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Adding to my long series of irrelevant posts, I was intrigued about this sundial. I think it’s because Charlecote House is relatively pristine maintenance wise and looked after, but this has fallen into disrepair at some stage. And, no-one seems to know much about it, but the best guess is that it was installed in the 1820s when the property was being modernised. But, it might be older, so that’s another riveting factual post from me. I did ask AI to date it, but it knew that it was at Charlecote and then based its guesswork on that. It seemed to like the idea that it’s an older sundial that was restored in the 1820s, so that seems a decent compromise. Anyway, I just like some things to fade away without being restored and that’s reason enough for a whole blog post about a bit of old stone.

This painting is displayed in the Great Hall of Charlecote House and was given to the National Trust by Sir Montgomerie Fairfax-Lucy (1896 – 1965) in 1946 when the property and most of its contents were transferred to them. This is probably Davenport Lucy (1659/1660-1690) although it was previously thought to have been Elizabeth Lucy. This habit from the time of dressing children up as girls has certainly caused some issues in identifying centuries later on who is who. It’s not known who painted it and the National Trust’s estimated painting date of 1660 is a little aspirational given when Davenport was born and so it likely dates to around 1665.

Anyway, it’s time for a table.

Davenport Lucy was the eldest son of Sir Fulke Lucy (c. 1623–1677) and Isabella Davenport (d. 1689) and Sir Fulke was the sixth son of Sir Thomas Lucy and Alice Spencer (with Richard Lucy being the third of six sons). As a younger son in a large gentry family, he did not inherit the primary family estate of Charlecote. Instead, he was the designated heir to his parents’ property, primarily the Henbury estate which he inherited from his mother.His path to establishing his own standing instead involved political service and a strategic marriage, although he did inherit Charlecote in 1684. He served as Member of Parliament for Warwick in 1659 and later for Cheshire from 1664 until his death in 1677. He was knighted sometime after the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660, evidently sharing the political skill of Richard Lucy.

But, moving straight on to Davenport’s death. The Siege of Limerick (1690) was a key event in the Williamite War in Ireland (1689–1691), a conflict between the Catholic supporters of the deposed King James II (known as Jacobites) and the Protestant forces of King William III (Williamites). It took place in August and September 1690, following William’s victory at the Battle of the Boyne in July of that year. Serving as a Captain in the Royal Horse Guards within William III’s besieging army, Davenport Lucy was directly involved in the military operations. On 20 August 1690, during the intense fighting and bombardment characteristic of seventeenth-century siege warfare, he was struck and killed by a cannonball which I imagine he considered to be somewhat sub-optimal. It’s not known if he was buried in Ireland or whether his body was returned to Charlecote. Adding to the complexity, his lack of successors meant that they were left faffing around with the family tree to see who would take it on next.

This painting displayed in the Great Hall of Charlecote House is of Richard Lucy (1619-1677) who was the third son of Sir Thomas Lucy III and Alice Spencer. It’s not known who painted it, but it dates from between 1650 and 1658, showing Richard thinking he’s something of an intellectual with his book and globe. The artwork (and indeed the entire house) was presented to the National Trust in 1946 by Sir Montgomerie Fairfax-Lucy (1896 – 1965), two years after the death of his father, Sir Henry Ramsay-Fairfax, 3rd Bt (1870 – 1944).

Richard Lucy interests me because of the period in which he lived, which was right in the middle of the English Civil War. Richard was the third of six sons of Sir Thomas Lucy (c. 1585–1640) who was himself a Member of Parliament, and his wife Alice Spencer (c. 1590–1648) of Claverden, Warwickshire. The Lucys of Charlecote were significant landowners, known not only for their administrative roles but also as patrons of the arts and scholars, fostering a notable library at Charlecote Richard’s grandfather, another Sir Thomas Lucy (d. 1600), was also an MP and magistrate, famously (though perhaps apocryphally) linked with prosecuting a young William Shakespeare for pinching some deer.

Richard was well educated and he matriculated at Queen’s College at Oxford University on 17 September 1634, recorded as being aged 14. A young learner and all that, he must have been impressively studious for a teenager. Well, and wealthy, that helps. Following university, he undertook a period of foreign travel between 1637 and 1640, a common practice for broadening horizons and completing a gentleman’s education. Later, in 1652, he was admitted as a student to Gray’s Inn, one of the prestigious Inns of Court in London, suggesting an interest in law, even if he didn’t fancy the full wig and gown commitment. Richard wasn’t the most important though as he was third in line, behind his elder brothers Spencer and Robert. Consequently, he did not initially stand to inherit the principal family estate and it was only upon the deaths of both Spencer and Robert that Richard succeeded to Charlecote in 1658.

Richard had done politics, he had been the Sheriff of Warwickshire from 1646 to 1647 and he was appointed to the Barebones Parliament of 1653. This was a small Parliament, tasted primarily with trying to sort out the complete mess that they’d killed the King and they now had a country that was falling apart. His appointment is intriguing as there were no elections in that year to this institution, the members were appointed by Oliver Cromwell’s Army Council. They wouldn’t have selected someone opposed to their aims, so Richard must have been tolerating their work or seen as someone competent enough to have on board to help resolve the mess that had been created.

However, matters soon changed and Richard hit a little snag. He was mentioned as being one of approximately 40 members who were refused admittance to the House of Commons (likely during the Second Protectorate Parliament, around 1656) because they declined to take an oath recognising Cromwell’s government or pledging loyalty to the Protector. This act of refusal places Lucy within a significant group of MPs who resisted the increasing consolidation of power under Cromwell or objected to the specific terms of engagement demanded by the regime.

Despite this little debacle, Lucy’s political standing remained sufficient for him to be elected again and in 1659, for the Third Protectorate Parliament (convened by Richard Cromwell), he achieved the notable distinction of being elected for two constituencies simultaneously: his established seat of Warwickshire and the borough of Yarmouth on the Isle of Wight. The rules then are the same as today, he had to pick one and he went with Warwickshire which made sense as he lived there and faffing about getting to the Isle of Wight would have been inconvenient. Although, perhaps he hankered over the island life, as he was elected to Yarmouth the following year and he remained the representative until his death in 1677. Although he remained relatively quiet in this Parliament, he did well to navigate the period when the Monarchy was restored, although as a major landowner it wouldn’t likely have been difficult.

So, all told, he was something of a political survivor and he must have shown some skill in being able to navigate the Commonwealth and the Monarchy, a period of general chaos in England. So, perhaps it was only right that he did appear like an intellectual in this painting…..

The artist isn’t known, but this painting is located in the Great Hall of Charlecote House and depicts Margaret Spencer (1627-1704). She has a direct connection to the property as she first married Robert Lucy of Charlecote (1622–1658 and son of Sir Thomas Lucy III and Alice Spencer) in 1654. After Robert’s death, she married Thomas, 4th Lord Arundell of Wardour, hence her later title. I did read Charlecote and the Lucys by Alice Fairfax-Lucy to see why Robert died, but it doesn’t give a reason and I imagine that no-one knows. Margaret and Robert had one child, Bridget Lucy who married William Molyneux, but the Lucy line seems to have died there and the title went back up the line (for anyone interested, the full tree is here).

The artwork was presented by to the National Trust in the 1940s by Sir Montgomerie Fairfax-Lucy two years after the death of his father, Sir Henry Ramsay-Fairfax, 3rd Baronet.

This is a rather interesting bird’s-eye view of Charlecote Park from a perspective which is commonplace now, but which was a little less usual at the time, although some landowners liked being able to see the extent of their land and the grandeur of their properties. The painting is located in the Grand Hall of the building and it’s thought to have been painted in around 1696. The gardens have changed somewhat as this formal style, which I rather like, was removed by Capability Brown in the 1760s and then changed again in the 1820s. The artwork has been credited to the Dutch artist Jan Stevens (?-1722) as he painted numerous other artworks in this style, but there’s no evidence that he actually painted this one. But, in the absence of any other information, it might as well be attributed to him. I’m not sure that’s how an art historian would think, but I’m not an art historian so that solves that one.

Here’s a better image of the house as it once looked. It shows the core Elizabethan house built by Sir Thomas Lucy I in the 1550s, before the significant Victorian alterations undertaken by George Hammond Lucy and his wife Mary Elizabeth from the 1820s onwards.

I think it’s quite intriguing to see a room in a National Trust property looking like this. This is the dining room at Charlecote House and it’s a key room in the property, reached from the Great Hall. This section of the property isn’t part of the Elizabethan core, it’s part of the west wing extension that was added in the 1830s by George Hammond and Mary Elizabeth Lucy.

And here’s the problem, they’ve had a leak. As the signage notes, there was a small leak from a gutter which led to a leak that went unnoticed until the wallpaper started to peel off the wall and mushrooms started to appear. I was visiting the property with Richard, who is on his big diet, and reading that managed to make him hungry. He’s distracted by anything even vaguely food related at the moment….

That’s their issue. Although it’s worth noting the rather impressive ornate plaster ceiling in the room.

They’re on the second stage of fixing the rather sub-optimal arrangement.

I rather like that they’ve decided to keep the room open so that visitors can see the work that is ongoing. The wallpaper is by Thomas Willement, it’s all a bit opulent for me, but I think that was likely the intention at the time.

It’s a huge undertaking to fix a relatively small problem, although such is the challenge in historic buildings. If this building was in private hands, the cost of the repairs would perhaps be too onerous, but it certainly looks like the National Trust are doing a thorough repair job.