This year is a celebration of the 300 years since English landscaper Capability Brown's birth. He is often decried as a wrecker of gardens by some purists, as he was known for obliterating the elaborate knot gardens and parterres favoured in the period immediately before him and replacing them with cleverly constructed naturalistic landscapes of parkland, trees, lakes and vistas. He was also quite prolific, designing over 250 gardens in his lifetime. The fact that many of his designs survive completely intact is perhaps due to two things: large areas are left to do their own thing in the parkland style (no tedious pruning and fussy flower planting to maintain), and that his planting schemes relied on long lived trees for their Architectural structure - there is no loss of small plants gradually over a few decades to obliterate the entirety of the design.
But perhaps the best way of to take a snapshot of a moment in time in a garden is by recording it with a garden map. Anyone having a plan done for their garden today is familiar with receiving a full planting scheme on plan laid out appropriately scaled from their landscape designer. While these are purely utilitarian, they are a beginning record of a gardens planting, and the subsequent evolution thereafter. However, not all gardens were started this way, and many have no plan to refer back to.
Map by Catherine O'Neill
The original Garden owners travelled extensively around the world hunting down exotic plants, bringing seeds and cuttings back from Asia, Europe, and America, as well as swapping plant seed and cuttings with other keen Garden owners at that time across Australia. Of course, if you're DIYing your garden, you don't necessarily make a map of where you're planting things - rather you most likely walk around and just set things out where you'd like them to be. For this reason there has never been a completely accurate map of the garden, and certainly no proper inventory of the trees (there are in excess of 1000 of them). The question of where to stop in terms of detail was something we had lengthy discussions about as Catherine commenced the project.
The starting point was, fortunately, an accurately surveyed map (above) with the Victorian- era circuitous paths and drives laid out on it that my Father already had. From there, satellite maps that provided further detail of canopy spread were helpful, but much of the work Catherine has done has involved mapping each garden bed, laboriously numbering each tree and larger scale understory plant, and setting them all out on her larger garden plan. My Father has spent a lot of time over the past 10 years identifying each un-labelled tree (with some help from the Adelaide and Mt Lofty Botanic Gardens, visiting Botanists and Garden History experts, and Catherine herself), and has in the process discovered plants that originate in Nepal, Mongolia, China, and very unusual Cypress not thought to be grown elsewhere in Australia. It's been quite a fascinating process.
Unfortunately, the map is not yet finished (likely early next year), so you can see it's really been quite a process. I'm not able to post the end result in this blog post... however I thought I'd post the video Catherine has on her website showing the process of the making of one of her beautiful watercolour maps.
Late last year, Country Style magazine wrote an article about this particular garden, Glenmore (image below), so you can see how she not only accurately captures the plant locations and types, but also the overall feel of the garden, something that is not so easily conveyed in a modern, purely functional style of plan.
Glenmore, via Country Style magazine
Three Copper Beech, planted to celebrate the birth of the three grand-children of the original garden owner
Martindale Hall, pictured above, is considered one of the Architectural jewels of South Australia, located near the town of Mintaro in the Clare Valley, approximately 2 hours from Adelaide. Built for the pastoralist Edmund Bowman in 1879 at great cost, it was the central property of a wool empire that stretched across South Australia. Apparently built to entice a girl he wanted to marry to leave her English family house (supposedly it was a replica), she refused to leave England for the colonies and he eventually married another, settling into his 32 room estate with attendant polo ground, cricket field and extensive stables. Just 20 years later however, a long drought and a drop in wool prices saw his empire fall, and the property was sold at a knock down price to the Mortlock family. They lived in it until the 1950's when it was bequeathed to the University of Adelaide, who in turn handed it over to the State Government of South Australia in 1986. For some years it has been open as a house museum, and up until recently was run as a historic style bed and breakfast with all the attendant comforts you'd expect from a Victorian era house with a lack of modern facilities.... Many readers both here in Australia and overseas will be familiar with the house, as it starred as the school Appleyard College in the hauntingly classic Australian movie "Picnic at Hanging Rock" released in 1976.
Picnic at Hanging Rock
The current operators of the Hall have enlisted the support of the Actress that played Miranda in the movie to entreat the government not to turn it over to developers and "take it away from the general public" pushing for it to be handed to the Trust. This has, of course, made headlines around the country. Naturally no one wants the greedy luxury hotel developers to take away public access! We are nothing if not egalitarian in Australia. But I have to admit to having mixed feelings about having the house handed over to the Trust. Perhaps, as abhorrent as it might first sound, a luxury hotel is actually a much better idea, on a number of levels.
Still from the movie Picnic at Hanging Rock
Miranda from Picnic at Hanging Rock
Secondly, we have a number of properties already being run by the National Trust around Adelaide and they highlight some of the problems associated with the House- as- Museum concept. If you visit a stately home in the UK, the ones that give the best experiences to the visitor are the ones that still have the family living in them. The ones that are empty, and run purely as a House Museum by the UK branch of the National Trust can feel staid and lifeless, and sometimes be presented in a manner that is a little twee ("Ye Olde Worlde"). Families and people give a house life. It is the layering of changes of fashion, of the quirks of lives lived within it that make it interesting and that tell the narrative of why the house was created and how that relates to us and to the wider world.
Here in Australia our National Trust properties are all long vacant of the families that once lived in these grand houses. I have visited Beaumont House, Ayres House, Carrick Hill and Urrbrae House here in Adelaide, and various properties in Melbourne such as Como House and Ripponlea, and they are slightly dispiriting with an overlay of the Institutional feel to them. Guides are occasionally dressed in fake period costume, partially furnished rooms are set in aspic from a time period determined as 'correct' (but not necessarily the furniture or furnishings that were in that room at that time - they are recreations) can leave me a little cold. The richness that you get from visiting a living, breathing house is not there.
This is an issue that is currently being debated at great length in the UK (see the past few issues of Country Life magazine if you are interested, and I noticed that Ben Pentreath, whose blog is on my side bar also waded into the fray on this topic on his blog a few weeks back). We haven't had a discussion in Australia as to whether these types of experiences are the best use of these properties, because generally we look at our history with a blindly protectionist viewpoint - we have so little of this kind of built Architecture, and what we have is so recent when compared to other countries, that there is a universal favouritism of keeping the old and preserving it at all costs... even when that doesn't make it dynamic or as the best use of that facility.
So, back to Martindale Hall. Some of the things that have been overlooked in the debate are that this house has not had a family living in it for 70 years, which is half the age of the property, rendering it something of a white elephant. Most of the original contents from when it was first built were sold after the Bowmans left the property in a Mortgagee sale, with only a few pieces the Mortlocks purchased still remaining. The remaining furniture in the public viewing rooms are from that Mortlock period of the house's history. Other rooms are re-creations in a Victorian style. There is no reason why a hotel with a publicly accessible aspect to it couldn't co-mingle with the historic element. There is also no reason why this property has to be sold to be developed, rather than being kept by the government. It could be on long term lease, with stringent controls over maintenance, upkeep, approvals and public access. If this were the case, then I would hope a publicly called tender would go forward, and that the selected operator and developer would be the one that would provide the best long term solution for the property, not necessarily just the person that had an idea and approached the State Government first.
It's an unfashionable view to put forward. Long term blog readers will know I have a love of History and Architectural History in particular, and I do support the important work of the National Trust. But we do need to question whether these Historic House Museums are a success. Ayers House, a large mansion that is in the centre of the Adelaide CBD is essentially a Wedding venue and House Museum... how many of these types of venues do we need - all stuck circa 1880, all 'teaching' us the same things. Our built history is worth preserving, but we need to do so in a way that will breath life and relevancy to these properties. Sometimes development is not necessarily such a bad thing when it is done with sensitivity, and most importantly, done well.
bedroom by Nicky Haslam
Via Jean Monro
Chintz itself is any floral pattern on a white background, and by the 1800's these were glazed (initially with sugar, then with a chemical process which was used up until the 1980's when it was banned as being highly carcinogenic) to give a glossy sheen across the fabric. Many of the chintz patterns in production today stem from French documents, despite this being a quintessentially English style of decorating, but the past 15 years in decorating have not been kind - Fabric companies tend to discontinue unpopular fabrics, and as the fickle wheel of fashion turned venerable companies like Colefax and Fowler shed Chintz fabrics from their ranges, replacing them with more commercially popular alternatives. The printing of Chintz patterns onto cotton fabrics was also reduced, a softer finish on linen was preferred.
Quintessential English Country House decorating - Bowood by Colefax and Fowle
via Jean Monro
Ham Yard Hotel - the Library featuring Jean Monro Chintz
I thought I'd leave this short video from their website for your enjoyment - it's the process that a length of fabric will go through... all 18 metres of it with the hand blocking being done. One design, Lucy's Roses, has 180 blocks applied to produce the design per pattern repeat, all done by hand by a master craftsman/woman who has completed a trade apprenticeship that lasts 7 years. As it is done by hand, there is a subtle difference to the designs produced by different hand blockers. The process has never been adequately replicated by machine. Whether or not you're ready to embrace traditional Chintz in your interior, you can admire the craft and perhaps gain more of an appreciation for the work that goes into these beautiful, textured, painterly fabrics.
MASTER SHORT from Doublard Design on Vimeo.
From the Sotheby's Catalogue 1997
Sotheby's catalogues from 1997
The Duke's wardrobe, photograph from the Sotheby's Catalogue 1997
In a way, they were the Pop culture icons of their time (although the twice divorced Duchess was not exactly popular with the general public), celebrated for their fashionable lives.
At their country house, the Duke in full Tartan suit, from "The Windsor Style"
French antiques in Paris via "The Windsor Style"
Table setting with monogrammed glasses, Royal Copenhagen assembled china service circa 1880, English silver flatware circa 1932 with monogram, and Porthault 1950's appliqued place mats and napkins via Sotheby's Catalogue 1997
The mix of high/ low continued in many facets of their lives - the Duchess was very fond of costume jewellery (as well as her very expensive Cartier pieces) and helped to popularise it during the 1950's. All of her costume Jewels were given specially made leather cases with the monogram on them too. When worn with her couture clothing, Roger Vivier shoes, and monogrammed crocodile handbags the overall effect was stylish perfection. Monograms were on her handkerchiefs (made from the finest linen) and even the bust of her hand embroidered silk and lace nightgowns. You could say the diminishing of their Royal status led to an obsession with achieving it. The Duke was known to tell people that he was one of only 3 actual blood Royals alive - that Queen Elizabeth II was only half Royal as her mother was aristocratic, but not Royal herself.
The Duke's bedroom with royal ephemera including the Order of the Garter and his royal insignia from his time as King via Sotheby's Catalogue 1997. Next to his bed he kept his childhood nursery toys, which would be packed when he travelled by his Valet.
lined up and waiting...staff in full livery from "The Windsor Style"
airbrushing out the wrinkles including the "Frown that Cleaves her forehead ('as though she'd been hit by an axe' says Anne Slater)" her friend via "The Windsor Style"
So what is it about them that has meant that they are still talked about so many years later? In a way, they were the equivalent to today's reality TV stars. A dramatic family dispute and explosive scandal, and then the theatre of their life: vacuous, boring, lacking direction and industry and completely excessive - played out on a self publicised and perfectly managed stage set. The sale of their collection in 1997 has meant that they have achieved notoriety and fame through their legacy of the one thing that they devoted themselves to passionately: their appearances and their things.
The Windsor Style is definitely worth hunting down if you are interested in reading more about them - filled with all sorts of interesting tidbits on their life, their style, their influence on fashion and Interiors, and their collections. The talk I attended was an excellent overview of a strangely fascinating couple. Their contribution to society in a meaningful way never eventuated - they celebrated the surface, and perhaps, in always striving to be ahead of the times, they managed to be the icons and precursor to our modern scourge - the celebration of the individual, the celebration of style over substance.
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