Kent’s versatility is evidenced at Holkham in the furniture, most of which was designed by him. It is characterised by a solidity and massiveness, both of construction and decoration, in striking contrast to the attenuated elegance of his successors.
Kent died in 1748, long before the house was finished; the Earl of Leicester died in 1759, still leaving much to be completed. The manner of his death brings home to us the changes which have taken place in habits and customs even more vividly than does his house. Lord Leicester had spoken slightingly of the militia at his own table, a topic of general comment at the time; his remarks were taken ill by George Townshend, his neighbour at Rainham, who challenged him to a duel. Townshend was young and a practised duellist; Lord Leicester was a staid gentleman of sixty-five. The result was a foregone conclusion, and the older man died of his wound.[76]
Lady Leicester carried on the works at Holkham with the help of Matthew Brettingham, of Norwich, who had been a pupil of Kent’s and had acted as his assistant and clerk of the works. After the work was ended he published the plans and elevations of the house in a book dedicated to Lady Leicester, and claimed the whole credit of the design. But it belongs in reality to Kent, and Holkham is an interesting example of the work of one man, alike as to the house, its decoration and its furniture.[77]
Fig. 191.—Kedleston, Derbyshire, 1761. Plan of the Principal Floor.
Although Holkham is his most notable achievement—unless we except the Horse Guards, which has some resemblance to it in general treatment (Fig. [190])—Kent was fully employed during his thirty years of active work. He designed many houses and many gardens. One of the most pleasing of the buildings at Stowe, the Temple of Ancient Virtues, was his. His help was obtained in directions other than architecture, and Walpole tells us that he designed birthday gowns for two ladies, to which he gave a decidedly architectural turn. He must have spent much time in producing “The Designs of Inigo Jones,” and it is not improbable that he was the power behind the throne in respect of the architectural efforts of Lord Burlington.
Fig. 192.—KEDLESTON HALL, Derbyshire. The Hall.
Brettingham had a certain connection with Kedleston, as he seems to have designed and built one of the wings. He was succeeded by James Paine, to whom the general design is attributed, which followed the lines started by Brettingham. The house was to have had four outlying wings, much after the fashion of Holkham, but only two were carried out. The original plan looks very striking on paper (Fig. [191]), but it is one further proof of the way in which comfort was sacrificed to grandeur by the architects of that time. All the principal rooms are noble, those, that is, which were to be used on grand occasions; the others are quite subordinate. The basement, which contains rooms in daily use, seems overweighted by the superstructure, and is in fact too low to allow the light to penetrate freely to the remoter parts of the entrance. The bedrooms were, in the opinion of Dr. Johnson, who visited the house with Boswell in September 1777, “but indifferent rooms.” The hall is a lordly apartment with a row of lofty columns down each side (Fig. [192]). Some of the columns are monoliths, and one is of alabaster from the locality. Dr. Johnson thought the house “would do excellently for a town-hall; the large room with the pillars would do for the judges to sit in at the assizes; the circular room for a jury-chamber; and the room above for prisoners.” It is quite true that many of these large houses produce an impression similar to that created by public buildings.
The situation of the house is in keeping with the ideas prevalent at the time. It is not, as of old, the centre of a formally disposed lay out, with vistas stretching away from its principal windows. It stands, indeed, askew with all points of view, on a slope of the park, backed by a long range of trees which crowns the summit of the hill; behind another group of trees lie the stables, connected to the house by a sunk way. A contemporary bridge in the park, over which the approach is carried, lies in haphazard relation to the house. But this was all part of the design, which aimed not at any formal lay out, but at a result which should convey the impression that everything was unstudied, and that skill was bestowed not in making an effect, but merely in seizing on the effects supplied by nature and using them to the best advantage.