The shaky future of stately homes
All,
to pick up where I left last time… it’s 1937 and the UK government have just introduced the National Trust Act allowing houses to be gifted to the National Trust tax free. It meant the survival of homes that would otherwise have crumbled and decayed and the National Trust now owns more then 200 historic houses.
It marks a very new era for these buildings. They are largely no longer living centres of community but preserved – like a fly in amber- at the moment of its history that is deemed most attractive to paying visitors. The National Trust is good at what it does but the essential living connection between the home, the land and the community is largely severed; a charitable organisation, no matter how well run or staffed, cannot come close to the emotional connection between a family and their home- especially one that has been in that family for centuries. Priorities will differ, and maintenance regimes and spending priorities will be skewed by the needs and demands of the wider organisation. The National Trust while excellent at many things is not well known in the broader conservation industry for the excellence of its more mundane building maintenance.
The architecture of stately homes continues to be adapted, but the museum-like priorities of organisations like the National Trust mean adaptations at their properties are more peripheral- turning the stables into a tearoom, or an outbuilding into a giftshop. The house itself no longer lives and breathes in the same way. Houses in private ownership are still homes and while some rooms may be preserved in a historical manner for visitors the rest of the house must function for the family that lives in it. This might include additional staircases within smaller, less impressive parts of the home to allow the family to live apart from the rooms that are open to the public; or subdivisions- such as at Provender House where they have created a series of holiday lets within the house to provide an income.
Today’s privately owned country homes are having to work hard to survive. These large and expensive buildings- built as the centrepiece to a whole community- are not well adapted to the life of a single nuclear family and are far too expensive for one income. The Duchess of Rutland has stated in the past that their family seat, Belvoir Castle, costs in the region of £40,000 a month to run, and this is only to ‘stand still’- without any restoration projects or decoration.
Diversifications and adaptations have become essential to keep the roofs in one piece and to prevent the houses rotting. Many homes are open to the public- which provides an income and holds certain tax advantages; others have found lucrative, if sporadic, income in renting out spaces for filming; others yet provides venues for holiday lets, weddings, agricultural or country shows or small parades of shops selling local produce.
The success of TV franchises such as Downton Abbey and Bridgerton has exacerbated global interest in these palatial houses- and fuelled the fantasy of the lives that are lived there. Modern custodians however report endless cleaning, gardening, buckets underneath leaky roofs and ineffectual boilers; more time spent in muddy jeans than tiaras. (see ‘The Duchess’ podcast) However, all seem ready to present parts of their home in such a way as to allow visitors a moment of the glittering fantasy so many of these houses were built to evoke.
The history of the British country house is the history of our country- with all the opinions, events and people that we both celebrate and condemn today. Theirs is the history of how we live together- and our move towards privacy. They were built for an expression of community life that no longer exists- supported by and supporting the villages around them. Our contemporary expression of community is more private, individualistic and transient; the houses and their families need to adapt to it to survive. The ‘big house’ is no longer the obvious employment location for every young person in the neighbouring village; but it may be the obvious location for a private and fairytale like wedding for young couples from hundreds of miles away.
As society has become more global so have the connections and community surrounding these homes. The rallying cry for the private owners of these houses though is perhaps best expressed by Demetra Lindsey of Hedingham Castle: “You don’t own a place like this- you are looking after it just for a brief breath of time… you have a duty to pass it on” – Britain will surely be the poorer should these remarkable and fantastical places cease to be able to adapt and fade into history or crystallise into museums of a bygone past.
Until next time
Ellie