Flying visits

Well, we are off again.

I will be away from my blog for two to three weeks.

We are visiting Melbourne because AGA's father is gravely ill.  He has been ill for a few months and while he is a strong man both physically and mentally, we are told that there is little hope.  He has been given one year at the most.

Of course such predicitions are just that: Predictions.  No one can really know the length of another person's days, and as a colleague of mine pointed out only yesterday, the condition all each of us is 'terminal', from the day we are born.

So we are going back to see AGA's Father; to be with him; and to spend time in his company.

It is at times like these that the tyranny of distance comes into it's own.  Even in these days of e-mail, and skype, and all the other niceties of 21st Century life that have made instant gratification a by-word for modern living; there is nothing like being 'there' - rather than doing so vicariously from 'here' via a length of fibre optic cable and a satellite...

On the bright side, we will also be there for my Mother's birthday - the first time in ten years that this has been possible, and we will be in Melbourne, which is always a nice place to be.

So I will say adieu for the moment, and we will be back in early November.

In the meantime, I have left you a couple of glasses of cider, and a 'Homes and Antiques' magazine for you to enjoy yourself with:

Oh, and there is also a copy of 'Daggers in the Forum' by Keith Richardson if you are interested . . .

It was his fault.

I was supposed to put this post on my blog yesterday but AGA was watching the movie 'Julie and Julia' and I got 'hypnotised' - before I knew it it was time to go to sleep and I was nowhere near finishing my post!

So anyway, there we were . . .

(In Paris)

Paying a visit to a local flea market, when I saw him sitting forlornly on a table: Dirty, uncared for, in a frame that had seen better days.  A sad reflection of his once glorious past.

I couldn't walk passed and not rescue him!  

So I did.  

He cost me 1 euro.

I was excited although AGA had his doubts.

I knew I could smarten him up and give him back his dignity.

Once we were back home I got to work.  I cleaned up the frame and repainted it in gold.  I replaced the backing board, cleaned the glass, and gently cleaned the image itself.  

I didn't think to take a 'before' photograph but here he is restored:

When he had his photograph taken, he clearly wanted to look his best.  He is wearing his dress uniform and his medals.  I guess this is his 'best side'.  

And he wrote a very nice 'with love' message at the bottom and signed it.  

He never thought that many years later he would up for sale at a Parisian Flea Market, for the bargain price of 1 euro!

Many thoughts enter my mind when I look at this photograph.

I wonder when it was taken.  

I wonder what the occasion was, the name of the sitter, and what his life was like.  His signature is a somewhat difficult to decipher, but his medals and sash seem to indicate that he was someone of no small importance in the French military establishment.  

I didn't realise it at the time but he was to become my first photographic refugee: the doyen of my future collection.

Number two arrived about a year later.  

We were in Sorrento and strolled inside a somewhat gloomy second hand shop (as one does) for a look around.  

This one lay on a table.  

Postcard sized. 

Covered in a thin film of dust.  

I looked at the chap in the photo: He was standing there with one hand behind his back, the other resting on a pot stand or some such thing.  I wondered what made him decide to have his photograph taken on that particular day... 

I presume that the photograph was taken in the Edwardian period and the subject appears to be wearing galoshes - an odd thing to wear when having your photo taken.  Perhaps he was out with friends and they decided, on the spur of the moment, to have some photos taken of themselves and made into postcards.

I told AGA I was going to buy it.  It cost 1 euro too!  My second photographic refugee had found a home:

After that I seemed to be seeing old photographs all over the place.  Some were inexpensive.  Some were very expensive!  I bought one or two and began to keep them in a box: The plan being to frame some and place others in an old album.

That was about three years ago and my collection is slowly growing.  My reasons for collecting are not 'just for the sake of it' but because I am very interested in social history and these pictures are windows in to a past that is long gone.  I also like to see if I can find out about the photographers themselves as they are the artists who 'pulled it all together' to create the finished product...

Please allow me to share some of my collection with you.  Perhaps you collect old photographs too!

This one was taken at the Martin Balg Studio.  Martin Balg was a famous 'Hof-Fotograf' (Court Photographer) in Berlin, during the late Victorian, and Edwardian period.  

The subject of this photograph has had her hair 'done' especially for the event:

The background is more natural than in the previous photograph.  One seems to be in an elegant drawing room.  There is some sort of 'arty' magazine laid out on an upholstered bench, and the subject holds  a slim bunch of what I take to be Narcissi.  She has a rather nice wrist watch on, as well as one of those old bar brooches on her dress. 

I wonder what thoughts passed through her mind as she stood there waiting to be 'snapped'?

On the back of the photograph is Herr Balg's advertisement:

He states that his artistic photographs are all taken using modern methods.  He is clearly making a lot of money and has a telephone number for clients to use when wanting to contact him!

The next photograph has a more sombre background.  It was taken at the Wertheim Department Store, situated on the Leipzigerstrasse in Berlin.  Wikipedia tells me that this Department store was the Berlin equivalent of Harrods in London and Galleries Lafayette in Paris.

I wonder who this young couple are.  I presume they are married as she is wearing what I take to be a wedding ring.  He is wearing a frock coat and has his hands behind his back: The pose of a successful man.  I wonder what he does for a living?

Her hands meanwhile are folded demurely in front but I see a determined face and an inquiring, somewhat imperious look.

This photograph of a little boy in boater hat and eton collar was taken at the Atelier Wesseman, at Bahnhofstrasse, Cassel (also known as Kassel).  They have made him wear a large polkadot bow, and have given him a hoop to pose with.  The background is set up to make it look as though he is standing on the terrace of some large country or town house.   One hand rest on his hip.  There is a resigned look about him as if he does not enjoy this 'garb' but is putting up with it while his photograph is taken:

Now to my mind, this lady is a school teacher, with her sensible hair, her glasses and her somewhat dour attire.  She has an interesting brooch on her blouse, which looks to be in the shape of two conker (horse-chestnut) cases.  She had her photograph taken at the studio situated in the Oberpollinger Department Store (opened 1905) in Munich:

Meanwhile, when this young chap decided to have his photo taken, he chose the 'power' look: arms folded defiantly and legs crossed. 

He gazes at us with a somewhat superior air:

The artist of choice was the Bavarian Court Photographer, Franz Xaver Limbrunner, who had a studio in the town of Straubing.  I do like his advertisement on the back of the photograph: 

Now this chap is wearing his gloves, cap, outdoor coat, pinz nez glasses and a very severe look... 

He decided to have his photograph taken with his stick in his hand as if he were just about to go out.  His legs are crossed and there is an air of impatience about him. It is as if he is saying 'get on with it - I haven't got all day!'  

N. Raschkow Jr. took the photo.  You could find him on the 1st floor of No. 4, Ohlauerstrasse, Breslau (now Wroclav, in Poland). I think Herr Raschkow's charges are fairly pricey as he states that he is Court Photographer to the Dukes of Saxe-Meiningen, the Grand Dukes of Hesse, Prince Georg of Prussia, and Princess Louise of Prussia as well!

This is Max de Pausinger in the year 1877.  I don't think that he is very old in this photo and I am wondering if he is related to Franz Xaver and Clemens von Pausinger - two fairly well known artists of the period.  His pins-nez give him a scholarly air and he has an interesting hairstyle. He has had his photograph taken while wearing his overcoat:

The photographer was taken by J. Albert of Munich who states that he won an honourary diploma at the Vienna World Exhibition of 1873. He proclaims that he too is a Court Photographer:  to the Courts of Bavaria and of 'Imperial Russia'.

The next subject also decided to wear his overcoat when having his photograph taken.  

It is interesting to see the clothes people wore when deciding to have their photo taken: The clothes they thought would show them off to their best advantage.  When this man (I can't read his name) made that choice he decided upon his overcoat with the thick fur collar.  His very curly hair gives him a gipsy-ish air...

I think he may also have a faint moustache but I am not sure.  Did he fancy himself as a bit of a ladies' man?  Residing in Leipzig, he chose the photographers Eulenstein.  They are to be found at the corner of Tauchaer Strasse 29, opposite the Clubhouse. They have a nice advertisement on the back of the photo too:

To date, most of the photographs I have collected are German, however I do have lots of others, including the next one, which is among my favourites.  

It was taken by the famous photographer, Henri Claudet (1829-1880) of 107 Regent Street, London.  The subject is posed with one finger touching her cheek.  In her other hand she holds a flower.  The scalloped sleeves of her dress are fab and give it a somewhat medieval flavour.  The whole effect is very theatrical and I wonder what the rest of her dress was like. 

We have be moving slowly back in time and here we are in the 1860s:

Anna (I can't read the rest of her name - perhaps you can) had her photograph taken by J. Ebehardt in Mergentheim, a famous spa town in Baden-Wurttemburg.  She stands rather stiff and formal, with one hand on a table containing a vase of flowers.  Perhaps this was her very first time having a photograph taken.  I do like the fact that someone has coloured in the flowers she holds in her hand: 

 

My final example also comes from the 1860s.  It was taken in Celle (northern Germany) by a photographer named E. Glier.  The subject (an older woman) is seated in an ornate chair and looks up inquiringly, a closed book in her lap.  She wears a bonnet typical of the period and I think that her dress is tafetta. I wonder what the book was:

I enjoy collecting old photographs - they provide a small window into the lives of people who lived long ago, captured in a moment.

I hope that you enjoyed this post!

Autumnal Splendours

Very gradually, Autumn is making his presence felt here in Kaiserswerth.

The acorns have grown and are slowly being consumed by the squirrels and jays.  Leaves are starting to turn yellow and there are pumpkins for sale all over the place!  Yesterday I saw white pumpkins for sale at our local florist which means that the Tone on Tone style has reached even this part of the world!
The swallows have packed up and left; and the geese are starting to fly south.

These are all signs that Autumn is approaching,
but for me,
nothing heralds Autumn's arrival more than the appearance of the beloved chrysanthemum.
My grandfathers and my father grew these lovely flowers.  They were such a part of my life that to me they were somewhat commonplace and hardly worth thinking about!

But then I met the wonderful Henri Fantin-Latour:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Henri_Fantin-Latour_autoportrait.jpg

Ignace Henri Jean Théodore Fantin-Latour (know as Henri) was a consummate painter of flowers in domestic settings.
His images of the chrysanthemum took me by surprise.  He made them look ethereal and gave them a beauty that I had previously not noticed.  Just look at this:

http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/henri-fantin-latour/chrysanthemums-1879

Isn't it beautiful?
Henri completely changed my point of view, and I went from passing by chrysanthemums without so much as how-do-you-do, to gazing at them with the light of love in my eye.

The tones and texture of the flowers, in their various hues, seem to me to embody all that Autumn is.

The Chinese philosopher known in English as Confucius, apparently liked chrysanthemums and wrote about them around the year 500BC.

In Japan the chrysanthemum was a highly valued plant: The Emperors took it as their personal emblem and as early as the 9th Century garden parties were held to celebrate the flowering of the chrysanthemum (known as the kiku) and following Chinese tradition, it was named as one of the Sikunshi, or four floral gentlemen, (representatives of the four Seasons). chrysanthemum season was of course Autumn.

Here is the Imperial Seal of Japan.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Imperial_Seal_of_Japan.svg

In Australia, the chrysanthemum has come to symbolize Mother's Day which in that country occurs in Autumn.  A friend of mine told me that for many Italians the flower represents death and they won't have it in the house.

(This is interesting because in my family that role was held by the lilac.  As a child I once picked a lilac to take to my Grandmother but was swiftly propelled outside again, and the symbolism explained to me, before GG (as my grandmother was known) caught sight of my 'gift'.  Even today I could not have lilac inside the house although I enjoy its scent.)

I don't know when the chrysanthemum began to migrate outside of its ancestral homelands. I looked in various books but could not find the answer.  Apparently it was named chrysanthemum (Golden Flower) in the sixteenth century so I guess it was in Europe, or at least known to Europeans, by that stage.

http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/henri-fantin-latour/large-bouquet-of-chrysanthemums-1882

Melbourne (my adopted city) was founded in 1835.  Twenty years later and advice was being given in the local newspaper on how to grow chrysanthemums.  A true immigrant flower, it is now a citizen of the world, to be found in just about every part of the globe.  These days when you open a plant catalogue you will find them for sale and they are so common that no one in the western world seems to give them much notice.  They are almost as the grass beneath our feet.  We buy then in small pots and when they have finished flowering we discard them, or put them somewhere (such as behind the potting shed) where they die from lack of care and attention.  A nice thank you for the pleasure they have given us!

Daisy-like, or a cluster of petals.  Pom poms, doubles, singles.  chrysanthemums come in a variety of shapes and sizes.  I read in my edition of 'The Flowers and Gardens of Japan' by Florence Du Cane, that the Japanese had at least 150 different types, all with appropriately poetic names:

Nihon Ichi (First in Japan)

Natsu-gumo (Summer Clouds)

Haruna Kasumi (Spring Haze)

Tsuki-no-tomo (Companions of the Moon)

Ake-no-sora (Sky at Dawn)

Asa hi no nami (Waves in the Morning Sun)

http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/search/Henri%20Fantin-Latour

Here in our bijou residence, we have a 1788 edition of 'Every Man His Own Gardener'.   The original owner of the book, who often pencilled in notes and crosses to denote favourite flowers, left the chrysanthemums unmarked: I felt offended!  Why did he like the 'Tangier Pea', the 'Rose Lupin' and the 'Double Sunflower', but not the chrysanthemum?

It might have been because the plant was very hard to grow.  Japan (where the Imperial gardeners were having great success) was still a closed country, and no one in Europe had been able to produce a fertile seed.

I checked to see what the author (John Abercrombie) had to say and I was somewhat disappointed. He tells us all about growing them and looking after them but the varieties to be had are few and somewhat boorishly named:

Double Yellow

Double White

Double Quilled

Nathaniel Paterson waxes lyrical about the carnation but makes no mention of 'our' flower.

Things began to change for the chrysanthemum in the mid 19th Century.  Those Imperial Gardeners' closely guarded secrets became more widely known and soon everyone was growing them.  In 1846 the National Chrysanthemum Society was founded in England and its popularity grew until Henri Fantin-Latour, seeing their beauty and elegance began to paint them:

http://www.wikipaintings.org/en/henri-fantin-latour/flowers-chrysanthemums-1876#supersized-artistPaintings-209025

So there you are: the chrysanthemum.  A special flower for this special time of year.

And now, in the tradition of Japanese chrysanthemum viewing, here are some photographs of the chrysanthemums that we are growing on our balcony this Autumn:

Simple, daisy-like blooms:

An interesting petal shape:

One of my favourites:

Chrysanthemum: the golden flower.  How could one not love such golden perfection:

White petals:

Some of our chrysanthemums, en masse, with some friendly roses and a little heather plant:

I hope you enjoyed this post!

a lazy Sunday afternoon

It has been a very pleasant weekend.

I phoned my nephew yesterday as it was his birthday.  He has just turned fourteen and is heavily in to sport.  He is never happier than when kicking a football about.  Sport was never my thing really, except in a purely armchair capacity...

And speaking of armchairs, this Sunday afternoon I have spent quite a lot of time reclining in one!

It has been a particularly sunny day:

. . . and I have been feeling particularly lazy: sitting idly in one of my favourite chairs, with the sun shining upon me . . .

. . . and what's more I have had a nap - which is always a nice thing to do.

(My father called taking a nap 'resting the great brain'.)

It is a delicious feeling to be sitting in a comfortable position, in a comfortable armchair, and suddenly becoming aware that one is starting to drift -  to 'nod off'.
At that moment one has two options: shake it off or succumb.  This afternoon I chose to allow Morpheus to have his way with me - and half an hour later awoke feeling revived, refreshed and just in time for a cup of tea!

Actually I was slightly late, because as everyone knows, everything stops for tea at 4 o'clock, not 4:14!

And where there are cups of tea, there must also be cake.

I think I may have made mention of a wonderful cake/tart I had, at a little cafe in the old town of Barcelona last June.  At the time I was determined to find out what the name of that heavenly creation was, and more importantly, how to make it.  

I soon ascertained that it is called Tarta de Santiago.  

The next thing thing was to find out how to make it.  

There were all sorts of variations to be found on the Internet, but checking through my recipe box I found that I had had the foresight to cut out a particularly nice sounding version found in a fabulous magazine I subscribe to: Australian Gourmet Traveller.  

And so this weekend I made it (complete with the Cross of Santiago stencilled on top in icing sugar:

I know it is bragging but I must point out that the result was a complete success!  Basically a short crust pastry shell filled with an lemon scented almond mixture, it is very easily made (and very easily eaten too!)

And so there I sat, enjoying the afternoon.

I was sublimely content.

I also knew that something wonderful for dinner was slow cooking in the oven, courtesy of AGA:

 There was lovely music playing:

And all was right with the world.

And that's it . . .

Sometimes there is nothing nicer than a lazy afternoon at home!  Don't you agree?

Dreams broken, and dashed asunder!

Far away, on the Leicestershire/Northamptonshire borders, far away from roads and indeed, any hint of the 21st Century, you might (if you are lucky) come across this green, tree-lined lane:

  

This lane is not made for striding along in stout walking books.
A gentle amble is all that is required.
At the end of the lane is, what appears at first to be, a stream:

Closer inspection reveals it to be a moat of sorts, surrounding a greenish hill: no castle is to be seen, but it is definitely manmade.

Is this some sort of fairyland?

To some extent the answer is 'yes' and this is only reinforced as one leaves the moat behind and strolls past a meadow filled with wild flowers:

One feels a part of nature - but is it really?  Is this nature in the raw - or an idyll?  A tamed and civilised nature - a heavenly nature?

There is certainly enchantment here...

Suddenly, one notices a relatively ordinary looking, old house which is only made extraordinary by the fact that it is seemingly sitting in the middle of nowhere. . .
Do these fields; the green and pleasant lane; the moat, all belong to this fairly ordinary house?
(And who lives in there?)

But all thoughts of the house and it's occupants are forgotten when one notices what is standing behind it: A palace worthy of a fairytale!!
Lyveden New Build - a place of dreams broken and dashed asunder.

Lyveden New Build (or as the National Trust puts it 'Lyveden New Bield')

Lyveden looks like  a house in ruins but in fact it is a structure 'frozen' in mid construction.

It may look like a grand house but in truth it is 'only' a lodge; conceived and built by Sir Thomas Tresham.  

It was called New Build to distinguish it from the old Lyveden, the family home of the Treshams.  

The New Build was designed as a place to retire to from the hurly burly of life on a large sheep farming estate.  It would be to this spot that Sir Thomas, his family and intimate friends could retire and be away from it all.

Sir Thomas Tresham was a fashionable, socially well-contacted, Elizabethan courtier from a wealthy family.  

Old money. 

Old religion.  

In this new Protestant kingdom, Thomas and those like him stood out for their Catholic adherence. At first a Catholic who outwardly conformed to the new order of things, he suddenly rebelled and began refusing to go to the Protestant Church services.  The Government were used to this sort of thing and had the perfect remedy: Lengthy Prison terms and heavy fines.  This was to be Thomas' lot in life.  The chains that would eventually overcome his dreams.

The application of those fines would gradually meant an ever increasing dint in his wealth; but at first Thomas was able to absorb such losses.  Sheep farming was his major source of wealth.  Wool production provided him with a steady income. But Sir Thomas's purse was not bottomless and eventually those fines, combined with a very generous lifestyle,  and a total of fifteen years in prison  - at his own expense - had the effect of slowly beggering the once wealthy family.  But that was in the future.  We are at Lyveden, begun when Sir Thomas was feeling more financially secure...

The front door at Lyveden

When Sir Thomas set his hand to something, he seems to have given it his all.  He had already dabbled in design, having draw up plans for the triangular-shaped Rushton Lodge (in the same County).  That building had been constructed based upon certain principals which Sir Thomas expanded upon with Lyveden.  

It was a slow process and by 1605 the stonework of the basement, the ground and the first floors of Lyveden were all constructed.  The materials for the second floor had been collected and . . .

But there was no more 'and'.  

Sir Thomas died.

His son and heir Francis was suddenly caught up in the gunpowder plot, dying 'mysteriously' in prison in the same year.

Everything fell in a heap.

Thomas had had to provide wedding dowries for his six daughters.  This together with the huge fines imposed upon him by the government meant that he died with his estate in significant debt.

The disgrace and death of his heir, leaving a child to inherit the impoverished lands meant that at that moment there was no money to pay the workmen, and there was unlikely to be any for some time to come.  Their response was to cut their losses, pick up their tools, and leave.

And that, for the most part, was that.

Lyveden New Build remained trapped.

Unfinished.

Any interior wooden structures have either rotted away or were carted off for other purposes and apart from a minor incident in the Civil War that could have led to it's destruction but didn't, Lyveden has stood frozen in time.   The building was sturdy, well constructed and able to withstand the elements, even in its unfinished state.

And thus it remains until this day

(Which is nice actually because it is now owned by the National Trust and you can visit it yourself!)

This is a photo of some interior carves stone ceiling work.  It is a typical late Renaissance pattern, similar to that which can be seen at Burghley, home of Sir Thomas' political enemy (and Elizabeth's chief councillor, William Cecil):

I took this photo at Burghley House but forgot to 'picmonkey' it 

But why visit?  Why did I make the journey to go and see it?

It 'appears' to be a half-finished lodge, standing in the middle of a field but there is oh so much more to Lyveden than that!

Symbolism was very fashionable in the Elizabeth era.  

Hidden meanings: It was a very Renaissance 'thing'.

Almost everything could stand for something else and entire books were composed on the subject.   Secret codes.  Secret messages.  The Renaissance mind love it!  

The colours you wore; the jewellery and embroidery with which you adorned yourself; the statuary; the carvings on your house; the very flowers you chose to have in your garden:  All were ways of making a statement without actually being seen to make one.

Take for example this famous portrait of Queen Elizabeth I:  The so-called Rainbow Portrait:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Elizabeth_I_Rainbow_Portrait.jpg

Eyes, ears, a rainbow, pearls: the painting is adorned with symbolism.  Sometimes we think we know what the symbols mean but we could well be quite wrong.  Sometimes we have no idea what the 'message' is.

Lyveden is building full of symbolism

Sir Thomas conceived the idea of Lyveden Lodge after his volte face on the issue of his outward conformation to Government diktats.  The lodge was to be a symbol of his return to his Catholic roots in the face of increased government persecution. It would proclaim to one and all where his sympathies lay.

As you can see from this aerial view, Lyveden was built in the form of a Greek Cross:

http://www.northamptonshiretouristguide.com/Articles/Article_57.asp

A Greek Cross has four arms of equal length, and this is the basic layout of the building.  This meant that the building could consist of five equal squares of which you will read more later.

Sir Thomas then directed that certain symbols were to be carved on the outer surfaces of Lyveden.  These symbols were to not only make a statement about the owner but were to illustrates the mystical nature of the building.

Here are some examples:

In the main photo below is the Chi Rho sign. Top right is Our Lord's robe and the dice that the guards used for gambling to see who would get the robe after He died.  The lower right photographs shows some of the letters carved into the stonework.  In the bottom right is part of the Latin inscription that ran around the first floor.  It consists of various statements in Latin, taken from the Bible.  This part reads in full (and I have highlighted in red the part you can see) : 

J E S U S. B E A T U S. J V E N T E R. Q V I. T E. P O R T A V I T.  

In English: Jesus, Blessed is the womb that bore thee.

In this second collage you have: Main photograph, the sacred IHS (which can mean Iesus Hominum Salvator (Jesus Saviour of the World) or In Hoc Signo (In this sign you will conquer).  It was also the symbol for the Order of Jesuits (the bête noire of the English Government).  The upper right shows the ChiRho sign again, plus a bag symbolising the money paid to Judas for betraying Jesus. The thirty silver coins are carved as a ring around the bag.  The middle photograph shows the instruments of torture used on Jesus.  The bottom photo shows more of the same.

All these symbols refer to suffering, the overcoming of suffering, and the persecution the government was carrying out against those who maintained the 'old religion', people like Sir Thomas.  No wonder he was a government target!


Sir Thomas was a very clever man and even from his prison cell he directed his building operations.  He used special numbers when designing Lyveden: Three to represent the Holy Trinity; Five to represent the Five Wounds of Christ, and Seven to represent the seven instruments of the Crucifixion.
Here is a quote from the National Trust Guide Book:
"The plan of New Build consists of five equal squares.  Each arm of the Cross ends in a bay with five sides, each measuring five feet, making a total of twenty-five feet.  This is no accident - the 25th is the date both of the Nativity (December) and the Annunciation (March)...
"The lodge is on three floors (but the second floor was never built)  . . . Outside, sets of three shields are divided by three windows, diamonds are grouped in threes and the measurement from one side of the building to the other is 243 feet - three x three x three x three x three.
I find these sorts of things both fascinating and very clever.


The audio guide told me that this niche probably held the Statue of Our Lady owned by Sir Thomas's wife (and usually hidden from the government who would have destroyed it).
In those days, after the death of her husband and son, (and the wooden floor and rudimentary ceiling still existed) she sometimes came here with a few select followers to meditate and pray:

Tourists throughout the ages have visited Lyveden and some have left their mark:

The interior gives us hints as the plans Sir Thomas had for the finished product.  What a wonderful place it would have been!

One sees everything from the basement level because of course there is no flooring although the holes for the joists still exist.  In one part of the complex however, one can mount a platform and look out of the upper floor windows, across the fields. In Sir Thomas' days these fields were home to his extensive herds of sheep:

Lyveden is not a big place.  A visit, even with an audio guide, doesn't take much time. Indeed many people come and go within half an hour!

The building is undoubtably beautiful.  The stone turns almost honey-coloured in the afternoon light, and the very green grass at this time of year only goes to accentuate this beauty:

But beauty is not the real reason for visiting Lyveden.  Nor is the fact that you can tick off (on your list) another National Trust property visited.

Rather, the reason for visiting Lyveden is to be found in the site itself, the atmosphere, and the spirit of the man who built it.
These are the things that drew me to visit this unfinished diamond.  I find that there is a sense of dignified sadness about the place.
What dreams Sir Thomas must have had when first he conceived of building this 'little' lodge for himself.

I hope you enjoyed this little tour.  If you have not been there already, I recommend you hot-foot it there as soon as possible!