When Baroque Came to England
Greenwich Revisited
I last went to Greenwich in 2009, but returned recently for the purpose of researching my book Sir John Vanbrugh and the Making of Britain. I was keen to remind myself of that splendid architectural achivement - the Royal Hospital - designed by Sir Christopher Wren with assistance from Vanbrugh and Nicholas Hawksmoor. I particularly wanted to see the whole scheme from the river - the Thames was much more of a thoroughfare for Londoners in the 18th century than it is today, and these buildings were intended to be seen from the water.
I was not disappointed by the splendour of this vision, which swings towards you with enormous speed on a London Transport vessel, but which could have been appreciated in a slower fashion in the Georgian period. Thanks to my recent trip to St Peter’s in Rome I was able to make a direct comparison between Wren’s work and that of Michaelangelo, Bramante and others. English Baroque is much sturdier and plainer, relying for its main impact on form rather than embellishment - just look at those emphatic rows of double columns that make up the colonnades, like sentinels or soldiers standing to attention. It echoes Bernini’s colonnades at St Peter’s, but with none of the flamboyant curvature.
For me, this spot is particularly significant because it’s where Vanbrugh was knighted by George I in 1714 (probably on the grass outside the hospital) and he built a house there: just a 15-minute walk away on Maze Hill. Having laboured up many hills during my research for this book, I can say with truth that Vanbrugh loved a high prospect - it was a sign that you’d made it.
Much like Greenwich Hospital, Vanbrugh Castle is easier to see from a distance - in fact, you can’t miss its crenelated form on the horizon as you cut across the park outside the Queen’s House (wait, did you just imagine that Rapunzel-like tower poking its head above the trees? Or that large beech with a parakeet in it?) Although the whole complex is sprawling and has been extensively altered over the years, it shares the stolid monumentality of Vanbrugh’s other buildings. If you didn’t know otherwise, you might think it was a Victorian folly or a water tower.
Finally, I found the view from One Tree Hill in Greenwich Park to be particularly interesting (above) - just a minute’s walk from his house, I like to think of Vanbrugh standing here, gazing at the hospital. Did he remember all the old tribulations and triumphs, working with Wren and Hawksmoor? Did he think about the day he was knighted?
For comparison, see Turner’s view below (painted in 1809), which I imagine is much closer to what Vanbrugh would have seen. Turner exhibited this image with one of his own poems, also below.
Where burthen’d Thames reflect the crowded sail
Commercial care and busy toil prevail
Whose murky veil, aspiring to the skies
Obscures thy beauty, and thy form denies
Save where thy spires pierce the doubtful air
As gleams of hope amidst a world of care.
The text which follows is a shortened version of a blog I wrote in 2009 about my visit to The Painted Hall at Greenwich - another important 18th-century pitstop which I hope to revisit soon. Vanbrugh commissioned Sir James Thornhill to produce the astonishing Baroque interior, which remains one of the best in Britain.
Thanks to London Midland’s £15 deal for a return ticket to London, it seemed rude not to visit the capital on Bank Holiday Monday (especially as it was sunny there and cold and wet in Lichfield). So we headed off in the direction of Greenwich, bound for The Fan Museum, where my patient boyfriend was going to endure several hours learning about the ceremonial and decorative uses of the fan. However, as we rocked up on Crooms Hill we realised that the museum was, indeed, closed on Mondays.
Never mind; Greenwich isn’t short on historic treasures, one of the greatest being the Greenwich Hospital, founded in 1694 as the Royal Naval Hospital for sailors, with its ornate chapel and the famous Painted Hall, where (in 1806) Lord Nelson’s body was laid in state before being taken up the river Thames to St Paul’s Cathedral. The architecture alone is absolutely stunning; above is a statue of George II which stands in the Grand Square.
I wasn’t quite prepared for the grandeur and beauty of the Painted Hall (1707-27). It was originally intended to be the hospital’s dining hall, but by the time the artist James Thornhill had finished with it – painting an elaborate trompe-l’œil interior that would be 19 years in the making – it had become too much of a major tourist attraction and was used, instead, to raise funds for the Hospital. Thornhill, you will remember, was Hogarth’s father-in-law and his ‘great and laborious undertaking’ at Greenwich earned him a knighthood.
We went up the steps to the Upper Hall, where we were presented with the scene of ‘the Accession, or the landing of King George at Greenwich’. A glance at the bottom right of the scene, at eye level, revealed Thornhill’s self-portrait (above), his paints and brushes temporarily abandoned on the base of a nearby pillar. It was in this area of The Painted Hall that Nelson lay in state (the walls were draped with black fabric and anything between 15,000 and 30,000 people paid their respects). Here I am (below) standing on the very spot.
A final word: I’m still looking for a publisher for my Vanbrugh book so please get in touch if you know of anyone who might be interested. And if you like The Painted Hall but can’t visit in person, you can take a fantastic virtual tour here »
The Painted Hall is truly magnificent. Like you, I was not prepared when I stepped into it.
Really enjoyed this! I don’t know much about Vanbrugh’s architecture, but we studied The Relapse at school and I still laugh to myself at some of the jokes.
On another note, I have tried to message you through your website about your proposal