A few weeks ago I was part of a small group standing in the rain looking down on what should be one of Europe's finest and most historic panoramas, Stonehenge, set in the mystic context of its landscape.
From this damp Wiltshire hill, the ill-placed car park and visitor facilities looked more like a tinkers' camp pressing up against the circle of stones; meanwhile cars sped along a busy road within yards of what English Heritage rightly describes as one of the wonders of the world.
The recent consultation document on the future of Stonehenge stated: "The current visitor facilities and parking along with the A344 road adjacent to Stonehenge represent a significant adverse impact on the Outstanding Universal Value of the World Heritage Site." It is an understatement. Stonehenge is a national disgrace.
There is much talk now of "legacy". In current Olympian terms, it slips in and out of focus, so that one moment it's about sport and the next takes the form of urban regeneration. Somehow it seems legacy will change slowly into heritage for which as a nation we still struggle to find adequate support.
The state of Stonehenge is a reminder that the struggle is not yet over. Ben Cowell's The Heritage Obsession traces the history of this long-running concern to safeguard England's threatened heritage. It looks at our own legacies from other generations, following a history of continual debate and placing it in its historical context.
He begins quite properly with a search for a definition of the word "heritage", a word as slippery as "legacy". Turning inevitably to the Oxford English Dictionary, he finds the sense of inheritance. He doesn't however, hold on to this for long, settling instead for his own, "an ongoing concern for the tangible and intangible remains of the past, for the benefit of present and future generations".
It's a curious interpretation, placing the emphasis on the act of caring rather the focus of the care, and one that is almost impossible to sustain. In the very next sentence, Cowell talks of heritage as "historic buildings, landscapes, archaeological collections, memories, traditions", careful to include the current concern for the intangible, but careless perhaps to exclude the museum object, particularly when the book contains a slightly diversionary section on Victorian museums.
The history that Cowell records is not one of national glory and achievement, but rather the struggle of passionate and determined individuals first to take action for themselves and later to mobilise reluctant governments. Research as recently as 1905 showed Britain to be behind nearly all other European countries in its legal protection of heritage.
The 1882 Act to protect national monuments had taken nine years to become law. By 1895, despite his best efforts as the first inspector of ancient monuments, the redoubtable General Pitt Rivers had reported that "Neither Gvt. nor parliament care a button for ancient monuments".
Fifty years later, despite the protection afforded by listing introduced in legislation in 1944 and 1947, an estimated 282 country houses were pulled down in the 10 years after the war.
By the late 1960s some 400 listed buildings were being lost each year. Even in Architectural Heritage Year 1975, 182 listed buildings were demolished in England and Wales. This is not a story of national pride.
The heroes here are a small band of obsessives, who were determined to protect the best of our landscape, buildings and artefacts from the ravages of time and the pressures of change.
They are mostly familiar names - Stukeley, Soane, Ruskin, Hill, Hunter, Rawnsley, Betjeman - but behind them stand a host of others, equally dedicated to the cause. Their success is perhaps best reflected in the growth of public interest in their cause.
The Heritage Obsession is no page turner. It has the flavour of a university thesis turned into a book. Nevertheless, it's a useful handbook, serving as a helpful introduction to England's changing relationship to its heritage.
Timothy Mason is a museum consultant
From this damp Wiltshire hill, the ill-placed car park and visitor facilities looked more like a tinkers' camp pressing up against the circle of stones; meanwhile cars sped along a busy road within yards of what English Heritage rightly describes as one of the wonders of the world.
The recent consultation document on the future of Stonehenge stated: "The current visitor facilities and parking along with the A344 road adjacent to Stonehenge represent a significant adverse impact on the Outstanding Universal Value of the World Heritage Site." It is an understatement. Stonehenge is a national disgrace.
There is much talk now of "legacy". In current Olympian terms, it slips in and out of focus, so that one moment it's about sport and the next takes the form of urban regeneration. Somehow it seems legacy will change slowly into heritage for which as a nation we still struggle to find adequate support.
The state of Stonehenge is a reminder that the struggle is not yet over. Ben Cowell's The Heritage Obsession traces the history of this long-running concern to safeguard England's threatened heritage. It looks at our own legacies from other generations, following a history of continual debate and placing it in its historical context.
He begins quite properly with a search for a definition of the word "heritage", a word as slippery as "legacy". Turning inevitably to the Oxford English Dictionary, he finds the sense of inheritance. He doesn't however, hold on to this for long, settling instead for his own, "an ongoing concern for the tangible and intangible remains of the past, for the benefit of present and future generations".
It's a curious interpretation, placing the emphasis on the act of caring rather the focus of the care, and one that is almost impossible to sustain. In the very next sentence, Cowell talks of heritage as "historic buildings, landscapes, archaeological collections, memories, traditions", careful to include the current concern for the intangible, but careless perhaps to exclude the museum object, particularly when the book contains a slightly diversionary section on Victorian museums.
The history that Cowell records is not one of national glory and achievement, but rather the struggle of passionate and determined individuals first to take action for themselves and later to mobilise reluctant governments. Research as recently as 1905 showed Britain to be behind nearly all other European countries in its legal protection of heritage.
The 1882 Act to protect national monuments had taken nine years to become law. By 1895, despite his best efforts as the first inspector of ancient monuments, the redoubtable General Pitt Rivers had reported that "Neither Gvt. nor parliament care a button for ancient monuments".
Fifty years later, despite the protection afforded by listing introduced in legislation in 1944 and 1947, an estimated 282 country houses were pulled down in the 10 years after the war.
By the late 1960s some 400 listed buildings were being lost each year. Even in Architectural Heritage Year 1975, 182 listed buildings were demolished in England and Wales. This is not a story of national pride.
The heroes here are a small band of obsessives, who were determined to protect the best of our landscape, buildings and artefacts from the ravages of time and the pressures of change.
They are mostly familiar names - Stukeley, Soane, Ruskin, Hill, Hunter, Rawnsley, Betjeman - but behind them stand a host of others, equally dedicated to the cause. Their success is perhaps best reflected in the growth of public interest in their cause.
The Heritage Obsession is no page turner. It has the flavour of a university thesis turned into a book. Nevertheless, it's a useful handbook, serving as a helpful introduction to England's changing relationship to its heritage.
Timothy Mason is a museum consultant
By Ben Cowell
The History Press, £16.99
ISBN 978 0 7524 4096 5
The History Press, £16.99
ISBN 978 0 7524 4096 5
