AS did so many Victorian towns and cities, Arbroath struggled to find space for its dead. It was to address this problem that a new graveyard—the prosaically named Arbroath Western Cemetery—was laid out on the outskirts of the town in 1867. When Elizabeth Allan-Fraser, heiress of nearby Hospitalfield, died six years later, on November 23, 1873, it offered a relatively unconstrained site for her mourning husband, Patrick—a painter, architect and benefactor of the Arts whose remarkable life was described last week—to create a very unusual monument and resting place for her, her parents and himself.
Allan-Fraser was firmly of the opinion that architecture should be functional. That probably made him reluctant simply to erect a grand funerary monument. Instead, over a period of nine years, from 1875 to 1884, he designed and constructed one of the most splendid mortuary chapels in Britain It was conceived as the architectural centrepiece of the new cemetery and intended to be suitable for use in the funeral services of the dead of all Christian denominations. Incorporated within it are mausolea for two pairs of tombs, one for his wife’s parents and the other for himself and his wife.
From the exterior, the Fraser Mortuary Chapel forms a highly eclectic essay in the Scots Baronial style, an idiom that—inspired by the novels of Walter Scott—Allan-Fraser had already fulsomely explored over the previous 30 years in his architecture at both Hospitalfield and his shooting lodge at Blackcraig Castle in Perthshire. The chapel is also very thoughtfully designed, with detailing that expresses its dual character as a monument and building of religious purpose.
この記事は Country Life UK の September 02, 2020 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です ? サインイン
この記事は Country Life UK の September 02, 2020 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.