Heritage

She must have loved him! And maybe herself too, just a bit?

Posted on by Platypus Man

Driving along the North Wales Expressway (A55) it is impossible to miss the Marble Church. The spire is 202 feet (62m) high, dominating the skyline of the little town of Bodelwyddan and the surrounding countryside. It’s a striking sight and also an impressive example of marital devotion, the church having been commissioned by a widow in memory of her beloved husband.

The Marble Church, Boddelwyddan
The spire is visible from miles around

In 1829 Margaret Williams, the daughter of a wealthy North Wales landowner, secured her perfect marriage. The man of her dreams was Henry Peyto, the sixteenth Baron Willoughby de Broke. As such she became Lady Margaret, and went off to England to live on Henry’s estate in Warwickshire for the next 23 years.

When he died in 1852, Lady Margaret evidently decided that she’d had enough of life in the English Midlands and elected to return to her ancestral Welsh estate. However, she was in no mood to forget Henry and petitioned the Bishop of Asaph to create a separate parish for the town Bodelwyddan, complete with its own parish church to serve as a memorial to her late husband.

Marble…
…and more marble

The Bishop readily agreed, no doubt aware that the financial generosity of Lady Margaret – supported by her brother Sir Hugh Williams – would enable the construction of a landmark building. And indeed, they paid a huge sum to deliver the project. Work began in 1856, and the church was finally consecrated in 1860. The total cost was around £60,000, equivalent to about £9.5m (USD 12.7m) in today’s money.

Constructed mainly from limestone quarried in North Wales, the church is notable for containing no fewer than 14 different types of marble, including pillars of Belgian red marble, flooring of Sicilian marble, and other features fashioned from French (Languedoc) marble, Griotte marble from France and Belgium, and Kilkenny black marble from Ireland. Although it was nicknamed the “Pearl of the Vale” immediately after its construction it is no surprise that the building soon became popularly known as the Marble Church.

The pulpit is elegantly carved
The font features Sir Hugh Williams’ daughters!

Other notable features of the Marble Church include a finely carved pulpit, an artistically styled font representing two girls (Sir Hugh Williams’ daughters!) holding a shell, and some fine stained glass windows. Plainly no expense was spared in the creation of Lady Margaret’s splendid memorial to her late husband.

But, when we visited the church a few weeks ago, I did find it odd that Henry is not the star of his own memorial. The font, as we have seen, features his brother-in-law’s daughters. And although there is a portrait of Lady Margaret in the entrance to the church, there is no mention at all of Henry on the foundation plaque above the porch, which reads –

This stone was laid, July the 24th, 1856, by Margaret Willoughby de Broke, who founded, erected and endowed this Church at her own expense in the devout hope that it might tend to the glory of God.

‘Mine House shall be called a House of prayer for all people.’ Isiah 56:7

And it’s worth noting that the Church is dedicated to Saint Margaret. I admit this could be pure coincidence, but really?

I have no doubt that Lady Margaret Willoughby de Broke loved her late husband dearly. But I suspect she loved herself just a bit too.

Wordless Wednesday – Tudor

Posted on by Platypus Man

Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message or tell a story, but speaks for itself without using words. Mrs P took this photo Gawsworth Hall in Cheshire, which dates from approximately 1480 to 1600, in 2014.

The North Norfolk Railway and the romance of steam

Posted on by Platypus Man

One of the highlights of our recent visit to Norfolk was a trip on the county’s award-winning heritage railway. The North Norfolk Railway covers a distance of around 5.5 miles (9km), from the Georgian town of Holt to Sheringham, a seaside town on the North Norfolk coast. A nineteenth century poet once named the area around Sheringham as Poppyland, which was his way of paying homage to the masses of poppies that carpeted local fields. For this reason the railway is popularly known as the Poppy Line.

The countryside through which the Poppy Line passes is indeed scenic, the railway architecture is atmospheric and the historic rolling stock is eye-catching. However, I’m fairly certain the reason most people take a trip on the North Norfolk Railway is to get up close and personal with its steam locomotives.

Let’s be brutally honest for a minute – steam trains are the quintessential example of yesterday’s technology. They are noisy, smelly and dirty emitters of CO2, and as such are the very antithesis of the brave new, pollutant-free world we are trying to build in the 21st century. And yet, as the hordes of happy visitors to the Poppy Line prove, they remain massively popular. So we have to wonder, why is this? What is it that makes steam trains so popular?

It is, I suspect, because steam trains are perceived as characters in their own right. Modern transportation systems tend to be anonymous and sterile. Steam trains, however, have a life of their own, they are like “living machines”. The things that distress us about them – the noise, the smell, the pollution – are the very things that help give steam trains their distinctive personality. A journey on one of them is a massive and strangely appealing sensory experience. There’s nothing anonymous or sterile about a hissing locomotive clattering down the tracks while spewing smoke and steam into the sky.

And let’s not forget the nostalgia that steam trains evoke. We live in fraught, complex times and many of us hanker after a simpler way of life. Steam trains are the product of a bygone, simpler age and a journey on one is an invitation to wallow in nostalgia for a while. It’s romantic nonsense, of course – very few of us would actually have been happier living in the days when steam ruled supreme, in the days when fewer medical conditions were treatable, more people went hungry and nobody had a mobile phone! And were steam trains more comfortable and reliable than their modern day electric successors? I don’t think so!

But hey, escapism in small doses is not necessarily a bad thing, and the romance of steam – as served up by a journey on the North Norfolk Railway’s Poppy Line – offers the perfect opportunity to escape. I thoroughly recommend it.

The closest I’ll ever get to an Oscar…or a Nobel Prize!

Posted on by Platypus Man

A few weeks ago, to break our journey home after visiting family down South, we called in at the house known as Shaw’s Corner. It is one of those National Trust properties that is remarkably unremarkable, with few if any architectural or design features that merit a second glance. I suspect it is part of the National Trust’s portfolio only because someone remarkable once lived on the premises. George Bernard Shaw definitely falls into that category, being one of only two* people ever to have won both an Oscar and a Nobel Prize.

George Bernard Shaw’s Oscar, awarded in 1939 for his screenplay of Pygmalion

George Bernard Shaw (1856 – 1950) was born in Dublin, but moved to London at the age of 20 to pursue a career as a writer. During his lifetime he wrote more than sixty plays, and as a committed socialist also passionately supported a range of progressive – and sometimes contentious – political and social causes. As the leading dramatist of his generation he was highly influential in the development of Western theatre, and as such was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925.

Shaw’s Corner, George Bernard Shaw’s primary residence between 1906 and 1950, is remarkably unremarkable

Shaw’s most famous work – written in 1913 – was Pygmalion, a comic exploration of the class distinctions that are so deep-rooted within British society. In 1938 he adapted Pygmalion into a screenplay for a movie of the same name. This was further transformed into My Fair Lady in 1956, that movie being the creation of Lerner and Loewe as Shaw had refused to re-work it as a musical. It is for his original film adaptation that Shaw was awarded an Oscar.

As a witty and observant writer, George Bernard Shaw left behind a wealth of quotes that remain relevant today. Here are just a few that resonate with me:

“He knows nothing; and he thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career.”

“You don’t stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.”

“Both optimists and pessimists contribute to society. The optimist invents the aeroplane, the pessimist the parachute.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

“Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.”

Shaw’s Corner was the playwright’s primary residence between 1906 and his death in 1950. It was built in 1902 as the rectory for the village of Ayot St Lawrence in Hertfordshire. However the Church of England quickly decided the building was too large for the size of the parish. Shaw and wife took up residence instead, initially as tenants before buying the house and its land in 1920.

Spot the Oscar!

Today, the National Trust has laid out and furnished the rooms much as they were in Shaw’s time. His Academy Award statuette stands on the fireplace mantel, where visitors can admire it from afar. Meanwhile, the citation certificate for his Nobel Prize is securely displayed in an upstairs cabinet.

Citation certificate for the Nobel Prize for Literature, awarded in 1925

In my view, visiting a house simply because a famous person once lived there is not necessarily a good use of one’s time. Shaw’s Corner is an uninspiring property, and at no point could I sense the great man’s presence. But the time we spent there was not entirely wasted. Even though this blog is getting a lot of views these days it’s never going to win me any prizes. So, without doubt, Shaw’s Corner is the closest I’ll ever get to an Oscar or the Nobel Prize for Literature!

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* In case you are wondering, the other person to be awarded both an Oscar and the Nobel Prize for Literature was Bob Dylan.

At last, a local sculpture trail

Posted on by Platypus Man

Mrs P and I enjoy a colourful sculpture trail. They are plainly not high art, but they’re good fun and raise the spirits at a time when events – both international and here in the UK – are profoundly depressing. We have travelled to various parts of the country in pursuit of these trails, so it was a pleasant surprise when we discovered that our local area was to host its very own trail under the title of Ay Up Me Duck.

“Sunset over Amber Valley” by Rachel &Phillipa Corcutt (on display in Alfreton)

For those who don’t know – and I guess that’s almost everyone who’s never lived in the East Midlands region of the UK – “ay up me duck” is a traditional, casual way of greeting men and women who are your friends, or to whom you feel well disposed. I suppose it’s a bit like saying “hi, how’re you doing”, but it’s unique to this part of the country, and as such is a way of celebrating a shared local identity. Organising a sculpture trail that references this phrase is therefore a good way of reinforcing a positive community spirit, while the body shape of a duck gives ample opportunity for artists to show off their talents.

TOP LEFT: “Ay up, Belper” by Carla Dee (on display in Belper); TOP CENTRE: “Duk n Love” by Oliver Jamin (in Alfreton); TOP RIGHT: “Amber Sun” by Rebecca Grantham (in Ripley); BOTTOM: “Bee-ky” by Lynne Hollingsworth (in Heanor)

The Ay Up Me Duck trail features eight large, colourful ducks prominently displayed in the towns of Belper, Alfreton, Ripley and Heanor (two ducks per town) as well as a host of mini-ducks in shop windows. The large ducks are mostly decorated with images of notable landmarks to be seen in our corner of Derbyshire, as well as some of the wildlife that can be found here. The mini-ducks are more quirky and include one sporting a ceremonial guardsman’s uniform, another that appears to be a strange hybrid of duck and kangaroo, and third dressed up as a pirate. Weird, eh!

Mini-ducks, just a few centimetres tall, seen in shop windows. LEFT: “Guardsman Duck”; CENTRE: “Kangaroo Duck”; RIGHT: “Pirate Duck”.

All the ducks are located in, or very close to, retail areas of the towns involved. As well as boosting civic pride the aim of projects like this is, in part, to encourage more visits to the area in which the sculpture trail is located. This is no bad thing given that all local town centres – except Belper’s – are looking increasingly rundown, thanks to competition from online shopping and out-of-town retail parks.

“Derwent Duck” by Rebecca Mortledge (on display in Belper)

To some degree the trail seemed to be paying dividends, as we saw numerous families ticking off the ducks they’d successfully tracked down on their trail guides. It even persuaded Mrs P and I to visit a couple of places within just a few miles of our home that we’ve not seen for many years. Whether we, or those other families, will go back again after the ducks have been removed is doubtful, but for a few short weeks the Ay Up Me Duck trail is creating a bit of a buzz – or do I mean a quack? – around the Amber Valley district of Derbyshire. It is, I think, a most welcome initiative in these difficult times.

Leighton House – spectacular home of a record-breaking lord!

Posted on by Platypus Man

During a recent trip to London our ambition to escape the familiar tourist treadmill led us to visit Leighton House, the former home of a prominent 19th century artist and lord of the realm. Frederic Leighton (1830-1896), the artist son of a Yorkshire doctor, was successful, well-travelled and wealthy, and in the mid-1860s he started work on a new house in the Holland Park area of the city. The result was spectacular.

The Arab Hall

Leighton’s intention was to build a house that would function as his artist’s studio, while also serving as a work of art in its own right. In so doing he was able to channel his creativity, to indulge his passions and to show off some of the more exotic items in his personal collection.

The Arab Hall

The undoubted star of the show at Leighton House is the Arab Hall, a space that was inspired by the architecture and gardens the artist had seen on his travels in North Africa, the Middle East and Sicily. The Arab Hall displays Leighton’s collection of tiles, most of which were made in Damascus between the late 16th and early 17th centuries, as well as works by contemporary artists he commissioned to help bring his vision to life.

The Arab Hall. In the bottom photo the Arab Hall is viewed from the Narcissus Hall. The statue is of Narcissus, who plainly fancies himself!

The Arab Hall was part of an extension added to the house in the 1870s. It was completed in 1882, and is said to have cost more than the whole of the original building. Money well spent, I think! Leighton is reported to have said of the Arab Hall that he wanted to create “something beautiful to look at”. Well, he succeeded, that’s for sure. It is simply stunning, all the more so for being so totally unlike anything you would ever expect to see in London.

Top Left: In the garden “A Moment of Peril”, a sculpture by Sir Thomas Brock created in 1881. Bottom Left: Rear view of Leighton House, from the garden. Right: View of Leighton House from the street; you would never guess what lurks within, would you?

Leighton was an eminent figure in the English arts scene in the latter half of the 19th century. He painted both portraits and landscapes, dabbled in sculpture and was a big player in the Aesthetic Movement, which championed “art for art’s sake,” prioritising beauty, sensuality, and visual pleasure over practical considerations.

The Silk Room was used to display paintings by artists who Leighton admired.

Frederic Leighton was highly respected in the artistic community, as demonstrated by the fact that in 1878 he became President of the Royal Academy of Arts, the prestigious, London-based institution that was founded in 1768 to promote visual arts through education and exhibitions.

Two paintings by Frederic Leighton.

Such was the esteem in which Leighton was held that on January 24th 1896 he was made a Lord, becoming Baron Leighton. It was a record-breaking elevation to the nobility as he was the first painter ever to have received a peerage. He probably felt pleased with himself, but sadly that did not last long. Just one day later, on 25 January 1896, Baron Leighton died, enabling Frederic to break another – and altogether more unwelcome record: nobody in the history of English nobility has ever held a peerage for less time than poor old Fred!

The Dining Room was mainly used for the display of pottery.

Baron Leighton therefore had no time in which build a reputation in the House of Lords as a formidable debater and champion of the arts. From that perspective he was – through no fault of his own, of course – a complete nonentity. But who really cares about that? The building of Leighton House, and particularly the creation of its Arab Hall, has secured Frederic, Baron Leighton’s legacy for all time.

Not what I expected to see in London!

Posted on by Platypus Man

When we visited London a few months ago we made a conscious decision to avoid the tourist hotspots and instead have a look at some of the lesser known attractions. London definitely has a lot to offer, but St. Sophia’s Cathedral – more properly known as the Greek Orthodox Cathedral of the Divine Wisdom – was certainly not what I expected.

Surprisingly the first Greek Orthodox church in London opened way back in 1681, to serve a growing community of Greek origin. This influx was driven in part by the persecution of Christians under the Ottoman Empire, which ruled Greece at the time. In addition, some wealthy Greeks relocated to London to escape the political instability of their homeland, while others who worked in the shipping industry moved there to set up businesses moving goods between England and the eastern Mediterranean. The small Greek community thrived, and today the area of Soho in which they first settled is still known as Greek Street.

Although London’s Greek community prospered and grew, their original church did not. By the mid-19th century, demand amongst its members for an appropriate place of worship intensified, and it was this that ultimately led to the construction of a building large and grand enough to meet the spiritual needs of a community that was now numbered in the thousands. Work began on the construction of the Greek Orthodox Church of the Divine Wisdom in 1877, and it was formally consecrated in 1882. In 1922 it was designated as a Cathedral serving the needs of all Orthodox Christians in the British Isles and Malta.

Arriving at the Cathedral, the view from the street is unremarkable, and at first I wondered if our visit was worth the effort we’d made to get there. Crossing the threshold, however, I quickly learned that the ornate Byzantine interior boasts an impressive array of intricate mosaics and other beguiling features. This riot of gold leaf, multi-coloured marble and elaborately carved wood seemed strangely exotic, very un-British, not at all what I expected to see in London – nor, indeed, anywhere in the UK – and was all the more pleasing for that very reason.

The Greek Orthodox Cathedral of the Divine Wisdom in Bayswater, London, most definitely possesses the “wow factor”, and is a clear illustration of why visitors to London should occasionally break away from the well trodden tourist trail and seek out some of the capital’s less known architectural gems. Well worth a visit!