Brideshead Revived: The Fall & Rise of Great Country Estates
By Max Birkin for House of Henley
The English Country House is world famous; the greatest homes across the country are visited by millions of tourists a year, and the common joke amongst those of us who live in the UK is that Americans must believe we all live in a Blenheim Palace of our own. Despite being well aware that these great monuments to countryside hierarchy have had their day, the fascination with grand country homes does also lie within us natives too - Downton Abbey was hugely popular when it first aired, and great numbers of us spend our weekends walking around National Trust properties or eyeing up period manors on Rightmove. Modern literature also has a curious fixation on the country-house – Atonement, of course, but also the eponymous Howard’s End and Brideshead Revisited. Interior design magazines whip themselves into a frenzy over the perfect country-house kitchen or the perfect country-house garden, whilst the UK countryside is now littered with country-house hotels in which to spend a country-house weekend. We are obsessed . However, whilst our perception of the country-house may lay deep in the past, since the 1990s it has been making a steady comeback.
The fall
Of course, the country house as the Americans know it is largely gone. Very few of the great and good of English society maintain ownership of their ancestral homes, and these beautiful but impractical manors, castles and estates have been sold to developers, turned into schools, or been converted into flats. Many of the grandest homes were pulled down from the 1930s onwards; two World Wars, a Labour government keen on taxes and a decline in rural economic activity meant the upkeep of these estates was simply impossible. The following twenty-year period before the arrival of a brave new political world of social concern is fondly known as ‘The Long Weekend’, a melancholy title for the dying days of both the English country house and the leisured way of life that it supported. Their absence has changed the social fabric of our country enormously, as well as altering the landscape itself. The inimitably waspish Nancy Mitford suggested that the reason cedar trees were falling across the UK was because “tea under the cedars, that daily sacrifice to them […] when footmen in striped waistcoats placed trays of glittering silver beneath their shade […], has become a thing of the past [and] they are sulkily dying of boredom”. Facetious, yes, but a fitting tribute to the way of life we all admire when we binge whatever new period drama the BBC has provided for us. To counter the loss of tea under the cedars and to preserve our country’s architectural heritage, The National Land Fund was formed in 1946 to step in and save many historically important homes from the wrecking ball. The main beneficiary of the fund was the National Trust, already a caretaker for many a stately home. Despite its fuddy-duddy image today, we do owe the organisation a great debt for its efforts to preserve a way of countryside life that might otherwise have been lost.
Our lasting love affair
We do have a tendency to look back at the role of country houses and the function of large estates in a rosy light. We have Julian Fellowes to blame for giving us the impression that the social division inherent in a country-house was actually all very jolly, whilst his most infamous creation, Downton Abbey, has left us with the quaint idea that all it takes to afford the running of a substantial seat is opening the dining room to the public twice a month. There are still some families inhabiting the same large country house as their ancestors, however, and making a success of it. The editor of Country Life magazine recently published Old Homes, New Life, in which owners of some of Britain’s grandest homes (like the Duke and Duchess of Argyll at Invernay Castle, or the Hopetouns at Hopetoun House) explain how they have hung on to their Stubbs by coming up with innovative ways to make their country homes earn their keep. In fact, the allure of the country-house has only grown and grown in recent years, with the newly wealthy snapping up crumbling piles sold off by the old guard. A 1999 article in The Guardian attributed the tentative increase in demand for large period properties to buyers with City or internet-based fortunes. As Blur so neatly put it in their song Country House, “City dweller, successful fella, thought to himself / Oops I’ve got a lot of money” before buying “a very big house in the country”. Those who had made great successes of themselves did the same thing as the first Duke of Marlborough and announced their fortune with the purchase of an enormous house.
The newly rekindled desire for country houses is also seen in the insatiable appetite for extremely expensive mock-Georgian homes that seem to be springing up at alarming rates on every half-decent residential street in Surrey. It is evident that the architects and residents of these homes are aiming to reproduce the elegant and visually appealing design tropes of yore, but these are often poor imitations of the great country houses; combining brick Queen Anne facades, pilastered entrances and visible service wings (as well as triple garages) creates an unsightly mess. The popularity of these mini-mansions is, however, indicative of the ever-increasing desire for a country-house style of home, for a house that makes a both an impression on a visitor and a claim to posterity – a stamp upon the land.
The revival
However, for every new-build, there is a country house that has been sensitively updated and adapted to modern life. There has been an uptick in wealthy individuals taking on whole farms and estates, restoring grand houses and emulating a way of life not seen since Michelle Dockery jumped ditches whilst riding side-saddle. The most high profile of these currently is Jeremy Clarkson, who has (perhaps surprisingly) bought an Oxfordshire farm which he is in the process of rewilding and replanting. He has also begun work on a replacement farmhouse which will be built in the style of a Georgian manor, constructed from sandstone and complete with that most important of country-house essentials – a boot room. James Dyson, who lives in the magnificent Dodington Park House (which has enough columns to make even an oligarch blush), has also been hoovering up land to rewild – his acreage now stands at 33,000. Sting and Trudie Styler have long-owned an impressive 16th century manor in Wiltshire, which has been preserved so well that Henry VIII might feel quite at home – excepting the welcoming kitchen-diner created by combining the pantry and scullery with the Tudor kitchen. Joining the roll call of ‘slebs buying up country-homes are Superdry founder Julian Dunkerton and Blur guitarist Alex James (who clearly took his own advice). This demand doesn’t show signs of slowing – just recently a neo-Georgian home in a small Surrey village reportedly sold for close to £30,000,000 – and Coronavirus has made the idea of socially distancing on one’s own country estate even more attractive. Owning an estate is a useful social hack in today’s brave new world, too – hunting, shooting and polo aren’t bound by the ‘Rule of Six’, so you and twenty-nine mates can take full advantage of the benefits of country-house living. Once again, Blur puts it best: for “a new start, try the simple life / a very big house in the country”.
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