Posh Polesdon Lacey in Surrey

Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Great Bookham, Surrey

For some reason, I could not sleep until well past 1.00 am last night and to make matters worse, I awoke at 5 am. (groan!!). I read a bit of Harry Potter but felt dreadfully drowsy again by 6 am when I went back to sleep not to awake until 8. 15 am. So my entire schedule went haywire today--it is a good thing I am not officially working anymore! I dealt with my email and my blog for a good hour after that and only had a shower at 10. 30 am , my breakfast at 11 am and I left the house at 11. 45 after meeting and chatting with Isabel, Paul's secretary, who comes in once a week to work for him.

My aim, today, was to get to Surrey by public transport to visit Polesdon Lacey. This elegant Regency country estate is set in the middle of nowhere or somewhere in Surrey (like so many of the National Trust properties are). I had googled it to find out timings and transport facilities and discovered that I could take a Southern main line train from Clapham Junction to Leatherhead on the Dorking Line. I took red buses to get to Clapham and boarded the 1.08 train which was supposed to arrive at Letterhead at 1. 30 pm.

Only problem was, I fell asleep on the train and overshot my stop! Instead of getting off at Leatherhead, I had to get off at Dorking. The bonus was that I got a chance to take in the spectacular Surrey Hills and countryside around Box Hill, a picnic area that was popularized by Jane Austen in her novels as a spot that she and her family often frequented. It wasn't difficult to board another train in the reverse direction and in another fifteen minutes, I was at Leatherhead again, looking for a taxi to take me to Polesdon Lacey because there is no public transport to get to this venue. Let me tell you that my guidebook had informed me that the one-way fare by cab was 6 pounds--it turned out to be a whopping 10 pounds and with 10 pounds return, this turned out to be a rather expensive trip transport-wise (because I paid 8. 50 pounds for the train ticket)!

Still, my long excursion and the transportation expense had been well worth it. All I knew about this estate was that it was once owned by the Restoration playwright Richard Brindsley Sheridan. Later, it was purchased by a Mrs. Margareth Greville, a socialite and hostess with the mostest, who turned it into a grand country estate in the Edwardian style, providing for her weekend guests the kind of lifestyle that after World War II has gone with the wind.

What I found out when I arrived at Polesdon Lacey was a great deal more--and it was truly fascinating. In keeping with my desire to use my National Trust membership to the maximum to explore these little-known venues and having to rely only on public transport (as I do not drive in the UK), I have had to scout around for places that meet these two criteria.

My cab driver, a Frenchman named Jean, chatted en route to the estate and volunteered to come back at 5.00pm to pick me up. So that took care of that and I was relieved as I was rather worried about how I was to get back to Leatherhead train station. We passed beautiful unspoilt countryside that lay spreadeagled under a vivid green blanket on what was a bracing day--no rain even if clouds did not allow the sun to shine brilliantly upon the earth.

I went through the farm shop where I found Border's Dark Milk Chocolate Covered Ginger Biscuits being sold for just a pound a pack. Needless to say, I bought 4 packs as these have become among my very favorite biscuits in England and I eat them by the carton! The shop was sampling a brew called Indian Pale Ale, which I tasted and found to be rather good. It was only later (in the house) that I learned the history behind this tipple.

In the main reception area, I showed my Royal Oak Membership Card. They wanted to know where in the States I was from and when I said "Connecticut", the lady responded, "Ah, a place where there are some really beautiful gardens!" Then, they gave me my sticker and led me in. I used the facilities and poked my head into the restaurant where I discovered that A Curry Festival was on for the week--the menu would feature Indian meals such as the ones Mrs. Greville was likely to have served her Indian guests (maharajas all) when she entertained them at her country estate in the 1930s! Well, Indian it was, but pricey too--the sort that would suit the pocket of the Maharajas who ate them, no doubt!--and I had my sandwich tucked in my bag that I planned to eat later in the afternoon--so I passed on the curry treat.

The History of Polesdon Lacey:
I headed straight, then, to the House which appeared suddenly as I rounded a bend. And I was completely stunned by the size of it. Indeed, it seemed to go on forever, so many of its wings stretching out around a courtyard. National Trust volunteers greeted me at the entrance, relieved me of my bag and led me to the main doors. In the grand hallway, a 'steward' told me a little bit about the history of the house and pointed out its main features. The house was built in the 17th century but by 1818 it was a ruin. It was bought in 1908 by Mrs. Greville upon her marriage to Mr. Ronald Greville. He had aristocratic connections and introduced her to royal circles so that the house soon became graced by the presence of royalty.

Now while Mrs. Margareth Greville might not have had aristocratic antecedents, what she did posses was a pile of very serious money. Her father was the beer brewery magnate William McEwan who made his fortune in ale--the famous Indian Pale Ale which became a huge hit among British Raj expatriates in the colonies to which it was exported by the shipload throughout the 1800s.

Now there is a bit of hazy family history at this point of which not much is known. You see, William's wife (Margareth's mother) was once married to a Mr. Anderson who happened to be William's butler. However, William had once had a clandestine affair with Mrs. Anderson. When 9 months after their intimate tryst, Mrs. Anderson produced a baby, William McEwan probably suspected that the daughter to whom she gave birth was his. However, as the mother was married to Mr. Anderson, the name of the baby's father on Margareth's birth certificate was Mr. Anderson!

William McEwan waited until Mr. Anderson died a natural death and only married his widow, Mrs. Anderson, when her daughter Margareth was 21! As the newly married McEwan couple had no other children, William's entire fortune (a staggering 1. 5 million in 1907) passed into the hands of Margareth. Hence, when she married Ronnie Greville, she brought an astounding amount of money with her, a great deal of which she spent on restoring Polesdon Lacey to make it fit for entertaining royalty.

The refurbishment was completed in 1917, but poor Ronnie Greville died in 1918. Though she was courted by most of the country's most eligible bachelors, Mrs. Greville remained a widow until her death in 1942, when, because she died childless, the house with its contents and the contents of her father's London's home were bequeathed to the National Trust. Hence, the house as we see it today is entirely Margareth Greville's doing and when you walk through the corridors and rooms that make up its splendid bulk, you are reminded constantly about the ravishing spirit of the woman who made it all possible.

The House:
The entry hallway is remarkable for a carved wooden reredos that dominates one wall, a series of Flemish tapestries and a general sense of elegance created by the presence of well-chosen pieces of furniture. On the left hand side, is a staircase covered with a red velvet carpet and a vitrine with a collection of Italian majolica inside.

Once I had learned the history of the house in the entrance hallway, I entered the Dining Room with its long table all set as if for a formal banquet with the lovely Swiss Zurich family porcelain. The only portrait on the wall with any connections to the owner's family is that of William McEwan, who has an endearing face and a rather handsome snowy white beard. All the other portraits on the wall are 18th century works collected by Mrs. Greville who became something of a connoisseur of fine art and filled the house with her acquisitions. The Trust provides handouts in each room that allowed me to study each of the paintings, some of which were done by prominent contemporary artists such as Thomas Lawrence and Peter Lely.

It is the three arms of the wide corridor that contain the best part of Mrs. Greville's collection--here, works by Culpys, Ruisdael, van de Velde, etc. (mostly Flemish) catch the eye, but it was an exquisite work called Children Playing Golf by Pieter de Hooch (one of my favourite painters) featuring his own two children that completely enchanted me. I looked long and hard for a post card of it in the shop but was sadly disappointed not to find one. There is also a full length portrait of Mrs. Greville that I took to be the work of John Singer Sargent (going by its distinctive style) but it turned out to be by someone else who was trained by the same Portrait master under whom Sargent had trained!

Then began my exploration of the many rooms that comprise the home and of these, the Gold Salon was breathtaking. There is also a Billiards Room and an adjoining Smoking Room and a Gun Room, and in the female part of the home a Library and study that Mrs. Greville thought of as her haven--the concept of A Room of Her Own seems to have originated long before Virginia Woolf made it popular. It is in these rooms that the visitor can fully appreciate the extent of her collecting capacity for there are books and paintings and sculpture and china and porcelain, any amount of Japanese Satsuma vases and urns and gold fish bowls, crystal chandeliers and sconces--all of the baubles that the moneyed collected when their pockets felt deep enough. I enjoyed my wanderings through these posh environs feeling very grateful indeed for the good job that the National Trust does in preserving them for future generations.

Perhaps the best and most ingenious touch of all was a live pianist who sat in the Salon tinkling on the ivories and creating the most evocative music throughout my visit. I, who have walked through so many such extravagant properties, felt that my experience was totally transformed by this tuneful touch and I thank the Trust for including this treat and the pianist for making my visit so special.

Upstairs, there is a salon area where visitors are encouraged to linger by taking a breather on the luxurious sofas and imagining for a moment that they are Mrs. Greville's privileged guests. For it was the rich and famous who made an appearance at Polesdon Lacey including Albert, Duke of York ("Bertie", later King George VI, father of the present Queen) who spent part of his honeymoon there following his marriage to Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon (the late Queen Mother). There are delightful black and white pictures of them taken on their honeymoon at Polesdon Lacey in which they do not so much as hold each other's hands! There are also pictures of the Maharajas of Cooch Behar and of the Maharaja of Mysore and I have been marveling at all these India connections that I seem to be making everywhere I go! These were personal friends of Mrs. Greville who wintered in the colonies as the guest of some of the world's glitterati--the Merry Widow sure did waltz to a tune all of her own making!

Just before I left the house, my ears pricked up the strains of one of my favorite melodies of all time--Schubert's Ave Maria. I turned around like a shot and returned to the Salon where the pianist was picking the tune with the utmost delicacy and bringing to my eyes the sharp prick of tears--for I can never listen to this composition without crying. It was only left for me to go and thank him for his talent. Indeed his choice of piece at the very point when I was leaving the house made me feel as if he had chosen it especially for me.

Strolling Through the Gardens:
No grand estate is complete without an equally superb garden, so it was time for me to walk through the sprawling property--all 1,400 acres of it that Capability Brown inspired. Except that I neither had the time nor the energy to go more than a few paces. I chose instead to linger in the lovely Rose Garden which was in full bloom today. The English really do know how to grow roses and how to plan and plant rose gardens to their best advantage. Always enclosed within high brick walls, these secret gardens are entered through ornamental wrought iron gates that add to their charm and lead the visitor on scented pathways towards floral perfection. Right outside the gates was the grave of Mrs. Greville who was buried on the beloved grounds of her English home within touching distance of the pale yellow walls of Polesdon Lacey.

I paused for a slice of Coffee and Walnut cake in the cafe and was just in time to meet with Jean who arrived on schedule to pick me up. In a few minutes, I was on the platform at Leatherhead en route for Clapham where I reversed the morning's journey and returned home by 7. 30.

I spent the rest of the evening writing my blog and attending to my email. I am having long and very busy days but they have been truly edifying and through a tour of these grand country estates and gardens, I have taken myself body and soul into one of my favorite phases in English history--the Edwardian Age, a time when the landed gentry lived like royalty basking in the wealth that was generated by their colonies, little knowing that the guns of war were rumbling in the background and that their lives would never be the same after it!