Of mice and men
ecclesiastical quarters. He built the choir stalls at Workington Priory, interior screens for Benedictine monks at Fort Angus in Scotland and the library at Ampleforth College, complete with huge tables, one of which weighed more than a ton.
This was a prototype of a refectory table at Peterborough Cathedral and the inspiration for a massive table – one of many notable domestic commissions – for Frampton Court in Gloucestershire.
By 1919, Robert had virtually taken over from his father, giving him the opportunity to develop his own ideas and to experiment with designs based on original 16th and 17th-century styles.
His earliest patron at Ampleforth Abbey was Father Paul Nevill (18821954) for whom he produced furniture, latterly in association with the great architect Sir Giles Scott (1880-1960) over a 30-year period from 1920. Scott is particularly well known for his work on the enormous library at Cambridge University and the chapel at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford
As a result, Robert was commissioned by York Minster and by scores of parish churches throughout England. Other major domestic commissions included Upsall Castle, Thirsk and Brough Hall, Catterick.
By the 1920s, Robert’s style of sound construction, employing simple lines, expertly seasoned English oak, cowhide and hinges and fastenings fashioned from wrought iron became highly sought after in homes around the world.
In 1928, he and his staff of 10 workers sent a dining table and set of four chairs to his first American customer. Another order came from South Africa for the home of the Bishop of Natal, while to a New Zealand home was sent a large owl carved in oak – with the ever-present mouse held in the bird’s claws.
The origin of the mouse signature came about by accident. Robert was carving a beam in a church roof when one of the men working with him grumbled that in spite of all their hard work, they were as poor as church mice.
This caught Robert’s imagination and there and then, he carved a mouse on the beam. The idea stuck in his mind and he liked the idea of the busy little mouse chewing away at the oak with its chisel-like teeth.
He felt it symbolised his own work – industry in quiet places, which he adopted as his motto – so he vowed to carve a mouse on every piece of his work thereafter. Sadly, however, to this day that original church mouse has never been found.