It was a huge long room with many windows opening upon the park, and
each window--there were a dozen or more reaching from the floor up--had
its elaborate silk or satin curtains, heavily fringed, a canopy (is it?)
above, its completely white shutters folding into the deep thickness of
the wall. At either end of that great still place was an immense marble
chimney-piece; the end by the bookcase showed the wolf and Romulus and
Remus, with Homer and Virgil for supporters; the design of the other end
I have forgotten. Frederick, Prince of Wales, swaggered flatly over the
one, twice life-size, but mellowed by the surface gleam of oil; and
over the other was an equally colossal group of departed Drews as sylvan
deities, scantily clad, against a storm-rent sky. Down the centre of the
elaborate ceiling were three chandeliers, each bearing some hundreds of
dangling glass lustres, and over the interminable carpet--it impressed
me as about as big as Sarmatia in the store-room Atlas--were islands and
archipelagoes of chintz-covered chairs and couches, tables, great Sevres
vases on pedestals, a bronze man and horse.
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