however artistic, which was, so to speak, common property. Lady Fermanagh's decision to live in Claydon House, even at the expense of destroying so much, instead of letting it, may have arisen from her acquaintance with the family history. In the sixteenth century the Giffards obtained a lease of the estate from one of the family for eighty years, and the member of that family who took it was very anxious to have this extended to a hundred. He at length succeeded in getting what he desired by throwing in a famous hunter, valued at £30-an enormous price for a horse in those days. This was a dear horse for the Verneys, for when Sir Edmund Verney, in 1620, purchased the remainder of the lease, the price he had to pay so crippled him that he could not spend anything on the estate. This Sir Edmund is one of the favourite family heroes of the Verneys, from his connexion with Charles I. Even people who do not know his history have heard his name, for a magnificent and well-known portrait was painted of him by Vandyke, which still hangs on the walls; and he also appears in the portrait of Charles in the Louvre as his standard bearer. His death on the field of Edgehill has more than the usual amount of romance connected with it. His body was never identified, but when the battlefield was searched by the Royalists a severed hand, still holding a piece of the broken banner, was found, which was recognized by the signet-ring. This hand was taken and reverently buried at Claydon House, and, if the Verney records are to be relied on, the ghost of the old cavalier looking for his hand was for more than a century a familiar figure. His son, Sir Ralph Verney, lived abroad until the Restoration, when he returned and distinguished himself in politics. Some of his letters while in exile are of interest. In asking a friend regarding the state of things in Claydon House, he speaks of the Claydon House, Bucks 'leather carpets for the dininge and drawinge rooms,' and particularly inquires about the looking-glasses of which there should at least be four.' The old house of Claydon not only possesses the inevitable ghost of its own, but a secret room and staircase, of which the secret was so well kept that all recollection of them was lost. They were discovered and destroyed by Sir Harry Verney in 1860. There was only space in the secret room for ten men to stand upright, and the entrance was through a trap-door from the floor of the old muniment room, now known as the panelled room. Though the exterior of Claydon House no longer resembles Adam's conception, the interiors of the part which is left are in a most thorough state of preservation. The study of them, though exceedingly interesting, presents many quite unlooked for difficulties. There is almost none of the typical colour scheme of Adam, the only vestige remaining being the cornice in the saloon. This absence of colour was probably due to the earl's idea of combining magnificence with simplicity. The carved wood-work, which abounds all over the house, was covered with plain white paint, and with this in view soft wood was employed. In parts, as in the pink parlour, which is now one of the entrances, this paint has since been removed, with not the best results artistically. There is, unfortunately, no trustworthy date for the rebuilding, but it was almost certainly quite early in Adam's career, probably just after his return from Rome in 1758. Although much of the decoration is purely and recognizably Adam's, most of the carved wood-work is absolutely unlike his style. Where it differs from Adam it usually resembles Chippendale, even down to minutiae of treatment and ornament. Water, for instance, is represented precisely as it would have been by Chip pendale, Lock, or Johnson; and the fivepetalled flower, so common in Chippendale's early designs, occurs several times. On the other hand, here and there, as in the overmantel of the north hall,' occur designs which have nothing to do with Chippendale or with any work then going on in the country. Perhaps the theme of some of the woodwork in this overmantel was suggested by Lord Verney himself. There have always been swans on the ornamental water at Claydon House, and these appear in the overmantel. They are carved with wings outspread in impossible shells (overrunning with impossible water) connected by a toy bridge, which is surmounted by a piece of broken scroll-work, in which the sides are varied in Chippendale's favourite manner. The alcove frames in this room' are also almost certainly not of Robert Adam's own designing, but they do not seem to be by the same hand as the overmantel. A heron takes the place of the long-beaked bird so dear to the heart of the eighteenth-century carver, while at the top is a creature which might have come straight out of Lewis Carroll's Wonderland. Its beak, body, and wings are something between a dragon and a duck, and its tail ends in corkscrew evolutions, reminding one irresistibly of the 'slithy toves.' Below these are human heads surmounting plinths, while all around runs flamboyant carving with somewhat too realistic additions of flowers. The realism, the dragon-like beast, and the mixture of classic and flamboyant, are all strongly suggestive of Lock's hand. On attempting to verify my impression I found, in the South Kensington Library, a rough pen-and-ink jotting of Lock's, which might have been, and most probably was, a first sketch for these identical frames. The Chinese room, on the other hand, which is one of the most remarkable things in the house, is, one could almost swear, 1 See illustration on page 17. the work of Chippendale. It is not the exist in Scotland, and it became most fashionable in London during his absence in Rome. It is possible, of course, that, being commissioned to design a Chinese room, he had recourse to Chippendale's Director,' and used that as a guide in preference to the more correct drawings of Chambers, so as to avoid any possibility of being accused of copying his great rival. This, however, would not account for the introduction of the flower already mentioned, which is given nowhere in the Director.' The doors of the Chinese room would seem themselves to settle the matter.3 They are composed of the same material as the undoubtedly Adam doors all over the house, but are carved on both sides in the Chinese manner.' It is therefore more than probable that Adam not only had all this work manufactured by one of the carvers of the time, probably Thomas Chippendale, but also that he allowed him a free hand in its production. In this connexion there is an interesting fact regarding the great central staircase, which, instead of banisters, has a balustrade in wrought iron of a beautifully flowing design. This wrought iron is evidently an afterthought, for, stored away in an old garret, about a dozen carved wooden banisters were recently found, all of different patterns, which were evidently made for the purpose of trying their effect on this stair case. It is quite unlikely that Robert Adam, even as a young man, would have taken the trouble to make all these different designs; but it is quite what might have been expected if an English carver, whether Chippendale or another, had been anxious 2 See illustration on page 29. 3 See illustration on page 31. 14 |