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Authors: Michael Paterson
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century later. The house passed eventually to the Prince’s heir, Queen Victoria, who did not like it (it was far too close to the public streets to offer any privacy) and created her own summer home on the Isle of Wight. It was bought from the Crown by the town of Brighton and used for public events, but during the Great War in the following century, in a highly ironic twist of fate, was converted into a hospital for . . . Indian soldiers.
The most ambitious country house in Britain, as well as by far the most eccentric, took shape amid the Wiltshire countryside between 1796 and 1813. Fonthill Abbey was the home of William Beckford (1760–1844). To describe him as wealthy would be a considerable understatement. Indeed he was described as ‘the richest commoner in England’. At the age of ten he inherited a fortune derived from West Indian sugar plantations that would be the equivalent of more than £100 million today, and thus grew up unable to remember a time when he could not gratify any wish. He was, however, an unusual character with few friends. Suspected of homosexuality and the victim of what might now be termed a ‘hate campaign’, he was not regarded as acceptable by English Society and spent some years travelling on the Continent, absorbing its history and architecture. He was the author of a book, begun when he was twenty-one, called Vathek – one of the ‘Gothic novels’ in vogue in his lifetime – and this has given him a modest renown in English literature.
An admirer of the Gothic Revival architecture that had been used to such effect at Sir Horace Walpole’s Strawberry Hill and which was to remain in fashion for a century, Beckford too wanted to live in a medieval fantasy. Though he could probably have found a Tudor country house of the Lacock Abbey sort – a converted monastic building – to adapt to his taste, he did not do so. He could with equal ease have rebuilt any number of genuine, pre-Reformation ecclesiastical ruins and made himself a home from them. He could have remodelled the family house he inherited – Fonthill Splendens. Instead he chose to build himself a medieval-style abbey, on a scale bigger than Glastonbury or Bury St Edmunds, from the ground up. He also wanted it built fast.
Though Beckford was in a tearing hurry to have it finished, the architect he employed, Thomas Wyatt, was notoriously slow and inefficient, wasting time to the extent that his projects might be whole years behind schedule, and frequently failing to turn up for meetings with his patrons or clients. During his periodic absences Beckford simply took over supervision of the work. The plan called for a massive structure that was not – like a real monastery – built around a cloister or a series of courtyards, but instead formed a cruciform shape with four long wings. These converged on a central octagonal space that was to be topped with a tower 300 feet high. Beckford was so committed to the project that he employed 500 workmen and had them organized into shifts that worked round the clock. When these proved insufficient he almost doubled their numbers by bringing in another 450, enticing them away from Windsor Castle where they had been working for the King. His tactic was simple – he promised them a more generous beer ration!
Like many later houses in the nineteenth century, when grand new homes would be thick upon the ground, Fonthill was deliberately designed to look as if it had stood for centuries by incorporating different architectural styles, suggesting changing fashions and the work of one generation overlaying or altering that of the last.
Wyatt had suggested for the central tower a material called ‘compo cement’ – timber to which wet cement was applied as a kind of stucco. This was not suitable for a structure so tall or so massive, and the tower collapsed. It was simply rebuilt, six years later, but this too fell down. Beckford, whose enthusiasm for the building seemingly could
The most ambitious country house in Britain, as well as by far the most eccentric, took shape amid the Wiltshire countryside between 1796 and 1813. Fonthill Abbey was the home of William Beckford (1760–1844). To describe him as wealthy would be a considerable understatement. Indeed he was described as ‘the richest commoner in England’. At the age of ten he inherited a fortune derived from West Indian sugar plantations that would be the equivalent of more than £100 million today, and thus grew up unable to remember a time when he could not gratify any wish. He was, however, an unusual character with few friends. Suspected of homosexuality and the victim of what might now be termed a ‘hate campaign’, he was not regarded as acceptable by English Society and spent some years travelling on the Continent, absorbing its history and architecture. He was the author of a book, begun when he was twenty-one, called Vathek – one of the ‘Gothic novels’ in vogue in his lifetime – and this has given him a modest renown in English literature.
An admirer of the Gothic Revival architecture that had been used to such effect at Sir Horace Walpole’s Strawberry Hill and which was to remain in fashion for a century, Beckford too wanted to live in a medieval fantasy. Though he could probably have found a Tudor country house of the Lacock Abbey sort – a converted monastic building – to adapt to his taste, he did not do so. He could with equal ease have rebuilt any number of genuine, pre-Reformation ecclesiastical ruins and made himself a home from them. He could have remodelled the family house he inherited – Fonthill Splendens. Instead he chose to build himself a medieval-style abbey, on a scale bigger than Glastonbury or Bury St Edmunds, from the ground up. He also wanted it built fast.
Though Beckford was in a tearing hurry to have it finished, the architect he employed, Thomas Wyatt, was notoriously slow and inefficient, wasting time to the extent that his projects might be whole years behind schedule, and frequently failing to turn up for meetings with his patrons or clients. During his periodic absences Beckford simply took over supervision of the work. The plan called for a massive structure that was not – like a real monastery – built around a cloister or a series of courtyards, but instead formed a cruciform shape with four long wings. These converged on a central octagonal space that was to be topped with a tower 300 feet high. Beckford was so committed to the project that he employed 500 workmen and had them organized into shifts that worked round the clock. When these proved insufficient he almost doubled their numbers by bringing in another 450, enticing them away from Windsor Castle where they had been working for the King. His tactic was simple – he promised them a more generous beer ration!
Like many later houses in the nineteenth century, when grand new homes would be thick upon the ground, Fonthill was deliberately designed to look as if it had stood for centuries by incorporating different architectural styles, suggesting changing fashions and the work of one generation overlaying or altering that of the last.
Wyatt had suggested for the central tower a material called ‘compo cement’ – timber to which wet cement was applied as a kind of stucco. This was not suitable for a structure so tall or so massive, and the tower collapsed. It was simply rebuilt, six years later, but this too fell down. Beckford, whose enthusiasm for the building seemingly could
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