HE has seen his father reviled, his name blackened at the Old Bailey and his fortunes squashed beneath £400 million of debt.

But yesterday the youngest son of the late Robert Maxwell faced perhaps his greatest humiliation: opening up the family home to bargain hunters for an everything-must-go jumble sale. Kevin and Pandora Maxwell’s “garage sale” began at 7:30am at Moulsford Manor, near Cholsey in Oxfordshire, the 11-bedroom pile bought for the couple in 1994 by Mrs Maxwell’s father.

Faced with more than £3 million of debt and after several appearances at Oxford County Court this summer, the couple have sold the house for £2.5 million. They must be out by Friday. A vast and bewildering array of knick-knacks were offered to all comers.

The crowd of neighbours and car-boot sale aficionados who arrived at the crack of dawn found Robert Maxwell’s sporran and kilt, 25 separate Russian doll sets, a kayak, a rowing boat, Pandora’s red Mini Cooper, a large wooden door imported from Oman and small bags of rags at 20p a pop.

Only his father’s old army uniform was considered too dear to part with — as buyers crowded into the house and into a marquee hired for the occasion, Mr Maxwell surreptitiously slapped a sold sign on Captain Robert Maxwell’s Second World War tunic. “It is just too sentimental to sell,” Mrs Maxwell said.

She was growing stressed. “I keep wanting to burst into tears,” she said. “It’s the logistics. My family say I don’t delegate enough but nothing happens unless I do it.”

As the morning progressed the kilt and sporran were snapped up by a museum for £750, one of two Swedish wooden settles went for £300 and the kayak for £15. A Mrs Baker, from Lower Basildon, Berkshire, left with a chest of drawers. A neighbour, who did not want to be named, said she had seen a sign for the sale in the village and thought it might be a good place to find cheap furniture for her son to stock his student house. “I am just very surprised that this is all happening to the Maxwells,” she said.

Tom Brooke-Taylor, 29, of Windsor, said: “I got a Peter Pan board game. They wanted £5 but I got it for £3. I also got some wind chimes for 50p each.” He added: “I saw a very tatty blue armchair go for about £120. There was a big rush in the morning, then they all went off to car-boot sales.”

Presiding over the haggling hordes, Mrs Maxwell finally managed a Buddhist-style detachment from her worldly goods. “You have to keep a grip on the the fact that it is only stuff,” she said. “What you see on sale today is only 10 per cent of what we must dispose of. The rest is going to auction.”

Later, when only a woman from across the river was left rifling through her chattels, she said: “I think we raised over £1,000. It’s enough to pay the removal men, but we have still got an enormous amount of stuff here. I’ll put some on eBay and give the rest away.”

Six of the Maxwells’ seven children were roped in to help. “All this has been a bit of an upheaval,” said Ella, 17, who was selling porcelain dolls. “Myself and my younger sister Chloe have taken it the hardest.”

Mr Maxwell remained tight-lipped about his £3 million-plus debts. “Moving is always stressful and I will be happy when it’s over,” he said, adding: “No, I won’t miss this place.”

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