Originally published 8/25/16
I thought Americans were ostentatious. We have nothing on 16th century noble Englishmen. And not just that century. The ostentatious-ness and wild spending of money for showmanship continued for generations; and if one generation ran out of it, they married someone who had some, and used all of her money. Or they let the house sit to ruin until a generation came along that had money (likely from someone they married) who then had to repair the damage done by abandonment.
Until, just like on Downton Abbey, they have to consider allowing commoners like us to pay money to come and see how the gentry live. It is terribly debasing, if you're a Marquess, but if you want to keep the home, or if your ancestors have set in law that you must keep the home - and live in it - you have no choice.
And so we went to Burghley House.
Burghley House was built by William Cecil (1520-1598), the first Lord Burghley. He was the Lord High Treasurer and Chief Minister to Queen Elizabeth 1. The wall in the foreground is called a Ha-Ha. It's an optical illusion that, from the other side, protects the home from deer and other wild animals.
I understand the need to be hospitable and impress people, but there is a manner in which it can be taken too far! Do you really need 400 works of art, for which you have to break up the great hall and divide it into rooms so you can have enough wall space to hang it all?
That's Michael in the Pagoda room, cursing the portrait of Oliver Cromwell. Cromwell is much cursed in England, as he beheaded King Charles the First and announced himself Lord Protector. Then he went about to abolish churches and estates and such. Instead of fighting, the lady of Burghley met him at the gate and invited him in, thus sparing Burghley. She had to endure his presence for a month. He later sent his portrait, top right in the photo above, as a kind but omnipotent reminder of his stay there. He died, and England returned to a monarchy. It's just easiest to do what we know, isn't it?
And when the Queen comes to stay, you must have appropriate accommodations.
In the wing we toured there were 5 bedrooms just like this to the left, but in different color schemes. Many of the textiles are original. All of the furniture is original. Not sure about the mattresses, though.
Just like the the 1980s came along and my mom replaced the avocado green shag carpet with peachy pile carpet and covered the walls with pink and green hydrangea-covered wallpaper, each generation has also left their mark on this home. The 5th Earl left an astonishing mark by employing Antonio Verrio for 10 years to paint murals on the ceilings. And I can't even articulate the over-the-top-ness of these ceilings.
The first, in the Heaven room, below right, depicts the Greek gods trying to prevent a murder.
The mural goes down from the ceiling to each of three walls as well. I'm not sure why it's called the Heaven room.
But, before you get to Heaven, you have to go through hell. Hell's staircase, that is.
Below left is the ceiling part of hell. It also covers three walls. That's a cat, as the mouth of hell, and all around it are people suffering from the seven deadly sins. I mean, who thinks of this stuff? And why do you want it on the ceiling in your stairwell?
Don't get me wrong. I am glad these houses exist, and that the families have opened them to the public as a way of preserving them. And I'm glad they have art. I like art. We have art. Our house guests this summer complimented us (I think) on our eclectic art collection. We even have a mural. (You remember, Jesus on the fence, our own version of Heaven on the Cumberland Plateau.)
So here I am, once again, contemplating home. In the 1950s, the Cecil family finally decided to put the house in trust, open it to the public, but require that a family member always live in the house as well. So it is a private home. They of course don't live in the portion the public traipses through, but the docent told us they do play pool in the billiard room, and use much of the house in the off-season.
It is an extraordinary legacy, and an extraordinary sense of home to live in a house that has been in your family for 600 years. I can also imagine it's an extraordinary burden. What if you don't want to live in Stamford, UK? What if your children aren't interested in continuing the legacy? What if you don't want to look at hell every time you go upstairs?
In America, we move a lot. There's an infamous family in Greenville that has moved 4 times on the same street. We paint over things. We move things. We put old, broken furniture on the street. We tire of things, and so we give them away.
For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. 2 Cor. 5:1
We all live differently. Some of us are lucky - or burdened - to live in English manors that they can share with the public. Some of us live in University Housing. Some of us live in strange countries for a time. Some of us live in suburban neighborhoods. And some even live in hip, downtown condos.
What I think is important to remember, is that we live in the house of God. We work for a living and take care of our homes, but our lives here are held in the hand of God, not the cradle of a good mattress. Our earthly homes are important to our consciousness, but our spiritual home is imperative to eternal life. Sometimes it's difficult to divide the two, and keep each in perspective.
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