The use of terra-cotta has certainly been carried to an excess. It is now used as a building material, like stone or brick, instead of as mere “dressing” or ornament. Owing to its warping in the “baking” the jointing is bad and irregular, and cracks speedily show themselves. Even the decorative portions, garlands, boys, etc., seem never in the airy spirit of the material, and are too elaborate and “undercut.” Some years ago there was a fashion of profusely carving the brick, in situ, in rich and florid relief, for which the material is too frail and perishable.
It is pleasant, however, to find that a “brick style” is now being gradually evolved, much more suitably adapted to the material and its purposes. In the long terraces now rising on the numerous ruthless clearances are to be seen specimens treated after genuine delicate principles, that is, masses of surface, with bold, simple, and light projections, instead of the toy, or cardboard, surfaces hitherto in fashion. This new evolution is probably not intentional, and has worked itself out on fixed principles.
Indeed, a diligent pilgrim through London will discover many modern, pleasing houses of brick and terra-cotta, which, if somewhat bizarre, have striking merit of design. A remarkable group of this kind of edifice will be found at Courtfield Gardens, near Earl’s Court. These mansions are of original and even fantastic design, being built of a yellow terra-cotta, and running wild in richness of decoration and general treatment. The porches, doorways, windows are all irregular: the work is costly and beautiful; even the steps in front are inlaid with marbles and mosaics. The visitor is taken by surprise. It is pleasant to find that the beautiful type of Bruges houses, models of endurance and grace, has been “discovered” by our architects. So simple and yet so varied is this pattern that a large volume has been published, depicting all the most notable examples.
Charles Lamb complained of the gradual destruction of the antique fountains that were being abolished in his time; and in our day the lover of old London picturesqueness has to bewail the steady and certain destruction that is going on around him year by year. Old gateways, old churches, old houses, with, of course, their old doorways, are fast disappearing. The old doorways, of which there are very many in London, with their attendant lamps and railings, would not have held their place so long but for their fine, solid workmanship needing no repair. They add distinction and perhaps additional money value to the houses themselves.
In Grosvenor Street, where there are many fine old mansions, there are some effective doorways which exhibit the depths, lights and shadows, and the effective air of having a door’s duty to do; while the richness of the carving in the two little “girders” that support the mouldings are wonderfully pleasing. Here we find an unpretending but most effective doorway, at No. 50, quiet and pleasing, with a fanciful carving of a Lion’s head; No. 48 is also worthy of notice.
DOORWAY, 70, GROSVENOR STREET.
In the same street there is one charming house, No. 70, of rich, warm, tinted brick; and, though grimed enough, yet still with a dignity of its own. It boasts a graceful doorway, though it suffers from the window next to it being turned into a second door. Another porch in the same street, and worthy of a glance, from its unpretending yet effective grace, is that of No. 73, which is compact, small, yet deep, with a little carving, which is sufficient; even the lamps lend effect. In Old Burlington Street, at No. 30, is to be found a plain and simple doorway, very singularly effective and well proportioned. The great noblemen’s mansions in Grosvenor Square have all received ponderous portico decorations; but the little doors they shelter betray the original form of entrance. One of the most odious, and at the same time favourite, of these shapes is the conversion of the whole portico into a chamber or box, by which shift a sort of mean hall is gained, but there is no shelter.
In Henrietta Street, Cavendish Square, are to be found some doorways of distinct patterns, examples, also, of architectural merit. They are of stone, and treated as stone should be, with boldness and simplicity. There is a grace in the device—two sprays crossed, a bold head, the arrangement of the lines being in the Renaissance fashion. These meritorious bits of art are Nos. 11 and 12, the latter disfigured by being painted raspberry colour.