Sprake’s Progress

Drive through the patchwork of old industrial buildings in the Historic Dockyard Chatham and you arrive at a row of large Georgian terraces built for the senior members of the naval staff. This one, Captain’s House, is a Regency bookend. Think the Battle of Trafalgar and Captain Bush – that era. The interior is not as you might predict. Where you might expect traditional period furnishings, instead you are met by a quirky conglomeration of antiques and interior fun put together by a charismatic dealer – one with the sharp eye of a picky butterfly and an instinct for shape and colour.

The place is an assemblage of interesting stuff from all centuries and continents. Twentieth-century art furniture rubs shoulders with old masters and oversized palazzo furnishings. An early Corpus Christi gazes soulfully across the stairwell and an Indian elephant painting rests on a bathroom fireplace between a pair of 19th-century French château doors that discreetly hide a shower and loo.

The mastermind behind this visual feast is Stephen Sprake, who lives in Captain’s House with his husband, Paul Chaplin and their lurcher, Bazzle. Stephen’s immersion in the world of interior design began in childhood. ‘This was the 1970s and my parents and their friends disrupted the postwar hangover of drabness with a mash-up of their art, inherited pieces and contemporary furniture. That aesthetic stuck with me: it was exciting and experimental.’

He bought the property just as Covid hit. At first sight the bones were there, but it had been patched up by previous owners. Over the centuries the house had undergone many changes to accommodate the growing needs of the various families who lived there.

New owners take on the responsibility for caring for a historic property: they must respect the past when attending to the fabric of a building. ‘My job was to reveal the original grandeur of the house, which meant the removal of all the modern store-bought features,’ Stephen says. But it was under the 7,000 square feet of fitted carpets that the real problems lay.

Half of the original boards (of a rare size) had disappeared; equivalents would have to be sourced, as well as 60 replacement radiators. All the plastic plumbing was replaced with copper. Because of the Scheduled Ancient Monument status of the house, no blow torches were allowed, so every pipe was crimped. ‘The ancient boiler was replaced – but it stretched the limits of the manufacturers, as the only viable route was through a 30-metre chimney flue.’

Cornices were mended in their original style. Modern Phillips screws were all replaced with old slotted screws sourced from flea markets. All this detail was important. ‘We had a totally unrealistic budget which meant every evening was spent on my laptop sourcing affordable reclaimed materials,’ Stephen explains. ‘Paul was sent all over the south of England with his car groaning under the weight of my latest internet haul. I became an expert in Regency and Victorian door furniture and can spot a beehive escutcheon in a car boot box without blinking.’

‘An anthropomorphic relationship develops with your new brick-and-mortar friend,’ Stephen adds. ‘You only want the best for its welfare!’ He had to work patiently with Historic England, for instance, to get permission to take the modern stud walls and steel beams down, so that he might recreate the two grand rooms originally on each floor of the riverside elevation. ‘I remember thinking the house must be breathing a sigh of relief when we exposed its original design,’ he says.

There were, however, some surprises. ‘I lured my multi-disciplined house painter, Pawel, from London and he lived on site for a couple of years. He discovered a mummified cat nailed under the threshold of an attic door. I didn’t want to spook him but this was an ancient practice to ward off evil spirits, or to bring good luck to a newly built house.’

Finding local artisans during the pandemic was a major challenge. ‘The whole mood lifted when we met Dan Morrison. Years of working for the National Trust and Royal Palaces prepared him for the task ahead. He has an encyclopaedic knowledge of historic buildings – and dealing with old queens.’ Another stalwart was the designer Mark Betty, who acted as a sounding board and ‘chief tut-tutter if I made an aesthetic faux pas’, as Stephen puts it. ‘Our joint interest is in colour. With the collaboration of the paint company Mylands, we created some wonderful fusions that elevated the whole project.’

When furnishing began, the generous size of the rooms absorbed things greedily. But, like many antique dealers, Stephen had stored furniture and pictures for many years, waiting for the right house. It paid off. ‘Of course, most people want more structured interiors,’ the owner remarks, ‘but there’s also a place for a bit of anarchy.’ That is just what’s so enjoyable about Captain’s House.

For more about Stephen Sprake’s antiques, visit sanspretention.london. Captain’s House was painted in partnership with Mylands. For more information about Mylands’ Colours of London Collection, visit mylands.com

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