railway we cross over a bridge, and under it is
the picturesque scene here given. The houses are rather old, and not
perhaps very desirable as residences, but the effect is very good
indeed, and much resembles a view on the Witham in Lincoln, that will
form the subject of another engraving.
Tetsworth, on the London and Oxford road, is a perfect specimen of an
old English coaching town, but its glories have declined, of course,
since the days of railroads. Dorchester is an ancient village, and
contains the cathedral church of St. Peter and St. Paul, full of
venerable memorials, and the embankments called Dyke Hills were thrown
up as old fortifications in the Roman times.
[Illustration: OLD HOUSES, OXFORD.]
But, of course, the chief interest of the county centres in the capital
city. The great Oxford historian Anthony-a-Wood tells us that many of
the students were “mere varlets, who pretended to be scholars, who lived
under no discipline, neither had any tutors, but only for fashion sake
would sometimes thrust themselves into the schools of ordinary
lectures; and when they went to perform any mischief, then they would be
accounted scholars, that so they might free themselves from the
jurisdiction of the burghers.” This was the benefit of clergy! The
professors of learning there, Franciscan friars, were men of very high
character, and free from any suspicion of worldly ambition; indeed
Chaucer well describes them in the Oxford Clerk. “The hilly nature of
the roads,” says the topographer, “leading to Oxford, makes the city
present a magnificent appearance to the traveller as he approaches it,
for stretched out before him lies a succession of spires, towers, domes,
and public edifices, between which and the rivers extend a number of
beautiful luxuriant meadows; nor is he disappointed upon his entrance
into the city, for each street presents some building which compels him
to stop and admire either its construction or its antiquity. Entering by
the London road, and thus traversing Oxford from east to west, we pass
Magdalen College with its tower of eight pinnacles, University College,
Queen’s College, All Souls’ College, St. Mary’s Church, and All Saints’
Church, a picturesque series of colleges and churches interspersed with
antique and modern houses. From
[Illustration: MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD.]
the Abingdon branch of the London Road the entrance is not quite so
effective, but the line of streets running from north to south contains
St. Giles’ Church, etc.; the Martyrs’ Memorial, erected in memory of the
burning of Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, in Queen Mary’s reign. The
quiet which characterises its streets, the constant sound of bells
summoning to study or prayer, and the absence of heavy traffic,
distinguish it from ordinary cities.”
[Illustration: GROVE STREET, OXFORD.]
But the college that is perhaps the most beloved by Englishmen is
Magdalen, owing to its spirited opposition to the attempts which James
II. made to tyrannise over its authorities and rights. The tower of
Merton Chapel, here given, is extremely well proportioned, and forms a
pleasing object in High Street. The tower and transept seem to have more
recent characteristics than the body of the chapel, which is Late
Decorated, and not very happy. Speaking of the foundation of this
college, a careful writer says: “No regular plan of the regime of Oxford
can be found till the foundation of Merton College by Roger de Merton in
1247, but his statutes were gradually adopted with alterations by other
succeeding colleges. These facts, on the whole, give us a kind of
glimpse of the foundation of the present university. And comparatively
rude and simple as the arrangements no doubt were, as compared with the
elaborate system that now prevails, there is one startling fact in
connection with this foundation or revival of University College--there
were then 15,000 scholars at the university of Oxford. It is a common
remark that this and the 30,000 students of the reign of Henry III. are
mere exaggerations, but apparently the assertion is made on no better
foundation than the fact that no such state of things prevails now. All
Souls’ College, a little farther on, has a fine irregular
[Illustration: MERTON COLLEGE CHAPEL, OXFORD.]
front to the street, and is really an excellent example of street
architecture. It is “the college of the Souls of all faithful people
deceased of Oxford,” seeming, as has been said, to convey the idea of a
spiritual cemetery. Jeremy Taylor, Bishop Heber, and Sir Christopher
Wren were educated here. It appears that the idea so quaintly expressed
was chiefly intended to praying for the good estate of Henry VI.,
Archbishop Chicheley, who was the founder, and also for the souls of
Henry V., the Duke of Clarence, and of all those dukes, earls, barons,
knights, and esquires that had fallen in the war with France.” One of
the finest libraries in England is to be found at All Souls; “it
measures,” the authority quoted from says, “190 feet in length by 32½ in
breadth, swelling out in the centre to above 50 feet, whilst the height,
40 feet, is sufficient to allow of a gallery that extends round three
sides of the room.” The collection of books is among the finest even in
Oxford.
Magdalen College is a noble piece of architecture from whatever side it
is viewed. By the _Oxford University Calendar_ it appears that it was
founded in 1458 by William de Waynflete, who was successively
head-master of Winchester and Eton Colleges, Provost of Eton, Bishop of
Winchester, and at the same time Lord High Chancellor of England. He had
once been master of Magdalen Hospital, near Winchester, and that,
doubtless, suggested the name of his college at Oxford. The part of the
quadrangle here shown certainly seems to be of a later date than the
foundation of the college. As far as the style of design goes, it is a
very impressive majestic piece of architecture, and as there are several
singular anachronisms in the known date of some of the buildings here,
it is, of course, possible that it may be the original building.
Waynflete was greatly attached to Henry VI., who, if the character that
Shakespeare would seem to sketch of him is reliable, was himself a
scholarlike painstaking man, as far as simple literary ability is
concerned. The high character of Waynflete protected him in the days of
Edward IV., notwithstanding his attachment to the cause of Henry VI.; he
was buried in great pomp at Winchester in 1486, in a fine chantry
chapel, that is kept in preservation by Magdalen College.
The entrance gateway, here shown, is a more characteristic scene of the
period of Waynflete. The architecture is older in character, and the
effect perhaps even better; indeed this is as fine a piece of
architecture for a street corner as any now existing in England. The
interest in Magdalen College is from its sturdy resistance to James II.
when he decided, as Bishop Burnet quaintly tells us, to send a mandamus
requiring the college authorities to choose one Farmer for their
president, who had no other qualification except that he had changed his
religion. “Mandamus letters,” the bishop with simple candour tells us,
“had no legal authority in them, but all the great preferments in
[Illustration: ENTRANCE GATE, MAGDALEN COLLEGE.]
the church being at the King’s disposal, those who did pretend to favour
were not apt to refuse his recommendation, lest that should be
afterwards remembered to their prejudice. But now, since it was visible
in what channel favour was likely to run, less regard was had to such a
letter.” This candid thinker-aloud tells us that one Dr. Hough was in
every way a suitable man, and one of their body, so he was elected; but
the breach between the King and Oxford led to the most important
results.
[Illustration: ORIEL COLLEGE, OXFORD.]
Norfolk and Suffolk were the last counties visited for the purposes of
this present work, and it is a matter of regret that they cannot occupy
so much space as their extremely interesting remains demand. Norwich is
certainly one of the most interesting cities in England. Formerly the
Duke of Norfolk used to reside here for a part of the year, in almost
regal state, and many houses were built by the gentry who attended his
court. This in a great measure accounts for the number of fine old
mansions that remain in the city. The ecclesiastics of Norwich do not
seem to have been so amiable as their brethren of Ely, and many were the
disputes that occurred between them and the citizens. Sometimes a
boundary and sometimes an outrage was the bone of contention, till on
one occasion the monks killed several citizens who endeavoured to take
possession of a piece of land which the monastery claimed. An inquest
was held, and a verdict of wilful murder returned against the monks who
had killed them. This seems to have been met promptly by a sentence of
excommunication against every citizen in Norwich, but as it did not
reduce them to a proper tone of submission, the ecclesiastical party
betook to more carnal weapons, and secure in their walls they beguiled
many an hour with archery practice at the expense of the citizens. The
chroniclers tell us that the clerical party tired at last of this
desultory warfare, and on the Sunday before St. Lawrence day (which
would be in the beginning of August) “sallied out, and went in a raging
manner about the city,” killing and plundering. They concluded their
Sunday’s labours by breaking open a tavern kept by one Hugh de Bromholm,
drinking all the wine they could, and turning on the taps before
leaving. Of course this led to further civil war, till the king
interfered.
Every visitor to Norwich will remember the fine Erpingham gateway; it
does not figure here because in a future work I propose to illustrate
the gateways of England, with their history; but briefly speaking, it
may be said to consist of a two-centred arch, curiously and profusely
adorned with figures, niches, trees, birds, shields, and armorial
bearings. Sir Thomas Erpingham appears to have favoured the cause of
Wycliffe, and been condemned to prison by the clerical party, though
they afterwards were induced to commute his sentence to a fine such as
would enable them to build this gateway, and do some other
ecclesiastical architecture in the neighbourhood. He was an old man in
Henry V.’s time, but commanded the archers at the battle of Agincourt,
and gave the signal for the first forward movement of the English, by
throwing his truncheon high up in the air, and calling out, “Now
strike!” But for his favour with Henry IV. he would probably have
suffered worse than he did at the hands of the Church party, for
Spencer, the bishop of the diocese at that time, declared that he would
make every Lollard hop headless, or else, in his energetic language,
“fry a faggot.” Erpingham’s loyalty to Bolingbroke’s son is beautifully
suggested in Shakespeare when he enters the tent where Henry is putting
the best face on their apparently hopeless position to Bedford and
Gloucester--“There is some soul of goodness in things evil,” etc.; and
the king cheerily addresses the then aged knight,
“Good morrow, old Sir Thomas Erpingham;
A good soft pillow for that good white head,
Were better than a churlish turf of France.”
To which Erpingham replies characteristically,
“Not so, my liege; this lodging likes me better,
Since I may say--Now lie I like a king.”
Norwich cathedral groups in beautiful contrast to the various
surroundings of the city. The view here given of it is from the Ferry
and the precinct gate; but the Grammar School, the Castle, the Market
School, and Guildhall, must be left; the view however of the Cathedral
from the Bishop’s Bridge is very striking; it has been engraved in
Britton’s _Picturesque Antiquities of English Cities_. Attleborough is
an ancient place; Downham Market,
[Illustration: NORWICH PRECINCT GATE AND FERRY.]
[Illustration: ABBOT’S BRIDGE, BURY ST. EDMUNDS.]
and East Dereham, which also contains a market that dates back to Edward
the Confessor, must be passed by till a future series of the present
work. The picturesque bridge called the Abbot’s Bridge forms the subject
of the next illustration; it is one of the many objects of beauty in
Bury, and belonged to the Abbey at one time. Parliaments were held here
by Henry III., Edward I., and Henry VI., and the shrine of St. Edmund
was visited by Henry VII. and his queen, Elizabeth. Dickens speaks of
this place as “the bright little town of Bury St. Edmund’s.” This
structure, of which only a part is shown, well illustrates the way in
which mediæval architects understood how to design a bridge, and the
same may be said of the one at Huntingdon. Barry, in an excellent
lecture read before the Royal Academy, remarks that there is no reason
why architecture should suffer from the abundance of means to compass an
end that engineering has placed in its way: he might have gone further,
and instanced the beautiful works of Telford or Payne or Rennie. Barry
says that old London Bridge with its narrow pointed arches, and roadway
encumbered with shops, had doubtless a very picturesque appearance, but
even in these days of revived mediævalism he says they would hardly be
copied. The old bridges, however, were remarkable for their bridge-like
appearance; the piers were free from columns, and in a running stream
they were exactly suited to resist the flow of water against them. The
old bridge of Huntingdon might stand for many ages if not molested. The
Abbot’s Bridge, here shown, is a very beautifully proportioned object,
and the piercing of the buttresses gives it an appearance of lightness.
Of course this would not have been done if any great resisting power
were required against a sudden freshet.
No house is better known perhaps than Sparrowe’s House, Ipswich, in the
old Butter-market. Formerly this street contained many fine specimens
of old domestic architecture, which have disappeared, but Sparrowe’s
House is not only in perfect order, it is appreciated and cared for
worthily. This ancient residence consists of four oriel windows,
projecting considerably over the street, an enormous cornice extends
over these again, and set back in the roof are four gabled windows. The
Sparrowe family have occupied it for many generations, and although the
ornamentations looked at singly are rather rude and barbaric, the whole
effect is extremely fine. A house still older than this stood on the
site till 1567, when the present mansion was built, and this is alluded
to in Mr. Cobbold’s _Freston Tower_. The last member of the Sparrowe
family who lived here was the town-clerk of Ipswich, and now the
building is occupied by Mr. Haddock, one of the leading provincial
booksellers in that part of England. Here there is good reason for
believing that Charles II. was concealed after the battle of Worcester.
In 1801 a curiously hidden loft was discovered, the entrance to which
was concealed ingeniously in a panel. Brook Street, which runs at right
angles to the street where Sparrowe’s House is situated, contains yet
the remains of some old mansions, and in the work _Freston Tower_ there
is an excellent description of the appearance of a street in Henry
VIII.’s time. In a passage leading out of St. Nicholas Street, near St.
Nicholas’ Church, there are some traces of the house where Cardinal
Wolsey was born in 1471. In an admirable Guide to Ipswich, published by
Mr. Vick of that town, it is said, “At the back there still exists a
part of the premises in which the Cardinal’s father lived. That he was a
butcher is open to doubt; the origin of the assertion being that he was
a man of some property, amongst which was included the butchers’
shambles.” Farther down, the streets all bear historic names, such as
Wolsey Street, Cardinal Street, etc. St. Peter’s Church stands near, and
passing by it we enter College Street, which takes its name from the
College the Cardinal built here. The gateway only remains, but it is a
fine piece of architecture, built of brick, without stone enrichments,
and it can be described with perfect accuracy. There are two turrets of
octagonal shape on each side, and a bold Tudor gateway between them.
This gateway is surmounted by a brick label-moulding, and over this is a
coat-of-arms between two brick niches, and over the niches are eight
quatrefoils. Fuller says that King Henry was offended because the
Cardinal set his armorial bearings above the King’s at the gatehouse,
but this cannot refer to the gatehouse that is left, as the royal arms
are the only ones there. This gateway resembles Hampton Court in
character very closely, and probably was the work of the same designer.
The College was founded in the twentieth year of Henry VIII., and
dedicated to the Virgin. Three years after, the Cardinal fell into
disgrace, and the College was razed to the ground. This is alluded to in
the exquisite scene between Griffith and Queen Katherine--“Henry VIII.”
“And though he were unsatisfied in getting
(Which was a sin), yet in bestowing, Madam,
He was most princely: Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that he raised in you,
Ipswich and Oxford; one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it;
The other, though unfinished, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.”
Before reverting to the subject of brick architecture, which Cardinal
Wolsey managed so well, we may refer to a window from a farm-house near
Salisbury, the dressings of which are stone, simply to show what can be
made by a single form ingeniously managed. The whole design is
constructed out of a single form of light, a rectangle with an end cut
off diagonally, yet even a practised draughtsman would be unlikely to
succeed in reproducing the pattern after studying it, and closing the
book for a short time. This is introduced merely to show what great
variety can be made by combination of a single form; and if two, or at
the most three, moulds of bricks are used, there is literally no limit
to the designer’s materials.
“Bricks, and especially red bricks,” says Mr. Trollope, “are almost
always mentioned with great disrespect in connection with architecture,
so that when admirers of that noble science hear upon their travels of a
town or church, or indeed of any building constructed of brick, they say
to their drivers, ‘On, on, there is no pleasure or repose for our eyes
there. Do not deposit us in a locality where one side of the way is
glowering with a coarsely ruddy aspect at an equally ruddy opposite row
of houses; or where a church of the same hue was built some eighty years
ago, whose thin smooth walls and Venetian east window already droop
across our imagination to the depression of the spirits.’” Bricks,
however, as he justly proceeds to argue, are not only useful, but a
building material for which a deep debt of gratitude is due. True it is
they baffle the skill of an ordinary architect of modern times, but in
the reign of Henry VIII. they were a favourite medium for building.
Witness Hampton Court for example, or Hurstmonceaux, or Charlton Hall in
Kent. Sometimes brick houses are erected entirely of brick, and at other
times they have stone dressings.
Holland House, built in 1607 by Sir Walter Cope, where many men of
genius have congregated, and Hatfield House, the residence of the
Cecils, for whom it was built in 1611, are more familiar examples still,
though Sutton Place, near Guildford, is said to be the finest example in
England, and is built of brick entirely without the aid of stone, and it
shows what may be accomplished in this fine material. “Its doorway is
surmounted by a panel of moulded bricks representing Cupids within
enriched borders, and flanked by small octangular turrets, entirely
covered with tuns in relief--the device of the builder, or with his
initials. The walls are occasionally diversified with reticulated
patterns in black bricks, and the string-courses and even mullions of
the windows, also of brick, are ornamented with richly moulded patterns,
in which the family tun has a conspicuous place. The whole façade, after
having been much diversified by bay windows and boldly projecting
features, is surmounted by an elaborately decorated parapet and slender
octagonal pinnacles, etc.”
Sutton Place has been beautifully illustrated in Nash’s _Mansions in the
Olden Time_, and is a perfect storehouse of instruction for modern
architects.
The grammar-school at Hull, now vacant and crumbling, is another
excellent example of brickwork on a more moderate scale. The gable and
chimney here shown are well broken up into light and shadow, and
beautifully proportioned. The date of the foundation is 1486, and
probably the portion illustrated is of nearly the same antiquity. The
whole of this is brick unassisted by stone, and even the coping is
ingeniously contrived by one brick overlapping another. The mullions and
window-heads also are of brick not moulded, but the ordinary rectangular
ones are contrived to answer all the purposes of the architect.
[Illustration: BRICK GABLE, GRAMMAR SCHOOL, HULL.]
Mr. Trollope in his admirable paper points out that Babylon at a very
early period practised brick-making, as did also Assyria and Egypt;
whilst the Romans, whose powers of adaptation are yet a wonder to us,
became so enamoured of bricks for constructive purposes that they used
wide bricks in arches and vaultings, on account of their utility in
shaping, even where stone was plentiful. Indeed bricks have been used by
our Saxon forefathers, as in the church of Brixworth and elsewhere; and
in the twelfth century the preference seems almost to have been given to
brickwork in many important European buildings. During the fourteenth
century stone seems to have the preference over brick in England, though
on the Continent many important buildings were built of the latter
material.
The principles which, after comparing many examples of different dates,
seemed to me the true ones, in order to successfully use bricks, are few
and simple, and it is a great pleasure to find them in many respects
identical with those Mr. Trollope has laid down in the excellent paper
to which this chapter is so much indebted.[6]
Martel, in his _Principles of Colouring_, published by Winsor & Newton,
says that in the present state of our knowledge it is difficult to offer
a satisfactory explanation of the cause of the peculiar colours of
different substances--that is, why grass is green, or copper red, or
silver white; and he adds that it is usual to account for them by saying
that all bodies _absorb_ certain colours and reflect others, the colour
absorbed being always complementary to that reflected. Thus if a body is
green it is said to absorb the red rays, and reflect blue and yellow,
and so with others. He further says that if the eye sees red it is
immediately called up to see another colour, namely green, which is the
exact contrast; and states that if a red flower is placed on a sheet of
white paper and suddenly withdrawn, a green image will faintly appear to
the eye.
Now a broad red wall is one of the most dreary objects of modern
civilisation, and, indeed, the side of a square, broken only by
rectangular windows, as exhibited in London squares, has doubtless had a
depressing and injurious effect on the duration of human life. Russell
Square and Bedford Square are familiar instances of this; and how
unfavourably they contrast with old Lincoln’s Inn buildings, in the same
city, the engraving will show, yet the same architecture that prevails
in Lincoln’s Inn would abundantly serve all the purposes of a London
square of modern times. The corbelling out of the chimney, and the way
in which the octagon and gables blend together, is artistic to a passing
degree, and well the designer knew the value of the material he had in
hand. Probably it was erected in the latter part of Queen Elizabeth’s
reign.
[Illustration: ANCIENT BRICKWORK, LINCOLN’S INN.]
Lincoln’s Inn was equal in importance, it is said, to the Temple, and
had its annual revels. The Temple master of these was a “Lord of
Misrule,” till the better feeling of the members stopped all these
saturnalia. “Assumed characters,” it is said, were so numerous that they
required limitation in the edicts of the Benchers, and “Jack Straw” and
his train were banished under pain of any one who assumed the character
paying five pounds; and though Charles II. visited Lincoln’s Inn to see
the revels, they were doomed to disappear.
To return to the subject of brick structures and the laws that should
guide them, the principles of Martel ought not to be lost sight of, and
well indeed Mr. Trollope seems to have felt them. A pedestal of stone,
as he instances, even if flat, would not be an eyesore, because the
ordinary colours of stone are not obtrusive, while a pedestal of red
brick without proper relief would be simply intolerable. The colour of
the material requires us to handle it with more thoughtfulness than
stone. Who does not delight in the red coat of a trooper in one of the
old Dutch pictures, or a red cow in one of Cuyp’s pieces?
A good architect must be a good artist too in dealing with this
difficult material, and he has to handle his shadows with skill, and not
only so, he must carry these into as many interstices as possible; he
calls upon nature to aid him with gray shades by bringing some features
forward, and deeply recessing others, and by repeating octangular
features as much as possible, so as to make the most out of the chances
of shadow that are afforded to him. “Knowing further how ill a straight
line of heavy red looks when forced into contrast with the transparent
blue sky, or even with the fleecy gray clouds above, he multiplies his
gables as far as he consistently can, and exhibits them where they will
most be seen, raises up his chimney shafts in irregular groups, and
delights to diversify them by a few turrets and pinnacles, etc., so as
to give as much variety and lightness to his structures as possible.”
The house where Mr. William Wilberforce was born, in Hull, is a very
curious specimen of brickwork, and differs in every respect from the
examples we have been considering. It seems hardly to be indigenous,
and, perhaps, belongs to a large class of brick houses that were
imported from Flanders; indeed, the term “Flemish bond,” as applied to
the peculiar style of brickwork that prevailed in England after the
reign of William and Mary, sufficiently indicates a foreign origin, and
now it is commonly used in specifications of buildings where it is
required, as distinguished from English bond, and is thoroughly
understood by modern workmen.
[Illustration: HOUSE WHERE WILBERFORCE WAS BORN.]
Of course there is a limit to the scope in which bricks may be said to
compete with stone for building purposes. The nature of the material
prevents our having any great projections; they would require to be
supported by iron bands and set in cement, and be entirely false
construction, if not dangerous, and statuary or sculpture is of course
out of the question in brick. But there is nothing to prevent deeply
recessed openings in windows or doorways, and many patterns might be
repeated, such as pateræ or cuspings. In all old brickwork there is no
attempt to conceal the nature of the material, or make it appear to do
more than it actually does in the building. But brickwork is capable of
being used in tracery in churches when geometrical work is required, and
by splaying the bricks if necessary a very useful material indeed is
revived.
I wish I could agree with Mr. Trollope’s admirable paper in his estimate
of parti-coloured bricks; he has given some examples of these which are
quite as good as anything of the kind, but there is always an unpleasant
look about this mode of decoration. Bricks in contrasted colours cannot
avoid a harlequin appearance; the variety of colours is always great,
and the contrast too strong to be pleasant. The charming surroundings
with which we may have seen this kind of decoration in foreign lands
often may be the cause of our having a kindly feeling towards it, but
even then we none of us, probably, have admired it at first. The real
point to aim at in the contrast of colours is the natural light and
shade that octagonal turrets and deep recesses can afford us.
Hurstmonceaux, Tattershall Castle, Hampton Court, or Lincoln’s Inn, give
us all this in perfection. Moulded bricks might be used also with great
advantage in fireplaces in rooms; and at a fraction of the expense of
the dreary chilly marble “mantel-pieces,” as they are called, a
handsome pleasing feature might be introduced. It would not be
desirable perhaps to employ white mortar, for fear of giving an
unfinished appearance, but mortar can be tinted in a hundred ways, and a
chimney-piece of bricks, moulded and square, might be put up at a cost
of £5 or £6, that should far exceed the peculiar ones that disfigure our
town houses of modern days, at five times the cost.
[Illustration: WINDOW IN OLD FARM-HOUSE NEAR SALISBURY.]
[Illustration: MARKET PLACE, PETERBOROUGH.]