england

‘These beautiful things are yours’: country houses and the Youth Hostel Association

Matthew Beckett - The Country Seat2 Comments

The melancholy history of the English country house in the twentieth century has often been written as one of loss and rescue: the long decline of landed society, the tragic demolitions of the inter- and post-war years, the rise of preservation campaigns, and the eventual intervention of organisations such as the National Trust. Scholars have understandably concentrated on ownership, architecture, collections, and the struggle to secure survival. Yet one important chapter has remained curiously overlooked. From the 1930s onwards, the Youth Hostels Association occupied dozens of country houses, often at the precise moment when their future stood in doubt. Rather than being museums or carefully interpreted heritage attractions, these were working buildings filled with cyclists, walkers, school groups, and young travellers who cooked in former servants’ quarters, slept beneath plaster ceilings and oak beams, and passed casually through spaces once reserved for a narrow social world. In scale alone, the movement represented one of the largest and least remarked encounters between ordinary people and the architecture of the country house before the great expansion of post-war heritage tourism.

Riftswood Hall, Yorkshire (aka YHA Saltburn) – bought in 1937 for £1,500 by the YHA’s Wear, Tees and Eskdale group and opened the same year. Closed and sold off in 1992. (Image from a private collection). More info

The crisis of the country house in the early 20th-century stripped bare the function of the country house. When worsening circumstances emptied the house of it’s people, social life, and contents, what remained but an empty building? Yet, in those dark periods when the fate of so many country houses was abandonment and dereliction, a new social movement, the Youth Hostel Association, helped take these houses from private use into the hands of young people who had no particular interest in preserving them but who valued them for their primary function; that of a place of shelter and companionship. In doing so, these encounters, however incidental – and often overlooked in the broader history of the country house – may have helped foster a broader sense of familiarity with the historic environment, one that quietly underpinned later sympathy towards the country house, even where the buildings themselves did not survive.

Even by the 1930s, public access to the country house remained comparatively limited. The National Trust, though already established as a guardian of coastline, commons, and historic buildings, possessed only a small number of substantial houses and had only cautiously begun to engage with the mounting crisis affecting the great estates. The establishment of their Country Houses Committee in 1936 marked an important shift, but the large-scale transfer of country houses into public ownership belonged chiefly to the post-war decades. By contrast, the Youth Hostels Association had already begun placing thousands of young people inside such buildings, not as visitors escorted through selected rooms, but as temporary inhabitants. They cooked in former service quarters, slept beneath carved ceilings and oak beams, and moved freely through houses which still retained much of the atmosphere of private occupation.

Escape to the country

The attraction of the countryside as a place of moral and physical renewal long pre-dated the youth hostel movement. By the early twentieth century, industrialisation and rapid urban growth had sharpened the sense that the English countryside represented something increasingly fragile and distinct from modern urban life. Organisations such as the Council for the Preservation of Rural England, founded in 1926, emerged from growing concern over uncontrolled development and the erosion of traditional landscapes. Writers, architects, and reformers alike increasingly treated the countryside not simply as scenery, but as an essential part of national character.

This belief carried particular force in discussions surrounding youth and recreation. Access to fresh air, exercise, and open country was widely regarded as socially beneficial, especially for those growing up in industrial towns and cities. Walking and cycling acquired a moral dimension beyond leisure alone, encouraging independence, health, and fellowship. Such ideas were not confined to Britain. Across Germany and central Europe, youth movements had already embraced long-distance walking and communal outdoor activity as an antidote to urban modernity and rigid social convention.

Rock Hall, Northumberland – a youth hostel (leased from the Bosanquet family) from 1948-1991 (Image from a private collection)

The country house occupied an ambiguous position within this landscape. Built to command extensive estates and often deliberately isolated from towns and villages, these houses embodied both privilege and retreat. Yet by the interwar years many had become increasingly difficult to sustain. Their scale, designed for large households and armies of servants, proved highly adaptable to institutional occupation. At the time when youth hostelling sought inexpensive accommodation in the countryside, the country house crisis was producing a supply of large, now vacant buildings whose original purpose had been undermined and were searching for a future.

Where Youth Hostels began

Founded in 1930, the Youth Hostel Association drew its inspiration from the continental model but quickly assumed a character shaped by English conditions.

Youth hostels were an idea conceived by the German school teacher but were a solution to a problem which had been the result of the new youth movement which had grown in popularity at the turn of the nineteenth-century. In central Europe, there had long been a tradition of purposeful roaming, seeking work and new opportunities. Around 1900 a new group – ‘Wandervögel‘ or Wanderbirds – rapidly flourished. In an era of strict social and societal hierarchies and expectations, and industrialisation, the idea took hold of mixed groups of young people freely wandering about the countryside, mountains, and forests. Carrying their supplies and accommodation, they mainly slept outdoors and lived a fairly itinerant lifestyle, mixing their wandering with working to sustain themselves.

Youth hostels as a concept were not a direct result of the Wandervögel but they tapped into a romantic, anti-urban mindset which combined a desire to experience nature with a wish to enable children from cities and towns to do so. Given the lack of places to play and explore, German schoolteachers often took their students on walks which might last an afternoon – or up to two weeks. Given the overnight requirements of the extended ‘tramps’, as they called their longer walks, one German teacher, Richard Schirrmann, naturally was concerned about finding suitable overnight accommodation as open air camping wasn’t suitable for younger children, and larger groups struggled to find somewhere big enough or cheap enough.

Schirrmann took matters into his own hands. From as early as 1907, he adapted the school in which he taught at Altena, in north-eastern Germany, rearranging classrooms to provide dormitory accommodation during the holidays, and establishing a system that was at once economical, orderly, and replicable. His initiative demonstrated that the problem was not one of demand but of organisation: buildings already existed which, with minimal alteration, could be pressed into temporary service. The subsequent development of the youth hostel movement in Germany, and later in Britain, followed this principle closely. In the early stages, purpose-built structures were neither necessary nor financially viable; instead, the reuse of existing buildings offered flexibility, speed of expansion, and the ability to respond to local conditions. In this way, adaptation rather than construction became the defining characteristic of the movement’s formative years.

The dawn of the YHA

Founded in 1930, the Youth Hostels Association sought to provide simple, inexpensive accommodation that would open up the countryside to a wider public, particularly the young, responding to the changes in working conditions as the six-day working week gave way to greater leisure time. In Germany, their principles of accommodation were determinedly modern, echoing the mood of the Bauhaus sweeping through the country. Richard Schirrmann held strong views, stating that ‘Buildings must be constructed to accommodate youth, the rising generation, simple and functional, easily ventilated, yet retaining the warmth, pleasant to live in, beautiful…’.

By contrast, in Britain, expansion was rapid but achieved despite little capital investment. Instead, the Association relied on local initiative, voluntary effort, and a readiness to adapt existing buildings. Hostellers arrived on foot or by bicycle, cooked their own meals, and slept in rooms never designed for such use, treating their surroundings not as heritage but as accommodation.

This practical approach soon led to the adoption of larger buildings. The interwar country house crisis produced a supply of vacant or underused houses that offered an immediate solution to the Association’s needs. Reuse was less a matter of choice than necessity: new building was prohibitively expensive, while the movement’s ethos favoured frugality over permanence. As a result, young people found themselves inhabiting houses that had previously been distant and exclusive, making them ordinary through use.

Maeshafn, Wales – opened as a purpose-built hostel in 1931, closed permanently in 2005 and now a private home (Image from a private collection)

Despite the German example, few purpose-built hostels were built, primarily due to the cost, but also due to a particular British mindset which embraced and mythlogised the ‘spartan’ approach. Yet, some were built – but they strengthened the hand of those who favoured adaptation and reuse. One of the earliest examples, opening in 1931, was the hostel at Maeshafn in Wales. Designed by the fashionable architect, Clough Williams-Ellis (of Portmerion fame), the wooden structure mixed Italianate and Mediterranean styles, with bold, colourful decoration; the blue doors to the dormitories contrasting with the bright yellow of the common room walls. Inevitably, it exceeded the budget, costing £900 in total to accommodate a maximum of 52 members a night, whilst Hartington Hall cost £100 to make ready, and even the much larger Ilam Hall cost only £500. The YHA had secured funding from the Carnagie Trust to expand the network by creating four, purpose-built ‘demonstration’ hostels, but the bill for Holmbury St Mary came to £2,500 and the verdict from one of the legendary early wardens, Berta Gough, was that it was ‘a very beautiful hostel, but rather overdone. So much money had been spent on it!’. The YHA were equally aghast and reported back to the Carnagie Trust that funding should be spent buying or renting existing buildings and adapting them to their needs.

A very big house in the country

Large houses, with their ample rooms and service infrastructure, could be adapted with minimal intervention to accommodate significant numbers of hostellers. In this way, the reuse of existing buildings became not only the preferred option but the defining characteristic of early YHA expansion, embedding the movement within a wider pattern of architectural adaptation during a period of profound social change. The period of the 1930s-50s is particularly instructive because the YHA policy and acquisition criteria explains the presence of so many large country houses in early hostel use as a deliberate consequence of policy, finance, and ideology in the 1930s.

The circumstances under which the Youth Hostel Association came to occupy so many substantial country houses were, in the main, practical rather than strategic. Before the 1960s, outright purchase of any hostel building was rare. Instead, the Association relied on a fluid and economical pattern of tenure: short leases secured at modest rents, buildings loaned for temporary use, or informal agreements reached with owners and trustees keen to see otherwise empty houses kept in occupation. This arrangement suited both parties. For the country house owner, it offered a measure of security at a moment of uncertainty, reducing the risk of vandalism, providing a degree of caretaking, and in some instances easing the financial burden of an unoccupied property. For the YHA, it avoided the need for capital investment and allowed for rapid expansion. Many of these houses were, by this stage, already in a state of transition, recently vacated, awaiting sale, or simply too large to sustain. Their use as hostels was often understood, tacitly, to be temporary, which goes some way to explaining the provisional character that attaches to so many of them in retrospect.

Hemingford House, Warwickshire (aka YHA Stratford-upon-Avon) – a youth hostel since 1947 (Image from a private collection)

That these buildings could be so readily adapted owed much to their inherent planning. The country house, particularly in its 18th- and 19th-century forms, lent itself remarkably well to institutional reuse. A multiplicity of bedrooms could be converted into dormitories with little difficulty; service wings provided a natural means of separation for staff and, where required, for men and women; kitchens designed for large households proved more than adequate for communal catering; and the principal rooms, stripped of their original function, served easily as shared spaces. Alterations were generally modest, limited to the introduction of bunk beds, basic washing facilities, and such safety measures as were deemed necessary at the time. It is no coincidence that houses of this period predominate within the early YHA network. Earlier buildings, with their more irregular plans and constrained accommodation, were less easily pressed into service, whereas the later country house, built for scale and efficiency, proved unexpectedly well suited to a new, collective way of inhabiting space.

‘Mansion hotels’

Each YHA region developed a distinct geographical sphere of activity. Members from Birmingham, for example, were drawn westwards into the landscapes of Wales, while the North Midlands Group found itself exceptionally well-placed, with the Peak District quite literally on its doorstep. This proximity proved significant. The group emerged as one of the most enterprising within the movement, playing a leading role in broadening the range and character of accommodation, and in extending youth hostelling beyond its earliest, more rudimentary forms. The North Midlands group were also fortunate to have as their Regional Secretary a man highly adept at navigating the local networks: Mr Laurence Ramsbottom.

As a man who felt that the beauty of the countryside was a cause worth fighting for, Laurence Ramsbottom wasted no opportunity or angle from which he could put the case for the amenities and benefits of the open air. His passion and pragmatism led him to champion a form of accommodation of which there were many – and many were in dire need of a new purpose: the country house. Their size was their inherent advantage in that they could comfortably include over a hundred beds, far more than many other hostels, which then encouraged visits from groups such as schools (which neatly aligned with Richard Schirrmann’s original vision).

Hartington Hall, Derbyshire – a youth hostel since 1934 (Image from a private collection)

In the Midlands in the 1930s, sadly many country houses were desperately seeking new owners or tenants – or awaiting demolition. One of the first to find a new life – and one it still enjoys today – is Hartington Hall. Built in 1611 by Hugh Bateman, the H-plan house was substantially altered and enlarged in 1862 for Thomas Osborne Bateman. It remained in the family until it was taken over by the YHA, opening in Easter 1932, having been modernised with electricity and central heating.

Not far from Hartington Hall stood another house that, though always intended as a temporary arrangement, was arguably the most magnificent building ever to serve as a youth hostel. Derwent Hall, built in 1672 and once a residence of the Dukes of Norfolk, had been purchased in 1920 from Viscount Fitzalan of Derwent by the Derwent Valley Water Board in preparation for a major flooding scheme for what would become Ladybower Reservoir. Since such large public works would take around a decade to complete, Laurence Ramsbottom recognised a rare opportunity to ensure that such a fine property did not stand empty in the meantime.

Ramsbottom met with the Derwent Water Board, offered rental of £50 a year – and was accepted. The Manchester and North Midlands Groups joined forces to meet the challenge, with North Midlands members raising the £50 annual rent – beyond the group’s immediate resources – by paying life memberships in advance. Still needing funds to adapt and equip the hall, they approached the Manchester group. Jointly, the members of both groups formed the necessary working parties to clean the house, which at that point had uninhabited for seven years, and decorate and furnish it, providing a total of 130 beds.

Derwent Hall, Derbyshire – a youth hostel from 1932 until it 1939 when it requisitioned and then later demolished in 1944 for the construction of the Ladybower reservoir (Image from a private collection)

Although it officially opened in 1932, a diary entry from October 1931 by Bertha Gough, a legend in the early history of the YHA, recalled that “Although the hostel is a very beautiful one, the self-cookers’ room and equipment was terrible.“. Much work clearly needed to be done to make it ready for the wider membership.

With strenuous effort, in June 1932, its doors were formally opened to hostellers by the Prince of Wales, who declared that “It is of immense benefit, particularly to those who are forced to lead dreary lives, that they should be able to get out here to this beautiful spot.“.

Less snobbily, a year later, Laurence Ramsbottom reflected in an article in The Rucksack (the YHA official magazine) that,

‘It challenged Youth to a great trust in taking possession of the first of our fine old mansions, with many of its treasures, in the shape of magnificent oak panelling and beautiful gardens, still intact. In effect, it said to Youth, ‘these beautiful things are yours; learn about them, care for them, and treasure them. Take the lesson with you in to the countryside and cherish that too with the same affectionate regard.’

Their faith in the conduct of the hostellers seemed to be well-placed. Although there was a fear that giving access to historic houses might put them at risk of vandalism, when Oliver Coburn was reflecting on the first 21 years of the YHA, he disagreed. In his opinion, ‘…the standard of behaviour in the Peak District countryside is better now than the present generation has known. Derwent Hall has become a great influence.‘.

After Derwent and Hartington Halls, other country houses followed with Overton Hall opening in 1933, and Ilam Hall, Ravenstor, Bennetston Hall, Tor Dale and Leam Hall, also becoming part of the regional network.

Leam Hall, Derbyshire – opened in 1939, closed in 1970 (Image from a private collection)

Ilam Hall might have been the crown jewel if only the YHA had been able to take it on earlier. A particularly fine house, it was originally the seat of the medieval Booth family, and then passed by marriage in the 18th century to the Port family. The main house was a Gothic Revival rebuilding of the 1820s-30s by the architect John Shaw, commissioned by Jesse Watts Russell, who remodelled the estate village and park in a picturesque style. In 1927 the estate was sold to Edward Backhouse, who attempted to run it as a hotel and pleasure grounds, but the venture failed. The property was then sold to a demolition company, and significant parts of the house – including many principal rooms and decorative features – were lost.

The surviving structure, largely the former service wing, was rescued and restored through the intervention of Sir Robert McDougall (of McDougall’s flour) and John Cadbury (of Cadbury’s chocolate). In 1932 the remaining c.84 acres and the house were given to the National Trust, with the stipulation that it be used by the Youth Hostels Association. The building, now only about a third of its original size, has continuously operated as a youth hostel since the mid-1930s. In 1937, Cadbury was also responsible for finding the Elizabethan Wilderhope Manor in Shropshire, which he again donated to the National Trust on the understanding that it be only used as a youth hostel.

Ilam Hall, Derbyshire – the truncated remains which now form the YHA accommodation (Image from a private collection)

An indication of the enthusiasm for the new opportunities can be gauged by how quickly the number of hostels grew. The concept of ‘adopted hostels’ was crucial to the expansion with privately-owned locations being included in the YHA network as long as they met certain standards. The YHA was formed in April 1930 and in Easter 1931 there were 11 hostels but by March 1932 this has grown to 100 – though a quarter of these were in farms or repurposed farm buidlings. By 1936, over 160 more had become available taking the total to 262 hostels, and by 1939 the network extended to 297 hostels with a capacity of 10,689 beds – but crucially, of those, only 24 were owned by the YHA with another 30 formally leased.

Many others were smaller properties, sometimes affiliated on a short-term basis, but the larger properties provided substantial accommodation to bolster the capacity in key areas. However, the houses were still large historic buildings and inevitably the same issues which had often led to their disuse were also a challenge to the YHA. As Oliver Coburn noted, the YHA faced challenges in maintaining the extensive grounds which often came as part of the gift. Whilst it was central to the hostellers’ ethos to spend time maintaining the buildings, it was beyond the volunteers resources to mow acres of lawn and care for dozens of plants.

The tide turns

Although the willingness to accept substantial historic property addressed the rapidly increasing demand, it was also laying the seeds of larger problems later on. As any owner of a historic house will attest, the costs of running one are substantial and only increase. As the attitudes of their members moved away from embracing, or even just accepting, simplicity and spartan conditions, their expectations as to the quality of their accommodation and the amenities provided moved in step with the new comforts they enjoyed at home. By the 1960s, the YHA was competing with foreign travel and higher domestic living standards and faced a serious challenge to provide the funding necessary to not only maintain the properties but also upgrade for the next generation.

The very buildings that had made expansion possible now became a financial burden. Vast houses designed for wealthy families and numerous servants were expensive to heat, maintain, and modernise. For the YHA, the challenge was no longer simply to provide beds in the countryside, but to reconcile its founding ideals of economy and accessibility with the mounting costs of preserving and upgrading an ageing estate. What had once seemed an almost inexhaustible supply of magnificent accommodation increasingly revealed itself as an increasing liability. Many of the houses that had given the movement its distinctive character now stood at the centre of a difficult question: whether an organisation created to provide affordable access to the countryside could also afford to remain the custodian of some of its grandest buildings.

Longlands Hall, Yorkshire (aka YHA Haworth) – opening in 1976 but sold and now an independent hostel (Image from a private collection)

The YHA reached a peak in 1950 of 303 hostels. In 2023, it was reported that the YHA was looking to rationalise their network further, with the disposal of 20 YHA sites plus 13 affiliated ‘network’ properties. This included the 89-bed ‘Longlands Hall’, aka YHA Haworth, a large Victorian Gothic house built in 1884 for mill owner Edwin Robinson Merrall, which the YHA had acquired In the 1970s, opening in 1976. Another example was Castleton Hall, Derbyshire, located in Castleton. A surprisingly assertive Georgian house, its severe limestone walls transformed by a swaggering Baroque frontage of giant pilasters, heavy pediments and boldly cut stonework. The substantial doorway, monumental window surrounds and emphatic classical detailing lend an almost palatial character to what is essentially a Yorkshire country house. It’s use as a hostel was strongly in the tradition of how the YHA once operated – but following a review, it was sold in 2015. However, as an example that the country house tradition was not totally lost, the gap in the network was replaced by Losehill Hall, situated just outside Castleton.

Although the YHA network is much reduced, down to 73 directly-owned locations, over 810,000 guests stayed in YHA accommodation in 2024-25. Despite smaller group and solo traveller preferences increasingly rejecting the dormitory accommodation, larger properties help meet social impact objectives such as enabling groups of young people to experience the countryside. This means properties such as Ilam Hall, have remained but the latest network strategy has continued to shrink coverage, with other older locations such as Trafford Hall, Chester, being more at risk due to their higher running and maintenance costs.

Conclusion

In these years, the country house became, for a time, neither a symbol of aristocratic continuity nor an object of heritage reverence, but something far more prosaic. It was a place to sleep after a long day’s walking, to brew tea in cavernous kitchens designed for battalions of servants, to dry sodden boots beneath ceilings once intended to impress. Drawing rooms became dormitories; servants’ corridors echoed with laughter rather than whispers. The architectural language of hierarchy was not erased, but it was translated into something more democratic – and in many cases, more affectionate. This mass occupation gave generations of young explorers a means to explore the world and broaden their horizons.

On such powerful memories, the role of the houses was both central but also ancillary – admiring these houses was not the purpose of their visit, but the parts they played created a powerful backdrop to these formative phases of their lives. With such strong associations, it is perhaps little surprise that the walkers of the early- to mid-twentieth century may have been a fertile ground on which to plant the seeds of heritage preservation. The fruits of this germination may well have contributed to the wider preservation of the country house as a national institution, not only those available to the public, but as a cultural touchstone which can still be felt today.

Castleton Hall, Derbyshire – this hostel replaced Derwent Hall and was open from 1937 until 2012 and is now a private residence. This house is the genesis for this article having walked past it in 2021 and wondered about the history and discovering it had once been a youth hostel. (Image taken by Matthew Beckett)

Acknowledgements

I am deeply indebted to Duncan Simpson, former YHA Head of Corporate Affairs and house warden, for his excellent book – ‘Open to All‘ and his wonderfully helpful website, ‘Simply Hostels‘. Both are a wealth of resources on his experiences working for the YHA and the history of the organisation. His website also hosts an invaluable archive of hostel profiles written by John Martin, YHA’s volunteer archivist.

Select bibliography

Other resouces

The growing silence: how many UK country houses were lost?

Matthew Beckett - The Country Seat5 Comments

Slowly, then suddenly, many estates grew silent. Carriages no longer clattered down the drives. Entrance halls no longer echoed to voices. Kitchens went cold. Staff quarters were emptied. Then, the contents were sent to the auctioneers. Finally, the house was broken apart; hammers and pickaxes the new sounds as hundreds of years of history were reduced to rubble.

One key questions which architectural historians have been trying to answer for a number of years is just how many UK country houses have been lost? The answer, for now, is over three thousand. Each was a world on its own, but also part of the complex jigsaw of our national heritage.

Heath Old Hall, Yorkshire
Wilton Park, Buckinghamshire
Eaton Hall, Cheshire
Lindridge Park, Devon
Stoke Edith, Herefordshire
Belvedere, Kent
Flixton Hall, Suffolk

The genesis for this area of research was ‘The Destruction of the Country House‘ exhibition, which ran from 9 October – 1 December 1974 at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. I have written about it on a number of occasions so if you would like more insights into it, you can read my article on the 40th anniversary or my reflections on the 50th anniversary.

The position of the landed elites was considered the bedrock of society. The families provided political leadership, social aspiration, and were the centre of the local economy through their employment and expenditure. Land ownership was the passport to this elite status; the open market a safety valve which enabled ‘new money’ to mix with the old, to want to emulate them rather than remove them. This allowed new families to fluidly move up from merely wealthy to established gentry or nobility. After a few generations, the land functioned as an older form of ‘green-washing’, the verdant parkland obscuring where the family had started. Within a few short centuries (though sometimes it was just decades), they had become the elite.

Rounton Grange, Yorkshire – seat of the Bell baronets, of Rounton Grange and Washington Hall (1885). House demolished 1954.

However, the first half of the twentieth century was, for the owner of these large houses, often financially, socially, and politically challenging. The repeal of the Corn Laws in 1846, which opened our markets to cheaper overseas produce, combined with the agricultural depressions of the latter-half of the nineteenth century, had undermined many of the assumptions about the financing of the country house. As debts grew, so the stark financial reality of the situation they were in began to dawn. For many, the path to recovery seemed to be to sell non-core assets such as artworks or outlying estates and hope that this would tide them over until their incomes, usually agricultural, recovered. For those who sold their land early and invested in the stock market, the crash of 1929, was another blow to their planning. As is so often the case, the markets remained against them longer than they could remain solvent.

When Aldous Huxley published his first novel, ‘Crome Yellow‘, in 1921, the challenge to the country house was already significant enough to feature as the fate of the imaginary Gobley Great Park;

‘A stately Georgian pile, with a façade sixteen windows wide; parterres in the foreground; huge, smooth lawns receding out of the picture to right and left. Ten more years of the hard times and Gobley, and all its peers, will be deserted and decaying. Fifty years, and the countryside will know the old landmarks no more. They will have vanished as the monasteries vanished before them.’.

Thankfully, Huxley’s apocalyptic vision wasn’t fully to come to pass. However, from the relatively low levels of losses in the nineteenth-century, the twentieth-century would bring decade after decade of destruction. It’s worth remembering that this was largely a crisis of the country house, not the wider estate. The land was considered more valuable as an income-generating asset and for the social prestige it conferred. Without the expense of the house – the maintenance, the staff, the general running costs – so the income was better able to meet their expenditures. Mr Micawber would be beaming with pride.

So, when seeking to bring their expenditure within the available income, the house was considered a necessary sacrifice. And with so many other families also facing a similar situation, the loss of any one house would be obscured by the loss of so many others. The problem with simple data is that it belies the dramatic local impact the loss of a house would have been. The country house and its estate embodied the idea of stability. The idea of a family owning the house and land and passing it down through the generations was – and arguably still is – embedded firmly in our national psyche, even if the family did change every few hundred years. The key difference in the twentieth-century was that there was often no other family to take their place.

In this dark era, houses languished on the market. This was often evidenced by adverts for the same properties appearing with sad regularity in magazines such as Country Life. It brought reminders of the increasing threats to the established order of the countryside into the drawing rooms and libraries of those most at risk.

Typical advert in Country Life magazine. Key aspects to note: the house is unnamed (though I think it is the infamous Burwell Hall, demolished in 1958), the language emphasises cheapness: ‘moderate price’, ‘modern conveniences’, ‘inexpensive gardens’. (Advert from Country Life, 10 November 1923, pg. XIII)

Each week, beyond the adverts in Country Life, ‘The Estate Market’ page offered a running commentary on the changes. For example, the headline for that page on May 5th 1922, was stark: ‘Demand for small properties’, with the opening paragraph stating, ‘The brightest section of the market is that in which the smaller properties are dealt with…’. Coverage includes the sale of Sudbourne Hall, Suffolk, saying it had sold with 500 acres, having first been offered as a whole but failing to find a buyer, it had been split up. The house was later demolished in 1953.

Another paragraph is headed ‘Mansions as sanatoria’ and writes approvingly of how Lords Londonderry and Boyne have both ‘generously offered’ Seaham Hall and Brancepeth Castle respectively for ‘hospital purposes’. Specifically, it states that Seaham Hall ‘…has had to be closed in consequence of taxation and the heavy cost of upkeep.’ (it survived and is now a hotel). It also mentions that Rendlesham Hall, Suffolk, has been sold for use as a ‘…retreat for drug-addicts and inebriates…’. It was also later demolished in 1949.

Sudbourne Hall, Suffolk, demolished in 1953 (Source: www.lostheritage.org.uk | More images)

During the nineteenth-century, the available data shows that there were fewer losses; approximately one a year. However, when considering the data, there are a few caveats to remember. Critically, the data for the nineteenth-century is thinner than the twentieth-century. Fewer books had been produced, research was sparse, and even confirming if a property was of sufficient stature to be classed as a country house is sometimes challenging. Fire and replacement by a new house were two of the most common reasons.

So how many have been lost?

Quoted in The Daily Telegraph magazine in 2007, the leading country house historian of the lost houses, the late John Harris, said that:

‘At the time [before the V&A exhibition], we reckoned that about 750 houses [in the UK] had been pulled down between 1880 and 1970. Now we know it’s about 1,800.’1

Sadly, John’s estimate was still too low – 1,800 doesn’t even cover England alone.

The gazetteer at the back of ‘The Destruction of the Country House‘ exhibition catalogue listed a total of 1,099 houses (740 for England, 313 Scotland, 46 Wales, with NI not included). This list had been compiled by John, Marcus Binney, and another researcher, Peter Reid, and explicitly stated it was not exhaustive. The total for England was updated with the publication in 2002 of ‘England’s Lost Houses‘ by Giles Worsley which added 445, to total 1,185 for England. However, Ian Gow’s ‘Scotland’s Lost Houses‘ in 2006 listed only 308 (5 fewer than before) but also included examples of houses in cities (which I have excluded from that total).

The task of taking the ground-breaking earlier research forward and to resurrect the memory of these otherwise obscured houses, has now been taken up by amateur enthusiasts, supported by the invaluable work of historians who have focused on specific areas. I started researching the English lost houses in 2006, compiling what I hoped would become the most comprehensive record. All the details, including detailed histories and thousands of images, are shared on the Lost Heritage website.

Using the same model, this was followed over the years by Dr Alastair Disley for Scotland, Dr Mark Baker for Wales, and Andrew Triggs for Northern Ireland (he also took on the much larger task of the Republic of Ireland).

Distribution of English lost country houses since 1800. Source: Matthew Beckett / www.lostheritage.org.uk

The scorecard of architectural losses

Each of these personal efforts has significantly increased the totals of lost houses with Scotland now standing at 545 (Disley), 390 for Wales (Baker), and 100 for Northern Ireland (Triggs – a particular achievement as they hadn’t been tallied previously).

The total number of lost houses for England alone has now exceeded John Harris’ original estimate for the whole of UK, having reached 2,019 (as at November 2024).

Overall, we can be confident that the number of UK country houses lost since 1800 now totals a remarkable 3,054.

Why does this matter? These houses and their particularly grand and hierarchical era and way of living has gone. It died, not in our leafy lanes, but in the battles and social change of the World Wars. The changes forced an evolution – and in that process, there are winners and losers. The tragedy was that the losers were often not inherently weaker houses, and in so many cases, they were some of the most interesting and significant. Beyond the random losses from fire and environmental causes, often what determined whether a house survived was their owners and their circumstances. For some, they were determined to ensure that the houses were reborn, albeit in a new way of living. For others, they were equally determined that that they would not pass what they saw as a burden to another generation.

In the specific losses to a family, and a locality, and to our architectural heritage, they were to be lamented. But in all of them, they possessed something of our shared heritage, and their loss, and the losses of the future, are pieces of the national jigsaw of our identity. As Simon Jenkins said, ‘Through them we hear the echo of our collective selves – and remember who we are.’2. We remember these parts of our history through the memory of these houses, and the roles they played in the life of our nation, both locally and nationally.

Request for help

If anyone has any further information on the lost country houses of England – either history, dates for losses, or family photos or recollections – please do contact me.

References:

1 – Campbell, Sophie, ‘Brideshead Detonated’ Telegraph Magazine, 20/01/2007
2 – Jenkins, Simon, ‘England’s Thousand Best Houses‘ (Penguin, 2004), vii

New Series: The Country House Revealed – South Wraxall Manor, Wiltshire

Matthew Beckett - The Country Seat14 Comments

South Wraxall Manor, Wiltshire (Image: Traumahawk / flickr)
South Wraxall Manor, Wiltshire (Image: Traumahawk / flickr)

In contrast to the weekly dramas of Country House Rescue, a new series starting on the BBC, presented by the excitable Dan Cruickshank, looks at some of the finest homes in ‘The Country House Revealed – A Secret History of the British Ancestral Home‘.  The series promises a look behind the estate wall at some homes which have never been open to the public, giving us a rare chance to glimpse houses which enjoy secure, well-funded ownership and demonstrating that the fears of those who thought these houses would never be sustainable have been thankfully proved wrong.

The first in the series (broadcast 10 May on BBC2 at 21:00) visits South Wraxall Manor in Wiltshire; a house which matches a beautiful exterior with impressive interiors dominated by some of the finest chimneypieces and period rooms in the country.  The house was originally built for Robert Long who made a fortune in cloth in the early 15th-century before becoming an MP in 1433, around which time it is thought the core of the house was started.  As was befitting a rich MP, he was keen to show his status and as was often the case with the gentry, his home was the main platform with which to show off his wealth and erudition, creating one of the finest houses in the country today.

England, at the time work started at South Wraxall Manor, was feeling the influence of the Italian Renaissance and elements of the new fashions were often incorporated into the best homes, though often adapted for our native traditions and styles.  This use of wider influences was also a symptom of the gradual shift in power as major building projects were increasingly commissioned by wealthy gentry rather than the Church or Royal Court.  Maurice Howard also highlights that although the Court was highly competitive which might have led to a single architectural style being favoured, in fact, the houses we still have show how tenacious local styles were.

Chimneypiece c.1600, South Wraxall Manor (Image: (c) Nicholas Cooper)
Chimneypiece c.1600, South Wraxall Manor (Image: (c) Nicholas Cooper)

This continuation of the vernacular can be seen in the architectural vocabulary used by those commissioning the houses, drawing still strongly on ecclesiastical traditions.  Reading the full listing description for South Wraxall one might almost believe it to be a local church or monastery – windows with Perpendicular tracery, buttresses, even gargoyles.  The house was significantly remodelled around 1600, creating what John Julius Norwich calls ‘one of the major Jacobean rooms in all England‘.  A vast west window floods the room with light and is matched by one at the other end of the room, providing the illumination to highlight a most impressive fireplaces – a colossal, florid statement of importance.

Each generation of the Long family added to the house, with additional wings and chimneypieces, and extending the estate.  As with other such early houses which have survived subsequent centuries without ‘modernisation’, this was due to a small element of luck in that it was inherited by a branch of the Long family in 1814 who were already well established at Rood Ashton House, Wiltshire (largely demolished c.1950) meaning the house was often rented out.  The house let between 1820-26 and served time as a boys school, before the 1st Viscount Long took over c.1880 following his election as a local MP.  Viscount Long undid much of the damage caused during its time as a school when the linenfold panelling had been painted over and the ornate ceilings plastered over, however he never really took up residence there.  The house was let for the rest of the 19th-century and the early 20th, before the 2nd Viscount Long moved in in 1935.  Used to house refugees in WWII, the family again lived there before finally selling up in 1966, ending over 500-years of family ownership.

South Wraxall then entered a rather uncertain period, until it was bought by a businessman with plans to turn it into a country house hotel but who had some issues with the local planning authority over unauthorised changes (for example, I think he glassed in the loggia without permission).  The house was up for sale again in 2003 for £6.5m after the businessman abandoned his plans.  After languishing on the market for a couple of years – probably due to the extent of the restoration required – it was bought by the current owners: John Taylor (bass player with the band Duran Duran) and his wife Gela Nash (founder of the fashion house Juicy Couture) who apparently have done an excellent and sympathetic job of the repairs, thus rescuing a house that is a quintessential example of an English manor house.

Full listing description: ‘South Wraxall Manor‘ [British Listed Buildings]

Further information: ‘South Wraxall Manor‘ [Wikipedia]

Book of the series: ‘The Country House Revealed‘ [Waterstones]

Rest of the series

This looks to be a fascinating set of programmes – for reference the other houses featured are:

How to get depressed quickly: the English Heritage Buildings at Risk Register 2010

Matthew Beckett - The Country Seat4 Comments

Winstanley Hall, Lancashire (Image: English Heritage)
Winstanley Hall, Lancashire (Image: English Heritage)

This blog has highlighted several country houses which are at risk but the true scale of the issue is unfortunately much larger, as the publication of the 2010 English Heritage Buildings at Risk Register shows.

Country houses all too easily can move from being secure, watertight buildings to having minor problems to becoming seriously at risk due to their size and the high standards required to repair them necessarily making even simple tasks much more expensive.  For the owners this can mean that the burden of looking after their ancestral family home becomes a daily challenge which, rather than facing, can be easier to ignore – especially if they are able to simply shut the door to a wing and forget the damp and leaks.

One of the greatest enemies of the country house is obscurity – particularly when combined with negligent or incapable owners. For some the house is merely an obstacle to redevelopment and so it is in their interest to forgo maintenance and hope that the house quickly and quietly deteriorates to the point where they can apply for permission to demolish.  Unfortunately under-resourced councils are rarely able to regularly survey all the listed buildings in the area meaning that houses can slip through the cracks.  The current economic climate means that it is even more unlikely that councils will be able to fully fund the heritage teams to ensure that they are able to ensure owners meet their obligations.

Melton Constable Hall, Norfolk (Image: English Heritage)
Melton Constable Hall, Norfolk (Image: English Heritage)

Although English Heritage have had some limited successes (e.g. Sockburn Hall, County Durham) there are still far too many houses at risk – I counted nearly 100 in a couple of searches.  It should be noted that houses are included even where works are planned or under way such as at Clarendon House, Wiltshire which was recently sold (with estate) for a reputed £30m and where restoration is expected to be completed by the end of 2010).  However, other examples include:

Others on the list include:

The head of English Heritage, Simon Thurley, said at the launch:

“Neglect is a slow, insidious process whose costly damage takes time to become clearly visible. Cuts in both private and public spending are currently inevitable but armed with our Heritage at Risk Register, English Heritage is well-equipped to guard against the loss of the nation’s greatest treasures and to suggest effective and economical strategies to protect our national heritage.”

One can only hope that this proves to be the case and that EH are able to fully fulfil their role particularly in relation to country houses and ensure that these beautiful buildings aren’t allowed to quietly slip into dereliction, depriving future generations of wonder of these grand houses.

More details: English Heritage Buildings at Risk 2010 or you can search the 2010 Register

Anyone with deep pockets? Country houses at risk today

Matthew Beckett - The Country Seat1 Comment

It seems remarkable that between the popularity of country houses as tourist attractions or business or simply as homes that any would be at risk.  Yet as the 2010 SAVE Britain’s Heritage Building’s at Risk Register shows there are still a broad selection of fine houses which, for various reasons, are in need of someone with a desire to restore part of our heritage, lots of dedication, and pretty deep pockets.

Nocton Hall, Lincolnshire (photo copyright: Tom Vaughan)
Nocton Hall, Lincolnshire (photo copyright: Tom Vaughan)

One of the saddest is the case of Nocton Hall in Lincolnshire – a county which has lost so many of it’s fine old country houses already.  Fire is still one of the main reasons a house can quickly go from being a secure home to an ‘at risk’ shell.  Grade-II listed Nocton Hall is a warm honey-coloured stone house built for the 1st Earl of Ripon in 1841 to replace the original Jacobean house which burnt down in 1834.  After a stint as an RAF hospital in WWII it became a residential home before being bought by a property developer.  Unfortunately no development took place and the house was allowed to slowly deteriorate before a serious fire severely damaged what had been a perfectly good house.  Still sitting in its own gardens and parkland and near the village Nocton Hall cries out to be restored either as a h,otel or ideally as a grand family home.

Barmoor Castle, Northumberland (Photo: SAVE Britain's Heritage)
Barmoor Castle, Northumberland (Photo: SAVE Britain's Heritage)

To look at the photo, Barmoor Castle in Northumberland looks in pretty good shape – but a picture can hide as much as it shows.  The first issue with Barmoor is that it actually is unused and sits in the middle of a caravan park which has been established in the grounds. Inside, there is some water damage as the roof has been leaking – although recent work, part funded by English Heritage, has alleviated this for the moment. Barmoor was built in 1801 around an older tower by the architect John Patterson of Edinburgh in a castellated Gothic Revival style for Francis Sitwell, in whose family it remained until 1979 when it was sold along with 200-acres.  The current owners have operated the caravan park since then but didn’t live in the house or use it leading to it’s current neglected state.  This is a classic example of where a house could be rescued from an inappropriate use, restored and enjoyed as a fine country house as was intended.

St Botolph's Mansion, Wales (Image: SAVE Britain's Heritage)
St Botolph's Mansion, Wales (Image: SAVE Britain's Heritage)

St Botolphs Mansion in Pembrokeshire was built in the early 1800’s for General Richard Le Hunt is a house in need of a use rather than repair.  The Doric porch and neat window architraves create an interesting facade which would normally ensure that such a house would be jealously fought over if it came to market.  However it is now owned by the nearby oil refinery (the proximity probably ruling out residential use) but they are exploring options as to how to make use of this elegant Georgian house – perhaps as a conference facility might be more appropriate.  Either way, this is a house which shouldn’t be forgotten.

Other country houses of note in the report include the Grade-II* listed Plas Machen nr Newport, the surviving portion of the 15th-century house of the Morgans who moved up in the world to Tredegar House, which is for sale. Also for sale, since 2007, is Benwell Towers in Newcastle which was a country house when built but is now suburban, achieving fame in later life as the set for the kid’s TV series ‘Byker Grove’.

Even if your pockets can’t stretch to a country house there are many other buildings seeking a saviour so do order your copy of ‘Live or Let Die‘ and certainly consider joining SAVE Britain’s Heritage to help to preserve our architectural legacy for future generations.