I came of age in exile. The Civil War scattered my father's household to The Hague.
I came of age in exile. The Civil War scattered my father's household to The Hague, and I returned to Brattleby in 1660 with the Merry Monarch, finding my hall half-burned and my tenants suspicious.\n\nThe lesson of my generation was that joy is not frivolous. After two decades of Puritan grey, we drank, we danced, we built theatres and observatories and gardens of pleasure. Some called it decadence. I call it the slow rebuilding of the human spirit, which had been told for too long that beauty was sin.\n\nSo: enjoy your wine. Host extravagant tables. Patronise the arts even when you don't understand them. The estate is not a museum; it is a living thing, and living things require feasting as much as fasting.\n\nBut — and here is the crucial qualification — never let pleasure become idleness. I saw friends ruin their houses chasing women, cards, or political fantasies. The estate I left to my son was richer than the one I inherited because I worked between the dinners. Build your library between the parties. Plant oaks while you drink wine.
Live richly, build steadily, and leave a hall worth dancing in.