Occasionally the treads and risers were themselves ornamented, the treads being inlaid with various patterns, and the risers being panelled. There is a fine example of this treatment at the Hall at Glastonbury in Somerset,[5] of the date of 1726 (Fig. 213). The inlay is of mahogany and a light wood let into the oak of the treads. The first quarter-landing contains a panel with a monogram and date. It is obvious that no carpets were contemplated for such staircases as these. The newels and balusters in this instance are slightly carved as well as turned; and the bracket at the end of each step is also carved, thus helping considerably towards the general richness of effect.
Later in the eighteenth century skill in the construction of staircases developed still further. It seems a comparatively simple matter to build one in short straight flights with a stout string to carry the steps at either end of them. It is rather less simple to cut away the outer string so as to let the ends of the steps project as in Figs. 212 and 213; the difficulty, however, is minimised by keeping the flights straight. But it required greater skill, both in setting out and in construction, to depart from straight flights altogether, and to contrive a staircase in one continuous elliptical sweep from floor to floor. One of the earliest examples of this method of design, of about 1700, is at Drayton House in Northamptonshire, but it became quite fashionable in the middle of the eighteenth century, and many specimens still survive in large houses in the Bloomsbury district of London, some in stone and some in wood.
213. Staircase at the Hall, Glastonbury, Somerset (1726).
The dated inlaid panel is seen in the plan in the centre of the square landing at the top of the first flight.
214. Staircase in Baddow House, Essex.
The changes that took place in the length of the flights of staircases are not without interest. In mediæval times, when staircases were of the corkscrew type, landings were sparsely provided, and in the nature of things they were small at the best—anything large would not only have interrupted the continuous spiral of ascent, but would have interfered with the already scanty headroom. With the introduction of the wood staircases of the late sixteenth century, a complete change took place. They were made of ample width, and in straight, short flights, seldom of more than six or eight steps; then came a quarter-landing, then another flight at right angles. These short flights remained in fashion nearly down to the eighteenth century. Occasionally winders had been employed, but not in the finest examples. With the eighteenth century the flights increased in length, containing twelve, sixteen, or even more steps: winders were more frequently used. Finally came the elliptical staircase, sweeping from floor to floor in one flight without any landings, and consisting wholly of winders, although as the radius of the sweep was longer, they none of them were narrowed to an actual point. The general effect, which is not altogether happy, may be gathered from Fig. 214. The balustrade here is of iron, rather meagre in design, as such things had now become; the early years of the century had produced some excellent specimens of iron stair-balustrades; but they were not of frequent occurrence, the usual material being wood.
By the end of the eighteenth century the ordinary methods of house design had become almost devoid of interest; the story of the growth of the English house must therefore perforce end on a low note. The stream of development had been fairly continuous up to then, thenceforward it was to be diffused in various channels, all of which derived their character from the past. The Italian Renaissance had been the main source of inspiration, but soon the buildings of Greece were to furnish ideas. After them came the Gothic revival; the battle of the styles; the eclecticism of the nineteenth century; the negation of all style adopted by the speculative builder, only one degree better than his vulgarisation of all styles as he became aware of their existence. From this Slough of Despond we seem now to be happily emerging, and we shall do so the more certainly in proportion as we add to knowledge, thought, and common-sense.