I have more reason than most writers to be grateful to the many people who have generously given their time, expertise and enthusiasm to the creation of this book. This is because it did not begin life as an investigation of a Pre-Raphaelite artist, nor an account of a compulsive love story, nor indeed as the proposal for a book of any kind.
It began as no more than a simple enquiry into the building history of a minor historic house, with the purpose of informing its restoration. In these circumstances, there was little incentive for anyone to become entangled in the confusion thrown up by our first faltering discoveries. Even after Robert Bateman had emerged to enrich the narrative, the project revolved only around a maltreated house, an obscure artist and an unknown, aspiring author – scarcely an enthralling prospect for a potential contributor to engage in.
Yet from the very beginning I have been overwhelmed by people’s willingness to go to untold trouble and inconvenience in order to contribute to the research process. They appeared magically from every hidden place and condition of life. They ranged from local people, through historical societies, art critics, museum curators, craftsmen, writers and heritage bodies, to friends, family and descendants of characters in the story. It takes a special kind of good nature to provide support for an unknown, untried endeavour – especially if it holds out no prospect of direct return or recognition. None the less, that help is exactly what I received over and over again during the long gestation of this book, and I am profoundly grateful to all the patient people who gave so unstintingly to enable it to be brought to completion.
To begin at the beginning, with Biddulph Old Hall. All the members of the local Historical and Genealogical Society were dedicated to saving the building and had played a key role before our arrival in having it registered as a Building at Risk. Derek Wheelhouse and Roland Machin, in particular, brought us crucial pieces of evidence that opened the way to our discovery of Robert Bateman’s association with the house and the Clough stream. Countless local people gave us valuable information about the history of the area, including Fred Hughes, Paul Baker, Michael Bond, the Bostock family, Margaret Smith, Bill Ridgway, Terry and Mavis Woods, and Stuart and Ann Thomas.
As the serious process of starting to halt the decay of the building’s fabric got under way, we had invaluable support from our own wonderfully loyal team of Jeff Black, Ian Metcalf, Damion Moss, Barry Gold and Mark Thompson. Graham Holland gave wise counsel, as did John Yates, Stuart Ellis, John Tiernan and Ian George of English Heritage, Dr Martin Bridge of the Oxford Dendrochronology Lab and Dr Faith Cleverdon. The saving of the Tower drew heavily on the experience of Will Mellor and Rory Moore of Grosvenor Construction and the skills of Dennis Holgate. The renovation of the Great Hall relied on the finesse of Linda Walton and Dennis Eckersley from Design Lights, John Fosker, Ben Allport and his team, Richard Rhodes, Dave Broadbent, David Clayton, John Hetherington and Ben Newman. As the story led us into the world of Pre-Raphaelite art, we would have been lost without the guidance of Richard Dorment, Julian Hartnoll, Amanda Kavanagh, Colin Cruise, Fiona McCarthy, Dennis Lannigan, Janet Street Porter, Bob Maddocks and Robert Tichenor-Barrett. The Yale Center for British Art, particularly Gillian Forrester, Cassandra Albinson, Melissa Fournier, Abigail Armitstead and Scott Wilcox, set our search for Bateman in motion by sending us an image of their painting and explaining the strange story of its acquisition under a wrong attribution.
Equally vital was the help of Crestina Forcina at the Wellcome Foundation and Claire Hancock at Bridgeman Art. The staff at the Whitworth Art Gallery, Manchester, Lichfield Cathedral, Ironbridge Heritage Centre and the Staffordshire Archives provided important information at crucial moments in the research, as did Thomas Lloyd of the Lockinge Trust, Piers Monckton at Stretton Hall, Anna-Louise Mason at Castle Howard, Craig Sherwood at the Warrington Museum and Art Gallery, Dominic Farr from the William Salt Library and also Jean Milton and Sam Richardson from the Potteries Museum and Art Gallery. Special thanks also to all the long-suffering individuals and families who allowed us to invade their beautiful homes in pursuit of images or records, particularly Sir Richard and Lady Anne Baker-Wilbraham, The Earl and Countess of Oxford and Asquith, Edward Benthall, Lord Camoys, Anne Pommeroy, Viscount Harberton and Robin de Beaumont.
I am especially grateful for the cooperation and help of the descendants of the Bateman family, many of whom were startled to discover their relationship to Robert. These include John and Joyce Beauchamp, Jeremy and Prudence Burke, Jenifer Beauchamp and her children, Ruth Vilmi, and her brother Gordon Humphreys.
Thanks also to Heather Holden-Brown for being the first professional person to interface with the manuscript and her advice on how to proceed from there. A special thank you to naughty Roger Murray, not only for his lovely cartoon, but for his impeccably correct assessment of the manuscript as far too long! Almost as irrepressible was Paul Worpole, whose infectious enthusiasm was surpassed only by the brilliance of his photographs.
The other friend to whom I owe a real debt of gratitude is Pat Harvey who, at an unhappy time for her, dedicated endless hours to proofreading and annotating every single page of the huge original manuscript before we sent it out, and patiently nursing me through every twist and turn of the publishing process since then. Equally I cannot ignore the encouragement of my brother David, whose constant conviction that the book was sure to become a blockbuster movie was important at several dispiriting moments, and Iris Vowles for intervening to help us acquire the Clough, which would have been impossible without her.
But without doubt the defining moment in the book’s fortunes arrived when John Nicoll opened the manuscript during his Christmas holidays and read it. He spent the next three days working out how best to publish it. He visited Biddulph, then put in place the editorial and design skills of Jane Havell to distil its potential and shape, and hone it for publication. The debt I owe to both these consummately gifted and professional people is immeasurable.
Of course, anyone who reads this book will understand that the whole of the adventure it records was a joint experience. Every single triumph and frustration was filtered through the prism of the relationship between Brian Vowles and myself. Together we perceived and reacted to each revelation and pondered its significance until its meaning became clear. Beyond that, all the labour of transcribing, correcting and ordering it was done by him alone. Only the will to capture the fleeting sensations in words before they were lost was mine. I could not and would not have created this piece of work without him. I think he knows that, so I don’t need to attempt an impossible thank you.
NIGEL DALY
February 2014
