Preserving upper houses
John Smith
It is to the credit of the National Trust that its history is so boring. Only twice have there been any ructions. It was founded by three idealists, Sir Robert Hunter, Octavia Hill and Canon Rawnsley, who between them had the zeal, imagination and practi- cal sense necessary to get it going; and idealistic it still was when the Country House Scheme started in the Thirties. The first three estates with big houses to come to the Trust were all given by high-minded folk — Lord Lothian, the Aclands and the Trevelyans.
However, when I joined its committees in 1952 this Scheme and its consequences had come to engross the Trust. The com- mittees were patrician in tone, of high quality but without much interest in the public. When, at one of our meetings, Lord `Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?' De La Warr, a fine man, I thought, who had been both a Labour and a Tory Minis- ter, suggested putting up signs to help peo- ple find our properties, there was an embarrassed silence. The Chairman, Lord Crawford, lived in Scotland and the Trust was run by Lord Esher. He was wise, but he had a frivolous manner, which affected others who lacked his wisdom, though it made our meetings fun. At one of these, I remember, approval was sought to pull down a dilapidated barn at Avebury. Lord Esher asked James Lees-Milne whether that would be all right. 'So long as it's done secretly,' he replied. 'I don't think it ought to get about that the National Trust is demolishing mediaeval barns'. 'You mean we must do it at night, in masks?' said Lord Esher.
On another occasion, a proposal was put forward to use Upton House, near Poole, for which no tenant could be found, as part of a zoo. 'They say it won't spoil the house,' said Eardley Knollys, the Trust's local rep- resentative. 'What are the rooms like inside?' asked Lord Esher. 'They're nice 18th-century rooms with good cornices, mouldings and fireplaces', answered Eard- ley. At this point the Duke of Wellington, who was an architect, leant over the plans which had been submitted and said in his mandarin voice: 'The house is marked here "Reptiles and Monkeys". Do you mean to say that these rooms with good fireplaces and so forth won't be spoilt if they're used as a reptilitay?"Well', said Lord Esher, 'I think the reptiles would have to live out- side for a bit until they get used to 18th- century interiors.'
Lulled and wafted by these light airs the Trust, by the time of Lord Esher's retire- ment in 1961, was drifting towards a rocky shore, on which some thought that they could see unfriendly-looking natives. She was kept in good order by the crew, but those on the bridge were still entranced, and clumsy efforts to rouse them were unpopular. Suddenly, however, the ship was boarded by Commander Conrad Rawnsley, recruited to run Enterprise Nep- tune, who started to lay about him on the upper deck, voicing home truths. He was rightly dumped over the side, but the com- motion he caused — the first Extraordinary General Meeting in the Trust's history, fol- lowed by a Committee of Enquiry leading to a new Act of Parliament — finally woke up the officers, and under a fresh captain, the jolly, modern and public-spirited Lord Antrim, the Trust altered course and sailed away towards the present.
Lord Antrim's successor as Chairman, Lord Gibson, had the great merit of being a member of the Establishment without being tarred by its brush. This successfully took by surprise the troublemakers at the next Extraordinary General Meeting, called to protest about the construction on Trust land of a Bomb-proof bunker for the RAF. After him came Dame Jennifer Jenk- ins, who had the further distinction of being the first Chairman in living memory who was not a peer, let alone a man. Her book on the Trust is a well-arranged, work- manlike company history, printed clearly, on good paper. Of these three authors she is the only one to allow the Duke of West- minster some of the credit for the birth of the National Trust. By agreeing in advance to become its first President he gave this novel creature instant and extreme respectability. She points out also that the present Duke of Bedford was the first of the new-style country house owners, who make their seats earn money by turning them into something completely different. Not unexpectedly she deals best, of the three, with the politics at all times sur- rounding the Trust, and shows how in its early years it was a campaigning pressure group, and actively acquisitive, even of country houses — not just the safety net which it later became, But, for all her scholarship and intelligence, and knowl- edge of the Trust in recent times, she can- not write at first hand about the battles and bumpy rides of the Sixties. Merlin Waterson is a good-hearted servant of the Trust. His book is much the shortest of the three. Dame Jennifer's work is for the library, but Merlin, with 130 illus- trations, is moving towards the coffee table. He comes with a recommendation from the Queen Mother. Despite his research, it is the out-of-doors with which he deals best, rather than history or architecture (although of course a lot of that is out of doors too, as anyone knows who has tried to look at it in Welsh or even English weather). What he does show is the loyalty which the Trust wins from those who work for it; like all great institutions it returns to You whatever you give it, transmuted, and with increase. The hero of his story is really James Lees-Milne — as he almost is of Dame Jennifer's; an eloquent survivor from early days, he plays a part in almost every chapter.
These two books are written by insiders, by admirers. Of course they contain some criticism, but works of piety they are. Not so with Paula Weideger, an American who came to London in 1979. With an estate the size of Northamptonshire the National Trust is an unmissable target, of which she takes advantage. Her book, the biggest and least well written of the three, is one long whinge. She grumbles when 'the family' lives in the house and when it does not, when the donor's wishes are observed by the Trust and when they are not. There is even a grumble about someone who is not allowed to swim in the moat. To read her as she crabs our upper classes one would think she did not know that her own coun- try's Declaration of Independence was signed by two Old Etonians.
However, Paula Weideger does perform a service. She shows that there are just not enough skeletons in the Trust cupboard to flesh out a book. It is extraordinary that such a large organisation, with an ever more complicated task, should be so well run, adaptable and humane. It offers its members, and others, the chance to take part together in a great and many-sided work, preserving a part of our country as it all once was, and providing everybody with ease of mind and spirit and the opportunity to do and see things which they could not do or see before. When I was in Leningrad in Stalin's time I spotted a notice which said 'Keep off the grass: it is yours'. It is not like that here yet, thanks to the dear NT.
Sir John Smith is the founder of the Manifold and Landmark Charitable Trusts.
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