Finding Inspiration At Arundel Castle

They had coordinated their son’s wedding to coincide with the seasonal tulip display.

In this case, though, the display featured 32,000 tulips planted in the magnificent gardens of Arundel Castle. The Duke and Duchess of Norfolk were celebrating their son, the Earl of Norfolk’s, betrothal. They calibrated the timing so that their world-famous and world-class collection of tulips was at its height.

At the time, I was fortunate to be working for clients in London who convinced me to drop my design baton for a side trip to Arundel, to view the astounding garden and perhaps experience the festive preparations as well. I was hardly disappointed and came away quite inspired.William the Conqueror deeded the earldom of Arundel to Roger de Montgomery, who was charged with defending the southern coast of England and the small port town fed by the River Arun. In 1067, Roger built a small fortification which soon became a castle (in the fairy tale sense) with 10-foot-thick walls.

Skip forward half a millennium, when the Howard family, the current Dukes of Norfolk, and God forbid—Catholics—were then deeded the Earldom by that ever so kindly monarch, King Richard III. After having lost their heads several times, laying siege, and pissing off Elizabeth I by attempting to wed Mary, Queen of Scots, the Howards sensibly turned to decorating in the 19th century. With his castle in ruins, rather successfully destroyed by Cromwell’s parliamentarian forces, the 11th Duke of Norfolk, known as the “drunken Duke,” carried out a complete restoration. Despite his inebriated state—and we know decorators enjoy their spirits—Charles managed to pull off a major castle “reno” in high Victorian style, complete with 16 bedrooms and some en suite bathrooms!

Henry XV, Duke of Norfolk, really inherited his family’s designer gene—evidenced by his not only installing hugely expensive electricity, but also establishing a spectacular Regency library, a magnificent Baron’s Hall, a 50-foot-tall dining room seating 200, and the lavishly furnished guest quarters. So stunning was it all that when Queen Victoria paid a visit she commented, “Such comfortable small rooms!”

As one might expect, Arundel Castle, one of the great treasure houses of Britain, boasts huge collections of portraits, including some stunning works by Canaletto, Gainsborough, Reynolds, Mijtens and a couple of Van Dykes that I wanted to take home to our cottage in the Springs.

I came away quite inspired, because what one might consider a large drafty, late-medieval, stone castle was truly a comfortable, welcoming home. Floors were laid with large patterned oriental carpets, while leaded glass windows were framed with thickly lined curtains, also richly patterned, but not necessarily “matched.”

Boldly carved dark brown furniture populated the rooms, lending a sculptural presence and counter-balancing the granite casings and thresholds. Plump upholstery in gaufrage velvets, textured chenilles and bold damasks welcomed the visitors. Lamps covered by amber tinted and fringed shades emanated warmth. Tables and chests groaning beneath an array of silver picture frames spoke of much-loved friends and cherished relatives. And of course every room was populated by huge portraits that drew the inquisitive guest for a closer look. Yes, it was a mish-mosh; yes it was a hodge-podge—but aesthetically it worked all together. Rooms that were edited by nostalgia and practicality. And perhaps given that the home was about to host an enormous wedding party, the guest rooms were filled with casual arrangements of rhododendron leaves, daffodils and ferns clipped from the bountiful gardens.

I found the most intriguing point of interest at Arundel Castle to be the walled garden—a vast collection of garden “rooms” collated brilliantly by the talented and somewhat eccentric team of landscape designers Isabel and Julian Bannerman. In this particular garden, the design, though contemporary in nature, felt perfectly wed to the chunky, fortified castle architecture. So many of the National Trust gardens I have visited reflect a gardening style or period, but often do not feel so perfectly aligned with the estate’s architecture, as if the garden were a world unto itself.

Not so with the Bannermans’ interpretation of the Arundel gardens. The garden structures were constructed with hefty hewn English oak beams, as if readying themselves for sheathings of granite blocks. Aged to a charcoal gray, the structures were silhouetted somewhat ominously against the rugged fortress walls. Almost aggressive in character, the gazebos, trellised allées and temples achieved a noble strength. The entrance featured a reflecting pool surrounded by a mass of cerise tulips, interspersed with domineering weathered oak urns, whose finials were gilded fronds and whose golden lions’ heads spit out streams of water. All this is backed by a cracked oak façade seemingly carved by Maurice Sendak.

The temple structure takes classical architecture for a rough spin with the column capitals and architrave decked out in moose antlers.

The “Stumpery,” a bewitching favorite of Prince Charles and the Bannermans, showcases an otherworldly magic. Though it is a simple idea—pulling out stumps of ancient trees, roots and all, turning them upside down and setting plants in their cracks, crotches and crevices—the effect is haunting and transcendental and ecological too! The Bannermans chose euphorbias and strong ferns and other mystical, alien-looking plants to help emphasize the surrealistic effect. When inter-planted with cheery tulips and lady’s mantle, that specifically English, wacky self-contradiction shone forth.

Although steeped in history, Arundel continues to remind us that the English character and sensibility and viewpoint never grows old. While thoroughly respecting and preserving the past, the English can layer it with an up-to-date interpretation with success and imagination, an experience I strongly admire and find inspiring.