The Legacy of the Mouseman

An Oak cross, and other important items.

According to James Herriot’s Yorkshire, Robert Thompson was working as a wheelwright when Father Nevill commissioned him to make a cross, along with a few other items.  The Priest was so taken by what the man delivered that he advised him to specialize in Oak furniture.  While the famous woodworker’s history may be more involved that Herriot suggests, this commission proved influential for young Robert, and it appears that he held great store by Father Nevill’s opinion.

In order to distinguish his work, he drew inspiration from the saying, “Poor as a church mouse.”  In time, most of what he made would not leave his shop until his unique trademark, a mouse, was carved somewhere in the finished product.  While the Mouseman himself has passed away, his descendants carry on this tradition.  No, you cannot buy just a carving of a mouse, but one can find a mouse on most of the larger items in the showroom.  Nor are all mice the same.  According to www.mousemanfurniture.com each item is personally overseen from beginning to end by one craftsman, who carves his own unique style of mouse into everything he makes.

An older mouse found in St. Mary's Church in Thirsk.

We spotted our first mouse in St. Mary’s Church in Thirsk, but they positively ran riot in Ampleforth Abbey, a nearby Benedictine monastery.  There's good reason for this.  While Herriot records Father Nevill as the local Parish Priest (presumably of Kilburn), Wikipedia and other sources name him as the Headmaster of the abbey’s college.  Might he have served in both capacities?  In any case, it seems that Robert Thompson never forgot the importance of the commission that got him started as the famous woodworker of Kilburn.  His little mouse has scurried into homes all over the world, and into churches all over Yorkshire.  Isn’t it ironic that the man chose one of the most diminutive animals for his trademark?  I wonder what it says about how Robert Thompson viewed himself, as well as how we ought best to see ourselves.

A Benedictine mouse in the visitor center
of Ampleforth Abbey.

I’m not sure how English churches can afford the firm’s prices, but the workshop’s furniture is certainly built to last.  For congregations that can trace their church's existence back not just hundreds of years, but in some cases over a thousand, perhaps they take the long view when investing in pews and other furnishings.  Considering the firm's heritage, maybe Robert Thompson’s Craftsmen Ltd offers a clerical or church discount.  I wonder how they would respond to a commission from Father Dave, the Rector (and blogging Bishop) of St. Dragon’s Parish in San Diego?

Just mousing around,

Dragon Dave

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On the James Herriot Furniture Trail

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Related Internet Links

www.mousemanfurniture.com

Robert Thompson furniture in churches and cathedrals

On the James Herriot Furniture Trail

"Uh, James, could you pass the Sports section?"

Until a few years ago, when circumstances forced me to give it up, I was an avid woodworker.  I even worked on my own chair, sweating blood (and yes, occasionally shedding it) over mortise-and-tenon joints, and cutting the precise widths and lengths necessary for each individual piece of the structure.  I’ve yet to finish that chair, but the process of building it gave me a real appreciation for craftsmen who design and make their own furniture. 

While the characters and stories in the TV show “All Creatures Great and Small” prompted me to buy the series on DVD, one thing that caught my eye during repeat viewings was the sideboard in the great room.  I’m not well versed in styles and periods, but the lines of that particular piece of furniture captivated me.  You never get a really good view of it--the camera’s focus is quite rightly on the actors, and the dining table and chairs huddle nearby—yet to me it possesses a beauty and character I’ve never seen before.

Two nice sideboards, but not what I'm after.

In touring The World of James Herriot, one of the first rooms you see is the great room where Siegfried, Tristan, James, Helen, and later, the Herriot children, would have eaten meals, met with visitors, and relaxed.  Two sideboards hug one wall of the room.  While they possess their own individual character and beauty, neither was the one seen in the show.  Perhaps these ones were the real ones James and the others used, or they may be typical period furniture that the museum acquired.  At any rate, they weren’t the piece that I wanted to see.

Could this be the one?

In the studio mockup, I entered the dining room set with high expectations.  Yet the sideboard there seemed wrong: the wood too dark, and the lines different.  In looking at the photograph now, I wonder: might this be the piece used in the TV show?  Somehow, in the picture, it reminds me of the image in my mind that I had sought.  Perhaps it was.  If there was one truth that the studio area reinforced, it is how different people and things look on film.  (If you don’t believe me, have a photo taken of yourself, then compare it to what you see in the mirror).  At any rate, no card or sign listed details about the sideboard as to maker, style, or the type of wood used.  One thing’s for sure: it certainly didn’t bear the signature style of Robert Thompson, the famous Mouseman of Kilburn.  But more on that in tomorrow’s post.

If anyone recognizes the style of the studio sideboard, please let me know.  In lieu of answers, the search continues.

Captivated by beautiful furniture,

Dragon Dave

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