In the Countess of Salisbury's chantry at Christchurch it is much easier to imagine the Italian carver following the English mason, and adding his ornament to the other's work, for nearly all of it lies in sunk panels, the highest parts of the carving being on the same face as the surrounding margin: that is to say, the Italian found plain surfaces between the moulded members left for him to carve, and one set of these plain surfaces, on the side next to the choir, he did not carve—they still remain bare. Take away the ornament, and the chantry in general design and treatment is Late English-Gothic (Fig. 14), such as no Italian would have produced, if we except the topmost stage on the choir side, where there are two domed pinnacles of rather clumsy and unintelligible design (Plate V.). One of these has a curious feature—the somewhat vulgar product of the later Italian carvers—namely, the lower drapery and the feet of a figure ascending into clouds, all executed in complete relief. On the north side, next to the aisle, are some shields in the spandrils between the niches (Plate VI.), carved in the Italian spirit, and these can hardly have been added afterwards, but must have been an integral part of the design. The arabesques on the vertical shafts and in the horizontal bands might very well have been carved by a man put on for that purpose only (Fig. 15). Altogether, it is difficult to adjust with any accuracy the claims of the English and Italian workmen; it would almost seem as though they worked together, or at any rate with a cordial understanding between them. The same may be said of the screen to Prior Draper's chantry (dated 1529) in the same church. The general design is Gothic, and while the arabesque enrichments may have been added afterwards, and the spandrils of the flat-pointed door, the same can hardly be said of the corbels to the niches over it (Fig. 16). The cresting along the top of this screen exactly resembles that over the screens at the sides of the choir at Winchester Cathedral, except that the latter has not a battlemented finish (Fig. 20).

Although it is not difficult to imagine an Italian carving this stonework at Christchurch, it is not quite so easy to attribute the interesting choir-stalls to him or a compatriot, for the Gothic feeling is too pronounced, and the angel and cherubs are not lissom and graceful enough to have descended from an Italian sky.

The divisions between the miserere seats (Fig. 17) are thoroughly Gothic in general treatment and in their mouldings, but in the carving the Italian hand shows itself, although subdued to the Gothic surroundings in which it worked. Some of the desk ends are traceried and cusped, and some have vases and foliage after the Italian manner. But here again the two putti which turn their backs in so unceremonious a way (Fig. 18) can hardly be the work of Italian chisels.

It is equally difficult to assign the beautiful panelling in the long gallery at the Vyne to a foreigner (Fig. 19); there is so much English feeling about it. The work conveys the impression that the carver was more at home with his linen panels than with the Italian flourishes with which he supplemented them; but the single panel over the door is evidently the work of a hand thoroughly familiar with the Italian method. We see the same mixed character wherever we look; we can point to no work—not even Henry VII.'s tomb—and say, "This is wholly Italian." There is always a strong English feeling, and sometimes it is only a touch here and there which shows the foreign influence.

The same remark applies to the stone screens at the sides of the choir at Winchester (Fig. 20). They are Gothic in general treatment, but a little Italian carving is introduced in the cresting along the top. They were the work of Bishop Fox in 1525, who evidently had a hankering after the foreign ornament in his life, although his own chantry, in which he lies buried, is free from it; for in the neighbouring church at St. Cross are the fragments of some very beautiful screens containing charming Italian work (Plate VII.). The history of these fragments is not known, but from the occurrence in them of the pelican, which was Bishop Fox's badge, they seem to be due to him, and they may possibly have come from the cathedral itself. They do not belong to their present situation, and one of the main posts is worked with a return at a very obtuse angle, indicating some such polygonal disposition as the east end of the cathedral has. On the top of the choir-screens in the cathedral are placed six oak chests, called mortuary chests, procured by Fox, in which are deposited the bones of various benefactors. They are of Italian workmanship (except two which replaced the old ones in the seventeenth century), and are suggestive as being one of the sources of inspiration to native carvers. One of them is shown in Fig. 20, and just behind it can be seen the cornice of the chantry of Bishop Gardiner, who died in 1555. The portion visible is of well-developed classic character, and indicates how the use of the foreign forms had progressed during the thirty years that had elapsed since Fox's time. Even here, however, the pinnacle at the corner—the head of a heraldic animal on a pedestal—shows how the designer was unwilling or unable to shake off all the trammels of his native style.

At Basing Church, in Hampshire, there is yet another example of the same limited use of Italian detail in the Paulet tombs, which are constructed in the thickness of the side-walls of the chancel (Plate VII.). The arches over the tombs and the doorway in the wall are all flat-pointed, and the spandrils are filled with Renaissance carving, which, in the case of the large arches, surrounds the arms of the founder. Except for these touches, and for the cresting along the top, which recalls that at Winchester, the detail is all Gothic. The large panel in the wall over the doorway seems to be of later date.

Another interesting piece of work of this period is found in the stalls of Henry VII.'s chapel at Westminster. The canopies (Fig. 21) are quite Gothic in character, but of a rather florid description, and although there is no actual Renaissance detail, there is a tendency towards it. The caps of the pilasters are also Late Gothic, while the columns are of that honeycomb pattern which is a sign of change towards the new fashion (Fig. 22). There is woodwork of a somewhat similar character at Winchester in Langton's chapel, and in Prior Silkstede's pulpit (1520). The Spring pew in Lavenham Church, Suffolk, is another instance of the late treatment of woodwork. There are niches, canopies, fan-vaulting, and cusped tracery (Fig. 23), but a closer inspection shows that the tracery has completely departed from the simple lines of Gothic work, and has assumed fantastic forms combined of twisted strands and foliage (Fig. 24), while the columns are honeycombed or twisted into spirals.

These examples all tend to show that the old traditions died hard. The new ideas were cautiously accepted, and were utilised to help the existing methods rather than to supplant them. Hitherto it has been fittings, or chantries, or tombs which have furnished examples—comparatively small and isolated pieces of work which naturally lent themselves to experiments. But we find the same general treatment in larger and more important efforts; the native tradition still holds the field, but traces of the new manner are to be found in the spandril of an archway, the termination of a label, or the pendants of a roof. Compare the roof of the hall at Eltham Palace (Fig. 25) with that of the great hall at Hampton Court (1534-35). The roof at Eltham is still Gothic, without a touch of the Renaissance; the roof at Hampton Court is also still Gothic in conception and construction, but in the most susceptible parts—the pendants, the spandrils, and the corbels—the new influence makes itself felt (Fig. 26). These pendants are quite in the new style, and yet were carved by an Englishman, named Richard Rydge, of London.[3] The spandrils likewise are filled with Renaissance ornaments carved by Michael Joyner, among which the King's Arms and the "King's beasts" appear, treated in the manner customary in Late Gothic work; the Tudor badges are also carved on the pendants and corbels, amid the cherubs and balusters and foliage which go to compose the Italian ornament (Fig. 27).

Another fine piece of woodwork, which was being executed contemporaneously with the hall roof at Hampton, was the magnificent rood screen in King's College Chapel, Cambridge (Plate VIII.). There is no record as to who did this work, nor when it was done; but the evidence of the arms, initials, and badges upon it, which are those of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, fixes its date between 1532 and 1536. It has been called the finest piece of woodwork this side the Alps, and its exquisite design and workmanship quite justify the description, and even incline one to omit the limiting line. It is more completely Italian in treatment than any other work of the time, and there is very little trace of Gothic influence. All the mouldings are classic, whereas in the roof at Hampton Court even the Italian pendants have a Gothic feeling in their mouldings. There is, however, a considerable similarity in feeling between the pendants in both cases, and it should be borne in mind that the work at the two places was being carried on simultaneously. Richard Rydge, of London, who carved the pendants at Hampton Court, may have had a hand in the King's College screen; but it is practically certain that the general design and most of the work must have been done by Italians, and the whole screen must be regarded as an isolated example, complete in itself, not growing out of anything that went before it, nor developing into anything afterwards.

The early work at Hampton Court, that is, the work of Wolsey and Henry VIII., executed between 1514 and 1540, is typical of the prevailing manner. This building was the most important one of its time. It was built by the magnificent Cardinal as his principal residence, where he could live amid quiet and healthy surroundings, and yet be in close touch with London, which was the centre of political activity. Wolsey lived in more than regal state, and the enormous size and extraordinary splendour of his palace is testified to by many foreigners of distinction who resorted to him on some of the innumerable matters in which he was the controlling spirit. This great palace he presented to the king some time before his fall, and the king altered and enlarged it still further, and made it, as was to be expected, one of his chief residences. Here, then, we may expect to find the best work that wealth and skill could produce; here we may fairly look for typical work of the time. What is the character of the work that was being executed between 1514 and 1540? In its essentials it is Gothic of a late type, with just such touches of Italian detail as have been already mentioned. The structure is of dark red brick, with stone dressings; the detail is of the simplest; the windows are generally small, and have flat-pointed heads. Whatever elaboration there is, is chiefly confined to central features, such as the gateways on the great axial line. The chimneys are of cut and moulded brick; the archways are vaulted with fan tracery vaulting; the large windows of the hall are traceried and cusped; everything in its main outline is Gothic. But in certain parts the ornament is of Renaissance character. There are a number of terra-cotta roundels built into the walls, which came from Italy, and were made to the Cardinal's order. There is a terra-cotta tablet of his arms supported by putti beautifully modelled—this was also probably an importation; it has no essential connection with its surroundings. The same may also be said of the more roughly modelled panels on either side of the doorway to the chapel, which contain the royal arms impaling those of Henry's third queen, Jane Seymour, supported by very mundane angels. But there is also, in other parts of the building, a little Renaissance detail, which is an essential part of the design, and could not have been brought from elsewhere and built in. Such is the carving in the spandrils of doorways (Fig. 28), the pendants of the hall roof, and the ceiling decoration of certain rooms. This must all have been wrought on the spot, but it forms an extremely small part of the whole. While the spandrils of three or four doorways are carved with Renaissance detail, the doorways themselves are in other respects quite Gothic. The hall roof, as already said, is Gothic in conception, although much of its ornament is of the newer fashion. The same may be said of the chapel roof, which is an imitation in oak of some of the stone vaulting and pendants of the period. The ceilings will be referred to later, but it may here be said that most of them are derived from the wood-ribbed ceilings of Late Gothic work, and that only in the small room called Wolsey's Closet does the design decidedly follow Italian models. It will thus be seen that Hampton Court is essentially Gothic in style, and that only in its susceptible places has it been affected by the foreign fashion.

What happened at Hampton Court happened elsewhere, and in all the examples which have come down to us the same thing is to be seen—a Gothic structure with more or less of Italian ornament: more in such places as Sutton Court and Layer Marney Tower, less at Compton Winyates and Hengrave.

There was, however, one building, which has not come down to us, in which the Italian manner must have been much more in evidence, judging by such accounts as we have of the place. This was the palace of Nonesuch, in Surrey. It was built by Henry VIII. as a retreat, according to Paul Hentzner, the tutor of a young German nobleman who visited England in 1598.[4] It was in "a very healthful situation," he says, "chosen by King Henry VIII. for his pleasure and retirement, and built by him with an excess of magnificence and elegance, even to ostentation; one would imagine that everything that architecture can perform to have been employed in this one work; there are everywhere so many statues that seem to breathe, so many miracles of consummate art, so many casts that rival even the perfection of Roman antiquity, that it may well claim and justify its name of Nonesuch." The site was acquired by the king in 1538,[5] and as he died in 1547, he must have begun to build almost immediately. According to a statement in Braun's Civitates (1582), he "procured many excellent artificers, architects, sculptors, and statuaries, as well Italians, French, and Dutch as natives, who all applied to the ornament of this mansion the finest and most curious skill they possessed in these several arts, embellishing it within and without with many magnificent statues, some of which vividly represent the antiquities of Rome, and some surpass them."[6] About eight years after Henry's death the house was alienated from the Crown to the Earl of Arundel, and was thereby saved from the destruction contemplated by Queen Mary, who found it too costly to finish. The Earl, however, "for the love and honour he bare to his old master," completed the building and left it to his son-in-law, Lord Lumley, who added a second court. In 1591 it again came into possession of the Crown, and so continued until it was presented by Charles II. to his favourite, Barbara, Countess of Castlemaine, who pulled it down to help towards paying her debts. A few years before this happened Evelyn notes in his diary under date 3rd January, 1666: "I supp'd in Nonesuch House, whither the office of the Exchequer was transferr'd during the plague, at my good friend's Mr. Packer's, and tooke an exact view of the plaster statues and bass relievos inserted 'twixt the timbers and punchions of the outside walles of the Court; which must needs have ben the work of some celebrated Italian. I much admir'd how it had lasted so well and intire since the time of Hen. VIII., expos'd as they are to the aire; and pitty it is they are not taken out and preserv'd in some drie place; a gallerie would become them. There are some mezzo-relievos as big as the life, the storie is of the Heathen Gods, emblems, compartments, etc. The Palace consists of two courts, of which the first is of stone, castle-like, by the Lo. Lumlies (of whom 'twas purchas'd), the other of timber, a Gotic fabric, but these walls incomparably beautified. I observ'd that the appearing timber punchions, entrelices, &c., were all so cover'd with scales of slate, that it seem'd carv'd in the wood and painted, the slate fastened on the timber in pretty figures, that has, like a coate of armour, preserv'd it from rotting." Some two and a half years before this visit of Evelyn's, his lively contemporary, Mr. Pepys, had gone through the park to the house and, as he says, "there viewed as much as we could of the outside, and looked through the great gates, and found a noble court." In September, 1665, he was again there, and while waiting about he examined the house, which was, he says, "on the outside filled with figures of stories, and good painting of Rubens' or Holben's doing. And one great thing is, that most of the house is covered, I mean the post and quarters in the walls, with lead, and gilded."

Of all this beautiful work nothing has survived, except a painted panel or two preserved at Loseley, in Surrey, and possibly other fragments in other houses of the district. According to a statement of John Aubrey, the antiquary, some of the materials of Nonesuch went to the building of The Durdans near Epsom. Evelyn calls it a Gothic building, and we shall probably not be far wrong in placing it in the same category as other buildings of the time—English in conception, but adorned with foreign ornament, which in this case was of greater extent and better workmanship than that on any other contemporary house. It seems clear, however, that the work, important as it was, did not have any permanent effect upon English architecture. It was the culmination of the Italian movement prevalent throughout Henry VIII.'s reign; after his death, and before the newness of Nonesuch had worn off, the Italian influence gave way to the Dutch. Nonesuch was a large building, especially after Lord Lumley had added the second court; but it would seem that Henry VIII. actually built but one court, measuring 116 feet long by 137 feet wide.[7] Hampton Court had four large courts besides half-a-dozen smaller ones; the largest or Base Court, measuring 167 feet by 142 feet, still remains; so also do the Clock Court, measuring 160 feet by 91 feet, and the Chapel Court; the fourth, measuring 116 feet by 108 feet, has given way to Wren's buildings. Hampton Court, therefore, stood without a rival in point of size, but Nonesuch was more magnificently decorated, and we can but echo Evelyn's lament that the beautiful panels were "not taken out and preserv'd in some drie place."

Just about the time that Nonesuch was being built, Lacock Abbey in Wiltshire was being converted into a residence by William Sharington, who had bought it on the dissolution of the monasteries. He was lord of the manor in 1540, and he died in 1553,[8] so that all the work which he did must be comprised between those dates. One important part of his work is the octagonal tower at the south-east corner of the house (Fig. 29). The detail of the stonework is simple, and, except for certain brackets, does not show much foreign influence, but in the tower are two stone tables (Figs. 30 and 31), evidently made for their situation, which strongly display the new spirit. That one of them was expressly made for William Sharington is proved by his initials and crest being part of its ornamentation; and as a skilful mason named Chapman was working on the new buildings, it is just possible that he may have carved one or both of these tables. It is the table on the middle floor which has its base ornamented with Sharington's initials and crest; from this base rises a central pillar, against which squat four figures of satyrs carrying baskets of fruit and foliage upon which rests the table-top. The satyrs have that curious resemblance about their heads to North American Indians which characterises a number of such figures carved during the latter half of the sixteenth century. The second table (on the top floor) has nothing about it directly connecting it with Sharington. It was evidently intended for a banqueting house, as it is adorned with figures of Apicius, the first authority on the pleasures of the table, Ceres, Bacchus, and an unnamed personage of the same hierarchy.

30.—Lacock Abbey, Wiltshire. Stone Table in Tower.