Osbert's Scottish Baronial

In my previous blog entry, I presented Kieran's marvellous pen and ink sketch of the recently restored Great Hall at Balintore Castle. A friend called Mark said how much it reminded him of a mid 20th Century cartoonist called Osbert Lancaster. I was familiar with the name Osbert Lancaster, but had never studied his works, and Mark very kindly sent me a vintage copy of Osbert's book on the history of building interiors entitled "Homes Sweet Homes".

Osbert's Scottish Baronial Great Hall

You can can see at once how close Osbert's cartoon of the Scottish Baronial style is to Kieran's version of Balintore's Great Hall. Balintore Castle was designed in the Scottish Baronial Style, by the architect William Burn who essentially invented the style. Amusingly, all the stuffed creatures with horns look very happy to be there, but the bears are thoroughly resentful. 

Accompanying every cartoon of the different historic interior styles is some witty text by Osbert who was also a writer. I have to say that both the drawings and the text give me enormous pleasure. The drawings are charming and lightly amusing, whereas the text is savage: very much in the modern spirit of "throwing shade". Here's what Osbert has to say about Scottish Baronial:

His joshing tenet is that Scottish Baronial is pagan in its conception and I daresay he is right, although of course Scottish Baronial is also Scotland's take on Gothic, which is a style premised upon Christian cathedrals. Perhaps Osbert is saying there remains something of the heathen in the Scot? I will append the text of the Scottish Baronial article in a Rosetta Stone moment. :-)

What is fascinating are the categories and names of the interior styles. Some of these are no-longer recognised today, and some are now known by different terms. Here are the terms Osbert uses in chronological order with my modern translation in brackets where this exists.

• NORMAN
• GOTHIC
• TUDOR
• ELIZABETHAN
• JACOBEAN
• RESTORATION
• LOUIS XIV
• BAROQUE
• ROCOCO
• EARLY GEORGIAN
• CLASSIC REVIVAL
• REGENCY
• EARLY VICTORIAN
• LE STYLE ROTHSCHILD
• SCOTTISH BARONIAL
• VICTORIAN DINING-ROOM
• GREENERY YALLERY (Aesthetic)
• THE EARNEST 'EIGHTIES
• ANGLICAN
• DIAMOND JUBILEE
• TROISIÈME RÉPUBLIQUE
• ART NOUVEAU
• EDWARDIAN
• FIRST RUSSIAN BALLET PERIOD
• ORDINARY COTTAGE 
• CULTURED COTTAGE (Cottagecore)
• CURZON ST. BAROQUE
• LUXURY FLAT.
• ALDWYCH FARCICAL (Townhouse)
• STOCKBROKERS TUDOR (Mock Tudor)
• MODERNISTIC (Art Deco)
• VOGUE REGENCY (Hollywood Regency)
• FUNCTIONAL (Modern)
• EVEN MORE FUNCTIONAL (Brutalism)

I recognise the style "Curzon St. Baroque" from the illustration. This is a modern style of the 40's and 50's but looking back to the Italian past for ornamentation. I never knew this had a name before. :-) Most of the 20th Century styles Osbert describes have died. The one style that is still going very strong is CULTURED COTTAGE, this is very much alive in magazines like "Homes and Gardens" where the interior reflects a rural idyll. There is colour-washing, distressed-textures, but enough books and works of art scattered around to shout that educated, rich and arty people are in residence not yer actual country yokels.

Osbert's light touch is at one remove savage satire, but also betrays a deep love of his subject and is, in a paradoxical way, educational. One critic indicates that by stereotyping styles, in the fashion of a cartoonist, in a printed form Osbert almost defines these styles for future generations and I think this has some truth to it.

The book was first published in 1939, and when Osbert references the 'fifties he means the 1850's, and he still has the cultural memory that can distinguish the style of the 1870's from the style of the 1880's. We have lost this, so the book's time perspective is of an even greater historic value today. He casually refers to air raid precautions, and we tend to forget that life still went in throughout WWII. The book was republished in 1939, 1940, 1941, 1944, 1946 and 1948, which I presume is the date of my copy since it is the last date provided.

Osbert Lancaster is now out of fashion: he once held a much higher currency. However, I am delighted to report he is still in value.

SCOTTISH BARONIAL

THE official religion of Victorian England is usually considered to have been an evangelical form of Christianity suitably modified to bring it into harmony with a public school education and the principles of free trade, but one is sometimes tempted to wonder whether in large tracts of the country, particularly in Scotland, an older faith that blended ancestor worship with totemism did not reassert its hold on the upper classes from about the 'fifties onwards. How else can we explain the sudden appearance of those vast, castellated barracks faithfully mimicking all the least attractive features of the English home at the most uncomfortable period of its development, and filled with rank upon rank of grim-visaged, elaborately kilted forebears? What other explanation can be found for the presence of these enormous necropolitan menageries stuffed full of stags and caribou, bears and tigers-creatures which, however attractive in life, in death perform no function but the constant employment of legions of housemaids with dusters? What other reason can be advanced for the phenomenal popularity of Mr. Landseer whose only merit as a painter was the tireless accuracy with which he recorded the more revoltingly sentimental aspects of the woolier mammals?

Whether or not Scottish Baronial has its origins in primitive religion its popularity was soon assured in all classes of society. Tartan, stags' heads and faithful representations of Highland cattle in various media soon enlivened the Coburg simplicity of the Court as successfully as they added to the discomfort of cosy little villas in Tulse Hill or Twickenham where the rafters were unlikely ever to ring with the sound of the pipes. And to-day many a dusty hotel lounge, many a dentist's waiting-room with their ritual display of these old symbols, recall, like the mosques of Spain, the former domination of a vanished faith.

Kieran's Pen and Inks!

Kieran is one of the horologists who commissioned the longcase clock in the Great Hall at Balintore Castle. Getting the clock running for the Great Hall opening ceremony, was very much the icing on the cake. A ticking clock is one way in which a room can be said to come alive. If the Great Hall is the heart of the castle, then the clock is assuredly its pacemaker.

To quote Robert Burns "The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley", and Angus Council banned the opening ceremony just a week before the planned event. However, Kieran was motivated by his visit to the castle to create some art and to write a novel inspired by the building, so there is always some form of a positive outcome, even in dire circumstances.

What Kieran perhaps did not know is that I am a great fan of illustration, particularly in the representation of architecture, and his pen and ink drawings of Balintore Castle are precisely my thing. He used an ink pen of the same vintage as Balintore Castle, and believes the resulting uneven and scratchy lines produced are an integral part of the work.

The Great Hall Banquet

Castle Bedroom

The Castle

Who am I to disagree?:-)  I mentioned his charming work reminds me of that produced by superstar illustrator twins Janet and Anne Graham Johnstone whose work I feature in an earlier blog post.

Another architecture illustrator I rate is Ruth Steed who did the drawings for the first edition of the novel "I Capture the Castle" by Dodie Smith.

How architecture and atmosphere can be captured simultaneously in her "simple" line drawing below is a mystery to be celebrated.

the fictional Scoatney Hall

Dating Outlander Clock

After the first 30 seconds of the first episode of the first TV series of "Outlander: Blood of my Blood" (the "Outlander" prequel) a longcase clock is shown.

Outlander clock

I started in my armchair as there is an astonishingly similar one in the Great Hall at Balintore Castle.

Balintore Castle clock

I was told, by a horologist friend, that my clock dates from before 1770, due to the square date aperture. After 1770 round apertures become more common. I was delighted by the early date. I knew brass dials were earlier than the painted dials that we associate with the Victorian era, but did not know when they came in.  Google now tells me the transition between brass and painted dials is 1770 to 1800 - who knew?  :-)

Anyhow, the Outlander prequel begins in 1714 so could my clock be this early, or is the Outlander clock an anachronism?

Using google images, this is the closest to the Outlander clock I could find:

William and Mary clock 1795

It is pretty close even down to the silvered chapter ring and it is dated to 1695 i.e. William and Mary. So Outlander have got their props correct, their longcase clock is from the right era.

My clock has a maker "Jos Vervroegen à Anvers" a Flemish chap from Antwerp, so a simple textual look-up found this clock from 1770 in the Vleeshuis Museum in Antwerp, whose face appears an exact match. My wooden case is very much a later and inferior replacement. The revelation that my clock, £120 from a Glasgow auction house, is not of similar museum quality has not come as a major shock! :-) 

Antwerp clock 1770

I was slightly perplexed that the style of these brass clocks has not changed much from 1695 and 1770, perhaps one of these attribution dates is incorrect? 

However, the twin cherubs and crown style spandrels of the Outlander clock date between 1690-1720, so 1695 fits right in.

Branch style spandrels of my clock date between 1760-1780 which fits in with 1770. Arched dials appear after 1715, and as my clock has an arched dial, this again confirms it is later than the Outlander clock.

One friend told me that my clock dated between 1720 and 1740. I was enormously impressed by their erudition, and while my clock certainly matches the overall style of this period, the small stylistic differences in the detailing and the scanned page of the book above tell a different story.

This is precisely the same misapprehension I had when first visually comparing the Outlander clock to my own. The devil is in the detail.

I had not made the mental connection before between the "William and Mary" era, and the fact my clock is Flemish - both were imports from the Flemish region of Continental Europe. There was a time when things from the Flemish region were deeply fashionable in UK.

The opening sequence of "Outlander: Blood of My Blood" concerns the death of the chief of the MacKenzie clan and drama develops from the power vacuum created. The chief's longcase clock is stopped and covered with a cloth, a tradition which comes down to the 20th century in the form of W.H.Auden's poem "Funeral Blues" which famously starts with the line "Stop all the clocks,".

I have now watched the first 2 episodes of "Outlander: Blood of My Blood", and it is definitely growing on me, and I suspect, unlike most prequels/sequels, it has the same watchability as the original.

Here are the links I used to date the clocks. You are very welcome to continue the research.

https://ivaluations.net/antique-english-clocks-an-expert-guide/
https://www.pendulumpublications.com/latest-post/tips-for-dating-early-antique-longcase-clocks

Maeshowe Here's How

On my first trip to Orkney, a conversation with a local in a pub in Stromness, established that the most impressive neolithic site on the island was Maeshowe - a chambered cairn dating to 2800 BC. With limited time on the island, my friend Katherine and I then planned a lightning excursion to the neolithic sites ending up with Maeshowe. 

This would have been a straightforward day trip, except we had scheduled it for the middle of Storm Arwyn. It was a blizzard!

I lost my sense of direction walking round the Ring of Brodgar, and in the white-out conditions I could not see the road we had arrived on, Katherine's car or indeed Katherine.  I felt I was destined to walk round the neolithic stone circle for ever until exposure got me.

I was already fairly well advanced on the exposure front.  My desperate survival strategy was to leave the circle at various points that felt strategic and just walk outwards radially. After a certain stage I would retreat back to the circle. Anyhow, on the fifth such outwards walk, I caught a sighting of the car - phew!  Ötzi - it was not my time!

Afterwards, as we came up to the turn-off for Maeshowe, Katherine said "I'm cold, I'm wet and I'm hungry. Let's head in the other direction to Kirkwall for food".  I replied "This could be the one time in our lives, we get an opportunity to see Maeshowe. It could be now or never, do you still want to go to Kirkwall?". "Yes" came the resounding reply.

Anyhow, we thawed out spectacularly in a hostelry in Kirkwall. I had my first satisfactory experience with cheesy chips.

On my second trip to Orkney, I made certain that Katherine and I had a clear run to Maeshowe on our last day. But it was locked up! By an amazing coincidence a tour party came by with the key. "Can we join you?" we asked. "No, we are limited by numbers due to H&S and anyway, you have to buy a ticket first".

On my third visit to Orkney, my friend Scott and I looked up tickets online, but only one ticket was left!  What were we to do? Scott suggested I buy the one remaining ticket, and then to introduce him as my carer at the visitor centre.

As soon as I emerged from Scott's car at the visitor centre car park, my stage limp was already in place. Scot stayed in the car, and I had a little chat with the combined shop attendant and tour guide making sure my limp was exhibited to best advantage.

Thankfully, they were geared up for carers. Of course they could rustle up an extra carer's ticket, and the worst part is that the carer's ticket was free. I felt awful, a strong desire to see a neolithic tomb had now transmogrified into financial deception. :-( I would like to send out my eternal apologies to the Maeshowe staff in this forum.

A mini-bus took us from the visitors' centre to the mound. Unfortunately, there was still a long cross-country walk from the destination bus stop to Maeshowe proper, and I found that prolongedly maintaining the limp, created using muscular tension, was no making my leg hurt badly. Towards the end of the Maeshowe excursion, I worked out I only had to "mime" the limp which I could do simply by timing, but by that stage the damage had been done and it still hurt.

No photography is allowed in Maeshowe and indeed this is as it should be. When you have travelled a long way to experience an architectural space, why then should you dilute/taint that experience with a vulgar photograph? Taking a photograph in public is almost as bad as using a mobile phone in public. It creates a social tension. Few people want to be in a photograph and taking a photo is intrinsically contrary to a group dynamic.

I occasionally sneak in a photo as an aide-memoir or souvenir, but I make sure it is not intruding on anyone else, and often have no photographic record just for this reason. When I get a private view of a building, then it is due to the courtesy of the host, and particularly in this instance I would simply not get my camera out.

Anyhow, what I did record was a short video on the approach to Maeshowe as it had been a long time coming, and I had believed with the two previous fails that I had missed out for a lifetime. With the just one ticket remaining, I had though the third occasion was going to be yet another fail.

I would agree with the local in the pub, that Maeshowe is probably the one unmissable attraction than Orkney, even ahead of Skara Brae and the amazing St, Magnus cathedral. However, limit your expectations: the central chamber is only 5m by 5m - just the size of a standard living room. What is special is the sense of atmosphere and history.

When a group of vikings took shelter in the chamber in a snowstorm in the

12th Century, the structure was already ancient, and the newcomers left some carved runes behind. A historian's dream!

After the tour guide has done the main spiel in the interior of the cairn, the lights are switched off and a hand torch is shone askance on the walls. The runes, previously invisible, jump into existence. It is a magical coup de théâtre. I try not to do my homework before any visit and the runes were totally unexpected. I could kick myself, as I thought I had examined the interior thorough as I was determined to take full advantage of this once in a lifetime opportunity.

Maeshowe is a exercise in the philosophy of the "intactness of space". Despite a 1910 replacement roof at the very top of the central chamber, this was the same space that was also special to our neolithic ancestors. I could tell, before the tour guide explained, that the white painted arches at the top of the chamber were more recent, as arches only really came in during the Roman era.

The age-old debate is what this large central chamber and its three side chambers were used for. I was very strongly drawn to climb into the raised side-chambers (not permitted!) as it is human nature to climb into cosy safe spaces. Were these burial chambers or bed chambers? Absolutely no bones were found at Maeshowe and indeed this is the case for many neolithic long barrows. Wouldn't an historic clearing-out of tombs have left some bones?

In any case, the point is that construction is in our nature, and these ancient structures form one of the most enduring and most profound channels of human communication across time. After three attempts to answer the call, I was most definitely listening.

One of the most iconic carvings in the chamber is the charming "Maeshowe Dragon". Scott bought a badge bearing the image in the giftshop. I was quite envious, and would have bought one too had I spotted it. :-) Some sources refer to it as a lion, and that's my feeling about the creature too.


 

The Maeshowe Dragon/Lion

Maeshowe Visitors' Centre

Dining Room Fireplace

In a most unexpected and uncharacteristic burst of house-keeping, my builders decided to tidy up the area around the castle’s dining room fireplace.  I was told that the remaining in-situ sections of pink granite mantelpiece would have to be removed for the tidying to occur, so I decided to photograph the process.

first photo

In the first photo you can see the start of the work. A 1950’s (?) concrete infill has started to be chipped out. The circular hole in the concrete would have allowed a stove to be connected up to the fireplace, which would have been infinitely more efficient than the original open fireplace.

second photo

In the second photo you can see the brick "throating" which would have been inserted in the 1950’s (?) to improve the draw of the stove.

third photo

In the third photo the original fireplace has been revealed. It is impressively large and open with an elegant and subtle arch. The original metal insert has long since gone. It will be rewarding to put something beautiful back in this location. We now have a starting point.

Entrance Porch

Even though Angus Council banned the opening ceremony for the newly restored Great Hall at Balintore Castle, one positive outcome is that the original architect for the restoration project called Paul Bradley, came up from Suffolk specially for the occasion. It was so lovely to see him again.

Paul was able to take an "after" photo of the entrance porch at the castle, to go with the "before" photo he had taken many years previously. Often it takes someone from outside to capture progress. With the door repaired and repainted; the vegetation removed; and the urns returned, things are looking much better.

In fact, you can see clearly how the urns complete the composition of the porch. How did I ever manage without them? :-)

entrance porch before

entrance porch after

Broughty Castle

For reasons far more interesting than this blog entry will ever be, I had to kill some time away from the castle on Thursday, so local historic buildings were the order of the day. Broughty Castle in Dundee was the most obvious solution: it is nearby and I had unbelievably never visited before.

I generally don't get much time away from Balintore, so the respite from restoration duty was very welcome. Broughty Castle is now a small free museum run by Dundee Council, and is a brilliant asset for tourists. The problem is that locals tend to visit small museums only once, thereafter only taking visiting friends, so my impression was that visitor numbers could be on the low side.

The exterior of the castle and its location are arresting: a tall tower on a rocky promentory above the sea. So the castle is a good side-diversion for visitors to Broughty Ferry beach, and I suspect this is how it gets most of its visitors.

The interior of the castle is somewhat disappointing for architecture fans, as there are no clues as how to interpret the mediaeval building - constructed in 1490 and restored in 1860. The museum galleries were modern looking rooms. The only clues as to antiquity were the deep window recesses cutting through the massive stone walls and the vast timber ceiling beams, which although installed presumably in 1860, recalled the original mediaeval beams.

The problem is that the 1860 reworking of the building was to turn it into a "modern" artillary defence against a looming French invasion. In short, the make-over IMHO lost the mediaeval charm. A second sandstone ashlar tower was added to the orginal white rendered tower i.e. a new-L shaped extension was bolted onto one corner of the ancient rectangular structure. The new tower was not constructed without care i.e. it is in a mediaeval style, but considerations of preserving the archaeology of the older structures were not so much in vogue then. 

The castle's small modern generic municipal museum feel, could be turned into something far more spectacular and far more suited to its incredible setting. For example, I would like to know which room  was the orginal Great Hall, and to look at the vaulted(?) lower floors which visitors bypass to get to the gift shop, where visits start and end. All in all, I could find almost no information on the Web on the actual structure of the building. The best online source I could find is here.

I asked in the gift shop for a book on the castle. There was none. There had once been a thickish pamphlet but this was now out of print, and they had a single reference copy. The impression given is that although the building is very much in plain site of Dundee citizens, much less is known about the structure of the building than most other castles.

The modern military use of the building continued until the end of 1945!

I bought an interesting book in the gift shop on "reading" castles and this rather than one on Broughty Castle itself, that I might have preferred, is how I made my donation to the building.

I arrived at the Broughty Ferry beach car park early in the morning. On the journey, the sunshine at Balintore gave way to thick sea fog hanging over the Tay. The combination of fog and strong sunshine is a magic one for photographs. I remember a famous photographer saying that you do not a get a good photograph unless there is moisture in the atmosphere to make the light interesting and for the image to be of that transient moment i.e. distingusing that unique split-second from a bland summer continuum of bright sunshine.

Anyhow, as the fog blew off during the course of the morning. I took a series of photographs. I was not "taking photographs" as such but recording moments that caught my eye as I walked around. I held back often when it might have appeared that I was sticking a camera into someone's face. The resulting 7 photos below are not conventional but just me having fun.

The last photo shows that Dundee not only has a beach but a life guard station - the latter surprised even me!