A Mogul Palace in the Cotswolds by Judith Allnatt

 

Sezincote is an unexpected exotic gem - a mogul palace and garden in the heart of the English countryside. It is unique in Western Europe and quite different from other houses of the period which draw largely on the Greek classical style. I recently visited this beautiful and remarkable place and was so taken with it and the mystery of how such a place came to be created that I decided to find out more about it.  The name, taken from the local village, originates from  'Cheisnecote', 'Chene' being French for 'oak'  so literally 'oak dwelling'. There are indeed  many oaks in the parkland around the house, creating a contrast between a traditional English landscape and the Indian mansion with its onion dome and minarets, and its unusual semi-circular orangery with peacock -tail windows.

In 1794, Charles Cockerell returned from India where he had lived for several years, involved in the East India Company, in banking and in assisting the civil service's military force in Bengal. Back in England, he became an MP.  He purchased Sezincote, which at the time was a traditional English manor, and together with his brother Samuel Pepys Cockerell, an architect named after their ancestor Samuel Pepys the diarist, began to plan a transformation. 

One theory offered is that the building was to be  unusual and splendid to attract attention and garner status. 'Nabobs' - conspicuously wealthy men who had amassed their wealth through the East India Company often returned to England wishing to wield influence and gain titles. There was a common fear at the time that they would use their power to corrupt Parliament. The suggestion has been made that this climate of disapproval might be the reason why, after building an ostentatiously Indian palace, plans for the interior of the house were reverted to a traditional classical style.

 However, looking at the timing of the construction this seems unlikely. Public disapproval of the poor administration of the East India company and its activities pre-dates the building of the house significantly. A satirical play called 'The Nabob' was performed as early as 1772 and the British Government in effect took control of the company after Pitt's India Act of 1784, introducing policies to reduce opportunities for corruption. As the house was not started until 1794, it seems that the Cockerell family would not have garnered favour by their choice and that they built it in the face of this difficult climate. 

A more likely explanation for their unusual choice is perhaps nostalgia for India. One wing of the house is known as 'the Tent room' because its interior was completely hung with fabric. It housed a four-poster bed and Charles Cockerell is said to have spent a lot of time there. One can imagine him waking to the stunning view over the parkland of the Estate. 

It's also interesting to note that although the architecture of the interior of the mansion is traditional, there are many Indian touches such as Lotus flowers painted on the ceiling above the stairs and chairs inlaid with intricate decoration in mother-of-pearl and, originally, rubies. The sheer scope and beauty of the project at Sezincote suggests that the motivation was a visionary imagination at work. 

Charles Cockerell met the artist Thomas Daniell in Calcutta. He had travelled in India making paintings of Indian architecture and gardens which assisted Samuel Pepys Cockerell in modelling  Sezincote on this style. The garden, designed with the help of Humphrey Repton,  drew also on spiritual influences. In India springs are sacred and the Sezincote garden design marks the water source with a  pool from which the stream flows through the garden, as a symbol of spiritual energy. Above the pool is a temple to Surya, the Hindu Sun god, positioned so that the sun sets behind it. 

At the summer solstice, the rays of the setting sun fall on a stone bench beneath the Indian bridge across the river, which is set between columns and stepping stones over the water giving the effect of a cool, shady pavilion. The bench is marked on the plans as 'the Philosopher's Seat' - an ideal spot for meditative contemplation. 

The Indian bridge has statues of holy Brahmin bulls. Daniell designed it with one bull facing the visitor as they approached Sezincote  but Charles Cockerell adapted the design to have two bulls facing each other in order to frame the view from the bridge. 

In 1807 Sezincote was visited by the Prince Regent, the mansion supplying inspiration for the Brighton Pavilion. It remains a place of architectural significance and later owners have added features in keeping with the Cockerell's vision and the spirit of the place. In 1943 Lord and Lady Kleinwort bought the estate , which was in poor repair after two world wars. The copper onion dome, which was  originally painted to appear like white marble had had the paint removed in World War Two to make it less obvious to aircraft and was  now verdigris. The roof was leaking and the gardens overgrown. As part of the renovation they  created a  formal garden inspired by the Taj Mahal with rectangular lily ponds and  Cyprus trees.  They built an  octagonal fountain representing eternity, superimposed on a stone square representing humanity, a fitting addition to maintain the unique aura of this fascinating and tranquil place.

Cabinet of Curiosities by Charlotte Wightwick: The Aristodekos Kouros and Mary Beard's sparkly trainers

I owe one of my A-levels to a naked man with pubic hair shaped into a star. Or at least, to a statue with said unusually-groomed privates.

I mention this in part because (even more than 20 years on) I find it both unlikely and entertaining, but partly because a couple of weeks ago I was lucky enough to hear Natalie Haynes and Mary Beard speak about the value of the classics (among many other things) at Damien Barr’s Literary Salon. You can listen to their brilliant interviews via the podcast versions here - https://www.theliterarysalon.co.uk/

Given that I studied ancient & modern history at university and classical civilisation for A-level, this evening was completely up my street – two intelligent, articulate, funny women talking ancient history, culture and books – and yes, Mary Beard’s sparkly trainers were defiantly on show.

Mary Beard's sparkly trainers

(Sorry for the rubbish photo quality! Source, as you might expect, is me)

Now, assuming you’re reading a history blog because you, umm, like history, I probably don’t need to point out ‘the value of the classics’ or ‘the value of history’ to you.

But that evening make me think about my classics A-level. Even at the time I thought it was brilliant, and not only because as a group of 17-year-old girls we got to study statues of naked men for a whole term. It was great because it provided us with a real grounding in a range of areas important to understanding the culture of the Greek world. It wasn’t just about one thing, as our other school subjects tended to be, but roved across a variety of disciplines and ways of looking at things. The naked men were only one element of an introduction to ancient Greek art and architecture; we studied a number of different types of literature (Homer, classical tragedies and comedies, some shorter poetry) and a fair amount of political, social and economic history as well; some archaeology and even a bit of geography while we were at it.

I really enjoyed that rounded experience of learning about a place and time in a variety of different ways. It’s a perspective and way of thinking that I’ve taken with me when looking at other societies, whether studying them for academic reasons, for my more recent forays into historical fiction and when visiting places in real life.

And the naked man? Well, he of the unusual pubes is known as the Aristodekos Kouros, and one of my A-level questions genuinely was a photo of him which I had to identify and discuss. He was easy to spot, for obvious reasons. And even now, should you ever need a Greek male nude dated, I can usually get to within a decade or so.

I’ll leave you to decide which is the more useful useful life skill. But I’d definitely like to have the statue as the centrepiece of my Cabinet of Curiosities!

The Aristodekos Kouros 

Source: Wikimedia Commons

A Day Trip to Bath by Katherine Webb

I was recently blindsided somewhat by a journalist who'd come over to the UK from Germany to interview me, I thought, about my latest release over there. It turned out that she was after a travel piece on Bath instead, and after floundering for a moment when she asked me to close me eyes and tell her 'What is Bath?', I was able to talk at length about this wonderful historic city, so full of its own character (and, my sister would remark, also full of itself).

I live about eight miles outside of Bath, in the countryside, but proximity to Bath was definitely a pull factor when moving to the area. And, within weeks of moving down here, I'd started a novel set in Bath in 1820 (The Misbegotten). I couldn't seem to help it - the atmosphere of all things Georgian and Regency was too powerful! So this month I thought I'd blog about Bath and some of its famous faces, and recommend it to anybody wanting a day trip this summer to a place that wears its history on its sleeve.

Well, I kind of have to start with this lady. Although Jane Austen only lived in Bath for a few years, she remains firmly associated with the place. Bath features as the setting of 'Persuasion', and gets a mention in other Austen books as well, and there's a Jane Austen museum and festival for fans here. It's just as interesting to visit The Assembly Rooms, however, at which Austen is known to have attended functions. Designed in 1769 by John Wood the Younger, the Assembly Rooms are now owned by the National Trust and you can go and have a wander around the grand tearoom, the octagon room where the men would have played cards, and the ballroom with its fantastic chandeliers - now electric, but in Austen's day holding hundreds of candles. The heat rising from all the thronging, dancing bodies below was often so great that the candles melted, and dribbled hot wax onto the party-goers. http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/bath-assembly-rooms

John Wood the Younger (1728-1782), and his father John Wood the Elder (1704-1754), were the architects who had the most influence on the building of Bath in the Georgian era. Between them the pair designed the most iconic of Bath's seven elegant crescents - The Royal Crescent - as well as The Circus, Queen Square, Gay Street, The Royal Mineral Water Hospital and Prior Park, private residence of Ralph Allen, about whom more shortly, and much more. The Woods' designs pioneered Bath's neo-classical, Palladian grandeur, still so much in evidence today. When it was built in 1775, The Royal Crescent was on the edge of the city, with no other buildings in front of it to spoil the view for the residents. The same cannot be said today, but I can report that Barton Fields, as shown above, have indeed never been built on.

The newly completed Circus in the late 1700s

Another person strongly linked to Bath's Georgian soul is Richard 'Beau' Nash (1674-1761), Master of Ceremonies from 1704 onwards. This was an unofficial title, but it put Beau Nash into a position of tremendous social influence, and helped make Bath the height of fashion in its heyday in the early 1700s. An early career in the army and then as a barrister clearly didn't suit the fun-loving Beau Nash, who had a gambling problem and lived with a string of mistresses. As MC of Bath, he would meet new arrivals, decide who was 'in' and who was not, broker marriages, arrange balls, keep a check on the worst gamblers, and accompany lone women to dances. He is also credited with encouraging a break down in the strict social boundaries between the upper and middle classes in Bath, although this might have backfired on him slightly as Bath fell out of fashion towards the end of the century, came to be seen as vulgar and old hat, the haunt of spinsters and invalids, and to be passed over by fashionistas in favour of Lyme Regis and other seaside resorts.

One more Georgian notable for you: Ralph Allen (1693-1764). Allen started out as a clerk in the Post Office at a young age, and by the age of 19, in 1712, became the postmaster of Bath. With a series of reforms and innovations, he increased the office's profits and reach to such an extent that he became a wealthy man. He bought up stone quarries in the local area, recognising the growing demand for the honey-coloured Bath stone in bringing the Woods' designs to life, and thus became a very wealthy man indeed. On a hill to the south east of Bath sits the Sham Castle, an elaborate folly built to give Allen something to look at from his townhouse in the city.

In 1742, Ralph Allen hired John Wood the Younger to build Prior Park, a Palladian mansion to the south of Bath, which he later moved in to. It is in a truly wonderful setting, with long reaching views of the city and a quintessential C18th garden, designed with the help of Capability Brown, which has one of only four Palladian bridges of its kind in the world. The house itself now houses a school, but the National Trust has the gardens, and they're lovely to visit. http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/prior-park-landscape-garden

The bridge has lots of interesting old graffiti, if you like that kind of thing (which I do) - showing that whilst standards of handwriting have declined over the years, standards of behaviour are much the same as they ever were!

There are so many Georgian wonders in Bath - don't miss the Florentine Pulteney Bridge, either, completed in 1774. Palladian again, this time designed by Robert Adam, the bridge has shops on along either side of its span across the River Avon - but its history goes back a lot further than that. The reason anybody came here in the first place was for the hot water springs, first settled by the Romans who named the city Aquae Sulis - meaning the waters of Sulis. Sulis was the native British goddess to whom the locals had built a shrine on the site. Britain's only hot water thermal springs, the waters were soon enclosed within a huge Roman bath and temple complex, now wonderfully excavated and fascinating to visit (incidentally, you can bathe in the hot spring water yourself, at nearby Thermae Spa - the rooftop pool has wonderful views of the city. You can drink it too, just like a Georgian invalid, in the Roman Baths visitor centre, although I don't think there's much to be gained by it - very eggy.).

The Roman Bath complex

Thanks to Georgian fashion and bombing in WWII, the medieval city of Bath is harder to spot. The Abbey, now in a late C15th form, sits on top of two older churches, and is very beautiful inside - fan vaulting galore. Sally Lunn's Historic Eating House is most famous for being the only place to get a Bath Bun - like a brioche, and very tasty - but for me the real treat in going there is to go down into the basement museum, which recreates kitchens of the past, and where you can see open excavations going down through the centuries, proving that there has been a house on that spot for over a thousand years. The medieval city walls and gates have sadly gone, but many houses in the area to the south of and immediately around the abbey are in fact medieval buildings, hunkered down behind tacked-on Georgian fronts.

I've got this far and not mentioned the Kennet and Avon canal, or Sydney Gardens, or William Herschel, or the Pump Rooms, or any one of a hundred other historical things to see in Bath. It is truly a unique city with a remarkable history, and an absolute must-see for anybody interested in our Roman or Georgian history.

The Importance of Remembering by Lucy Inglis

Last week a friend flew in from Charleston. He wanted to spend a couple of days sightseeing in the City of London before he spent the weekend with friends, so we decided to take in St Paul’s Cathedral and the Tower of London. 

I started working in the City of London almost fifteen years ago and I’ve lived here for seven. It is, as people often observe, a very lovely but peculiar place to live. It doesn’t have the obvious appeal of somewhere like Paris, Rome or Venice. There are no green spaces, people hurry everywhere all the time. It’s either too crowded, or deserted. There are too many offices and Tesco Metros, but it does have a thick crust of time that clings to almost everything. Even the new buildings are tinged with it, like a creeping moss. In the fuss and inconvenience of the Olympics, the endless construction work, I had forgotten, but it only took a few hours to rediscover.

We went first to St Paul’s cathedral, where my guest was somewhat shocked to see a service starting as tourists walked around, chatted and took photographs, although, he reasoned, in a place the size of St Paul’s what else could you do? We looked at everything, and climbed to the Stone Gallery for the incredible view of the City below (not the Golden - vertigo beat us). In the crypt we visited the tombs of Nelson, Wellington, Turner, and of course, Wren as we discussed burial rituals in Georgian London and in the American South, as well as the most macabre tombs we’d seen. He won by some margin after regaling me with the image of the rotting corpse carved in stone he’d seen in New Orleans.

Then it was to the Museum of London, via the medieval and Roman London Wall. I had forgotten it was there. Seeing it on the street was almost a surprise. The grey squirrel sitting on the top of it seemed equally unimpressed, looking at us as if to say ‘What do you want?’ Around every corner we seemed to find something else. At the Museum we saw London from prehistory to the modern in what was literally a whizz around before we went over to the Guildhall to look at the Roman amphitheatre. I feared I had history’d out my companion, already weary from his flight. But no, back he came for more the following day.

At the Tower of London we sat by the river, had a cup of coffee looking at Tower Bridge, and marshalled our resources. There is, after all, far too much to see on one visit. We debated the Princes in the Tower, the recycling of crown jewellery, and how long it would take to carve a shield and motto into the stone wall of your cell. All the ravens were annoyingly camera shy. How and why did Walter Raleigh ultimately get it so wrong? For my friend, visiting the church where Thomas More is buried was an unexpectedly moving moment. 

At Tower Hill, we said goodbye. I had decided to walk back, past the end of the street where Samuel Pepys lived, past the Monument to the Great Fire of London, the Bank of England, the Mansion House and streets with names such as Huggin Lane and Old Fish Street Hill. All these things I had forgotten were there in my rush for a pint of milk and the often elusive dog food. 

The photos in this post are not of the big things but of all the little things we saw, neglected corners of the City. A memorial tablet bedded into a wall where a churchyard once stood, the chapel on Aldersgate, and the interior of St Stephen Walbrook. Rediscovering all the good things about where I live turned sightseeing with a friend into something really memorable. Now I have to be sure not to forget again!