Britain's Lost Treasures Returned: How Houghton Got Its Art Back

In 1779, Britain lost one of its greatest treasures,

a stunning art collection, one of the finest in Europe.

More than 200 paintings by some of the greatest artists in history.

Rembrandt, Rubens, Van Dyck, Poussin.

They were stripped from the walls of Houghton Hall in Norfolk

and sold abroad.

Shipped over 1,000 miles away to Saint Petersburg in Russia.

Awaiting their arrival with great anxiety

was Tsarina Catherine II,

Empress Catherine the Great of Russia.

She acquired the private art collection

of Britain's first prime minister, Sir Robert Walpole.

It was an artistic loss that was to cause public outrage in Britain.

But for Catherine the Great of Russia,

it would be the cornerstone of a great new collection

that would confirm Russia as a civilised nation.

This is the forgotten story of Russia's most-celebrated empress,

Britain's first prime minister

and how shifting family fortunes

saw Britain lose one of its first great art collections.

But now the paintings are coming home.

The clock will turn back 234 years for one brief summer,

when Houghton Hall will be reunited with its lost masterpieces.

Houghton Hall in Norfolk.

One of Britain's finest country houses.

Like a great Roman temple set deep in the English countryside.

This magnificent building

is a masterclass in the power of architecture.

Or perhaps to be more correct, the architecture of power.

It's also, in many ways, a portrait of its age

and of the man for whom it was built, Sir Robert Walpole,

Britain's first prime minister.

Sir Robert Walpole was a political colossus of the 18th century.

For more than 20 years, from the 1720s to the 1740s,

he dominated public life.

In many ways, he is the man who invented modern politics

and the way cabinet government works today.

He even gave 10 Downing Street to the nation

as the official residence of the prime minister.

Walpole was from a prosperous Norfolk family

with its roots in trade and farming.

But as he grew in power and prestige,

he built Houghton Hall and its great estate

to display his new place in the world.

And Houghton was constructed not merely as a grand country house,

but as a temple to the arts and learning.

The library has barely changed since Sir Robert's day.

And it remains a very direct expression of his power,

prestige and passions.

There, a portrait of George I stares down.

His books are largely still on the bookcases and the shelves here.

Incredible!

You can imagine him reclining here, on his day bed,

reading his state papers, looking at his books.

Here, you get a very direct and intimate sense

of Sir Robert in his house in Houghton.

There, of course, is his absolutely magnificent mahogany desk.

Here, Sir Robert would have sat, contemplating his idyllic landscape,

at this desk, essentially ruling the English-speaking world.

Sir Robert's position, and the grandeur of his lifestyle,

made him a controversial figure.

Accusations of corruption, favouritism

and naked ambition swirled around him.

He found himself mercilessly ridiculed by contemporary satirists

who questioned the source of his wealth

and the honesty of his political dealings.

But despite these accusations,

Walpole enjoyed the longest period of power

of any British prime minister.

He was a shrewd political operator

who knew how decisive appearances could be.

Walpole understood how to use his position of public power

to his own private best advantage.

He also recognised the power of art

in creating and sustaining a strong public image.

In the 18th century, an art collection

was proof of cultural and social standing.

For any aspiring politician, it was a vital tool,

one that displayed his wealth and superior taste.

But for Walpole, it went further.

He wanted to shape national taste

and inspire the arts in Britain to greater heights.

So he set about building an art collection

of the very highest quality.

The way in which Walpole collected art

demonstrates his network of power and influences.

He had ambassadors, and indeed spies, out in Europe

collecting political information,

but they were also charged with keeping an eye open

for good works of art.

You've got to remember, at the time,

paintings were a form of currency.

And a good tip about an outstanding piece,

well, could secure political advantages.

Today, the impact and quality

of Walpole's collection at Houghton Hall

is suggested only by a set of engravings.

These were commissioned in the 18th century

to memorialise the lost pictures.

These monotone images are all that's left here.

A mere shadow of the once glorious collection.

The real pictures, of course, had been sold,

taken down from the walls and shipped abroad.

The house was left naked, its meaning diminished.

Rooms like this, the common parlour,

lost more than a few paintings.

They lost their soul.

This was a house that had been conceived around the collection.

And now a crucial part of Houghton was missing.

Sir Robert had employed one man to oversee all the interior decoration.

In 1725, he'd engaged the services

of one of the most sought-after young painters

and architects in Britain, William Kent.

Kent combined classical elements to create a grand Roman palace.

He drew on the inspiration of classical Rome

and the art of antiquity.

Designed, of course, with one aim in mind -

to underline the power and prestige of Robert Walpole.

We have a revealing portrait here of Sir Robert.

Again, we see the tone of antiquity.

He's dressed here as a Roman senator, very grand.

But one touch is not historically correct.

He had to have his Roman toga and garb altered

to reveal a garter star.

He'd been awarded that in 1726.

He just had to show it, didn't he?

Rooms like this were designed to proclaim Walpole as a man of taste.

But this grand entrance hall was a mere fanfare for what was to come -

the great canvases.

Drawings by William Kent from 1725 demonstrate something remarkable.

Walpole's paintings were an integral part

of the architectural scheme at Houghton.

Every bit as important as the mouldings and furniture.

Houghton Hall was, in essence, conceived as a picture gallery.

And a gallery built for a very specific collection of paintings.

So now, for the first time in 234 years, the paintings,

or at least those that can travel,

are being reunited with the house.

Over the next few weeks,

Houghton will be restored to its former glory.

The man who's turning back the clock is the current owner,

David Rocksavage, the seventh Marquess of Cholmondeley.

He has long dreamt of bringing the paintings home.

David is a direct descendant of Sir Robert Walpole.

How do you feel about some of them coming back,

and, therefore, recreating part of the meaning of the interior,

as conceived by Sir Robert?

It will be extraordinary to see pictures back.

It's something we have always thought about and dreamt about,

but never imagined possible.

Well, how did this project start, bringing the paintings back?

When I first took over from my grandmother in 1990,

I discovered these drawings of the picture hang

in Sir Robert's desk in his library,

showing two or three of the rooms as they were hung probably in 1743.

So it was a project of a picture hang.

So this was enormously exciting

because we could see where things were.

Where the Rembrandt was, where the Rubens were.

And from there, the excitement grew and the project grew.

So today, it's these remarkable diagrams from 1743

that provide the crucial evidence

to reconstruct the original look of the house.

-You have the Grinling Gibbons portrait by Kneller here.

-Yes.

Which, of course, was placed with the Gibbons wooden surround...

-Right.

-..in the common parlour.

And the Teniers' Kitchen Scene.

-They're going to go where they were hanging in the 1740s?

-That's right.

Well, how exciting you found these, though, in the drawers.

I mean, they're now in mounts to be framed,

but presumably, they were just simply folded up.

They were folded up, exactly, in the back of the drawer.

I think they were placed there by my grandmother,

but she never told me about them, so it was an extraordinary discovery.

What's fantastic about this, one takes it slightly for granted,

but these are incredibly important, rare documents,

to have 18th-century picture hangs,

designed...well, designed and preserved as designs,

and then the paintings' names

so you know exactly what went where.

This is really an amazing discovery.

-An amazing document, isn't it?

-Amazing document.

These drawings are a fascinating record of 18th-century taste.

A faithful picture of Houghton Hall

as it was before the collection was lost.

So, how on earth had circumstances conspired

to cause Houghton to lose its great collection?

The beginning of the sorry story is revealed by Sir Robert's son Horace,

who wrote of his father falling deeper into debt and despair.

Horace recorded how he had come across his father

in tears in the library.

Constructing this temple to the arts had crippled him financially.

Sir Robert admitted to a neighbour

that it had cost around £200,000.

That's over £37 million in today's money.

As Horace said of his father,

his fondness for Houghton had endangered Houghton.

In 1745, Sir Robert Walpole died.

And by the early 1750s, the house,

the collection and inevitably, the debts,

had passed to Sir Robert's grandson, George.

George Walpole, or Mad George, as he has come down to posterity,

became, in the words of his uncle Horace,

"The most ruined young man in Britain."

George, alas, was his own worst enemy.

Horace later described him in less forgiving terms.

"The most selfish man in the world.

"He loves nobody but himself,

"yet neglects every view of fortune and ambition.

"He drinks without inclination,

"has women, not without inclination,

"games without attention.

"Is immeasurably obstinate."

Under the stewardship of George Walpole,

things went from bad to worse.

He was profligate, impressionable, prone to bouts of insanity.

He surrounded himself with hangers-on

and was only interested in pursuing his own pleasures.

It would be Mad George who set in motion the series of events

that led directly to the sale of Houghton's great art collection.

But a problem for George

was that Sir Robert's dream of shaping national taste

had, in part, at least, come true.

In the years since his death,

Houghton Hall and its fine collection

was increasingly perceived as a cultural jewel of the nation.

With the founding of the National Gallery still some 45 years away,

Walpole's paintings were just about the closest thing

Britain had to a national collection.

Selling up was not going to be quite as easy

or uncontroversial as George anticipated.

In October 1778, he engaged the services of a London art dealer

by the name of James Christie.

The sale would put the name of Christie's auction house on the map.

George Walpole gave explicit instructions

about which paintings were to be valued for sale

and which were to be ignored.

He also instructed that the whole business

should be undertaken with utmost secrecy.

Now, George had moments of madness, but he wasn't silly.

He realised that the public was hostile towards his proposed sale.

Questions were raised in Parliament.

Outrage and indignation spread.

It was a thoroughly modern dispute.

A cultural treasure of national importance

in danger of leaving these shores for ever.

Here at the Fitzwilliam are some revealing documents

that shed light on what would become the sale of the century.

This is a copy of Horace Walpole's Aedes Walpolianae,

which basically means shrine or treasures of the Walpole family,

is, of course, Horace's description, catalogue,

of the paintings owned by Sir Robert

displayed at Houghton and Downing Street.

Second edition, 1752, but rather important

because this edition, this particular copy, I should say,

is annotated in the margins, with the values

of most of the paintings, the values worked out by Mr James Christie.

It's a fascinating document. Let's have a look at some of them.

So, let's go to an important room, in Houghton,

the Common Parlour.

Many fine paintings were displayed there.

Looking through this we can see... Ah, here we have it,

the Bacchanalian by Rubens.

Not famously, in Horace's view,

not a very pleasant picture.

He didn't like all the nakedness,

but he loved the way the flesh was rendered by Rubens.

That painting was valued at £250,

a lot of money.

Flip over, let's see what else was in the Common Parlour.

Ah, yes, Rembrandt's Wife, half length, by Rembrandt.

In fact, not Rembrandt's wife,

but one of Rembrandt's paintings of an old woman.

A beautiful piece, this is valued at £300.

'But this remarkable catalogue is not just a list of prices.

'It also confirms the fate of their paintings.

'After months of speculation,

'and desperate calls on the British government to buy the collection

'on behalf of the nation,

'a powerful frontrunner had emerged.'

"This is to certify that this collection was valued at £40,500

"by Mr James Christie of Pall Mall.

"And that the said collection was purchased by

"her Imperial Majesty Catherine of Russia."

So we learn from this, not only the value of the paintings,

but, more importantly, that Christie,

in his role as an auctioneer found a purchaser, found Catherine.

He found someone with the money and the will

to buy this capital collection.

'In all, Catherine the Great, Empress of Russia

'and the most powerful woman in the world, had bought 204 paintings.

'There was an outcry in the British press, the nation was bereft.

'And Catherine was pilloried

'as a woman notorious for her voracious appetites,

'a sexual predator who was now targeting Britain's culture.

'But Catherine had a bigger problem than a bad press in Britain.

'How to transport these fragile, precious works

'over 1,000 miles to Saint Petersburg, across treacherous seas.

'The port closest to Houghton Hall, and suitable for the size

'of ship needed to do the job, was King's Lynn.

'Catherine despatched a naval frigate, the Natalia,

'to collect the paintings.'

Dispatching the paintings must have been a nerve-racking business.

Ships were regularly lost in the 18th century,

victims to ill winds, piracy,

even acts of war.

Catherine herself had lost a large treasure,

about eight years earlier,

in a ship bound for Saint Petersburg that had been wrecked

off the coast of Sweden.

I suppose she thought sending a frigate would be safer.

It could defend itself and was a more robust type of ship.

In fact, she was wrong.

'On the 3rd October, the Natalia was wrecked off the Dutch coast.

'News of the shipwreck quickly spread across Britain...

'..and it was received with as much anguish

'as news of the sale itself.

'Even artists captured the imagined scene.

'Britain had not merely lost a great treasure.

'It now seemed that the masterpieces of the Walpole collection

'were at the bottom of the sea.

'Yet these reports were wrong on one key point.

'The Natalia had been wrecked on its way to Britain.

'All the pictures were still awaiting collection.

'The paintings eventually sailed on two replacement ships

'and reached Russia without incident.'

'The sale of The Walpole Collection to Russia had indeed been

'a blow to British self-esteem.

'But it was to become more than that.

'It would become a symbol of the changing fortunes

'of these two great empires.

'In 1779, Britain was immersed in the American War of Independence,

'a war that would see the loss of the American colonies

'and a crisis of confidence at home.

'The feeling of despair and outrage was growing in Britain.'

The European Magazine of February 1782 contains a most powerful

letter which captures the mood of Britain.

It says here, "Gentlemen, The removal of the Houghton Collection

"of Pictures to Russia is, perhaps, one of the most striking instances

"that can be produced of the decline of the empire

"of Great Britain and of the advancement of that

"of our powerful ally in the North."

This letter makes clear that the loss of Walpole's collection

represented a loss of national pride and, more than that,

it seemed to confirm the collapse of Britain as a world power.

'To most British eyes, Russia remained a backward nation.

'But since the reign of Peter the Great

'it had been slowly changing, modernising.

'Catherine was determined to accelerate that pace of change

'and from the moment she took power in 1762,

'she worked hard to transform Russia

'into an enlightened, European nation.

'And art was central to that transition.'

This is a popular image of Catherine II.

She surrounded herself with cultured advisers

and was in correspondence with leading figures

of the European Enlightenment,

men like Diderot and Voltaire.

She believed that art, along with science,

were fundamentally important tools to sustain the transformation

of Russia from a feudal country, into a modern society.

'Just like Sir Robert Walpole, Catherine employed

'a network of spies and agents across Europe,

'men who could help her change the image of Russia

'by buying up some of the finest works of art available.'

Catherine embarked on a spending spree.

She bought up fine collections of art wherever she could

and brought them here to The Winter Palace, in Saint Petersburg.

She was a woman obsessed.

She admitted with charming honesty,

"It's not a love of art, it's a voracity,

"I'm not an art lover,

I'm a glutton."

'In truth, Catherine had an astute eye and a shrewd business head.

'If an aristocratic family anywhere in western European

'had an impressive art collection and fell on hard times,

'she was ready to pounce.'

Over 15 years Catherine's art collection grew to an enormous size,

as did, eventually, the buildings that house it.

The collection and the buildings are now the State Hermitage Museum,

one of the most important and largest art collections in the world.

And Walpole's paintings formed one of the cornerstones

of this fantastic museum.

'In the grand surroundings of the Hermitage galleries,

'even today the sheer size of some of the canvases

'that made the perilous journey from Norfolk is staggering.'

This is wonderful, here are the Frans Snyders' Market Scenes.

Catherine acquired four of these from Walpole.

So, Walpole got his paintings very early on, 1723,

amongst the earliest paintings he acquired,

and they were put into the saloon and Houghton, fascinating.

So Kent drawing, William Kent drawing design for the saloon,

1725, when the saloon is still being designed,

and these are already shown in place, making it clear, to a degree,

that the paintings determined the interior decoration of Houghton.

The paintings came first, the architecture arranged around them.

The paintings show four market scenes.

Obviously here the fish market.

A wonderful collection of fish being delivered,

and a rather cheeky seal there, look, looking rather greedily

at this bucket of eels being delivered. Wonderful!

Sadly these are not going to be returning for the exhibition,

they are too delicate to travel, so you have to come here,

to the Hermitage to enjoy them.

'Larissa Dukelskaya is a senior curator at the Hermitage

'and the story of how Catherine came to buy the Walpole Collection

'is a subject she has researched in detail.'

Are you excited that after so many hundreds of years

Walpole's Collection, or at least a large part of it,

is being reassembled and going back to its original context?

In your opinion, when the paintings arrived here in 1779,

how important were they for Catherine?

Were they indeed the cornerstone of the collection she was building up?

Of course, Catherine had an obsession about art.

I mean, she admitted herself that she wasn't a great lover of art,

she was a glutton.

All of it, at once!

'Today, Walpole's paintings are no longer displayed together.

'You have to search for them because they have been distributed around

'the Hermitage to fit in with the other collections.

'Tucked away in an unassuming corner,

'hangs a work that, in Walpole's possession,

'was loaded with extra significance.'

Here's the self-portrait by Jacob Jordaens,

there he is on the left, with his family,

his father, his mother, brothers and sisters, I suppose.

A wonderful collection of characters

and one of Walpole's earliest acquisitions, 1722.

He was making a point when he got this that he was going to put

together a collection of the highest standard, this was a major work.

It was displayed in the great room of Downing Street,

so the whole world who came to the Prime Minister's office and house

would see this, a real proclamation of intent

of building up one of the world's great collections.

A wonderful piece.

'One of Walpole's greatest treasures is easy to miss

'hanging above a doorway.'

Ah, well, one of my favourite paintings, although I suppose

it's most people's favourite painting. It's lovely, isn't it?

Paris Bordone shows Flora and Venus,

emblematic figures of love, of course,

peace, plenty, fertility.

Together there, absolutely delightful young women,

shouldering Mars out of the way.

Mars is war, there is Mars on the right,

and above the two girls floats Cupid, so love reinforced.

A wonderful painting for him,

a prosperous Prime Minister to have in his private apartments,

symbolising, of course, commerce, peace,

the banishment of strife.

'I'm also here to meet art historian Thierry Morel,

'the go-between who has brokered the agreement

'between the Hermitage and Houghton Hall.

'There was one painting in particular

'that Thierry was determined to see return to Norfolk.'

So, tell me about the painting, and why this one?

So this painting was very important to Walpole.

In fact he had two Salvator Rosa's, this one is the largest and biggest,

and also at the time a very valuable painting, he paid £500 for it.

-Which was a lot.

-It's one of the most expensive paintings.

That one could have built a large, sumptuous town house

in Mayfair in the 1740s, say.

I suppose the story of The Prodigal Son

is one of redemption and forgiveness.

-He is here showing repentance.

-Yeah.

-He has been given his inheritance and has wasted it away.

-Yes.

This painting also, in a way, has become emblematic

of the collection. This is what people remember.

When the grandson, George, is undertaking the sale,

which is outrageous to many people, this image of The Prodigal Son

is used for cartoons.

Do you remember the cartoon I mean?

Yes, it's him kneeling in the same position.

So the cartoon shows George kneeling,

stripped of his grandeur and wealth, almost asking for forgiveness

for this great crime of selling the collection abroad.

So this is The Immaculate Conception by Murillo.

It was hanging in the saloon, we know that,

and we know exactly where it was.

It was on the left-hand side of the fireplace.

Fascinating, the left-hand side.

So we see now this is the picture exactly as it was in Houghton

with the original Kent frame.

So here we have vine leaves, grapes, so it's convivial,

so it's all part of a room of entertainment.

And Murillo was the most famous Spanish artist at the time, you see,

and this picture that Sir Robert was very keen to obtain.

So he sent emissaries to Spain and said,

"I want the best version of that picture."

So this is again for him connoisseurship,

this is purely a brilliant painting by a brilliant painter, he wants it.

-He wanted the best.

-The best, right.

Did he have many religious paintings?

He had largely religious paintings.

And that again is the taste of the time, rather than his...

No, it's his taste. I think he really had a taste for religious paintings.

This is a Catholic image, it's fascinating to be hanging in the home of the Prime Minister,

who was a great defender of Protestant and Whig values.

I just can't understand...

Well, you see, the thing is that's art for you.

-He was keen to collect the best pieces of art.

-Yeah.

'Walpole's Catholic taste was not confined to images of the Virgin.

'Incredibly, his collection even included pictures of the Pope.'

-In fact there were two popes in the collection.

-Two popes!

Yes, one by Maratta and the other one by Velazquez.

He's got a very direct stare.

It's a fabulous portrait. It was done towards the end of his life,

he was almost dying, but you see this penetrating gaze

and you almost feel like he is next to you.

-And of course this is an artist that Walpole absolutely loved.

-Yes.

-Horace wrote and said, "This is my father's favourite artist."

-Yeah.

We have to bear in mind that for Walpole, Maratta

was more or less a contemporary artist, it was a modern art.

Well, yes, Maratta died in 1715, yes, Walpole could have known him.

It's amazing, this is a portrait of a man of power,

a great patron of the arts, a great collector.

It's almost a portrait of Walpole himself, isn't it?

'The fact that the Walpole Collection has remained largely together

'is a miracle, given Russia's turbulent history.

'It has survived revolution, civil war, siege and bombardment

'during the Second World War, and years of Soviet upheaval.

'And most of the Walpole paintings that aren't here

'are still in Russia adorning the interiors of former

'royal palaces and museums around the country.

'Even so, gathering together these paintings is quite an undertaking.

'And it's not always as simple as taking them off a wall.

'This extravagant Baroque building was once the summer residence of the Russian Tsars.

'Like the acquisition of the Walpole Collection,

'it reflects an appetite for the tastes of Western Europe,

'rather than traditional Russia.'

This rich elevation was created in the mid 18th century

by an Italian architect, Bartholomeo Rastrelli,

for the empress, Elizabeth I.

I love this Southern Italian, I suppose, ostentatious Baroque,

set in the snowy landscape of northern Europe.

It's so surprising and so utterly wonderful - tremendous colours.

'But today, this grand palace is the site of the most tricky

'operation of the whole project.

'Moving Old Masters is always risky,

'but this one poses extra problems.

'Fixed in the ceiling high above the main staircase

'is a stupendous canvas by the Italian artist Carlo Maratta,

'The Judgement of Paris.'

Gosh! Well, there it is, so high up.

I've been here before, but I didn't really noticed it before

as there is so much to see on this staircase.

Rococo plaster, the wonderful oriental pots,

and then at the top,

in the crowning place, the Carlo Maratta painting.

My God, this looks risky to me!

Those chaps are up there even now, taking out the screws

and the whole thing is going to come down.

'The canvas was installed in the ceiling

'after World War II

'when the badly-damaged palace was restored.

'Today is the first time it's come down since then.

'When negotiations started for it to return to Houghton,

'the Palace authorities were so nervous about damaging the picture

'they refused Thierry's request twice before finally relenting.

'Even now nobody is quite sure if it's going to work.'

I'll tell you, there is quite an atmosphere of tension and worry.

Of course, to take down such a wonderful piece,

that was put up, maybe, not very well,

whatever it is, 50 years ago.

I'm not quite sure how it was put there. I suppose, a few screws.

It's got an audience of anxious museum curators here.

The anxiety mounts. I think there's no-one's who...

No-one's got a plan for how to get the canvas down from the top

of the scaffold, there's no sort of cradle rigged up.

A bit of string, er, this guy is drilling some hooks into the canvas,

into the frame. I presume they are going to lower it on a bit of...

..well, string, down here.

There's not room to manoeuvre.

I think, they'll have to lower it down face-side

against the scaffolding.

It could be very dangerous, here it comes now and they are, my God!

You can hear the scratching.

OK, there is a guy down here with the string, keeping the face away,

pulling it to keep the face away from the scaffold poles.

It is now in the air with no human hands attached.

Ah...

I take it all back, brilliantly done,

they knew what they were doing, it was just me panicking.

'Safely down, the canvas is taken away to be prepared for its journey.

'The next time I see it,

'the painting will be once again hanging on the wall at Houghton.'

'A number of Walpole's paintings came here to Moscow

'after the Russian Revolution, when the capital

moved from Saint Petersburg.

'Then, as in Walpole's day, fine art bestowed status

'and a capital city needed a capital collection.

'In the Pushkin Museum is one of the Houghton highlights,

'Walpole's glorious celebration of drunkenness and nudity.'

This is the Bacchanalia by Rubens.

Walpole acquired it in 1726,

and originally it was displayed in his dressing room

at Downing Street, it then went to the Common Parlour at Houghton.

An amazing powerful image.

Here Silenus is, sort of, the epitome of

aged, drunken character,

supported by nymphs, who are actually satyrs,

look at their goats' legs,

pouring wine over this collapsed female satyr here.

Another woman here, suckling these monstrous babies

at her pendulous breasts,

an incredible image.

What's one to make of this in Walpole's perception?

Obviously a great work, by a great artist,

so a lot of credit to his collection.

But I can't help but think that it appealed to his sense of fun.

One thinks of these great convivial congresses at Houghton

where people would go down to hunt and drink,

political debate, networking.

So this is partly an evocation of that side

of Walpole's life at Houghton,

the drunkenness, the frolicking

and, um, misbehaviour.

'Sadly, the authorities have deemed the canvas too popular

with visitors to leave the museum.

'But the Pushkin also holds a work by one of the greatest artists

'collected by Walpole

'and this one is returning to Norfolk.'

The painting is now described as being of an elderly woman,

which is correct I'm sure.

It was a theme that Rembrandt

depicted on numerous occasions, representing the passage of time,

people at different stages of their lives.

But Walpole thought that this was a portrait of Rembrandt's wife,

which is interesting if one thinks of the meaning this painting

could have had for Walpole.

As he contemplated this he would no doubt

have thought of his own marriage arrangements, which were,

I suppose, typical of the 18th century, but a bit irregular.

He had a wife who lived in London mostly, and a mistress,

a long-term mistress, who tended to reside at Houghton.

But whatever the reading of this, Walpole is certain

this painting is of the highest quality,

and would have made it clear to all the high status of his collection

and his talent as a collector of fine works of art.

'My final destination in Russia is yet another royal residence.

'Pavlovsk is home to two Walpole paintings of particular interest,

'which are undergoing restoration,

'in readiness for their journey to Norfolk.'

Well, here we are in the conservation studio

and this is the pair of paintings by Jan Griffier,

a Dutch artist that Sir Robert acquired in about 1718,

as far as we know the earliest paintings in his great collection.

They are wonderful. They have views of a classical landscape,

the world of antiquity, the power of Rome.

This one with the great city, a lush and wonderful landscape,

an evocation of Pompeii before Pompeii had been discovered!

Incredible, temples, obelisks,

figures here contemplating it.

And here a very lovely touch -

Griffier.

He signed it as part of the architecture on this fountain.

And here, this was a great Roman-style temple,

but also with trade going on,

great ships arriving with goods

being put on the quay.

Again, fruit and vegetables and barter.

So classical architecture and trade. Wonderful.

A great insight, of course, into Walpole's tastes.

Now here are some telling details.

This ship has as its figurehead a lion that's crowned,

and here appears to be the Union Flag,

so a British ship, quite possible, because the artist didn't die

until 1718, by which time the Union Flag had been established.

This ship is firing a salute of all smoke,

presumably welcoming another British ship of trade arriving here.

So these British ships in this classical landscape,

it is clear that, for Walpole, Britain was the new Rome.

'Back at Houghton Hall,

'the magnificent State Rooms have been lying empty for almost a month.

'Some of them have been transformed.

'The old silk hangings of the White Drawing Room

'have been replaced with rich green velvet, as in Walpole's day.

'And now, at last, the pictures are arriving.

'More than 60 of them.

'They've reached the end of a long and risky journey

'by sea and by road,

'transported in a dozen climate-controlled lorries.

'And all done in the utmost secrecy and security.'

DOORS CREAK

'Thierry is visibly nervous as they come to be unpacked.'

For many months there were... I had so many anxieties,

one could be delayed and then the whole show is impossible.

So to see the first truck arriving exactly on schedule, and on time

with the curators happy, it's fabulous.

'More than 100 people have been involved in the huge operation.'

'The first job is to check for any damage,

scratches, scuffs and tears.

-That's in the surface.

-Yeah.

-What do you think? I think we could get rid of that.

-Yeah.

I think it's insect!

The pictures are somehow, sort of, coming back to life,

not that they were muted in the Hermitage,

but there are so many masterpieces that you really can't...

It's very difficult to isolate one in particular,

whereas here you feel that they were...

Yes, they are like returning to their home.

It's like a member of the family returning to see

their brothers and sisters.

'It's six weeks since I was last at Houghton.

'I wonder if this extraordinary project

will live up to expectations?'

I've not seen the house since my trip to Russia.

There's a sense of great anticipation.

For the first time in over 230 years

it should be possible to see the state rooms

as they were meant to be seen,

to get an insight into the world of Sir Robert Walpole

and to immerse myself in the taste of the early 18th century.

This is the Common Parlour.

The last time I was here it was empty and echoing.

Now it's transformed, wonderfully transformed,

the paintings are back.

In Walpole's time, Sir Robert's time, there were 27 paintings

hanging here towards the end of his life,

about the same number now.

So the feel is right, the number, the quantity

and...many are back where they would have been hanging.

That one, for example, the Teniers, the cook shop,

that's where that did hang in Sir Robert's lifetime.

Also, I observe the Grinling Gibbons, by Kneller ,

back where it was in Sir Robert's lifetime.

The great craftsman hanging between the swags which he'd carved.

You can imagine Sir Robert standing here very proudly

contemplating his creation looking

at this painting he'd bought.

And here, great to see,

this is the Rembrandt Portrait of an Old Lady.

I last saw this in the Pushkin Museum in Moscow,

a wonderful work, but terrific now to see it

in the sort of setting that the artist had in mind

when he painted it, a sumptuous domestic interior,

not an academic museum.

So really, these wonderful painting has regained meaning

by being put back in this sort of setting.

Lovely to see it again.

And here, another old friend...

..the lovely Jacob Jordaens,

the artist with his family.

It's a self-portrait with the people he loved.

It must have had a great meaning for Walpole this painting.

It shows, I'd say, a happy gathering of people,

in a very convivial setting.

Incredible.

So, a very historically important

room now reunited with a tremendously historically

important collection of paintings.

Very, very thrilling.

'The effect is overwhelming.

'With the return of the paintings,

'so many of the rooms in Houghton

'have regained their original meaning and visual punch.

'And here is the green velvet restored to the walls

'of the White Drawing Room,

'the perfect backdrop for the glorious Carlo Maratta canvases.

'This entire room was once dedicated to his works.

'Pride of place is given to The Judgement of Paris,

'safely back on the wall after half a century

'fixed in the ceiling of the Catherine Palace.'

Seeing Houghton like this, once again a temple of outstanding art,

it is easy to understand the impact the house had in Sir Robert's day.

Lord Harvey wrote about the house in 1731 to the Prince of Wales

and he was describing this floor as a place of taste,

expense, state and parade.

He was talking not just about the architecture

but about what the rooms contained,

the outstanding, beautiful works of art, such as this

terrific painting here by Bordone.

Flora and Venus shouldering Mars out of the way,

peace and plenty pushing war aside,

a great emblematic work.

And here...

the Salvator Rosa, The Prodigal Son above the fireplace.

And there by Murillo,

The Immaculate Conception,

an incredible painting this really because it's rising up

and essentially representing what happened here,

that became not just a wonderful piece of architecture,

but one of the, I suppose, most important,

artistically important, places on earth.

'Another 18th-century visitor wrote,

"The finishing of the inside is a pattern for all the great houses

"that may hereafter be built."

"The vast quantity of mahogany,

"the finest chimneys of statuary

"and other fine marbles.

"The ceilings in the modern taste,

"painted by Mr Kent and finely gilt.

"The furniture of the richest tapestry,

"the pictures hung on Genoa velvet and damask."

'This fine summer's evening is the grand opening of the exhibition.

'The great and the good, from Saint Petersburg to Norfolk,

'are here to witness an event few thought possible.

'The architecture, furniture and paintings of Houghton are reunited.

'To be here is to experience the very finest of 18th-century taste.'

How do you feel, I mean, presumably elated,

a certain amount of relief as well?

A great deal of relief, after three years of planning,

this is what we have been waiting for,

getting all the pictures up and being able to celebrate.

I think you can imagine, looking here tonight,

you can imagine back in the 1720s, 1730s,

Sir Robert's great gatherings, and the candles and the fires burning

and what it must have been like.

It's so true, of course, because having these paintings of the highest quality back

just reminds us exactly what an incredible creation this was in Sir Robert's day,

a temple to the arts full of the highest quality works of art.

Exactly. It's replacing the last piece in the jigsaw,

the lost jewel in the brooch, if you like, bringing the pictures back.

I suppose that if Sir Robert were looking down

he'd be delighted, wouldn't he, of what you have done?

And, of course, he is looking down

because of his bust in the stone hall looking very magnanimous in his Roman garb.

You feel he is sort of looking down tonight.

-Well, Thierry, it's happened.

-It's happened.

How do you feel about it?

I feel ecstatic.

Yes, it's one of the great joys of my life, I think.

In terms of the rooms, in terms of what the visitor is to expect,

this has the biggest punch, the Common Parlour,

almost as much, because it's got a lot of the paintings.

The Common Parlour has stellar pictures - you have the Velasquez the Rembrandt

and each picture is better than the next.

What you see when you come here is how discerning

a collector Robert was. He really picked the best.

'With launch night successfully achieved,

'now the house opens to the public.

'The pictures return to Russia later in the autumn.'

'There's one final piece of the jigsaw.

'Shortly after the treasures of the Walpole collection

'had safely arrived in Russia,

'a large package was delivered to Houghton Hall,

'What could it be?'

George opened it and discovered this.

As a token of her esteem, gratitude,

or simply of a transaction successfully concluded,

Catherine sent George a portrait of herself.

It has hung in Houghton ever since.

George is said to have been rather fond of it,

and perhaps as a token of his esteem,

he called his favourite racing dog, a bitch, Tsarina.

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