Notes on the Art Treasures at Penicuik House Midlothian

In Short

This book functions as an elegant, room-by-room inventory of the art collection housed at Penicuik House in Midlothian, Scotland. By meticulously cataloging the portraits, etchings, and architectural curiosities belonging to the Clerk family, the narrative reconstructs the history of a dynasty deeply entwined with Scottish letters, politics, and industry. It serves as both a scholarly record and a biographical survey, demonstrating how the Clerks utilized their wealth and status to foster a vibrant intellectual community, bridging the divide between the Scottish Enlightenment and the practical realities of their time.

The Story

The narrative begins by establishing the pedigree of the Clerks of Penicuik, a family whose influence spanned two centuries. Rather than a linear biography, the story unfolds as a curated walk through the halls of the family mansion. We are introduced to the founder, John Clerk—known in family lore as "Musso"—whose success as a merchant in Paris allowed him to establish the estate. From these foundations, the narrative traces the rise of his descendants, particularly the second Baronet, Sir John Clerk, whose restless intellect drew him into the company of the era’s most brilliant minds, from Dutch scientists to Scottish poets.

The account moves through the house, pausing before specific portraits to unpack the lives they represent. We encounter the "stout old gentleman" Sir John, a man of such multifaceted interests that he studied law, music, and drawing under masters in Leyden. His life is framed as the pivot point of the family’s identity: a man who managed estates, served as a Commissioner for the Union, and cultivated friendships with thinkers like the physician Herman Boerhaave. As we move from room to room, the portraits serve as anchors for broader historical observations—the transition from the austere portraits of the 17th century to the more expressive, romantic works of the 18th century, such as those by Raeburn.

The narrative reaches its emotional and artistic peak with the discussion of the "prime artistic treasure" of the house: a Raeburn painting of the fifth Baronet and his wife, Rosemary Dacre. The author weaves a romantic, old-world story around Rosemary’s birth, linking it to the upheaval of the 1745 Jacobite rising, which imbues the portrait with a layer of mythic significance. This focus on the "intimate charm" of the family’s history is balanced by technical discussions of their collection, which includes etchings by John Clerk of Eldin—a man whose work on naval tactics and geology reflects the family’s characteristic versatility.

The arc concludes by looking outward at the broader circle surrounding the Clerks. The book documents their relationships with painters like Alexander Runciman, who decorated the estate’s "Ossian Hall," and their connections to broader political figures. By the final pages, the house itself emerges as a living repository of human endeavor. The narrative ends not with a sense of closure, but with a lingering appreciation for the house as a vessel of memory, where the "awful faces of other times" continue to gaze down from the walls, preserving the legacy of a family that was both a patron of the arts and a central participant in the history of Scotland.

How It Unfolds

The architectural prologue The tour begins outside the mansion, where the author examines the eccentric stable-yard structures, including a steeple built out of personal stubbornness and a Roman-inspired dome. These oddities immediately signal the Clerks' penchant for blending classical learning with individual character.

The gallery of the founders The focus shifts to the Dining-room, where the earliest family portraits are displayed. The author describes the transition from miniature oil paintings on bloodstone to the life-sized works of the early 18th century, grounding the family's history in the changing techniques of portraiture.

The scholar’s education The narrative pivots to the second Baronet, using his personal diaries and letters to reconstruct his formative years in Leyden. This section details his artistic training and the lifelong intellectual bonds he forged with European luminaries.

The romantic centerpiece The author provides a detailed reading of the Raeburn portrait of the fifth Baronet and Rosemary Dacre. The focus moves from the technical mastery of the light to the romantic, almost legendary story of the lady’s origin during the 1745 uprising.

The intersection of art and science The tour concludes in the library and corridors, exploring the etchings of John Clerk of Eldin and the ceiling paintings of Alexander Runciman. These final chapters illustrate the family’s synthesis of scientific curiosity and aesthetic ambition.

The People

The family’s history is anchored by the "stout old gentleman" Sir John Clerk (the second Baronet), the most potent figure in the narrative. Driven by an insatiable intellectual hunger, he seeks to master law, music, and art, yet he is constrained by the duty of his public offices and the shifting political climate of Scotland. He emerges as a man who manages to bridge the gap between private curiosity and public service.

His descendant, John Clerk of Eldin, represents the family’s flair for the technical and the scientific. Whether he is etching historical buildings or theorizing on naval warfare, he possesses a "vigorous and active mind" that refuses to be confined to a single discipline. He appears as a man of great energy, often caught in the crossfire of professional debates, yet always returning to his creative pursuits.

Rosemary Dacre provides the emotional heart of the story. While her existence is defined by the romantic, slightly mysterious circumstances of her birth, she becomes an enduring figure of grace within the family portraiture. Her presence serves as a reminder of the personal, human dimension that persists beneath the layers of historical and political data. These figures are surrounded by a cast of friends, such as the physician Herman Boerhaave and the painter Alexander Runciman, who help validate the family's status as a central hub of Scottish cultural life.

In Its Own Voice

The author describes the family’s long-standing, active participation in the intellectual life of their home:

But not only have the Clerks been themselves witty—using the word in its best, its old English, sense—they have been the cause of wit in others; by their loyal friendships with the best Scottish painters and poets of their time, and their open-handed patronage of these men’s work, they have identified themselves with the history of art and literature in Scotland.

The author reflects on the power of a single moment captured in a portrait:

“A lip’s mere tremble,

Looks half hesitation, cheeks just change of colour,” at once crystallise intensest emotion and afford its fullest expression, and sign and seal a human soul with final impress of success or failure?

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of legacy. It asks how a family can function as a custodian of culture, transforming private wealth into public intellectual value. The house serves as a metaphor for the mind: a place where disparate interests—geology, naval tactics, music, and classical architecture—coexist in the same space. The central argument is that the "treasures" of Penicuik are not merely the paintings themselves, but the evidence they provide of a life lived with curiosity and purpose. It questions the relationship between the ephemeral nature of human life and the permanence of art, ultimately suggesting that the Clerks’ true contribution was not just the patronage of art, but the cultivation of a specific, inquisitive way of engaging with the world.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy a slow, immersive walk through history will find this an rewarding experience. It is a book that demands patience, rewarding the reader who is willing to linger over descriptions of portraits as if they were standing before the canvas themselves. It feels like a private tour guided by someone who is intimately familiar with every crack in the wainscoting and every inscription on a frame.

The book is not without its difficulties. The prose is dense with references to figures and events that require some background knowledge of Scottish history to fully appreciate, and the author’s tone reflects the somewhat deferential, scholarly attitude of the late 19th century. There is little in the way of dramatic narrative, and the reader expecting a fast-paced story may find the catalog-like structure slow. However, for those interested in the history of art, the evolution of estate life, or the intellectual history of Scotland, the book offers a rare, granular view of a world that is otherwise lost to time. It captures the specific, dusty charm of a library filled with letters from great men and the quiet, enduring beauty of a portrait that has survived for centuries, leaving the reader with a poignant sense of the persistence of human memory.