Wednesday’s Clydesdales
It’s a classic towered English Palladian mansion in the manner of Croome Court (Worcestershire) and Houghton Hall (Norfolk). A château on a Wiltshire plain with a church at its back door. Except it’s not quite. The latter two country houses display four formal elevations between four towers. Lydiard House has two formal elevations between three towers. An 18th century Palladian style cloak is only half draped around a rambling medieval manor house. A noble theme, perfect in beauty.
At once pristinely ordered yet chaotically unarranged, the house only gradually reveals itself. There’s a two dimensional quality to the Palladianism when viewed from the northwest and southeast. The thinness of that cloak! The towering form silhouettes well. Lydiard House in Lydiard Tregoze deserves and receives one of the most comprehensive ever photographic recordings of a country house. Days of small beginnings reap much reward, exposing great and hidden things. Visits across the seasons reveal how the grey ashlar Bath stone of the main elevations that’s silvery under winter’s moonlight turns straw yellow to pair with the burnt lawn of summertime. The informal ochre church facing elevation deepens in hue as the mercury rises.
Residents of SW11 will recognise the family names associated with Lydiard Tregoze. Bolingbroke Grove, St John’s Hill, St John’s Road, Spencer Park. 1n 1757 Frederick St John had married a talented artist Lady Diana Spencer, daughter of the 3rd Duke of Marlborough. The fashionable south London postcode was once another family estate. The current holder of the titles is Nicholas Alexander Mowbray St John (pronounced Sinjin as sure as Gertrude Jekyll rhymes with treacle) who was born in New Zealand in 1974. He married Helen Macdougall in 2012 at Bishop’s Palace Fulham London and divorced her three years later in Australia. Nicholas is the dashing 9th Viscount Bolingbroke, 9th Baron St John of Lydiard Tregoze, 10th Viscount St John of Battersea and 13th Baronet St John of Lydiard Tregoze. A quadruple titled Kiwi.
Plagiarism being something of a hot topic right now, it is acknowledged upfront that this article is primarily built upon three publications by The Georgian Group. Steven Parissien on The Eclecticism of Roger Morris New Light on English Palladianism (1988), Carole Fry on An Architect for Lydiard House (2004) and Richard Hewlings on Roger Morris and Lydiard Tregoze (2004) all significantly added to the body of knowledge about the house’s architecture and architect. If those three eminent professionals’ efforts have created a metaphorical elegant edifice, this article seeks to add a gadrooned urn.
According to Steven, “The sources of Roger Morris’s architectural style are surprisingly complex. His architecture was by no means grounded in slavish adaptations of Palladio’s buildings, as many of his detractors have alleged. In reality his work represented a synthesis of a variety of English, Italian and personal elements. Most interestingly, Morris deliberately chose to experiment with unfashionable Gothic and neoclassical forms in a daringly novel fashion, rather than simply rely on the basic, elemental formula he employed for many of his smaller villas.” A house on the scale of Lydiard would allow Roger to reach his full Palladian potential.
Steven notes that unusually for an early Palladio inspired architect, Roger exhibited a robust interest in genuinely neoclassical forms. And – the deep eaves, sturdy columns and isolated windows of his Tuscan stable block at Althorp in Northamptonshire, the family estate of that other Lady Diana Spencer, recall Inigo Jones’ St Paul’s Church in Covent Garden, London. Illustrating the “eclecticism” in the title of his article, Steven refers to Roger’s most celebrated Gothic project, Inverary Castle in the West Highlands. Robert Adam would later develop the symmetrical castle form using Inverary as a prototype.
Judith Hill describes Inverary Castle in Gothic: Building Castles in post-Union Ireland (2026), “The seat of the Duke of Argyll, Inverary Castle, Argyll, was more than likely a model for Charleville [Charleville Castle near Tullamore, County Offaly]. It was designed by Roger Morris in 1745, was square in plan, with four substantial circular corner towers and a central square tower rising above the roof.” Roger’s influence clearly extended across the Irish Sea, having an impact on the work of such distinguished architects as Francis Johnston who designed Charleville.
“Roger Morris cannot be described as outstandingly original nor unusually gifted with genius,” summarises Steven Parissien. “He does not survive comparison with illustrious contemporaries such as William Kent or even James Gibbs. Nevertheless, his experiments with neoclassical forms and in particular with Gothic design – at a time when both were generally eschewed – mark him as an architect of surprising invention and eclecticism.” It’s that Lake Wobegon Days (the 1985 novel by Garrison Keillor) conundrum where all the children are above average. In reality, not all architects can be born equal. But the more that is discovered about Roger Morris’ built legacy, the further he rises in estimation.
Lydiard doesn’t get a mention in Steven’s article: it predates Carole Fry’s riveting discoveries. She states, “In 1740, Lydiard House, Wiltshire, was a much extended, late medieval country house, originally built upon an H plan. It had been untouched by the first wave of the classicising Neo Palladianism revival that swept across England in the first quarter of the 18th century, a circumstance to be remedied by a radical restyling in the 1740s. Until now the architect responsible for the remodelling of Lydiard has remained elusive, with no evidence emerging to support the stylistic attributions that have been made. New research has, however, discovered a documentary source linking Lydiard to both the architect and master builder.”
A plaque on an attic wall is inscribed, “This house was rebuilt AD MDCCXLIII by John Lord Viscount St John who married Anne the daughter and co heiress of Sir Robert Furnese Barronet [sic] of Waldershare in the County of Kent.” So that’s the timing and patron of the Palladian rebuilding resolved. Carole discovered a detail in John St John’s ledger at Hoare’s Bank in London: “The account records a payment on 10 September 1744 to ‘Ro. Morris’ for £42. This entry is likely to mean the architect Roger Morris rather than his kinsman, Robert, who, although occasionally practising as an architect and surveyor, was much better known as an architectural theorist.” Payments are also recorded on Sir John’s ledger to one “Nath. Ireson”, undoubtedly the master builder Nathaniel Ireson. Carole also provides stylistic support for Roger’s involvement, namely the similarity of the towers with Inigo Jones’ Wilton House near Salisbury in Wiltshire as well as its Inigo Jones and William Kent inspired interiors. So that’s the architect and builder sorted.
Carole’s article precedes Richard Hewlings’ writing in the same Georgian Group Journal. He opens with, “Lydiard Park, at Lydiard Tregoze, four miles west of Swindon, is the most important English country house of Palladian type whose architect has, until now, been unknown.” He then refers back to Carole’s discovery of John St John’s payment to “Ro. Morris”. Richard notes how Christopher Hussey outed Roger Morris in Country Life 19 and 26 March 1948 as a potential architect of Lydiard on stylistic grounds, in particular drawing on similarities to the exterior of Wilton and the interior of Marble Hill House in Twickenham, London. That was the same year that Roger Morris had been identified in the same magazine as an architect, distinguishing him from his relative Robert Morris.
Christopher Hussey highlights irregularities in the 18th century rebuilding that suggest the interweaving of the front and back of the house was more complicated that it first appears. The main house is roofed with stone slates; the towers with lead. Only the towers are timber framed. These differences suggest the towers may be slightly later. He comments, “This may account for a double angle at the southwest corner of the front, visible in the plan and suggesting that either the main façade did not quite fit the older structure or the facing of the pavilion [tower] did not quite fit the façade at this point.” The middle bay of the otherwise balanced seven bay southeast front is slightly off centre. The thin cloak was oversized.
The Country Life articles name Roger Morris as the potential architect but without the confidence of Carole’s discovery. Christopher points out, “No architect is known to have been employed, and, if the corner pavilions [towers] were indeed an afterthought, identification on stylistic grounds is clearly a risky undertaking. Moreover, the unprofessional manner of its finishing off might confirm the lack of a regular architect. Nevertheless the exquisite simplicity of the elevations and quality of the details, and the assured accomplishment of the internal decoration, surely disprove a master mason having alone been responsible.” Christopher records that the architect died on 31 January 1749, a few days before Lord St John met his maker, which could have been a combined reason for construction work coming to an abrupt halt.
“The corpus of Morris’s known work having been enlarged since 1948,” Richard contends, “Morris’ design idiosyncrasies are better known now than they could have been to Hussey.” Richard identifies six characteristics of Roger’s oeuvre identifiable at Lydiard. Firstly, the treatment of chimneybreasts in the Hall, Dining Room, State Bedroom (formerly the Ballroom) and Dressing Room (formerly the Chapel). These projections unusually do not continue up to the ceiling but rather stop short of the cornice. This allows the cornice to remain uninterrupted and, in the case of the Hall, also the high coving. This treatment was championed by Colen Campbell at Mereworth Castle in Kent, but Roger used it more than anyone else including in the Great Room at Marble Hill House. Even more extreme, the chimneybreast of the Gallery at Marble Hill only projects as high as the chimneypiece itself.
High coving is the second characteristic: another Marble Hill feature (in its Gallery). Thirdly, the unusual top light over the front door formed of five teardrop shaped pieces of glass between the glazing bars in a semicircular shape set in an otherwise solid timber rectangle (see Mereworth Castle). Fourthly, the large central plasterwork panels on the shorter walls have intruded top corners filled with paterae and swagged wreaths hanging from central masks in the panels. Guess where else this appears? Yes, Marble Hill (the Great Room again). Fifthly, and another design element to be found at Marble Hill: the Corinthian screen of columns in Lydiard’s State Bedroom is similar to that of Lady Suffolk’s Bedchamber (Henrietta Suffolk, Countess of Suffolk, was best known as George II’s lover) in the London villa. There’s also an Ionic screen of columns in the Dining Room. Screens are a useful architectural device for fitting classical proportions into revamped rather than new buildings.
Finally, the distinctive diamond coffering pattern of the apse ceiling in the Dressing Room. Richard notes it is an Ancient Roman type used in the Temple of Venus and Roma in Rome. Roger also uses it in the Shell Grotto at Goodwood House, West Sussex. Richard ends, “Carole Fry’s discovery of the bank payment may imply that Morris was the architect of Lydiard Park. In conjunction with patronal connections, and with visual affinities to buildings now known to be by Morris, but not so known in 1948, that implication is very convincing.”
English Heritage’s 1988 guidebook to Marble Hill House, edited by Katy Carter, states, “Colen Campbell initially designed Marble Hill and Roger Morris undertook the construction under the supervision of Henry Herbert, the future 9th Earl of Pembroke, whose influence is noticeable throughout. The house is simpler than it appeared when first published in the third volume of Campbell’s Vitruvius Britannica.” It is also smaller – missing the wings. Value engineering is not a new concept.
In between tales of hauntings on the Avenue and in the Library, local historian Alex Crump records in Lydiard Ghost Stories (2024), “Lydiard Park served as a large station hospital for the American 101st Airborne Division and treated casualties from the D Day landings. Then from 1943, the American hospital became a prisoner of war hospital and housed up to 200 German prisoners of war at a time.”
Vernon, 7th Viscount Bolingbroke, had been the last in the line to live at Lydiard House. A simple gravestone decorated with a butterfly in the cemetery of the estate church of St Mary’s records he was born in 1896 and died (childless) in 1974. Half a millennium of St John presence had ended 31 years earlier when he had sold the house and estate for £4,500 to Swindon Corporation. A place once so important that Queen Elizabeth I stayed the night.
According to The Lydiard Archives, Vernon was the fourth child of Henry St John 5th Viscount Bolingbroke and housekeeper Mary née Howard. The couple kept their marriage a secret until the death of Henry’s father in 1899. Aged 21, Vernon fought at the battles of Passchendaele and Somme before receiving an Honourable Discharge for shellshock. He had a brief marriage to cellist Valezina Frohawk. Moving to Tetbury in the Cotswolds then Ringwood in New Forest, Vernon became a lepidopterist. His butterfly collection is now in the National Museum of Wales in Cardiff. In the 1960s he loaned his family portraits back to Lydiard House and eventually sold them to Swindon Corporation for a reasonable price to be permanently displayed in the State Rooms.
Vernon noted on 11 January 1967, “Well, as the autumn tints were allowed to manifest their full glory for longer than usual by the absence of gales or frosts, so too did the late summer butterflies – Red Admiral, Peacock, Comma, Speckled Wood – as well as that widespread migrant moth the Silver Y, and also the small Copper Butterfly with its lustrous wings seen flitting about an unusual wayside plant of the wild succory, its deep flowers still conspicuous near the end of October.” He would appreciate the great butterfly summer revival. Data from the national survey The Big Butterfly Count confirms 4,170 Painted Ladies in 2024; 15,868 in 2025; and 85,508 this year.
The black and white photograph of Valezina Frohawk in the Drawing Room doesn’t capture the blaze of her auburn hair. Despite her exotic name, she hailed from Beddington in Surrey, according to The Lydiard Archives. In 1950 Vernon and Valezina married in a low key wedding at Christ Church in Sutton, Surrey. Aged 54, he was 17 years her senior. The bride to be said at the time “both my fiancé and I are very retiring people and we want a quiet wedding”. The match made on paper was not one made in heaven. Two years later Valezina was granted a decree nisi of nullity for non consummation. Vernon’s shellshock was probably a contributing factor to the marriage not working. Valezina continued to call herself Lady Bolingbroke until her death aged 86 in 2000.
On 3 May 1955, Swindon Town Clerk and conservation lobbyist David Murray John drafted an invitation letter, “The Corporation will shortly complete the restoration of the State Rooms at Lydiard House and are arranging to hold a short Opening Ceremony at 3pm on Saturday 14 May next. The Most Honourable Marquess of Lansdowne, who has most generously loaned the Corporation pictures and furniture for the furnishings of the rooms, has very kindly promised to perform the Opening Ceremony and I am requested by the Worshipful Mayor to extend a cordial invitation to two or three members of your organisation to be present. Tea will be provided at 4.30pm.”
Peter Thornton writes in Authentic Décor The Domestic Interior 1620 to 1920 (1984) that French architect and engineer Jean Courtonne published a treatise in 1725 which included a section on “distribution” meaning “the use an architect should make of the space on which one seeks to erect a building”. Cours d’Architecture by architect and writer Augustin-Charles d’Aviler had 34 years earlier promoted the concept of formal apartments or suites of rooms. Architect and garden designer Jean-Baptiste Alexandre Le Blond published a revised edition of Cours d’Architecture in 1710.
Peter states, “Le Blond explains that the state rooms (appartements de parade) ought to be at the front of the house; the private apartments (de commode) at the back.” A state apartment should include a vestibule, two antechambers, a salon, a bedchamber, a grand cabinet, a closet, an arrière cabinet and three garderobes. He adds, “The arrangements always seem clear and neatly calculated to promote a pleasant way of living. This is evident on paper: it must also have been apparent to the visitor to such new buildings, insofar as the reception rooms were concerned, the visitor was not meant to be aware of the private rooms.” This internal layout approach would cross the Channel and influence country house design for much of the 18th century, including Lydiard.
This is not space as container. This is space as status. Each State Room is a design statement in itself from the broken pediment bookcases and matching chimneypiece of the Library to the Queen’s House Greenwich replica plasterwork ceiling (ribbed into rectangular portions decorated with swags and a female mask at each intersection), 1820s red flock wallpaper and 18th century Carrera marble chimneypiece sculpted by Henry Cheere in the Drawing Room. All the State Rooms have heavily decorated ceilings: Roger flirts with Rococo in the Dining Room plasterwork. The Dressing Room, a mere 4.5 metres by three metres, has a 1630s stained glass window set in the apse depicting a vast range of flora and fauna, hunting and sailing, and mythical creatures. The Drawing Room and State Bedroom both measure 9.1 metres by six metres. Christoper Hussey calls the State Rooms “exquisite examples of the taste and craftmanship of the 1740s”.
The presentation approach Swindon Town Council has taken to the interiors follows an eclectic mix of restored plasterwork, original furniture and art, and some reproduction paintings, falling between academia and imagination. It’s as if time is not a conventional linear journey, so allowing coexisting layers to bleed into each other. The line between the past and present of Lydiard Tregoze is a permeable one. This approach does work (although best to lose the cardboard character cutouts which inform neither infant nor adult), delivering a vivid depiction of how the rooms may have looked in times past. On a continuing frown of disapproval, that most unfortunately positioned tree blocking the important southwestern view of the house from the lake needs to be removed. The original approach to the house was centred on the southwest corner where the exterior appears at its most Palladian.
The 1,200 hectare estate has shrunk over the years to 260 hectares. The parkland, woodland and fields are enjoyed for free by the citizens of Swindon – and a herd of Clydesdale horses. The creep of suburbia can only be glimpsed from limited long distance views. A small hotel is discretely attached to the wing of the house. The 18th century stables are now a café; the adjoining 18th century Walled Garden has a £5 entry fee. The State Rooms are occasionally open to the public for a bargain price of £20 which includes coffee and scones in the hotel. A small shop in the Lobby has a range of branded useful souvenirs. Who wouldn’t want a Palladian glasses wipe or tea towel?
There’s a postscript. An even happier ending. In 2026, Swindon Borough Council has granted planning permission for Lydiard Park Academy to occupy part of the ground floor and most of the first floor of the house totalling 964 square metres as a sixth form centre. The Academy is located to the southeast of Lydiard Park, a kilometre’s walk away. The education use will take up much of the service wing which was rebuilt in the 1830s as well as the floorspace above the State Rooms, recently occupied by underused council conference facilities.
BBA Architects have kept the internal structural changes to a minimum. Historic Building Consultant Peter Davenport confirms in his supporting statement to the planning application that the house is “fairly securely attributed to Roger Morris”. He continues, “The building’s architectural significance is very high as it is Listed Grade I and is a well preserved example, both inside and out, of the work of an architect noted for his ability and influence on the Palladian movement of the earlier 18th century.” Peter adds, “Its community significance is also high”. Neither The Georgian Group nor Historic England objected to the proposals. Soon, 120 students will join tourists and hotel guests where St Johns and their servants once dwelt.
Twilight falls on the basement and portico free Lydiard House as the camera and notepad are packed away. No applause. No encore. Just the wide open night.
