C/O Mrs Clive
Brympton D’Evercy
Somersetshire
Thursday, July 29, 1937.
Dear Daddy,
We don’t go to Monkton until Saturday, and we hope to remain there for a week. Tomorrow I shall have no time to write, as there is a Garden Party! I gather that we are included in the function, as Mrs C. tells me I will have the chance to meet Mrs Roper again. And who else do you think is coming? Mimsie!! (Mrs Brain of Canonsgrove, Taunton) and a Mrs Bob Hole and daughter.
Forde Abbey defies amateur description. It is magnificent outside and in, and the gardens are superb – what we saw of them. Nearly all ceilings are figured all over – most elaborate – the furnishings are Chippendale and that sort of thing. Indigo Jones converted the Abbey into a dwelling house.
To start with we were staggered to be met at the drive gates by a running footman in livery, who directed us to another gate as the main gate was undergoing repairs. Cyril paled, and said he felt frozen all over!! But Mrs Roper is so homely and sweet that you just accept the place as her setting, and forget the grandness of solid silver tea trays and what not brought in by the footman.
We had tea in a colossal hall, the enormous fireplace laid with a fire ready to light and topped with logs 2 ft. long – no nearer 3 ft. long, I should say. The tapestries Miss Marsh showed us were such that even I could see the beauty in them. One set “The Triumphs of Charlemagne”, are believed to have belonged to Charles I. It is known that he possessed such a set, and when the Commonwealth began the chap living at Forde Abbey was the man who had the job of disposing of the King’s personal effects &c. Whether he acquired this priceless set of tapestries like Jack Horner’s plum, no one knows – but of course he may have paid a good price for them. Another set of tapestries – all biblical in subject, and still of vivid and beautiful colouring – hangs in the salon, and cover the walls completely. These were made by imported Brussels craftsmen for Charles II, and it was his wish that English people should learn the craft from them. And the Duke of Devonshire (?) had a set, and the Duke of Buccleuch had a set which he lent to furnish the Annex at Westminster Abbey for the Coronation. But they are not considered as fine as those at Forde, and so are assumed to be copies. Queen Anne gave them to one of her gentlemen at court, by the name of – I forgot. He was some sort of official and was highly valued by her, but as he had no son she permitted him to leave them to his son-in-law, Gwyn, who lived at the Abbey after him. Sir Edmund Prideaux was one of the earliest, if not the first who lived there, and his coat of arms ornaments the ceiling of this salon.
The Abbey Church was utterly demolished, but the old Chapter House makes a lovely little chapel. The Vicar of the parish (two miles away) takes a service there once a month, but if they have a clerical visitor of course they have a Celebration every Sunday. Mrs Roper’s cousin, the Bishop of Ottawa (I believe) stayed a long time with her recently, and another episcopal visitor was there when we went over, the Bishop of Arizona. Miss Marsh has promised me some cards of the place. She is such a dear.
At the foot of the huge staircase was a pair of solid oak gates – “Dog –doors”, to prevent the dogs from going upstairs – in the olden days, not used now. The last Abbot was named Forde.
Michael spent the afternoon with Mark and his nurse and baby brother in a sort of summer house hidden away down the gardens and flanked by a sand pit and spades &c where he had a picnic tea. I did not meet Geoffrey, but his wife was very nice. Cyril is champing at the bit and wants me to go out.
I’ve just time to tell you that I have verified a little more of Mrs C’s lineage. Two of her great grandfathers were the Duke of Westmorland and the Duke of Bessborough. Mr Nicholas has arrived for the Garden Party with Solomon, but I don’t know whether the entire family came as well.
We have been to Lyme Regis for the day today – complete with car and chauffeur, while Mrs C, got on with her gardening as usual. She does what she can to amuse her guests, but does not try to be “social”. She’ll talk if you can find her in a clump of flowers somewhere, but you must search for her if you want her.
P.S. Apropos of the big tapestries in Forde Abbey salon. I forgot to mention that the Pope has a set at the Vatican – but even they are not as good as the Forde set. His holiness had all the high lights done in gold and silver thread, and this has tarnished and gone black. Whereas those at Forde, done in silk, are as clear as the day they were made almost.
I went out last night as requested, and Mr Nicholas collected us and insisted on taking us on the lake. The poor little boat groaned under the weight of him and his wife and Cyril and me.
They rowed in circles, got becalmed in the middle of the water lilies, played “wobbles” and “rocky-rocky” – had mud digging competitions with the oars – in fact tried everything they could think of. When we landed Mr N. insisted on getting out first – and then he pushed us off again and refused to let us land. At last he “repented”, and helped us to the landing stage, removed one oar and shot us adrift again. After a bit as it was by this time quite dark, and his wife was in evening dress and terrified of bats, he threw the oar into the pond and Cyril very cleverly got us back. Then Cyril had an idea to play croquet by torch light. This proved excellent fun and we continued until a quarter to 11. So exciting did it prove that Mrs Clive was fetched out. She was engaged in sewing her petticoat “against the Garden Party”, but left it, and appeared to our surprise in evening dress!! – black silk and long with lace sleeves. She looked very nice but gathered her skirt up and wore it as a cloak, to keep her warm. Fortunately it was too dark to see her much – but she must have looked very odd.
Your loving daughter,
Veronica
