A Trick of the Light by Ali Carter (books for 5 year olds to read themselves TXT) 📗

on the sale of wool from their ever-expanding flock.’ The effortless spiel was rolling off Fergus’s tongue. ‘The farm was making good money and a title raised their profile in society. Being aesthetes…’

‘Eestheet?’ said Shane, much to the amusement of Minty.

‘Someone who appreciates beauty,’ explained Jane.

Fergus continued: ‘Contributing to the coronation, securing themselves a title, casting off old ties and embracing the new life as part of the aristocracy was an effective way for our ancestors to gain access to the best art and architecture.’

‘Social climbing,’ said Ewen, ‘is what you’d call it nowadays.’

Giles grunted.

‘I don’t understand?’ said Lianne.

‘Having a title,’ said Jane, ‘brought the Muchtons friends in high places and all these friends would have spent money furnishing their houses with fine art.’

‘But you don’t have to have a title to have good art,’ said Giles, I presume defending his own untitled although privileged family.

‘We’re talking about the eighteenth century,’ said Fergus. ‘In the midst of the Scottish Enlightenment, the best art collections belonged to those who could afford it, the rich aristocracy.’

‘Did you get this house with your title then?’ said Lianne.

‘In a roundabout way.’

‘For free?’

‘No.’ Fergus was amused. ‘The 1st Earl built it.’

‘It’s an Adam house,’ said Jane, ‘it was explained in the starter pack for the course.’

Fergus clapped his hands. ‘We’re going to run out of time for more paintings. I’ll tell you about the house another day.’ He flung open the door to the larger drawing room and his tummy gave an audible rumble. ‘Above the mantelpiece is a portrait of the 1st Earl’s brown-eyed wife Ruth painted by Ramsay in 1764.’

‘Gaw, she’s beautiful,’ said Giles.

‘Ramsay was an eminent painter at the time, which is why I wanted to point it out, but we must continue. You can come back and study this another time.’

We were chivvied out and into the billiards room.

‘Are you all familiar with the concept of the Grand Tour?’

‘Rounding off the education for sons of the aristocracy,’ said Giles, proudly.

‘Exactly. Young men were sent to the Continent to…’

‘Sow their wild oats,’ Ewen interrupted.

Giles sniggered.

‘More importantly,’ said Fergus, ‘to see first-hand the great paintings of famous artists such as Raphael and Titian, the cities of the Renaissance and the remains of classical civilisations.’ He gave a great sweep with his right arm. ‘All the watercolours hanging around this room were painted by the 2nd Earl under the tutorship of Gavin Hamilton.’

‘That’s the interior of the Pantheon, ain’t it,’ said Lianne pointing at one.

‘Yes,’ said Minty, ‘and look, here’s the temple of Athene – I love the Greeks.’

‘How do you know all about the Greeks?’ said Shane.

‘We had an art history trip there last year.’

‘Me too,’ said Giles.

‘What? Your school paid for that?’

‘No, Mummy and Daddy did.’

‘Fergus, did you say these were painted by your relation?’ I asked and he nodded.

‘So, are there still artists in your family?’

‘I’m an artist,’ blurted Ewen and I suddenly realised why Zoe had warned me he might want to join the course. Rupert, thank you Rupert, diverted our attention.

‘I like that painting.’ He was pointing towards a magnificent full-length portrait of a young man wearing the most beautiful blue silk and standing in front of a classical landscape.

‘That’s the 2nd Earl, painted by Pompeo Batoni.’ Fergus shone the torch at the horizon highlighting the towers of the Vatican in the distance.

‘Magical,’ said Minty.

‘Now, come, out of here and we’ll do a quick circuit upstairs.’

‘Were daughters ever sent on a Grand Tour?’ asked Felicity.

‘Occasionally, and you’ll find a copperplate engraving by Francesco Bartolozzi hanging in the gents. It’s of the 2nd Earl’s daughters, Annabel and Mary, on theirs.’ Fergus nattered away as we lined out on the landing. ‘If you want to learn more about the Grand Tour, we have a very good copy of Boswell’s An Account of Corsica in the library. Also, don’t forget to look at the watercolours of Rome painted by Simone Pomardi on your way to the dining room later.’

‘Which Earl collected those?’ said Rupert.

‘The 4th.’

‘Now his wife’s an interesting character,’ said Ewen, winking at Louis, or me; it was hard to tell as we were standing one behind the other.

‘These,’ said Fergus, drawing our attention to the oil sketches crammed on the walls, ‘are all views of the estate, painted by Landseer.’

I made sure not to catch his eye.

‘Landseer?’ said Shane. ‘The guy who sculpted the lions at Trafalgar Square?’

‘Yes.’

‘And The Monarch of the Glen,’ said Lianne. ‘Our teacher gave us a quick run-down of Scottish art before we came.’

‘Even an ignoramus like me knows that painting,’ said Rupert. ‘Comes from my love of stalking, you see.’

‘Which Earl collected these?’ said Felicity.

‘The 4th again but it wasn’t so much a collection as a gift.’

‘Why?’

‘Landseer was a popular visitor at Highland house parties and often in return for an invitation he would give his hosts a beautiful oil sketch he’d done over the course of his stay.’

I counted at least fourteen paintings. ‘He must have been here a lot.’

‘They’re simply lovely,’ said Jane. ‘You’re jolly lucky to have so many.’

‘Isn’t he,’ said Ewen with a huge grin. ‘They’re all thanks to Countess Flora.’

‘Perhaps you’d like to explain,’ said Fergus, deferring to his brother.

‘I’ve always admired Landseer,’ began Ewen, ‘his Highland oil paintings are my favourite. Theatre – that’s how I think of them.’ Fergus began to twitch. ‘A performance within a frame. Stags, dogs, game and foliage beating their breasts on the stage…’

Louis got the giggles and Fergus interjected, ‘What I thought Ewen was going to tell you is why we have so many more of them than most Highland houses.’

‘Countess Flora, the 4th Earl’s wife,’ said Ewen, much to Fergus’s evident relief, ‘had an affair with Landseer, and that’s why he came to stay so many times.’

‘And…’ Fergus fed his brother the next line.

‘Some of the dates on the backs of the pictures prove he came often even after her husband had died.’

‘Why didn’t she marry him then?’ said Lianne.

‘He was an artist,’ said Minty, as if her parents had whispered something similar