Hartwell House is like staying at
a friend’s grand country house. The architecture, gardens, paintings and
furniture are exquisite but no one makes a fuss about them. Staff treat you
as if you are returning home, the bathrooms are reminder of a time before
water shortages: overpackaged bottles and soaps, power showers and his an’
hers basins, and the beds demonstrate the lunacy of today’s vogue for hard
matresses.
In fact the bed was so soft I would happily have spent all my time at Hartwell
House on my back for that and other reasons - like the hotel’s sensational
ceilings and its spa
treatments.
The Rococco plasterwork in the Great Hall by the Italians Artari and Bagutti
takes us to Horace’s garden near Rome and into a mythological garden where
the Minator is watching Knowledge sketch the fall of Rome. Guests admire
this from cloud-soft sofas and armchairs around a log fire in a fireplace
guarded by fierce man/pillar herms.
The jaw-dropping splendour of this room, by the eighteenth century architect
James Gibbs, is a curtain raiser to more beautful rooms: the library,
drawing room and morning room. And then there is the Jacobean staircase. The
ballusters are carved into soldiers, bare breasted women and more while some
of the figures, waving weapons or scowling, stand proud of the handrail.
I loved it but Louise XVIII’s (Louise the Fat) Queen, Marie Josaphine, whose
room I used at Hartwell, was so spooked by the figures that she had them
taken down.
The French Royals, and their court, stayed at Hartwell from 1809-1814 and
turned the second floor roof terrace into a smallholding with crops, rabbits
and chickens.
Bizarre, given the 90 acres of grounds at their disposal. The gardens, or
rather the early eighteenth century formal gardens which were swept away by
the landscape craze, had made me want to visit Hartwell. They were captured
in a series of contemporary paintings by Balthazar Nebot and, in my head, I
have strolled around the canal, bowling green, wildernesses and follies for
many years.
So it was intriguiging to stroll the grounds as they are today, trying to
picture them as they had been. The bridge across lake is a span from a
bridge at Kew which arrived here in the early twentieth century. Later in
the century the landscaper Sir Geoffrey Jellicoe moved the equestrian statue
of Frederick Prince of Wales from the depths of the garden to outside the
front door and said of Hartwell that it represented: "a saga of
historic landscape design: nearly all periods can be found... estate house,
and gardens blossomed under the Tudors, and again in the eighteenth century,
when James Gibbs was called in to reorganize the gardens and park".
In the morning the park had been given a makeover – the first frost of the
year had painted the landscape white.
The intervening few hours gave time for tea. The full tea with scones and
cakes costs £16 and looked lovely although I saved myself for dinner, which
was good rather than outstanding. I started with fois gras which was
excellent but my main course of fish was disappointing and pudding – pear
ice cream with a hot chocolate cake – was well made but not to my taste.
Having said that the set menu at £38 for three courses including coffee,
sweetmeats, VAT and service, was good value.
The Royal Room, where I stayed, is a dual aspect haven packed with intriguing
pictures, artefacts, and squashy armchairs. The four poster, roughly the
size of a tennis court, was beyond comfort and, given a chance, I would have
hauled it down the Jacobean staircase and motored home with it.
The evening after I stayed at Hartwell I mentioned my criminal thoughts to an
Oxford don who said it was probabaly a good idea I had resisted because
Hartwell is rather good at security – "It’s where we put our high
profile visitors" said the don, whose own college is a fortress and
whose guests include Bill Clinton.
Thinking back to the charmingly discreet staff I wondered whether all of them
where crack shots, with guns stuck down their garters. Jonathan Thompson,
the hotel’s manager would certainly fit the pre-Daniel Craig James Bond
mould.
And if some of the staff have a dual function it would be in keeping with
Hartwell House itself, which is Jacobean from one side and eighteenth
century from the other where a whole new house was built and eventually
amalgamated with the old.
Bottom line: Rooms cost from £160 to £650 per night to include early
morning tea, continental breakfast, use of the spa, service and VAT. A "special
occasion break" costs from £425 -£800 per night based on two people
sharing and include a dinner allowance, champagne, chocolates and a VIP
shopping voucher for Bicester Village. A three course set menu plus coffee
and sweetmeats costs £38 including service and VAT.
Best thing: The most comfortable bed in the world. And the service.
Worst thing: A roller blind in the bathroom stopped the original
shutters from closing.
Access all areas: The hotel is wheelchair accessible in all areas and
two rooms have been adapted for guests in a wheelchair. The spa is a one
minute walk from the main hotel which can be done in a wheelchair but staff
will drive guests to and from the spa if necessary. Wheelchair users do not
have access to the Spa’s Buttery Café
Need to know: Hartwell House, Oxford Road nr Aylesbury,
Buckinghamshire. HP17 8NR; www.hartwell-house.com;
tel. 01296 747444
Food: 7 out of 10
Service: 10 out of 10
Room: 9 out of 10
Value: Priceless
