Memorial Service: Christopher Gibbs James Hughes-onslow

The Lord Great Chamberlain, the Marquess of Cholmondeley, looked flustered as he prepared to give a reading for Christopher Gibbs, the late aesthete, antiques dealer and collector, in St James’s, Piccadilly.

He stepped up to the lectern, then stepped back, turned around and walked back to his pew, tapping his pockets. He had lost his notes. Helped by others, he looked under the seat and found them. The congregation looked as relieved as he was when he returned to the lectern.

Cholmondeley explained that Gibbs wanted no eulogies – which was odd, given that Gibbs was an accomplished eulogist himself. It was said that he knew how much work was involved and he didn’t want to inflict this on anyone else.

‘These few readings chosen for the service may make us think about the many different facets of his life, and be a reflection of his spirit and philosophy, as well as his taste, his sense of humour and his unique way of looking at the world.’

The Marquess quoted a letter Gibbs had written on board Talitha G in Majorca as a guest of Sir Paul Getty, former owner of The Oldie, in September 2001 shortly after the 9/11 attacks.

‘How can these things be done in the name of Allah, the compassionate, the merciful?’ wrote Gibbs. ‘I go for long swims in these rolling waters, reflecting on the events and attitudes that have over centuries shaped them happening. I think of the wonder of the way that Muslim, Jew and Christian coexisted in Morocco when the Arab hordes poured into Spain.’

The Rev Lucy Winkett said it was her task to preach a sermon, not a eulogy, ‘knowing that his faith was deep and enduring, sustaining him especially in Tangier as well as London’.

She said a prayer, thanking God ‘for Christopher’s great talent, the gift of making things beautiful. His appreciation of beauty and love of nature, wild things and wild places.’

Christopher’s nephew Hugo Gibbs read from 1 Corinthians 13: ‘Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.’

Victoria Getty read from John Betjeman’s poem Churchyards.

Afterwards, during tea at Christie’s nearby, a still life of roses and apples by Samuel John Peploe, valued at £250,000-£350,000, fell off the wall. Christopher’s friends suggested that he might have taken it with him. JAMES HUGHES-ONSLOW