COWDRAY HOUSE, SUSSEX.

Mr. URBAN,-Forty years ago, Cowdray House, possessed of high antiquity, presenting a grand and perfect exterior, and an interior richly stored with the treasures of art and industry, in curious furniture, valuable paintings, and a library abundant in MSS., was the residence of Lord Montagu. It is now a mass of irretrievable ruins. I shall not here attempt to detail the circumstances of the accident which produced this awful calamity, so distressing to the family, and so fatal to the mansion, which had preserved its ancient splendour, no less in its banquets than its architecture, during many centuries; but it may be briefly remarked, that on the fatal night of the 24th of Sept. 1793, was rapidly demolished by fire a building which had been reverentially preserved and constantly inhabited by the founder's posterity. The fire, which commenced in the north gallery, soon extended itself to the chief apartments joined to one extremity, and those on the opposite connected with the gateway; and the ruins betray the power of the element, and the extent to which it carried its ravages, no individual member of the structure having escaped injury except the kitchen.

The situation of Cowdray House is low and sheltered, in a park of great extent, commanding almost every beauty with which nature could grace it. Excepting its vicinity to Midhurst, which a steep and well-wooded hill shuts out, though little more than a quarter of a mile distant, the site of this house seems to have been selected for no particular advantage, since it comprehends none of those scenes which distinguish many other parts of the park, and is itself not commanded from any very distant position, where the many noble features of its buildings might appear so as to convey a just idea of their real extent and interest. To the ancients, who certainly had less regard for a beautiful landscape than is generally evinced by their successors, the spot might seem marked out by nature for the convenience of a mansion. In the midst of the level track, the Arun pursues its course with silent celerity, between deep and narrow banks, and forms the boundary of an otherwise unenclosed lawn. A spectator accustomed to the system of ancient Domestic Architecture, will readily discover, as he approaches the building, an exception to the almost invariable rule of guarding the chief gateway by a court, at whose entrance was another though inferior gateway; and his imagination will easily and accurately supply the deficient member, whose magnitude doubtless befitted the design of which it formed a useful and distinguished part, but whose buildings were perhaps wholly resigned to uses less dignified than those which formed one side of its quadrangle. Yet it is not meant to determine what particular buildings occupied the outside court, or even that it was encompassed by any building more considerable than an embattled wall; but as it must be admitted that motives of state and convenience sanctioned an arrangement which originated in an age when security was principally consulted, it must also be obvious that the front of Cowdray House has been divested of the appendages, which both ornamented and protected it, and that the river answered the purpose of a moat which might not be passed without obstacle.

I may thus account for the alteration. The owners of Cowdray never felt nor feigned a disrelish for their ancient seat. But reverence for the works of their ancestors, at first generous and sincere, at length subsided under the powerful temptation of a national improvement (for so it was deemed) in architecture-it was at least an universal alteration of its style, corresponding with a change in internal economy.

A natural and forcible attachment to old appearances, long opposed their abandonment for experiments however specious; and the want of taste, or caprice, for these are often synonymous terms, left the owner of a mansion like this, so well satisfied with the same irregularly formed and furnished rooms, which had witnessed the presence and hospitality of his forefathers, that he would neglect if not despise the fashion of his own day; and certain it is, that Cowdray long preserved the integrity of its style, its architecture having GENT. MAG. VOL. I.

E

suffered no material alteration till comparatively modern times. When however its walls were yielded up to innovation, a sweeping plan was adopted to subdue its primitive internal character; to exchange seclusion for a prospect in the park, a circumscribed court for an unwalled and verdant lawn.

Some further remarks will be made on these alterations in the progress of the description; I cannot however avoid mentioning in this place, that another mansion of the same age as Cowdray, and in some respects not less magnificent, has been denuded of an external court, and of so many other interesting appendages, as to have reduced its exterior to a character very discordant with the high beauty of its architectural ornaments. The possessors of Hengrave Hall and Cowdray House had similar motives for opening the fronts of their mansions. The former exposed the charms of a gateway which, with a refinement of taste unknown or overlooked by the innovator, were screened from the common gaze. There was a propriety in the situation of this gateway with which the delicacy of its enrichments corresponded; but this it no longer maintains, and Hengrave like Cowdray has so long worn its present aspect, that the deficient member is not regretted because it is not remembered.

I will now endeavour by a brief enumeration of the component features of Cowdray House, to afford some idea of its magnificence. The Minimist* must imagine himself placed on the opposite bank of the river, and on the road once sheltered by a broad avenue of elms, extending from a pair of ancient and curiously wrought iron gates in the public road, about four hundred yards to the foot of the bridge which spans the narrow stream in two small arches of massy and unornamental stone-work. Immediately facing, but on the further side of a spacious area, appears the west front of the House, ennobled by a lofty tower-gateway in the centre of two wings, whose ruins extend to the length of one hundred and eighty feet.

Advancing to the archway, which no longer precludes by a pair of massy wooden doors an easy entrance to the meanest visitor, or affords the slightest protection within its roofless walls, the Minimist must in imagination pause ere he oversteps the threshold which enables him to fix his attention on one of the richest and most varied assemblages of ancient Domestic architecture in England. Before him appears the stately hall, in advance of which, at one end is the turreted porch, and at the other the lofty bay window, connected with which are the lofty bay windows of several other state apartments, aspiring to the height, but falling short of the extent, by which the hall is distinguished. The breadth of the quadrangle on one side, was completed by a few more rooms, whose walls lie in a confused heap of ruins, incapable of affording any idea of what the perfect edifice once was; so also lie the walls of the north and south sides; low fragments on their bases, and scattered ruins, mark the places where once stood the boundary on either hand: that towards the north seems to have presented an unbroken face, but the other was dignified with two square towers. The absence of these sides has removed every obstacle to the perfect view of two massy hexagonal towers, supporting as it were the ends of the house, and increasing their own picturesque forms by their positions on different angles. That towards the north is loftier, more plain, and more massy than the other; and its sullen grandeur seems to have awed even the fierce enemy which ravaged without resistance every other room in the mansion: this only escaped unhurt, and it is still entire. Let the Minimist in imagination follow the writer to the other side of the house. Here the boldest or most prominent feature is the chapel, with the great staircase joined to one side. Behind these the front retires on either side, considerably; and, though the walls are imperfect, their former grandeur is sufficiently apparent in the relics which remain.

If I have succeeded in this attempt to convey to the Minimist a notion of the general character and arrangement of Cowdray House, on the four sides of a quadrangle, one hundred feet broad from the gateway to the hall, and one hundred and forty in the opposite direction, I have attained my object;

See Gent. Mag. vol. CIII. part i. p. 17.

and we will now proceed to notice the admirable combination of so many members in a plan affording an extensive range of noble and conveniently disposed apartments, and at the same time preserving a certain irregularity of exterior, as though the architect deemed this privilege of his style one of the chief means by which he was to produce beauty, and this it certainly was; yet to show that he proceeded in his work systematically, and that the irregularity of his buildings was not the result of accident or caprice, there is an occasional agreement in the general figure, if not in the exact proportions of the corresponding members; as, for example, in the external front, where each angle has had a bow window, but the gateway is not in the centre, nor facing the porch of the hall. The chapel proves to the eastern front, a feature as bold and ornamental as a transept to a cathedral.

The fury of an inextinguishable fire, and the dilapidating hand of time, have not yet sufficed to impair the substantial walls of the great gateway. The four octagonal turrets at its angles once occupied by staircases, the hinges of whose doors are still rivetted to the walls, and studded with the nails which fastened them to the boards, have embattled parapets rising in fine proportions above those of the intervening walls. Their ornaments are restricted to single and cruciform loops, which however are numerous, and disposed alternately on the faces of the octagons. The windows over both archways have been altered, and their broad forms both disfigure and weaken the building. On a tablet over the outer archway are the arms of the family of Browne, displayed in sixteen quarterings, and surmounted by a coronet. The supporters are bears, and the motto "Suivez rayson." With the double stages of the gateway, corresponded the wings on either side throughout their extent; but the tower rose high above their battlements, gables, and clustered chimneys, and its perfection affords a striking contrast to their lowly ruins. The southern angle of this front, however, like the gateway, is entire in every part of its design; and the delicate frame of a bow-window resting its base on the ground, and carrying its summit to the parapet, determines the character, and testifies the beauty of the fallen front. The banqueting-hall is sixty feet long, twenty-six broad, and upwards of as many feet high, to the wall plate. These dimensions briefly and clearly express the relative proportions; but a just description of the architecture of this room is less easily attempted or performed by the pen. But in style, as in extent, this magnificent apartment excels every other in the house; its arches and tracery are formed with peculiar elegance, and the architect adhered as closely to what just before his day was the only style practised both in ecclesiastical and domestic buildings, as in the other rooms he scrupulously avoided its ornaments and the use of arches. There are three windows besides the bay, each separated by a buttress terminating in slender shafts, which rise above the embattled parapet, and were once graced with pinnacles, though now disfigured by clumsy balls. One of these windows appears over the porch, which is low, square, and embattled, having octagonal turreted buttresses at the angles, and a coarsely contrived tablet of arms over the doorway. The roof is groined in stone, and superbly ornamented. Four brackets in the corners sustain the concentrated ribs of as many quarter circles, which are spread over the ceiling, and enclosed in highly enriched borders, connected with a radiated circle surrounding a pendant rose, and being surrounded by eight double quatrefoils within circles. An anchor and a slipped trefoil, the badges of William Fitzwilliam, Earl of Southampton, are carved and alternately placed in the larger compartments; on the latter device is a label with the initials W. S. which are repeated in the spandrils of the doorways. A fragment of this ceiling, which is twelve feet two inches square, and exquisitely delicate, has fallen to the ground, and large fissures in different places, seem to threaten the speedy downfall of the whole.

In its present state of ruin, the hall presents as its most commanding internal ornament, the bay window, whose ample space appears beneath a broad and very lofty arch, handsomely panelled on the sides to correspond with the window, whose compartments are formed by five mullions intersected by as many transoms in the front. The form of the timber roof, which was of

great magnificence, is still visible on the walls, and the handsome stone corbels on which its beams and arches reposed, mostly remain. Its apex was lofty, and its ornaments peculiarly handsome. The loover on the outside was a beautiful combination of tracery and pinnacles, and among the ornaments the most conspicuous were nine emblazoned banners, the favourite and characteristic embellishments of this period.

The withdrawing-room, joined to the upper end of the hall, was probably on the principal floor, but the apartment beneath is equally large, though less lofty; each measures thirty-six feet long, and twenty broad, and both have windows facing the court, and towards the east, the former embayed, and united in one fabric. The communication to the lower room was by a doorway leading into the area of the great staircase, and from thence by a spacious archway to the high pace; but this corner of the building has been entirely destroyed. A richly ornamented cluster of brick chimneys surmounts a lofty gable in this part of the building. It is the only interesting specimen of the kind that has escaped injury or accident; but the weight presses upon a wall of doubtful strength and security, and both will ere long be precipitated into ruins. The staircase and chapel are on the east side of the hall; the former is now a vacant area thirty-six feet long, and seventeen wide; but on the walls still appear the marks of ascending flights of steps, which fancy may restore and place at its foot, and at every break in its winding course, a massy and curiously carved pillar, terminating with a lion or some other animal erect on his haunches, and grasping the staff of a banner, towards which his eyes are turned, as if to express his readiness to defend the master whose emblem he supports. A noble staircase must have occupied this area, which rivals the extent and altitude of modern dimensions, and is united with admirable skill and convenience to the hall, and its adjoining rooms. The staircase was illuminated by two windows; and on the outside its insulated angle has a slender octagonal turret gradually diminishing from the base upwards, and terminating in a slender turret with a dome and a lofty vane,—a solitary specimen of a most elegant ornament which formerly distinguished the parapets of this venerable mansion.

The chapel is suitable both in extent and architecture to the house; it is forty-eight feet long, and received its light through five lofty windows at the east end, which is of a semi-octagonal shape; their tracery is handsome, and, together with the embattled walls, remains entire and substantial. The sanctuary of the chapel was probably divided from the body by a wooden screen in the centre, from which point the width of the building is increased on the south side only. There are two doorways, one on each side at the lower end; that towards the south opens into a porch, which has an entrance on every side. Opposite is a door-way leading to a handsome apartment of the house, twenty-five feet long; the other openings lead into the gardens. The consecrated enclosure is obstructed by rubbish, and overgrown with weeds, and a cluster of brambles flourish on the spot once occupied by the altar.

Beyond the withdrawing-room are four less considerable apartments on the principal floor. One of these is within the hexagonal tower, which has another room above. In the lower story are four more rooms. Two towards the

east, with a handsome octagonal staircase turret at the angle, formed part of the state suite; but the others could scarcely ever have possessed the comforts necessary for habitations. The room within the tower is about 22 feet 6 inches in diameter, and groined with plain and very strong ribs of the most compact masonry, springing from the angles, and forming a low domical roof, with a sculptured key-stone in the centre. A bow window contains the doorway, and also admits light to the first vault. The hexagon is more scantily supplied; but the blackness of darkness was reserved for a long and narrow vault joined to the hexagon, and also to the outside of the north gallery. It is low, and enclosed by solid walls, which seem never to have admitted day-light to the interior.

The shape and situation of the kitchen tower have already been noticed. Its plain and ponderous character would render it a fit appendage to a Castle;

and when contrasted with the refined style of the other buildings, the idea that it is more ancient than the rest of the house, is irresistibly present; but, though its heavy appearance seems to countenance the opinion that this tower has been used for another than its original purpose, a little attention to the design will leave us fully persuaded that, in defiance of its stubborn simplicity, it was a masterly and ingenious contrivance for a use which it never ceased to answer till the accident, which now obliges the kitchen to be merely a receptacle for rubbish. The convenience of the interior required walls of great substance; but as the same strength was unnecessary throughout the upper part, the walls were reduced in thickness on every face by recesses between broad piers, which mecting in the angles are as solid as the basement, and so continue to the parapet, just below which they are formed into rather tall and very strong hexagonal turrets, as severely plain as the tower itself these are in fact the chimneys. There is a room over the kitchen, which however was sufficiently lofty for a diameter of twenty-two feet, and lighted by windows on the sides. Around the basement of the interior are the capacious and deeply recessed chimney-arches, and ovens ; at the summit are the windows; and on one side is the doorway, opening to a passage for the exclusive purpose of communicating with the hall, which was entered beneath the screen by a doorway, whose carved spandrils exhibit the oft repeated initials W. S.

Modern architects, to suit the refinement of the age in domestic architecture and economy, have strained their ingenuity to unite the kitchen with the house, so that, with the most perfect convenience, smoke and steam should be excluded from the family apartments. At Eaton Hall, the costly residence of the Marquis of Westminster, the kitchen occupies the eastern wing of the north front, and to all appearance forms a member of the solid fabric, but it is only slightly united to the house, of which it is a prominent feature, having an open court on the inner side. The kitchen at Cowdray has the same appearance of close connexion with the other rooms, and is similarly detached from them by an uncovered triangular court yard. Three centuries separate the periods when these houses were built, and this particular portion of an arrangement invented or practised early in the 16th century, cannot be improved though it is generally rejected or disregarded. Water, an element no less necessary than fire in a kitchen, was conducted into the middle of the room, and there collected in a large circular basin, in which a fountain was perpetually playing, affording an agreeable contrast to the heat by which it was surrounded. The staircase which communicated with the south side of the quadrangle, but was attached to the tower, also led to the room over the kitchen: and this, if not anciently, was in later times used as a library, but its contents were black-letter books and curious manuscripts, the more useful or more fashionable library having been situated in the south angle of the west front. The contents of the tower were secure from the flames which devoured pictures and furniture beside its massy walls; and here were conveyed such relics of the property as could be hastily snatched from rooms not yet on fire. But, as if the calamity had palsied the surviving owners, the remnants spared by the fire were long neglected with the building which contained them, and when at last either were remembered, the confused heaps of furniture in the kitchen and the library, awaited a selection which was so slothfully performed that their value was diminished or altogether lost. The last relics of old high-backed chairs, and one or two paintings, are of such a quality as to excite no regret that they are resigned to decay; but that the entire library should not have been removed with reverential care, is an instance of cold neglect which excites the surprise and rouses the censure of all who are permitted to enter the room. These manuscripts lie in heedless heaps on the floor, or are scattered on the shelves, and some, more ancient, and known by their rightful owner to be more curious than the rest, are set apart for the vacant gaze, and rude treatment of those who cannot read them an idle ceremony which, however, may not much longer exist for complaint, since their total destruction by fire has been urged, I am informed, from a quarter likely to prove influential.

But the noble ruins of the house itself are fast hastening to extinction. In