More on Knole, part 3

A few more thoughts on Knole.

In some ways Knole was our favorite of the houses we visited. The Royal Pavilion was fantastic, but it was "modern" in comparison to Knole and it had never been truly a home. Leeds Castle was beautiful, but it had been changed so it no longer struck us as authentic. Even Mr. M found this annoying, but then I had to ask myself why shouldn't someone redo their house? We've certainly done a thing or two to improve the MacKenzie hut. However, when you live in a historic place...when is it just your house and when is it a national treasure? (I should point out that a good bit of Knole is not open to the public and is probably much more "comfortable" than the parts we saw.) Hmm. The "historic designation" discussion--or battle--is alive here in my neck of the woods as well.

Knole is full of stuff that makes a historical romance novelist's heart beat faster. Because it's so large, many rooms were only used occasionally, so much of the house, including the furniture, looks like it would have in the 18th century. I tried to absorb as many details as I could--and of course I bought the guidebook.

I knew servants in big houses would get perks; for example, the maid might get her mistress's casts off. I didn't realize that earls and dukes could get perks, too. Many of the furniture pieces at Knole are royal castoffs, given away when the king wanted to redecorate or thought the things were out of fashion or a little shabby.

I'd seen pictures of Knole's Cartoon Gallery, which always caused me to scratch my head. Er, cartoons? Where? LOL. My modern uneducated mind at work again. A cartoon is...well, I'm just going to quote my Oxford English Dictionary: "A drawing on stout paper, made as a design for a painting of the same size to be executed in fresco or oil, or for a work in tapestry, mosaic, stained glass, or the like." While we were there, one of the docents was showing the others that the best way to view the cartoons was in a mirror, since they are actually the mirror image of the final artwork.

Well, it was a great place to visit--and now I have the guidebook to peruse. Maybe I'll also read Virginia Wolf's Orlando, which is based heavily on Knole.

More on Knole, part 2

We couldn't take pictures inside the house, alas, so no photos here.

One thing I found fascinating about Knole is that it's been in the same family since 1603 and is still the family's home. That kind of history boggles my American mind. What would it be like to grow up in the house your father and his father and his father and his father etc, etc, grew up in?

I still live in the area where I was born, but I'm only a first generation Washingtonian. (Or should I say District of Columbian to distinguish us from the Washingtonians on the West Coast?) My folks are from the Midwest. I don't know my extended family well, and I'm more than a little fuzzy on my grandparents' and great grandparents' histories. One grandfather was born in Ireland; I think all my great grandparents were from Ireland or England, but I'm not sure. I've never been to Ireland.

When my dad died in February and I had to empty out his apartment, everything came to my house. Some of the things have since gone off to kids, charity, or the dump, but some qualify as heirlooms of a sort. I wish I remembered their significance. I'm sure my parents--or at least my mom--told me the stories--whom they belonged to, where they came from. I just can't remember.

I've already asked my mother-in-law to write everything down.

More on Knole, part 1

The picture above is not of a town—it’s of a single house: Knole in Sevenoaks, Kent.

Knole was our first destination outside London. We took the Tube to Charing Cross Station and caught a train for the roughly half hour ride to Sevenoaks. If there was signage in the train station pointing us toward Knole, we missed it, so we wandered around Sevenoaks until we finally found a visitor’s center (or centre, as it would be spelled there) and got directions to the main entrance. It wasn't until we were leaving that we found the footpath I’d been looking for when we arrived.

Nice, yes? From here we would have gone up through the medieval deer park to the house.

Fallow and Sika deer roam the grounds—I’m not sure which kind these are—or perhaps there are some of both.

We arrived before the house was open to visitors, so we walked around the wall that encloses the grounds.

Mr. M is 6’3” (when he stands up straight) so you can see the wall is formidable—and the doorways are sometimes short.

What wasn’t enclosed by the wall was protected by a beautiful fence.

And here’s the entrance—note the blue speck (moi).

Once inside the entrance, you’re in the Green Court.

From the Green Court, you pass through the Inner Wicket (again, I’m a blue speck)

to the Stone Court (this is the other side of the Inner Wicket taken from the Stone Court)

and the entrance to the Great Hall.

I hope I got that all correct—I’m working from my feeble memory and the map in the guide book I (thankfully) purchased.

Out to the country

Today we took the train out of London to Sevenoaks and Knole, the amazing home of Lord Sackville. (And, yes, the family still lives there, though I believe the house is now owned by the National Trust. It is surrounded by a deer park with two kinds of deer, though we either didn't see both kinds or couldn't distinquish between them. We enjoyed walking around the grounds until the house opened at noon.

I've only included one picture here, but I hope to load more onto my Facebook fan page when I have time. To give you a sense of scale, I'm the little blue speck standing in by the doors.

Knole has one of the most extensive, if not the most extensive, collection of Stuart furniture in the world, and the docents were very patient will all my questions.