The Day of the Horse

With all of this Olympic hubris flying about, horsemanship et al, I have begun to recall an event many, many years ago when I found myself in company with a horse. By this, I do not mean standing on one side of a fence with Dobbin safely tethered on the other. No, I mean in the actual presence of a horse, standing right up close and personal to the beast while he restlessly whinnied and his hooves – the diameter of dinner plates – roved about on the ground. Even though there were other people well used to horses in control of him, I was petrified, electrified. Friend, the beast was magnificent, on a scale I had never before witnessed. The ‘dip’ in his back – don’t know the jargon, I’m afraid – was roughly on a level with my head. And at 5’8’’, I don’t stand small. Presently, I got used to this exposure to danger and forgot my fears and began to consider Chappie’s other dimensions; the unbelievable undulation of his flank, the proportionally huge haunches, the preternaturally long legs. I longed to stroke his silky mane but I was in terror of a nip from those teeth – on calculation, I would say the distances from the top of his head to the tip of his nose was at least three feet – more than half my height. Instead, I reached out and tentatively stroked his flank. Once again, I was electrified. Instead of being cold and hard, like the dark-brown, shiny coat suggested, Chappie’s flank was warm, alive, throbbing with the power that had led us, for decades, to define our engines in terms of horsepower. Now, I understood the magical, mystical connotations that, for centuries, attached themselves to horses, why we painted their forms on the walls of caves and carved them on the sides of chalk hills. It was an experience that I will never forget. It was, in a word, awesome. But in spite of his magnificence, the memory of Chappie is sad and sweet. What place does the horse have in this world of super fast trains, planes and sky rockets? In aeons to come, I hope humans remember the beast whose power gave rise to the automated age and continue to find a place for him in their mythology – if mythology hasn’t died out either, that is.

Super Stourhead

The early 1700s' saw a frenzy of stately home building in the English countryside. Merchants and bankers grown wealthy from the proliferation of trade and commerce during the 1600s needed a showcase for their winnings. The Hoare banking family was among this roll-call of the nouveau riche. Their chosen plot was Stourhead in the heart of Wiltshire, England. In 1727, architect Sir Colen Campbell designed and built their Palladian villa. Tradition has it that Henry Hoare II - also known as Henry the Magnificient - designed and laid out the garden of Stourhead so that, from every point of view, it appeared like the idealised landscape of the classical painter.   Stourhead set a precedent for themed parks and gardens that has prevailed in the western world, ever since.
Eighteenth-century Europe was gripped by a frenzy for Neoclassicism, that is, a passion for the reinterpretation of existing classical styles. Because he was a scion of the eighteenth century, Henry Hoare II would most definitely have made the Grand Tour, that almost obligatory trip around France and Italy for every young gentleman of wealth and breeding. Such trips fostered friendships between fellow travellers, laying down social connections for life and engendering tastes in European foods and fashions, art and architecture, tastes that were imported 'back home'. 
Every visitor to Stourhead receives a map of the layout of the garden and all of its features, along with a suggested trail to follow. This is so you can derive the maximum enjoyment from the visit. The trail takes the visitor around the lake - the result of a dammed river - up hill and through forest, over bridge and into tunnel, and past several 'fabriques' or follies; the Temple of Flora, the Grotto, the Pantheon, and others. The garden is structured so that the visitor is always in view of at least one of these features. Tradition has it that these 'Italian' views evoke  the paintings of the artist Claude Gelee, better known as Claude Lorraine (1600-1682). 
In his styling of Stourhead as an idealized slice of Italy, Hoare was buying into another system, that of fashion. The recognisable fabriques of Claude's paintings transformed what could have been merely a pretty piece of wooded land into an entire cultural experience. Nowadays, we are so familiar with themed parks and experiences, that we don't turn a hair when a new one is opened. In the meantime, if you are visiting Stourhead, do not go when it is raining, but wait for the sunshine - and it's well worth it, I promise.

Evoking Classicism: the Wonderful Garrick Temple

David Garrick, ah, the very name evokes classicism, the cadence of eighteenth-century music, the sweep of ladies’ gowns and the swoop of feathers on gentlemen’s hats. Shakespearean actor Garrick built his famous Villa in Hampton in 1754, by the river Thames. Nearby, he built a Temple to house his collection of Shakespeare memorabilia and to celebrate the Bard's genius. With its distinctive octagonal footprint and domed roof, the Temple cannot fail to catch the eye as you sally along the river bank. Once upon terre, the visitor climbs the steps to a front porch or portico, its columns supporting a massive pediment over the entrance door. From where did Garrick get his building references? In the 1700s', there was a surge of interest over ancient Greece and Rome. This was in part due to the Grand Tour, the trip about Europe made by young men of means in order to complete their education. One point of interest was the Villa Rotunda, begun by Andrea Palladio in 1567. Palladio based his Villa on that Roman landmark, the Pantheon. The form is quite simple; a round building or 'rotonda' fronted by a portico of Corinthian columns supporting a pediment. In spite of the simplicity of the design - or maybe because of it - the Pantheon captured the imagination of architects all over Europe and North America. The Garrick Temple is not so grand, of course. The roof is domed and its three Queen Anne windows overlook the river. Inside, a statue of Shakespeare by the French sculptor Roubiliac, is set into an alcove in the wall opposite the entrance door. The walls are hung with paintings linked to the life and work of David Garrick, several of them by Johan Zoffany. In normal times, you can see the inside of the Temple every Sunday afternoon from April to October. At present, opening hours are irregular. But the garden in which it is situated is open daily from dawn to dusk, all the year around. The exterior alone, in its exquisite riverside location, is well worth seeing. Overall, there is an air of the unexpected about the place, as if Portia might suddenly appear on the portico - or the stirrings in nearby bushes presage the appearance of Puck. If you are in or near Hampton this summer, do try to see it.