OLD SUBURBAN MANSIONS.
It is always pleasant to see some old, well-preserved mansion, with its
pictures and doorways in good condition, the attendant housekeeper
directing attention in her prim “show-woman” way to the carvings by
“_Grumbling Gibbons_” (a phrase once actually uttered). More grateful,
however, is it to come by chance on some neglected, unsung mansion which
is celebrated by no flourishings of housekeepers, and which lingers on
in its modest seclusion. Such used to be Hoghton Tower in Lancashire,
with its long-forsaken court and leaden statue in the centre, its
terraces and balustrades, all sad and dilapidated, but now restored to
its old uses.
There are still to be found about London suburbs a few of the old and
picturesque family mansions built in the days of King William or Queen
Anne. These veterans of ripe, time-defying brick, spacious and even
elegant in their proportions, excite more interest than many of us are
able to explain. Some of the best have been levelled. A few still
exist--usually altered and added to, for the use of schools or
“institutions”; but not many of them are likely to last much longer.
Last year we heard of a fine old house at Wandsworth that had been
doomed: it was to be cleared away by some builder of suburban villas. It
was a very interesting specimen of its kind. It stood back a little from
the road--presenting a rather imposing front of ripe and hard old red
brick, with a richly-carved tympanum curiously protected from the
incursions of the birds by a wire netting--a building well disposed and
balanced, with two little low wings or “dependences” peeping from behind
luxuriant shrubs. Over all was that sort of red rust which gives a
grateful look of ripeness to old brickwork. The doorway was well and
richly carved. Welcome, on entering, was the prospect of the old hall,
dusky, panelled in oak, and crossed by three airy arches, well carved,
with light pillars suggesting a colonnade. Beyond was the stair, rising
effectively in short lengths. The elegant, twisted rail, slight but
stable, the solidly-moulded balustrade--were admirably effective and
interesting. The wall of the stair was richly dight with allegorical
painting; whilst in the carved ceiling, among the clouds and vapours,
were stately medallions with portraits. The colours, though somewhat
faded and overlaid with grime, were in good order, and when cleaned
would no doubt make a brave show. Verrio’s work--a country job--we may
easily believe it to be. All through the mansion was abundant panelling
and doors, with cornices richly cut. There was a perplexing little room,
seemingly sliced off some greater apartment, the ceiling of which also
displayed pictorial glories--two tremendous dames seated on clouds, one
handing a sealed letter to the other. In the broad ceiling over the
stair a medallion picture, said to be a portrait of the Duchess of York;
and another believed to represent Queen Anne. In all this there was a
sense of surprise mingled with a tranquil charm, a kind of new
sensation. It was pleasant to think that the hard and grinding London
practical spirit had overlooked this graceful relic. The spirit of Anne
seemed to flutter through the old chambers. But it was on passing
through to the back, to the old-fashioned “grounds,” that this sentiment
was intensified. Looking up we could see that its back façade was as
architectural as the front, displaying another richly-carved pediment
and scutcheon with what appeared to be a cipher. The solemn brickwork,
rusted and mellow, looked down on an old-fashioned, low-lying
plaisaunce. From the richly-carved doorway we entered upon a stone
platform, two gracefully-curved flights of steps sweeping down to the
garden. Here you could scarcely believe that you were close to the
high-road and to the ever-jingling tram-cars. Beyond, there were shady
old trees and velvet lawns, strongly marked by an old-fashioned air of
tranquillity. This old place is said to have been the residence of the
Princess Anne and her husband. For my part, I have no hesitation in
accepting the tradition. In any case, let us hope that the spoiler will
not be allowed to intrude. There are but few of this pattern in or near
London, and none so interesting as this “Wandsworth Manor-house.”
Another house is also interesting, not merely from its merits as a
picturesque structure, but also from its associations. Half way up
Highgate Hill, which leads us to a cluster of old houses and on to
Hampstead, where there are many more, we come to a solid,
impregnable-looking building, rising in its garden, and standing retired
behind a low wall and surrounded by old trees. This is Cromwell’s House,
which, the tradition runs, was inhabited by him, or by one of his
generals--Ireton, most probably. This fine old building impresses us by
its massive and picturesque air, its high roof and “shaggy” eaves, its
heavy solid cupola, and its rich and beautiful carvings. The very wooden
gates of the period have been retained, with their delicate carvings in
low relief. The tone and colouring of the brickwork is of a mellow
genial crimson, almost a raspberry tint, the mouldings are all delicate,
yet bold and firm, a model for modern artists in brick; they are as
sharp
[Illustration: CROMWELL’S HOUSE, HIGHGATE.]
as on the day they were wrought and will stand time and weather for a
century to come. The doorway is heavy and massive. The whole aspect of
this fine old mansion suggests that we are a hundred miles away from
London. When we enter, we find nothing but deep-brown oak, heavily
corniced doors, a hall all set off with the same material, sombre and
mysterious. Beyond is the stair, which has a celebrity of its own: it is
laid out in the always effective style of short flights of half a dozen
steps, with then a turn at right angles, and a landing, as though our
fathers, like Hamlet, were “short and scant of breath,” and liked to
ascend leisurely. There are fine massive balustrades and--here is the
curiosity of the thing--at intervals rise carved oak statuettes of the
Parliamentary soldiers with singular and pleasing effect. It is
astonishing that these _bizarre_ ornaments have escaped destruction
hitherto, and that accident or design has not damaged or destroyed them.
The old house is now a children’s hospital, and nurses and matrons pass
up and down the Parliamentary staircase. But this occupancy suggests
misgivings, as a hospital, once it begins to flourish, has a fashion of
expanding or levelling regardless of antiquarian associations. The
choice piece of ground, the gardens behind, and the fine healthy,
stimulating air are tempting enough; and a few years may see the
Cromwellian house levelled, and an imposing modern, but hideous pile
reared in its place.
A scientific pilgrimage in search of the old London houses and mansions
would discover even much more that is interesting and novel. London
abounds in such. But here the same old story of disaster has to be
repeated--the best are going or gone. Not by the slow processes of the
leveller and builder, but through some onsets which work wholesale.[13]
[Illustration: FAIRFAX HOUSE, PUTNEY.]
Among the solid old houses in the London suburbs, few attracted the
pedestrian more powerfully than the imposing residence at Putney, known
as Fairfax House. This pile of old brick was a welcome adornment to
that pleasing bit of Putney which was close to the bridge. Its great
length, old ivy, quaint gables and grounds, gave it a particular
attraction. Yet, in 1886, the word went forth that it was to be
levelled, and the ground built over.
Many protests were made, among others, by a lady who had been a former
resident. “I lived,” she pleaded, “for nineteen years in that dear old
house, and would take any trouble to prevent its destruction. It is
older than he mentions. The house was built by one Dawes, a merchant, in
the reign of Henry VIII. Queen Elizabeth used to breakfast in the
oak-panelled drawing-room, waiting for the tide, to ford the river on
her journeys from Sheen to London. This gave it the name of the Queen’s
House, by which it is called in the older documents, and by which it was
known till the present name was given after General Fairfax was
quartered there. The house was added to in the reign of Queen Anne; this
date is given on one of the two sun-dials on the walls. Much more lofty
rooms were built over the low drawing-room. Besides its picturesqueness
and historic interest, the old house has the merit of being built in a
substantial style only too rare in these days. The best preservation
would be if some rich man would buy. Could not the garden be saved also?
Such a variety of fine old specimen trees is rarely to be met with even
in much larger grounds: and the house would be much spoilt by having the
garden destroyed.”
But some practical-minded surveyors, in whose hands was the sale of the
house, came to demolish the story: “Many erroneous statements have been
published, and we may state that there is no shut-up room in the house.
There was formerly an enclosed space in the cellars, but this was opened
some years ago, and nothing whatever was discovered. There is no
indication of any subterranean passage, and it would be difficult to
propound any theory to account for its supposed existence. There is
every reason to suppose that the house was never visited by Queen
Elizabeth, and this supposition is strengthened by the fact that no
portion of the house (which we have carefully inspected) appears to be
of older date than her reign. If Queen Elizabeth was ever entertained in
the oak-panelled drawing-room, as has been stated, the room must then
have presented a totally different appearance, as the present panelling
is about the date of the Restoration, and much of the work in the house
is of considerably later date. It is also practically certain that
Fairfax never took up his quarters in Fairfax House, although it is
probable that his Commissary-General, Ireton, might have done so.” It is
probable that few owners of moderate income, who were offered a large
sum for some relic of antiquity, would decline, no matter how æsthetic
their tastes. The result of the discussion was that the house was
levelled, and over its fair gardens was built a row of practical and
unlovely shops.
In the year 1888, a number of famous and historic houses were offered
for sale by Messrs. Lumley. These included the old Shaw House at
Newbury. “This may claim to rank, from an historical point of view,
among the most interesting places in the southern counties. The
beautiful Elizabethan mansion house, built by John Doleman just three
centuries ago, is that same Shaw House, otherwise ‘Doleman’s,’ which
figures so prominently in the exciting story of the second battle of
Newbury. It is one of the few remaining sixteenth-century houses which,
while it is in good preservation, has suffered nothing from the rash
hand of the restorer, and its bowling-greens, fish-ponds, yew walks and
paths along the Lambourne, and even the defensive works thrown up by the
Royalist army, are still there to illustrate its remarkable history.” On
the same day was offered for sale Carshalton House--whence Dr. Radcliffe
was summoned to attend the death-bed of Queen Anne, and did not go. This
mansion has its richly-timbered grounds and “fayre” gardens, and
beautiful iron gates. There was also “submitted to public competition”
Chalfont Park and Lodge, which was praised by Horace Walpole; also “The
Oaks,” associated pleasingly with General Burgoyne’s drama “The Maid of
the Oaks,” an old castellated red-brick mansion, standing in well-wooded
grounds. Gatton House, with its marble hall, was also sold, once
connected with the notorious and corrupt old borough. This was not bad
for a single day’s work. The probability would be that the buyer would
turn his purchase to immediate profit, level, and sell materials, and
lay out the grounds for villa residences.
Yet one more agreeable old mansion, whose fall is hovering in the
balance, or has been already determined, is the pleasing Raleigh House,
out at Brixton.[14] It stood, or stands, in some charming grounds,
old-fashioned, and rather secluded. For some years an agitation has been
going on in the district to secure it as a park.
It is nearer to London, however, that the old houses disappear with the
rapidity of a pantomimic change. The temptation of a garden and
“grounds” is irresistible. Now where a single house stood you can trace
a street of villas or terraces. A keen, sympathetic antiquary, living at
Stoke Newington, Mr. Andrews, kept mournful watch on this, and some
years ago recorded these baleful efforts:--
“Like autumn leaves, the ripe old red-brick mansions of the seventeenth
and early part of the eighteenth century, which stood in their spacious
grounds surrounded by lofty buttressed walls, and which gave a peculiar
character to our London suburbs, are falling around us. Only a few
months have passed since I recorded the demolition of Fleetwood House;
last month the end of
[Illustration: RALEIGH HOUSE.]
Kensington House was narrated, and I have two others to add to the
series this month. The flat little branch line which ran out of Lower
Edmonton was terminated at its Enfield end by a fine old red-brick
mansion of the period of Queen Anne, which was utilized as the terminal
station. This alteration would seem to necessitate the erection of a new
station and the removal of the old one; so that probably before these
lines are in the hands of the reader, the pick will be at its cruel work
upon the fine old pile. The front of the house has good specimens of
carved and moulded brickwork. The central portion of the front is,
perhaps, one of the finest pieces of English brickwork in existence. It
consists of an elaborate entablature, with a segmental pediment and four
pilasters, which divide the front into three spaces, the central space,
which contains a large window, being twice as wide as the lateral ones,
each of which contains a niche, semicircular in plan, with a
semicircular head, filled in with a well-carved cherub’s head. Above the
niche is a panel containing swags of fruit and flowers, well carved out
of brickwork. The entablature is very elaborately moulded and carved,
the cornice having delicately-moulded dentils. Each pilaster has a
carved composite capital. The bricks of which this portion of the front
is formed are small, and the joints are almost imperceptible. All the
carving is out of the solid brickwork, and none of this work appears to
have been cast. The front contains, in addition, four windows, with
carved brick architraves and label-heads. The other features are the
usual ones found in houses of this period. All the rooms are panelled.
“The other old house is at the foot of Denmark Hill, Camberwell, and was
till lately known as ‘Denmark Hill Grammar School.’ It was erected by
Sir Christopher Wren upwards of two hundred years ago, and is said to be
the last specimen of his work in the neighbourhood. It was once the
residence of Mrs. Thrale, and during her occupancy Dr. Johnson was, no
doubt, a frequent visitor here, as he was at Kensington House. The
mansion was, on the 16th ult., sold in upwards of a hundred lots for old
building materials, and two hundred small houses will shortly spring up
on the site.”
The changes which have taken place in the City have been so
imperceptible that we are scarcely conscious of the alteration of old
landmarks and lines of streets. They have been well summarized by a
laborious antiquary in one of the daily papers:--
“The amount of rebuilding that has taken place in the last ten years far
exceeds that necessitated by the Great Fire. With the exception of the
Regent’s route, cut through from Carlton House up to Regent’s Park,
there is no important thoroughfare that has not changed its appearance
in the last few years. The Strand and Piccadilly are on the maps what
they were long ago, but one by one, and sometimes in small groups, so
many houses have been pulled down and rebuilt that their appearance is
considerably altered. Where entire rebuilding has not been effected,
refronting has been adopted in many cases, as, _e.g._, in Gower Street,
Hans Place, and several houses in Mayfair. Mount Street and its
neighbourhood is new, Cheyne Walk, Chelsea, is not recognizable, while
Flood Street and others adjoining have been swept away. The aspect of
Whitehall is greatly changed of late years, and Spring Gardens is all
but gone. Michael’s Grove, Brompton, has undergone a thorough
transformation. The whole area about Lower Sloane Street, where was the
Old Chelsea Market, with its neighbouring courts, has been cleared, and
is already partly rebuilt. The completion of Lennox Gardens and Cadogan
Square was followed almost immediately by the rebuilding of Leete
Street, Draycott Place and Street, and part of the King’s Road.
Shaftesbury Avenue and the new Charing Cross Road are showing their
influence right and left of them, and the whole of that part of London
is becoming new, while their existence has already altered the character
of life in the celebrated Seven Dials neighbourhood.”