Well into the 20th century, it was common for the local squire to provide large-scale employment, housing, and patronage to the village school, parish church, and a cottage hospital.
There was no reason for public interest or concern; the same magazine had frequently published in-depth articles on new country houses being built, designed by fashionable architects such as Lutyens.
Alfred Waterhouse's Gothic Eaton Hall, owned by Britain's wealthiest peer, was razed to the ground in 1963, and replaced by a smaller modern building.
The Duke of Devonshire saved Hardwick Hall by surrendering it to H.M. Treasury in lieu of death duties, which were charged at up to 80% of the total value of an estate,[15] but this solution was rarely acceptable to the government.
Today, demolition has ceased to be a realistic, or legal, option for listed buildings, and an historic house (particularly one with its contents intact) has become recognized as worthy of retention and preservation.
The severely impoverished Duke of Marlborough saved Blenheim Palace by marrying an heiress, tempted from the USA by the lure of an old title in return for vast riches.
[26] Likewise the Duke of Bedford kept Woburn Abbey, considerably reduced in size, after World War II, while selling other family estates and houses.
There are several reasons which had brought about this situation – most significantly in the early 20th century there was no firmly upheld legislation to protect what is now considered to be the nation's heritage.
In the immediate aftermath of World War II, to the British public still suffering from the deprivations of food rationing and restriction on building work the destruction of these great redundant houses was of little interest.
Before the late 1950s and the advent of the stately home business, very few working-class people had seen the upstairs of these great houses; those who had were there only to clean and serve, with an obligation to keep their eyes down, rather than uplift them and be educated.
During the next two decades, restrictions were applied to building works as Britain was rebuilt, priority being given to replacing what had been lost during the war rather than the oversized home of an elite family.
These factors, coupled with a decrease in people available or willing to work as servants, left the owners of country houses facing major problems of how to manage their estates.
Political elections held in public before 1872 gave suffrage to only a limited section of the community, many of whom were the landowner's friends, tradesmen with whom he dealt, senior employees or tenants.
The other factor was the reorganization of constituency boundaries, and a candidate who for years had been returned unopposed suddenly found part of his electorate was from an area outside of his influence.
The final blow, the Parliament Act 1911, proved to be the beginning of the end for the country house lifestyle which had been enjoyed in a similar way for generations of the upper classes.
Two years later, Lloyd George in his People's Budget of 1909 announced plans for a supertax for the rich, but the bill introducing the tax was defeated in the House of Lords.
Death duties, however, slowly increased and became a serious problem for the country estate throughout the first half of the 20th century, reaching a zenith when assisting in the funding of World War II.
The main problem with the Acts was that, out of all Britain's great buildings, they only found 26 monuments in England, 22 in Scotland, eighteen in Ireland and three in Wales worthy of preservation; all of which were prehistoric.
This view was exemplified in 1911 when the immensely wealthy Duke of Sutherland acting on a whim wished to dispose of Trentham Hall, a vast Italianate palace in Staffordshire.
[26] The small, but vocal, public resistance to this plan caused the Duke of Rutland to write an irate letter to The Times accusing the objectors of "impudence" and going on to say "....fancy my not being allowed to make a necessary alteration to Haddon without first obtaining the leave of some inspector".
While the catalogue of buildings worthy of preservation was to expand, it remained restrictive, and failed to prevent many of the early demolitions, including, in 1925, the export to the USA of the near ruinous Agecroft Hall.
[45] The Town and Country Planning Act 1944, with the end of World War II in sight, was chiefly concerned with the redevelopment of bomb sites, but contained one crucial clause which concerned historic buildings: it charged local authorities to draw up a list of all buildings of architectural importance in their area, and, most significantly, for the first time the catalogue was to include inhabited private residences.
The 1947 Act went further than its predecessors in dealing with historic buildings, as it required owners of property to notify their local authority of intended alterations, and more significantly, demolitions.
The response to this highly publicised exhibition was very positive; for the first time the public, rather than a few intellectual bodies, became aware that country houses were an important part of the national heritage and worthy of preservation.
In the early 19th century, Jane Austen describes such a trip in Pride and Prejudice, where Elizabeth Bennet and her aunt and uncle are shown around Mr Darcy's Pemberley by the housekeeper.
Later in the century, on days when Belvoir Castle was open to the public, the 7th Duke of Rutland was reported by his granddaughter, the socialite Lady Diana, to assume a "look of pleasure and welcome.
Brideshead today would be open to trippers, its treasures rearranged by expert hands and the fabric better maintained than it was by Lord Marchmain.This can be exemplified by the business ventures executed by the Marquess of Bath at Longleat House.
Reacquiring occupation of this enormous 16th-century mansion, in a state of poor repair, following requisition during World War II, the marquess was faced with death duties of £700,000.
Writing in 1992 in The Daily Telegraph, 47 years after his father wrote his melancholy novel prophesying the decline of country house life, Auberon Waugh felt confident enough of the survival of the country house as a domestic residence to declare: "I would be surprised if there is any greater happiness than that provided by a game of croquet played on an English lawn through a summer's afternoon, after a good luncheon and with the prospect of a good dinner ahead.
Then, following a brief period while its owners tried to save it as a stately home open to the public, it had been sold and purchased for use as a private residence once again, albeit also doubling as a wedding venue and sometimes a film set; both common and lucrative sources of country house income in the 21st century.