Treasure house or treasure garage, Beaulieu is a great day out

In 1985 the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC hosted what's since become known as one of the most influential exhibitions of modern history. "The Treasure Houses of Britain: 500 years of Private Patronage and Art Collecting" fanned the flames of American anglophilia, established "country house studies" as a discipline in British universities and super-charged the transition of the British stately home from aristocratic playground to heritage enterprise. At the show's heart was the argument that British country houses, though often heavily foreign in their architectural influences, furnishings, art, and even the craftsmen who built them, came together to create something entirely unique to Britain.

At the time, I was a senior at Northwestern University, majoring in journalism but minoring in history and studying the British past with renown Tudor specialist Lacey Baldwin Smith. Journalism would give me a career, but Smith's classes were my passion. He'd been to the exhibition, of course, and sang its praises. I was dying to go. But I was a poor student, about to graduate into a tough job market with $55k in student loans hanging over my head. (More than $131,000 at today's value.) No matter how badly I wanted to get to Washington that year, I just couldn't make it happen.

My interest in the show and its exhibitions didn't fade, however, so in the years to come when I finally got to the UK ... first as tourist, then on work assignments, and finally as immigrant and naturalised citizen ... I followed the trail of what I'd missed back to the sources. In England, a group of 10 privately-owned houses formed a marketing consortium off the back of the show called "The Treasure Houses of England" and I visited them all. Some multiple times. 

All but one. Beaulieu remained a mystery.

Given that I have shared a county with the place for a decade and have driven by the entrance multiple times, this may seem unbelievable. But for me, Beaulieu had one significant problem: it was best known … and priced … for its motor museum. The Victorian Gothic house had little to recommend it by way of architecture or interiors. So I never went out of my way. All that changed with the need to entertain and impress a 12-year-old godson.

He was impressed. And, I admit, even I enjoyed the cars. I have pragmatic view of motoring. One car is much like the other, they exist to get you from point A to point B, and as long as it’s comfortable enough for a road trip and big enough to pick up visitors with luggage from the airport, I’m not bothered about make or model. I am puzzled by the whole obsession with“driving experience”, think people spending vast amounts on performance cars are idiots, and have been delighted with the idea that electric cars will silence all that silly engine noise. But I do love design, appreciate anything handcrafted, and I am intrigued by how things are marketed. And there is enough of all of that at the National Motor Museum to keep even this autophobe intrigued.

Early motor cars have more in common with horse-drawn carriages than the things we drive today, and Beaulieu has a hefty collection from the late 19th and early 20th century. Most are rich with gleaming bronze, polished wood, and hand stitched leather. One quirky example had a round driver’s windscreen like a giant monocle, and a horn-shaped basket on the side for umbrellas and walking sticks. 

Best of all from that era, the film version of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang sits in the centre of the museum on its own plinth. There are also race cars, motorcycles, James Bond cars and super-fast prototypes. Those who want to dive deep can pop into smaller galleries on everything from tyres to how engines work to green motoring. There’s an early 20th century street with old shop fronts and commercial vehicles, campervans, an amphibious car, and even a whole section on car-inspired children’s toys. Yes, it was good fun.

But as the boys started to linger in a car park filled with vehicles brought by enthusiasts (it was Aston Martin day) I started to get anxious. The day was spinning away and I had yet to lay eyes on any art or architecture. Is the house worth the effort? If that is all you come to look at, probably not. It is an attractive place with mediaeval roots, though most of what you see today is a Victorian reinterpretation and expansion of the abbey gatehouse that once stood here. There’s lots of wallpaper of the type Burgess put into the Houses of Parliament. Some beautiful rooms with vaulted ceilings and atmospheric Gothic windows. But you only see about five historically-furnished rooms along the public route, best among them a great Hall, a sitting room, and a dining room. Nothing particularly noteworthy on the art and furniture front.At least, not in the traditional sense.

The most interesting things in the house, to me, were the artworks of the current owner’s mother. Belinda Crossley is a well-known artist working in tapestry and embroidery. Rooms here show wall hangings as well as paintings, panels and clothing design. There were some spectacular things on display, my favourite being a wall hanging somewhere between Klimt and a Tolkien book illustration. 

One assumes her artistic flare has flown down to her son, the fourth Baron Montagu, who works as a graphic designer and had turned both house and grounds over to a massive display of modern sculpture all up for sale. From abstract to traditional, small pieces for a tabletop to massive items for the garden, there was something for everyone here. (Though most of it at hefty prices.) Had I been on my own, I would have cut the cars short and spent much more time on the sculpture trail.

There is more to see in the grounds than most people could race through in a day. The ruins of the original Abbey are worth exploring. They are both picturesque and historically noteworthy for being the only abbey in England founded by King John. There are some pretty long borders … exploding with a fantastically colourful range of dahlias at the moment … and  several garden “rooms” walled by hedges. These run the gamut from working vegetable plots to a romantic rose garden to a delightful topiary garden on the theme of Alice in Wonderland. There’s a monorail you can ride around the grounds to view everything from on high. 

A small display in one of the garden buildings tells the house’s story in training intelligence officers during World War II. If you haven’t had enough cars, there’s a “World of Top Gear” section (I avoided that, but the boys liked it.) and a separate exhibition on cars in the movies (that I might have checked out if it hadn’t been hidden behind the testosterone-drenched Top Gear franchise,) There’s a playground area full of climbing frames and zip wires targeted at younger guests. There are falconry exhibitions and a proper hunting mews; logical since from its entry into private hands at the Dissolution of the Monasteries to relatively recent times, Beaulieu was used more as a hunting lodge than a main home. Much of the charm of the place comes from the fact that nobody has ever done the kind of massive remodelling that would have wiped away the past for something new.

At £16 per adult (more if special events like the Aston Martin day are on), it’s good value for money for a family day out. But if all you’re interested in is the house, gardens and ruins, it would be a pricey visit. Beaulieu is a member of the Historic Houses Association but doesn’t allow members to use benefits on pre-booked tickets. Which are currently necessary given the pandemic and the crowds caused by all the “staycations”. If I can use my membership to drop in at some future date, I would like to spend more time exploring the ruins, and pay more attention to the falconer. 

Beaulieu’ s not a traditional “treasure house” of Britain, but it did give us a family day that we each treasured for different reasons.