206. Canons Ashby – 11/3/2024

As so often, my new year of visits has begun during the week of the Cheltenham horse racing festival. I used a free day before the racing action kicks off to take an hour’s drive from the Cotswolds across to Northamptonshire and Canons Ashby. Perhaps not the most imposing property in the Trust’s portfolio, this is more of a family home rather than a bold status symbol, but it has a wealth of history and was well worth the efforts needed to save it for future generations of visitors.

Very unusually in NT history, the Trust actually targeted the property and approached the owners themselves when they heard it might be turned into a hotel. The spearhead of this preservation project in 1980 was Gervase Jackson-Stops, who was an advisor to the National Trust and had grown up near Canons Ashby. He brought the Trust together with other stakeholders (including the Landmark Trust, which still offers a holiday apartment in the tower) to save the property and he is commemorated in the Priory Church alongside the house. With absent owners (then living in Africa), the house had fallen into decay, so the Trust immediately faced many challenges, including wet and dry rot, a garden jungle, a leaking roof, and a south front (see main picture above) that was bowing outwards under the weight of the ornate plaster ceiling in the Drawing Room.

In addition, the Trust also brought back many of the house’s older features that had been painted or panelled over by later generations of the resident Dryden family. This included the dramatic fireplace in the Drawing Room, the grisaille wall paintings in the Spenser Room, and the wooden panels in the Winter Parlour (later the Servant’s Hall). It always seems miraculous how conservators can peel away a top layer of covering paint without also damaging what lies beneath, but the miracle workers were at it again.

Turning to the history of the house, it has certainly had an interesting past despite being owned by the same family for over 400 years. The name Canons Ashby is derived from the old term for farmstead (‘ashby’) and the religious folk who once occupied a large priory on the site. The priory was founded in the 12^th century and the canons (different from monks in that they pray for others rather than for their own salvation) lived a happy and secure life in this rural idyll until Henry VIII came along and decided their time was up. To be fair to old King Henry, it sounds as if the canons had become rather dissolute in their ways, so the Dissolution of their priory was perhaps justified. Less justified perhaps is what happened to the vast priory church, which was largely destroyed, leaving a building that is now only a quarter or a fifth of its original size. The church tower can still be seen from a long way off and the building feels rather large to serve such a small community, but it would have been positively cathedral-like in its pomp. Visitors can pop across the road to look around the church, which is full of memorials to centuries of dead Drydens as well as a model of the building as it once was. Today, it is surprisingly modest and plain inside, perhaps fitting for a place of worship for a Puritan family.

What remains of the Priory Church

Once the canons had been ‘dissolved’ in 1535, the property was bought from the Crown in 1537 and a year later purchased again by Sir John Cope. His daughter, Elizabeth, married a John Dryden and moved into the house, thus beginning the centuries-long tenure of Drydens. My companion commented on the familiarity of the name Dryden and I said it was most famous because of the poet, but “I am sure he was no relation”. Oops, silly me! There is a portrait of John Dryden, former Poet Laureate, in the Dining Room and we were told that his branch of the family might once have inherited the house had they not been staunch Catholics and persona non grata to the Northants Drydens. The volunteer also told me that Dryden was the only Poet Laureate to be sacked from the position, again due to his Catholic inclinations. He was complimentary about Dryden’s poems so now I have another reading mission on my already extensive ‘to do’ list (insert rolling eyes emoji here!)

But I digress into poetry… let’s get back to the relevant Drydens. They were rather fortunate in the destruction of the vast priory church as they used a great deal of the rubble to build their manor house, expanding a former farmhouse into a far more striking abode. Elizabeth and John built the tower and west wing of the house, later adding the Great Hall and Long Gallery above it (so far so Tudor). Other signs of the Tudor décor include the painted panels in the Winter Parlour, complete with their Puritanical Latin quotations above.

The Drawing Room fireplace

Their son Erasmus (the first baronet) inherited in 1584 and he added the bold fireplace in the Drawing Room, today much altered so it is a hotch-potch of designs and eras. This sums up the house as a whole, with a jigsaw-like quality to the architecture. Although this would not appeal to architectural purists, it somehow never feels completely wrong and there is something attractive about the house’s mongrel nature. As far as the aforementioned fireplace is concerned, it brings together old Tudor design with Elizabethan painted panels and Delft tiles, so although the casual viewer can probably see that it isn’t entirely ‘right’, the eye is still drawn to it as soon as you enter the room. It was once covered over with off-white paint and I was hoping there would be a picture of it in this state somewhere, just to see how different it was, but sadly that had to be left to my imagination.

The dramatic vaulted ceiling in the Drawing Room is another winner. Added in 1632 to mark the third marriage of Sir John Dryden, 2^nd Bt, it is a weighty feature and was largely responsible for the bowed south frontage after later structural changes reduced its stability. The fireplace itself also bears scars from the ceiling’s imposition on the room with cracks and misalignments in the mantel.

The next – and perhaps most drastically – influential Dryden was Edward, who inherited unexpectedly in 1708. The previous owner had died childless, and the house (but not the title) came down to Edward, who was a nephew of Poet Dryden. His Georgian sensibilities led to major alterations to Canons Ashby, with the South Front turned into the main focal point, and he created the series of terraced gardens, which draw the eye down from this frontage towards the lakes in the valley. Edward also moved fireplaces from the south front to opposite walls and added Georgian-style sash windows, markedly contributing to the weakness of the entire South Front and creating all the future structural problems. I got an idea from the volunteers that Edward was not the most popular of the house’s owners. He did contribute some valued interest in the house, however, including the tapestry-covered furniture with curved legs in the Tapestry Room, which was ground-breaking for its time.

[As a minor aside, the volunteer in the Tapestry Room seemed very familiar to me, so after a conversation about the room, I asked if he perhaps volunteered anywhere else. He asked me if I had been to Stowe House recently, which placed him immediately as the man who had guided our tour of the house in 2023. The NT can be a small world and it is always nice to get reacquainted with excellent guides. Sadly, I forgot to ask his name and I didn’t note it down at Stowe either, so he remains anonymous. Perhaps I’ll find him popping up somewhere else in future and can put this right!]

Further generations of Drydens (some of whom married into the family and changed their names to fit) made few significant changes to the house. Lack of funds was a contributing factor, but perhaps we should be thankful for this as Edward’s alterations would probably have been far more substantial had he been able to afford it.

The last resident worth mentioning is Henry the Antiquary, 7^th Bt, who inherited around the same time as Victoria came to the throne and whose reign at Canons Ashby broadly mirrored her own reign. He made copious notes and drawings about the house, while his daughter Alice chronicled life at Canons Ashby with her trusty camera, both of which actions have been a boon to the Trust’s proprietorship. Henry’s book room is an intellectual’s paradise, with his desk littered with instruments and drawing implements and the walls lined with books. It was also amusing to note that the cupboards below the bookshelves were used to house some of Henry’s gardening tools as he was a keen horticulturist.

Although Canons Ashby may not be the most striking property I have ever visited, it was a lovely place to spend a slightly gloomy morning in March. And it is clear that it has a certain ‘something’ about it. This was evident in the ample corps of volunteers who clearly love this place, and it meant that every room was accessible with no out-of-bounds closures. I was also a little surprised to find that the house was even open on a Monday in March, and when so many other houses are struggling to get room guides or staffing for longer opening periods, Canons Ashby appears to be doing much better, which is testament to its continuing staying power. Rising as it did from the rubble of a destroyed church, maybe the house is a little blessed?

Highlights: Drawing Room, Henry’s Book Room

Refreshments: Redbush tea and chocolate chip cookie; cheese and onion pasty

Purchase(s): Guidebook; ‘Apples Never Fall’ (Liane Moriarty), ‘The Last House on Needless Street (Catriona Ward), ‘Finders Keepers’ (Belinda Bauer), ‘The Paying Guests’ (Sarah Waters), all from the secondhand bookshop (and just when the to-be-read pile was coming down!)

Companion(s): Nigel

2023: In Summary

The past year was a modest one in terms of total numbers again, but I decided to head to Wales to visit old friends in May rather than put in a full week of Trusting, so I only had one dedicated holiday to make a bigger dent in the numbers. I still managed to tick off two more during that visit to friends, however, so I wasn’t completely slacking, and this has left me with just one Welsh property to go.

Northern Ireland is in the crosshairs for this year too, with transport and accommodation already booked for May. I am very grateful to my brother and his wife for agreeing to accompany me on that one as I didn’t really fancy all that travel alone. Hopefully, they can squeeze in some golf and other delights while I am buried in the province’s history. And my sister-in-law is looking forward to venturing across the Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge (crazy woman!)

Back to last year, though. I visited a total of 18 properties between April and October, covering nine ‘counties’, including 2 in Buckinghamshire, 1 in Carmarthenshire, 1 in Ceredigion, 1 in Greater London, 2 in Kent, 1 in Leicestershire, 6 in Derbyshire, 1 in Staffordshire, 2 in Gloucestershire and 1 in Somerset. I completed several counties, finishing off Kent, Derbyshire, Somerset and Leicestershire. The last wasn’t hard as there is only one NT property in the whole county, so it was done and dusted after my trip to Stoneywell.

It wasn’t all that easy to calculate the compass points this year as there were battles for those that reached the furthest. West was actually quite easy as Llanerchaeron in Ceredigion is almost on the west coast of Wales so that was a clear winner for that prize. The furthest east was Stoneacre in Kent, and that actually took two prizes as it was also the most southerly of my visits. Hardwick Hall was the furthest north this year, just beating Winster Market House.

The numbers have always altered slightly as I go along, with smaller properties coming and going from the list, but at the most recent count, I have completed 205 and have just 57 left to go (if I exclude some of the smaller extras that still might make it in). It is satisfying to be so close to the end, but some of the remainder are in hard-to-reach places, so I think it will be at least another three years before I can invite my many different companions to a celebratory party. I am sure it will be three years full of interest and enjoyment, however, so roll on 2024.

205. Prior Park Landscape Garden – 15/10/2023

This was my third ‘park’ in as many days but the three were all very different and I ended my weekend with the quickest – but perhaps most energetic – of the visits. Sadly, the glory days of Prior Park house are now long behind it, and it has been an educational establishment of some kind since the 1920s (currently a mixed boarding school), so this does not feature as part of a visit here. It is a beautiful building, however, and occupies pole position at the top of the hill, looking down on its landscaped grounds, so it is a striking addition to any photos you might want to take from the bottom of the slopes.

The sun was a problem for photography but you can just see Prior Park house at the top of the hill

Without access to the house, a visit to Prior Park Landscape Garden is very much a simple ‘walk in the park’, albeit one that delivers views to die for. The main focus of the views is the covered Palladian bridge, one of only four that still exist (including NT-owned bridges at Stowe and Stourhead, plus another at Wilton House near Salisbury). The lakes and dams surrounding the bridge have recently undergone major construction works so I have delayed my visit to Prior Park a couple of times, making sure that the orange barriers and tapes were long gone and no longer interrupting the view. I am sure you’ll agree from my pics that it was worth the wait.

I do have one rather large gripe about Prior Park, which is its accessibility. It does not have a public car park and advises visitors to get a bus out of Bath city centre – either the local bus or the hop-on-hop-off tour bus. This would be perfectly convenient if your visit began in Bath city centre. However, if – like me – you try to visit it from outside Bath, you come a cropper straight away as you will have to catch a Park + Ride bus into the centre and then another bus out again. The Odd Down P+R is not all that far from Prior Park but the buses take an alternative route down into the city. I wonder if the Trust has tried to negotiate something with the council so that the P+R bus goes past Prior Park and can set down anyone wanting to visit? It would certainly make visiting a lot easier!

My own situation was further complicated by the fact that it was the Bath Half Marathon on Sunday so most of the city was closed to traffic and the local buses weren’t running past Prior Park anyway. This left us in a tricky position, and we ended up parking at Odd Down and ordering an Uber to the gardens and back. This was still quicker than catching two buses, especially on a Sunday when fewer services run. While waiting for our return Uber, no fewer than four cars arrived at Prior Park looking for the car park and having to be told by the volunteers that they would have to drive up the hill and look for street parking wherever they could find it along Claverton Down Road (which was already logjammed due to the marathon road closures!). So, getting to one’s walk in the park is certainly no ‘walk in the park’!

Once we finally got to Prior Park and embarked on our walk, I found myself in some difficulty as to what to say about the visit. On one hand, the effort required to get there rather demands more than what the garden offers to its visitors, which is simply a walk from the top of the hill, down to the Palladian Bridge and bottom lakes and then back up the other side (or in fact out at the bottom gate to return to Bath city if this is where you started). On the other hand, however, I wouldn’t have missed that view for the world as it is truly stunning, with the backdrop of Bath city beyond the garden’s key features. We had a lovely sunny day so the city was positively glowing below us. We took advantage of a bench just in front of the college’s fence and I have to say I have rarely drunk a cup of tea with such a beautiful scene laid out in front of me.

The house at Prior Park was owned by Ralph Allen (1693-1764) who should perhaps be known as Mr Bath thanks to the contribution of his stone quarries to the construction of the honey-coloured buildings of the city. Born in Cornwall, he came to Bath as a young man and never left, later making his first fortune as the town’s postmaster and his development of national postal routes, before cashing in on the quarrying business too. Along with John Wood the Elder and John Wood the Younger – the architects who designed the Royal Crescent, the Circle and many of Bath’s other beautiful terraces – he was instrumental in creating what became the most popular spa town and tourist destination of the Georgian era.

Allen began building the house at Prior Park in the 1730s although it was not finished until 1754. The landscape garden was created in several phases from 1734 to around 1764. There is a suggestion that Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown had some input into the grounds, being paid £60 in 1764 to provide ‘plans’, but no one knows what these plans were and whether they were followed. There used to be many more features in the gardens, including a grotto, a Gothic temple, a pineapple house and a thatched cottage. According to an information board near the icehouse, the thatched cottage could be rebuilt at some point. For now, though, the only solid feature that remains in the landscape is the Palladian bridge.

The Trust came into possession of the garden’s 11 hectares in 1993, by which time they had deteriorated due to lack of attention. The landscape was reopened to the public in 1996 and the Trust continues to make improvements, having previously restored the bridge as well as embarking on the more recent renovations of the historic dams.

Despite the transport headaches, I can strongly recommend Prior Park to anyone who appreciates a stunning view and a picturesque stroll in the country, as long as they don’t mind a gradient. And I will sign off with the hope that the young boarders at Prior Park College appreciate what they have on their doorstep and occasionally look up from their phones to take in the scenery around them. They don’t know how lucky they are.

Highlights: The Palladian Bridge; a view and a half

Refreshments: Redbush tea

Purchase(s): Bath Skyline guidebook (it gives detail on Bath and its surroundings – including a page on Prior Park – and includes two guided walks, one of the city itself and another 6-mile route around the skyline)

Companion(s): Sarah

204. Newark Park – 14/10/2023

For some reason, Newark Park had never been on my radar as an important visit and often got pushed aside in my planning in favour of more high-profile properties. In fact, even for this long weekend, I had scheduled Dyrham Park and Prior Park Landscape Gardens for two of the days and it was only at the last minute that I realised Newark Park was within easy striking distance and could make up a third strand in my ‘parky’ tour of South Gloucestershire and North Somerset.

Newark served as an important lesson in not dismissing properties out of hand, however, as this was a fascinating location with an interesting history, spectacular views and excellent staff and volunteers. From the moment we arrived at visitor reception, we were welcomed with open arms (not literally, that would be a bit weird!) and provided with all the information we needed to make the most of our day, while every other person we met after that was equally as friendly and helpful.

The property is not overflowing with valuable artefacts, so a full glossy guidebook is perhaps unnecessary, but Newark put some of the bigger properties to shame as it supplies a cheaper ‘short guide’ that cost me just £2 and gave me all the facts I needed to supplement everything else that I learned while on site (which was quite a lot to be going on with anyway). Perhaps a shorter leaflet of this kind would serve at other locations while full guidebooks are being updated and reprinted?

One of the sculptures on show

We had been given some inside info by a Newark volunteer we met at Dyrham, so as soon as we arrived, we signed up for a basement tour, places for which were running out fast. With time to spare before our slot, we took a stroll around the gardens, which include a formal walled garden alongside the house, then pleasure grounds that trail down the steep hillside, passing a folly in the woods, to reach the lake and its neighbouring summer house. Works are ongoing to rebuild a crinkle-crankle wall at the foot of the slopes, while there is a good exhibition of sculptures nearer the house.

Newark Park house is actually poised on the edge of an apparent precipice, so taking a photo of the south front of the building requires a serious uphill angle (see above)… or a trip to the opposite side of the valley with a monumentally powerful zoom lens! I am not complaining, though, as the views from the front terrace, and in fact from the house’s south windows, are spectacular and few would argue that this was not an excellent spot to build one’s home.

Not a bad view

It was not originally constructed as a home, however, as Sir Nicholas Poyntz of nearby Acton Court first built the property as a hunting lodge. With four storeys (a basement and three upper floors) and a flat roof, it was the perfect vantage point from which to watch the chase across the hills and valley floor. Later commentators suggested that it was also a place for Sir Nicholas to ‘keep his whores’ as his marriage was not a happy one. Either way, Newark (Sir Nicholas’ ‘new worke’) had a relatively inauspicious start in life.

One of Newark’s excellent visitor experiences is the guided talk based around a model of the building. The volunteer pulls apart the ‘jigsaw’ of the house and then discusses each part of its gradual expansion across the centuries. The hunting lodge was first built in 1550, with some expansion in the 17^th century and much larger additions and modernisations in the 1790s when it was owned by the Clutterbuck family. They added Georgian aspects as well as Gothic elements such as the south-side portico and the battlements on the roof, and created the symmetry of the building’s core, with some false windows added to fit the design. The property was rented out from 1867, and in the 1890s, the then tenant Annie King added the servants’ wing to the north front. Newark in its current format was complete.

This was by far the end of the tale, however. The last Clutterbuck owner left the house to the National Trust in 1949 in honour of her son who was killed in the First World War (his plane was shot down by the Red Baron), and it is apparently still a registered War Memorial. After this, the Trust didn’t know what to do with Newark and leased it to a nursing home in the 1950s and 60s. This was fairly disastrous and both house and garden had deteriorated considerably by the time its white knight came along.

The Tudor wing

This white knight was Robert ‘Bob’ Parsons, a keen architect and connoisseur of antiques, who tenanted the property from 1970 until his death in 2000, paying only a token rent of £1 a year with the proviso that he covered the cost of all repairs and renovations he wanted to make. Parsons was raised in Texas and had been stationed in East Anglia in WWII where he developed a love of Britain and its architecture. He studied at Harvard on his return to the US but then relocated to England in 1950. When Newark Park was seeking a repairing tenant, Bob was an ideal candidate. Today, the house is presented very much as it would have been when Bob was living there and I fell in love with several of the rooms, most notably the Dining Room with its striking landscape paintings and the bold Thai screen on one wall. My taste in art appears to match Bob’s quite closely in fact and I saw very few paintings that I would not have been happy to have on my own walls.

Bob – later assisted by his partner Michael who joined him at Newark in the 1980s – kept many of the features important to each period of the house’s history, so it feels very much like a jigsaw in its interiors as well as its structure. The many different pieces (or rooms) all interlock neatly, however, to make a house that is full of interest and also feels like a comfortable home. The Tudor Bedroom retains its original 16^th century stone fireplace and garderobe drop toilet, while some of the mullioned windows on the back of Poyntz’s hunting lodge can still be seen inside the house where later additions brought them into the interior. Meanwhile, the Georgian Neo-Classical entrance hall sports curved doors, Doric columns and a frieze of swags and ox skulls. The Clutterbucks’ time at Newark is also marked by the family’s window on the first-floor landing with its 18^th century painted glass.

The basement of the house is only accessible on a guided tour, but this is recommended as it further emphasises the jigsaw build, with both Tudor and Georgian kitchens on show. It is a fairly atmospheric space, and the short tour includes some other little gems about the property’s life across the ages, from basic Tudor living through to the modern filming of Tess of the D’Urbervilles for television.

Tudor ‘Spike’

The peacocks wandering the grounds were another welcome addition by Bob Parsons so keep an eye out for them. Hopefully, the visitor reception staff managed to encourage the nomadic peahen and chicks out of the car park and back into the safety of the garden. I am not sure what the mother hen was thinking. Perhaps the instruction being imparted to the youngsters was ‘never come here again’ and ‘do NOT play in traffic’.

Before you leave, make sure you take a look up at the roof so you don’t miss ‘Spike’, the golden dragon weathervane, who is a survivor from the original Tudor lodge. Just think of all the things he must have seen from his perch over the past 470 years. If only he could talk!

Highlights: A jigsaw house; comfortable atmosphere; views; peacocks!

Refreshments: Hot chocolate with cream and a slice of Victoria sponge cake

Purchase(s): Short guide

Companion(s): Sarah

203. Dyrham Park – 13/10/2023

This may have been my first visit on Friday the Thirteenth, so there was always the possibility of a run of bad luck. When there were no guidebooks available at visitor reception, I feared the run was starting, but the bad luck only lasted as far as the shop where the lovely Tony fished an old guidebook out of a cupboard for me. It is a little out of date, but I could easily see where things differed from my own viewing of the property, and it had all the history I usually need to supplement my day out. I am still slightly amazed that the Trust don’t sell the old stock – even at a reduced rate with a warning for purchasers – until they run out. Or until the new batch arrives. Thankfully, though, we came across a man of solid good sense who was happy to help me out.

I would add here, however, that even without a guidebook, the Trust takes education of its visitors very seriously at Dyrham. There is an exhibition near the main entrance that includes two videos and a roomful of display cabinets and information boards, so you enter the house with an already excellent knowledge about the house’s builder and his position in 17^th century society. There is then a further video inside the house itself, so there is certainly no excuse for visitors to be wandering the halls in confusion. When I compare this to my recent experience at Sudbury Hall, it felt like I had stepped from the dark depths of ignorance to an age of enlightenment. Thank you, Dyrham.

Before any of this education began, however, we took in the outdoor sights of the park (making the most of the finer weather). There is a long walk from the car park at Dyrham down to the house, but it is a pleasant route so those who are not fond of exercise may want to walk down and take the mobility bus back on the upward return leg. We did it this way, but only because the rain had set in by the time we were leaving (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it!). A walk to the house would once have given you a good opportunity to spot the deer in the park (the name ‘Dyrham’ itself means ‘an enclosed valley frequented by deer’), but tragically the herd has had to be culled due to the rampant spread of TB. According to the information board at the car park, the Trust plan to eradicate the virus and reintroduce the deer at a later date.

After our long chat with Tony and a house volunteer in the shop, we wandered through to the gardens, which feature such varied sights as a cascade, pond, lake, formal floral terraces and orchards. The parterre in front of the house entrance is still under construction but will be a fantastic addition for future visitors. There is now a good balance at Dyrham, with some of the original 17^th/18^th century garden being restored to complement the looser landscaping introduced around 1800 during the height of the Capability Brown fashion. There is a plan from 1710 that shows the original gardens so the Trust has a lot to work with in restoring some of this design, which was largely the work of George London, the then royal gardener. The western side of the grounds now closely resembles this layout, while the more relaxed landscape dominates the eastern approach from the car park.

The mention of the royal gardener above leads me neatly on to William Blathwayt, to whom we owe the delights of Dyrham today, as he mixed with royalty throughout his career. Dyrham had been owned by the Wynter family since the 1570s and when William Blathwayt married Mary Wynter in 1686, he inherited an estate around a Tudor house, which he felt would either need to be rebuilt or repaired at great expense. He opted for the former.

It didn’t happen overnight, however, and Blathwayt had to work his way up to the kind of economic heights that allowed his vision to come to fruition. Before his marriage, Blathwayt was already a successful servant to the Crown, and by 1683 he had worked his way up to be Secretary at War for Charles II and later for James II. He loyally stood by King James when he was deposed by the protestant William of Orange and his queen, Mary II. Not surprisingly, Blathwayt immediately lost his job when the new monarchy took over, but it was only a few months before William of Orange was recalling him to service, quickly having recognized his usefulness. Not only was Blathwayt a savvy political operator, but he was fluent in Dutch, having served as private secretary to the Dutch ambassador at The Hague in his younger days. This linguistic talent stood him in good stead with a new Dutch king on the throne.

Success led to his lucrative marriage and when he was promoted to Secretary of State in 1692, the building of his new house began. Sadly, his new wife did not live to see the project come together as she had died the year before. William pushed on, prudently at first, but his ideas gradually expanded with the size of his income. The west range was built first, but when he was appointed to the Board of Trade in 1698, the east range and state apartments came into being. By this time, he had employed the king’s own architect William Talman to work on the house. The Orangery was added in 1701, very much in honour of William of Orange, and in 1705 the stone eagle was finally lifted to the roof to mark the building’s completion.

Although not always present – he was a busy man after all – William directed the project from wherever he was around the world and insisted his manager left big margins in his letters so the house’s owner could add his comments and orders. A very early version of Microsoft Word’s comments system!

William retired to Dyrham later in life when he lost his lucrative jobs: William III had died in 1702 and it seems Blathwayt was less of a favourite with Queen Anne. His descendants made few major changes to the property so much of it survives as it was in its early days. Colonel George Blathwayt inherited in 1844 and, although he had lived mainly in Ireland and had rarely visited Dyrham, he recognized the threat to the property after many years of neglect and set about restoring it. He virtually beggared himself with loans in order to save Dyrham so we should be very grateful to him. Further changes were made by Anne, Lady Islington, who tenanted the house in the 1930s and 40s, so she has also left her footprint on the interiors, but this is still very much William Blathwayt’s house.

This is most notable in the Dutch influences that can be seen in every corner, from the large collection of Delft pottery, the Dutch paintings (including the excellent trompe l’oeil painting of a corridor just off the Walnut staircase hall – you have to push a button to light it up) and the Dutch leather wall hangings. Sadly, these are kept in the dark for protection and are very difficult to see, as are the tapestries in other rooms. It was interesting to see a William & Mary house, however, as I am not sure I have visited many that originate around this time. The overall décor was not perhaps my favourite, but I liked the Delft dotted around the house, and in the Dairy where the traditional blue and white tiles line the walls. I was in danger of losing my new friend, Tony, when we saw him again on the way out and I had to admit that I prefer my houses a little more ‘bling’, but I think he forgave me as I reassured him that I had still very much enjoyed my visit.

Another interesting aspect of Dyrham that is worth a mention is its approach to the somewhat troublesome past of its builder. Although William Blathwayt was perhaps not heavily involved in the slave trade, he almost certainly added to his coffers on the back of it. The Trust does not shy away from this and there is some detail about it in the exhibition. Meanwhile, inside the house, there are two candle stands supported by figures of kneeling slaves, with warnings given to visitors before they enter the room. This seems the best approach to me: the stands are distasteful but are still part of the house’s history. No amount of brushing under the carpet (or hiding in store cupboards) will change history and it serves no one. Instead, informing those who might be distressed, while explaining the history of the pieces to others, seems to me the best balance.

That feels like a slightly glum note on which to end this piece, so I will finish with recommendation of another excellent second-hand bookshop; perhaps not the biggest but with some good quality stock. I was determined not to buy, but two titles immediately caught my eye on the ‘highlights’ table and I was a goner. I did manage to avoid the ‘blind date with a book’ this time, reluctant to suffer another big ‘fail’ and pick something I already own!

Highlights: Delft pottery; van Hoogstraeten’s trompe l’oeil corridor painting; the story of a successful politician and courtier

Refreshments: Roasted red pepper soup and bloomer; Popchips; tea and a Twix

Purchase(s): ‘Demon Copperhead’ by Barbara Kingsolver and ‘Stoker’ by John Williams from the second-hand bookshop

Companion(s): Sarah

202. The Old Manor – 21/9/2023

Having removed Stainsby Mill from my list due to limited opening times, I did manage to add a replacement after squeezing in an extra property at the end of my week in Derbyshire. The Old Manor at Norbury is only open one day a week during the summer and next week will be its last day for this year, so I just got in under the wire.

It is a tiny property, with just a couple of old Medieval rooms and the undercroft available to view. However, there is a small knot/herb garden behind the manor, plus a marked path down to the River Dove, the route of which passes a pretty summer house where you can sit and listen to the rushing salmon trap (or fish weir) below. To continue the fish theme, I would like to add that even at this minnow of a property, I could purchase some written literature to read at home; it was only a photocopied leaflet, but it once again put bigger fish like Sudbury and Hardwick to shame with their complete lack of published material.

Even with only two rooms to view, there were volunteers in both, so I got an introductory overview downstairs, before heading up to the first floor Hall, which is a striking room with its sloping floors, tilted windows and unusual King post in the roof timbers. The fragment of the Old Manor that is on display to current visitors is now attached to a newer 17^th century red-brick building, but access to that is not possible as it is an NT holiday house.

The family history at the Old Manor belongs to the Fitzherberts, who have been associated with Norbury since 1125. There is written evidence of a building here in old church records of 1207 when a kind of ‘planning permission’ was required from Church and King to build in stone, but the construction of the Medieval manor house clearly evolved over time. It would have started with a single storey structure, with the undercrofts or cellars added at a later stage, and then finally the first floor Great Hall built on, which would then have become the heart of the family’s main living quarters.

The Fitzherberts were an interesting family, and the property information leaflet provides further detail on its more prominent members. Staunchly Catholic over centuries, they seem to have avoided anything worse than fines and occasional imprisonment for their faith, and in fact, many members of the family retained important positions. For example, Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, the 13^th Lord of Norbury, sat on the tribunals that tried Sir Thomas More and Anne Boleyn during the turbulent reign of Henry VIII. The Fitzherberts resided at Norbury until the mid-17^th century, with the newer manor built to house the tenant farmers who managed their lands from then on. It was the 28^th Lord of Norbury who finally sold the estate out of family ownership in 1881.

The buildings deteriorated after this time, but in 1963, Marcus Stapleton Martin, a descendant of the Fitzherberts, bought the property and restored the main manor house as well as the Great Hall in the Old Manor. He was also responsible for adding the knot garden at the rear, and he bequeathed the house to the Trust in 1987. His influence is memorialised in a sundial on the garden wall.

Visitors to the Old Manor should also pop into the neighbouring Church of St Mary and St Barlok as tombs and effigies of several significant Fitzherberts can be found inside as well as the bases of some old Saxon crosses, some floor brasses, and examples of rare 14^th century grisaille glass. The most exciting thing for me, however, was to discover that the paternal grandparents of George Eliot (born Mary Ann Evans) came from Norbury, and her father used to sing in the church choir. In fact, it is reported that ‘Hall Farm’ in Adam Bede is based on the brick-built Norbury Manor and that Adam himself may have been inspired by a local man. I do love a literary connection, so this was all music to my ears, and I made sure I paid my respects to Mary and George Evans whose final resting place is not far from the front door of the church by the side of the main path.

My whole visit took less than an hour but, if you are passing, and if you can get parked (spaces are very limited), it is worth a wander. Alternatively, if you have a spare couple of thousand pounds, you and nine friends could book a week at the holiday cottage and play at being lords and ladies of the manor yourselves.

Highlights: An ancient hall; the George Eliot connection

Refreshments: None

Purchase(s): Information leaflet

Companion(s): None

201. Hardwick Hall – 20/9/2023

Hardwick Hall with its striking E.S. rooftop initials

Sadly, I am going to start this entry with yet another guidebook gripe. It almost beggars belief that I can buy a guidebook for tiny properties such as Stoneywell or Stoneacre, but cannot source one for flagship stately homes like Dunham Massey or Hardwick Hall. It’s about time someone with influence in the NT realised that many visitors want to go deeper and learn more about what they are seeing. Maybe it’s time for an email to Director-General Hilary McGrady?

As a life member of the Trust, my way of contributing to the coffers is through eating and shopping but both are becoming increasingly difficult. In the restaurants, the food offering has become mundane and highly standardised across properties so varying my lunches is becoming harder, while the shops have also lost all originality – where they still exist at all. The guidebook is the last remaining point of individuality and is my number one target on arrival so please, please, please can someone ensure that old books are still available while new ones are being printed.

Hardwick Hall also fell down a little on introductory information at visitor reception. The lady I spoke to was very friendly, but she didn’t tell me that introductory talks were available every half an hour at the front of the house, so I had already booked myself on a Bess Taster Tour in the afternoon before discovering this. I am actually glad I did the Taster, though, as I did get a longer and more detailed outline about Bess of Hardwick, which helped to make up a little for the lack of written information.

One thing that Hardwick’s management couldn’t help was the weather and I was disappointed to find that the rooftop tour I had hoped to join had been called off due to high winds, while the same meteorological intervention put paid to my visit to Hardwick Old Hall. This has only recently reopened after an English Heritage conservation project and is offered to Trust members via a reciprocal deal with that charity. It is basically a ruin, though, and was clearly considered unsafe in the inclement conditions. I took some photos from the outside, but it was a shame I couldn’t take a closer look.

The ruined Old Hall (you can just see some of the restored plasterwork through the empty windows)

The Old Hall is where Elizabeth Hardwick was born and where she returned later in life, expanding it into a grander property before turning her attentions to creating a real status symbol in the shape of the newer hall next door. Bess came from relatively modest stock, but ended her life the richest woman in England, having accrued wealth and status through marriage, shrewd social climbing, and close friendship with royalty. She married no fewer than four times and outlived every one of her husbands.

When her father died leaving his young family in financial straits, Bess had to go into service and become a lady’s maid. While doing this, she married Robert Barlow, of similar social standing to herself, but was soon widowed. Her second marriage was to Sir William Cavendish, a man who was at least 20 or 30 years older than her, but who represented a further step up the social ladder, making her Lady Cavendish. She gave him six children that survived to adulthood, and this is the line that later includes the Dukes of Devonshire. It was during this time in the 1550s that Bess and William built the original house at Chatsworth, which was their main residence.

When Cavendish died, she married Sir William St Loe who was so besotted with her that he left her all of his property when he died in the mid-1560s, leading to fights with the St Loe family who were horrified that this gold-digger had ‘stolen’ what was rightfully theirs. Before agreeing to marry George Talbot, 6^th Earl of Shrewsbury in 1568, shrewd Bess made arrangements to marry a couple of her children to a couple of his, thus cementing her own blood in the Shrewsbury line as well as the Cavendish one. This was a woman with vision, wisdom and intelligence.

Our Bess

By the time of this last marriage, Bess was a Lady of the Bedchamber with close access to Queen Elizabeth I (who was godmother to her first Cavendish son). This did not ultimately bode well for wedded bliss as Elizabeth entrusted George and Bess with the imprisonment of Mary, Queen of Scots, and they were responsible for keeping her under house arrest from 1569 for around 15 years, both at Chatsworth and at others of their properties. During this time, Bess inevitably spent a great deal of time with Mary and the embroidery hangings on show at Oxburgh Hall (see Oxburgh entry) were worked by the pair together. Unfortunately, keeping a Queen in the manner to which she is accustomed was an expensive business and it ultimately broke the Talbot marriage. The pair were perhaps never well-suited and George eventually had enough of his (perhaps pushy) wife and sent her away from Chatsworth in disgrace.

Bess returned to Hardwick where she had the Old Hall completely rebuilt. Then, she turned her attention to the building of a newer, yet more impressive sign of her wealth and status. She was one of the first ever property owners to employ an architect to plan her house and these plans are still held in the archive of the Royal Institute of British Architects. When she moved into the new hall in 1597, she was already in her 70s but remained a formidable woman with pots of money and the ear of the Queen.

Despite many future residents, the story of Hardwick Hall very much belongs to Bess. Even the house itself still bears her mark, with the prominent initials E.S. (Elizabeth, Countess Shrewsbury) standing out against the sky on the battlemented roofline. The amount of glass in Hardwick Hall is another remarkable feature as, at the time, it was relatively rare to have such large windows. In fact, Bess founded her own glassworks to provide the glazing for her project. So impressive was this aspect of Hardwick that a rhyme emerged: ‘Hardwick Hall, more glass than wall’.

The High Great Chamber

Personally, I have been around a number of Elizabethan manor houses in my travels, but nothing even comes close to this property in terms of size and scale. The vast entrance hall immediately inspires awe, but in Bess’s day, this was only a servants’ hall, and the visitor would be guided up the vast stone staircase to the top floor before being truly welcomed into the state apartments. The High Great Chamber is simply stunning, with its tapestries and huge painted plasterwork frieze. If you look closely in the corner above the door you enter through, you can see the artist of the frieze who painted himself into his work.

From there, you move through into the Long Gallery, which is perhaps bigger than any I have seen before, if maybe not as ornate. It is reported to be 50 metres long and the 6^th Duke of Devonshire is said to have raced his greyhounds backwards and forwards. Work on one of the tapestries revealed discoloration along the bottom that was ultimately traced to dog urine! The life of an NT conservator can surely never be dull, with these kinds of discoveries lurking among the artefacts.

Sadly, the renowned Sea Dog table and portrait of Elizabeth I, which I witnessed going on their travels in a documentary about the National Trust’s treasures are not yet back, so I missed seeing those. Apparently, they are back in the country but are yet to make their return to Hardwick. Among the multitude of portraits that are available to view in the house, my favourites were obviously those of Bess herself. Her story is inspirational for women everywhere: although she married into money along the way, she was also an extremely wise and intelligent businesswoman once she had it. In a time when associations at Court were dangerous things, she also managed to look after herself, her family and her money with equal skill.

Without a guidebook, I cannot tell if there are any other significant stories in the Hardwick history. It would seem that, after Bess died in 1608, a few years after her Queen, the Cavendishes continued to base themselves mainly at Chatsworth and it is there that most investment in architectural alterations were made. This benefited Hardwick Hall for the future visitor as relatively little has been significantly altered in the intervening centuries. The Cavendish Dukes of Devonshire mainly used Hardwick as a hunting estate or weekend house and few of them lived there long-term.

There are a few stories about the 6^th Duke who sounds more than a little opinionated. As well as racing his dogs in the Long Gallery, he also changed the approach up the grand stairs by adding tapestries to every wall. He apparently had little love of tapestries but there were plenty hanging around at Hardwick, and he hated the blank walls even more, so he made full use of what was available. He is also said to have disliked sleeping in the Green Velvet Bedchamber, as the admittedly ugly stonework around the fire and doorframe was an eyesore to him and he called it the ‘Derbyshire quarry in the corner’.

The last of the Cavendishes to make a mark at Hardwick was Evelyn Cavendish, wife of the 9^th Duke, who settled herself there after the death of her husband. She lived permanently at the house from 1938 to around 1956 and several of the rooms on the middle floor are laid out as they would have been in her time. It was she that gave the house over to the National Trust as part payment of death duties.

There are a couple of other things to mention about Hardwick. For anyone interested in tapestries and embroidery, this is a must-see house. Bess never commissioned her own tapestries to be made, but she bought widely, including the valuable Gideon tapestries that line the Long Gallery. She even deducted five pounds from the cost of these as she needed to add her own coat of arms to replace that of former owner Christopher Hatton. Bess certainly made her mark wherever possible and, in fact, one of the first things you will see in the entrance hall is the massive coat of arms over the fireplace. Nothing could say ‘this is Bess’s house’ any more boldly.

In addition to the tapestries, there are some important appliqué wall hangings on show, including two of the four Noble Women of the Ancient World pieces, made using rich material from Church vestments. Penelope and Lucrecia have been conserved by the textile specialists at Blickling Hall and have their own display room on the ground floor of the hall.

The gardens at Hardwick are not extensive so I did a quick march around the lawn to the back of the house, where I found a lurking statue of Mary, Queen of Scots, and then shot around the main garden area in between showers. Perhaps not surprisingly, I didn’t see another soul in there as it really was soggy today, both above and underfoot. All in all, I really enjoyed learning the full story of Bess of Hardwick and visiting her impressive home, but this was a day of ups and downs. Now, I’m off to eBay to see if I can find a guidebook…

Highlights: Bess’s story; High Great Chamber; Entrance Hall; Long Gallery

Refreshments: Pot of tea; vegan sausages, mash and greens

Purchase(s): None

Companion(s): None

NT Connections: Oxburgh Hall where the Marian Hangings (worked by Mary, Queen of Scots, and Bess of Hardwick) were being displayed during my visit there

NB: Stainsby Mill on the Hardwick Estate had not published its opening times prior to my booking this trip and I found that it had only opened in the summer months and is now closed until next year. As a result – and in light of the number of mills you can already read about on this blog – I have taken the executive decision to remove it from the list as I do not want to return to this area just for another lesson in milling. It is a shame, though, so if by chance I am passing this way in the summer, I will try to visit in the interests of completeness. But for now, it has been unceremoniously abandoned.

200. Calke Abbey – 19/9/2023

200 up! The end is now only 60 or so properties away, which doesn’t sound like much at all. It took me about three years to do the first 60 though, so there is still a fair amount of holiday planning to be done over the next few years.

Calke Abbey was a good choice for such an important milestone, as it was an interesting visit that left me a lot to ponder. It also took me quite a while to read the 60+ page guidebook this evening, but I now have a clearer picture of the many Harpurs and Harpur Crewes who lived at and made their mark on Calke. Some are much more significant than others so I will focus on just a few here, but before I do, I will discuss the philosophy behind the Trust’s offering at Calke Abbey as it is very different from those found elsewhere.

Only yesterday, I mentioned how much I appreciate the restoration of dated and damaged items in the Trust’s properties, but when it comes to Calke, complete restoration would probably have broken the bank in very short order. As a result, instead of restoring the house to its heyday, the National Trust decided to present it in a state of ‘managed deterioration’, with the emphasis on ‘repair, not restore’. In this way, it can show the impact that war, death duties and taxation had on country estates and demonstrate the decay and dilapidation this led to. For many houses, these financial strains were fatal, and the buildings were simply pulled down. I have already witnessed the sad impact of this, most notably in the absence of the dramatic Clumber Park house from its parkland, with just a line of stones now marking where it once stood in all its glory. At Calke, the decay has become a core part of the visitor experience and can still be witnessed all over the house, from chipped paint, peeling wallpaper, and stacks of abandoned belongings. The Trust made only essential repairs to make the house safe and has left the rest much as it was when it took it on in 1985.

Even this ‘managed deterioration’ takes work and money, however, and there must have been huge expense involved in repairing the roof in the early days. In fact, it is only thanks to Government support through an improved endowment fund that the National Trust could afford to take Calke at all, such was the challenge it faced with the crumbling building. Even today, I saw workmen dealing with damaged window frames and one of the volunteers told me that they daren’t clean the windows in case the glass drops out. Another told me that hairspray was used to ‘freeze’ peeling wallpaper in its tracks, and while I am not sure how true this is, it certainly makes for a good story. This is history told in a very different way.

Palms in the sheltered flower garden

One part of the property that seems to have been given more attention in terms of repairs and restoration is the walled gardens, where the Orangery has had its domed roof replaced, while glasshouses and one of the two Peach Houses have also been returned to their former states. Gardens cannot be left to rack and ruin as they will continue to grow and change themselves, so there has clearly been a lot of work done to create a thriving kitchen garden in the old Physic Garden area, while flower gardens and borders are also well cared for. At the same time, however, the Trust has left parts of the garden that had already deteriorated too far before the 1980s. One of the Peach Houses was too far gone to save, while the main walled Kitchen Garden, a vast space of 4 acres once planted with a multitude of different fruits and vegetables, has been left as meadow. It is occasionally used as a children’s play area in the summer or to house pregnant ewes and their lambs in the spring, so the Trust has found new uses for it, but there are no plans to restore the rows of produce, which are perfectly happy and thriving in the more compact Physic Garden instead.

I learned a lot about the walled gardens at Calke after joining a small group on a garden tour this afternoon. I expected a tour of around 40 minutes, but it was well over an hour in the end, albeit a broadly interesting hour, introducing me to oddities like the auricula ‘theatre’, used to best display these spring plants (also now used by the gardeners for pelargoniums and later the Halloween pumpkin display), and the gardener’s tunnel, built so the staff could go backwards and forwards to the house without being seen by the family. Detail about the machinery, boilers and pipe systems used to heat the Orangery walls had me glazing over a little, but all in all, it was a good tour and gave me a lot more information than I would have gathered on a self-guided wander around the area.

Getting back to the broad history of the house and family. Calke Abbey has never been an abbey, but there was a priory on the site in the early 12^th century. The first private house was built here in the 1570s and parts of the Tudor structure still exist within the outer 18^th century building. Henry Harpur, the 1^st Baronet, bought Calke in 1622 and his descendants lived there for the next 360 years. The family had previously built their great wealth through lucrative marriages and shrewd land management, with their estates once covering 33,000 acres across a swathe of south Derbyshire, Staffordshire and Leicestershire. The Trust now manages 2,300 acres, of which 600 cover the park and gardens around the house.

Henry Harpur’s father, Sir John, was one of the wealthiest men in England by the time he died, so Henry was in a good position to buy Calke Abbey and add its extensive lands to his already thriving estates. The most influential Harpur, however, was his great-grandson, Sir John Harpur, 4^th Baronet, who, as soon as he came of age (having inherited as an infant), rebuilt Calke Abbey between 1702 and 1704. He built the bulk of the grand house we see today, setting it in a formal landscape with neat gardens. These lasted until 1773 when the 6^th Baronet (another Henry, although known as Harry) employed renowned landscaper William Emes to do away with the formality and naturalise the landscape, as was the trend at the time. Harry also built the walled gardens and Orangery.

There is another story about Harry that piqued my interest. The Harpurs have been involved in the management and breeding of racehorses for several centuries and Harry was one of the first. One of his prize horses, Squirt (not the most eminent name for a super horse!), was due to be destroyed after developing laminitis, but one of the grooms fought for him and persuaded the Baronet to use him for breeding instead. He ultimately became the grand-sire of Eclipse, one of the most famous racehorses in history from whom more than 80% of Derby winners since 1780 are descended. I do love my horse racing so this was a fascinating fact I learnt in the stable block.

The unique Caricature Room

The 7th Baronet (another Henry) broke the mould in marrying down rather than choosing an heiress, and it was actually refreshing to hear about one of these landed gents finally choosing love over money. As well as adding the Greek portico to the front of the house, he possibly also created the unique Caricature Room (the only one in the country), which sports comical caricatures pasted scrapbook-style to the walls, including work by such renowned names as Gillray and Cruickshank. The biggest mark of the 7th Baronet was perhaps made in the Dining Room, although this is now also the most controversial room in the house. Where most rooms have not been restored, the Trust put the Dining Room back to its original state before Charles redecorated in 1961, but some disagree with this decision. Personally, this was one of my favourite rooms in the house thanks to its cleaner, more original condition, but it still didn’t feel particularly homely. In fact, despite the family’s possessions scattered in every nook and cranny, Calke doesn’t feel very much like a home at all. This could be due to the dilapidated state of the place, with the sense that a ceiling could fall on you at any moment (not conducive to comfort and relaxation), but the family’s seeming obsession with dead animals also didn’t help.

The Saloon filled with taxidermy

I am not sure I have ever witnessed such a vast collection of taxidermy in one place, so it was simply mind-boggling to learn that half the collection was sold by a later member of the Harper Crewe family while short of funds. The collection was started by the 7^th Baronet and greatly expanded first by Sir John Harpur Crewe, the 9^th Baronet (who had many of the display cabinets built) and then by his own son, Vauncey (at last, not a John or a Henry!).  Vauncey had a real passion for natural history and he collected shells, minerals, fossils, insects, butterflies, grasses, and eggs, as well as stuffed animals and birds. He shot many of his specimens himself and it is reported that he was usually seen on the estate with a shotgun over one arm and a butterfly net on his shoulder. It seems if he couldn’t catch it, he would just shoot it!

Many visitors will be sickened by the number of animals and birds now stuck in cases around the house, but I just couldn’t get away from the irony of a situation that sees these dead things as the best-preserved pieces in the house. While the family’s other belongings are falling apart or covered in dust, the stuffed creatures have survived largely unscathed in their glass cases and appear to be having the last laugh over the demise of the Harpur Crewes and their house.

I will finish the family story quickly with Hilda Mosley (née Harpur Crewe) who sold off half the nature collection in 1925 to cover death duties, and who was the first to shut up parts of the house and move into a smaller area. Her nephew Charles took this further and left more of the house to deteriorate, so much so that when asked to entertain as High Sheriff of Derbyshire, he had to have a new kitchen area built before the caterers would agree to take on the job. Sadly, Charles died in the parkland one evening in 1981 and was found by an estate worker in the morning. His brother Henry was the last of the family at Calke and was responsible for negotiating with government, heritage funds and the National Trust to ensure the preservation of the house and its plethora of contents.

As far as the history of Calke is concerned, I am slightly envious of those who have worked there over the past 40 years as I imagine the research involved in the wider house project would have been fascinating. The guidebook suggests that the team had access to family diaries and letters as well as estate books, and I would love to have trawled through these, uncovering new surprising facts.

The Harpurs and Harpur Crewes were certainly hoarders, and I was stunned at the amount of ‘junk’ lying about the house, from deer skulls on beds to a cupboard containing old parasols and swimming costumes! I am less envious of those uncovering box after box of this dusty ‘stuff’, but even here it seems there have been some gems. In fact, one room in the house displays the personal research library of Sir John Gardner Wilkinson, the father of British Egyptology, who was a cousin of Georgiana, Lady Crewe, wife of the 9^th Baronet. He apparently bequeathed his valuable collection of books to his cousin, but the Trust discovered them dumped in storage, alongside much of the other family junk, and were slightly stunned at what they found in the boxes. The books are now displayed at Calke in their very own room.

I apologise for this very long entry but there really is a lot to say about Calke. Even if it is perhaps not the most attractive or awe-inspiring property in the Trust’s arsenal, it certainly makes for an interesting visit. Another thing to ponder, however, is whether or not this ‘repair, not restore’ approach has staying power. The decay will inevitably continue and there may come a day when it is no longer possible to ‘manage’ the dilapidation. Full restoration could ultimately become essential. Until then, though, Calke stands as a fairly unique experiment that offers the average Trust visitor something very different. As it says in some of the promotional literature, this is a very ‘un-stately’ home.

Living animals in the deer park (a relief after all the taxidermy)

Highlights: A fascinating tale of decay; surprisingly good gardens

Refreshments: Hot chocolate; Tomato and mozzarella frittata with potato salad, slaw and leaves

Purchase(s): Gifts; embroidered badge; ‘National Trust On Screen’ book; three secondhand books (‘The Muse’ by Jessie Burton, ‘The Confession’ by Jessie Burton, ‘Bridge of Clay’ by Markus Zusak)

Companion(s): None

199. Winster Market House – 18/9/2023

I am not sure why the Winster Market House is on my list or why I didn’t remove it at the start of this trip (as I plan to do with Stainsby Mill later this week!). However, feeling obedient to the former self who thought fit to include it, I decided to tag an hour’s return journey on to the end of my Kedleston day. If nothing else, it was a pleasant drive past Carsington Water reservoir and through picturesque Brassington, a village built on a hill.

Winster is another village built on the slopes of a Derbyshire hillside and its Market House is a 300-year-old structure in the heart of the once thriving community. Winster’s heyday as a lead-mining area in the 18^th century resulted in the construction of many fine houses between around 1720 and 1770 and many of these still stand along Main Street today. As part of this thriving town (as it was then described), the Market House was built as a trading post for the weekly Saturday markets where local farmers would purvey their wares.

The lower level would once have been open so goods could be bought and sold under cover of the upper floor. Today, however, the lower arches are bricked up and the only access is up the worn stone steps to the first floor where the Trust presents a series of display boards about the village and the Market House. It is an unmanned site so you can just walk in and have a quick look around.

The House’s main claim to fame appears to be that it was the first property the National Trust took on in the Peak District. It paid £50 for the building in 1906, making this a very early part of the Trust’s then small but discerning portfolio. It only took me about 10 minutes to ‘explore’, i.e. read the display boards. These provide information on the history of the village/town, the rise and fall of the lead mining industry, the village’s ancient traditions and customs (including Wakes Week in June and the accompanying Morris dances, some of which are unique to Winster), and the story of its transfer to the National Trust.

The last display board was quite heart-warming as, alongside a cabinet of artefacts, it relates the story of Winster’s twinning with another hillside town: Monterubbiano in Italy. Exchange visits between the two communities began in 1986 and continue regularly today, with schoolchildren communicating across borders, while the Morris dancers of Winster are matched by Monterubbiano’s Sbandieratori drummers and flagwavers. One of the traditional flags is on display in the Market House, alongside football memorabilia and other items that tie the two communities together.

While the Market House itself may not be the most earth-shattering of the Trust’s properties, I like the fact that it is being used as a kind of mini tourist information office for this pretty village, so worth a look if you are in Winster but perhaps not worth an hour’s round trip.

Highlights: Tales of twinning

Refreshments: None

Purchase(s): None

Companion(s): None

198. Kedleston Hall – 18/9/2023

Normal service at a stately home was restored today and I could enjoy the stunning delights of Kedleston Hall with good information in each room, a detailed guidebook, and not a child in sight all day. My charmed life with the British weather appears to be coming to an end, however, and I am due some soggy days. With a bit of careful planning today, though, I managed to explore a little of Kedleston’s parkland and the Pleasure Grounds behind the house before the rain arrived.

One thing I loved about this property from the word ‘go’ was the sense of importance you feel on the approach. The long drive down to the house follows the very route that the visitors of the past would have taken, even as far as leading you over the Adam-designed arched bridge that separates two of the lakes. As my car was heading straight for the front of the house, I wondered if I might have taken a wrong turn somewhere and was about to set off the alarms and be forcibly removed from the premises… but just as I neared the ornate gates in front of the Palladian mansion, the driveway curved to the right and took me into a run-of-the-mill car park. My pre-visit cup of tea also put me back in my place as the restaurant is located in the west wing of the house, once occupied by the old kitchen and very much the service arm of the property.

The visitor to the house today also enters through the Caesars’ Hall, which is on the lower level of the mansion, whereas the Curzons’ guests would have been taken straight up the vast steps at the front and into the dramatic Marble Hall above. A little introduction from the waiting volunteer, a visit to the lockers to dump my clutter, and a short walk up the stairs meant that I had to wait a couple of minutes to reach the Marble Hall but it was eminently worth waiting for, with its rows of huge alabaster columns, copies of classical statues and dramatic Adam plasterwork on walls and ceiling. At any other property, you might say that this is the room with the ‘wow’ factor, but there were plenty more wows to come.

So, how did we get this awe-inspiring house? It is largely due to one member of the Curzon family and the consequent preservation of his vision by future generations. The Curzons arrived in England with William the Conqueror and their association with Kedleston dates to around the 1150s (in fact, it continues to this day as Curzon descendants still live in the east wing). Over the centuries, the family gradually expanded its wealth and influence. When Sir Nathaniel Curzon (1725-1804), the 5th Baronet and later 1st Lord Scarsdale, inherited the estate in 1758, aged 32, he spared no expense in building his vision of the ideal country house. He was quick to knock down the house his grandfather had built as well as moving the nearby village (that seems to be a theme this week, poor old villagers) to give himself an idyllic parkland setting in which to place his new home, something that he hoped would rival Chatsworth. This rivalry clearly went beyond money and status as Curzon was a staunch Tory and Chatsworth was a Whig house.

The stunning Marble Hall

Nathaniel employed a series of architects to design his ideal home, but nothing seemed quite right until he met Robert Adam. At last, he had found someone whose ideas and sensibilities matched his own and this marriage made in heaven bore heavenly results. Very similar in age to Curzon, Robert Adam was already firmly committed to the principles of classical and Roman architecture and was even nicknamed ‘Bob the Roman’. His designs can now be found in many stately homes around the country, but Kedleston was his first and one of his most important surviving works. Not only did he design both the exterior and interiors of the house, but he also contributed to the landscape and the various buildings in the parkland.

It is interesting to note that Sir Nathaniel Curzon had already been collecting art prior to building the house so there is evidence in some rooms that the interiors were designed with specific pieces in mind. In the Music Room, for example, Adam’s decoration includes plasterwork picture frames in the exact sizes to house certain paintings, which appear almost inset into the wall. The interiors also feature a wealth of statuary, comprising casts and copies of recognized classical pieces. Curzon did also commission items specifically for the house, most notably furniture by John Linnell of London, including my favourite pieces of pure bling, the vast sofas in the Drawing Room (1765), with their brightly gilded maritime figures on the arms and legs.

The somewhat ‘bling’ Drawing Room

Although broadly original, these sofas have been re-covered since coming into the hands of the National Trust and this brings me onto something that I find slightly contradictory when it comes to the Trust and its approach to repairs and conservation. On one hand, the charity claims to have a fairly strong policy of preserving things as they were when they received them, but on the other hand, I continue to come across things that have been fully restored. In this instance, a significant restoration project from 2008 to 2016 transformed the Drawing Room and the State Apartments on the other side of the house, with the refreshment of new silk wall hangings and a fully refurbished state bed, as well as the re-covered sofas. I am fully in favour of this approach as nothing lasts forever and there is no harm in presenting something as it was intended to look, just as Lord Curzon bought copies of statues to achieve his desired impact.

I must mention one or two other things that I noted on my tour of the house, including the unusually curved oak floorboards in the Family Corridor. A simple thing on the face of it, but clearly not at all simple to fashion. Meanwhile, in the library, the bookcases are each marked with a letter from A-G and the room guide told me this was pure and simply a cataloguing issue, i.e. you’ll find the three volumes of the History of Kent in bookcase A (and, no, I have no idea why Lord Curzon had a history of Kent!). I briefly toyed with the idea of adding lettering to my own bookcases at home, but as they are scattered all over the house – and in fact more than one house – I decided it wouldn’t have the same impact as the neat flow of bookcases in this room. There is also a chair in the Library that I would like to take home: designed specifically for bookworms, the reader would sit straddling the seat and facing the back – à la Christine Keeler, although with more clothes I would hope! – and could rest arms on the comfortable padded rests and a book on the in-built lectern.

The Saloon is the other room I simply have to mention as it is the second time this year that I have visited something designed to resemble Rome’s Pantheon. I think Stowe’s oval example is perhaps slightly more impressive, but take nothing away from Kedleston’s Saloon as it is another stunning room. The roof is dramatic with its central skylight, while the niches around the circular room house classic urns and there are paintings of Roman ruins under the frieze. Meanwhile, the wall lights with their classical design and plasterwork swags are archetypal Adam.

The other aspect of Kedleston that may be of particular interest to some relates to a much later member of the family. While the Curzons remained at Kedleston, living the lives of landed gentry, for many more generations, George Nathaniel Curzon (1859-1925), who inherited the house in 1916, left more of a mark with his museum of Asian artefacts. George took several new family titles, becoming variously Marquess Curzon, Earl Curzon, 1^st Viscount Scarsdale and 1^st Baron Ravensdale. He was a major force in politics, serving as Viceroy of India from 1899 to 1905 and as Britain’s Foreign Secretary from 1919 to 1924. He fully expected to become Prime Minister at some point, but his titles did him no favours as Parliament decided the PM should come from the Commons and he missed out.

In his early travels around Asia and later service in India, he accumulated a significant collection of objects from many countries in the region and these are presented in the Eastern Museum, which leads off the Caesars’ Hall on the lower floor. Parts of his collection are now in the V&A but others remain at Kedleston. At present, an Indian jewellery designer from Derby has an installation at Kedleston, in which the meaning of jewellery to the Indian maharanis is highlighted through photos and a video. This is an interesting accompaniment to Lord Curzon’s collection, with its empirical associations, and is a good example of how the Trust is balancing the British history of its houses with the history of other cultures that have been impacted by them and their owners.

I had previously read about Lord Curzon’s tenancy of Montacute House in Somerset, largely so he had a place to spend time with his mistress, while the guidebook also tells me that he was against women’s suffrage, so I am not sure I would have got on all that well with our George. On the other hand, we should perhaps forgive him some of his misdemeanours or ‘of-their-time’ opinions as he was also a strong advocate for preserving history and worked closely with the National Trust to gift them both Tattershall Castle in Lincolnshire and Bodiam Castle in East Sussex. It was, therefore, fitting that his own nephew recognised the importance of this aspect of his character and arranged for the Trust to take Kedleston on in 1987, something for which we should all be grateful. Occasionally, I come across a property that is a ‘highlight’ in its entirety and this is one of them for me: a jewel in Derbyshire’s crown.

The rear view, inspired by Rome’s Arch of Constantine

Highlights: Marble Hall; Saloon; Drawing Room… I could go on!

Refreshments: Tea and a Twix; Tuscan tomato soup with a hunk of bloomer

Purchase(s): Guidebook; birthday cards; ‘Bel Ami’ by Guy de Maupassant from the secondhand bookshop, plus a ‘Blind Date with a Book’, i.e. a surprise purchase that isn’t clearly identified until it is unwrapped…. at which point I found it was something I already own and have read twice already… DOH! I won’t be falling for that one again.

Companion(s): None

NT Connections: Tattershall Castle and Bodiam Castle, both saved for the nation by Lord Curzon; he was also once a tenant at Montacute House