AT about 8.30pm on August 3, 1900, after the social exertions of the Goodwood races, Mr and Mrs George Wilder, the owners of Stansted Park, were roused from the dinner table by a fire alarm; a coachman and manservant had spotted flames rising from one corner of the house. A hose was immediately connected to an emergency water supply, but the lead roof made it impossible to fight the blaze effectively and a fierce gale fanned the flames. By the time the combined fire brigades of Emsworth and Havant had arrived at about 10pm, the conflagration was beyond control and-in the words of a breathless report in The Bexhill Chronicle-it 'became evident that the beautiful mansion was doomed'.
All efforts, therefore, turned to the rescue of the contents. 'Firemen, police, servants of the house, workmen on the estate and scores of bystanders'-the report continued—‘were quickly lending a hand in removing valuable furniture, rich carpets and miscellaneous effects from more accessible parts of the burning mansion… By 2 o’clock in the morning every floor in the mansion had gone… And when the flames had died away by five or 6 o’clock on Saturday morning, nothing remained of its former glory but charred and blackened ruins.’ It amused the crowds who came to survey the smouldering remains that a family of sparrows nesting in the joint of a water pipe were undisturbed by the whole episode.
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة April 24, 2024 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك ? تسجيل الدخول
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة April 24, 2024 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
Give it some stick
Galloping through the imagination, competitive hobby-horsing is a gymnastic sport on the rise in Britain, discovers Sybilla Hart
Paper escapes
Steven King selects his best travel books of 2024
For love, not money
This year may have marked the end of brag-art’, bought merely to show off one’s wealth. It’s time for a return to looking for connoisseurship, beauty and taste
Mary I: more bruised than bloody
Cast as a sanguinary tyrant, our first Queen Regnant may not deserve her brutal reputation, believes Geoffrey Munn
A love supreme
Art brought together 19th-century Norwich couple Joseph and Emily Stannard, who shared a passion for painting, but their destiny would be dramatically different
Private views
One of the best ways-often the only way-to visit the finest privately owned gardens in the country is by joining an exclusive tour. Non Morris does exactly that
Shhhhhh...
THERE is great delight to be had poring over the front pages of COUNTRY LIFE each week, dreaming of what life would be like in a Scottish castle (so reasonably priced, but do bear in mind the midges) or a townhouse in London’s Eaton Square (worth a king’s ransom, but, oh dear, the traffic) or perhaps that cottage in the Cotswolds (if you don’t mind standing next to Hollywood A-listers in the queue at Daylesford). The estate agent’s particulars will give you details of acreage, proximity to schools and railway stations, but never—no, never—an indication of noise levels.
Mission impossible
Rubble and ruin were all that remained of the early-19th-century Villa Frere and its gardens, planted by the English diplomat John Hookham Frere, until a group of dedicated volunteers came to its rescue. Josephine Tyndale-Biscoe tells the story
When a perfect storm hits
Weather, wars, elections and financial uncertainty all conspired against high-end house sales this year, but there were still some spectacular deals
Give the dog a bone
Man's best friend still needs to eat like its Lupus forebears, believes Jonathan Self, when it's not guarding food, greeting us or destroying our upholstery, of course