JMP Journal July 2002

JMP Journal September 2004
Railway Children. 78 Derngate is an extraordinary house. It owes
its existence to the legacy of the Victorian era, propelled forward
by the advances of the Industrial Revolution. The greatest technical
achievement of this period was the development of steam power,
followed closely by the advent of rail. The railways provided access
to the outdoors for a society experiencing the environmental
impacts of industrialisation. A demand for recreational novelty
was met by innovative amusements. These included the miniature
railways and amongst their well known manufacturers was WJ
Bassett-Lowke & Co. An entrepeneur who travelled widely, Wenman
Joseph Bassett-Lowke became hugely impressed by the quality of
German design and was eager to adopt its aesthetics in his new
house. He sought out Charles Rennie Mackintosh to realise his
ambitions. Their collaboration represents an intriguing co-existence
of influences, of Mackintosh, WJ Bassett-Lowke, and Florence Jane
Bassett-Lowke, making it truly unique. Incredibly Bassett-Lowke
also went on to commission Peter Behrens to design a further
house for him, generally credited as the first Modern Movement
house in Britain. Murray Smith.
by Gavin Stamp
78 Derngate, restored and opened as a museum, will be both
the only celebration of the genius of Charles Rennie
Mackintosh outside Scotland and a memorial to his last
client, the Northampton engineer and model railway
manufacturer, Wenman Joseph Bassett-Lowke (1877-1953).
“There never will be great architects or great architecture
without great patrons,” Edwin Lutyens wrote in his tribute to
Philip Webb in 1915 – the very year when Bassett-Lowke was
considering adapting an old house in Northampton as his first
married home. This is a truth self-evident to architects and
designers but too often ignored by historians, for without
Bassett-Lowke, the depressed and exiled Mackintosh, down
on his luck, would never have received this last opportunity
to show what he was still capable of. And then, as if not
content with one startlingly original creation, Bassett-Lowke
went on to commission ‘New Ways’, generally regarded as
the first Modern Movement house to be built in the country.
He is not only a major figure in the modern history of
Northampton but a most significant one in the history of
modern Britain.
Nine years younger than Mackintosh, Bassett-Lowke was
a young man, just starting out, in 1900 and he enthusiastically embraced all that the new century had to offer. He
believed in modernity; he believed in progress: this may have
been naïve, but the horrors of the century had yet to
emerge. He also clearly enjoyed creating a stir by doing
something unconventional and new. Interested in
photography as well as in engineering (he made an early
experimental appearance on Logie Baird’s television
system in 1931), Bassett-Lowke was a Fabian Socialist
and became convinced of the social importance of good
design. After his death, Sir Gordon Russell recalled him
as a founder member of the Design and Industries
Association – so influential between the wars – and how
he was “particularly keen on improving standards of
design in every day things. In order to encourage
architects who were thinking on new lines he built a
house which appeared revolutionary to his neighbours in
the 20s, but has since come into its own. He used to
boast that there was nothing in it older than himself!”
As an engineer who specialised in precision and
miniaturisation, Bassett-Lowke naturally appreciated
clean lines and good craftsmanship. For him, the key
revelation would seem to have been his visit to the 1900
Paris Exposition where he first encountered German
products. “I was amazed at all I saw,” he recalled,
“especially I wondered at the high class toy production”.
This he did his best to emulate, eventually making
Bassett-Lowke a household name in the model railway
Opposite page: ‘New Ways’ is generally regarded as the
first Modern Movement house to be built in the country.
This page, clockwise from above: The Behrens house was
strikingly different from its English vernacular neighbours; the garden elevation’s central balcony shows
Basset-Lowke’s influence; the interiors included recreated decorative schemes by Mackintosh from the earlier
Derngate house.
world. What is clear is that his admiration for German design
never waned. He became familiar with German publications
and in 1913, as a wedding present for his brother and sisterin-law, ordered furniture from Germany to install in a special
room in their house. Their daughter Janet remembered how
“the walls were covered with a greenish paper with discreet
stripes, the paintwork was skillfully changed to represent
light oak, in harmony with the furniture arriving from
Germany. Each piece was constructed on straight lines
without any curves, eminently practical and beautifully
made.” It looked like something out of the pages of a German
journal like Dekorative Kunst.
When Bassett-Lowke himself married and wanted to
modernise his late Georgian house in Derngate, it is very
likely that he would have wanted to employ a German
designer. However, in the middle of a ferocious, xenophobic
world war, that was clearly impossible so that Mackintosh –
who first influenced and was then influenced by modern
German and Austrian design – may well have been the next
best thing. In him, Bassett-Lowke found a designer who had
been a friend of Hermann Muthesius and who had corresponded with Joseph Hoffmann. He was presumably unaware
of the circumstances surrounding the end of Mackintosh’s
partnership in the firm of Honeyman, Keppie & Mackintosh
78 Derngate, restored and opened as a
museum, will be both the only celebration
of the genius of Charles Rennie Mackintosh
outside Scotland and a memorial to his
last client.
Above and below: Basset-Lowke’s most public exercise in
architectural patronage came through his influence in
the commissioning of Northampton’s innovative
swimming baths of 1936.
Opposite page, clockwise from bottom: 78 Derngate is
characterised by its elaborate interior schemes by
Mackintosh; the bay window signifies the terraced
building’s internal conversion; the rear elevation was
re-built more radically, reflecting Basset-Lowke’s appreciation of clean lines.
and his departure from Glasgow in 1914 – or if he was, he
didn’t care. Bassett-Lowke now had an architect excitingly
different from the conventional English practitioner.
Two particular points are worth making concerning the
conversion of 78 Derngate. The first is that Bassett-Lowke
somehow arranged for Mackintosh’s designs for furniture to
be executed by skilled German prisoners of war held in the
Isle of Man – German quality was not forgotten. The second
is that the transformation of 78 Derngate in 1917 was not
the creation of Mackintosh alone but was a collaborative
effort. Not only was another Glaswegian architect involved
but the client also had firm ideas of his own. The other
architect was Mackintosh’s Glasgow contemporary Alexander
Ellis Anderson, who had worked in Northampton since 1893;
he may have been a more conservative designer but he had
designed the first “motor house” in Northampton in 1901.
More important, however, is Bassett-Lowke’s own role. The
new rear elevation of 78 Derngate, which looks so stark and
somehow ‘modern’ in early photographs, was not necessarily
built to Mackintosh’s design. Alan Crawford points out that
Bassett-Lowke liked deep rather than conventionally shallow
balconies and that “The bay at the back feels more like
Bassett-Lowke than Mackintosh.” When the house was
described and illustrated in Ideal Home in May 1920,
Today Whynne Bassett-Lowke is remembered
as a most remarkable patron of modern
architecture: one brave and imaginative enough
to employ both Mackintosh and Behrens.
Mackintosh’s name was not mentioned, but this omission
may well reflect an oversight on the magazine’s part as
well as the vanity of the client.
Bassett-Lowke was still in touch with Mackintosh in
1922 when he asked him to draw the first of his personal
Christmas cards, but when, only two years later, he was
considering moving from Derngate and building himself a
larger detached new house on a plot he had bought in the
suburbs, he did not think of using the once celebrated
but now unfashionable Glasgow designer again. BassettLowke later explained (in 1939) that, “Mackintosh was to
have designed a house for me to build on the site, but he
went away to live in the Pyrenees and I lost touch with
him. I tried to find another British architect with modern
ideas that suited my taste but was unsuccessful. Then,
looking through the German publication ‘Werkbund
Jahrbuch’ in 1913, I saw pictures of work by Dr. Peter
Behrens.” But this is not convincing. He may have gone
to the South of France, but not only was Mackintosh still
listed in the directory, Who’s Who in Architecture, but he
was praised as a living architect from whom “the whole
modernist movement in European architecture derives” in
Charles Marriott’s book on Modern English Architecture
published that very year: 1924. The sad truth must be
that Bassett-Lowke did not want to employ Mackintosh
again because, as Thomas Howarth concluded, he “found
him quite impossible to work with.”
So Behrens it was. If Bassett-Lowke possessed the
Werkbund Jahrbuch for 1913, he would long have known
of Behrens’s designs for electric kettles and other
industrial objects for A.E.G. (the German general electric
company) as well as his famous temple of power, the
Turbine Hall at the A.E.G. works in Berlin. But it cannot
be over-emphasised what a brave and imaginative act of
patronage this was. Not only had Britain become an
intensely conservative country in terms of design but,
only six years after the Armistice, war hatred had yet to
subside and things German were still generally vilified.
Just a few years earlier, Sir Lawrence Weaver – the
architectural writer who advised the government on the
contents of the British Empire Exhibition at Wembley in
1924 – could actually state that “A new method of design
is incredible, simply because it is not feasible. We had
our misfortune a few years ago in that pursuit, but even
before the war the ‘New Art’ which pleased Germany and
Austria so vastly was ‘dead and damned’ in Great
Britain.” Bassett-Lowke knew better, however. Not only
was he indifferent to conventional prejudice but he
remained convinced of the superiority of German design.
‘New Ways’, as Bassett-Lowke called his new home,
was built in Wellingborough Road in 1925-26. Behrens
(who never visited Northampton) provided him with a
house strikingly different from the conventional English
vernacular suburban houses either side. It had a flat roof,
white-painted rendered walls and curious, non-historical
detail. Bassett-Lowke must have had a considerable hand
in it for it is quite different from anything else Behrens
ever designed. The garden elevation had a central balcony
like that at the rear of the Derngate house while decorative schemes by Mackintosh were recreated inside to go
with his furniture. In truth, there is something slightly boxy
and prim about this upright, symmetrical house and the
interior had none of the freedom of Modern Movement houses
then being created on the Continent. It was, nevertheless,
influential as well as refreshingly novel, and the V-shaped
window motif was soon taken up by another great Scottish
architect, Thomas Tait, when he designed houses at the new
garden suburb around the Crittall metal window factory at
Silver End in Essex. ‘New Ways’ was illustrated in the
Architectural Review for September 1926, where is was
praised as “symbolical of a new phase of thought”, and it
must have been the inspiration for the modern house
designed by Professor Otto Silenus satirised in Evelyn
Waugh’s Decline and Fall published in 1928.
Bassett-Lowke’s last exercise in architectural patronage
came through his involvement in local government. In 1930
he was elected a Councillor – on the Socialist ticket – and
became the chairman of the Baths Committee entrusted with
giving Northampton a new swimming pool. A site had been
found in Upper Mounts for a new civic centre comprising
baths together with a fire and police stations. Bassett-Lowke
could not appoint the architect directly, but he surely had an
influence over the competition held in 1931. The assessor,
Percy Thomas (then designing Swansea Civic Centre), chose
the design by J.C. Prestwich & Sons, of Leigh. The exterior of
the new pool, constructed in 1934-36, is in the streamlined
Georgian manner typical of contemporary civic buildings, but
it is the interior which is impressive. Like other baths at the
time, it is covered by a stepped clerestory roof supported on
transverse elliptical arches of reinforced concrete – a theme
derived from another influential and pioneering English
building: Easton & Robertson’s Royal Horticultural Halls in
London.
No longer is the name Bassett-Lowke, like Triang and
Hornby, immediately redolent of the world of model railways,
but it is certainly not forgotten. Today Whynne Bassett-Lowke
is remembered as a most remarkable patron of modern
architecture: one brave and imaginative enough to employ
both Mackintosh and Behrens. To have built a house
designed by just one of these big names would be enough
to put him in the history books; to have commissioned
both is extraordinary. He richly deserves the museum at
78 Derngate.
photographs by Richard Bryant / Arcaid.co.uk
by Catherine Croft
78 Derngate is a very small 1820s terrace house built on a
busy road leading into Northampton city centre – a cheaply
run up, speculative venture by a developer out to make a
profit on the back of the city’s burgeoning leather trade. What
is special about it is the makeover it received, just under a
hundred years later – it now claims a significant place in
history as the last surviving built work of Charles Rennie
Mackintosh (1916-19).
John McAslan was himself a member of the Glasgow
based Mackintosh Society Committee from the year it was set
up, and has known its founder Patricia Douglas since he was
a student. The opening up of Derngate will, he hopes, reveal
Mackintosh once more as a pioneering architect who was
“brilliantly original”, a unique individual who drew on Arts
and Crafts practice, but also looked forward to the 1930s and
40s. McAslan thinks that the tight planning of number 78
shows the “extraordinary spatial quality” of Mackintosh’s
work as much as his “decorator” skills which have been so
often bowdlerised over the last twenty years. With pseudo
Mackintosh lettering and motifs printed onto tacky pastiche
gifts – “Mackintosh” style has become a hackneyed cliché
that no architect, least of all a Scot wants to dwell on – does
78 Derngate make him seem fresh again?
The biggest issue with opening 78 Derngate to the
public is that its really tiny. Some of the original black
and white photos, packed with people, must have been
taken with a very wide-angle lens, and if you peer closely
some visitors are perched on one another’s knees. In fact
before Mackintosh got at the house it was even smaller
still, and just whose idea the basic bones of the scheme
were is unclear – it’s certainly not pure Mackintosh. The
client, W J Bassett-Lowke, first had a set of drawings
produced for him by local architect Alexander Ellis
Anderson, and these included the remodelling of the front
elevation with the addition of a new bay window at ground
floor level, as well as the removal of the wall between the
hall and front room and the relocation of the stairs to run
parallel to the façade at the centre of the plan. Some time
soon after (or perhaps even at the same time – it is not
clear exactly when or why), Bassett-Lowke contacted
Mackintosh, and it appears to be Mackintosh’s hand that
actually guided the internal re-planning, and the addition
to the rear, as well as decorative schemes and furniture.
Albeit from a distance – he never actually visited the site.
Right from visiting, when the building was still in the
ownership of a local school, McAslan felt that the project
could only succeed if it incorporated at least one
neighbouring property. When the school sold up for
redevelopment (its main buildings which stood behind
Derngate have now been replaced by quintessentially naff
pseudo Georgian style apartment blocks), the newly
established 78 Derngate Trust was able to acquire both
numbers 78 and 80, and their charismatic chairman
Keith Barwell (a local businessman who pioneered free
newspapers and is chairman of Northampton Saints
Rugby Club) bought the larger house beyond that himself.
The first scheme was very comprehensive. The idea was
to restore 78, use 80 as a link building and house a
museum and educational facilities in number 82. An
application was made to the Heritage Lottery Fund, but it
was turned down as the assessors felt at the time it was
over ambitious and expensive. However they supported a
reduced scheme for just numbers 78 and 80.
Visitors arrive at number 82, where, after watching a
video and looking at an exhibition on the project, they
pass down the cellar stairs and out into the rear garden.
From here they are led in groups across the back of the
terrace and in through the tiled basement kitchen of
number 78. It has not been possible to allow access
through the front door because the pavement outside is
very narrow, and stepping back to look at the façade you
run the real risk of being mown down by a bus. The
dramatic transition from nondescript shabby street to the
Opposite and this page: the dramatic interior of the
Lounge Hall at ground floor where Mackintosh aimed to
create a sense of mystery and spaciousness.
copied direct from the original object, or (introducing a
larger element of conjecture) from original drawings or
photographs.
Curator Sylvia Pinches is especially pleased with the
guest bedroom on the top floor. A version of this exists at
the Hunterian (compete with original furniture) in the
brutalist structure designed by William Whitfield. This is
the famous stripy ceiling room, where black and white
printed fabric runs up from behind the twin beds and
across the ceiling. Close examination of the photographs
suggested that the appliquéd ribbons were not an
This page: the more traditional Dining Room at ground
floor; the staircase screen forms strong spatial relationships with the adjacent rooms.
Opposite: the famous stripy ceiling of the Guest Bedroom
at first floor was created with ribbon fabric.
photographs by Richard Bryant / Arcaid.co.uk
luxurious intensity of this complex dark space is not therefore
as apparent to visitors today as it was originally experienced.
In fact the drama of the hall (which was used as a main living
room) was too much for Mrs Bassett-Lowke and Mackintosh
was called back in 1919 to replace the paintwork with a
soft grey scheme, but it is the initial version that has
been recreated, where Mackintosh succeeded in his aim
– recorded in correspondence with Bassett-Lowke – “to get a
sense of mystery and spaciousness”.
It is a re-creation. A special working group was set up to
agonise over conservation policy for number 78. It comprised
Pat Douglas from the Charles Rennie Mackintosh Society,
Judith Hodgkinson from Northampton Museum (which has
some of the original artefacts and lots of information on the
client), Pamela Robertson from the Hunterian Art Gallery in
Glasgow (where there is a mock up of the guest bedroom from
number 78) and Roger Billcliffe who has published on
Mackintosh Furniture – together with in-house staff from
John McAslan + Partners. The problems were complex. Much
of the original furniture designed by Mackintosh for 78, and
some of the pieces chosen for it by him, or picked out on his
advice by Bassett-Lowke survive. However many of the major
pieces are in public collections (the Hunterian, the V&A) and
because of the extraordinary high prices which Mackintosh
furniture now achieves at auction, any that came up for sale
would have been very expensive for the Trust to acquire. In
1926 the Bassett-Lowkes moved to ‘New Ways’ which they
had commissioned from Peter Behrens, and which was
described by Pevsner as “the first truly modern house in
England”. They took some Mackintosh furniture with them
and adapted things like the elaborate hall light fixture and a
leaded glass niche from the fireplace screen, which was
flattened out into a radiator cover. The Trust has been lucky
in that a surviving member of the Bassett-Lowke family has
been generous, but many pieces have been replicated, either
photographs by Richard Bryant / Arcaid.co.uk
upholstery width and so shiny satin dress ribbons have
been used instead. The same iridescent shot silk is used
as panels on the bedspreads and curtains and for
lampshades and the blue stripes on curtains and walls
and ceiling are bright blue suede.
Like all the rooms, this bedroom originally had a lot
more furniture (dressing table, suitcase stand, cheval
mirror etc), but if it had all been replicated then there
would have been no room for visitor groups to actually
enter – and peering into a room set from the minute
landing was impractical too – so this seems a sensible
compromise.
Although number 80 was (and remains still) a grade II
listed building, it has been extensively re-modelled, to
service number 78. Both front and rear elevations were in
poor condition and were dismantled – all the reclaimed
bricks have been reused at the front. All interior walls,
mouldings and stairs have been stripped out and even
though the sash windows look authentic at first glance,
they are now double glazed and some on the rear façade
have been moved sidewards slightly so that front and rear
windows now align exactly and the open floor plates feel
“a bit clearer” as McAslan puts it. The effect is certainly
a good, calm foil to number 78, with neatly designed steel
handrails and inset glass floor panels. Visitors enter on the
top floor, exiting from number 78 to gradually make their way
down and out. Each floor essentially displays a single run of
information panels. Full disabled access to 78 has been
impossible to achieve. There is a new lift in number 80, but
openings in the party wall to number 78 were only possible
on the basement and top level (elsewhere they would have
cut through major decorative elements).
So does the opening of 78 Derngate change perceptions
of Mackintosh? It is a conversion of a very modest building
and not a new build, and not every room shows the hand of
Mackintosh (it appears that Mrs Bassett-Lowke kept him out
of her more conventional, restrained Edwardian bedroom).
However, it does show Mackintosh exploring a richer palate of
dark colours and strong textures. It shows the influence of a
discerning and strong minded client in details like the builtin coal scuttles in the rear dining room, the louvered door
panels and exterior shutters (Bassett-Lowke was a fresh air
fanatic) and the imported American Kohler bath (quite a feat
in 1916). The scale is appealing to visitors – its basic proportions are much like the homes many of us live in – and it
shows that design didn’t grind to a complete halt during
World War I. 78 Derngate gives a good indication of what
Mackintosh might have gone on to produce had he carried on
building in the final decade of his life.
Opposite, this page and overleaf: the adjacent number 80
Derngate has been re-modelled to form a gallery dedicated
to the story of the house, its architect and extraordinary
client.
by Sarah Jackson
seem relatively minor, they were extremely progressive in the
way that they emphasised the flow of space (the stair screen
and its relation to other rooms), fresh air (the balcony
extension, and the use of louvers in the internal doors), and
technological advances (services and use of modern
materials), all issues that in later years became key
Modernist concerns.
78 Derngate is a small 1820’s terraced house in
Northampton, significant because of the work carried out
by Charles Rennie Mackintosh in 1917 for his client WJ
Bassett-Lowke. Northampton County Council bought the
house in 1995 and The Derngate Trust was set up to run
78 Derngate as a house museum. The house was in poor
condition; although most of the fixed architectural features survived (the rear extension, the stair screen and
fitted furniture), the more vulnerable decorative finishes
did not. Conservation work therefore included restoring
the surviving elements and replicating interior finishes.
Research and design work started in 1998 and the house
opened to the public late 2003. The project was funded
by private donations and a Heritage Lottery Fund grant.
The main architectural moves in the 1917 works were
the construction of the rear extension, the relocation of
the stair from front to back to side to side, and the
installation of contemporary services. Although these
Opposite and previous page: original black and white
photographs, many taken by Basset-Lowke himself, were
the most important research material available to the
conservation team.
Research
All conservation work was based on thorough research. There
was a variety of available research material and evidence –
physical evidence (the house itself, paint research, fibre
samples, surviving furniture), documentary evidence (design
drawings by Mackintosh, letters between Mackintosh and
Bassett-Lowke, black and white photographs), and conjectural evidence (use of historical and practical ‘making’
knowledge, general archive material, intuition). Both the
Hunterian Art Gallery and the Victoria & Albert Museum, who
own much of the documentary evidence, archive material and
furniture, generously made their collections and expertise
available to us, as did the Mackintosh Society; unfortunately
we could not access private papers and photographs in the
possession of the Bassett-Lowke family. It was not uncommon for research evidence to either be inconclusive or to
conflict, and it is more than possible that we have things
‘wrong’, or at least not fully accurate – but in all cases,
decisions were made with judgement of the best available
information at the time, working within the philosophy, or
‘rules’, set out in the conservation plan.
Initial documentary research was carried out by Stephan
Levrant and Perilla Kinchen, practical research was
continued by the team of specialist consultants and their
suppliers: Mary Shoeser (fabric historian and colour expert),
Allyson McDermott (wallpaper conservator and stencil work),
Crick Smith Conservation (paint research), Jake Kaner,
Buckinghamshire Chilterns University College (furniture) and
Pat Dillon, University of Wolverhampton (carpets). The
Heritage Lottery Fund appointed monitors, Helen Hughes
from English Heritage and David Bissonnet from Purcell
Miller Tritton gave consistently helpful advice. The main
contractor was William Anelay Ltd, who also recently completed the restoration of Baillie Scott’s Blackwell house near
Bowness on Windermere, the Lake District. John McAslan +
Partners wrote the conservation plan and coordinated all the
research, design and building work.
With the exception of the render on the rear elevation,
which had failed badly and had to be replaced, the
architectural elements (staircase screen and joinery
elements) were simply cleaned up, prepared and new finishes
to match the original applied. Cost, maintenance and time
constraints determined our use of contemporary, rather than
historically accurate paints. Most of the interior joinery paints
were zinc based; these were new products in its day, but
relatively little is known about their ageing characteristics –
this is certainly one of the areas where it would benefit for
research to be continued.
Resolving the interior finishes was a more involved
process. The most important research material we had,
except, of course, the house itself, were the set of black and
white photographs in the Hunterian archive; it is presumed
(but not confirmed) that they were taken by Bassett-Lowke
himself, between 1917 and 1920. The photographs were
expertly composed and are of excellent quality, and without them, the replication of the decorative finishes would
not have been possible. Black and white photographs do,
however, have their limitations: the interiors were richly
textured and highly coloured. The hardest, but the most
fascinating, part of the research period was spent trying
to work out the textures and colours of the scheme.
To do this we set up a series of ‘colour meetings’
where team members could discuss, compare and swap
research information and physical samples. For each
element we would ascertain the substrate, texture and
colour ‘facts’, if any. These were our primary sources, but
they were relatively scarce, as little of the physical fabric
remained. They included evidence that existed in situ,
paint samples, stained glass, tiles and inlays on the
furniture. Secondary sources such as the written and oral
accounts generally proved to be unreliable, either for their
oversimplification (what kind of blue is blue?) or for the
inaccuracy of language (for example the term ‘papered’
could refer to either the process of hanging a wall
covering or the substrate of the material itself). Colours
are particularly difficult to describe, since as well as the
three dimensional issues of brightness, tone and saturation, they have historical resonances and are affected
by personal preferences. Textures suffer even more in
accounts, they rarely get mentioned but are so essential
to the feel of the space. The team had to get into the
mindset of both the period and the characters involved.
Despite contemporary technological advances, and the
possibilities it offered for transferring digital images, we
found the only way of transferring colour references
between the team was with actual physical samples – tiny
scraps of fabric, paint swatches and wool tufts were
passed around, discussed and matched. Textures, however, could be examined and transferred digitally; the
The Lounge Hall
The lounge hall is undoubtedly the most theatrical of all
the rooms, definitely there to impress both visitors and
passers by. It is the central focus of the house, an integrated version of the classic ‘front room’, entered directly
from either the street or from the stair. The room is all
black – black walls, black ceiling, black floors, black fire
surround and black stair screen, enlivened with the vivid
stencil work on the walls and the stained glass in the
screen. Although obviously dramatic, it must have been a
difficult space to live in, and, due to its open relationship
with the stair, impossible to shut away.
This decorative scheme is indisputably Mackintosh; it
shows classic late Mackintosh features – the stencil work, the
grid of the stair screen and the furniture, and the use of black
(an obvious link with the Dug Out and the Ingram Street Tea
Rooms) – and several original Mackintosh design drawings
survive in the Hunterian. Correspondence between BassettLowke and Mackintosh also survive; they reveal that they
discussed and changed many issues. Bassett-Lowke was
certainly an active client, and one with a keen eye for detail.
Allyson McDermott carried out the research and application of the stencil work. There was much documentary
evidence; the stencil designs and the actual stencil sheets
survive in the Hunterian, but there was little physical evidence of the scheme insitu. Investigation of the wall face
revealed all the paper schemes before the black one (1820 –
1917), and all the schemes after (1920 – 2002), including
the grey scheme, the redecoration that was carried out in the
Bassett-Lowke phase. The only physical evidence of the black
1917 scheme was black stripes painted on the wall at intervals consistent with the width of a substrate (typically applied
to the reduce the visible impact of any gaps in the papers).
The lack of evidence led Allyson McDermott to suppose that
the scheme had been carried out on a fabric substrate; the
fabric would have had to be removed before another finish
was applied, and, unlike paper, would have left little trace.
Eventually, linen fibres were found, confirming her original
supposition. Paint colour traces were left on the original stencil cards, but they did not match the results on the photographs, in terms of opacity and brightness. The final solution
was reached by trial and error and by much sampling.
Another notable area of research was the curtain fabric.
Mary Shoeser found a design in the Heals Collection in the
V&A archive that matched the black and white photographs,
but in a different colour way and fabric; the original was
designed by Mackintosh, block printed and produced by
Foxton’s in several different forms (colour ways and fabric
types). The wave design was replicated and the silk fabric
ascertained by close inspection of the photographs; the
black, purple and yellow colours established through
investigating their tonal characteristics. Block cutting is now
prohibitively expensive in this country; our suppliers had the
fabric block printed in India, where craft skills are still
economically viable. Block printing is a labour intensive lowtech craft, but the process, as far as we were concerned, was
incredibly contemporary. The samples we received from India
were scanned in, marked up and emailed back – an immediate method of making visual comments. This was a classic
example of how traditional craft can work with technologies
of today.
Carpets also proved to be surprisingly interesting – close
examination of the black and white photographs revealed that
it was constructed out of a mix of cut and loop pile. This was
a very effective way of creating contrast and texture out of
simple pallet of colours and materials. In a similar manner,
the elements of the screen were highlight in a gloss paint,
contrasting with the flat matt finish. These textural contrasts
give depth to the room, reducing the flatness that can so
often occur in replication work.
photograph by Richard Bryant / Arcaid.co.uk
original black and white photographs were scanned in
and enlarged to examine minute details. Mary Shoeser’s
knowledge and intuitive sense was key in resolving all
textural and colour issues.
78 Derngate is tiny, but every wall face, floor finish,
window treatment and fitting was a one off, so research
was intensive and extremely time consuming. There was
no ‘straight’ specification or universal approach; everything was unique both in research and production terms.
Some fabrics were sourced off the shelf, others were
specially woven or block printed; some of the papers were
digitally printed (a new technique, which supersedes the
need for setting up expensive screen print frames), others
hand stencilled. Judgement came in prioritisation and
balancing cost with authenticity.
The research processes for three of the principle
rooms, the lounge hall, the dining room and the guest
bedroom, are worthy of particular attention. They are very
different types of rooms, both in style and available evidence, and each had their own issues to resolve.
Collectively they give a good impression of the conservation process, the overall diversity of the house, and of
the main characters involved in the project’s inception.
The Dining Room
The dining room is probably the most traditional or
‘ordinary’ room in the house, but in many ways it proved
the most interesting to resolve. Apart from the black and
white photographs, and the Mackintosh designed fireplace unit that remained insitu, there was little evidence.
No decorative finishes survived and there were few
documentary accounts; the room was described as
‘brown’ – not desperately precise.
The colour pallet was determined by research into the
carpets. The two loose carpets in the room were a traditional Wilton type that could have been family cast offs or
bought off the shelf, in their day. At first it was thought
that appropriate period ones could be sourced from a
carpet warehouse, but when we realised how critical the
colours would be for the room, we had the carpets
purpose made. It was known that that type of carpet
would have been made up of five colours; Mary Shoeser,
Opposite: development samples from the Lounge Hall
and Dining Room, including the stencil work, curtains,
wall paper and carpets.
using her colour knowledge of the period and views on
the overall colour pallet of the house, took an informed
‘guess’. These colours were refined by the carpet designers at Wolverhampton University, but it was not until the
carpet manufacturers, Avena, showed us a replica carpet
that they had made for Chatsworth House (based on a
surviving 1917 fragment) that directly matched our
colours, that we were confident with the choice. The five
colours seemed so disparate, but when put together in
the proportions of the pattern and in the context of the
room, they look just right. The design of the carpet was
worked out directly from the photographs, a relatively
difficult process, as the pattern and pic sizes did not
match. Interestingly, in the photographs of the room, the
corners of the carpets were concealed by purposely
placed pieces of furniture. Only in one case, where the
focus was not on the carpets, was a corner visible,
revealing that the carpet border had not been turned. We
can only assume that these carpets were cut down from
larger ones, perhaps family hand-me-downs. Not the
image Bassett-Lowke would want to record for posterity.
The tapestry paper was of high quality, but was
relatively standard for its day. As the paper was not of
great significance, Allyson McDermott suggested we
found an appropriate paper to copy, rather than go down
the exact replication route. She found a period paper that
matched the style of the original and had it digitally
reproduced to match the scale and colour pallet, and had
it printed on appropriate paper. Digital reproduction eliminates the need to set up costly silkscreen panels, which,
up until recently, was the only way to replicate machine
made papers; it was the first time this technique had
been used on this scale.
The Guest Bedroom
The guest bedroom is well known to the Mackintosh devotee,
as there is a room set with the original Mackintosh furniture
in the Hunterian Art Gallery. As with the lounge hall, we had
several pieces of the furniture replicated from the originals
by Jake Kaner of Buckinghamshire College University. It is
another extraordinary room – black and white striped bedspread, wall face, canopy and curtains. The room, for me,
shows the overriding influence of Bassett-Lowke; it is fresh,
modern and Germanic in style. When asked if the stripes
would disturb his sleep, George Bernard Shaw, a friend of
Bassett-Lowke’s who stayed in the house, is reputed to have
said, “I always sleep with my eyes shut”. This question only
made sense to me when I saw the new installation for the first
time – the stripes have an optical effect not that unlike a
Bridget Riley painting. It is difficult to stay in the room for a
long time.
No design drawings, if they existed at all, or finishes for
the room survive, but like the lounge hall it had been extensively photographed. The key issue in this room was to work
out the substrate and width of the stripes. Bassett-Lowke
wrote that the room had ‘distinctive black and white paper’,
but Nikolaus Pevsner described it as ‘fabric’. Prior to our
work, it had been assumed that the walls and ceiling were
paper, and the bedspread and curtains fabric, but all the
members of the colour group had a hunch that the whole
scheme was fabric. The photographs were taken with a very
wide angled lens; this had the effect of distorting the stripes
on the beds to make them look wider than the wall stripes,
suggesting they were different materials. One picture,
however, became critical for us – the straight on view of the
curtain and window. Here it was clear that the stripes on the
wall and the curtain were the same, and close examination of
the wall/ceiling junction showed a textile-like sag. The use of
edging braid, which has always traditionally been used to
finish wall fabrics, also indicated fabric. Mary Shoeser then
found a black and white stripe period fabric sample in the
Warner’s Archive in the V&A. Although we knew that this
fabric was not the actual one (the stripe thicknesses, which
so accurately work with the dimensions of the furniture, did
not fit), fabrics were often made in different stripe widths, so
we had no qualms in readjusting the stripes to suit our
particular requirements. An extraordinary amount of effort
was put into working out the stripe dimension; they came to
23/32” black, 21/32” white. Only when we realised that the
black plus white stripe came to 1 1/2” and the total canopy
width came to 8 feet, (incedently, the same dimension used
to set out the lounge hall) were we confident that we were on
the right track. The setting out of the canopy was remarkably
clever, bearing in mind that a strong symmetrical applied
geometry had to work in an existing room, with an existing
window; the curtains conceal the off set of the window. The
material is a linen and cotton mix with a complex texture –
the black is raised up in cotton satin, the off-white background has a slightly ribbed weave. It was specially woven for
us by Warner’s and was backed onto paper for application.
Our decision to use fabric for all elements in the room
was controversial. It was fascinating to see how different
groups of professionals, from academics to practitioners, use
and trust different evidence. We could of course be wrong,
but the resulting replica looks wonderful, the richness of the
fabric giving depth and texture, matching the luscious
quality of the scheme in the original photographs.
The Project
Derngate has been an extraordinary project, depending on
teamwork, coordination, thorough research, patience and
a good deal of intuition. The close study of these domestic interiors gave an almost voyeuristic insight into the
personalities and taste of three people, Charles Rennie
Mackintosh, Mr and Mrs Bassett-Lowke, and the age in
which they lived (the work was carried out during the
war). Although the rooms show an apparently eclectic mix
of decorative styles and colours, they are strongly held
together by the two main architectural moves (the stair
case and the rear extension), the three protagonists, and
by the original 1820’s house itself.
Derngate is a classic example of a project that follows
through a strong idea, whilst acknowledging, but not
being dominated by, constraints. One cannot but admire
the skill in which space, colour and materials were manipulated within the confines of an existing house, and with
such relatively modest means. More with less, so to
speak. It is one of those wonderfully awkward cusp buildings, extremely progressive, but not quite making the
jump to a new age. These are the buildings that tell you
the most.
Even though this phase of the work has come to an
end, the conservation process is far from over. Research
will, hopefully, be ongoing, and undoubtedly, as more
documentation comes to light, our interpretation might
be challenged. In the end, this project is essentially a
2003 re-creation of the 1917 interiors of an 1820’s
terraced house. It can be interpreted in many ways.
Opposite: development samples from the Guest
Bedroom, Lounge Hall, Master Bedroom and Bathroom
including wall fabric, wall paper, carpet and mosaic.
The Bassett-Lowke Company was formed in 1899 by
Wenman Joseph Bassett-Lowke and published its first
catalogue in the 1900-01 season. Featuring prominently
amongst its products at that time were built-to-order scale
models, which Bassett-Lowke continued to manufacture
until its demise in the late 1960s. The company built
model ships, traction engines, railway equipment and
industrial complexes. Highly skilled craftsmen worked
direct from drawings, making individually, all of the parts
that would be required for the working model to function.
The work was a labour of love, taking hundreds of hours,
and a certain fascination in the nature of the product lies
in recognising the passion and skill that were so crucial to
achieving the remarkable quality that Bassett-Lowke was
renowned for. The Bassett-Lowke Company made a full
range of models including, locomotives, rolling stock,
track work and accessories. Amongst the locomotives they
produced were the Trix 00 series, the beautiful 0-gauge
streamline Gresley A4 Mallard class Pacifics and the
Stanier Coronation class Pacifics. Only a few of these
Pacifics were ever made – sold in 1937 for 12 guineas,
they are now capable of fetching several thousand pounds.
For the collector, there is a significant challenge in
tracking down these originals.
The Bassett-Lowke Company, like their commercial
competitors Bing, Marklin, Hornby, Mills Brothers, and
The Leeds Model Company, also made a full range of
accessories, including stations, signal boxes, engine sheds
and everything else associated with the running of a
railway. The Bassett Lowke approach to this was very interesting and rewarding to the collector. When the company’s
craftsmen were not employed in the making of large scale
models, they devoted their time to the manufacture of
these accessories. The result was a unique, catalogued set
of one-off railway buildings, usually constructed in wood
by Mike Green
and glass, introducing an authentic feel to the commercial
model railway for the first time.
WJ Bassett-Lowke even commissioned Heyde and
Company to produce a set of famous figures to adorn the
company’s model stations. These figures included LloydGeorge, Amy Johnson, Charlie Chaplin and Ramsey McDonald.
The final figure in the set was of a famous model-maker,
Bassett-Lowke himself!
The Basset-Lowke Company’s scale models were hand-built by
skilled carftsmen and engineers, and enjoyed by all.
by Sylvia Pinches
Although within the bounds of the medieval town wall,
the southern side of Derngate was not developed until the
early nineteenth century. A six-acre enclosure remained
as meadow and orchards, until it began to be sold for
building plots during the construction boom of the
Napoleonic wars. John Mobbs, victualer, had bought two
acres at the eastern end in 1808. Very soon, he sold part
to Mr Chamberlain who built the house now known as 82
Derngate, a handsome and substantial Regency house. To
the west, towards the town, Mobbs and others built
terraces of more modest houses suitable for the
expanding professional classes and well-to-do tradesmen
of this county town. In 1815 he gave a small plot, 113
feet wide and 59 feet deep, to his son William Mobbs,
plumber and glazier, and it was he who built 76, 78 and
80 Derngate. Throughout the nineteenth century these
houses were rented out. The occupants of number 78 have
been traced in the census returns: in 1841 and 1851,
William Wood, auctioneer; in 1861, Jonathan Ryland,
‘author, editor and translator’; in 1871, unoccupied, in
1881 and 1891, John Mawbey, schoolmaster; in 1901
Sarah Burritt, widow of independent means.
By the early twentieth century the houses along
Waterloo Terrace, as it was known, were perhaps
descending the social scale a little. Certainly a number of
the residents were taking in lodgers. The houses them-
selves were now 80-100 years old, with no running water or
indoor sanitation. In the 1910s a number of the houses were
bought by owner-occupiers for the first time and modernised.
The trend was remarked in the local newspaper, the
Northampton Independent, in January 1917. Under the title
Derngate Redivivus, the article continued:
“I hear that Towerfield, in Derngate, has been bought by
Mr Fred Smith, the well-known builder associated for so
many years with Mr Henry Martin. He proposes to take up
his residence there shortly, but not, I presume, until he has
converted its ‘encircling gloom’ into some semblance of
modernity … By the way, Derngate is undergoing quite a
revival as a residential thoroughfare.”
Part of that revival was, of course, the remarkable
transformation which was being worked in number 78 by the
new owner Wenman Joseph Bassett-Lowke, local architect
Alexander Ellis Anderson, and Charles Rennie Mackintosh.
These men achieved more than a mere ‘semblance of modernity’. They created a ‘charming and up-to-date miniature
residence’ inside the shell of a late Georgian building. The
combination of Bassett-Lowke’s interest in modernity and
efficiency with the late flowering of Mackintosh’s decorative
genius did produce something that was ‘in some respects …
a house of the future’, as the Ideal Home magazine described
it in 1920.
In 1926 the Bassett-Lowkes sold number 78 to local
architect, Harold Moore Scrivener. He did not remain long,
but sold it to a Miss Amphlett, who lived here until after the
second world war. Mrs. Burgess, then lived here until it was
bought by Northampton High School for Girls in 1964. In the
following year it was listed as a building of Grade II* importance. At first the School let it out as offices, then used it
as classrooms. However, although hidden, the wonderful
interiors were never entirely lost or forgotten. People like
Tom Osborne Robinson, Scenic Director at the Repertory
Theatre, cared about 78 Derngate and kept its memory alive.
The race to save it really began when the School decided to
sell the Derngate site in the early 1990s. Many more people,
near and far, were galvanised into action. Within a short
space of time, the Borough Council was able to take a
999-year lease on the property, thanks to the generosity
of local businessman Keith Barwell and his wife Maggie;
a charitable Trust was formed in 1998 to manage the
project; the Friends of 78 Derngate were set up; money
and awareness were raised; plans were drawn up and
approved.
The original vision encompassed a restored 78, 80 as
circulation and exhibition space, and 82 as a vibrant
centre for displaying and encouraging modern design. The
plans for 82 also included a café, a shop and offices.
Complementing sums already pledged from local sources,
a grant of £999,000 from the Heritage Lottery fund in
October 2001 brought enough money to begin Phase
One, the careful restoration of 78 and the transformation
of 80 into a display gallery, allowing access to 78 literally
and metaphorically. Phase Two, the renovation of number
82, now awaits the raising of another £1 million!
Opposite page: following the successful completion of
the 78-80 Derngate project, the re-modelling of number
82, to include a new entrance pavilion to the garden
elevation, forms the basis of Phase Two proposals to
enhance facilities at the Museum.
Murray Smith is editor of JMP Journal. Gavin Stamp is an
architectural historian and chairman of the Twentieth Century
Society. Catherine Croft is director of the Twentieth Century
Society. Sarah Jackson was the conservation architect for 78
Derngate and she is a design review advisor at CABE. Mike Green
is chairman of the Bassett-Lowke Society. Sylvia Pinches is curator
of 78 Derngate. Project Team client 78 Derngate Trust architect
and museum designer John McAslan + Partners structural
engineer Jampel, Davison and Bell services engineer Rybka
Battle cost consultant Boyden & Company landscape architect
JMP Landscape fabric historian and colour expert Mary Shoeser
wallpaper conservator and stencil work Allyson McDermott
paint research Crick Smith Conservation furniture Jake Kaner,
Buckinghamshire Chilterns University College carpets Pat Dillon,
University of Wolverhampton heritage monitors Helen Hughes,
English Heritage and David Bissonnet, Purcell Miller Tritton
main contractor William Anelay Ltd.
JMP Journal is produced by
John McAslan + Partners and
designed by Thomas Manss & Co.
ISSN 1474 – 2853
The subject of the next issue
will be John McAslan + Partners’
proposed passenger transport
interchange in central Manchester
John McAslan + Partners
49 Princes Place
London W11 4QA
United Kingdom