Architecture is power: The rise and fall of stately homes.
The most popular buildings in Britain remain our stately homes. Something about the heady mixture of grand stately facades, impressive gardens, and immense estates creates a sense of awe. The feeling is not an accident; indeed, many of these grand edifices are a kind of stage set designed to impress and to actually create power, because that’s what architecture is at heart— an expression of power. So pop on some AC/DC on your AirPods and read on because this story has a happy ending, one where a poor market fish seller brought these powerful houses to their knees.
As an architect, I love to paint these beautiful buildings; composition, detail, and symbolism are all expertly handled by our greatest designers. Traces of previous structures are visible as buildings are extended and modernised over the centuries, a kind of palimpsest of styles from Palladian symmetry, Baroque theatricality, and the ambitious "strapwork" of the Elizabethan Prodigy House. Sorry, I got a bit arch-tecty then; the important part is that the buildings are showy, and different styles of architecture are adopted to reflect the style of the age. Why is this important? Royalty, that’s why, and what comes from it, which brings us to section 1.
I. The rise of the stately home: The Quest for Royal Favour
In the Elizabethan and Jacobean eras, a "Prodigy House" was a physical manifestation of a family’s ambition to attract a "Royal Progress,” a lavish visit from the Monarch. We actually still talk about these events today: the Queen sat under that tree, slept in that room, watched Celebrity Love Island on this sofa, etc. At the time, this was about ‘Your Progress’: if you pulled off a visit, you were at the top tier of society with access to great wealth and power, but it was a risk, so you better get the fondue right. Winners also spent time in the royal court and would be granted special positions in governance and even more land. It really could secure your family’s position. A few great examples of the stately homes from this period, of quite different styles, include:
Burghley House, Lincolnshire: Built by Elizabeth I’s spymaster, Sir William Cecil, its layout famously followed the shape of an "E" to honour the Queen (not a terribly difficult cypher to crack). Architecturally, it is a masterclass in Elizabethan features, including mullioned windows, diverse turrets, and a spectacular central spire. Many secret doors between rooms allowed servants to travel unseen, although one guest, Antonio Verrio, the flamboyant Italian artist, saw them. As he was painting the many murals around the home, he had affairs with the housemaids and included them in suggestive poses within his mythological paintings.
Wollaston Hall, Nottingham: Designed by Robert Smythson, this house represents a leap into Gothic-Elizabethan decoration— pimped to the max. Ironically funded by less decorative local coal mines, its three-storey central hall and ornate strapwork were designed as a stage for royal guests like Anne of Denmark and a later Charles I visit. The visit cemented Wollaston as a trusted, fashionable house. Even more impressive is that it belonged to Bruce Wayne (Batman) in the Christopher Nolan films as Wayne mansions.
The Queen’s House, Greenwich: A pivot towards the future, this was a gift from James I to his wife, which was sweet and it is really beautiful. It’s actually the first of a kind, a radical departure into Palladian classicism that would eventually redefine the British stately style. Unsurprisingly, quite a few stately homes then followed this new style; the Devil wears Palladio perhaps?
2. The Entourage: Adding an extension
A royal visit also was a bit of a roadshow. Queens and Kings travelled with entourages and roadies, a bit like Kanye West, and you were expected to put them all up. We are talking about hundreds of staff and guards of different rank; some would need rooms, others just glamping would do. It’s here that the stately homes get creative, and here are three ways they did that.
The courtyard: A safe, enclosed, flexible space. A great example of this is Gosfield Hall, Essex. The Grade I listed Tudor mansion was built around a substantial central courtyard, a pragmatic design choice to manage the retinue of Queen Elizabeth I. Unfortunately, when Elizabeth visited, she was focussed on war with Ireland, so that must have been a bit distracting.
The backdrop: Meal times could be difficult, but alfresco is never out of style. Later Georgian estates like Benham Park shifted towards neoclassical grandeur to signal status. Its tetrastyle Ionic portico on the main front creates an imposing Ionic-order composition that served as a formal backdrop for elite social gatherings.
Stick them in a hotel: Just as you wish the in-laws would do at Xmas, having a nearby hotel is a must. The Mitre at Hampton Court was originally"overflow" architecture; this site was built in 1665 specifically to house the excess guests Charles II could not fit within the main palace walls.
3. The downfall: When you fall from grace
The party is over, and all of a sudden, your text messages are left on read. The "royalisation” of private homes is a thing. If you found yourself at odds with royalty, you could easily be stripped of your lands and home; this threat kept landowners in line and paying taxes. Not all were lucky, and here are three religious ones that were not.
Hampton Court Palace: Originally a project of Cardinal Wolsey, who had actually got a bit too powerful for Henry VIII’s liking. Its Tudor state rooms and later Baroque transformation under Christopher Wren represent a physical timeline of royal takeover.
Christ Church, Oxford: Again seized from Wolsey by Henry VIII in 1546, it remains unique as the only college in the world to serve as a cathedral; its architecture repurposed to serve the Crown’s religious authority.
Leez Priory, Essex: Built on the ruins of a dissolved monastery, this rose-brick Tudor mansion was acquired by savvy courtiers who used the materials of the old church to build new seats of secular power.
Architectural Illustration: Blenheim Palace Water Terraces, Oxfordshire, | Architectural Illustration: Blenheim Palace lawn,Woodstock, Oxfordshire, England | Architectural Illustration: Blenheim Palace loggia, Oxfordshire, England |
Blenheim Palace: Not a fall by grace but a gift granted to the 1st Duke of Marlborough, John Churchill, by Queen Anne from a grateful nation following his decisive victory over the French at the Battle of Blenheim in 1704. Interestingly, it has strings attached; every year, the Duke must present a French flag to the crown, or the palace will revert to the Crown. It’s also the only non-royal palace allowed to use the term palace, not a bad deal.
4. The comeback: The stately home reborn
While we talk about royal takeovers, the opposite can also happen. Palaces are expensive to run; the staff, the garden, and heating bills are not getting cheaper. Some were repurposed by royalty and others, and that is why we can enjoy many of these homes today. The National Trust owns 300 of them, primarily for the car parking revenue (joking - they also have gift shops).
Hatfield House, Hertfordshire: Completed in 1611, it was built using materials salvaged from the Old Royal Palace where Elizabeth I spent her childhood, literally building Jacobean authority on Tudor foundations.
White Lodge, Richmond Park: A former royal residence that now houses the Royal Ballet Lower School; its Grade I listed Georgian rooms now function as a world-class ballet school. It is kind of magical walking past the school, hearing the music, and watching deer, which would have been part of the royal hunt in previous times.
Highclere Castle, Hampshire: While its Jacobethan and Italianate style was defined by Sir Charles Barry in the 1840s, its global fame now rests on its role as a cinematic landmark, as in Downton Abbey and Jeeves and Wooster (so posh!).
5. The fishmonger: The End
A strange title in this context, but an even stranger tale. I am talking about a fellow named William Crockford, one of ten children who grew up in the poorest parts of 19th-century London. Expected to follow in his father’s footsteps as a fishmonger, he had other unique talents which were perfect for the time. He was amazingly talented at mathematics and could read people well; he soon realised this allowed him to calculate odds and win at cards. Why was this so perfect? There had been a general lack of wars, and the rich were restless, gambling-filled that void, and Crockford was on hand to relive them of their cash. He would say ‘I ruin one a day’ and by word he did. Many Lords were forced to sell off their lands to cover the debts. All this took place at 50 St. James Street the site of 'Crockford's gambling hell' which cost £12.5m to build, a fortune for some but Crockford won this in a single game of cards.
In this 'gambling hell' Sir Godfrey Webster lost the equivalent of £7m in one sitting, William Molyneux, the Second Earl of Sefton, and his son lost a staggering £35m.
Crockford played his part but in a twist of fate lost it all to bad investments, the legitimate side of gambling. Ultimately, the rising costs of running such large stately homes became the real impetus for the movement to public ownership. More of a whimper than a bang, unlike good old Earl of Sefton; now he was a bit more AC/DC.
About the Artist Christian Coop, MSAI, is an architect and artist documenting the UK’s built heritage through one of the largest contemporary collections of architectural watercolours. With 30 years of experience an architect and a Design Director at leading global firms, his work has been featured by CNN, the BBC, and the RIBA Journal. He is currently an Associate Partner and Design Director at HTA.
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