
Spoils of war
I travel often to Central Europe, where of course I find much, architecturally, to admire. One way in which the Czech Republic and its neighbours are different from Britain is the amount of dazzling – sometimes overwhelming – baroque architecture: churches dripping with putti and vast statues of bishops, brightly coloured plastered house fronts, that kind of thing. Our Czech friends insist that there is no ‘proper baroque’ in England, and it’s true, what passes for baroque architecture here – the work of Vanbrugh, for example, or Hawksmoor – is very different from the curious combination of grand scale and icing-sugar delicacy that typifies the baroque of Germany and Bohemia.
But every now and then one comes across something that makes one think a bit differently about what we have in England. These gate piers that mark one of the entrances of Petworth House are a case in point. They conjure up the idea of the spoils of war – an enemy’s armour displayed in triumph. But what extraordinary armour and what a bizarre way to display it. The helmet is supported on – what? Pevsner and Nairn, in their Buildings of England volume on Sussex, suggest a tree trunk. but what kind of tree has a trunk like this? A baroque tree, I suppose. As for the armour itself, from its lavish curlicues to its crested helmet, it’s amazing, the kit of the showiest show-off. The face on one of the shields is an especially ornate touch, as are the swirling crests, the feathered arrows, and the loops and tucks of fabric and tooled leather. Whoever made these piers was a virtuoso carver.
It comes as no surprise that this is the work of a sculptor from the European mainland. Apparently there are some drawings in the Petworth archives signed by ‘V Dost’ of Dijon that show military spoils like the ones on the gate piers. I can’t find out anything about Monsieur Dost, even his dates. I’d have thought the piers were early-18th century but the National Archives web site seems to think that the drawings are 19th-century. I remain delighted in my ignorance.
