The Wanderlust Lady and the Door to Door Salesman - 26

January 27, 2013

 

Sunday dawned bright and warmish for the time of year. I knew from reading the poster that Lyme Park would be open for the Antiques Road Show from 10 a.m. until 5 p.m. But the sooner I got there, the better. Luckily, it didn't look like rain, but I put my small picture into a plastic bag and in my jacket pocket and set off as soon as I'd had my breakfast.

The walk was easy – and beautiful. The road was nearly empty of traffic, and it made me realise what a very attractive part of the world we live in around here. There were views of hills – probably the Pennines, I thought, going left, with a river flowing at the bottom. It was quite a high road – but then Marple is on the top of a hill already, so I didn't have too much climbing to do. I went by the Romper as mentioned by the lady in the shop after about half an hour. I thought it would be a good place to stop on the way home for a pint and a sandwich.

I followed the directions and although I never saw anything that might have been Wybersley Hall that the lady had talked about, I was soon in sight of Lyme Park, with its impressive Hall. There were lots of cars coming through the gates – so I knew that there was likely to be quite a queue – but I had nothing better to do with my day. It was another 15 minutes or so to get to the grounds of the Hall where the people were lined up. I was right about it being a popular place at the moment. I should think there were at least 200 people in front of me. I wished I'd brought a book or something with me to pass the time, but I would talk to the people in front or behind, and just take in this ancient place.

“How long have you been here?” I asked the woman in front. She had several bags with her.

“Only a few minutes. But the queue is hardly moving at all. I think we're here for a long wait.”

“Nice place this. I've never been here before, have you?”

“Oh, we come here often – not to the hall but to the park to walk our dog. I've been into the Hall once or twice – but these viewings will be out on the lawn at the back, since it's such nice weather. This place was used in the filming of Pride and Prejudice on TV, you know. That was in 1995, and was the supposed Pemberley – home of Mr. Darcy.”

“Oh, really. Maybe I did hear something about that. Has it been used for other films?”

“I heard that it was used for the Awakening last year, but most people still remember it for Colin Firth and his wet shirt.”

“Was this the actual place that Mr. Darcy lived?”

“No that was somewhere in Derbyshire – closer to Buxton – but this is such a good example of the architecture of the time – and with the long sweeping drive up to the Hall, it made for very good television. This place is quite famous as being a good example of 16^th century architecture.”

“So who lives here now?”

“Nobody. They sold it to the National Trust so they own it and do the upkeep on it. But I wrote a story about it once – well really it was about a man who kidnapped a young girl, but Lyme Hall was involved because she married the son of the man who lived here at the time.”

“I'd like to hear all about that. It's a good way of killing time while we're standing here.”

We had moved up a few places by then, but the queue still stretched a long way in front.

“I'll give you a potted story of the Hall first of all,” she said. “This land was granted to Sir Thomas Danyers in 1346 by Edward III for his service to the Black Prince in the Battle of Crecy. On his death, it went to his daughter Margaret, who married Piers Legh in 1388 – and it was in the hands of the Legh family from then on. Richard II was king by then, and he gave the family a coat of arms, but Piers was executed two years later by Henry Bolingbroke, he was Richard's rival for the throne.

“This house wasn't built until 1465 when the Legh in charge was Piers Legh the 7^th. The house is L shaped and nobody knows who did the original design, but it was added to in the 17^th and 18^th centuries. A famous architect called Giocomo Leoni from Venice added the courtyard plan and made other changes, but kept the Elizabeth features. His changes were in what is called the Palladian and Baroque styles. In the latter part of the 17^th century, Piers Legh the 13^th, bought most of the furniture that is still in the house today. In the 19^th Century it was owned by Thomas Legh, who is the man who lived in it during the time of the abduction of the girl who his son later married. He hired Lewis Wyatt to restore the house and remodelled every room, adding rooms for the servants in the tower like structure.”

“So when did it come into the hands of the National Trust?”

“In 1946. It was Richard Legh, 3^rd Baron Newton who gave it to them.”

We'd now reached the point in the queue where we could see details of the front entrance. There were lots of columns and a statue in a sort of alcove.

“That front entry was described by some famous architectural historical and 'the craziest Elizabethan front-piece.'”

“Does that mean he didn't think it was any good?”

“No, just not typical of Elizabeth stuff – and as it had been changed by Leoni in the 17^th century that isn't surprising. Those are Doric columns and the image in the pediment is that of Minerva.”

“How big is the Park?”

“About 15 acres in all I think. Most of it is a deer park, and there have been red deer here descended from the original ones in the 14^th century when the park was enclosed and there are also highland cattle here.

“The place where we probably will have our antiques looked at is called the Dutch Garden which was created by William Legh.”

“What's that tower over there?”

“It's called the Cage. It was built as a hunting lodge in about 1580, and later used as a keeper's cottage and as a lock up for prisoners. It has three floors. It was restored recently, but I haven't been inside it since then. There was talk about making it into a restaurant – but the problem would be access to it. You can only get to it by climbing that hill at the moment. We used to walk to it each time we came to the park with our dog – but that was before it was restored.”

We were about 25 people from being allowed into the showing area, so still time for the lady to tell me the story about the girl who was abducted.

“So tell me now about the abduction. Did they catch the person who did it?”

“Of course, and he was tried and spent a few years in prison. His name was Edward Gibbon Wakefield, and after his time in prison, he became famous for helping with the settling of New Zealand, and all sorts of other places. But that is another story. I will tell you briefly about Ellen Turner. She was an heiress, and her father was a mill owner. He had recently purchased Shrigley Hall, which is perhaps another five miles south of here, and at the time of the abduction, it was being altered. His daughter, who was about 15, was at school in Manchester. Edward Wakefield was deeply in debt and thought if he married her, he would get out of his financial difficulties. He had already been married once and had gone through his wife's fortune, but she'd died while still young, and he wanted more money. He and his brother devised a plan whereby he would go to Ellen's boarding school, with a letter purporting to be from her mother saying that she was needed immediately at home. And he, who had arrived in a coach, would transport her home to her family immediately.”

“It was very bad that the head teacher didn't check up on who he was.”

“The head of the school did think about it for awhile, but Edward Gibbon Wakefield was no doubt a very smooth talker, and the letter looked legitimate, so she allowed Ellen to accompany him. He then took her to Gretna Green where they were married.”

“She must have been very naïve.”

“He spun her the story that her father's business had collapsed and he wanted her to marry him (and he now was saying he was a colleague of her father's) to released her money to save her father's business. And she agreed. After the wedding, he took her to France, and it was there a few weeks later, that the police found her and brought her back home. They couldn't arrest Edward Gibbon Wakefield as they were in France and the authorities there were on his side. He hadn't apparently consumated the marriage. Some months later, Edward gave himself up (and his first court appearance was down the road at the pub in Disley) and his trial was well documented. He and his brother were both sentenced to prison, but his was the greater sentence, although reading about his experiences there, it was not really such a terrible experience for him, as he was rich enough to have his own quarters and wrote many letters from there – some of which helped to change the rules of the country of the time about trasnporting convicts for minor charges to Australia.”

We had now reached the head of the queue.

“Thank you for all those stories,” I told her. “And good luck with your items.”

“Thank you for listening,” she said, “and I hope you have luck too.”

She was shown onto the lawn, where various experts were sitting at tables under awnings – rather odd for February – but I suppose they were thinking that they would be some protection in case there was a sudden shower.

Now it was my turn. I was sent to a desk manned by several people.

A woman asked me, “What did you bring to show?”

“A picture.”

“Can I see it?”

So I took out the small water colour picture out of my pocket.

“Join that queue there,”she said. “That's Rupert Maas, one of our picture experts.”

I waited another 15 minutes or so, but eventually was seen by Mr. Maas, a tall, blond man, with a very posh way about him. I showed him my picture.

“That's very interesting. You see those initials.”

“Yes, I think it looks like JM.”

“There actually are three initials for John Miller Nicholson. He is a very prolific, much sought-after artist, born about 1840 and died about 1913. He didn't sell much in his lifetime – because he refused to paint to order. And he wasn't the most gifted of sales people, apparently and he was quite rude to potential buyers. Most of his work is from the Isle of Man, as this one is – from Douglas Harbour. The Manx Museum has much of his work now, but some is in private hands. This example, unfortunately, is rather foxed. You shouldn't just be carrying it around like this, you know.”

“I didn't have any idea that it was valuable.”

“Well, in this condition, I dare say it wouldn't be worth more than maybe £100. But if it was in its original frame, and if there were other similar ones so that you could sell a grouping – and if they were cleaned up, I dare four of them of this size might be worth a thousand, maybe more.”

“I do have others, and the frame I took this out of. How would I go about selling them?”

“Your best bet would be to sell them in the Isle of Man. Contact the museum there and they can give you details. Getting them cleaned won't be cheap – however. So if you sell them in their current condition, you would expect to get much less than that.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You're welcome, and thank you for bringing them in.”

I was thrilled with the success of my visit, and couldn't wait to get home and put my picture back into its frame and write to the Manx Museum. As I was leaving the grounds, I caught sight of the lady who had been in front of me, also seemingly through with her interviews.

“Hi again,” I said as I approached her.

“Hi. How did you get on?”

“My painting is by somebody famous and worth quite a lot, so I'm dead chuffed. What about you?”

“Not so good really. My Worcester dishes they said were pretty much worthless. And the diary from 1851 which was the thing I really wanted them to see, interested my expert, who was Lars Tharp, and he was very nice to me, and spent a long time with me. He liked the diary, and went over to the book expert to see if it was worth putting on the show, but apparently not, as the diarist wasn't somebody famous. He said it wasn't worth very much – maybe £100 at the most. But I wouldn't sell it anyway. I just wanted to have an expert see it and give his opinion. I think my time was well spent.”

“So we both go away happy.”

We parted then, and I made my way quickly back through the park, appreciating the Cage, and the deer much more on the way out than I had when I had walked by them before.