Today I have visited what is certainly my favourite manor house among those seen in all my travels across the country – Ightham Mote in Kent. Once within its quadrangle I was immediately transported to the early 14th century. The cobbled courtyard is a balanced scheme. It is closed on all four side by walls and sloping roofs held by strong old beams of oak. The moat that surrounds the house enhances the medieval ambience that pervades both inside and outside. Every stone and beam plays its designated part. One cannot help admiring the elegance in design, the comfort achieved and the balanced proportions displayed. The oak beams must have the credit for much of this endearing mood. They present the skeleton of the house, the bare elements of living that is yet quite comfortable. They are the guardians of the preserved soul of the house. While much of the castle at Sissinghurst has vanished save the tower and its wing, here at Ightham Mote there is little to imagine for there is much to be admired in original flavour. Some of the praise must go to the National Trust and its volunteers whose dedication to the preservation of heritage and history is unwavering. The gardens are plain in comparison to those at Sissinghurst but the blooms of wisterias and foxgloves were an attraction to both bees and men!
Earlier today I was at Knole, yet another great house (one must say a palace), first with an Archbishop of Canterbury, then with King Henry VIII and then passed on to the family of Sackvilles. The paintings on their own may take many long hours for a serious study but on the whole only a handful of them made an impression such as those displayed in the Great Hall. The pride of the place is often acknowledged as the collection of royal Stuart furniture. Other than being of vague historical interest they are little else and far less admirable. The upholstery is so faint and tattered that the designs can hardly be made out. The colours have faded beyond identification. If I had these in my house they would for sure cast a depressing mood to the entire house. The effect on visitors is clear. Very few stop at these pieces of worn-out furniture. If the common man fails to appreciate what true value can there be in them regardless of expert opinion? The same is to be said of the exquisite Indian carpets from the once rich princely states of the subcontinent. These carpets, now faded and their designs obliterated, have neither attraction nor awe that must have been their character in their early years.
There are some beautifully carved fireplaces, marble tabletops, plastered ceilings, silverware and china. Despite these items of worth, the overall effect was dull and dreary. The lighting was poor, necessarily to preserve the delicate items on display (most rooms have an instrument called the dosimeter that measures degradation due to exposure to light) but this enhances the dullness of the rooms. The brown oak panelling that covers the walls did not help either and so different from what our own generation prefers. The cold rain outside and the lack of heating inside didn’t warm the general feeling. Yet it was a worthwhile visit for the deer in the park were at peace, the sun followed quickly the departure of rain and the dripping oaks gleamed in the early afternoon light.
The walk from Knole to Ightham Mote and back along Greensand Way had one particular moment that is worth noting. A narrow path well-shaded by a row of pine trees on the right and some woods on the left was intimate and delightful. The neat row of pines catching the afternoon light perfectly balanced the shaded woods. Here too was the striking contrast between the art of man and the energy of nature. Surprisingly, the return path did not yield a similar feeling though nothing had changed – neither the lighting, nor the vegetation, nor the silent isolation. Is it that the balance of a picture is affected by the dominant eye of the observer? In other words, a mirror image is not as inviting as the original. Or is it the case where the human mind initiated to beauty from a certain angle fails to see the same from another? Is this a case where familiarity of a treasured thing clouds the mind in seeing new treasures? Or is it that moments of joy are elusive and rare, where one’s state of mind must be in harmony with the primitive elements of nature, the hour of the day or the stars that rule from above?
