INTERIOR FEATURES.

The chief points in the internal arrangement of houses of the period have already been explained in the third chapter. The hall was the central feature, entered at one end; next to this end was the kitchen; next to the other, or daÏs end, was the parlour. The kitchen and the parlour respectively were amplified according to the accommodation required, and in the larger houses the amplification entailed one or more courts, but the hall remained the centre of the system. The need for such great amplification as we find in the larger houses arose from the fact that large retinues accompanied great personages on their visits to each other, and that there was always the chance that the sovereign might have to be entertained upon one of the progresses which were undertaken three or four times every year. Both Elizabeth and James adopted this method of keeping in touch with their subjects, and they must have become tolerably familiar with their dominions, except, perhaps, the extreme outlying parts in the north and west; and so far as James was concerned, he made the acquaintance of a good many houses in the north, on his journey from Scotland when he came to take possession of the crown.

Royal Progresses.

When Queen Elizabeth made her progresses, she was frequently entertained with elaborate shows, which, presumably, must have pleased her, since they occurred so often, but which afford tedious reading to the modern inquirer. They were usually cast in an allegorical form, and had more or less dramatic action. They took place in the daytime and in the open air: it can hardly be said that they were performed, for the thread of the plot was so thin, and the stage of operations so large, that the whole effect must have appeared rather fortuitous, and wanting in cohesion. At night time and in one of the great halls, either of a city, a college, or a great house, there were other performances, in which the interest was more concentrated, and the characters more varied; these were called plays, of which a great number were performed, written by all sorts of people, and all affording (apparently) equal pleasure to the onlookers. The majority of these pieces have faded into oblivion, but a certain number have survived, and go to form much of what we know as the Elizabethan drama.

But it is with the entertainments provided in the daytime that we are more particularly concerned: they were of an ephemeral nature, and have not, like many of the plays, passed into the literature of the country: and our concern with them lies in the form in which they were cast and the spirit which animated them. When Elizabeth made her passage through the city of London to Westminster the day before her coronation—that is, on January 13th, 1558—the whole journey was interspersed with "pageants," as they were called.[16] These consisted of triumphal arches of various designs, upon which living allegorical figures were placed: one represented the Queen's immediate ancestors: another four virtues treading down four contrary vices; another the eight beatitudes; on another were Time and Truth his daughter; and so forth. Each of these personages, says the account, according to their proper names and properties, had not only their names in plain and perfect writing set upon their breasts easily to be read of all, but also each of them was aptly and properly apparelled, so that his apparel and name did agree to express the same person that in title he represented. As each pageant was reached, there stepped forth a "child" on to some prominent part of it, who recited a number of verses explanatory of the device, and a copy of these verses was affixed in a tablet upon the pageant, balanced by another bearing a Latin version of the same lines. Besides these, it says, every void place in the pageant was furnished with sentences touching the matter and ground of the said pageant. We have here, therefore, on a large scale, the same kind of treatment which was applied on a small scale to chimney-pieces—allegorical figures and various inscriptions more or less pithy. It is a matter for speculation whether either the Queen or the populace at large thoroughly grasped the full meaning of the several devices upon which so much ingenuity had been lavished; but certainly to the monarch, who stopped at every pageant, and received an explanation of it, the journey must have been extremely tiring, seeing how great were the number and ingenuity of the pageants. To preserve so much good work from oblivion, within the next ten days an account of the whole "passage" was printed, which towards its close gives much credit to the city, forasmuch as without any foreign person, of itself, it beautified itself. This casual reference to the foreign person, and to the city being able to manage without his help, shows that he was a recognized factor in the production of design.

When King James made his "memorable Passage from the Tower to Whitehall," on the 15th March, 1603-4, there were seven triumphal arches erected, of such importance that they were considered worthy of being engraved and published. They were designed by an Englishman, Stephen Harrison, "Joyner and Architect," and their architectural treatment followed the lines of the more pronounced Anglo-Italian work of the time, in which classic feeling has superseded Gothic. They are interesting as showing how completely the English craftsman had familiarized himself with the foreign methods of design. They were published by Harrison in 1604, the engravings being by William Kip.[17] They were built in a substantial manner, nearly six months being spent upon their erection. Two of them were called respectively "The Italians' Pegme" and "The Pegme of the Dutchmen," residents of these two nationalities being responsible for their erection; but it is curious to see that the Dutchmen's arch is not more Dutch in treatment than the Italians'. It evidently did not occur to Harrison to emphasize the character of his designs to suit the two nations, even if he were aware of the points in which their architecture differed.

It was perhaps natural in those days that when Queen Elizabeth visited the great seats of learning she should be greeted with a shower of Latin verses and orations. Pages after pages of these have been preserved, but it seems extremely doubtful whether the recipient of them could have found time to master their contents. The orations she listened to and understood, for the expression of her face is said to have changed with the subject-matter of the speeches, and some of them she answered in the same tongue. But it was by no means to Eton or to Oxford and Cambridge that Latin verses and orations were confined: obscure parsons in small towns seized their opportunities, and were often handsomely praised by the Queen for their skill. As to verses, when she visited Sandwich in 1573, "upon every post and corner, from her first entry to her lodging, were fixed certain verses, and against the court gate all these verses put into a table (i.e., a frame) and there hanged up."

The Queen's visit to Kenilworth Castle in July, 1575, is one of the best known episodes of her Progresses, and the "Princely Pleasures at Kenilworth Castle," recorded (and largely devised) by George Gascoigne, consisted of the same kind of entertainments as greeted her at her coronation. They are too long to quote extensively, but a few of the principal efforts will serve to show the kind of spirit that was abroad at the time.

As the Queen approached the castle, Sybilla met her and prophesied prosperity in a number of verses. On entering the gate Hercules, who acted as porter, seemed inclined to dispute her entry, but being overcome by the "rare beauty and princely countenance" of her Majesty, he gave up his keys, and burst into poetry. In the base-court there came a lady, attended by two nymphs, and the lady welcomed her Majesty in another set of verses. A few steps further on came an actor clad like a poet, who pronounced a number of Latin verses, which were also fixed over the gate in a frame. After leaving the poet, she was received into the inner court with sweet music, and then escaped to her own "lodgings." A day or two after her arrival there met her in the forest, as she came from hunting, one clad like a Savage man, all in ivy, who was so much overcome with wonder at the Queen's presence that he fell to quarrelling with Jupiter, and called upon Echo to explain who the resplendent personage might be, incidentally contriving to lavish a number of compliments in the course of the inquiry. Then Triton came, and the Lady of the Lake, and Proteus sitting on a dolphin's back, who all delivered themselves of further compliments in lengthy verses. It is just conceivable that her Majesty grew a little weary of these pedantic interludes, for one long show was prepared by Master Gascoigne, in which Diana and her nymphs, Mercury, Iris, and others were to have acted; but in spite of every actor being ready in his garment for two or three days together, it never came to execution, being prevented (its author thought) by lack of opportunity and seasonable weather. At the Queen's departure, being commanded by the Earl of Leicester to devise some worthy farewell entertainment, Master Gascoigne clothed himself as Sylvanus, the god of the woods, and meeting the Queen as she went hunting, broke out into a long extempore oration, which her Majesty at length interrupted by proceeding on her way. Sylvanus, however, kept pace with her, and continued his speech running at her side, until in very pity for his breathless condition, the Queen stopped her horse. At Sylvanus's humble request, however, she continued her ride, and he continued the ceaseless stream of his oration, until coming to an arbour, a second actor in the tedious drama, by name Deep Desire, took up his part, spake some verses, and sang a song. A few more lines from Sylvanus released the Queen from this very diverting farewell show.

Many other entertainments might be cited to illustrate the direction which popular taste took in these matters; but to multiply instances would be as tedious to the reader as (one cannot help thinking) the shows themselves were to the Queen and her attendants. This, at any rate, becomes clear—that the favourite themes, personages, and allusions were of classic origin; the thoughts were clothed in pedantic language; verses were freely written and hung up for passers-by to read, and the Latin tongue was employed in preference to the English, where it was not absolutely necessary that the points should be understanded of the people. The accounts that have been handed down of these interludes are, it is true, somewhat tedious reading, but under the genial satire of Shakespeare they lose their dulness and become amusing. We do not tire of Holofernes and his party in their presentation of the Nine Worthies, nor of Bottom and his company in their great classical interlude of "the tedious brief scene of young Pyramus and his love Thisbe," nor of Orlando and his verses, which he hung on every tree.

It was no small matter to entertain royalty in those days. Even in the present day, when facilities for moving about and for obtaining provisions are so vastly greater, and when the mode of life in the Court is so much simpler, it requires a large house and a well-filled purse. But in the sixteenth century the undertaking was more like providing for a small army, and it is not surprising to find that outside the wealthier owners of great mansions, there was a disposition to evade the honour. Lady Anne Askewe wrote to Sir Christopher Hatton, about the year 1581, to know if she might be excused on account of the shortness of the notice and her "unfurnished house."[18] The officials of the Court so far sympathized with this feeling that we find one of them writing to a friend who was threatened with the honour, Mr. More, of Loseley, to say what a "great trouble and hindrance" it would be, and to advise him to "come and declare unto my lord of Leicester your estate that majesty might not come unto your house."[19] It is not clear whether these representations were actually made, and if made whether they were successful or not; but, however that may be, the same gentleman (he was now knighted) received an intimation in August, 1583, from Sir Christopher Hatton that the Queen intended in about ten or twelve days to visit Loseley, and to remain there some four or five days, and that he had better see everything well ordered and the "house kept sweet and clean to receive her highness." Three weeks later Sir William More had another letter from Sir Christopher to say that on the third day thence the Queen intended to go to bed at Loseley for one night only, and that he should see that the house was "sweet and meet to receive her majesty," and should send his family away. These involuntary hosts were not always consulted beforehand, for one of them wrote to Sir William More in July, 1577, to say that he found the lists were issued for a progress into his county, and his house was one of those to be visited; accordingly he wrote to his loving friend, Sir William, to beg him, for the sake of old acquaintance and friendship, to say what order was taken by the Queen's officers in respect of provisions when her Majesty visited Loseley, as the writer was altogether unacquainted with the order of procedure. The lists of places to be visited, or "gests," as they were called, were carefully prepared beforehand, and gave the names of the houses and their owners, the number of nights the Court intended to stay, and the distance between one stopping-place and the next: this distance was on the average about ten miles, but it varied, according to circumstances, from five to fourteen, the latter being the longest journey attempted.

To entertain the Sovereign and the Court the houses were necessarily large, indeed we shall not be far wrong in attributing the enormous size of the largest—such places as Holdenby, Theobalds, and Audley End—to the express intention of providing suitable accommodation for Elizabeth and James. Sir Christopher Hatton, in a letter to Sir Thomas Heneage, in 1580, talks of Holdenby being dedicated to "that holy Saint," meaning the Queen; and Lord Burghley, in writing to Hatton about Holdenby and Theobalds, says "God send us both long to enjoy Her, for whom we both meant to exceed our purses in these."[20] In another letter (August 14th, 1585) he says, "My house at Theobalds was begun by me with a mean measure, but increased by occasions of her Majesty's often coming."[21] These mansions may be regarded almost in the light of large hotels, with certain common apartments for the guests, a large kitchen department, and a vast number of rooms arranged in groups of two or three.

Although notice of the sovereign's intended visit was usually given, it was not considered necessary for less exalted people to send word. When James's queen was journeying towards London from Scotland, a certain Lady Anne Clifford hurried with her mother to meet her. The lady describes her journey, and how they went without notice to a large house in Bedfordshire.[22] She says that having killed three horses that day—it was midsummer—with extreme heat, they came to Wrest, my Lord of Kent's house, "where we found the doors shut, and none in the house but one servant, who only had the keys of the hall, so that we were enforced to lie in the hall all night, till towards morning, at which time came a man and let us into the higher rooms, where we slept three or four hours." This artless account quite casually illustrates the relation of the hall to the rest of the house. It was the room first entered from the outside, and was shut off by doors from all the rest of the house. The servant who let the travellers in probably slept either in the buttery or a "lodging" attached to it, and beyond those two apartments and the hall neither he nor they could go until the "man" came who had the keys which gave access to the stairs and the higher rooms.

The Manner of Decorating Rooms.

Some idea of what the rooms were like which surrounded a courtyard of the time may be gathered from the description of the suite allotted to the Earl of Lincoln when he went to Cassell, in 1596, on an embassage to the Landgrave of Hesse; and although they were in a German castle the description would apply almost equally well to those in a large English house. The rooms were five in number, and they occupied the end of a goodly quadrangle, like the Louvre at Paris, high and stately.[23] They consisted of two dining chambers, two drawing chambers, and between the two latter a bed chamber, so placed "for his more quiet and private being." His lordship's own dining chamber was panelled with wood and marble, "with crestings, indentments, and Italian pillar work;" there were escutcheons with the blazoned arms of the Landgrave's "friends and allies of the Protestant part," and on the four sides of the room next the ceiling were carved four stories of the Creation, the Passion, the Resurrection, and the Judgment; the ceiling was wrought with knot-work. The next room, where the ambassador's gentlemen dined, was hung with tapestry. The next "was a fair drawing chamber, seated round about, and covered with scarlet; above the seats hung round with a rich small wrought tapestry of an ell broad, of emblem work, and verses written underneath; over this, upon a ledge of wainscot, were divers tables [pictures] of sundry devices, well painted, with their posies to garnish the chamber, and, among all, that was the best which had this motto: 'Major autem horum est caritas,' for it waxed cold. The roof was likewise flourished with painting and devices. These rooms had the through light of four fair windows." The bedroom was decorated with a painted tree that grew up at the door, the branches spreading all over the ceiling, full of fruit, and hanging down upon the walls, with other pictures to fill up empty places; the story taken out of Daniel. The last room of the suite was "a fair drawing chamber hung with arras, which parted his Honour's lodging from the other side of the house, that so he might not any way be disturbed." We get therefore in this set of rooms an example of the three principal modes of decorating the walls—by panelling, by hanging with tapestry or arras, and (more seldom) by painting. At Theobalds the hall was decorated with trees, and not only were they furnished with leaves and fruit, but, regardless of the niceties of natural history, with birds' nests too, and so lifelike was the effect that, according to the testimony of a German visitor in 1592,[24] when the steward opened the windows the birds flew in, perched upon the trees, and began to sing—perhaps to express their surprise at finding fruit and nests on the trees at the same time. This realistic treatment was, fortunately, not very common, and it is rather curious that so strong a man as Lord Burghley should have delighted in such embellishments, and others equally puerile in conception.

The more usual way of treating the walls was to cover them either with hangings or with panelling. There are numberless references to the former among the poets of the time. Imogen's bedchamber was "hanged with tapestry of silk and silver"; Falstaff fell asleep behind the arras when he took his ease in his inn, and had his pocket picked; Polonius, when he hid himself in order to overhear Hamlet's interview with his mother, slipped behind the arras, and it was through the arras that Hamlet subsequently made the fatal pass with his sword. The rooms in Spencer's Castle Joyous "were round about apparelled with costly cloths of Arras and of Tours," and the parlour of Alma's castle "was with royal arras richly dight." These hangings were moved from house to house when the family migrated from one abode to another, and in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit without Money there is a lively scene in which a great lady suddenly determines to leave her house in town for the country. Amid the confusion which ensues—servants shouting, my lady's sister in much anxiety about her dog, her looking-glass, and her curls—Ralph calls to Roger to help down with the hangings, but Roger declines, as he is unable to leave the packing of his trunks. The hangings at Hampton Court were of the most costly description,[25] Cardinal Wolsey being an ardent collector, and utilizing the services of his agents in various foreign countries to add to his stores. Three-quarters of a century later much of this splendour was still left, and the German visitor whom we have already seen at Theobalds says of Hampton Court, that "all the apartments and rooms in this immensely large structure are hung with rich tapestry, of pure gold and fine silk."[26] From this regal magnificence there were numberless gradations down to the "smirch'd, worm-eaten tapestry" mentioned in that conversation between Borachio and Conrade which led to their arrest by Dogberry. The subjects of these hangings were of extreme diversity—scriptural, mythological, and allegorical. There were the stories of Toby, Our Lady, and the Forlorn Son, alongside of those of Priamus, Venus and Cupid, and Hannibal. The story of Esther balanced the Romaunt of the Rose. Christian saints and heathen gods were equally welcome, and always and everywhere, either in foliated borders or forming the subject-matter itself, were the arms of the owner, with angels or amorini to support them, and a convoluted scroll to bear the motto. The allegorical subjects are the most bewildering, and they even puzzled the people of the time, to whom such trains of thought were familiar, for it is expressly said of the tapestry in Alma's parlour that in it there was nothing portrayed nor wrought but what was easy to understand. Of course much of the tapestry which was so widely used has now disappeared, or has found its way into the hands of collectors; very little is left in its original positions, even if it remains in the houses for which it was first acquired. There is a fair amount, however, to be found up and down the country, and the effect of tapestry-hung walls in conjunction with a rich plaster ceiling is shown in Fig. 134, from a bedroom in Deene Hall, Northamptonshire.

Wood Panelling.

Wood panelling is of a more permanent character than tapestry, or at least is not so easily removed and adapted to fresh situations; and there are many examples left of this mode of clothing and decorating the walls of houses and churches. It was in vogue tolerably early in the century, and there is a contract, printed in the History of Hengrave, between Sir Thomas Kytson, for whom the house was built, and Thomas Neker, for "seelyng" the house. This "seelyng" has been mistaken for plastering, but a perusal of the contract shows that it must have been panelling, since some of the rooms are to be "seelyd" their whole height, and others only to the height of the windows, or a certain number of feet high. Stools, benches, cupboards, and portals are also mentioned as part of the work, as well as "the gates at the coming in"; and Sir Thomas is to find all manner of timber, hewn and sawn. Among the rooms to be thus panelled were the hall, the two parlours, the wardrobe over the cellar, and the two great chambers above the daÏs. Seven lodgings, that is bedchambers, were to have portals only; sixteen other lodgings were to be "seelyd" to the pendant's foot, and on the pastry house a wardrobe was to be made, with one close press, and open presses round about. There was to be a fret on the ceiling of the hall with hanging pendants, "vault fashion"; no doubt after the manner of the watching chamber at Hampton Court, which was being built about the same time. Towards these works Sir Thomas Kytson was to provide the contractor with "all the old seelyng, and frets of the old work that is in his keeping."

The development of wood panelling is of considerable interest. Previous to the sixteenth century, that is in the days of the Gothic manner, the construction was on a substantial scale, the framing being formed of wood uprights and cross-pieces, measuring, perhaps, four inches by three in section, the uprights being from eighteen inches to two feet apart, and strengthened by horizontal cross-pieces at heights of three, four, or five feet, or thereabouts, according to the height of the room. The spaces thus formed into panels were filled with one piece of board let into the surrounding framing, which was sometimes splayed, but more generally moulded, the mouldings being stopped before they encountered the cross-pieces. The screen in the hall at Haddon (Fig. 135) illustrates this early method of construction, while against it, and clothing the wall and the side of the window-opening, is the seventeenth-century panelling, the development of which will be presently explained. The panels in Gothic work were ornamented either with cusping, such as may be seen in the upper part of the screen at Haddon, behind the antlers, or with paintings, such as still remain in a number of churches, especially in the eastern and south-western counties. Gradually, however, the large size of the framework was reduced: instead of being four or five inches thick by three or four inches wide, it became only about an inch or so thick by about the same width as formerly. The panels were made narrower, because it was found easier to get boards ten or twelve inches wide than of a width twice those sizes, and gradually the very long proportion of height to width was lessened, the panels became more nearly square, and eventually they were made of varying sizes and proportions, but rhythmically arranged.

The old idea of moulding or splaying the wood framework was long retained, and practical considerations in the framing of it together gave rise to a particular kind of effect, which is characteristic of the earlier kind of panelling. The framework is composed of vertical and horizontal pieces of wood tenoned together and secured by wood pins. It is obvious that if the edges of all the wood were moulded before it was framed together, it would be impossible to make a neat junction where the pieces crossed, because the continuous moulding on the edge of the one piece would interfere with the proper adjustment of the end of the other which comes against it at right angles. It will be seen by referring to Fig. 136, that on the horizontal rails, which are continuous, the moulding and the splay die out before they reach the vertical pieces, thus leaving a plain surface sufficiently wide for the latter to abut against, whereas on the vertical pieces the mouldings are continued from top to bottom of the panel and stop abruptly against the horizontal rails. The vertical pieces could therefore have been worked in one long piece and then cut into lengths, whereas on the horizontal rails the moulding was worked in lengths to suit the width of the panels—a more troublesome proceeding, and one requiring thought and care. The tendency of all change in workmanship being towards the saving of thought and care on the part of the great body of workers, the next steps in the development of panelling were in this direction. But before following these steps, a reference to Fig. 137 will show how in some cases the horizontal rails are continuous, with the edge-mouldings dying out, while the vertical are in short lengths with continuous mouldings abutting against the horizontal rails; and in others the parts played are reversed, and it is the vertical pieces which run through. It will be noticed that in addition to the edge-moulding, there are others on the face of the rails which, not being subject to interference by the abutting of the cross-pieces, are worked continuously without a break.

In both these examples (Figs. 136, 137), and also in Fig. 138, it will be observed that the panel itself is decorated with some kind of carving. The English form is shown in Fig. 137, where the panels are what are known as linen panels, the decoration taking a form something like folded linen. In the long gallery at the Vyne the walls are panelled with linen panelling, with the addition of coats of arms, or badges, or scrolls bearing a motto (Fig. 19). A later form is seen in Fig. 136, where the design is quite Italian in feeling. The circular panels containing heads became a favourite feature in English panelling about the end of Henry VIII.'s reign, and may generally be ascribed to a date within a few years of 1540. The diamond-shaped panels in the lower part appear to be horizontal panels standing on their ends, and are probably not in their original relation to the others. The two charming dolphins counter-hauriant, if the term may be allowed, carved at the top of a long panel, leaving the lower part plain, give a quaint and pleasing effect (Fig. 138). The presence of dolphins rather points to French influence, for, although no doubt the use of this form started in Italy, it was eagerly adopted by the French, since the dolphin was the cognizance of their dauphin. The door at Castle Rising (Fig. 139) gives another example of the use of heads in circular panels among Italian foliage; but it will be noticed that the mouldings round the panels do not conform to the type already explained, but to one which is a step forwarder in development. Instead of the mouldings of the continuous horizontal rails being stopped short of the sides of the panels, they are carried on and intersect with them. This intersection is called by joiners a mitre, and a mitred moulding is an advance on a stopped moulding or one that abuts against a cross-piece. It will be seen that in this example, although the moulding is mitred at the top of the panel, it still abuts against the bottom rail. In the panelling from Haddon Hall (Plate XL.) it will be seen that the very simple moulding mitres all round the panels. But in all these cases the mouldings are what are called "out of the solid," that is, the actual framework of the panels is moulded, the consequence being that wherever a moulding had to be stopped or mitred, thought and care were required, and a failure of either involved the injury of a fairly large piece of wood. The next step therefore was to refrain from working a moulding on the solid wood, but to keep square edges to the framework, and after framing up all the panelling with these square edges, to insert round the margin of each panel a small separate moulding planted on to the recessed panel. This saved much time and labour, and consequently expense, and is the method pursued in the present day. Its application may be seen in almost any four-panelled door in an ordinary house.

This latest form, the "applied" mitred moulding, hardly came into general use so early as the time of Elizabeth or James—indeed, the date of its earliest occurrence is a question of considerable interest. But mouldings mitred on the solid had almost entirely replaced the older form of stopped mouldings by the end of the sixteenth century. By returning to the illustration of the screen at Haddon (Fig. 135), an example may be seen alongside the heavier Gothic work; and another example, with a much deeper and broader moulding, may be seen in an upper room at the same place (Plate XLI.). It is a provoking characteristic of work of this time that its method of treatment does not give an infallible clue to its chronological sequence. In earlier times the mouldings gave this clue: when once a form was superseded by another, it did not occur again; but in the period now under consideration fashion was not so accommodating, and though on the whole the mitred moulding is later than the stopped moulding and finally superseded it, yet there are early examples of mitring, as in the panelling at the Vyne, which must have been put up before Wolsey's death in 1530, and there are late examples of stopped mouldings in such things as chests, which maybe as late as James I. The pewing and pulpit at Haddon (Plate XLI.) have them, and they are late Elizabethan, if not Jacobean, while the panelling in the dining-room, which is dated 1545, is mitred.

The panels themselves, which in early days were decorated with the linen pattern, and subsequently with Italian foliage and heads within circles, became plainer and simpler. In the dining-room at Haddon all the lower panels are plain, while a kind of frieze of ornament is carried round in those next to the cornice. The ornament consists for the most part of coats of arms from the Vernon pedigree, but there are also heads in circles, linen panels, initials with true lovers' knots, and other devices. All these are carved in relief, but in later times carving gave way to patterns formed by sinking the groundwork and leaving the design on a level with the face of the panel. There was little or no modelling in the design, and the work could be done by a less skilful hand than actual carving would require. An example is to be seen in a door at Beckington Abbey (Fig. 140): the same kind of work was often applied to the rails of panelling, the face of pilasters, and other plain surfaces. Another specimen, with a little more modelling in it, is at Nailsea Court (Fig. 141). The services of the carver were, however, by no means dispensed with, and there is a vast amount of richly ornamented panelling up and down the country, both in houses and churches. The monotony of the constantly repeated oblongs was broken by the introduction of pilasters, which were themselves fluted or decorated with patterns.

Carbrook Hall, near Sheffield, which has now fallen from its former estate, has a very fine panelled room, in which the pilasters are richly decorated with various simple patterns (Plate XLII.). They support a carved frieze, above which is a wood cornice, and above this again is a modelled plaster frieze some two feet deep, forming part of the handsome ceiling.

At Benthall Hall, Shropshire, is another instance where the monotony of the panels is relieved by the introduction of pilasters, and it is also lessened by the presence of the large centre panels (Plate XLIII.) with their greater freedom of treatment. The variation caused by adapting the same design to the narrower panel of the door in the middle bay is also a pleasant relief. The intention here was to rely upon the panelling itself for the decoration of the room; there was no thought of hanging pictures on it, which, indeed, would be out of place, and would spoil the effect both of themselves and the panelling. It may be doubted whether any of the panelling of the time, even the simplest and the most regularly disposed, was intended as a background for other ornament. It was itself the decoration, although, when perfectly simple, it could be used in a restricted way as a background for pictures. But the fashion of hanging up framed paintings and prints had not yet arisen; when it did arise it rendered wood panelling an inappropriate means for the general decoration of rooms. In the church at Stowe-Nine-Churches, Northamptonshire, are the remains of some good panelling which once served as a reredos, but which the reforming and restoring zeal of a late incumbent has now relegated to the vestry. There are fluted pilasters here, dividing panels which increase in richness as they ascend, the upper ones containing boldly projecting heads amid the usual strap-work curls (Fig. 142). Sometimes the panels were made with semicircular heads, which rested upon pilasters furnished with imposts and bases, all the margin being highly ornamented, while the panels themselves were plain, as in the Court pew at Chelvey, in Somerset (Fig. 143). There are many instances of the use of these arched panels: the long gallery at Haddon has them in wide and narrow widths alternately; and there is a room in the Red Lodge at Bristol where every panel is arched, the effect thus produced being very rich. At Chelvey the frieze is carved with a continuous pattern, as it was in very many instances, but sometimes it was decorated in a more mechanical way with ovals and oblongs, as at Benthall Hall (Plate XLIII.), and occasionally it was pierced in a very charming manner into a kind of filigree work, as in the remains of a screen at Stowe-Nine-Churches, which has shared the fate of the reredos (Fig. 144). The effect of the frieze in this instance is enhanced by its being slightly curved outwards.

In later days, instead of cutting down the substance of the wood in order to get carving in relief, the projection was obtained by cutting the ornament out of another piece of wood and applying it to the surfaces that were to be decorated. Some of the ornament at Benthall Hall appears to be treated in this manner. But whatever means were adopted, the end aimed at was the same—namely, an extreme richness of effect: indeed, in some of the panelling and in many of the chimney-pieces the result is bewildering in its intricacy of line.

Plate XLIb.

Haddon Hall, Derbyshire. Woodwork in the Chapel.