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Fifty-Five

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Yesterday we drove over the border to Derbyshire, an hour up the road, to visit Kedleston Hall, gifted to The National Trust in 1951.


Commissioned in 1765 by Nathaniel Curzon, Kedleston Hall was designed by celebrated architect Robert Adam as a house to rival the nearby Chatsworth. Intended as a temple of the arts and as the location for flashy parties, the main house was never meant to be a family home, but a show palace in which to showcase the finest paintings, sculptures and furniture.


Kedleston Hall is the ancestral residence of the Curzon family who came to Britain from Normandy during the reign of William the Conqueror, settling at Kedleston in the 1150s where the family still live in a private wing. The part open to the public, The West Wing, was never inhabited.


With freezing temperatures and torrential rain which sporadically turned to sleet, Robert Adam's Pleasure Grounds had trouble living up to their name. Although the car park was full, we were the only fools brave enough to do the three-mile Ladies Walk.


Despite the weather, the gardens were still rather beautiful in an elegantly faded and somewhat soggy fashion.












The Mediaeval village of Kedleston was demolished in 1759 to make way for Nathaniel Curzon's party palace and all that remains is All Saints Church, established in 1198 but rebuilt in the 13th Century. 



Mounted on the wall above the main window is a sundial with the inscription "We shall" and decorated with skulls and crossbones. As the sundial operates all day, the message was a play on words by the maker - We shall all die. A cheery greeting to any house guest looking out from the bedroom opposite.

Normally we'd have wandered around the graveyard and spent time reading the headstones but we were wringing wet and, worried my damp Afghan might start smelling like the old goat it came from, we made our way towards the Hall.


Lovers of clean lines, bare walls and minimalism look away now!



Twenty alabaster columns with Corinthian capitals support the heavily decorated, high-coved cornice whilst niches contain classical statuary. The floor is of inlaid Italian marble. The original designs for this room intended for it to be lit by conventional windows at the northern end, but Adam, warming to the Roman theme, did away with the distracting windows and lit the whole from the roof through an innovative glass skylight.



The hall symbolises the atrium of a Roman villa. The adjoining vestibule saloon, like the marble hall, rises to 62 feet, where it too is sky-lit through a glass oculus. Designed as a sculpture gallery, the room was completed in 1763, the theme based on the temples of the Roman forum. 



Ignore the tree (I generally do) and feast your eyes on those Adam-designed doorways. 


There's an Adam fireplace in every room, each and every one a work of art. There were security cameras focussed on the silverware, designed to remind diners of how wealthy their hosts were.


The ladies' salon, where the women would retreat to whilst their menfolk played billiards was my favourite room. The wallpaper is silk and the chandelier is made from Waterford crystal. Give me a silk damask settee with reclining gold Greek gods for arms over an on-trend grey one any day of the week. 








That's us under the masks!


 


This 18th Century Ormolu mirror is listed as one of the National Trust's 125 Greatest Treasures. Something else I wouldn't mind owning!


The aristocratic Curzon family held numerous titles from as far back as 1066, the most famous being that of the chap in the painting above, George Curzon, Viscount Scarsdale, the 1st Baron Curzon of Kedleston who was appointed Viceroy of India from 1898 - 1911.


In 1895 George married Mary,the daughter of Levi Ziegler Leiter, an American millionaire and co-founder of the Chicago department store Field & Leiter (later Marshall Field). Initially, he had just married her for her money so he could save his estate but ended up developing feelings for her. Mary had a long and nearly fatal illness near the end of summer 1904, from which she never really recovered. Falling ill again in July 1906, she died on the 18th of that month in her husband's arms, at the age of 36. It was said to be the greatest personal loss of his life.

Mary was the woman who commissioned - and wore - the legendary Peacock Dress. This painting by William Logsail was completed in 1909, several years after her death. Talking of which, here it is.....


As I mentioned in my last post, the chiffon fabric was woven with gold and silver thread by craftsmen in India then shipped to Paris, where it was designed and made into a dress by The House of Worth. It weighs almost 10lbs and those jewel-like beads are actually beetle wings that gleam like emeralds beneath the light.










It's beautiful now, can you imagine what it'll look like after restoration? I'll be first in the queue. The Museum of Indian Treasures was also closed due to restoration works and we're both very keen to see that when it reopens.


 
We dashed around in the rain for a bit longer, fondled a few Greek gods and goddesses and then sat in Patrice and tucked into cheese sandwiches accompanied by a flask of tea before driving the 38 miles back home.






That's my new birthday dress, by the way. The joy of being a grown-up means you can buy yourself presents! 

The evening was spent in pretty much the same way as birthdays have been spent since I was a teenager (with the exception of last year's lockdown), meeting friends, going to the pub, downing a few beers and having a curry.

Thanks so much for the birthday love! The comments, emails, Facebook messages, presents and both the real (and virtual cards) more than made up for the atrocious weather. I do wish Jesus would stop trying to take over - it's not his birthday for another three weeks and yet again he had to muscle in on my special day. A pile of Xmas cards arrived in the post, I had to endure a carol service in 'Spoons and an abysmal soundtrack of naff Xmas songs during our curry. After the third playing of Stop The Cavalry, I was ready to start bashing my head against the table.

A favourite pit stop taken on our travels in Bombay back in 2018

The celebrations continue tomorrow, I'm meeting a friend in Birmingham and we're off for a slap-up lunch in a Bombay-style Iranian cafe. See you soon!


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