We walked down to the lake over the vast expanse of dry yellow grass, avoiding as best we could the droppings of sheep and geese and at a certain point I turned and looked at the west front of the great house and surprised myself by saying, "You know, It's actually very ugly".
On reflection, "ugly" may be going too far. "Nondescript" would be more accurate. Petworth House presents a long unbroken facade- like a posh London terrace that has been incongruously plonked down in a field. It's grand, it's gray, it's depressing. Maybe I was still thinking of things we'd been told about previous owners; how one couldn't abide the smell of cooking and moved the kitchens to a separate building, how another (or perhaps the same one) put in tunnels for servants to use because he didn't want to have to see them. Henry VIII- on a visit to the manor house that preceded the present building-had enclosed the surrounding common land for his own especial use and the house's lord had liked this arrangement so much he'd kept it. The walls surrounding the property are high. The peasantry are not only being kept out but being denied even a glimpse of the land that used to be theirs.
The art collections are stupendous- and hung in the 19th century style which means much of the work is hung so high, in the shadows of the roof, as to be virtually invisible. The statues are a mix of Roman pieces that hve been stuck back together with glue and 19th century classical pieces that ape them and are mostly bland and silly. All but a few of the paintings have been soused in decades worth of cigar smoke and are in desparate need of cleaning. The choicest pieces are a version of Hieronymus Bosch's Visitation of the Magi which is good enough to be by the hand of the master and a version of Holbein's Henry VIII which is also very fine. Henry is encased in woodwork by Grinling Gibbons over the fireplace in the house's grandest room.
How very appropriate that the presiding spirit of this gruesome place should be the King of Thieves....
Down by the lake a gosling took a fancy to us and asked if we had food. Ailz carries doggy treats- and the gosling gave them a go but spat them out. Too dry, too hard, I suppose. Nothing discouraged it followed us halfway back to the house going "peep, peep, peep." I fantasised about tucking it under my jacket and smuggling it out.....
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