SIDE OF DINING-ROOM AT GILLING CASTLE, YORKSHIRE
Happy should we be if we could give similar credit to those architects and craftsmen whose work was the best of its period but whose identities are unknown. They provided sources of pleasure and instruction, not only by the results of their skill but by inspiring artists of later generations to interpret their ideals and popularise their creations. Architects of modern times and students of all descriptions have searched in vain for information which would reveal the authorship of certain executed designs. Even when a clue has been obtained it has led to nothing definite, and the credit for much of the greatest building work is given to the client who paid for it, a thing not unknown in modern times. We are told that “Nonsuch” was built by King Henry VIII, Hampton Court by Cardinal Wolsey, and other venerable places were due, apparently, to the architectural genius of earls, knights, esquires, and other people. Perhaps these patrons did exercise considerable influence in the erection of the houses in which they intended to live, and in some cases it is likely that they superintended the work of quarrying the stone, felling the timber, and obtaining other materials. The anonymity of the real architect, as we should call him, was preserved, and, as in the case of the Gothic cathedrals, attributed to one or another bishop, we must be content to admire the work without knowing for certain to whom should be given the credit. The master builders and carpenters of the day succeeded as admirably in disguising their names as in doing their work, and it was not until the middle of the sixteenth century that the veil of obscurity was lifted.
When in 1563 John Shute published his “First and Chief Groundes of Architecture” he described himself as “Paynter and Archytecte,” but little is known of him in either capacity and his fame rests mainly on the publication of this excellent book on the Orders. Stephen Harrison, the designer of some fine triumphal arches for erection in London in 1603, “in honor of the High and mighty prince James, King of England,” described himself as “Joyner and Architect.” The latter word was evidently coming into use in England as a supplementary qualification. In June 1566 Queen Elizabeth laid the foundation-stone of the first Royal Exchange in London, known as “Britain’s Burse,” and the name of the architect employed by Sir Thomas Gresham was one Henry de Pas or Paschen, a native of Antwerp. It was not until 1570 that an English architect transmitted his name to posterity as the author of a notable example of domestic architecture. In the Soane Museum there is a plan of Kirby Hall ([Plate XIV]) on which John Thorpe wrote the words “Whereof I layd the first stone 1570”; and though Thorpe’s career and attainments have been the subject of acute discussion, he may be regarded as one of the first to emerge from obscurity. Afterwards came the Smithsons, father and son, Inigo Jones, Webb, Wren, and a succession of well-known architects. In addition to the names or architects arising from the depths of history there are other reminders of identity. On the exterior of Moreton Old Hall ([Plate XXIII])is an inscription referring to William Moreton, MDLIX, and one, “Rycharde Dale, Carpeder, made thies windous by the Grac of God.” On the building known some years ago as “Nantwich Old Town Hall” ([Plate XLIV]) were the words “Richard Dale, Free-Mason, was the master carpenter in makinge this buyldinge, Anno Domini 1611”; and in the Victoria and Albert Museum is a beam of carved elm dated 1638 with the words, “I was set upp right and even per John Sommersett.” Such examples only whet our appetite for still earlier records of native workers. They existed in great numbers in spite of the fact that England in the sixteenth century was the home of many Italian artists who influenced the work of the day. Torrigiano arrived about 1510, and he found ample patronage, like many of his fellow-countrymen.
While it would be very instructive to know the names of those who designed and executed the Tudor buildings, it is doubtful if the facts ever will be established, and we must be content to admire without knowing to whom the credit should be given. Our appreciation is sincere, and we find unlimited interest in the remains of another industrial age. The question of authorship, however, though giving us opportunity for attribution, is not so important as the value of the buildings themselves. The problems of design and construction, the new planning, the means of decoration and equipment, such were the things which occupied the attention of our ancestors and which may now be traced and compared with subsequent architectural achievements. In Tudor times a domestic revolution was in progress. The accessories of life, possessed, if not enjoyed, by those who had gone before, were being thoroughly overhauled and were often condemned in the light of altered conditions. The barrack life of feudal and mediæval times had been changed gradually and the accommodation had become more private. Residential possibilities began to be conceived. Comforts suggested themselves and were adopted in the new houses which arose all over the country. Building became a passion with the wealthy, and with the demand for ideas there arose a supply of men desirous of devoting their lives to the building and embellishment of houses, an ambition of which the fruits may still be enjoyed to some extent.
Subdivision was one of the guiding principles in the evolution of domestic architecture. Time was when the barest necessities in the way of architecture sufficed for the accommodation of the chieftains and their servants, armed or otherwise. The main requirement was solidity. Everyone then shared the fortified castles, which were surrounded in many cases by moats, and lived under the most primitive conditions. In those days apparently the only way to find solitude in a home was to get committed to the dungeons, and there were drawbacks to those retreats. Gradually more privacy was obtained by the lord and his family. The large and lofty hall, with dais and minstrel gallery, continued to dominate the plan and remained the most serviceable apartment, common to all; but smaller rooms began to be included in new buildings or additions were made to the old places. The castles, though remaining primarily as places of defence and protection from the weather, began to be used for occupation also, and new elements entered into their design and construction. The keep developed, and eventually the domestic requirements of the establishment displaced the other considerations.
When Henry VIII came to the throne, richer than most kings or England had been and with unlimited resourcefulness, the time had come for the development of the domestic buildings of the country in a way hitherto impossible. Throughout the reigns of the Tudor sovereigns there was continuous activity in this direction, as well as in other departments of the national life, and the evidence which remains proves what an upheaval of thought took place. Hitherto the most important, if not the main, attribute of a residence was its invulnerable character. The walls were as wide as many rooms at the present day, and this solid mass of stone or brick was pierced by apertures, varying in size but generally only large enough to admit light without providing an entrance for an enemy. At the foot of the building the holes were especially small. If the windows were glazed at all it was with horn as often as not, though glass was easily procurable. Fireplaces had been features of the interiors for many years before Tudor times, and they were often supplemented by open hearths in the middle of the large hall, the smoke escaping through a louvre in the roof. An example of this effective mode of warming is still to be seen at Penshurst.
The somewhat prison-like characteristics of these early buildings became obsolete through the advent of more peaceful occupations and by the invention of weapons against which stone and brick could not stand. The impetus given to more rational building gathered in force and, inspired by a monarch himself enterprising in such matters, the results were to be seen everywhere. The lands and properties which changed hands at the Suppression of the Monasteries brought wealth to many people, who immediately began to re-house themselves on a scale in keeping with their ample resources. In these buildings of Henry’s time there remained an inclination towards strength, and the small window openings only disappeared slowly. There was evidently a certain reluctance in giving up the appearance of a fortified dwelling-place, even though the building itself would be practically useless to defend the inmates against new means of attack. By the time of Elizabeth, however, this lingering aversion to the purely domestic building had vanished, and while the exteriors began to be more ornamental the interiors were arranged with increasing regard for comfort and convenience. The Hall remained as the chief feature of the ground floor, though by this time some families had abandoned the practice of taking their meals with their retainers. The Long Gallery came into existence as the principal room upstairs, being serviceable for recreation and entertainment. Its bay windows, when not too numerous, contributed to the internal and external interest of the building. Wide and majestic wooden staircases came into use and the spaciousness of the period was expressed admirably. Gardens, laid out with architectural forethought, began to form component parts of houses, and an air of opulence and peace pervaded the country, in spite of the fact that war-like preparations were in progress. The expansion of England was reflected in the architecture and decorations of the period, and under the influence of wealth, prosperity, and inclination new ideas were generated. The transition from mediæval life was complete. After the defeat of the Invincible Armada the work of building went on with undiminished force; and though the Palladian era was beginning, destroying the simplicity and charm of the earlier period, the houses of the time were far from being destitute of attraction and significance.
Tudor architecture appeals to us for many reasons, and not least because of its human associations. In the presence of such a building as Hampton Court we are reminded of various periods of architecture and different generations of notable people. The names occur to us of many royal personages who lived there. We think of Wren ending his days near to the structure with which he was so intimately associated. But it is the memory of Wolsey which takes the foremost place in our thoughts. Everyone knows the pretty story of the Cardinal’s diplomacy in presenting the building to the monarch who so much appreciated it before and after it came into his possession. Its history, however, began some years before that, and it is to the events of those early days that we are specially attracted. We imagine Cardinal Wolsey securing the position of Lord Chancellor and setting builders and craftsmen to work on a suitable abode with total disregard to cost. Arrangements had to be made in the scheme for a great household and for the hundreds of guests and their retainers who in due course went to the noble residence on the banks of the Upper Thames. Wolsey’s hospitality monopolised the services or an army of dependents and the planning of the place was tested severely. To understand the requirements of Hampton Court in those days we may turn to the life of Wolsey written by George Cavendish in the sixteenth century. There we may read of the historic entertainment provided for the ambassadors from France. The Cardinal called for the principal officers of his house, such as his steward, comptroller, and the clerks of his kitchen, ordering them to prepare the best banquet that