I 
 
mm 
 
EXCURSIONS 
 
 FROM 
 
 BATH. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 Rev** Richard Warner. 
 
 PRICE 8S, 
 
EXCURSIONS ^ 
 
 FROM 
 
 BATH. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 Rev** Richard Warner. 
 
 «' Ea sub oculis posita negligimus ; proximorum incuriosi, longinqua 
 11 se&amur." 
 
 PLIN. 
 
 " Abroad, to see wonders, the traveller goes, 
 
 " And neglefts the fine things that lie under his nosey 
 
 BATH, PRINTED BY R. CRUTTWELL) 
 AND SOLD BY 
 
 G. G. AND J. ROBINSON, PATER-NO STER-R O W. LONDON, 
 
 1801. 
 
EXCURSION I. 
 
 LETTER L 
 
 To JAMES COMRIE, ESQ. 
 
 dear sir, Bath, Sept. 1st, 1800* 
 
 "VJTOU have imposed upon me so arduous a 
 task, that I feel an almost insuperable 
 diffidence at attempting to perform it. When 
 I led you through the wild scenery of Wales, 
 I proceeded without fear or hesitation; my 
 work was easy; I had little else to do than to 
 
[ 2 ] 
 
 describe the face which Nature wears in that 
 incomparable country, where the features are 
 in general so strong and well defined, that I 
 must have been a miserable painter indeed, had 
 my portrait been altogether without resem- 
 blance. Besides, I had the field to myself, my 
 plan had not been anticipated, and my letters 
 consequently borrowed some interest and re- 
 commendation from novelty; but in the pre- 
 sent case I see formidable difficulties on every 
 side. Here I must exchange the simplicity of 
 Nature for the intricacies of Art ; and descend 
 from the grand to the minute ; from the moun- 
 tain, the precipice, and the cataraft, original 
 manners and ancient customs, to the park and to 
 the pi£lure gallery, to the refinements of luxury, 
 and the elegancies of polished life. Innumerable 
 examples of virtu, and exquisite specimens of the 
 fine arts, present themselves for description ; and 
 what is still more deterring, a line is chalked out 
 for me, a great part of which has already been 
 trodden by taste and science, by a Gilpin and a 
 Maton. Your requests, however, have with me 
 always the force of commands; I hasten, there- 
 fore, to comply with them, and to lead you 
 through a part of Wiltshire, in an excursion which 
 must prove highly gratifying to you, if I am 
 
[ 3 1 
 
 fortunate enough to convey a tolerably accurate 
 idea of the many beauties which it exhibits. 
 
 The approach to Bath, on the west side, had 
 for ages been down a steep rugged concavity, 
 part of the Roman fosse road from Bath to 
 Ilchester, called Holloway, a name sufficiently 
 indicative of its nature and appearance. Mo- 
 dern improvements have enabled the traveller 
 to avoid this unpleasant descent, by carrying a 
 circuitous road through the fields to the north- 
 west of it, which meets the old way on the 
 brow of the hill above. I mean not, however, 
 to avail myself of this convenience, but to pur- 
 sue the ancient road, as, although it be the 
 residence of squalor and poverty, it will not- 
 withstanding repay us for the labour of our 
 ascent by some objefts of curiosity. 
 
 To pass Holloway, indeed, without notice, 
 would be in some degree an insult to Bath, 
 since it is a legitimate child of that city, and 
 connefled with it by the ties of interest and 
 gratitude, as well as of relationship. , Upwards 
 of four hundred years ago, the priory of Bath 
 sent a small party of monks, and the city a little 
 colony of citizens, to Holloway ; and in modern 
 times, she has continued, with maternal care, 
 to lend her fostering support to her offspring 
 
C * ] 
 
 and its inhabitants. This vill reckons about 
 seventy houses, which, for the most part, with 
 the exception of some decent mansions, are 
 small, mean, and wretched, consisting of petty 
 chandlers' shops, dirty pot-houses, slop-sellers' 
 residences, and that necessary adjundt to po- 
 verty, a pawn-broker's shop, which, by the bye, 
 under the auspices of its three balls, the ex- 
 pressive emblem of the trade within, [two to one 
 that the pledges will never be redeemed) wears 
 a greater aspeft of respeftability than any of 
 its neighbours. Contemptible, however, as 
 these mansions may appear to be,, they not- 
 withstanding afford a temporary asylum to a 
 very numerous tribe of travellers, who, with 
 the regularity of true fashionable felicity-hun- 
 ters, pay their constant visits to the city of 
 Bath, during the gay and crouded seasons of 
 winter and spring. These personages, though 
 they exhibit in their figures every malady and 
 defeft to which the human frame is liable, do 
 not appear to resort to the city of healing waters 
 for the aid of its springs, or the benefits of its 
 baths, but with a profane diffidence in the skill 
 of our physicians, or a perverse contempt of the 
 efficacy of our Therm*, they boldly discard every 
 physical system, and place their hopes- of relief 
 
[ 5 ] 
 
 in exercise alone. In pursuance of this plan, 
 you see them pacing the streets of the city 
 with patient perseverance from morning till 
 night, and braving all the inclemencies of the 
 weather, in spite of .the diseases "with which 
 they are afflifled. Nay, they carry their im- 
 prudence even further, observing, for the most 
 part, the utmost carelessness with regard to 
 cloatkingi and maugre the pelting shower or 
 piercing wind, pursue their ambulations in a 
 state as nearly approaching to nudity as the 
 evening undress of a modern girl of fashion. 
 Though from this singular conduct, which is so 
 contrary to that of the generality of Bath visi- 
 tors, and which (despising common opinions 
 and modes of praftice) argues a sort of inde- 
 pendence both in thinking and a£iing, we 
 might imagine the personages under considera- 
 tion would not stoop to communicate with 
 those who are still held by the trammels of 
 prejudice, yet this is by no means the case; on 
 the contrary, availing themselves of that facility 
 of forming acquaintance which characterises 
 this city, they kindly accost every body they 
 meet in the street, offer up prayers for their 
 welfare, entrust them with their family secrets^ 
 -cind, as the strongest proof of confidence an4 
 
C 6 ] 
 
 friendship, conclude their harangues with a fa- 
 miliar request of trifling pecuniary boons. 
 
 By this time, I presume, you have dete£ted 
 my aenigma, and perceive that I allude to the 
 respe&able community of Beggars; a race, of 
 people not peculiar indeed to Bath, but found 
 here in a much more numerous proportion than 
 in any other place in the kingdom. As the 
 season in which the city fills with visitors ap- 
 proaches, these gentry flock to Holloway, and 
 safe from the fangs of the beadle and the con- 
 stable, (for the Mayor's jurisdiction does not 
 extend to this place) they glide from their aerial 
 entrenchments into the different streets of 
 Bath, and levy contributions upon the feelings 
 of the charitable to a considerable amount. 
 
 As the trade of Bath depends in a great degree 
 upon the visitors to its springs, so the commerce 
 of Holloway is entirely kept alive by the de- 
 mands of the beggars, who arrive here at stated 
 times in the year; and I have been informed, 
 by a respeclable wholesale and retail dealer in 
 the grocery line in Bath, that the orders of the 
 chandlers' shops for goods in this receptacle of 
 mendicants are constantly double just previous 
 to the seasons, to what they are at any other 
 periods. As exact a system, also, is preserved 
 
[ 7 ] 
 
 with respect to the rates of lodging at Hollo- 
 way, as in its splendid parent; if in the latter 
 there be different prices for the drawing-room 
 and the bed-chamber, the parlour and the kit- 
 chen; so in the former are there variations in 
 the charges for more and less comfortable lodg- 
 ing, for better and worse accommodation. 
 Thus, for instance, the poor beggar who has 
 been unfortunate in his avocation, and cannot 
 afford the luxury of a bed, pays one penny per 
 night for the privilege of sitting up in a room, 
 the common dormitory of this lowest order of 
 mendicants ; the sum of two-pence entitles the 
 lodger to a pallet and a blanket; whilst the 
 luxurious, jolly, and successful beggar reposes 
 his remaining limbs in a pair of sheets, at the 
 increased charge of four-pence. 
 
 Lightly, however, as I have treated this sub- 
 je6t, I notwithstanding consider the inundation 
 of mendicants, who spread themselves from 
 this fertile hive through the streets of Bath, as 
 the greatest of those very few evils which at- 
 tach to the city, and as highly deserving the 
 vigilance and attention of its magistracy to 
 remedy or prevent. The exposition of maimed 
 limbs and chronic sores in the streets is a tax 
 upon the feelings of the public, which in a 
 
C * ] 
 
 country so amply providing for the poor and 
 the distressed as that in which we live, should 
 not be endured. Though sufficiently inclined 
 to commiserate the situation of the lower or- 
 ders of society, for whose hardships I feel, and 
 whose privations I deplore, I am yet free to 
 confess, that my compassion is not much ex- 
 cited by the itinerant beggar and clamorous 
 mendicant, because I consider these rather as 
 volunteers in the profession, than as compelled 
 to it by necessity. In England, parochial pro- 
 vision is held out to all the wretched, with cer- 
 tain reasonable restri&ions of liberty, or easy 
 impositions of labour; and none are so destitute 
 -of an asylum, provided for them by law, as to 
 be obliged to importune the public for a pit- 
 tance to preserve them from starvation. Be- 
 sides, I look upon the mendicant trade as an 
 infringement upon- the rights of a much more 
 pitiable and deserving class of the community, 
 the labouring poor. The hand of charity is tired, 
 and its ability exhausted, by the repeated 
 donations which the obstinate perseverence of 
 the street-beggar extorts from the passenger ; 
 whilst the sentiment of compassion is at length 
 blunted, by discovering (as is too frequently 
 the case) that it has been excited by the im- 
 
[ 9 ] 
 
 postor and the ingrate ; and thus those bounties 
 are withheld, and feelings checked, which 
 would otherwise have been directed to the 
 relief of industrious wretchedness or unfortu- 
 nate desert. 
 
 But our quarrel with Holloway does not 
 terminate here, it wounds our sensibility in 
 another shape, and exhibits scenes of oppres- 
 sion which humanity can only vainly lament, as 
 legal ordinances unfortunately are inadequate 
 to the prevention of them. Together with shel- 
 ter for the beggar, it affords a nofturnal retreat 
 for a much more useful class of beings, the 
 animals employed in the conveyance of coals 
 from the pits to Bath. Wearied and panting 
 with the labour of the day, here the wretched 
 beasts are driven by crouds, as the even- 
 ing closes, into yards hired for the purpose, not 
 so much for the sake of rewarding their services 
 with rest, as to prevent their escape from the toil 
 of the morrow. As they pick a scanty pittance 
 from the ditches and hedges during the day, 
 the inhuman master thinks himself exempted 
 from the necessity of giving them food at night; 
 and what is still more barbarous, never removes 
 from their backs the heavy and incumbering 
 wooden saddle on which the coals are packed, 
 
t 10 ] 
 
 but suffers it to continue girded on for weeks 
 together, inflaming and increasing those galls 
 which its pressure originally occasioned. The 
 meek and unresisting are the objects on which 
 cruelty and cowardice most delight to exercise 
 their tyranny, for reasons sufficiently obvious; 
 and the unfortunates is chiefly employed in the 
 business of transporting the coals from the pits 
 to the city. Full oft has my heart bled for this 
 little, wasted, panting wretch, staggering under 
 its unconscionable burthen, and labouring up 
 the steep streets of Bath ; now dropping with 
 fatigue, and again urged to exertion by reite- 
 rated blows. Inhumanity in every shape is 
 odious to the feeling bosom, but it never as- 
 sumes so much deformity as when exercised 
 against the helpless and the patient; nor is 
 honest indignation ever more praise-worthy, 
 than when it is levelled at the tyrant in the 
 little way. As the law, however, unhappily 
 does not in this case come in aid to the na- 
 tural emotion, (since it makes no provision for 
 the punishment of those who force their beasts 
 to disproportionate labour, or treat with severity 
 the animals by which they get their bread) all 
 that we can do is to endeavour to alleviate the 
 lot of the sufferers, by persuading the proprie- 
 
C n ] 
 
 tors that their interest is conne£ted with the 
 better treatment of their beasts. Should this 
 method fail, I know of no other chord to touch 
 that will vibrate to our wishes; we must be 
 content to console ourselves with the rational 
 idea for which a benevolent character, not 
 many years since, was anathematized, that 
 brutes, also, have their disproportion of tempo- 
 ral misery to enjoyment, regulated and made up 
 to them by a future state ; or if we consider this 
 as heterodox, we may learn at least a lesson of 
 patient endurance under inevitable evil, of re- 
 signation under the incidental ills of mortality, 
 from the more than philosophic ass, whose 
 characteristic meekness Mr. Crowe has so beau- 
 tifully and pathetically described: 
 
 <e Meek animal ! whose simple mien 
 " Provokes th* insulting eye of spleen 
 " To mock the melancholy trait 
 " Of patience on thy front display'd; 
 " By thy great Maker fitly so pourtray'd, 
 " To character the sorrows of thy fate ! 
 
 w Say, heir of misery, what to thee 
 
 " Is life ? — A long, long, dreary round, 
 
 u Through the sad vale of labour and of pain; 
 
 €C Nor pleasure hath thy youth, nor rest thine age, 
 
 Nor in the vasty round of this terrene 
 " Hast thou a friend to set thee free, - 
 
 / 
 
[ I* ] 
 
 " Till death perhaps too late, 
 " In the dark evening of thy chearless day, 
 <e Shall take thee, fainting on thy way, 
 u From the rude storm of unresisted hate ! 
 
 <c Yet dare the erroneous croud to mark 
 
 * e With folly thy despised race; 
 
 " Th' ungovernable pack who bark 
 
 <e With impious howl in Hea v'n's awful face ; 
 
 " If e'er on their impatient head 
 
 " Affliction's bitter shower be shed. 
 
 « But 'tis the folly of thy kind, 
 
 " Meekly to bear th* inevitable sway; 
 
 " The wisdom of the human mind 
 
 <e Is to murmur and obey." 
 
 The gloom of the pi£ture which Holloway 
 presents, is in some degree enlivened and re- 
 lieved by a little edifice, founded in the spirit 
 of christian charity, and bearing testimony to 
 the benevolence of a prior of the monastery of 
 Bath,* it is called Magdalen Chapel; and, 
 together with an old dwelling near it, formerly 
 constituted a foundation for the reception and 
 support of lunatics. In after-times the institu- 
 tion was in some degree altered, and the house 
 appropriated to pauper ideots only ; to their 
 use it Would be at present applied, if any un- 
 fortunate beings of that description could be 
 
 * < John Cantlow, who built it in 1 3 3 2. 
 
[ 13 J 
 
 found; but strange to say, Bath exhibits no 
 examples of ideotcy ! Had the hospital indeed 
 continued to fulfil its original intention, I dare 
 aver you think, that we should have had no 
 difficulty in stocking it with patients from a 
 city which is universally allowed, by mamas 
 and guardians, more calculated to turn the brain 
 than any other place in Europe. The chapel, 
 k neat little Gothic building and elegantly 
 hooded with ivy, would form a very picturesque 
 objeft, if it stood distin6l from the habitations 
 in its neighbourhood. 
 
 On our emersion from Holloway, the city 
 of Bath presents itself to the eye, magnificent 
 from the grandeur of its buildings and the dis- 
 position of its streets, and elegant from the 
 materials made use of in their erection. These 
 materials are exhibited to us on each side the 
 road as we proceed, in the large and inex- 
 haustible quarries which either have been 
 worked or are now working, and which stretch 
 in every dire£Hon round the city - y the rich re- 
 positories of fossils and spars, of great variety 
 and equal beauty. The circle of hills which 
 rise round Bath consist of limestone, each vary- 
 ing from the other indeed, in some degree, 
 with respe£t to the texture of its stone and the 
 
[ 14 ] 
 
 disposition of its strata ; but the whole exhi- 
 biting an oolithe, or granulated egg-like stone, 
 soft and easily worked when cut from the bed, 
 but gradually indurating, and admirably cal- 
 culated for the purposes of architecture; an 
 incalculable advantage to the inhabitants of 
 Bath, who by these means are enabled to exe- 
 cute their building speculations with an article 
 incomparably more beautiful and durable thai! 
 brick, at less expence than the builders of 
 other places must hazard in carrying on their 
 w T orks with that inferior material. 
 
 The glance which is caught of the romantic 
 valley of Lyncombe, shortly after passing the 
 one-mile stone, is as pleasing as unexpe£ted. 
 The country on the left suddenly sinks into a 
 deep depression, which carries the eye through 
 a winding bottom, shaded with wood, orna- 
 mented, but not loaded, with neat mansions, 
 diversified with meadows, plats, and gardens, 
 and terminated by the Gothic tower of Wid- 
 combe church, partially appearing through a 
 mass of shade. Amongst the houses, that called 
 the Spa may be distinguished, a name which 
 it received from the discovery of a mineral 
 spring on the spot in the year 1737. The vic- 
 tims of pain and sickness, who are naturally 
 
[ 15 ] 
 
 a&ive to try every remedy likely to relieve their 
 sufferings, resorted to the place for some few 
 years; and it was said, that the stone and gravel 
 were mitigated by the use of these waters. But 
 their reputation did not continue long enough 
 to authorise us to infer, that it was built upon 
 any fair claim to utility ; they have been long 
 disused, and the house is now a private resi- 
 dence. On the rapid western slope of this 
 dale is also seen a mansion formerly called 
 King James's Palace, dedicated, till within these 
 few years, to the purposes of public entertain- 
 ment. It received its name, if we may believe 
 tradition, from having afforded a retreat for 
 some months to James II. when his folly Iqst 
 him the crown of Britain. Here, it is said, 
 the monarch, in the silence of retirement, 
 brooded over his ruined fortunes, and lamented 
 the consequences of an improper attachment 
 to high-flown notions of royal prerogative, to 
 irrational bigotry, and inflexible severity; an 
 awful lesson to kings of the danger of abusing 
 the confidence of a generous people, and of the 
 fatal extremities to which national indignation, 
 if once excited, maybe carried. 
 
 Quitting the Warminster road, we turn to 
 the right about two miles from Bath, and drop 
 
[ «S ] 
 
 down a steep hill, on the southern declivity of 
 which is situated the rural village of South- 
 Stoke, commanding an extensive view of the 
 adjoining county of Wilts. At a short distance 
 from hence, in the bottom below, we meet with 
 the canal y 2i recent undertaking, intended to con- 
 vey the coals of the Timsbury, Paulton, Camer- 
 ton, and Dunkerton pits to Bath. The course 
 of this cut, which is not yet compleated, will 
 embrace in its various windings, to its jun&ion 
 with the Radstock cut, a distance of ten miles, 
 and pass through a country as highly pi6tu- 
 resque as any in the kingdom. General as these 
 means of communication between distant parts 
 are now become throughout England, it has 
 often struck me, that a great part of the natural 
 beauties of our country might be seen to advan- 
 tage by pursuing their banks ; as the canals 
 must necessarily follow the involutions of the 
 vallies, the traveller would of course be led 
 through all their romantic scenery, and be gra- 
 tified with pictures, which a bird's-eye view 
 from a hill must rob of half their efFeft, and 
 which a turnpike-road will seldom aiford him. 
 
 The deviation of a few hundred yards from 
 the road to Combhay, leads us to the hydro- 
 statical lock, called the caisson, the bason of 
 
C ] 
 
 which now alone remains. This plan for 
 conveying boats from an higher to a lower 
 level (a fall of about sixty feet) w T as the inven- 
 tion of Mr. Weldon, late of Leicestershire, who 
 seems to have been unfortunate in the experi- 
 ment, only, in not having workmen sufficiently 
 ingenious to carry his new and incomparable 
 ideas into execution. On a canal where a 
 scarcity of water prevailed, the caisson, as con- 
 structed by Mr. W. bade fair to be a most use- 
 ful and important machine, and of course 
 greatly excited and interested the publick at- 
 tention ; its success being assured by the fa- 
 vourable opinion of scientific men from different 
 parts of the kingdom. The mechanical power 
 was so contrived, as to descend and re-ascend 
 in the medium of water which the cistern con- 
 tained, by means of valves, that occasionally 
 added, or discharged, a sufficient quantity of 
 its internal water; by which all fri&ion, com- 
 mon to other machines, was avoided. A di- 
 re Q: communication with the canal, both above 
 and below, was made by means of two doors, 
 one at either end, each adapted exaftly to a 
 corresponding one in the canal above, and in 
 the tunnel beneath; by the former of which 
 the loaded barge was easily admitted into the? 
 
 G 
 
[ 18 ] 
 
 machine, and by the latter as readily de- 
 livered. There was scarcely any one who 
 saw the plan, but approved of and admired 
 it, not only as a principle perfe&ly new in 
 the present system of hydrostatics, but as pro- 
 mising the most compleat success. Unfor- 
 tunately, however, for the inventor, the sub- 
 scribers to the canal, and the public in general, 
 the cistern in which this surprising body was to 
 move, (a machine upwards of seventy feet in 
 length, and eight in height) was not rendered 
 sufficiently tight to hold the water necessary for 
 its operations, the masons being either too igno- 
 rant or too remiss in their part of the work; a 
 defeft which was not discovered till the season 
 of remedy was past. In this dilemma, the only 
 resource was to rebuild the cistern entirely, to 
 which the canal proprietors would not consent, 
 on account of the enormous expence attending 
 it; the machine, therefore, was consigned to de- 
 struction, but not to oblivion, since it will ever 
 remain a memorable proof of the superior me- 
 chanical abilities of its very ingenious inventor. 
 
 Combhay exhibits a good specimen of the 
 many small villages in the neighbourhood of 
 Bath, which, without any abuse of a term much 
 used, but seldom well applied, may be truly 
 
C 19 1 
 
 termed jiifturesque. It hides itself in a deep 
 woody dale, at the root of some bold hills, 
 which kindly sink to form a spot for its re- 
 treat, and nearly encircle it; but in the part 
 where the vale spreads into extent, a happy 
 situation is chosen for the house of John Smith, 
 esq. The architefture of this mansion, which is 
 modern, and at once simple and elegant, ranks 
 it with the best built houses in the neighbour- 
 hood of Bath. It is of free-stone, and presents 
 three fronts, each of neat but different design; 
 one faces the east, and looks down a sweeping 
 slope towards a winding sheet of artificial wa- 
 ter, beyond which rises a wooded ascent ter- 
 minating the prospeft* The southern front is 
 opposed by the side of a nearer verdant hill, 
 sprinkled with trees. A more circumscribed 
 view of the park offers itself on the west. The 
 parish church, a neat modern Gothic stru£ture* 
 with an ancient tower, approaches the mansion 
 on the north, and forms a pleasing ornament 
 to the inclosed grounds. Much judgment is 
 displayed in the adaptation of the modern part 
 of the house to that portion of the older build- 
 ing, which was allowed to remain when the 
 father of the present possessor made his addi- 
 
1 20 j 
 
 tions. A neat library, lined entirely with oak, 
 is a remnant of the original mansion; but the 
 entrance front, which includes the dining- 
 room, hall, and drawing-rooms, exhibits a spe- 
 cimen of elegant and convenient modern archi- 
 tecture. The name of the mansion is derived 
 from the circumstance of its situation, in a 
 combe or hollow, and the family of its remote 
 proprietors, the De Hayes, who were its lords in 
 the twelfth century ; from them it became a part 
 of the widely-extended possessions of the De 
 Esterlings, or Stradlings. Since that tenure it 
 has experienced the usual mutations of pro- 
 perty, and after belonging successively to the 
 families of Dyve and Bennet, vested at length 
 by marriage in Robert Smith, esq; the father 
 of the present possessor. 
 
 The road to Midford, winding through a 
 wooded bottom, affords occasional rural scenes 
 of much beauty, till it opens into the great 
 turnpike leading from Bath to Warminster. 
 Here a very different mansion to that of Comb- 
 hay discovers itself, a striking contrast to the 
 example of chaste design we have been just 
 admiring — Midford Castle, as it is called, an 
 anomaly in building, equally at war with taste 
 and comfort. This edifice, without back or 
 
[ 21 ] 
 
 front, beginning or end, would form a triangle, 
 were not the corners rounded off into towers, 
 which, with its embattled top, Gothic win- 
 dows, and bastion on the lower side, suggested, 
 with sufficient impropriety, the proud name 
 which it at present bears. Much money has 
 doubtless been expended on its ereftion, and 
 it would be difficult to find an instance where 
 expence has been so injudiciously bestowed; 
 since its plan at once excludes beauty and con- 
 venience. Every advantage of situation it may 
 fairly boast; a broad extent of valley spreads 
 itself to the right, bounded by distant hills; a 
 river and a village lie immediately below it; 
 and to the left the eye wanders with rapture 
 through a deep winding dale, darkened with 
 w r oods, and diversified with rock and preci- 
 pice. How may we lament, that when Art 
 attempted any thing in a scene for which 
 Nature had done so much, she did not work 
 with the tools of Taste! 
 
 The canal, cut along the side of the hill, runs 
 nearly parallel with the river a considerable dis- 
 tance down the vale, and will soon afford a ride 
 for some miles of exquisite beauty ; amongst the 
 little rural scenes and interesting obje&s it of- 
 fers, is Tucker-mill, a cottage crouching under 
 
[ 22 ] 
 
 the high bank that rises above it, and seen 
 from the Midford road, the residence of Mr. 
 Smith. Professing to point out every thing- 
 remarkable in our route, it would be unpar- 
 donable in me to pass by the mansion, though 
 it be a lowly one, of a man, like Ofellus, abnormis 
 sapiens crassdque Minerva, whose invincible in- 
 dustry and indefatigable perseverance, unaided 
 by the advantages of fortune or situation, have 
 furnished him with a degree of geological and 
 mineralogical knowledge which few, if any, of 
 his contemporaries possess. Patient observa- 
 tion and practical experience, blended with 
 great natural sagacity, have enabled him to 
 form a system of geology equally new and sa- 
 tisfa£tory, which, you will hear with pleasure, 
 is intended for the world, when properly di- 
 gested and arranged. 
 
 The tedious hill above Midford brings us at 
 length to a level, a higher ground than we 
 have trodden since we left Bath, and opens 
 an extensive prospe£t to the right quite into 
 the county of Wilts. Proceeding to the five- 
 mile stone, we reach the village of Hinton, 
 and turn to the left, in order to survey the 
 ruins of its abbey, and the remains of Farley- 
 Castle in its neighbourhood 3 a rich treat to 
 
[ 23 ] 
 
 the antiquary, and not undeserving the atten- 
 tion of those who prefer the beauties of nature 
 to the vestiges Of former magnificence. Indeed, 
 did the deviation afford us nothing but dilapi- 
 dated cloisters and mouldering turrets, I should 
 still think our trouble repaid; for lightly as 
 the antiquarian taste is esteemed, and much as 
 it is ridiculed, it notwithstanding opens no 
 mean sources of gratification to the man who 
 cultivates it rationally, and leads to conse- 
 quences interesting to society, and beneficial 
 to the individual. Did the enjoyment of the 
 antiquary consist in the unmeaning contem- 
 plation of unintelligible fragments, and time- 
 eaten stones, it would be fair to consider him 
 as senseless as the obje£ls to which he dire£ts 
 it: but when the remains of ancient days 
 awaken curiosity, and excite research; when 
 they induce inquiries into the manners and 
 customs, opinions and praftices, of former 
 times; when they lead to a comparison be- 
 tween the state of the arts amongst our fore- 
 fathers, and with us their descendants; when 
 they are brought to the illustration of historical 
 difficulties, or distant events; above all, when 
 they entice the mind to sober refleftion, and to 
 a fair estimate of our present state, the evanes- 
 
[ 24 ] 
 
 cence of all human labours, and the vanity of 
 all human schemes, the pursuit then assumes 
 a more dignified a^pedi; it asserts the praise of 
 contributing not only to the entertainment, 
 but to the information, of the community; it 
 strengthens the religious principle, and makes 
 the man better and wiser than he would be 
 without it. 
 
 William Longope, the puissant Earl of Salis- 
 bury, who died in the reign of Henry III. di- 
 rected by his will that a monastery of Carthu- 
 sian monks should be founded on some part of 
 his extensive possessions. The direction was 
 carried into execution by his widow Ela, who 
 creeled the abbey at Hinton, stocked it with 
 cowls, and placed it under the united protec- 
 tion of the Virgin Mary, All Saints, and Saint 
 John the Baptist. But this powerful tutelage 
 could not shield it from the violence of 
 Henry VIII. who involved it in the general 
 wreck of monasteries, in the 37th year of his 
 reign \ the destruction of the buildings, however, 
 did not follow; for the chapel, anti-chapel, and 
 other parts, still remain ; and the present manor- 
 house was entirely indebted for the materials 
 with which it is ere&ed, to the walls of the 
 old abbey. 
 
S 25 ] 
 
 The ancient park of Farley, the noble de- 
 mesne that surrounded the castle of the Hun- 
 gerford family, stretched formerly to the War- 
 minster turnpike, through whose desolated 
 extent, wild but beautiful, runs the present 
 road to the village and castle. The former 
 creeps up the declivity of a hill, on the summit 
 of which stands the church, looking over a 
 country uncommonly romantic and diversified. 
 This building is dedicated to Saint Leonard, 
 whose portrait is well preserved in the painted 
 glass of the north window in the chancel, with 
 his name in legible charaders beneath the 
 figure 3 on either side the altar are pedestals for 
 supporting candlesticks ; and, as was usual in 
 Romish churches, in a recess in the wall on 
 the north side, a bason for the priests admini- 
 string at the altar to w r ash in, before they com- 
 municated the consecrated elements. The 
 church itself appears to be about two hundred 
 years old; but over the porch of the south door 
 is placed a large semi-circular stone of much 
 higher antiquity, as far as may be inferred 
 from the inscription on it, in letters having a 
 considerable mixture of the Saxon alphabet, 
 which continued to be used till the close of the 
 fourteenth century; they are about two inches in 
 
[ 26 ] 
 
 length. The stone must have occupied a place 
 over the entrance of some prior church, pro- 
 bably on the same spot, which had the privi- 
 lege of sanctuary 9 or of prote£ting the transgres- 
 sor who fled to its consecrated walls. Over 
 the inscription is engraven a very large conspi- 
 cuous sign of the cross 5 and the letters having 
 lately been restored and painted by the re£ior, 
 it is legibly read as follows; but I candidly 
 confess, my penetration is utterly insufficient 
 to explain the meaning of it: 
 
 Muniat hoc tempi urn cruce — J — glorificans microcosmum 
 quae genuit Christum ' miseris pace fiat. 
 
 A situation near the bottom has been chosen 
 for the castle, where a strong arched entrance, 
 some fragments of thick walls, and two ivy- 
 mantled towers, still remain, to indicate the 
 insecurity of the social state in feudal times. 
 The village of Farley lays claim to very re- 
 mote antiquity. After having been possessed 
 by Saxon Thanes for some years, it came in the 
 eleventh century into the hands of a Norman 
 lord, and formed a part of the splendid donation 
 with which William the Conqueror rewarded 
 the fidelity and services of Sir Roger deCurcelle, 
 one of his adventurous followers. His death 
 
C 27 ] 
 
 occasioned its reversion to the crown; soon 
 after which the profuse Rufus granted it to 
 Hugh de Montfort, a Norman, from whose sur- 
 name it received its present affix, Farley Mont- 
 fort. Bartholomew Lord Binghurst, renowned 
 in Edward the Second's disgraceful w 7 ars with 
 the Scots, became possessed of it in 1337; 
 his lion-hearted son, in consequence of that im- 
 prudence which is no uncommon attendant on 
 the military charafter, found it convenient to 
 dispose of his manor of Farley, together with 
 other large estates, to Thomas Lord Hunger- 
 ford, in the reign of Richard II. This noble- 
 man, one of the most renowned barons of the 
 time, fixed his chief residence at Farley, where 
 he repaired the castle originally built by 
 Curcelle, ornamented it with two gateways, 
 and strengthened it by the addition of four 
 substantial towers, the ruins of which are now 
 to be seen. As these works w r ere compleated 
 without permission previously obtained un- 
 der the king's hand, a formality necessary du- 
 ring the times of the feudal system, and natu- 
 rally springing from the principles on which 
 it was founded, they awakened the jealousy of 
 Richard, and a writ of attachment was issued 
 against Lord Hungerford. But as every mis- 
 
[ 28 ] 
 
 demeanour could in those days, be atoned for 
 by a fine, a thousand marks were paid by the 
 baron, which quickly appeased the anger, and 
 quieted the suspicions, of Richard. 
 
 A series of heroes of the same noble family 
 succeeded Lord Thqmas in the possession of 
 Farley-Castle. In the reigns of Henry IV. and 
 V. Sir Walter was its owner, a knight of great 
 martial atchievements ; who exhibited an ex- 
 ample of that romantic charafter so common 
 in the age of chivalry, when, by a whimsical 
 association, a passion for war was blended with 
 the ardour of piety, and the love of God and 
 of gallantry went hand in hand. Now fighting 
 single-handled combats on the hostile fields of 
 France, now exhibiting the gorgeous festival 
 within the walls of his castle, and now found- 
 ing chantries and chapels for ecclesiastics, Sir 
 Walter was by turn, the hero, the courtier, and 
 the devotee. In consequence of a fierce en- 
 counter with a French knight at Calais, in which 
 he was victorious, he gained a pension of one 
 hundred marks per annum out of the revenues 
 of the town of Marlborough. By his splendid 
 entertainments at Farley, whose roof rang to the 
 sounds of h:S minstrels, and whose lofty hall 
 and magnificent state-apartments, the wonder 
 
[ 29 ] 
 
 of the age, were decorated with honourable 
 trophies from the fields of Cressy and Poi£Hers, 
 Agincourt and Calais, he obtained the name 
 of the finest gentleman of the day ; and by his 
 munificence to the monks, for several of whom 
 he provided by institutions in the chapel of 
 Farley and in the church of Olneston in Glo- 
 cestershire, he secured the chara&er of piety 
 and devotion. With the lineal descendants of 
 this baron, Farley-Castle continued till the 
 reign of Edward IV. when Sir Thomas Hun- 
 gerford, afterwards Lord Hungerford, great 
 grandson of Sir Walter, being too aftive in the 
 contests between the two Roses, and unfor- 
 tunately having chosen the losing side, he^was 
 tried, condemned, and executed for treason, and 
 his large possessions confiscated to the crown. 
 The reversing of the attainder on the family, in 
 Henry Vllth's reign, restored their patrimonial 
 estates to the Hungerfords; and passing sue* 
 cessively through Walter Lord Hungerford, 
 Sir Edward and Sir Anthony Hungerford, they 
 vested at length in Sir Edward Hungerford, 
 towards the conclusion of the Protectorship. 
 But, heronm §Uinoxa: the knight, in the true 
 spirit of those times when Charles IL set so 
 baneful an example of dissipation to his sub- 
 
[ 30 ] 
 
 je&s, was profligate and wasteful; and after a 
 few years of extravagance, found himself 
 compelled to alienate the possessions of his 
 ancestors. Farley-Castle was disposed of to 
 the family of Bayntun, in 1686; soon after 
 which, it came into the possession of that of 
 Houlton, to whose descendant, Joseph Houlton, 
 esq; it at present belongs. The estate consists 
 of two manors, within a ring fence, and com- 
 prises a park, close to the old family seat, 
 stocked with deer, well wooded, and agreeably 
 varied with hill and bottom. 
 
 The chapel of the castle, which was dedi- 
 cated to St. Leonard, is nearly perfeft. The 
 performance of divine service in it has been 
 omitted for many years, but by the laudable 
 attention of the present owner, the fabric is in 
 good repair, and the curious monuments with- 
 in it are in tolerable preservation. This building 
 consists of a single nave fifty-six feet in length 
 and twenty in breadth, and a chantry on the 
 north side, twenty feet in length and fourteen 
 in breadth, ere&ed and endowed by Sir Walter 
 Hungerford; in the former is an old wooden 
 pulpit, an immense slab of rich granite which 
 forms the altar, and some pieces of ancient 
 armour — rude remains of the age of chivalry. 
 
[ 31 1 
 
 A flat grave stone also is seen on the floor, cut 
 with the figure of a knight in armour, and an 
 imperfe£i inscription running round its edges, 
 commemorating Sir Giles Hungerford; and 
 attached to the south wall is a table monument 
 of free-stone, with this inscription : — 
 
 €e Tyme tryeth truth, quod (quoth) Walter Hungerford, 
 <r knyght, who lyeth here, and Edward hys son, to Gods 
 <c mercy in whom he trusts for ever. An 0 . D\ 1585, the 
 « vi of Desbr." 
 
 But the chapel contains the rarest curiosities of 
 this fabric. Under its arch stands an old 
 table tomb, highly sculptured on the sides and 
 ends, with coats of arms and human figures, 
 the full-sized representations of a knight and 
 his lady are recumbent upon the top, the for- 
 mer cased in armour, with a lion at his feet ; the 
 latter in the dress of the times, her head resting 
 on two cushions, supported by angels, and two 
 dogs at the other extremity — the effigies of Sir 
 Thomas Hungerford, who died Dec. 3d, 1508, 
 and Johanna his wife, who followed him in 1 5 1 2. 
 Attached to the north wall is another tomb of 
 the same kind, built of free-stone, gorgeously^ 
 painted and gilt. It bears this inscription — 
 
 " Edward Hungerford, knight, sonne to Walter Lord 
 u Hungerford, and late heir to Sir Walter Hungerford., 
 
[ 32 ] 
 
 t( deceased, the 5 daie of December, 1607, and liethhefe 
 " with Dame Jane his wife, daughter to Sir Anthony 
 " Hungerford, of Downe-Amny." 
 
 A third monument Occurs on the west side of 
 the chapel with no inscription, so that we can- 
 not tell for whom it was ere£ted. It should 
 seem, however, to be the burial place of some 
 pious and prolific dame, as there are the efiigies 
 of an old lady kneeling at a desk, accompanied 
 by four sons and five daughters, all in the same 
 devout position. — Another small tomb is seen 
 against the north wall, in which a brass plate 
 contains the following lines: — 
 
 " If birth or worth might ad to rareness life, 
 
 " Or teares in man revive a virtuous wife ; 
 
 fl Lock't in this cabinet, bereav'd of breath, 
 
 te Here lies the pearle inclos'd — she which by death 
 
 *f Sterne death subdu'd, slighting vain worldly vice, 
 
 ie Achiving Heav'n with thoughts of Paradise. 
 
 " She was her sexes wonder, great in bloud, 
 
 u But what is far more rare, both great and good. 
 
 " She was with all celestial virtues stor'd, 
 
 " The life of Shaa, and soul of Hungerford." 
 
 AN EPITAPH. 
 
 tc Written in memory of the late Right Noble and most 
 " truly virtuous Mrs. Mary Shaa, daughter to the Right 
 " Hon. Walter Lord Hungerford, sister and heyre generall 
 " to the Right Noble Sir Edward Hungerford, knight, 
 <e deceased, and wife unto Thomas Shaa, esq; leaving be- 
 
[ S3 j 
 
 " liincl Robert Shaa, her only sonne. She departed this 
 s< life, in the faith of Christ, the last day of September., 
 « An 0 . Div. j6l3." 
 
 But these costly specimens of ancient sepul- 
 chral masonry are entirely eclipsed by the 
 magnificent monument which stands in the 
 centre of the chapel, and is, perhaps, one of 
 the finest morsels of the kind in England. It is 
 composed entirely of white polished marble, 
 placed on steps of black marble, and support- 
 ing the effigies of Sir Edward and Lady Mar- 
 garet Hungerford; the one in compleat ar- 
 mour, his feet resting on a wheat-sheaf, (the 
 family crest) the other in a loose dress, with a 
 lion and anchor at her feet. The workman- 
 ship, as well as materials, are most choice; the 
 name of the sculptor does not appear, but as it 
 was constructed at a time when the nobility 
 went to an immense expence in these last me- 
 mentos of their grandeur, it was probably the 
 work of the first artist of the dav. A long 
 Latin inscription is cut on the south side of 
 the monument, which is otherwise enriched 
 with a profusion of quarterings. The date 
 is 1648. A painting of the Resurrection covers 
 the ceiling, and beneath it appear the repre- 
 sentations of the two Saints James, Saint 
 
 B 
 
[ 34 ] 
 
 John, St. Philip, St. Matthew, St. Thomas, 
 and St. Bartholomew. The crypt, or vault, 
 under this chapel, exhibits a very extraordinary 
 family party, the pickled remains of eight of 
 the Hungerfords, ranged by the side of each 
 other, cased in leaden coffins, and assuming 
 the forms of Egyptian mummies, the faces pro- 
 minent, the shoulders swelling out into their 
 natural shape, and the body gradually tapering 
 towards the feet. The first of these, on the 
 right, contains the remains of Lord Hunger- 
 ford ; second, those of his wife ; third, the first 
 wife of Sir Edward Hungerford, jun.; fourth, 
 Sir Edward Hungerford himself 3 fifth, the 
 second wife of Sir Edward Hungerford -> sixth, 
 (in the left hand corner) Mary Hungerford, 
 who married Thomas Shaa, esq; and whose 
 monument is in the chapel above. The two 
 children inclosed in lead, and lying on the 
 breasts of the larger coffins, are the offspring 
 of two of the wives of Sir Edward Hungerford, 
 (for he had three in all) who both died in child- 
 bed. One of the full-sized leaden coffins has a 
 perforation on the right shoulder, through 
 which a stick may be introduced, and the em- 
 balming matter extra&ed 5 this appears to be 
 a thick viscous liquid, of a brown colour, and 
 
C 35 ] 
 
 resinous smell and consistence; the flesh is de- 
 composed by the admission of the air, but the 
 bones still retain their soundness. A shield of 
 copper, which lies in the vault, is inscribed with 
 a notification of Sir Edward Hungerford's re- 
 posing in the vault : — - 
 
 " Hie intus recondit r mortale totum inslgnis domini 
 " Edw. Hungerford, dc Cossham in com. Wilts,, ho bms 
 u orb. bal. mil. fil. nat. max. domini Antho. Hungerford, 
 " de Blakbourton in com. Oxon. eq. aurat. et uxor, ejus 
 <c dnae Luciae Hungerford, filiae Gualt. Hungerford, de 
 " Farley Hungerford in agro Somerset, eq. avrati. cujus 
 <c antiquiss. et clariss. prosapiae de Farley Hungerford fuit 
 " terminus. Felici thalamo conjunct, dnae Margaretae 
 <c filiae et cohaered. Gail. Hallyday, civis et alderm. Lond. 
 " per annos xxvii. obiit x°. kal. ix bris . mdcxlviii. an 0 - 
 << aetat. lii°; > 
 
 Such, my dear sir, is Farley-Castle and its 
 accompaniments ; a place curious to the anti- 
 quary, pleasing to the painter, and which might 
 be rendered of great utility to the public at 
 large, since I know of no spot whither we 
 could send, with so much advantage, those 
 unfortunate patients who are under the influ- s 
 ence of family pride, or of that inflation which 
 worldly greatness is so apt to inspire. 
 
 Returning again to the Warminster road, we 
 proceed to Norton-St.-Philip's, a town of little 
 
[ 36 ] 
 
 note, but of great antiquity; though of late 
 years it has assumed some consequence from 
 its employment in the woollen manufactory. 
 A large stone building in the street, formerly a 
 grange, points out its ancient connexion with 
 Hinton-Abbey ; and its church affords some 
 remnants of former superstition. The most 
 remarkable amongst these are, the represen- 
 tations of two female figures, cut in a stone 
 which makes part of the floor of the nave ; they 
 are close to each other, and the reason given 
 for this union, is a wonderful circumstance 
 that brings to the recolleftion a story in Mar- 
 thas Scriblerus. They are the effigies, it is said, 
 of a double female born in a neighbouring village, 
 which consisted of two complete bodies at- 
 tached to each other at the side. Nature, 
 tradition assures us, allowed this strange birth 
 to arrive at maturity, when one-half sickened 
 and died; to separate this from the surviving 
 moiety was impossible, the remaining half, 
 therefore, was under the necessity of enduring 
 the intolerable load of her deceased compa- 
 nion, till the suffocating steams of putrefaftion 
 deprived her at length of life. It must be con- 
 fessed, the legend wants those minutia of date 
 and place with which artful story-tellers al- 
 
[ 37 j 
 
 ways corroborate their narrations; since the 
 Cicerone observed, that the circumstance hap- 
 pened at a village which had been long since 
 destroyed, and (still more indefinite with re- 
 spe£t to time) that it occurred " years ago." 
 
 The road affords but little variety or beauty, 
 till we pass Beckington ; a place that owes all 
 its present importance to its connection with 
 the neighbouring manufa&uring town Frome, 
 which employs many of its inhabitants in scrib- 
 bling wool, weaving yarn, and shearing cloth. 
 It formerly flourished under the protection of 
 the powerful family of St. Maur, or Seymour, 
 the ancient lords of the manor, by whose name 
 the old manerial house is still called. The 
 church exhibits some specimens of Anglo- 
 Norman masonry, in the zig-zag mouldings of 
 its windows; and two curious effigies of John 
 St. Maur and Elizabeth his wife, above three 
 hundred years old. A poet-laureat also sleeps 
 within its consecrated walls, Samuel Daniel, 
 who succeeded the celebrated Spenser in that 
 office. For once in his life, James the First 
 made a mistake in favour of taste, and patro- 
 nized a man who was no less a favourite of the 
 muses than of his royal proteSor. His Works, 
 if written in the present day, would, it is true, 
 
[ 38 ] 
 
 place him but low on the roll of bards, but con- 
 sidered as the produ&ions of an age when 
 English versification had made but a small 
 progress towards its present state of perfeftion, 
 they lay claim to the praise of considerable ex- 
 pression and harmony; at all events, he must 
 be allowed to have soared far above the royal 
 pedant, his master, for he too attempted to 
 write verses, and printed a small folio contain- 
 ing his dalliances with the Nine. It would be 
 injustice to Daniel, indeed, to bring his effu- 
 sions into a comparison with the stuff of. James, 
 which (notwithstanding his excuse for them in 
 the preface, where he tells us, in barbarous 
 language, they were written in youth, and that 
 afterwards he had no time to corre6l their 
 faults, so that cc when his ingyne and age 
 " could, his affaires and fashierie would not, 
 cc permit him to correft them, scarslie, but at 
 " stolen moments, he having the leizure to 
 " bleak upon any paper") a school-boy of the 
 seventeenth century deserved to be flogged for 
 having produced. 
 
 The country now becomes more hilly than 
 of late, and an undulating road leads the tra- 
 veller to Frome, two miles distant from Beck- 
 ington. Here an agreeable appearance of 
 
[ 39 ] 
 
 bustle and business catches the eye, every thing 
 indicates the presence of manufactories and 
 trade; and the labouring men, women, -and 
 children, as deeply tinged as ancient Britons 
 with a dark blue, discover the nature of the 
 employment by which they get their bread — 
 the dying and scribbling of the wool, and the 
 weaving and shearing of the cloth of that co- 
 lour. Frome has for many years been famous 
 for working Spanish and English wool into 
 broad-cloths and kerseymeres ; in the year 
 1789, three hundred and forty-eight thousand 
 pounds weight of wool were wrought here into 
 one hundred and sixty thousand yards of broad- 
 cloth and kerseymere, of which quantity the 
 former article composed about four-fifths; a 
 business that employed two hundred and thirty- 
 three scribblers, and two hundred and twenty- 
 three shearmen. The quantity of wool manu- 
 factured here is since considerably increased, 
 but the number of people employed is dimi- 
 nished, the introduction of machines having 
 lessened, in a prodigious proportion, the call 
 for manual labour. At present there are in 
 the town of Frome twenty-seven manufac- 
 turers of cloth, who make, of broad, narrow, 
 and kerseymere, about two hundred pieces 
 
[ 40 ] 
 
 weekly, of twenty-eight yards each ; or, calcu- 
 lating by a different measure, about one hundred 
 and sixty miles of cloth, in length, every year. 
 
 The following slight sketch will shew you 
 the process pursued in this branch of British 
 manufactories, and, at the same time, give 
 you an idea of the number of people, to whom 
 we are obliged for every coat we wear: — The 
 English fleece is sorted, according to its dif- 
 ferent qualities, by the woolstapler, and the 
 Spanish* has all its pitch-marks clipped off. 
 It is then carried to the dye-house, and w r hen 
 cleansed from its impurities, (by scouring it 
 in a furnace of hot water) dyed, and re- 
 turned to the manufacturer; afterwards scrib- 
 bled; carded, and spun into yarn by machinery; 
 twisted; woven in the loom; burled, by nip- 
 ping off its knots and burs; milled by the ful- 
 ler; dubbed with cards of teazle; stretched on 
 the tenter hooks; dressed; sheared; pressed 
 between heated planks and press paper; and 
 packed for the markets. 
 
 The town of Frome is situated on the descent 
 and at the foot of a rapid hill, and though full of 
 streets, they are all narrow, incommodious, and 
 irregular, its population, in the year 1798, was 
 estimated at seven thousand seven hundred 
 
L 41 ] 
 
 and thirty-seven, who were between fifteen 
 and sixty years of age. From the opulence 
 which the woollen trade has thrown into -the 
 place, its inhabitants have been enabled to 
 form several generous institutions for the suc- 
 cour of the helpless, and the comfort of the 
 poor; and, perhaps, no place in England, of a 
 similar size, affords so many instances of bene- 
 volence applied in this laudable manner. The 
 church, also, (for I cannot allow you to quit the 
 town without accompanying me to this highly 
 decorated building) bears testimony to the mu- 
 nificence of the inhabitants of Frome; without , 
 it is a plain substantial strufture, not attracting 
 the attention by any beauty or singularity; but 
 within, its splendid ornaments evince, that 
 churchwardens' accounts are not here confined 
 to those parsimonious limits by which most 
 other parishes circumscribe them. All is uni- 
 formity and elegance; and if we except the 
 gingerbread ornaments of the seat appropri- 
 ated for the churchwardens, with which a pef^ 
 sonage, who filled that situation a few years 
 since, in the pride of office, bedizened it ; the 
 decorations are not out of chara£ier with the 
 edifice. Indeed, I think it will be one of the 
 handsomest parish churches in England, when 
 
[ 42 ] 
 
 a large oval space over the altar is filled up by 
 the transparency from the pencil of Mr. Bell, 
 of Bath, which, it is said, he has engaged to 
 contribute to the church. 
 
 On leaving Frome, we quit the turnpike at 
 the distance of three miles, and turn into the 
 noble park of Longleat, the seat of the Mar- 
 quis of Bath, through which passes the road to 
 Horningsham. This princely demesne em- 
 braces within the inclosure a circumference of 
 twelve miles, and exhibits a beautiful variety of 
 country; rich natural scenery heightened by the 
 judicious exertions of art, in noble well-dis- 
 posed plantations. All is on the great scale, 
 and every thing around recalls the remem- 
 brance of ancient English magnificence. A 
 level road of straight dire£Hon, and nearly half 
 a mile in length, forms the grand approach; 
 this vista is terminated by one of the finest 
 family residences in Britain. We survey a 
 mansion of stone, stretching to a breadth of 
 two hundred and twenty feet in front and one 
 hundred and eighty in depth, and rising to a 
 proud proportionate height; not indeed of 
 Gothic or classical architecture, but built in 
 that imposing stile, which, though inconso- 
 nant to the stri£l notions of taste, and little, per- 
 
[ 43 ] 
 
 haps, when surveyed in its parts, forms such an 
 august whole as at once fills the mind with the 
 ideas of grandeur and magnificence. Vestiges 
 of the declining Gothic (which began to disap- 
 pear towards the conclusion of Henry Vlllth's 
 reign) may be traced in the vast projecting 
 windows, remains of the ancient Oriel, and 
 the form of the stone casements; and at- 
 tempts at the Grecian discover themselves in 
 the pilasters, crowned with rich capitals that 
 cover the faces of the building, and the statues 
 which ornament the top. This singular mix- 
 ture of styles characterizes the English build- 
 ings, from the age when Longleat-house was 
 ere£ted to the time of James I. ; and was the 
 effe£t of that struggle between the expiring 
 Gothic, which our national architects endea- 
 voured to keep alive, and the classical style im- 
 ported from Italy by the foreign artists, who 
 flocked hither in the sixteenth century. Full 
 of those chaste architectural ideas, which the 
 noble remains in their own country inspired, 
 they would have " bid Britannia rival Greece" 
 in her strudtures, had they been left to their 
 own judgment; but, on their arrival in Eng- 
 land, they found notions of beauty with re- 
 gard to building diametrically opposite to their 
 
L 44 ] 
 
 own. It was their business/ therefore, to be 
 cautious in their proceedings; rather to con- 
 ciliate than to oppose ; to sap long-rooted pre- 
 judices by degrees, rather than attack them 
 violently at once. Hence we find, in all the 
 structures of the times we are speaking of, an 
 admission of some of the features of the Gothic 
 into the plan; producing that discordant com- 
 bination of heterogeneous styles, which, for 
 nearly a century, distinguishes the architecture 
 of England from every other in the world. 
 
 When this singular taste was in its meridian 
 in this country, Sir John Thynne ereCted the 
 mansion of Longleat ; and a noble specimen, 
 we must confess, it affords. The knight 
 had purchased the demesne of Longleat, the 
 scite of its ancient priory, of Sir John Horsey, 
 of Dorsetshire, in the thirty-fourth year of 
 Henry VIII. ; but occupied in public and martial 
 affairs, he did not attend to his purchase for 
 five and twenty years after it was made. Tired 
 at length of the shouts of armies, and the in- 
 trigues of courts, he resolved to devote his lat- 
 ter years to rural quiet, and to build a capacious 
 mansion on his property at Longleat, where 
 he might enjoy otium cum dignltate for the re- 
 mainder of his life. He accordingly, it is said, 
 
[ * ] 
 
 designed the plan of the building hirnself, and 
 laid the foundation of it in January 1567. 
 Twelve years were consumed before it was 
 completed, and the sum of 801 61. 13s. 8d. ex- 
 clusive of carriage, stone, and timber, which 
 were his own, expended by the knight in its 
 execution. But, ah! how vain are human an- 
 ticipations of future enjoyments ! The splendid 
 mansion had now received its noble owner, 
 where, in the bosom of his large family, his 
 eight sons and numerous daughters, he pur- 
 posed to expend his income in that generous 
 hospitality, which has attached to the English 
 chara&er the exclusive praise of good living; 
 but fate decreed otherwise, and he fell a victim 
 to a fever in the spring of the year 1580, im- 
 mediately ensuing that in which he had com- 
 pleted the building. Longleat-house. forms a 
 parallelogram, in the centre of which is a 
 quadrangle; the chapel occupies one side, and 
 dwelling-apartments and offices compose the 
 others; the enormous extent of the whole may 
 be best imagined, by simply mentioning the 
 number of rooms, which are said to amount to 
 one hundred and seventy. 
 
 Our ancestors, for reasons, in point of taste, 
 perhaps, as well as propriety, sufficiently judi- 
 
[ 46 ] 
 
 clous, chose situations for their mansions very 
 different from those which their descendants 
 seleft. The flat and the bottom were preferred 
 to the hill 5 their aim was quiet and seclusion ; 
 the stillness of retreat, where, equally secured 
 from the storms of the Heavens, and the imper- 
 tinence of the world, they might enjoy undis- 
 turbed that " dear delight," which springs 
 from the cultivation of the domestic affeftions 
 and the enjoyment of family union. Influenced 
 by this taste, Sir John Thynne, neglefcling the 
 many rising grounds and inviting hills within 
 the park, placed his mansion in a flat, open 
 only to the distant country on one side, but 
 making a happy exchange for extensive pros- 
 peels in quiet sylvan views within its own de- 
 mesne. The cellars of this magnificent resi- 
 dence are in unison with that chara£ter of 
 greatness which every other part displays ; they 
 form an immense range of catacombs, stretch- 
 ing the whole length of the front, and not dis- 
 gracing the ancient hospitality of the seat, con- 
 tain between five and. six hundred hogsheads 
 of different kinds of beer. But the richest 
 treasure is above-ground, a vast colleftion of 
 original portraits; exhibiting a tolerably com- 
 plete series of the most illustrious characters of 
 
[ 47 ] 
 
 the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. That 
 we may pay due respeft to these venerable 
 personages, you must allow me to introduce 
 you to them individually, in the different apart- 
 ments which they have long occupied, mute 
 and careless spe&ators of those political squab- 
 bles and conflicting interests wherein they were 
 once so busily employed themselves, and by 
 which the sons of ambition are at present al- 
 most universally engrossed. 
 
 The hall is the first apartment of the mansion, 
 a grand room, with a gallery at mm end, in- 
 tended to accommodate the music, when the 
 lord of old fed his tenantry, or entertained, on 
 public days, his neighbours. It is appropri- 
 ately ornamented with stags' horns and hunt- 
 ing-pieces, and realizes the description of 
 Thomson's f! ghostly hall of grey renown, with 
 woodland honours graced." The paintings here 
 are eight in number, representing some favourite 
 horses of the former possessors of -Longleat ; 
 and the portraits of the second Lord W eymouth, 
 Lord Hyde, Rev. Mr. Villiers, and Do61or 
 Jackson, equipped for the chace. It will be 
 speaking sufficiently in their praise to say, that 
 these pieces are the work of Wootton, who, 
 about sixty years ago, obtained such celebrity 
 
E 48 ] 
 
 for his masterly produ&ions in this line of 
 painting. He has certainly lost none of it by 
 his labours at Longleat ; the same skill of pen- 
 cil, and fire of expression, are discerned here, 
 as in his most esteemed pieces; indeed, the 
 horses and dogs are all but alive. The 
 dining-room adjoins the hall; an apartment of 
 very large dimensions, including one of the ad- 
 vanced bows or oriels, which I noticed before. 
 Here several family portraits present them- 
 selves, as well as some original ones of charac- 
 ters celebrated or remarkable in former days; 
 amongst the most curious are, 
 
 Sir John Thynne^ the founder of Longleat, in 
 the fifty-first year of his age, who was the senes- 
 challus hospitii, or house-steward, to Proteftor 
 Somerset. From this powerful patron he 
 happily imbibed a warm zeal for the Reforma- 
 tion, which he had the courage to assert, 'even 
 under the implacable bigot Queen Mary. The 
 widely-extended grief which his death occa- 
 sioned, bears the most honourable testimony to 
 the amiableness of his character; and the tears 
 of sixty-one servants, and sixty poor men, who 
 accompanied their master and friend to the 
 church of Deverell-Longbridge, threw more 
 real splendour over the funeral procession, than 
 
C 49 ] 
 
 the numerous troop of heralds which attended, 
 with all their frippery of pennons, plumes, and 
 atchievements, could produce. 
 
 Sir John Thynne, eldest son and heir of the 
 founder of Longleat, knighted by James I. at 
 the charter-house, May nth, 1603, four days 
 after his Majesty's arrival in London ; an ho- 
 nour which he survived only eighteen months. 
 
 Thomas Thymic, esq-, the possessor of Long- 
 leat estate towards the conclusion of the seven- 
 teenth century, called Tom of Ten Thousand, 
 from the generosity of his spirit, and the splen- 
 dour of his mode of living. By his marriage 
 with Elizabeth Countess of Ogle, the im-^ 
 mensely rich heiress of the Earl of Northum- 
 berland, he unfortunately excited the jealous 
 rage of Count Coningsmark, who had intended 
 the lady for himself. Determining to sacrifice 
 Thynne to his fury, the Count engaged assassins 
 to shoot him in his carriage; which service 
 they performed on the 12th February, 1682-3. 
 Two of the villains were apprehended and 
 hanged, and the Count himself brought to a 
 trial, at which, however, he was acquitted, 
 after a tedious deliberation of the jurors. But, 
 
 " Raro antecedentem scelestum 
 u Deseruit pede poena claudo j" 
 E 
 
[ 50 ] 
 
 he afterwards met with the fate which his pro- 
 fligacy deserved; attempting to intrigue with a 
 lady of high rank in Germany, he was laid wait 
 for by the order of the enraged spouse, liter- 
 ally hewn in pieces, and his miserable remains 
 buried in a house of office, which was imme- 
 diately bricked up. The marble monument 
 to the memory of Mr. Thynne is well known 
 to the visitor of Westminster-Abbey; and, as 
 every thing remarkable has some story attached 
 to it, we may pardon tradition for tacking the 
 following to this curious piece of sculpture:—- 
 An old domestic happening to meet one day a 
 crony of former times, who was hurrying for- 
 wards at a very quick pace, after shaking him 
 by the hand, begged to know whither he was 
 going in such violent haste. " Going,'* said 
 the other, " why to Westminster-Abbey, to 
 " look at the figure of my father, which is just 
 " put up there in white marble. " c Thy father's 
 ' figure/ returned the questioner; ' what do'st 
 ' mean, man?' " I mean," replied he, " that 
 " they have been making a fine monument for 
 " Mr. Thynne, where they've carved the coach, 
 " the horses, and the coachman. Now my 
 " father was driving his coach at the time he 
 <c was murdered, and I want to see whether 
 
L m ] 
 
 tc theyVe made a good likeness of him or not J" 
 We find the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth in 
 the number of Mr. Thynne's particular friends ; 
 he frequently visited him at Longleat, and ac- 
 cepted from his hands a fine set of Oldenburgh 
 coach-horses. Thynne delighted much in the 
 sports of the field, and boasted a finer stud 
 than any private gentleman in England pos- 
 sessed. By his untimely death Mirth lost an 
 ardent devotee^ and Benevolence a pra£h*cal 
 disciple. 
 
 Sir William Coventry, youngest son of the lord- 
 keeper, and, like his father, a pattern of inte- 
 grity and honesty; the best speaker, according 
 to Bishop Burnet, in the House of Commons, 
 and capable of bearing thfe chief ministry, as it 
 was once thought he was very near it, and de- 
 served it more than all the rest did. He received 
 the honour of knighthood in 1657, and was 
 made one of the commissioners of the treasury 
 in 1667; but having too much honour to take 
 a part in the wicked politics £>f the times, he 
 resigned his situation, and retired into the 
 country, to enjoy virtue and peace, where he 
 died in 1686. 
 
 Henry Coventry, elder brother of Sir William 
 Coventry, a strenuous loyalist during the Com- 
 
[ 52 ] 
 
 mon wealth, by_ which he suffered considerably 
 fn his property. He was one of the few who 
 experienced gratitude from Charles II. for an 
 attachment to his cause, being made first groom 
 of the bedchamber, afterwards envoy extraor- 
 dinary to Sweden, and at length one of the 
 principal secretaries of state ; this office he re- 
 signed in 1679, and died in 1686. 
 
 Richard Earl of Holland, one of the first vic- 
 tims to the Commonwealth, after its settlement 
 in 1649. He negociated the marriage between 
 Charles I. and Henrietta of France; an adhe- 
 rent by turns to the king and the parliament, 
 but at length, having attached himself to the 
 royal arms, he was taken at St. Neot's by the 
 republican forces, and two years afterwards 
 tried, condemned, and executed. 
 
 John Lowther Viscount Lonsdale, the first peer 
 of that line, and father of the last; an a£live 
 partizan in the Revolution, when the English 
 people asserted and established those great 
 political truths which now form the basis of 
 their liberty; that the power of the crown flows 
 from no other fountain than an implied contrail 
 between it and the people; and that allegiance 
 and proteiiion are reciprocal ties. His lord- 
 ship was so highly regarded by William III. 
 
[ 53 ] 
 
 that having been made lord privy seal, and 
 being obliged by indisposition to retire into the 
 country, he was ordered by the sovereign to 
 carry the seal thither with him. 
 
 Edward Seymour Duke of Somerset, the pro- 
 te£tor. This is a curious portrait, either an 
 original by Holbein, or a copy from an original 
 by this artist, to whom the Duke had sat for his 
 pi£hire. It seems to be a rigid likeness, and 
 enables us to form an interesting acquaintance 
 with a man whose charafter was as motley as 
 his fortunes. In early life, the turn of Seymour's 
 mind appears to have been gentle and amiable; 
 but ambitious prospers awakened, and eleva- 
 tion matured, passions, which he probably 
 would not have been influenced by, had his 
 success been less, and his situation other than 
 it was. Where, however, shall we find the 
 character that is not ruined or injured by the 
 possession of power? In the overbearing con- 
 du£l of the proteftor, his pride and peculation, 
 his hatred of the Howards, his severity towards 
 his brother, and his injustice to his first off- 
 spring, we only see the sad picture which 
 human nature too frequently exhibits, when 
 placed in similar dangerous circumstances 
 with Somerset; we see the lust of domination 
 
C 54 ] 
 
 absorbing the whole soul, bearing down con- 
 science, exterminating sensibility, and hesitat- 
 ing at no a£ts, however atrocious or dishonour- 
 able, which appear to be necessary to confirm 
 its rule or extend its influence. But let us not 
 dwell upon the dark side of his chara6ter only; 
 virtues he possessed, and those of the brightest 
 water. His exertions in favour of the Refor- 
 mation were ardent, sincere, and unremitting; 
 and his humanity at times shone forth with the 
 most amiable splendour. Nothing, indeed, 
 can place his claim to this praise in a more 
 striking point of view than one of the charges 
 adduced by his enemies to criminate him; it 
 was his setting up a " Court of Requests in his 
 cc own house, to hear the petitions and suits of 
 " poor men ; and upon the compassion he took 
 " of their oppressions, if he ended not their 
 " business, he would send his letters to chan- 
 " eery in their favour." Nothing but the dis- 
 torted eye of malice could have discerned causes 
 of accusation in a praftice which rested upon 
 the basis of humanity, which opposed itself to 
 the cruelty of oppression, and endeavoured to 
 counteraft an evil of no less magnitude, " the 
 law's delay." Somerset, after experiencing 
 every revolution of a favourite's life, fell a sa- 
 
[ 55 ] 
 
 crifice to the ambition of another courtier, less 
 amiable than himself, the Earl of Warwick, 
 afterwards created Duke of Northumberland, 
 and expiated all his public crimes upon the 
 scaffold the 2 2d January, 1552. 
 
 Thomas Lord Seymour of Sud/ey, the admiral, 
 brother of the prote£lor; artist unknown. His 
 powerful abilities, which raised him to the 
 high office that he filled, his uncontroulable am- 
 bition, which induced him to sacrifice himself 
 to the Queen Dowager, and to attempt the 
 hand of the Princess Elizabeth, and his fierce 
 pride, which drove him to conspiracy and re- 
 bellion, are 2 w r ell expressed in his penetrating 
 eye and strongly-marked countenance. His 
 enemies brought him to the block the 10th of 
 March, 1549; though his trial was of that un- 
 fair and secret nature as led the nation in ge- 
 neral to believe, that he had been gotten rid of, 
 rather as a troublesome person to the existing 
 government than as a dangerous one to 
 the state. 
 
 Lord-Keeper Coventry, a most magnificent pic- 
 ture. He was charged w r ith the seals by 
 Charles I. November 1st, 1625, shortly after 
 Charles's accession to the throne ; and was 
 dignified with the degree of baron, by the title 
 
[ S6 ] 
 
 of Lord Coventry, of Aylesbury, in the county 
 of Worcester, and died 14th January, 1639-40. 
 That admirable painter of moral portraits, the 
 Earl of Clarendon, has given us the following 
 charafter of this upright man : — " He discharged 
 " all the offices he went through with great abi- 
 " lities, and singular reputation of integrity; he 
 " enjoyed his place of lord-keeper with an uni- 
 " versal reputation (and sure justice was never 
 ■ ff better administered) for the space of about 
 " sixteen years, even to his death, some months 
 Cf before he was sixty years of age. Which 
 " was another important circumstance of his 
 " felicity, that great office being so slippery, 
 " that no man had died in it before for the space 
 " of forty years j nor had his successors, for 
 9 some time after him, much better fortune, 
 " He was a man of wonderful gravity and wis- 
 " dom, and understood not only the whole 
 " science and mystery of the law at least 
 " equally with any man who had ever sat in 
 " that place, but had a clear conception of the 
 " w 7 hqle policy of government both of church 
 " and state. He had, in the plain way of speak- 
 " ing and delivery, without much ornament of 
 " elocution, a strange power of making him- 
 " self believed, (the only justifiable design of 
 
[ 57 ] 
 
 " eloquence) so that- he used very frankly to 
 €C deny, and would never suffer any man to de- 
 * part from him with an opinion, that he was 
 " inclined to gratify, when in truth he was not, 
 " holding that dissimulation to be the worst of 
 fC lying ; yet, the manner of it was so gentle 
 " and obliging, and his condescension such, to 
 <c inform the persons whom he could not sa- 
 " tisfy, that few departed from him with ill-will 
 " and ill wishes. To conclude, his security 
 " consisted very much in his having but little 
 " credit with the king; and he died in a sea- 
 ** son the most opportune, in which a wise 
 " man would have prayed to have finished his 
 " course, and which, in truth, crowned his 
 " other signal prosperity in the world." 
 
 The drawing-room contains many good and 
 curious portraits; amongst them are, 
 
 Lord-Keefier Williams Archbishop of York, a maa 
 of singular talent and erudition, and well 
 skilled in managing the intricacies of public 
 affairs; he had the seals in the reign of Charles 
 the First, and was elevated to the metropolitan 
 chair of York by that monarch; but when 
 the disagreement between* Charles and his 
 Parliament byrst into that flame of violence, 
 
E 48 ] i 
 
 which was qufenched only by the blood of the 
 king, Williams attached himself to the Purita- 
 nical party, with whom he canted and fasted 
 till his death in 1650. 
 
 The present Marquis of Bat/i, a good painting 
 by Hoppner; and, 
 
 Lord Thitrlow, the late chancellor; an incom- 
 parable portrait by Sir Joshua Reynolds. But 
 how should the production be otherwise than 
 incomparable, when the artist was so able, and 
 the subje£i so good? Even an inferior pencil 
 could not have missed the grandeur of Lord 
 Thurlow's countenance. 
 
 Lord Chancellor Bacon, who owed his fame 
 to his disgrace. Peculation and corruption are 
 more the vices of situation than of the heart. 
 Bacon was frail, and, like many other exalted 
 personages, (not less venal, though more for- 
 tunate in escaping deteftion) being placed in a 
 situation of temptation, fell, and bartered his 
 integrity for gold. Shame, however, recalled 
 virtue, and retirement confirmed her influence; 
 the absence of wealth banished the desire of 
 it ; he relinquished the dreams of ambition, 
 lost the thirst of riches, and turned his im- 
 mense talents to much more noble obje£ts, the 
 pursuits of natural and moral philosophy; his 
 
[ $9 ] 
 
 discoveries and improvements in which will 
 be remembered and acknowledged, as long as 
 they continue to exercise and gratify the hu- 
 man intellect, 
 
 Edzvtfrd VilJiers, first Earl of Jersey, with his 
 wand, master of the horse to Queen Mary in 
 February 1688-9; and created Viscount Villiers 
 in the third year of William III. 
 
 Barbara' Cheffinch, his lady, daughter of Wm. 
 Cheffinch, esq; closet-keeper to King Charles II. 
 
 Thomas, second Lord Weymouth, grandson of the 
 before-mentioned Barbara. 
 
 Grace Countess of Granville. 
 
 Sir James Thynne. 
 
 Lady Arabella Stewart, daughter of Charles 
 Stewart Earl of Lennox, and younger brother to 
 Lord Darnley, father to James I. From her 
 relationship to royalty sprang all her misfor- 
 tunes, hinc ilia lacrymx ; Elizabeth and James I. 
 both regarded her with a jealous eye, and in 
 the commencement of that monarch's reign, 
 when Lord Cobham's conspiracy was detefted, 
 it being supposed that one object of it was to 
 place the crown on the head of Arabella, she 
 was confined to her house. Here she married 
 privately Sir William Seymour, afterwards 
 Duke of Somerset; but the stolen wedding 
 
L 60 ] 
 
 only loaded her with fresh misfortunes. On 
 its being discovered, she was committed to 
 close custody at the house of Sir Thomas Parry, 
 at Lambeth, and her husband sent to the Tower. 
 From these respeSiive places of confinement 
 they contrived to escape the same day, June 
 3d, 161 1 ; but with different success. Her ill 
 stars continued to shed their malign influence 
 on the unhappy Arabella. Following her hus- 
 band, who had arrived at Dunkirk, she was 
 seized in Calais road, and committed to the 
 Tower, where insanity happily relieved her from 
 the conviftion and contemplation of her great 
 misfortunes. She died in confinement Sept. 
 27th, 1615; and was buried near her unfortu- 
 nate relative, Mary Queen of Scots, in Henry 
 the Seventh's chapel. 
 
 Charles the First, when prince; remarkable 
 from the circumstance of the countenance not 
 exhibiting that gloom, which is observable In 
 all the other portraits of this monarch. It 
 was the cast of melancholy in Charles's 
 face, which led Bernini the sculptor, (who 
 was engaged to make a marble bust of the 
 king, from a painting by Vandyke) to prog- 
 nosticate that Charles was born to be un- 
 fortunate. 
 
L 41 1 
 
 The breakfast-room is fitted up with a tasty 
 airiness, for which we are not prepared by the 
 heavy outside of the mansion ; it contains the 
 following portraits: — 
 
 George Granville Lord Lansdown, so created 
 by Queen Anne, Dec. 31st, 1711; who mar- 
 ried Lady Mary Thynne, daughter of Edward 
 the first Earl of Jersey, the reli£l of Thomas 
 Thynne, esq; of Old-Windsor Berks, and mo- 
 ther of the second Lord Weymouth. 
 
 Charles the First, by Vandyke, with his usual 
 truth of drapery and beauty of flesh. 
 
 Three of this prince's children, by the same 
 masterly hand. 
 
 Queen Mary, the avaricious, the sanguinary, 
 the revengeful, and the proud; as plain in per- 
 son as deformed in mind. Who, had she not 
 been influenced by bigotry, would probably 
 have passed through life a mere contemptible 
 chara&er; the spirit of the Romish religion 
 gave a new complexion to her mind, and 
 made her a hateful one. It converted her 
 peevishness into rage, and her coldness into 
 cruelty. 
 
 Wentworth Earl of Strafford, the friend and fa- 
 vourite of Charles I.; and afterwards sacrificed 
 by his patron to the senseless indignation of 
 
[ 62 ] 
 
 the populace; a sacrifice which the king fondly 
 hoped would have purchased reconciliation to 
 his people. Never did the unfortunate mo- 
 narch so desert himself as upon this occasion, 
 never did he so much forfeit the praise that 
 was fairly due to hlfri for all the milder vir* 
 tues of the mind, as when he passed the bill of 
 attainder against Strafford; and never were the 
 words of the Psalmist more strikingly applied,* 
 than by the Earl, when the fatal news was 
 communicated to him, that his friend had given 
 him up, " Put not your trust in princes, nt>r 
 " in any child of man, for in them there is no 
 " salvation." 
 
 Lord Torrington, father to the present Mar- 
 chioness; an excellent modern produftion, 
 from the pencil of Hoppner. 
 
 A massive oaken stair-case, the sides of which 
 are hung with portraits, amongst which are, 
 Algernon Earl of Northumberland, Count Teckley, 
 and his wife, condufts us to the alcove bed- 
 chamber, covered w T ith old tapestry. In this 
 room is a good head of 
 
 Bisho/i Kenn, the pious and the mild; a firm 
 guardian of the reformed church, and one of 
 the seven bishops who boldly dared the frowns 
 
[ 63 ] 
 
 of James II. and the terrors of the tower, rather 
 than assent to the declaration of indulgence. 
 When William HI. was raised to the throne by 
 the will of the English people, a fair path to 
 dignity and promotion opened itself to Kenn, 
 could he have tampered with his conscience, 
 and betrayed his faith; but rather than falsify 
 the oath of allegiance he had sworn to James, 
 he magnanimously relinquished his bishopric 
 of Bath and Wells, and retired to Longleat, 
 the seat of his friend the Marquis of Bath. 
 Little effeft, indeed, could worldly honours be 
 supposed to have on the mind of one, who, like 
 Bishop Kenn, always travelled with his shroud; 
 an admonitory garment which he put on as 
 soon as he arrived at Longleat, and wore ever * 
 after. He died at his noble friend's mansion 
 A.D. 1 71 1, and was buried at the eastern end 
 of the church of Frome. 
 
 The Head of Tintoret, painted by himself. 
 This artist, whose real name was Giacomo 
 Robusto, and who is frequently called the furious, 
 was the. son of a dyer at Venice, and pupil of 
 Titian; who, jealous of his genius, dismissed 
 him from his family. Perhaps closer study of 
 the w r orks of his master would have made his 
 own more perfe£t; at present, we generally find 
 
C 64 j 
 
 his compositions and dresses improper, and his 
 outline incorre£i; but his colouring and its de- 
 pendencies are admirable. Obiit 1 594, JEt. 82. 
 
 Gerrard Earl of Macclesfield, one of the lords 
 who accompanied the Prince of Orange to this 
 country, when he was called to fill the throne 
 by the will of the English people. 
 
 Lord Beauchamfi. 
 
 Mary Queen of Scots. 
 
 John Fisher Bishop of Winchester, a martyr for 
 the sake of conscience, though in a wrong 
 cause. Refusing to take the oath of the king's 
 supremacy, he was committed to the Tower, 
 but he had the honour of having Sir Thomas 
 More for his companion. Here the Pope con- 
 ferred on him the dignity of cardinal, a title 
 that hastened his end; Henry considering it as 
 an insult upon himself, brought him to trial. 
 The consequence was, as might be expe£ted, 
 immediate execution. 
 
 Jane Shore, shewn for an original, but pro- 
 bably a copy; the too tender beauty of the day, 
 first the mistress of Edward IV. afterwards 
 the wife of Lord Hastings, and at length the 
 viftim of the malignant Richard III. Delivered 
 over by this hard-hearted tyrant to the disci- 
 pline of the church, she expiated her frailties 
 
[ 65 ] 
 
 in a white sheet, at St. Paul's cathedral. Here, 
 it is supposed by most writers, that her amours 
 terminated ; but we are informed, by a letter 
 from Richard III. to the Bishop of Lincoln, (in 
 No. I. appendix to the first volume of Hard- 
 wicke's State Papers) that after her penance 
 she had another admirer, one Mr. Thomas 
 Lynom. His temporary protection, however, 
 did not shield her from subsequent want 5 she 
 lived many years in abjeft poverty, and died at 
 length, if not, as the poet has described her, by 
 being starved, at least in the extremity of pe- 
 nury and wretchedness. 
 
 The western gallery contains some of the finest 
 originals in England; they are mostly whole 
 lengths, and represent, amongst many others, 
 
 Sir Walter Covert, of Slangham, in the county 
 of Sussex ; of an ancient family there. 
 
 Jane Shirley , wife of Sir Walter Covert; and 
 after his death, Lady Holies. 
 
 Henry the Fourth, of France* 
 
 James the Second, when Duke of York. 
 
 Catherine of Braganza, sister to Don Alphonso 
 King of Portugal, and wife to Charles II. She 
 was doomed to lament first the infidelity and 
 indifference of her husband, and then to endure 
 
 F 
 
[ K ] 
 
 the insolence of his strumpets. The dress, in- 
 deed, in which she gave the first meeting to 
 that libertine prince, was not formed to capti- 
 vate the head of a polished court, where beauty 
 and elegance of attire were certainly not made 
 secondary considerations; it is accurately pre- 
 served in a scarce print, by Faithorne, and re- 
 presents her in a black gown, with slashed 
 sleeves, point handkerchief and ruffles, large 
 farthingale, and laced petticoat. The hair for- 
 mally curled like an old-fashioned peruke. 
 Charles the Second. 
 
 Finch Earl of Nottingham, first attorney-general, 
 and afterwards lord chancellor, in the time of 
 Charles II. by whom he was highly esteemed. 
 In the midst of a profligate court, and a corrupt 
 age, he conduced himself with honour and in- 
 tegrity; and though a courtier, and in power, 
 had few public a6ts with which to accuse his 
 conscience, if we except his presiding (as lord 
 high steward) in the court which condemned, 
 contrary to evidence and equity, the unfortu- 
 nate Lord Strafford, already oppressed with age 
 and infirmities; the miserable viftim of a detes- 
 table junto, and a deluded, or iniquitous court. 
 
 William Duke of Somerset, second son of 
 Edward Lord Beauchamp, and husband of 
 
C 67 ] 
 
 Lady Arabella Stewart, mentioned before. He 
 survived his unfortunate wife, lived to succeed 
 to the title of Somerset, and became a firm 
 friend and servant to Charles I. 
 
 Bishop, Juxon, who administered consolation 
 to the last moments of Charles L 
 
 Bennet Earl of Arlington, made secretary of 
 state 1663; one of the junto distinguished by 
 the name of the cabal, in the reign of Charles II. 
 which plunged the nation in an unjust and un-* 
 necessary war with the Dutch, wherein his 
 Majesty got little else than hard blows and 
 disgrace. Is this instance, my dear sir, with- 
 out a parallel in the English annals? 
 
 The Earl of Essex, clad in white satin from 
 head to foot, a most beautiful figure, though 
 probably not an original. The elegant person 
 and accomplishments of the favourite plead a 
 powerful apology for the regard which Eliza- 
 beth bestowed upon him ; her pride, indeed, 
 got the better of it for one fatal moment, when 
 she signed the warrant of his execution, and 
 Essex fell a vi£Hm to a mingled emotion of 
 Jealousy and ragcj but the triumph over affec- 
 tion was only obtained by a struggle, that cost 
 the queen, first her peace, and afterwards her 
 life. Essex was a writer as well as a gallant ; 
 
[ 68 ] 
 
 and Elizabeth found an additional induce- 
 ment to love the hero, in his being adorned 
 with the graces of a scholar, and the accom- 
 plishments of a gentleman. " The elegant per- 
 * c spicuity, (observes Mr. Walpole) the concise- 
 " ness, the quick strong reasonings^ and the en- 
 " gaging good-breeding of his letters, carry great 
 " marks of genius. Yet his youth gave no 
 <c promise of parts; his father died with a mean 
 " opinion of him. The malicious subtleties of 
 " an able court were an over-match for his im- 
 " petuous spirit ; yet he was far from wanting art ; 
 " but was so confident of the queen's partiality, 
 u that he did not bend to her as his enemies 
 " did, who had not the same hold on her tender 
 cc passions. He trusted to being always able 
 " to master her by absenting himself; his ene- 
 cc mies embraced those moments to ruin him. 
 cc I am aware, that it is become a mode to treat 
 cc the queen's passion for him as a romance. 
 cc Voltaire laughs at it, and observes, that 
 " when her struggle about him must have 
 " been the greatest, (the time of his death) 
 " she was sixty-eight — had he been sixty-eight, 
 " it is probable she would not have been in 
 cc love with him. Whenever Essex afted a 
 V fit of sickness, not a day passed without the 
 
[ 69 ] 
 
 " queen's sending often to see him, and once 
 " went so far as to sit long by him, and order 
 " his broths and things. It is recorded, by a dili? 
 " gent observer of that court, that in one of his 
 " sick moods he took the liberty of going up 
 " to the queen in his night-gown. In the height 
 " of these fretful fooleries, there was a mask at 
 " Blackfriars on the marriage of Lord Herbert 
 " and Mrs. Russell. Eight lady maskers chose 
 u eight more to dance the measures. Mrs. 
 " Fitton, who led them, went to the queen, and 
 " wooed her to dance, Her Majesty asked 
 " what she was ? ' Affection, she said. " Affec- 
 " tion /" said the queen ; " Affection is false" 
 " Were not these the murmurs of a heart ill at 
 " ease? Yet her Majesty rose and danced. She 
 " was then sixty-eight. Sure it; was as natural 
 <c for her to be in love !" 
 
 Frances Duchess of Richmond, who first married 
 Prannel, the son of a vintner; on his death she . 
 was courted by Sir George Rodney, whom she 
 first encouraged, and then deserted, by marrying 
 Edward Earl of Hertford ; he wrote her a letter 
 in his blood, and then ran himself through the 
 body with his sword. She afterwards married 
 Ludowich Duke of Richmond, to whom she 
 is said to have administered some powerful 
 
[ 70 J 
 
 dose, as he was found dead in his bed. She is 
 drawn in weeds, with the duke's pi&ure pen- 
 dant at her breast, This portrait is particularly 
 mentioned in the ? Anecdotes of Painting/ the 
 pleasing writer of which also specifies a dupli- 
 cate in the possession of the Rev, Mr. Masters ; 
 it is since his death removed to North-Court, 
 the seat of Richard Bull, esq; in the Isle of 
 Wight, which may be truly pronounced a ma* 
 gasin des arts. 
 
 Sir Thomas Thynne, the grandson of the foun- 
 der of Longleat, in pink stockings, and other 
 singularities of the dress of the times, and his 
 two wives ; the first, Maria daughter of George 
 LordAudley; the second, Catherine, daughter 
 of Charles, brother to the Viscount Bindon; 
 a lady that fell a viftim to the force of imagina- 
 tion. She is painted pregnant, as she died in 
 childbed. Having dreamt that her lying-in 
 would be fatal, the conceit made so deep an 
 impression on her, that she a&ually realized it 
 shortly after her delivery. 
 
 The long gallery is still more fruitful in por- 
 traits than any of the preceding rooms, and 
 though some of them are evidently copies, yet 
 
C 71 ] 
 
 bein<r ancient ones, the cohesion well deserves 
 attention: 
 
 Edward Stafford Duke of Buckingham, one of 
 the vi£iims to the jealousy of Henry, that mix- 
 ture abhorred of cruelty and lust. The weak 
 vanity of Stafford cost him his life. A speech 
 which he had made in private society, " that 
 " if Henry were to die without issue, he would 
 " lay claim to the crown, as descendant of Anne 
 " of Glocester, grand-daughter of Edward III. 
 " and would then punish the ambition of Wol- 
 <c sey," was reported to the minister, and by 
 him exaggerated to the king. This was suffi- 
 cient to excite his fury, which, when once in- 
 flamed, could only be sated by blood. Staf- 
 ford was tried for high treason, and condemned 
 upon the evidence of a servant and a monk; his 
 sentence raised the pity and indignation of the 
 people, and Norfolk, the high-steward upon, 
 the occasion, could not refrain from tears when 
 he delivered it. The trying situation called 
 forth a spirit in Buckingham which the weakness 
 and vanity of his former charafter did not pro- 
 mise 3 he heard the sentence with composure, 
 and when it was concluded, replied, " My 
 " Lord of Norfolk, you speak to me as to a 
 u traitor, but traitor was I never. My lord, I 
 
[ n ] 
 
 * malign you not for what you have done; but 
 u may the eternal God forgive you my death, 
 u as I do. I shall never sue to the king for life ; 
 " however, he is a gracious prince, and more 
 " grace may come from him than I desire; and 
 
 * so I intreat you, my lords, and all my fellows, 
 " to pray for me." Henry, in his mercy, (and 
 it was as much as could be expe£ted from the 
 tyrant) changed the legal punishment into 
 simple decapitation, and Buckingham was ac- 
 cordingly beheaded in 1521. 
 
 Sir Thomas Overbury, an honest courtier; the 
 monitor and friend, but afterwards the viftim, 
 of Carr Earl of Somerset, one of the transient 
 favourites of the fickie James L The tragical 
 fate of Sir Thomas, which has been worked up 
 into a drama, is well known; a sad story, in 
 which that female demon, the Countess of 
 Essex, makes so prominent a chara&er. But 
 retributive justice pursued her even on this side 
 the grave ; the very cause for which she had 
 plunged herself into adultery and murder, be- 
 came the objeft of her hatred ; Somerset de- 
 spised, and the world detested, her. Her days 
 were miserable, and her death loathsome. Sir 
 Thomas was poisoned in 1613. 
 
[ 73 ] 
 
 Elizabeth Widville, queen of Edward IV. 
 for whose beauty he was content to sacrifice 
 his French alliance, and, what might have been 
 of greater importance to him, the friendship of 
 the faithful Earl of Warwick; who, at the 
 time of his unadvised match with Elizabeth, 
 was negociating a marriage for him in France. 
 The king-making Earl was riot to be insulted 
 with impunity, and plucked Edward from the 
 throne, to which he had ascended by his assist- 
 ance. But fickle fortune, deserting at length 
 her favourite Warwick, smiled upon the arms 
 of Edward, and the Earl was slain in opposing 
 his sovereign at the battle of Barnet. 
 
 Sir John Ccventry y grandson of Thomas first 
 Earl of Coventry. In Parliament he was dis- 
 tinguished for wit; and being frequently in 
 opposition to the measures of the court, he 
 had nearly fallen a sacrifice to the revengeful 
 spirit of his opponents; having indulged his 
 fancy in the discussion of a question regarding 
 the taxation of playhouses, it was considered 
 a personal insult offered to the king, and four 
 armed ruffians were hired to waylay and dis- 
 patch him ; but he so gallantly defended him- 
 self that they only in part discharged their 
 office, and cut his nose to the bone. This atro- 
 
C 74 I 
 
 cious a£l was loudly resented by the House of 
 Commons, who passed a bill of banishment 
 against the perpetrators, with special clauses 
 that it should not be in the king's power to par- 
 don them ; and that it should be death to maim 
 any person. This a£t still exists, under the 
 title of the " Coventry Act." 
 
 Francis the First, King of France, and his mis- 
 tress. Francis excelled his great rival Charles 
 V. in nobleness of mind and candourof spirit, as 
 much as he surpassed his other powerful neigh- 
 bour Henry VIII. in courtesy and generosity. 
 
 Thomas Cavendish, or Candy she, of Suffolk; 
 the famous navigator in that period of bold 
 adventure and discovery, the reign of Elizabeth. 
 On the 2 1 st July, 1586, he sailed from Ply- 
 mouth with two ships and a bark under his 
 command, passed through the Streights of Ma- 
 gellan into the South Sea ; and returning by 
 the Cape of Good Hope made the circumvavi- 
 gation of the world in two years and two 
 months. The success of the first expedition 
 animated him to attempt a second, which cost 
 him his life; for being hindered by contrary 
 winds from passing through the Straights, he 
 was driven back to Brazil, where he fell a vic- 
 tim to the diseases of the climate. 
 
[ 75 ] 
 
 Admiral Chastillon, a very fine head. 
 
 Anna Bulleyn, another example of Henry the 
 Eighth's brutality. Her portrait does not im- 
 press one with an idea of exalted beauty — but 
 the brawny monarch was not nice ! 
 
 Sir Thomas Gresham, one of the ornaments of 
 Elizabeth's reign; who built the Royal Ex- 
 change, and founded the college which now 
 bears his name. 
 
 Esme Stuart Baron D'Aubigny, son of John 
 Stuart, second brother to Matthew Earl of 
 Lennox. Being dispatched into Scotland by 
 the Duke of Guise, for the purpose of embroil- 
 ing Queen Elizabeth with that country, he be- 
 came a great favourite of James, who created 
 him Duke of Lennox. Dazzled by the sun- 
 shine of royal regard, he quickly lost his discre- 
 tion; abused his power, and incensed the no- 
 bility to such a degree, that they obliged him 
 to fly to France in 15823 where he soou 
 after died, 
 
 In the western bed-chamber we find the por- 
 traits of — 
 
 Henry Prince of Wales, the amiable son of an 
 unworthy father, who has been suspe£ied of 
 administering to his death by poison, impelled 
 
[ 76 ] 
 
 by spleen and jealousy. Be this as it may, 
 James countenanced the rumour, and betrayed 
 no symptoms of grief on the dissolution of his 
 son ; he would not suffer his courtiers to wear 
 mourning, nor the preparations for his daugh- 
 ter's marriage to be suspended. What may 
 we not suspeft of so unfeeling a parent? 
 
 George Monk Duke of Albemarle. Brought up 
 in the army, and attached to the royal cause, 
 Monk continued an aftive soldier for Charles I. 
 till the siege of Nantwich, when the cavaliers 
 were beaten, and Colonel Monk taken. After 
 a long imprisonment, Monk sacrificed his ho- 
 nour, faith, and allegiance, and sided with the 
 parliamentarians; a crime which he afterwards 
 expiated, by paving the restoration of Charles II. 
 and assisting him to ascend the throne of his 
 fathers. A dukedom was the reward of 
 his services. 
 
 Elizabeth Cavendish, wife of Christopher Duke 
 of Albemarle. 
 
 Sir Orlando Bridgeman, successor, in the office 
 of lord-keeper, to Lord Clarendon; a nobleman 
 of unblemished virtue and incorruptible inte- 
 grity, who was deprived of his situation, and 
 driven from the kingdom, but not dishonoured, 
 by the ungrateful Charles II. Preferring his 
 
•[ 77 ] 
 
 conscience to his place, and refusing to affix 
 the seal to the declaration for suspending the 
 penal laws, he was removed from his office, 
 and succeeded by the nobleman whose portrait 
 occurs next. 
 
 Ashley Coofier Earl of Shaftesbury, the turbulent, 
 the subtle, and inconsistent; who, as Lord 
 Orford observes, " had canted tyranny under 
 " Cromwell, pra£tised it under Charles IL and 
 €C who disgraced the cause of liberty, by being 
 " the busiest instrument for it, when every 
 $ other party had rejected him. It was the 
 " weakest vanity in him to brag, that Crom- 
 " well would have made him king; the least 
 " he could hope for, was not to be believed; if 
 " true, it only proved that Cromwell took him 
 u for a fool. That he should have afted in the 
 " trials of the regicides was but agreeable to 
 " his character — or to his want of it." In 
 1672, he was made lord-keeper; in the follow- 
 ing year be deserted the court party, and lost 
 the seals; in 1677, was committed to the 
 Tow r er; in 1679, again admitted to the coun- 
 cil-board by his suspicious master, and expelled 
 from it the same year; in 1683, he retired to 
 Holland, and shortly afterwards died at Am- 
 sterdam. 
 
[ 78 } 
 
 Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolk, the friend and 
 favourite of Henry VIII. the joint adventurer 
 in his amours and sports. Though he married 
 Henry's sister, Mary, the relift of Lewis of 
 France, without his privity or consent,* yet, 
 the king could not long be indignant with the 
 companion of his pleasures. He was forgiven, 
 and, what is still more extraordinary, enjoyed 
 the regards of the fickle monarch till his death. 
 
 But one of the most singular pi&ures in this 
 noble repository, (which contains many more 
 portraits than I have enumerated) is a work of 
 Lucas de Heere, a Flemish painter, born in 
 the year 1534, ^who, for a short time, worked 
 in England. The subject is a whole family, 
 probably that of Sir George Brooke Lord Cob- 
 ham, who died in the first year of Queen Eli- 
 zabeth, leaving eight sons and two daughters. 
 The figures are ten, less than life, and half 
 lengths. It represents an elderly man at table, 
 
 * Perhaps the monarch might have been flattered by the hu- 
 mility of Brandon's motto on his marriage, which contained 
 more moral sentiment, simplicity, and good sense, than we should 
 expect from the rough soldier of the sixteenth century: — 
 
 " Cloth of gold, do not despise, 
 
 " Though thou be match'd with cloth of frieze; 
 
 " Cloth of frieze, be not too bold, 
 
 rt Though thou be matched with cloth of gold." 
 
[ 79 ] 
 
 with two ladies, and seven children before them, 
 three of which were twins, as appears by the 
 notification of their ages over the heads of each. 
 They are amusing themselves with fruit; near 
 which are a parrot and a monkey. These are 
 inferior to the human figures, the heads of 
 which have great life and nature. 
 
 The green dressing-room is ornamented and dig- 
 nified by a most noble whole length portrait of 
 
 Sir Walter Raw/eig/t, the gallant and the 
 learned; who, like Cervantes, during the soli- 
 tude and disconsolation of imprisonment, pro- 
 duced a literary w r ork, (the History of the 
 World) a volume of equal spirit and research. 
 He fell a martyr to the malice of his enemies, 
 and the contemptible revenge of James, ex- 
 cited by the disappointment of his expectations 
 of golden spoil from America. Seldom had 
 Fortune more unworthily shot her bolts, than in 
 that day when she aimed them against 
 
 c< Thee, accomplish'd Raleigh ! — 
 
 <e When like a goodly hart thou wert beset 
 
 €€ With crafty blood-hounds lurching for thy life, 
 
 c< While as they feigned to chace thee fairly down : 
 
 " And that foul Scot, the minion-ktesing king, 
 
 " Pursu'd with havock in the tyrannous hunt." 
 
[ 80 ] 
 
 William Duke of Hamilton, liberal, upright, and 
 undaunted % attached to the fortunes of Charles 
 the Second, and strenuous in his endeavours to 
 restore him to the crown of his fathers. The 
 battle of Worcester, which dispersed the army 
 of the king, proved fatal to the duke, for shortly 
 after it he died of the wounds which he had 
 there received. 
 
 Sir Philip Sydney, the celebrated author of 
 Arcadia; the ornament of Elizabeth's court, 
 where he shone the unrivalled model of gal- 
 lantry and generosity, learning, and taste. He 
 was mortally wounded at an unsuccessful at- 
 tack upon Gravelines, and died in 1586. 
 
 Lucius Gary Lord Viscount Falkland, a celebra- 
 ted portrait of one of the most accomplished 
 characters in English history. Clarendon, his 
 contemporary and friend, has drawn the picture 
 of his mind and manners in a light, which, al- 
 lowing every thing for the partiality of friend- 
 ship, still evinces that the original must have 
 been near perfection. A patriot upon prin- 
 ciple, he had opposed the measures of the 
 court as long as they appeared to him to be 
 destrufitive of the liberties of the subjeCt; but 
 when he perceived the balance of the constitu- 
 tion was likely to be overturned by the pre- 
 
[ 81 ] 
 
 ponderance of democratic principles, he de- 
 serted the popular party, and attached himself 
 to the king's. He was killed fighting under the 
 royal banners in the battle of Newbury 1643. 
 
 Robert Dudley Earl of Leicester, vain and 
 splendid, and therefore more agreeable to 
 Elizabeth, whose favour he enjoyed for a con- 
 siderable time. But the respeft of the Queen 
 did not extend to his memory* for on his death 
 in 1508, she ordered his effefts to be sold at 
 public au&ion, to liquidate the debts due from 
 him to the crown. This is a very curious pic- 
 ture, and contains the portrait of a page, 
 apparently a dwarf, which was a very com- 
 mon appendage to greatness in the sixteenth 
 century. 
 
 Graham Viscount Dundee, the strenuous adhe- 
 rent of James II. and opposer of William III. 
 whose forces he defeated at the pass of Killy- 
 crankie, but perished in the battle. 
 
 Sir Henry Sydney, afterwards Lord Rom ney, 
 brother to the heroic patriot Algernon; a 
 partizan and favourite of William, and raised 
 by him successively to the offices of one of the 
 lords justices of Ireland, and lord lieutenant of 
 the same country; where he disgraced his 
 brother and his patron, in the oppression 
 
 Q 
 
f 82 ] 
 
 of a kingdom, which has too often endured the 
 squeezings of peculators without redress. 
 
 The duke's room contains a head of Mary 
 Queen of Scots. If it be an original, it must have 
 been taken after sorrow and confinement had 
 driven the roses from her cheeks, and length- 
 ened the muscles of her face. 
 
 Many portraits also decorate the stone stair- 
 case; amongst which is the stern countenance 
 of the energetic Luther, and the head of Villieri 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 The chapel bed-chamber closes our entertain- 
 ment, and presents a curious trio — a sensualist, 
 a devotee, and a wit 5 original pi&ures of 
 Henry VIII. in the fifty-fourth year of his age, 
 Maria Theresa, and Charles Sackville Earl of 
 Dorset. 
 
 Longleat formerly possessed the largest and 
 best-stocked aviary in England, containing a 
 variety of rare birds; but of late years it has 
 been neglefted, and exhibits at present nothing 
 particularly curious, except a male and female 
 kangaroo, brought from Botany-Bay, and pre- 
 sented by their Majesties to the Dowager 
 Marchioness of Bath. They are the only ani- 
 mals of the kind in the kingdom. 
 
£ 83 ] 
 
 Continuing our course through the extensive 
 park of Longleat, in a different dire&ion to that 
 which had introduced us to the house, we soon 
 get into the turnpike-road, and at the distance 
 of four miles entered the demesne of Marston- 
 Bigot, the seat of the Earl of Cork and Orrery. 
 This mansion, which was built by the father of 
 the present possessor, is seen from Longleat, and: 
 assumes in the perspective a magnificent ap- 
 pearance. The front, indeed, is extensive, and 
 deceives with the semblance of majesty, but 
 (the building being low in proportion to its 
 length) like pleasures seen at a distance, it 
 appears greater thafi it really is, and dwindles 
 as we approach. It is, however, pleasantly 
 situated on the south-east slope of a gently 
 declining hill, and commands a variegated view, 
 including a richly-cultivated flat immediately 
 in front, bounded to the right by the high 
 grounds of Stour'con, and to the left by the 
 wooded hills of Longleat park. The judicious 
 alterations which are now executing by the 
 present lord, will not only improve the mansion 
 in appearance without, but render it much 
 more comfortable within. By these, the whole 
 range of rooms on every floor, instead of lead- 
 ing into each other, will be conneSied by well- 
 
[ 84 ] 
 
 disposed passages; and the laundry, and nu- 
 merous offices, be rendered distinft from the 
 dwelling apartments. The drawing-room, 
 which is now too small, will be enlarged by 
 including another within it, the lowness of its 
 ceiling being relieved by a well-contrived re- 
 cess ; and the house altogether be made more 
 secluded, quiet, and retired, by turning the 
 public road, which at present runs along the . 
 front. This manor, like most others in the 
 kingdom, was the reward of a Norman chief- 
 tain, for assistance in the invasion of England ; 
 and William the Conqueror conferred it on 
 Roger Arundel, as soon as he had torn the 
 crown from Harold, by the battle of Hastings. 
 It afterwards came into the family of De 
 Wandestrie, and from them descended to the 
 Bigots, or Bigods, hereditary earls-marshal of 
 England, from whom it received its additional 
 name. The Orchards of Wanstran possessed 
 it in the reign of Henry V. ; and the lords of 
 Stourton in the succeeding century; from 
 whom, through some intermediate holders, it 
 came (in the beginning of the sixteenth cen- 
 tury) into the noble family to which it at pre- 
 sent belongs. The grounds are small, but well 
 disposed., and assume a particular interest from 
 
L « J 
 
 a neat little building which stands within them, 
 consisting of one room, fitted up by the late 
 earl in commemoration of the following cir- 
 cumstance: — When Charles I. was decapi- 
 tated, Roger Earl of Orrery, disgusted with the 
 severity of the Parliament, left his service in 
 Ireland, and retired to this estate, resolved to 
 sequester himself from the tumult and confu- 
 sion of public affairs, and keep aloof from 
 scenes which involved the partizans of either 
 side in danger and anxiety. Adjoining to his 
 mansion was the parish church, which his 
 lordship regularly attended on the sabbath- 
 day. One Sunday, on going thither, he was 
 surprised to find that the licensed minister did 
 not appear, and after waiting some time for 
 his arrival in vain, he had left his pew, with an 
 intention to return home, when one of his ser- 
 vants informed him, that a person in the church 
 had signified his readiness to ascend the pulpit, 
 provided it were agreeable to his lordship. 
 The exemplary nobleman immediately granted 
 his request, when a respeftable looking man, 
 in very plain attire, appeared in the rostrum, 
 and delivered a discourse, at once sensible, 
 learned, and pious. Equally surprised and 
 delighted with the preacher, Lord Orrery 
 
[ ] 
 
 begged his company to dinner, and at table 
 desired to be informed of his name and his- 
 tory; to which request, the unknown answered 
 in the following manner: — " My lord, my name 
 " is Asberry; I am a clergyman of the Church 
 " of England, and a loyal subjc6i to the king. 
 " I have lived three years in a poor cottage, 
 " under your garden wall, within a few paces 
 < c of your lordship's house. My son lives with 
 " me, and we dig and read by turns. I have 
 " a little money, and some few books, and I 
 " submit cheerfully to the will of Providence. " 
 The earl, struck with the praftical philosophy 
 and independent spirit of the old gentleman, 
 immediately took him under his protection, 
 procured him an allowance of thirty pounds 
 per annum, without an obligation to take the 
 covenant, and bestowed upon him the little 
 cottage in question for his residence as long as 
 he lived. Here he passed his days in quiet and 
 content, and died possessed, not of overflowing 
 coffers, but of a property which, you will agree 
 with me, is Jikelv in the end to turn to much 
 better account— a conscience void of offence! 
 
 Marston-Bigot house contains some good pic- 
 tures, which we must take in the different 
 rooms as they occur. 
 
[ w ] 
 
 The dining-room ; an Ascension, by t wo scho- 
 lars of Raphael, whose portraits are said to be 
 introduced into the piece. A copy from 
 the wonderful original. — The Death of Cleo- 
 patra, a fine pi£ture by Alexander Veronese. 
 The light and shade of this pi£ture are incom- 
 parably contrasted. — Lot and his Daughters, 
 less than life; Salvator Rosa.— -Susannah and 
 the Elders; Cavaliero Calibresi. 
 
 The [iassage-room\ a portrait of Mr. Pope, 
 painted in 1716. — Tom. Southern, the poet 
 and play-writer, 1734. 
 
 The bii/iard-room ; Richard Boyle, first Earl 
 of Cork, and lord high admiral.-— Charles Boyle, 
 esq; of Orrery, 1707, the inventor of the orrery; 
 a circumstance which suggested his title. 
 
 The anti-room; Hippomenes and Atalanta, 
 t>y Poussin. — The Discovery of Achilles, by 
 Vandyke. — The Finding of Moses, by Polem- 
 berg.— AQaeon and Diana, by Francesco Schola. 
 — Two Landscapes, by Zuccharelli. — A curi- 
 ous Head, by Holbein.— Turk's ditto, by Van- 
 dyke. — Child brought to Christ, by Lanfranc. 
 St. Mark x. 13.— The Marriage of St. Cathe- 
 rine, by Carlo Maratti.-^- Jacob and Rebecca, 
 by Paul Veronese ; and a Head, by Rembrandt. 
 —A fine antique Mosaic, about thirty inches 
 
[ 88 j 
 
 high, exhibiting a female figure, hangs up in 
 the passage. 
 
 The library, well stocked with valuable 
 books, contains the portrait of the Honourable 
 Robert Boyle, the philosopher; dear to the 
 scientific world from his numerous discoveries 
 and deep researches in natural philosophy, and 
 equally dear to the Christian world, for his la- 
 bours in behalf of true religion. In the same 
 room is the second air-pump that was con- 
 strufted, the invention of this great man. The 
 first was presented by himself to the Royal 
 Society; it works with one piston only, 
 and was so compleat in its design and con- 
 struction, that nearly a century has been able 
 to add no other improvement to it than a 
 second piston. The original orrery also is 
 preserved, thirty inches in diameter; but sadly 
 out of order. 
 
 The breakfast-room, displays much taste in its 
 decorations, together with two curious speci- 
 mens of delicate wax-work — landscapes, and 
 figures. All the apartments above are fitted 
 up with a neatness that pleases more than 
 splendour, since it conveys the ideas of com- 
 fort and utility, with which the glitter of gold, 
 and the rustling of damask, are ever at variance. 
 
[ 89 ] 
 
 A ride of four miles brings us to Maiden- 
 Bradley, the seat of the Duke of Somerset, 
 which came into the family toward the con- 
 clusion of the sixteenth century; a plain sub- 
 stantial stone mansion, with two large wings 
 projecting at right angles from the body of the 
 structure. A bare unadorned country spreads 
 itself before the house, and nothing around it 
 affords any traces of that magnificence for 
 which the family was once so remarkable. The 
 church, a lowly antique edifice, adjoins it on 
 the left. I need not tell you, that I entered 
 this pile with particular veneration, when you 
 know that it holds the sacred dust of a patriot, 
 to whose exertions my countrymen owe, in a 
 great degree, that palladium of British freedom, 
 the Habeas Corpus Aft ; which precludes the 
 rigours of arbitrary imprisonment, by obliging 
 the judge, under severe penalties, to grant a 
 writ at the request of every prisoner, directing 
 the iailor to oroduce him in court, and to cer- 
 tify the causes for which he was committed. 
 This character was Sir Edward Seymour, a 
 senator who made a conspicuous figure in the 
 reigns of Charles II. William, and Anne. It is 
 true, indeed, that in other respe&s he inclined 
 to Toryism ; but the rigid integrity of his poli- 
 
[ 90 ] 
 
 tical conduft entitles him to our respe£t, 
 though we cannot admire his creed ; and he 
 at least claims a merit that every statesman 
 cannot boast, of having preserved an unvarying 
 consistency during his whole career in those 
 sentiments which he avowed on his entrance 
 into public life, and of never having sacrificed 
 his principles for the sake of retaining his place, 
 or extending his influence. The monument 
 of Sir Edward Seymour is of marble, and con- 
 tains the figure of the senator in a reclining 
 attitude, and resting upon his arm. Above 
 him are two cupids, the one holding an in- 
 verted torch, as an emblem of extinguished 
 life; the other, the figure of a serpent, as the 
 emblem of immortality. A long inscription 
 commemorates his virtues, and the obligations 
 which he conferred on posterity. He was 
 born in 1663, and died in 1707. 
 
 A little silk manufa£tory enlivens Maiden- 
 Bradley, established by Mr. Ward, of Bruton, 
 about nine miles from this village. Fifty- 
 three children, great and small, are employed 
 in spinning two of the fine filaments, as pro- 
 duced by the worm, together; this work is 
 carried to Bruton, when, with the assistance 
 of ingenious machinery, the silk thread for use 
 
[ 91 ] 
 
 Is made, by uniting the requisite number of 
 the threads manufa&ured at Maiden-Bradley, 
 The children employed (who begin working 
 before they are six years of age) earn 
 wages proportioned to their expedition and 
 ability; the youngest make about three half- 
 pence or two-pence per day, and the most ex- 
 perienced half-a-crown or three shillings per 
 week; but for this they are expefted to work 
 from five o'clock in the morning till six at night! 
 
 The road from Maiden-Bradley to Stourton, 
 for six or seven miles, is tame and unvaried ; an 
 uniformity, however, which is amply recom- 
 pensed by the beauty and variety of Stourhead 
 grounds, the seat of Sir Richard Colt Hoare, 
 bart. A situation the most judicious has. been 
 chosen for this mansion, commanding in front 
 a view that sweeps over a large cultivated tra£t 
 of subjacent country, terminated by the distant 
 plains of Wiltshire; and behind, the more con- 
 fined, but more delicious, scenery of his own 
 park. The road to the house follows the gentle 
 descent of a hill, and pursues its darkling course 
 through high hedges, rendered still more um- 
 brageous by lofty trees; amongst which, the 
 wide-spreading beech and tapering fir make a 
 
L 92 ] 
 
 conspicuous figure, with their contrasted foliage, 
 A most superb antique Gothic cross, rising out 
 of a deep mass of shade, presents itself at the 
 bottom of this hollow way; a little to the left 
 the ancient tower of the village church is seen 
 struggling through the trees; and on the steep 
 declivity of a lofty hill above it, an elegant 
 temple of the richest Grecian architecture, re- 
 lieves the solemnity of the extensive wood that 
 enriches and surmounts it. In this bottom is 
 the little inn of the village of Stourton, which 
 unites happily with the objects around, and ap- 
 pears to be more an ornament of the grounds 
 than a place of public accommodation. A tur- 
 ret ted gateway forms the entrance into the park, 
 and a short winding road, that seems to be 
 in a state of improvement, leads to the house. 
 This mansion, which occupies the scite of the 
 old residence of the lords of Stourton, is built 
 of free-stone, and consists of a body and two 
 wings ; the former erected in the year 1720, by 
 Henry Hoare, esq; (who purchased the estate 
 in the beginning of the last century) from a 
 design of Colin Campbell, and the latter by the 
 present possessor, whose refined taste is exhi- 
 bited in other additions and* improvements. 
 To do justice to the valuable specimens of art 
 
 1 
 
L 93 J 
 
 within the house, it is necessary to condu£t you 
 regularly through its several apartments. 
 
 The entrance hall first claims our attention, a 
 cube of 30 feet, furnished with a billiard-table, 
 and ornamented with the following paintings: 
 
 The portrait of Henry Hoare, esq; on horse- 
 back, second possessor of Stourhead, by E. 
 Dahl and J. Wootton. — Ditto of Sir Richard 
 Colt Hoare, bart. the present owner, and his 
 son Henry Hoare, byS. Woodforde. 
 
 A fine allegorical pifture by Carlo Maratti, 
 representing the Marquis Pallavicini, intro- 
 duced by a genius to the painter, w r ho is sitting 
 with a canvas prepared to paint his portrait. 
 Above, an angel, with a crown of laurel over 
 the head of the Marquis; three graces, one 
 holding the painter's pallet, another pointing 
 up to the temple of fame, situated on the sum- 
 mit of a lofty rock. In the back ground are 
 two figures, one in armour, relating the heroic 
 aftions of the Marquis to another, who is re- 
 cording them with his name on a shield, in 
 letters of gold. 
 
 Augustus visiting Cleopatra, after the death 
 of Mark Antoily, by Raphael Mengs. The 
 figure and countenance of the humbled queen 
 are exquisitely graceful and tender. 4 The bril- 
 
[ 94 ] 
 
 Jiancy of her charms is faded $ but she is trying 
 the effect of more powerful agents with the 
 conqueror, her tears. 
 
 Two Landscapes, copied from the origi- 
 nals, in the Pamphili palace at Rome, of 
 Claude Lorrain, by Luccatelli. — Landscape of 
 Rock and Water, by Rosa di TivolL— Land- 
 scape with a Hermit praying, by Francesco 
 Mola, — Landscape, by Gasper Poussin. — Land- 
 scape, by Nicolo Poussin, in his first and dark 
 manner when he studied at Rome. 
 
 The drawing-room is a splendid apartment, 
 thirty feet by twenty, fitted up with damask 
 and gilded furniture, but unfortunate in the 
 distribution of the light, which is intercepted 
 by the additional wing. It contains, 
 
 The Rape of the Sabines, one of the finest 
 works of Nicholas Poussin, for which the sum 
 of 2Qoo guineas has been offered. The most 
 beautiful, interesting, and natural figures in 
 this celebrated painting, are two children, both 
 in tears, but from different causes, which are 
 admirably discriminated and expressed by the 
 magic pencil of this great master. One screams, 
 because he has been thrown down in the con- 
 fusion, and hurt; the other, because his mother 
 is torn away from him. 
 
C 95 ] 
 
 The Prophet Elijah raising the dead Child 
 to life, by Rembrandt. The awful charafiter 
 of the man of God is well preserved in his 
 countenance, and a most natural representation 
 of death in the figure and flesh of the child. 
 The celebrated Bishop Atterbury is said to 
 have presented this pi&ure to the. family. 
 
 An altar-piece, representing the Madona 
 and Child, St. John the Baptist, and St. Am- 
 brogio, by Andrea del Sarto. 
 
 The Daughter of Herodias, with St. John the 
 Baptist's head in a charger ; a copy from Carlo 
 Dolce, a most interesting pifiture. The damsel 
 is represented with auburn hair, dressed in 
 blue sattin, and slashed sleeves, and decorated 
 with emeralds and amethysts. Her counte- 
 nance expresses a mixture of regret and pity at 
 the cruel gift which her savage mother had 
 obliged her to exacr, as the reward of the fatal 
 exertion of her art. 
 
 A Holy Family^ by Fras. Bartolomeo di St. 
 Marco. — A Madona and Child, by Palma Vec- 
 chio. — The Judgment of Hefrules, by N. 
 Poussin, engraved by Strange. — A Madona and 
 Child, by Carlo # Cignani. — A Holy Family* old 
 copy from an original of Raphael in the col- 
 le£tion of the King of Naples, at Capo di Monte. 
 
[ 96 ] 
 
 — Diana and her Nymphs, a very pleasing pic- 
 ure, by Zuccharelli, in a frame carved by that 
 exquisite worker in wood, Gibbons. — St. John 
 the Baptist and Lamb, by Schidoni. — A Ma- 
 dona, by Carlo Dolce; with all his charac- 
 teristic softness and superlatively fine finishing. 
 — A Holy Family, by Schidoni. — The Genius 
 of History, by Sebastian Conca.--— Inside of St. 
 Peter's church, Rome, by Paolo Panini. — Land- 
 scape, by Domenichino. — Sea View of Rocks, 
 by Salvator Rosa ; a most brilliant and beautiful 
 picture. — Statue of Bacchus, by Rysbrack. 
 
 The cabinet-room takes its name from a most 
 elaborate and expensive piece of workmanship, 
 a cabinet consisting of several stories, con- 
 structed of ebony, agate, lapis lazuli, and or- 
 namented with solid gold, and a profusion of 
 every precious stone, except diamonds. It 
 belonged to Pope Sixtus V. and contains in its 
 front the portraits, in wax, of the Paretti fa- 
 mily, of which the Pontiff bore the name. The 
 head of Sixtus is in the centre. On it is a 
 very scarce aftd curious gold medal, struck 
 during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, upon the 
 defeat of the Spanish armada; from which de- 
 pends a beautiful George, richly enamelled. 
 
t 
 
 [ 97 } 
 
 In this room we also find, 
 
 A View of St. Mark's Place, and two smal- 
 ler views of Venice, by Canaletti. — Landscape, 
 with peasants going to market at break of 
 day, by Gainsborough. — St. John preaching in the 
 Wilderness, by Breughel. — The four Elements, 
 by Breughel and Van Balen, beautiful. — Por- 
 trait of the Emperor Charles V. by Rubens, 
 after Titian. — The Temptation of St. Anthony, 
 by Teniers; a most curious and whimsical sub- 
 jeer, full of monstrous and grotesque figures. 
 — Portrait of Lady Hoare, widow of the late Sir 
 Richard Hoare, bart. by Angelica Kauffman. 
 — -A Landscape, by Claude Lorraine, engraved 
 by Vivares. — Portrait in the chara&er of St. 
 Agnes, by Titian. — A Holy Family,- supposed 
 to be painted by Annibal Caracci, or by Guido, 
 in his dark manner.— St. Catharine, by Lovino, 
 scholar of Leonardo da Vinci. — Flight into 
 Egypt, by Carlo Maratti. — -Tobit and the 
 Angel, by Francisco Mola.- — Penelope and 
 Euriclea, by Angelica Kauffman. — Portrait of 
 an Old Woman, by Murillo; a very fine head. 
 —Marriage of S. Catharine, by Frederico Ba- 
 roccio, — Portrait of Henry Hoare, son to Sir 
 Richard Colte Hoare, bart. by Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds. — Democritus, the laughing philosopher. 
 
[ 93 ] 
 
 by Salvator Rosa. — A Holy Family, exquisitely 
 copied from the original by Raphael, which 
 was formerly in the colle&ion of the King of 
 France. 
 
 The bed-chamber, adjoining the cabinet room, 
 contains, 1 
 
 Noah sacrificing, by Imperiali.— Tts compa- 
 nion, by ditto. — Battle-Piece, by Borgognone. 
 — Bacchanalian Scene, a copy from Titian. — - 
 A Peasant's Head, by Titian.— Moon Light, 
 with gypsies sitting round a fire, by Rem- 
 brandt, engraved by Earlom; a very fine 
 pi6lure. — Cattle, &c. by Cuyp. — Four Family 
 Portraits in crayons, by Hoare, of Bath. — - 
 Four Historical Subje&s, by Lagrene. — -Study 
 of two Boys, master uncertain. — A View 
 of Florence, by Marlow. — Two small Land- 
 scapes, by Mompert. — Head of St. Francis, 
 a sketch on paper, by Guido Reni. — Design 
 for an altar-piece, a spirited sketch, by Espag- 
 noletto. — The Prodigal Son, by Sebastian Ricci. 
 
 St. John in the Wilderness, a sketch on pa- 
 per, by Titian; this appears to have been the 
 first design for the pifture he painted in the 
 church of Sancta Maria Maggiore at Venice, 
 where he has altered the figure of St. John, in 
 
 i 
 
[ 99 ] 
 
 making it standing instead of sitting; the situ- 
 ation of the lamb is exaftly the same. 
 
 The Pastor Bonus, a sketch on paper, by 
 Guercino. — Hope, &c. by Carlo Maratti.— * 
 Mary Magdalen washing our Saviour's feet, a 
 very fine sketch on paper, by Paolo Veronese •> 
 the original design for his celebrated pi£hire 
 in the Durazzo palace at Genoa. — A Holy 
 Family, painted on vellum, by Leonardo da 
 Vinci.- — An old Man's Head, a sketch on pa- 
 per, by Schidoni. — A Magdalen, after Guido. 
 — Drawing of Abelard and Eloisa, from An- 
 gelica Kauffman. 
 
 The dressing-room contains, the Marriage in 
 Canaan, copied from the original of Paolo Ve- 
 ronese, by Sebastian Ricci. — Our Saviour heal- 
 ing the Blind, by Sebastian Ricci. — Landscape 
 and Figures, by Luccatelli.— Landscape with 
 cattle. — The Creation, by Roland Savery. — 
 Rocks and Water, by Philip Hackert. — Land- 
 scape, by D. Teniers.— View of the Amphi- 
 theatre at Rome, by Gaspero d'Occhiali. — In- 
 side of a Church, by H. V. Stein ; some other 
 small landscapes and crayon pi£tures, by Hoare, 
 of Bath. 
 
 The outward hall contains, a Holy Family, 
 by Trevisani. — Ditto, after Andrea del Sarto. 
 
- — Inside View of the Pantheon in the gardens 
 at Stourhead, by Samuel Woodforde. — ^Grecian 
 Lady at Work, by Angelica Kauffman. — Two 
 Historical Subje&s, by Lagrene. — Antique Sta- 
 tue of Jupiter^ ditto of Juno.— -Some Basso 
 Relievos, by Rysbrack. 
 
 The stair-case contains, a Landscape, by 
 Wootton. — View of the Lake of Albano, by 
 Gregorio Fidanza. — View from Frescati, by 
 ditto. — Landscape, with hunters chasing the 
 porcupine; master unknown.— Sea View, its 
 companion, with rocks and figures; master 
 unknown. — Moon Light, by Vernet. — Sun 
 Rise, by Vernet.-— A Storm, with the story of 
 Jonah, copied from the celebrated picture of 
 Nicolo Poussin, in the colleftion of the King of 
 France, by Taverner — View of the Lake of 
 Bracciano, near Rome, by Moore. — View in 
 Flanders, with figures, by D. Teniers. — View 
 atTivoli, by Horizonte. — Landscape, by Mom- 
 pert. — Landscape, by C. W. Bampfylde, esq. 
 — View of the Convent of St, Cosimato, at 
 Vicovaro, beyond Tivoli in Italy, with the re- 
 mains of the Claudian Aqueduft, by Carlo 
 Labr uzzi . — View of the Bay and City of Naples, 
 with a Regatta, by Petro Antoniani. — Archi- 
 tecture and Ruins; master unknown. — Two 
 
[ 101 ] 
 
 Landscapes, by Wootton. — The Mole at 
 Naples, with Mount Vesuvius, by Marlow. — 
 A large Landscape, by C. W. Bampfylde, esq. 
 — A Storm, by C. W. Bampfylde, esq. — The 
 Lake of Nemi, by Wilson. — Castle of St. An- 
 gelo at Rome, by Salvator Rosa.- — Two Land- 
 scapes, by Luccatelli. — Storm at Sea, by Vernet. 
 — Three Landscapes, by Wootton.— Land- 
 scape, by C, W. Bampfylde, esq. 
 
 The saloon, or dining-room, a superb room, 
 forty-five feet by thirty, contains, 
 
 Herodias's Daughter, with St. John the Bap- 
 tist's head in a charger, after Guido Reni, by 
 Pompeo Battoni, five whole lengths; but the 
 countenance of the damsel has by no means so 
 sweet or interesting an expression, as that of 
 Carlo Dolce's, mentioned before. 
 
 The Death of Dido, after Guercino. — The 
 Rape of Helen, after Guido. — The Family of 
 King Charles L after Vandyke. — Venus attired 
 by the Graces, after Guido Reni; a most ex- 
 quisite pi£ture, in which the contrast between 
 the flesh of Cupid and Venus is very natural 
 and judicious. — The Judgment of Midas, by 
 Sebastian Bourdon. — Perseus and Andromeda, 
 after Guido; almost too delicious for any apart- 
 ment, unless a dining-room may be thought to 
 
[ 102 ] 
 
 offer some excuse for a little elegant sensuality. 
 — Wisdom, the companion of Hercules, after 
 Paolo Veronese. 
 
 The Adoration of the Magi, by Ludovico 
 Cardi, commonly called Cigoli. This pifture 
 was painted for the Albizzi family at Florence, 
 and was placed in the chapel belonging to that 
 family in the church of St. Pietro Maggiore, as 
 an altar-piece. It bears the painter's name and 
 date, and is esteemed one of his finest works. 
 
 The Meeting of Jacob and Esau, by Rosa 
 diTivoli. — The Triumph of Bacchus; the ori- 
 ginal of this subjeft was painted by Annibal 
 Caracci, for a ceiling in the Farnese palace at 
 Rome ; this is supposed to be a copy from it, 
 by Domenichino. — The Denial of St. Peter, by 
 Michael Angelo de Caravaggio. — Gamesters, 
 by ditto. — The Annunciation,- by Francesco 
 Albani. — Portrait of aPrelate, by Domenichino. 
 — David and Goliah, by Francesco Mola. — 
 Portrait of the Cenci, after Guido; one of the 
 most exquisite little pieces in the whole col- 
 lection.- — St. Pietro Martyre, an old copy from 
 Titian ; one of the best works of this master. 
 — Figures, Cattle, &c. by Leandro Bassano. — 
 A Charity, by Schidoni. The original of this 
 beautiful pi£lure is in the collediion of the King 
 
[ 103 ] 
 
 of Naples, at Capo di Monte, near Naples; 
 the head of the female figure is life itself. — 
 Sketch of an Apollo, by Paolo Veronese.— 
 Christ in the Garden, by Giamoco Bassano. — 
 A piece of G ilt Plate, representing the history 
 of Cyrus and Queen Tomyris; presented by 
 the city of London to Mr. Hoare, the grand- 
 father of the present baronet. 
 
 The library has a considerable colle£lion of 
 well-chosen books, and contains the following 
 paintings: — ■ 
 
 A Madona and Child, by Guerchino, in his 
 finest manner; but decaying from the effe£t of 
 varnish. — The Marriage of St. Catharine; an 
 enlarged copy from a beautiful little pi£ture of 
 Correggio, in the palace of the King of Naples, 
 at Capo di Monte, by Cavalucci. — A Charity, 
 copy from Luca Cambiasi, in the Giustiniani 
 palace at Rome, by Cavalucci. — Two Land- 
 scapes, companions, figures by Bout, landscape 
 by Baudouin. — Four Boys with Fruit, &c. a 
 copy in crayons, from a pi£ture by Rubens, in 
 the colle&ion of the Earl of Pembroke, at Wil- 
 ton-House, by Hoare, of Bath. — A Holy Family, 
 a copy from the celebrated pifture, by Raphael, 
 called La Madona della Sedia, in the Pitti 
 palace, at Florence, by Prince Hoare, esq. 
 
[ 104 ] 
 
 A splendid bed-chamber adjoins this room, 
 fitted up with painted taffeta furniture, and 
 decorated with drawings from Rubens, by 
 Hoare, of Bath, who, though no relation to 
 the possessor of Stourhead, has been deservedly 
 patronized by that family. 
 
 But the entertainment which the inside of 
 the mansion at Stourhead affords, is surpassed 
 by the gratification that arises from a view of 
 its pleasure-grounds ; which, to speak generally, 
 I could say, exceed in tasty disposition and 
 appropriate ornament any I have ever had the 
 opportunity of seeing. Nature, it must be 
 confessed, had already formed a spot every way 
 capable of being converted into a perfect ely- 
 sium, by the most agreeable variety of hill and 
 valley, terrace and dale, when Mr. Hoare took 
 * the canvas in hand, to add those masterly 
 touches which give life, and spirit, and finish to 
 the whole. He has, indeed, executed his 
 work with judgment and taste, and produced 
 a picture beautiful in its parts, and perfeft in 
 the toute ensemble. Almost as soon as we quit 
 the house, the path to the lake declines gently 
 through a velvet lawn, sprinkled with firs and 
 beech trees, and evergreens; the hill rising to 
 the right and sinking to the left. These quickly 
 
[ 105 ] 
 
 thicken, and form themselves into a wood, ad- 
 mitting only occasional glances at the beautiful 
 obje£is, in the dale to the left, and on the lake 
 below. The little church, with its open 
 worked battlements, and the magnificent tem- 
 ple of Apollo swelling from the dark side of 
 the hill above it, are caught through the first 
 opening; these are succeeded by a view of the 
 Pantheon, suddenly bursting upon the eye from 
 the opposite side of the lake, which stretches 
 at its feet in tranquil majesty, embosomed on 
 all sides in wooded elevations, rising amphi- 
 theartically around it. To the margin of this 
 piece of water (which, though covering only 
 twenty acres, is so judiciously lost in every part 
 amongst the woods, as to allow the imagina- 
 tion to stretch it to any extent) we are at 
 length conduced, where a neat ferry boat offers, 
 itself as the conveyance, to the opposite side of 
 the lake. We now reach classic ground, and 
 dropping all modern acquaintance, associate 
 for a time, only with the gods and heroes of 
 antiquity. Here we have the opportunity of 
 surveying and admiring the first piece of water. 
 This is supplied with copious never-failing 
 springs, (amongst which, the chief one of the 
 river Stour lends its powerful assistance) and 
 
[ 106 J 
 
 preserves uniformly the same height, the waste 
 water being carried off by an artificial cascade, 
 so judiciously disposed as to form, from another 
 point, a most beautiful feature in the scenery. 
 The picture from the place of landing, assumes 
 a new face 3 but equally interesting and magni- 
 ficent with those we have already noticed. Be- 
 fore us lies the lake, from whose verdant mar- 
 gin the wooded hills shoot up in all the majesty 
 of shade; to the right appears the temple of 
 Apollo, which, from the low point where we 
 view it, appears to hold a loftier situation than 
 before; and on the opposite side of the water, 
 the old stone bridge, and the Doric temple of 
 the goddess Flora, disclose themselves. We 
 now proceed to the grotto, (invisible till it be 
 reached) constructed in the side of a hill, 
 and consisting of a passage, and the small 
 apartment to which it leads. This is illumi- 
 ned by a circular hole at top, which, over- 
 grown with ivy and other creeping plants, 
 admits a sort of gloomy indistin£t light, well 
 calculated to aid the other circumstances of the 
 spot, in deeply impressing the imagination, and 
 assisting the belief, that the figures which adorn 
 the grotto are the living tutelary deities of the 
 sacred waters within. On two sides of the 
 
[ 107 3 
 
 apartment are arches, one by which it is en- 
 tered, and an opposite one by which it is quitted. 
 To the right appears a deep recess, or cavern, 
 within which is the figure of a sleeping nymph 
 in white marble, reclining on a pedestal; and 
 immediately under her a bath of crystalline 
 water, supplied by a copious perennial spring 
 issuing from the hill behind the statue. On a 
 marble slab, which forms the first step of the 
 bath, are the following lines by Mr. Pope, who 
 frequently wooed the muses in the shades of 
 Stourhead; they are the elegant translation of 
 some Latin verses by Cardinal Bembo: — 
 
 " Nymph of the Grot, these sacred springs I keep, 
 " And to the murmur of these waters sleep; 
 " Ah ! spare my slumbers, gently tread the cave, 
 " And drink in silence, or in silence lave." 
 
 <c Hujus Nympha loci, sacri custodia fontis, 
 " Dormio, dum bland^e sentio murmur aquae; 
 
 <c Parce meum, quisquis tangis cava marmora, somnum 
 ff Rumpere, sive bibas, sive lavere, tace." 
 
 Opposite to the arch by which we depart from 
 the grotto, is a smaller cavern, inhabited by an 
 ancient river god, Pater Stour, I presume, sit- 
 ting upon a large inclined urn, from the mouth 
 of which pours a flood of water, said to be the 
 chief spring of the river Stour; which, rising 
 
I 108 ] 
 
 here, takes a circuitous course through Dorset- 
 shire, marries the Avon near Christ-Church in 
 Hampshire, and loses itself and its companion 
 in the ocean, about two miles below that town. 
 Over the arch in front of this recess hangs a 
 wooden tablet, with some lines allusive to this 
 aquatic deity; — 
 
 (< Haec domuSj hse sedes^ haec sunt penetralia magnl 
 " Amnis; in hoc resedens faftis de cautibus antro 
 # Undis jura dabat, Nymphisque colentibus undas." 
 
 From this magic spot the path conducts us to 
 a magnificent edifice, called the Pantheon, built 
 after the model of that noble antique temple at 
 Rome. Here, as in all the other tenements of 
 Stourhead, magnificence has afted under the 
 dire&ion of perfeft taste • and the large sum 
 of twelve thousand pounds has been expended 
 in a manner that at once interests the imagina- 
 tion, and pleases the judgment. This struc- 
 ture stands on that part of the bank where the 
 lake spreads itself into its greatest breadth, and 
 commands all the obje£ts before enumerated, 
 with the addition of the beautiful Gothic cross ; 
 a view, in my opinion, superior to that from 
 the temple of Apollo, though not generally 
 esteemed so; since the latter is a bird's-eye 
 
[ 109 J 
 
 one, and every thing is seen below it; whereas 
 the Pantheon is more on a level with most of 
 the objefts which compose the picture, and has 
 the advantage of looking up to the others. This 
 building consists of a portico, or vestibulum, 
 and an adytum; the first is formed by four 
 elegant columns of the Corinthian order, the 
 second contains two antique busts, that on the 
 right Alexander, and that on the left Pompey. 
 An iron gate separates this member of the 
 structure from the adytum, which, seen through 
 its gateways, exhibits a most impressive sight. 
 A circular opening in the dome admits the 
 ^ light, which receives a rich golden tinge from 
 some yellow glass introduced into the aperture. 
 The walls are stained of a deep purple colour, 
 finely contrasting and relieving the brilliant 
 white marble statues ranged round the apart^ 
 ment, and standing on superb pedestals of 
 different foreign marbles; the whole forming 
 such an august exhibition, as subjects the un- 
 derstanding to the controul of fancy; and the 
 mind, taken by surprise, assents for a moment 
 to the belief of the truth of classical mythology. 
 Whilst contemplating this scene, indeed, one 
 cannot help reverting back to the ritual of the 
 ancients ; and allowing that their worship must 
 
[ no ] 
 
 have been indescribably impressive. Surrounded 
 by exquisite specimens of the arts, in their images 
 and altars; accompanied by processions, splen- 
 did, pompous, and numerous ; listening to the 
 strains of music, and the more bewitching 
 sounds of moral poetry; the heathen worshiper of 
 old must have been wrought up to a pitch of 
 enthusiasm, of which we can scarcely form an 
 idea at present. Hence arose that pertinacious 
 attachment to Paganism, which resisted so long 
 the progress of Christianity amongst the na- 
 tions that had adopted the classical mythology. 
 Accustomed to indulge their minds in the con- 
 templation of statues and altars, splendid sa- 
 crifices, rich pontificals, and elegant choral 
 dances, they revolted with indignation from a re- 
 ligion merely spiritual, w 7 hich was addressed only 
 to the heart and understanding; and professed 
 neither to feed the fancy, nor administer to the 
 passions. Truth at length prevailed, as it ever 
 must; but so deeply rooted were the prejudices 
 in favour of the heathen ritual, that its admirers 
 could not refrain from grafting some of its 
 splendours on the simple fabric of Christianity ; 
 evidences of which remain to this day in the 
 worship of the Romish church. 
 
[ Ill ] 
 
 A noble statue of Hercules, by Rysbrack, 
 fronts the iron-gate ; it is his chef cTceuvre, and 
 for ease, majesty, and anatomical correctness, 
 can hardly be surpassed; indeed he seems to 
 have caught in this specimen of this art, the line 
 fancy and ideas of the ancient sculptors whom 
 he studied. For the different members of this 
 effort of sculpture, Rysbrack is said to have se- 
 lefted five athletic men from the school of 
 Broughton, who furnished models for all the sub- 
 ordinate parts, but that the chest and shoulders 
 were copied from the brawny frame of the hero 
 himself,— -The next statue on the right, is an An- 
 tique Livia Augusta, purchased for two thou- 
 sand guineas, of which the drapery is in the most 
 - exquisite style of sculpture; a modern artist 
 has added the arms, and placed in one hand 
 ears of wheat, and in the other a patera. — The 
 neighbour of the God on the other side, is 
 Flora, a modern figure, by Rysbrack, but ex- 
 tremely beautiful. 
 
 The path leaving the Pantheon enters a 
 grotto, through which it passes and ascends 
 the hill behind the temple, conducing us 
 in its way over the turnpike-road, which 
 is very artfully carried under it, but so ob- 
 scured by wood as not to be visible. Another 
 
[ 112 ] 
 
 variety now occurs, ah Hermitage, or wood- 
 house, formed of old pollard trees, through 
 which we are led to an eminence, when the 
 view -becomes more extensive, and the imme- 
 diate obje&s being lost, the valley opens to the 
 right and left. Leaving this, a few paces more 
 bring us to the Temple of Apollo, another ad- 
 mirable imitation of classical architecture ; be- 
 ing a copy from the Temple of the Sun at 
 Balbec. This is a circular building of the Corin- 
 thian order, surrounded by a peristyle, the en- 
 tablature of which assumes a curious though 
 elegant escallop or semi-circular form, sup- 
 ported by twelve pillars. As many niches 
 adorn the face of the outside of the temple, each 
 filled with its deity, cast in lead from antique 
 models. A large cast statue of the Belvedere 
 Apollo occupies the interior, which is lighted 
 from above by a circular hole. The roof of 
 the temple spreads into a dome, and has a dou- 
 ble ceiling; in the lower is the aperture, and in 
 the coving of the other, a splendid gilt repre- 
 sentation of the Solar Rays, which, receiving 
 the real light of this orb by an artful construc- 
 tion, throws into the temple below a most 
 splendid refie&ion when the sun is in its 
 strength. From the Temple of Apollo we fol- 
 
[ US ] 
 
 low a descending path, which penetrates a sub- 
 terraneous passage, where the public road again 
 crosses the walk at right angles, without be- 
 ing discovered ; the latter abasing itself in its 
 turn* and taking a gloomy course under the 
 turnpike-road. Emerging again into day, we 
 are soon led to the temple of Flora, of the Doric 
 order, simple and chaste, as its tutelary deity. 
 From the portico we take in the wide-spread 
 lake and all its adjunfts, seen here under new cir- 
 cumstances and different combinations; over 
 the gate of the temple is this prohibition of 
 entrance to the profane, Procul, O firocul, este 
 profani; and within it are, a vase of compo- 
 sition from an antique model, two classical 
 altars, and as many sella and busts. The last 
 objeft which claims our attention in the gardens 
 is the Gothic cross before mentioned, a most 
 sumptuous piece of archite&ure, purchased of 
 the Corporation of Bristol by Mr. Henry Hoare, 
 and transported by him to Stourhead. It con- 
 sists of two ranges of arched niches, surmounted 
 by figures of angels, with shields and pinnacles, 
 and terminating in one above, more elegant 
 than the others. Nothing can be richer 
 in this style of archite&ure than the stru6ture 
 
 i 
 
[ ] 
 
 before us, and originally, when it was without 
 the middle supporting stone work, which it 
 was found necessary to add to it, nothing could 
 be more light and airy. History tells us, that 
 this cross was first ere&ed in the High-street 
 of Bristol, near the Tolsey, in 1373, and adorned 
 in succeeding times with the effigies of four 
 kings, who had been benefa£tors to the city; 
 John, Henry III. Edward III. and Edward IV. 
 In the year 1633 it was taken down, enlarged, 
 and raised higher, and four more statues added, 
 the figures of other benefaftors to Bristol; 
 Henry VI. Elizabeth, James I. and Charles I. ; 
 but the Corporation of Bristol, with the ingra- 
 titude of Charles in the c School for Scandal/ 
 f* knocked down' this illustrious family of kings 
 and queens, the patrons of their city, to Mr. 
 Hoare, for an old song, who converted it into 
 one of the splendid ornaments of Stourhead 
 gardens. It appears to be about thirty-five 
 feet in height. A little wicket opens from the 
 grounds into the wooded lane before-mentioned, 
 where the church and public-house stand, 
 which being separated only by a low railing 
 from the gardens,, give an agreeable wildness 
 to this enchanting spot, and banish, in a great 
 degree, the appearance of art. 
 
[ 115 ] 
 
 In the above description, long and tedi- 
 ous as it may be, I have confined myself to 
 a very small part of the grounds of Stourhead; 
 those in the immediate vicinity of the house. 
 Their grandest feature is the natural terrace, 
 which runs along the dorsum of a high hill 
 for three or four miles, over a carpet of velvet 
 turf, terminating abruptly, and ornamented at 
 this point with a lofty three-faced stru&ure, 
 the angles rounded off, called Alfred's Tower. 
 From this edifice, a view presents itself to the 
 eye of such extent and variety, that imagina- 
 tion, much less description, can scarcely reach ; 
 the straining vision stretches over an- expanse 
 of ninety or a hundred miles in diameter, in- 
 cluding every variety of scenery-— hills and 
 dales; rivers, villages, and towers; the rich 
 flats of Somersetshire ; the bare downs of Wilt- 
 shire ; and the dark mountains of Wales, A 
 tradition of this hill having been the situation 
 of Alfred's camp, and the plain below the scene 
 of his vi£lory over the Danes, has given his 
 august name to the tower. 
 
 The little church of Stourton, which is an 
 uniform building, and a neat example of the 
 Gothic of the fourteenth century, contains the 
 monument of William the second Lord of 
 
[ "6 ] 
 
 Stourton, (who died 1522) and Thomesine his 
 wife; there is also some painted glass in the 
 windows, said to be allusive to the history of a 
 baron of that ancient family. In pacing the 
 pavement of this little hallowed building, I 
 could not but call to mind its late amiable rec- 
 tor, Dr. Warner, " respe&ed and respeftable," 
 as he is deservedly called by the celebrated 
 author of the Ewea Ut^osvtu. I found the pa- 
 rishioners still mindful of his impressive pulpit 
 eloquence, his kindness of heart, and courtesy 
 of manners. Some circumstances rather sin- 
 gular attended his death, which happened in 
 consequence of a cold caught in performing 
 his promise of marrying Mr. Benjamin Flower, 
 the editor of the. " Cambridge Intelligencer/' 
 The Doftor had been the original agitator of 
 the question respe&ing the commencement of 
 the new century, and the strenuous supporter 
 of the opinion, that it began with the year 
 1 800 3 for which his friends, who maintained 
 the contrary sentiment, used jocularly to say, 
 he ought to lay perdu for one year. They little 
 imagined, that their raillery was to be converted 
 into a fatal prediftion ; the new year arrived, and 
 on the 22d of the first month of it, after a short 
 illness, the Do6tor expired, leaving behind him 
 
[ 117 ] 
 
 a long list of lamenting friends; many who 
 esteemed the extraordinary talents of his head, 
 but more who loved the amiable disposition of 
 his heart. He had been chaplain to the English 
 ambassador in Paris, at the breaking out of the 
 French Revolution, and remained in that king- 
 dom after our minister's departure j where he 
 imbibed an attachment to the cause of French 
 liberty, arising from a recolle&ion of the enor- 
 mities of the old government, rather than an 
 admiration of some of the measures which fol- 
 lowed its downfall. He has placed his name 
 high on the roll of English literati, by his trans- 
 lation of " Friar Gerund/' and his " Me](>ov 
 A(>iqov" and manifested his regard for what 
 is good and great in human charafter, by being 
 the original proposer of a monument to the 
 
 philanthropic Howard. 1 
 
 1 
 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 R. W. 
 
LETTER II. 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 dear SIR; Batb, Sept.5tb, 1800. 
 
 T Am now to introduce you to one of the most 
 splendid mansions in the kingdom, Fonthill, 
 the seat of Mr. Beckford; where expence has 
 reached its utmost limits in furniture and orna- 
 ments 3 where every room is a gold mine, and 
 every apartment a pi&ure-gallery. It stands 
 
[ 120 ] 
 
 at the distance of one mile and a half from 
 Hindon, to the right of the turnpike running 
 from that town to Salisbury. The house is 
 approached by a road, which, passing under a 
 noble stone arch, proceeds through the park in a 
 strait line to it; a fine sheet of water, nearly a 
 mile in length, lying to the left, and a lofty 
 wooded hill, rising behind and to the right of 
 it. A superb portico, of the Corinthian order, 
 ascended by a magnificent flight of steps, adorns 
 the body of the mansion, to which are attached 
 two wings, connefted with it by semi-circular 
 Doric colonnades. Every thing bespeaks the 
 presence of unbounded wealth and expensive 
 ideas. It occupies the scite of an house built 
 by Inigo Jones, which the late Mr. Beckford 
 took down, in order to build a more modern 
 one on the spot. Accident, however, reduced 
 this to ashes, and he was obliged to go once 
 more to work ; but, like the Phoenix, Fonthill 
 rose with tenfold splendour from its ruins, and, 
 in order to prevent a similar casualty, the new 
 edifice was constructed on a plan, which, sepa- 
 rating the stories from each other by arches, 
 secured it from future devastation by fire. The 
 large folding doors open into the Egyptian hall, 
 a square apartment of great height, with a 
 
 V 
 
[ 121 ] 
 
 coved ceiling painted in compartments, by 
 Cassali, a modern artist. This prepares one 
 for the richness of the other rooms, by its mag- 
 nificent ornaments; a stupendous organ on the 
 right, a beautiful statue of Venus, and another 
 of Apollo, in white marfotej with variegated 
 pedestals of the same material, in front, and 
 an antique bust of porphyry and black marble 
 on the side, of the organ. 
 
 The colle£tion of pictures begins in the ad- 
 joining apartment to the right, called the cabinet- 
 room, which contains, 
 
 Two Views in Derbyshire, and a Storm, by 
 Loutherbourg ; the latter is the finest of the 
 three. — The Inside of a Church, by John Van 
 Nikkelen, painted in 1688. — Duke de Bourbon, 
 by Vandyke. — Head of a Madona, by Guido. — 
 Small Landscape, by Polenberg. — Landscape, 
 by Berghem. — Washer-woman, by Teniers. — • 
 Holy Family, by Goltzius. — And several others 
 of the Flemish school. 
 
 From hence we pass into the ball-room, which, 
 like all the other apartments, is hung w T ith rich 
 crimson damask, and furnished with chairs and 
 sophas, covered throughout with one sheet of 
 burnished gold. The ceiling here, also, is 
 painted by Cassali, with emblematical repre- 
 
[ 122 ] 
 
 sentations of the arts and sciences; but unfor- 
 tunately, the ribs or divisions of the compart- 
 ments are so wide and heavy, that they subtract 
 from the apparent height of the room, and give 
 it the appearance of disproportion. It contains, 
 
 A Holy Family, by Titian; a fine example 
 of that exquisite method of colouring for which 
 this master was famous.— A finely-sculptured 
 white marble statue of the patriot Beckford, 
 inscribed " The Right Honourable William 
 Beckford, lord-mayor of London 17635" by 
 J. F. Moore. — An admirable portrait of the 
 painter John Bellini, by himself. 
 
 Two Boys kissing each other, by Leonardo 
 da Vinci ; the chara£ter of this artist was, that 
 he expanded a tedious time upon his works, 
 but sent them from his hands exquisitely fi- 
 nished. The latter observation applies power- 
 fully to the painting before us. 
 
 The Wise-Men's Offering, a superb large pic- 
 ture, by Titian. — The Inside of a Church, by 
 Peters; the figures by Teniers. — An Old Wo- 
 man's Head, by Dominichino; an artist remark- 
 able for expressing in his faces the passions of 
 the soul.— -St. Jerome and Angel, by Guercino. 
 — Charity and Pleasure, two small allegorical 
 figures,by Raphael. — Landscape, by G. Poussin, 
 
[ 123 ] 
 
 —-Hugo Grotius, small head, by Cornelius 
 Jansen. — The fall of Tivoli, and its companions, 
 two fine landscapes, by G. Poussin. — Archi- 
 medes, with a compass in his right hand, pro- 
 bably when he was surprised at his studies, and 
 destroyed by the Roman soldiers ; a masterly 
 painting, by Rembrandt. — The taking down 
 of Christ from the Cross, by Titian. — Salutation 
 of Mary and Elizabeth, by Frazier. — Law and 
 Physic, two small figures, with professional 
 emblems ; incomparably finished, by Ostade. 
 
 A Nativity, small, but excellent, by Ludovico 
 Carracci. The chief beauty of this pi6lure is the 
 management of the light, which emanates from 
 the new-born infant, and illuminates the enrap- 
 tured beholders in a manner surprisingly artful. 
 
 Socrates taking the poison, by Salvator 
 Rosa ; a clair obscnr> esteemed one of the most 
 valuable in the colleftion. There is a harsh- 
 ness, however, in it which, in my opinion, with 
 deference be it spoken, renders it far from a 
 pleasing pifture. 
 
 The anti-room to the bed-chamber exhibits, 
 The Siege of Rhodes, by Wyke. — Conway 
 Castle, by Loutherbourg. — Welsh Landscape, 
 by ditto. — View ijiOtaheite, a most picturesque 
 scene, by Webber, 
 
[ 124 ] 
 
 The saloon affords us the gems of the whole 
 co!le£iion — the two famous Claudes, purchased 
 by Mr. H. Tresham for Mr. Beckford, at the 
 sum of seven thousand guineas; but their situ- 
 ation is so injudicious, and the light so impro- 
 perly thrown upon them, that they are not seen 
 to advantage from any point in which the ob- 
 server can place himself. They came from the 
 Altieri colleftion, and were offered by that 
 prince to Charles Heathcote Tatham, esq; but 
 the many obstacles to their being conveyed 
 from Rome, during the convulsions of the Papal 
 territory, induced him to decline the purchase. 
 Mr. Tresham accepted the second offer, and 
 after many adventures, difficulties, dangers, 
 and hair-breadth escapes, they were at length 
 smuggled to Naples, and from thence safely 
 conveyed to England. They are unquestion- 
 ably exquisite, and display, to a striking degree, 
 that delicacy of colouring, variety, and sweet- 
 ness of tints, warmth of sky, and appropriate 
 illumination, which have placed this young 
 pastry-cook (for to that trade he was originally 
 apprenticed) far beyond every other painter in 
 the line of landscape; but are still considered 
 by the cognoscenti as inferior to that other pair 
 of landscapes, by the same artist, which are 
 
L 1 
 
 contained in the colleftion of Lord Radnor, at 
 Longford-Castle. 
 
 The pifture on the left represents the land- 
 ing of JEneas in Italy; the gallies and river in 
 front, on one side mountains, on the other 
 buildings and trees. The pifture on the right 
 displays a broad valley, with a river, bridge, 
 distant mountains, and sea in front; the right 
 screen is formed by trees, and the left by a 
 palace and ruined temple ; of these the latter is 
 unquestionably the finer. The other paintings 
 in the apartment are some family portraits, 
 especially a full length of Alderman Beckford, 
 by Romney. 
 
 The music-room is not yet finished, but the 
 same splendour of decoration is intended to be 
 bestowed on it as the other apartments have had. 
 It is coved, and contains, the Fifth Plague of 
 Egypt, by Turner; the subjeQ:, spirit, and exe- 
 cution of which gained this young and promising 
 artist so much credit in the Exhibition of 1800. 
 
 Over the chimney in the morning drawing- 
 room, is a pleasing pifture by Romney, from a 
 scene in the Midsummer Night's Dream. The 
 most prominent figure is Lady Hamilton, in the 
 character of Queen Mab, with a happy ex- 
 pression of archness in her countenance. It 
 
[ 126 ] 
 
 contains, also, Maty washing the feet of Christ, 
 by N. Poussin. — The Woman taken in Adul- 
 tery, by ditto. — The Virgin, Child, and Angels, a 
 finely-finished painting; the joint effort of Van 
 Balen and Rodenaamer; the landscape by the 
 former, and figures by the latter.-— Landscape, 
 by C. Lorraine. — Two small Landscapes, with 
 ruins and figures, by Polenberg. — Small paint- 
 ing, rocks and trees, by S. Rosa. — John preach- 
 ing in the Wilderness, its companion, by ditto. 
 
 The only ornament of the dining-room, except 
 its painted ceiling, is a noble antique statue of 
 Bacchus, the arms and left foot modern. The 
 nebris y or leopard's skin, is flung across his shoul- 
 der, a panther stands at his side, and he sup- 
 ports himself on the trunk of a vine with grapes, 
 &x. and leaves at his root. 
 
 The library is a large room, filled with choice 
 and expensive books $ and decorated with ap- 
 propriate paintings on the ceiling. 
 
 Two superb pieces of Gobelin tapestry cover 
 as many sides of the small drawing-room, the 
 work of Neilson ; one representing Esther dress- 
 ing for her interview with Ahasuerus 5 the other 
 her acceptance by him as his queen. 
 
 The Turkish tent concludes the splendid suite 
 of apartments shewn to strangers 3 a room fitted 
 
[ 127 ] 
 
 up with much fanciful magnificence, hung with 
 yellow satin, &c. richly decorated with a pro- 
 fusion of gilding. 
 
 It may be proper tq inform you that this daz- 
 zling scene cannot be viewed before the hours 
 of twelve at noon, nor after four. 
 
 We wished much to have been admitted to 
 the stupendous building which Mr. Beckford 
 is eretling upon a high hill, at the distance 
 of a mile and a half from his house, but this 
 is, properly enough, prohibited from being sur- 
 veyed till it be compleated. The only informa- 
 tion we could obtain respecting it was general; 
 that it would be extensive and magnificent. 
 As Mr. Wyatt is the archite£l, we may venture 
 of ourselves to add, that it will also be elegant 
 and chaste. 
 
 Four miles from Fonthill we reach the parish 
 and hamlet of Tisbury, wherein stands War- 
 dour-Castle, the seat of the Earl of Arundel. 
 A neat little inn offers comfort and civility to 
 the traveller near the gate of the mansion, 
 which may be viewed every day after tw r elve 
 o'clock. The present *Lord Arundel, about 
 thirty years ago, removed the family seat from 
 its old scite under the walls of the castle to a 
 
[ 128 ] 
 
 spot about a mile from it, on higher ground in- 
 deed, but not of so favourable or beautiful a 
 situation; it is built of free-stone, the wings 
 proje&ing in a curved line from the body, and 
 making with it one heavy whole. An addition 
 to the right wing, of the chapel, since the first 
 design, interrupts the uniformity of the build- 
 ing; and a belt of trees 3 sweeping round a little 
 lawn, precludes all prospeft in front. To the 
 south a wider range is given to the eye, which 
 takes in the plains and fields of Wiltshire, and 
 rests upon the distant hills of Dorset. This 
 also is the handsomer front of the two, being 
 ornamented with pilasters and half pillars of 
 the Corinthian order. From the simplicity 
 and plainness of the entrance-hall, we do not 
 expeft the splendid piece of architefture to 
 which we are immediately afterwards intro- 
 duced, the rotunda stair-case; the most ele- 
 gant structure of the kind in England* and 
 worthy of the magnificent apartments to which 
 it leads. This is circular, and lighted from 
 the dome that forms its summit; two flights 
 of stairs take a semi-circular sweep to the 
 right and left, and conduft to a gallery, or 
 corridores, of which eight Corinthian pillars 
 support the top, and where six uniform recesses 
 
C 129 ] 
 
 contain within them the doors opening to the 
 different bed-chambers ; a grand organ occu- 
 pies one segment of the circular gallery, and a 
 figured iron railing, with gilded ornaments, sur- 
 rounds the whole. The first apartment to which 
 this gallery carries us is the saloon, not remark- 
 able for magnificence of furniture, but contain- 
 ing within it a rich mine of paintings. They 
 are as follows : — 
 
 Head of St. Francis, by Dominichino. — Head 
 of a Madona, by Carlo Dolce; finished with 
 that incomparable sweetness which obtained 
 to this artist the last addition to his name. — 
 Landscape, Morning, by DeBruzzi. — Evening, 
 its companion. — Head of a Hermit, by Salvator 
 Rosa. — Portrait of one of the Cliffords, of 
 Chudleigh, Devonshire, by Vandyke. 
 
 Jacob's Departure from Canaan for Egypt, 
 by N. Poussin. The chara&eristics of this artist 
 were judgment and force of expression; both of 
 which are sufficiently visible in the pifture be- 
 fore us. The figure of the horse is incompa- 
 rably fine and natural; its head and forehead 
 appear to be starting from the canvass. 
 
 Jacob's Meeting with Joseph, N. Poussin. — 
 Joseph in Prison, interpreting the dreams of the 
 
 K 
 
[ 130 ] 
 
 butler and chief baker, by Murillo. — A Holy Fa- 
 mily, uncertain whether an original by Raphael, 
 or a copy from him ; but the doubt itself pro- 
 claims that excellence which it displays. — An 
 Infant Jesus and St. John, by Titian.' — Boy play- 
 ing on Bagpipes, Ass and Dog, by Michael An- 
 gelo da Carravagio; a very fine pifture, in which 
 the fore-shortening of the ass is wonderful. — 
 Two small Landscapes, by Salvator Rosa. — A 
 Holy Family, by L. Giordano. — Two Architec- 
 tural Paintings, by Babiani, both fine > that on 
 the right hand remarkable for the artful intro- 
 duction and scientific management of subordi- 
 nate and different lights. 
 
 Hagar in the Wilderness, Ishmael asleep, 
 Angels comforting the mother, and pointing 
 to a fountain of water to allay the thirst of 
 herself and offspring; an interesting production 
 by Pompeio Battoni, a modern artist. The ex- 
 pression of unutterable anguish in the counte- 
 nance of the disconsolate mother is very natural, 
 and the turn of the arm, foot, and hand, is 
 equally striking. 
 
 Ruins at Rome, marked Heightenburgh, 
 1693.— Church at ditto, marked ditto. — Two 
 Landscapes, by Le Croix. — Two Landscapes, 
 by Rosadi Tivoli. 
 
r ] 
 
 Henrietta Maria, by Vandyke ; the beautiful 
 and amiable, but injudicious and bigotted, 
 queen of Charles I. ; and hence, one great co- 
 operating cause of her husband's misfortunes. 
 Her detestation of heretic ceremonies was such, 
 that when the king her husband was crowned, 
 she would not assist at the profane rites; but 
 only attended as a private spe£iator. 
 
 Two small Landscapes, by Wouverman. — 
 An Old Woman paring apples, by Teniers ; with 
 his usual coarse accompaniments, a hog, &c. 
 
 The drawing-room contains, 
 
 Portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Arundel, by Sir G. 
 JCneller. — A Pi£ture in black, miscalled the 
 accomplished hero, Lord Viscount Falkland. 
 It is at least unlike the undisputed portraits at 
 Devonshire-House, Longleat, and the Duke of 
 Queensberry's ; which last was from the Cla- 
 rendon colle&ion. — John Arundel, of the Lan- 
 herne family, translated from the see of Litch- 
 field and Coventry to that of Exeter in 1 50 1 ; he 
 died March 15th, 1503. — Lady Bedingfield. — 
 The two Daughters of Savage Earl of Rivers, 
 by Vandyke. — Mr. and Mrs. Arundel, two 
 portraits by Sir Peter Lely. 
 
 Villiers Duke of Buckingham. " The right high 
 " and right mighty prince George Villiers, 
 
[ 132 ] 
 
 " Duke, Marquis, and Earl of Buckingham ; 
 " Earl of Coventry, Viscount Villiers, Baron of 
 " Waddon; lord high-admiral of England, Ire- 
 u land, and the principality of Wales ; governor 
 94 of all the castles and sea-forts and of the 
 " royal-navy ; master of the horse to his Ma- 
 "jesty; lord-warden, chancellor, and admiral 
 " of the Cinque-ports and the members thereof; 
 " constable of the castle of Dover; justice in 
 " Eyre of all his Majesty's forests, parks, and 
 M chaces, on this side of the river Trent; con- 
 * c stable of the royal castle of Windsor; gentle- 
 " man of the King's bed-chamber; counsellor 
 " of estate of the kingdoms of England, Scot- 
 " land, and Ireland ; knight of the most noble 
 " Order of the Garter; lord president of the 
 " council of war ; chancellor of the university 
 " of Cambridge; and lord-general of his Ma- 
 H jesty's forces in the isle of Rhee." A list of 
 titles so long, and of places so numerous, was 
 sufficient to excite jealousy and dissatisfa&ion, 
 independently of personal demerits in him who 
 bore them. The nation was disgusted with 
 Buckingham's overbearing conduft; and an 
 instrument for the expression of popular indig- 
 nation appeared at length in Fellon, who mur- 
 dered the Duke at Portsmouth, Aug. 23, 16280 
 
[ 133 ] 
 
 Three Children of Charles I. whole length, 
 by Vandyke. — Head of a Woman, by Rubens. 
 
 Sir Thomas More, by Hans Holbein; an 
 admirable pitture, in which the features of one 
 of the greatest men that ever lived are faith- 
 fully preserved by the rigid pencil of this ac- 
 curate artist. The produftion before us ap- 
 pears to be equally entitled to the high enco- 
 mium which Lord Offord has bestowed upon 
 its companion at Kensington : — " Employed by 
 " More, (says this writer of taste and spirit) 
 " Holbein was employed as he ought to be. 
 " This was the happy monfent of his pencil; 
 ** from painting the author (Erasmus) he rose to 
 " the philosopher (More), and then sank to work 
 w for the king (Henry VIII.) I do not know a 
 " single countenance into which any master has 
 " poured greater energy of expression than in 
 fC the drawing of Sir Thos. More at Kensington ; 
 M it has a freedom, a boldness of thought, and 
 " an acuteness of penetration, that attest the 
 " sincerity of the resemblance. It is Sir Thos, 
 " More in the reign of his sense, not in the 
 ¥ sweetness of his pleasantry. Here he is the 
 " unblemished magistrate; not that amiable 
 * philosopher, whose humility neither power 
 " nor bigotry could elate, and whose mirth even 
 
[ 134 ] 
 
 " martyrdom could not spoil. Here he is rather 
 " that single cruel judge whom one knows not 
 " how to hate, and who, in the vigor of abilities, 
 " of knowledge, and good humour, persecuted 
 " others in defence of superstitions which he 
 cc himself had exposed; and who, capable of dis- 
 " daining life at the price of his sincerity, yet 
 " thought that God was to be served by promo- 
 " ting an imposture. Who triumphed over 
 c< Henry and death, and sank to be an accom- 
 " plice, at least the dupe, of the holy Maid of 
 " Kent!" The execution of this accomplished 
 statesman is one of the many instances of bru- 
 tish cruelty which condemn the name of Henry 
 VIIL to everlasting infamy. 
 
 Miss Panton> by Sir Peter Lely. — Bishop St. 
 Paul de Leon, a good pifture, by Danloo. 
 
 Hugo Grotius, half-length, by Rubens; a 
 large person, and rosy butcher-like face. This 
 great man is well known to the learned world 
 as a civilian, a poet, a critic, and a divine. In 
 his last capacity he has laid an eternal obliga- 
 tion on society by his incomparable work, " de 
 Vcritate Christiana Religionist a work, from the 
 perusal of which, no attentive, impartial, and 
 unprejudiced reader can rise without convic- 
 tion. What adds to the wonder of this com- 
 
[ 135 I 
 
 position is, the circumstance of its Having been 
 written under the miseries of imprisonment. 
 He was a native of Delft in Holland,, and there 
 called Huig de Grot, where his lineal de- 
 scendant lived (in Rotterdam) till within these 
 two years, but exhibited a striking proof of the 
 truth of the adage, heroum filii noxa, being as de- 
 ficient in intelleft as he was void of principle. In 
 the picture before us, the figure of a large trunk 
 is represented, allusive to his escape from the 
 Castle of Lowestein, where he had been con- 
 fined on account of his connexion with the il- 
 lustrious and unfortunate Barnevelt The wife, 
 anxious to liberate her husband, petitioned the 
 magistracy that she might send him some books 
 to amuse him during confinement ; which be- 
 ing permitted, she packed them in a box 
 sufficiently large to contain the prisoner, who, 
 squeezing himself within it, was carried from 
 the fortress during the time of her visiting him. 
 All suspicion was of course precluded by the 
 faithful partner of his heart remaining in the 
 prison till he had escaped beyond the reach of 
 his pursuers. He died August 8, 1645. 
 
 The Inside of a Church, with rites celebra- 
 ting in it, by De Neuf. The perspective of this 
 pi&ure is so fine, and the relief so great, that a 
 
C 136 ] 
 
 connoisseur who had, some months since, been 
 contemplating it for a long time with great at- 
 tention, at length moved a little to the right, 
 in order to look round one of the pillars which 
 appear in the front of the pi&ure. 
 
 Cardinal Reginald Pole, a very fine head, by 
 Hans Holbein. This learned, modest, and 
 courteous prelate, w 7 as a younger son of Sir 
 Richard Pole, by Margaret Countess of Salis- 
 bury, daughter of George Duke of Clarence, 
 brother to Edward IV. In Italy he numbered 
 Sandolet and Bembo amongst his intimate 
 friends; and upon the death of Paul III. was 
 elefted Pope ; but the ele&ion taking place at 
 midnight, he refused to attend the conclave till 
 the morning, observing, that his exaltation to 
 the pontifical chair should not be a work of 
 darkness. The Cardinals, disgusted at the 
 message, immediately proceeded to another 
 ele&ion, and chose the prelate De Monte. 
 They made but a bad exchange, however, for 
 their former choice; for the new Pope, before 
 he left the conclave, bestowed a Cardinal* s hat 
 on his monkey. Pole arrived as legate in England 
 in 1553, and shortly after obtained the see of 
 Canterbury ;' in the possession of which he died 
 November 17, 1558. 
 
[ 137 ] 
 
 Thomas Arundel, killed at the battle of the 
 Boyne, fighting for King James L 
 
 In a small room adjoining, not generally 
 shewn, we find, 
 
 A large Landscape, Evening, Nymphs dan- 
 cing ; an exquisite pi£ture, by De Bruzzi. — The 
 Virgin Mary fainting after the Crucifixion of 
 Christ, by Dominichino : a striking groupe, 
 awful and afFe&ing. 
 
 The blue bed-chamber next occurs, and presents 
 us with the Portrait of a Nun, of the Arundel 
 family, w>ith this inscription from the Psalms, 
 Quid mihi est in ccelo, et a te quid voiui super terram. 
 — A Dead Christ, by Hannibal Carracci; a pic- 
 ture of admirable execution, in which the fore- 
 shortening of Christ's body is the perfe&ion of 
 art. — A Crucifixion, by Rubens ; sublime. 
 
 The library has, two fine Views of the Erup- 
 tion of Mount Vesuvius. — Albert Duke of 
 Saxony. — Mr. John Arundel, by Vandyke. 
 
 From this apartment we are carried into the 
 western gallery of the chapel a strufture that 
 displays superlative taste and magnificence. 
 Crimson turniture, and gilded ornaments, pro- 
 duce an immediate striking coup f ftti; but when 
 the decorations are examined individually, the 
 splendour and expence become more percep- 
 
[ 138 ] 
 
 tible. Three immense piftures, by Rubens, 
 cover the southern wall of the chapel; and 
 one by this artist, and another by Guido, 
 of the same majestic size, are their oppo- 
 site companions. The altar-piece is a Dead 
 Christ, by Cades. A large gallery is con- 
 structed at the western end, superbly fitted up 
 for Lord Arundel and his party; a second, 
 at the east end of the south side, for the choir; 
 and a third, at the east end of the north side, 
 for the accommodation of visiters. Benches oc- 
 cupy the middle of the chapel, for the reception 
 of the domestics, and such of the villagers as 
 profess the Romish faith; for there is a Catholic 
 seminary here, the pupils of which pun£tually 
 attend at morning and evening prayers. The 
 eastern end of the chapel recedes into a semi- 
 circular form, through the windows of which 
 light is admitted ; but as these are placed high, 
 and consist of coloured glass, the effect is ex- 
 tremely striking and solemn. The central win- 
 dow exhibits Angels, and the awful Tetra- 
 grammaton, from which is an emanation of 
 glory. Brought forward ffom the eastern end, 
 sufficiently to allow the processions around it, 
 stands the Altar, a most costly piece of work- 
 manship, fixed on a splendid sarcophagus of 
 
C 139 1 
 
 ebony - r and constru&ed of porphyry, agate, 
 and amber. A magnificent crucifix of silver 
 surmounts the altar; and two censers of solid 
 gold, embossed with silver, suspended over it, 
 pour through the chapel odiferous clouds of 
 ever-burning frankincense. Every thing, a- 
 round, indeed, evinces, that the Romish ritual 
 is observed here with the utmost rigour and 
 magnificence ; and, doubtless, the celebration 
 of its higher offices, amid such seducing ob- 
 je£ts, must a£t with infinite force upon the 
 imagination. The effeft produced by the ex- 
 ternals of worship every man experiences who 
 attends our Cathedral service, which has not 
 been stripped of so much of its lace as the com- 
 mon parochial ritual ; how much, then, must 
 this be increased, when aided by exquisite ex- 
 amples of sculpture and painting; amid the 
 strains of angelical music, the glare of unnum- 
 bered lights, and the Hallelujahs of numerous 
 multitudes ! The tamest fancy must be roused 
 by such a scene, and the coldest heart warmed 
 into transport. It was on an occasion like 
 this, you may reccjlefl:, when Lord Boling- 
 broke was attending high mass at Versailles, 
 that, on seeing the Archbishop of Paris elevate 
 the Host, and hearing the sudden crash of i:> 
 
[ 140 ] 
 
 struments which accompanied the solemnity, 
 impressed with the awfulness of the prelate's 
 figure whilst engaged in the a£t, he instantly 
 exclaimed to his companion, Bishop Atterbury, 
 Ci By heaven, my Lord, if I were the King of 
 France,! would perform that ceremony myself/' 
 An author, whose knowledge of human nature 
 was profound, saw the powerful effects which 
 decorated ritual would naturally produce on 
 the general mind, and has thrown some little 
 blame on the early reformers for despising the 
 aid which it affords to the effusions of piety, 
 and the exercise of devotion. " Even the Eng- 
 " lish Church," says he, <c though it had retained 
 " a share of Popish ceremonies, may justly be 
 " thought too naked and unadorned, and still to 
 " approach too near the abstraft and spiritual 
 " religion of the Puritans. Laud, and his associ- 
 " ates, by reviving a few primitive institutions of 
 " this nature, cofre6fed the error of the first re- 
 " formers, and presented to the affrighted and 
 " astonished mind some sensible exterior obser- 
 " vances, which might occupy it during its reli- 
 " gious exercises, and abate the violence of its 
 " disappointed efforts. The thought no longer 
 " bent on that divine and mysterious essence, so 
 " superior to the narrow capacities of-mankind, 
 
[ 141 ] 
 
 " was able, by means of Laud's new mode of 
 " devotion, to relax itself in the contemplation 
 " of pi£iures,postures, vestments, and buildings; 
 ff and all the fine arts which minister to religion, 
 " thereby received additional encouragement." 
 It is but proper to add, that the attendance of 
 strangers at the service in Wardour chapel is 
 considered as a compliment, and every conve- 
 nience provided for their accommodation. 
 
 From the chapel we are introduced to the 
 state bed-chamber, so called from an elegant bed, 
 fitted up for Charles I. in his halcyon days, 
 when he paid a visit to Lord Arundel at the 
 castle; the furniture remaining quite unim- 
 paired by time. It contains, 
 
 A Virgin and Child, by Antonius de Selarius. 
 Landscape, by Claude Loraine.— Landscape, 
 by Berghem. — Portrait of Cardinal Pole. — St. 
 Peter in Prison.— Christ crucified between the 
 two malefaftors; three exquisite figures wrought 
 in silver. 
 
 The cabinet of Lady Arundel next occurs, so 
 filled with minute curiosities, as entirely to pre- 
 clude regular enumeration ; all the ornaments 
 are of the most rich and rare nature, particu- 
 larly a chimney-piece, composed of la/iis lazuli, 
 and other costly marbles. Amongst the pic^ 
 
[ 142 ] 
 
 tures are a beautiful Holy Family, by Cbrreggio ; 
 and a Virgin and Child, small and precious, by 
 Guido. — Miniature of Mr.Markham, (ancestor 
 of Lady Arundel) killed at Gainsborough dur- 
 ing the civil wars. 
 
 Two Heads, by that ingenious artist Hussey $ 
 one of himself, the other of William Gilling- 
 ham> of Tisbury, who was brought to visit at 
 the castle from the place of his residence when 
 upwards of one hundred years old. Hussey 
 drew his portrait, and Lord Arundel generously 
 rewarded the old man's trouble by an annuity 
 which he enjoyed nearly three years. Hussey 
 was not only remarkable for the exquisite skill 
 of his pencil, but for the singular principles on 
 which he pradiised his art. Mr. Maton, ele- 
 gant and correct, has given us the following ac- 
 count of these anomolous professional opinions: 
 
 " The notions entertained by this very inge- 
 * nious artist, and the principles which he prac- 
 " tised in the exercise of his profession, were 
 cc very peculiar. He contended, that the prin- 
 " ciples of harmony obtained generally, through- 
 cc out nature, and even in the proportions of the 
 " human form, these proportions being as de- 
 f( lightful to the eye, in works of art, as they 
 * c are, in sounds, to the ear; and that the for- 
 
[ 143 ] 
 
 " mer sense was as capable of judging of these 
 " harmonious proportions as the latter. Ideas 
 " similar to these, indeed, were entertained by 
 " many of the early philosophers, particularly 
 " by Pythagoras; but it does not appear that 
 " they were ever applied, or extended, in so 
 " extraordinary a manner as by our artist. He 
 " always drew the human head by the musical 
 " scale, alleging, that every human face was 
 " in harmony with itself; that however accu- 
 " rate the delineation of it from nature might 
 " be, in consequence of an artist having a very 
 " nice eye ai:a ^and, yet some little touches, 
 ft necessary to complete the likeness, would 
 " be wanting, after all possible care ; and that 
 f : the only true criterion by which it could be 
 " known that any two things in drawing were 
 " exactly alike, was to procure a third, as a 
 " kind of mean proportional, by a comparison 
 ■ff with which the exaft similarity of the other 
 ff two might be proved. Accordingly, after 
 " he had sketched a drawing of a face from 
 ? nature, he applied thereto his musical scale, 
 S€ and observed in what correspondent points 
 " (taking the whole face, or profile, for the 
 " ofiave, or fundamental) the great lines of the 
 " features fell. Adhering to his principle, that 
 
I tu ] 
 
 " every face was in harmony with itself, (though 
 " sometimes it might be a concordia discors) after 
 " the was found, he of course disco- 
 
 " vered the correspondent ratios, or propor- 
 €C tions; so that, if on applying the scale thus 
 ff reftified, as it were, to the drawing, he found 
 " any of the features or principal points of the 
 " face out of their proper places, by making 
 ?.! them correspond to the scale, he always per- 
 " ceived that such correftions produced a bet- 
 (i ter and more chara&eristic likeness. 
 
 " A friend having once remarked to Mr. H. 
 u that though this principle might hold true 
 " respefting the whole of the human frame, 
 " when drawn quite formal and upright, and 
 " to the human face, (especially in profile) yet 
 " he doubted, whether it would apply in all the 
 *' various attitudes into which the human body 
 " might be thrown; — he replied, you will find 
 66 that my principles hold good universally, if 
 " you consider these different attitudes as dif- 
 " ferent bars in music. Having produced a 
 " Madona and Child of Carracci, he exempli- 
 #c fied his meaning. The child was standing on 
 " one leg, the other bent, and leaning on the 
 " Madona's breast. ' This/ says he, c is a 
 ' beautiful boy, and elegantly drawn, but now 
 
[ 145 ] 
 
 • I will trace him exa&ly, apply the scale, and 
 
 * corre6t every part thereby, and then we shall 
 c see if he come not out more beautiful still, 
 ' and more elegant 9 He did so, and the in- 
 f? tended effe£t followed. Thus much must 
 " certainly be allowed by all who have seen 
 " Mr. Hussey's pencil drawings from life, that 
 " he has preserved the best characteristic like* 
 " nesses of any artist whatever ; and, with re- 
 " spe£t to those of mere fancy, no man ever 
 " exceeded him in* accuracy and elegance, 
 " simplicity and beauty." 
 
 An incomparable piece of workmanship in 
 ivory, by Michael Angelo, the figure of Christ 
 on the Cross, " which Jews might kiss, and in- 
 <c fidels adore," impresses the mind with wonder 
 at the versatility of talent displayed by this 
 great, though early, artist ; who was at once a 
 statuary, a sculptor, a poet, and a painter j and 
 excellent in all. 
 
 The adjoining bed-chamber claims attention 
 from a portrait by Vandyke, of Thomas first 
 Lord Arundel, called the valiant; who blended 
 every amiable quality of private life with all 
 the accomplishments of the hero. When a 
 young man, he entered into the Imperial ser- 
 vice as a volunteer, and joined the army in 
 
L ] 
 
 Hungary 5 where in a desperate battle with the 
 Turks at Gran, he took the Mahomedan stand- 
 ard with his own hands. For this gallant at- 
 chievement Rodolphus II. Emperor of Ger- 
 many, created him Count of the sacred Roman 
 empire, by patent dated Dec. 14, 1595. This 
 document states, that the honour was conferred 
 upon him because " he had behaved himself 
 " manfully in the field, as also, in assaulting 
 <c divers cities and castles, shewed great proofs 
 " of his valour; and that, in forcing the water 
 " tower at Gran in Hungary, he took from the 
 " Turks, with his own hands, their banners; 
 " so that every of his children, and their de- 
 " scendants for ever of both sexes, should en- 
 " joy that title, have place and vote in all 
 <c Imperial Diets, purchase lands in the domi- 
 ff nions of the empire, list any voluntary soldiers, 
 " and not to be put to any trial but in the Im- 
 perial Chamber." On his return home the 
 next year, the proud peers of Elizabeth's 
 time refused to allow that precedence which 
 his new dignity gave him, alleging, that 
 the honours conferred by a foreign potentate 
 ought to have no effe£t without the limits of 
 their own dominions. The point in question 
 was referred to Queen Elizabeth, who gave it 
 
[ 147 ] 
 
 as her opinion, " that there was a close tie of 
 " affection between the prince and subject; 
 " and that as chaste wives should have no 
 " glances but for their own spouses, so should 
 " faithful subjefts keep their eyes at home, and 
 cc not gaze upon foreign crowns ; that she, for 
 " her part, did not care that her sheep should 
 " wear a stranger's mark, nor dance after the 
 ? whistle of every foreigner;" and immediately 
 wrote to the Emperor, acquainting him, that 
 she forbade her subje£ts giving the count place 
 and precedence in England. James I. in the 
 third year of his reign, created Thomas a baron 
 of the realm of England* by the title of Baron 
 Arundel* of Wardour ; which his descendants 
 now enjoy. He died at Wardour-Castle the 
 7th of November, 1639. 
 
 Portrait of Mengs, by himself. — Landscape, 
 by Salvator Rosa. — Portrait of Sir Thomas 
 More, by Holbein. 
 
 Lord Arundel's room contains, 
 
 A large pifture, by Raphael, from the story of 
 Tobit. The painter has chosen the interesting 
 circumstance of Tobias's return home with the 
 remedy for his father's blindness, chap. xi. 10, 
 " Tobit also went forth toward the door, and 
 " stumbled, but his son ran unto him;" and in- 
 
[ 148 ] 
 
 troduced into the father's countenance the feel- 
 ings of an affe£tionate parent, on a child's return 
 from a perilous and tedious absence; as well 
 as marked his haste, trepidation, and want of 
 vision, by making him throw down several 
 articles of furniture in his hurry to embrace 
 his son. 
 
 Landscape, by G. Poussin. — Three Land- 
 scapes, by Salvator Rosa — St. Francis, by Al- 
 bani. — A Madona's Head, by Carlo Dolce. — 
 Fall of Tivoli, by Vernet. 
 
 In the music-room is, perhaps, the most stri- 
 king pifture in the whole colle&ion — a Dead 
 Christ, and other figures, by Joseph Ribera, 
 commonly called Espagnioletto. This piece 
 may be said to be horribly fine, approaching 
 too nearly to nature to be pleasing; a strong 
 contrast of light and shade produces the effe&s 
 of real life in the accompanying figures; and 
 it is impossible to contemplate it attentively 
 without feeling a degree of that profound sor- 
 row which seems to penetrate the attendants, 
 and of that fixed despair which the Virgin's 
 countenance displays. The painting consists 
 of five whole figures, nearly as large as life, the 
 head of a sixth, and two angels above. One 
 supports the head of Christ, another presses his 
 
[ 149 3 
 
 feet, St. Peter looks on in silent sorrow, and the 
 Virgin lifts up her streaming eyes to Heaven, 
 in language inexpressible. A fine engraving 
 of this was made by Cunego, which is sub- 
 scribed — Ipse autem vulneratus est propter iniqui- 
 tales nostras. 
 
 A whole length of Blanche Lady Arundel, 
 copied from the decayed original, by Angelica 
 Kauffman. This heroine was the daughter of 
 Edward Somerset Earl of Worcester, a descen- 
 dant of the redoubtable John of Gaunt 3 and 
 Blanche proved herself worthy of her mighty 
 ancestors. She married Thomas second Baron 
 of Wardour, and during the civil wars in the 
 seventeenth century, defended the castle, in 
 the absence of her husband, for nine days, with 
 only twenty-five men against a party of one 
 thousand three hundred Parliamentarian for- 
 ces, headed by Sir Edward Hungerford and 
 Edmund Ludlow. At length, having expended 
 her ammunition and provisions, she surrendered 
 the castle on honourable terms \ which, how- 
 ever, were not observed by the captors, who 
 wreaked their vengeance on the buildings and 
 plantations. Shortly after the transaftion, Lord 
 Arundel returned, and took signal vengeance 
 for this breach of faith ; he sprang a mine under 
 
the castle,, and blew the greatest part of the 
 traitors into the air. The fortress of course 
 became his own again, but in so shattered and 
 dismantled a state, that it never afterwards was 
 defensible. Blanche died 06t. 28, 1 649, aged 66. 
 
 The drawing-room contains two exquisite 
 pieces, by Vernet ; a Storm, and a Calm and 
 Moonlight; the last would have been a better 
 pifture had the painter not introduced the lu- 
 minary. — Two Portraits, by Rembrandt.^ — A 
 very fine Head of a Saint, by Titian.— Saint 
 Jerome, by Rubens. — Small Head, by Raphael. 
 
 The ruin of the old castle is situated about 
 a mile to the east of the house, toward the 
 foot of a grand amphitheatrical hill, which 
 lifts its finely wooded sides to a great height 
 behind it. Between this edifice, and the house, 
 the ground is broken by plantations, sug- 
 gested by Mr. Wood, of Essex, the judicious- 
 ness of which Brown himself had the taste 
 to admire, and fortitude to applaud, evincing 
 his sincerity by frequent visits to the spot. 
 
 The path to the castle takes a serpentine 
 dire&ion up the ascent to the terrace, a walk 
 carried along the side of the sweeping hill 
 just mentioned, and shaded by the noble hang- 
 ing woods which adorn its sides. Here 
 
[ 151 ] 
 
 many happy openings let in occasionally the 
 distant country — the Somersetshire and Wilt* 
 shire hills, Glastonbury Tor, Stourhead, &c. 
 and the magnificent objefts in its more imme- 
 diate neighbourhood, the new stupendous non- 
 descript stru£lure of Mr. Beckford, and the 
 modern mansion of Wardour. But a nearer 
 objeft presently engages the attention, the 
 nodding ruin of the castle; its hoary walls 
 strikingly contrasted by the gloomy mantle of 
 ivy that envelopes their summits. A path, 
 through some neat parterres, ornamented with 
 artificial rock work, consisting of enormous 
 blocks of honey-combed stone, condufts to the 
 grand entrance $ over which appear the follow- 
 ing lines, surmounted by an ancient head in a 
 niche, and the arms of the family: — 
 
 " Gentis Arundeliae Thomas Lanhernia proles 
 " Junior,, hoc meruit, primo sedere loco. 
 " Ut sedit cecidit, sine crimine pleclitur ille 
 ff. Insons, insontem, fata sequuta probant, , 
 ?' Nam quae patris erunt Mattheus films emit, 
 " Empta auxit: Studio Principis au6ta maneiit. 
 
 Comprecor au6ta diu maneant augenda per eevum, 
 f< Haec dedit, eripuit, restituitque Deus. 
 
 " 1578." 
 
 Alluding to the fatal exit of Sir Thomas 
 Arundel, who was implicated with Edward 
 
[ 152 ] 
 
 Duke of Somerset in a charge of conspiring to 
 murder John Dudley Duke of Northumberland, 
 and executed Feb. 26, 1552. His estates, how- 
 ever, did not escheat; and his son Matthew 
 (knighted by Queen Elizabeth in 1574) men- 
 tioned in the above lines, succeeded to the ho- 
 nour and demesne of Wardour. Little remains 
 of the castle but an o£lagonal court, in which 
 is a well profoundly deep ; the other members 
 of the building having been partly battered 
 down by the Parliamentarian forces from the 
 opposite hill, in the memorable siege when it 
 was defended by the heroine Blanche, and partly 
 destroyed on the return of her husband, A 
 little below the castle, a banquetting-room of- 
 fers an agreeable asylum in the summer-time ; 
 adapted to the scorching heat of the dog-days 
 by windows of painted glass, and other cir- 
 cumstances that render it gloomy, cool, and se^ 
 questered. 
 
 The noble owner of Wardour permits car- 
 riages to pass to the turnpike by a road that 
 runs through the park to the north of the 
 \ house, and climbs up a gentle hill for a mile, 
 affording a beautiful view of the subjacent and 
 distant country. It then loses itself in a wood, 
 and shortly after opens again into the public 
 
[ 153 ] 
 
 carriage-way leading from Hindon to Salisbury. 
 Emerging from this bed of shade, we find our- 
 selves in a different country to what we have 
 hitherto travelled; the beautiful down, with its 
 velvet carpet, now swells on each side of us, 
 and little white breaches in it evince, that we 
 are entered upon the huge belt of chalk which 
 crosses the kingdom from Sussex to Dorset- 
 shire. The scenery, indeed, that it affords is 
 not pi6luresque, but still may be called pleasing. 
 The eye reposes with delight on the smoothness 
 of its vivid verdure, and the graceful varieties 
 of its undulating outline prevent the languor 
 we should quickly feel, were our vision thrown 
 over an extensive flat surface, as bare of orna- 
 ment, and destitute of objefts, as the Wiltshire 
 downs are. This style of country continues for 
 some miles, until the rich pleasure-grounds of 
 Wilton appear, spreading themselves over the 
 acclivity of a hill that commands the open coun- 
 try by which "they are surrounded. A richly- 
 ornamented gate, or porter's lodge, admits 
 the traveller to this noble mansion, the invalu- 
 able repository of many exquisite examples of 
 ancient art. These, indeed, are so numerous, 
 as entirely to prevent me from noticing them 
 individually; I must, therefore, make my obser- 
 
[ 1-54 ] 
 
 vations slight as well as general, and refer you 
 for more particular information to a copious 
 and comprehensive catalogue of the " Curiosi- 
 osities of Wilton-House," drawn up by Thomas 
 Earl of Pembroke, assisted by Nicholas Haym, 
 Sir Andrew Fountayne, Martin Folkes, and 
 Do£ior Pococke. The performance, as one 
 might expeft from the constellation of antiqua- 
 ries engaged it, evinces much reading, and an 
 intimate acquaintance with classical lore, and 
 extending itself to one hundred and fifty o&avo 
 pages ; but much of the interest and entertain- 
 ment it might otherwise have possessed, is 
 wanting, in consequence of the compilers con- 
 fining themselves to dry mythological and his- 
 torical details in their account of the statues and 
 busts, without entering into a description of the 
 peculiar beauties, costume, and attributes of 
 each; the places where they were found, from 
 whom purchased, &c The entrance-porch exhi- 
 bits the only piece of architecture now remain- 
 ing, executed by Hans Holbein, who was as fa- 
 mous in this branch of the arts as he was in 
 portrait painting. The whole palace, indeed, 
 had been designed by Holbein for the first Earl 
 of Pembroke, and afterwards erefted on the scite 
 of Wilton Abbey, granted to that nobleman by 
 
[ 15.5 ] 
 
 Henry VIII. But this was consumed by fire, 
 and the porch just mentioned the only member 
 that escaped the flames. The injury which 
 the mansion had sustained by conflagration, 
 was repaired by Inigo Jones, and may be ad- 
 mired for the elegant and just proportions of 
 its apartments, though not for \h&meubles with 
 which they are furnished. One of the best spe- 
 cimens of Inigo's art is, perhaps, the garden- 
 front of this mansion, extending one hundred 
 and ninety-four feet in length; which is so ex- 
 quisite, as to plead an excuse for the vanity of 
 the archite£f, who, returning from his travels 
 in Italy, and aware of that absurd prejudice of 
 the English, w r hich always preferred foreign to 
 native artists, changed his own Welsh christian 
 name Ynyr, into the more captivating and 
 melodious one of Inigo. When I tell you 
 that the antiquities in this colleftion comprise 
 the whole of those possessed by the Cardinals 
 Richelieu and Mazarine, together with a con- 
 siderable part of such as were gathered with 
 so much industry, taste, and expence by Lord 
 Arundel, you will not wonder at my shrinking 
 from the task of describing them ; master-pieces 
 of ancient sculpture occur, indeed, in such pro- 
 fusion on every side, that the mind is over- 
 
[ 156 ] 
 
 whelmed with the variety of entertainment 
 offered to it. But it is some consolation to an 
 Englishman* whilst contemplating such august 
 produ&ions, to observe, that the skill of his 
 own countrymen has followed with faithful 
 imitation, and almost passibus aquis, some of the 
 noblest of these efforts of the chissel ; for though 
 the Venus de Medici of Wilton be doubtless in- 
 ferior to the matchless excellence of the Floren- 
 tine original, yet it is certainly equal to many a 
 choice antique morsel in this capital colle£tion. 
 Amongst a multitude of other invaluable speci- 
 mens of sculpture the following may be con- 
 sidered, perhaps, as best deserving attention. 
 
 In the Palladian lodge, amid a groupe of busts, 
 is the statue of Apollo, with a fragment of the 
 lyre in his hand. Of this work the hair, the 
 right shoulder, the side, and the back, are ex- 
 tremely grand. 
 
 In the centre of the vestibule a colossal statue 
 of the same god, with modern legs and feet, 
 and, perhaps, the right arm, from the elbow 
 part downwards. The fleshy contours of the 
 sides and breast attract particular notice, as 
 well as the inimitable anatomy of the back. 
 
 The great hall exhibits a singular and incon- 
 gruous mixture of precious antiquities, pieces 
 
t 157 ] 
 
 of armour, the spoils of battle won by William 
 Earl of Pembroke* at the battle of St. Quintin ; 
 and the huge antlers of elk deer. In this apart- 
 ment we should attend particularly to 
 
 A Panthea, of which the right arm is want- 
 ing; the left leg and thigh are so round, easy, 
 and fine, that we cannot but wonder the rest 
 of the figure should be executed in a style ap* 
 proaching to stiffness. , 
 
 A very fine statue of Didia C/drd, daughter 
 of the Emperor Didius Julianus, wrapped in a 
 robe. She is represented sitting, and holds in 
 her right hand a senatorial roll, as an emblem of 
 dignity, she having been honoured by the senate 
 with the title of Augusta; her left hand is 
 lifted up: we observe, however, the decline of 
 the arts in the hardness of the hand and the 
 stiffness of the hair. 
 
 A statue of Antinotis, the freedma'n and fa- 
 vourite of Hadrian. The head is highly finished, 
 particularly the chin ; and the expression of the 
 face exquisitely soft. A modern fashion has 
 rendered the curled head of the statue suffici-' 
 ently notorious. The left hand holds a roll; 
 the right is fixed on the hip, with the elbow out. 
 
 A statue of Esculapius, x>f the latter age, 
 but extremely well executed as to the breast, 
 
.... ' ' c 158 3 ; v iM 
 
 right arm, and shoulder, which are naked and 
 beautifully soft. 
 
 Upon a sarcophagus, the figure of an Ama- 
 zon, (marked by the circumstance of* the right 
 breast being wanting) kneeling and covering 
 herself with her shield. The knees and body 
 below the breast are of the finest execution. 
 
 A very remarkable statue of Bacchus, car- 
 rying Silenus on his shoulders; he has grapes 
 in his right hand, and on his head. The part 
 wherethe figures of the two personages unite, 
 may be considered as the best executed of the 
 whole; though the contGur of the young god 
 is very masterly. I cannot think the head of 
 Bacchus at all equal to the other parts. 
 
 At the bottom of the stair-case is 
 
 A colossal statue of Hercules, seven feet ten 
 inches high, one of the finest pieces in the col- 
 lection; and in a good state of preservation. 
 The artist has discovered much judgment in 
 the choice of his attitude ; and much skill in the 
 admirable expression of strength which he has 
 thrown into every limb. 
 
 A colossal bust of Alexander the Great. 
 
 In the second window, a statue of Bacchus ; 
 a youth, slender, graceful, and animated. 
 
[ 159 ] 
 
 In the hunting-room is another fine statue of 
 the same god^ of which the right leg is modern ; 
 the arms and face are soft, round, and fleshy. 
 Grace and elegance charafterise this statue. 
 
 A statue of the Ephesian Diana, in the Egyp- 
 tian style * her face, hands, and feet, the only 
 parts which appear, are of black marble ; the 
 rest of the figure is wrapped up and decorated 
 in the grotesque Egyptian manner; on her 
 head she wears a turreted crown. 
 
 Aamgnificent groupe of modern workman- 
 ship, representing the Rape of the Sabines, from 
 the antique original. 
 
 A noble statue of Shakespeare, by Schen- 
 inaaker; with the following lines on the scroll: 
 
 <( Life's but- a walking shadow* 
 
 " A poor player 
 €C That struts and frets his hour 
 
 ee Upon the stage, 
 u And then is heard no more." 
 
 An exquisite copy of the dying Gladiator, 
 standing till lately in the library, (which, by the 
 bye, is now nearly empty, the antiques having 
 been removed from thence.) 
 
 Hercules and Philoffetes, a grand piece of 
 sculpture, standing upon a sarcophagus. The 
 hero, fainting and exhausted, (his club dropping 
 
[ 140 ] 
 
 to the ground) is falling backwards, and, with 
 much difficulty, supported by his friend; a 
 smaller figure, who seems to be sinking under 
 the weight of his gigantic form. 
 
 Another groupe equally striking; Hercules 
 engaging the river Achelous, represented under 
 a form, the upper part of which is human, 
 and the lower snakes. Hercules throws his 
 arm round the neck of his antagonist, and 
 is apparently strangling him ; whilst the latter 
 entwines his serpents round the hero's thighs 
 and the unguarded parts of his body. There 
 is indescribable strength and spirit in this 
 sculpture. 
 
 The statue of Isis, of the ponderous Theban 
 iron-stone. She is represented kneeling down, 
 and sitting upon her heels, holding before her 
 a small figure of Osiris, whom she is said to 
 have found floating in a cista, or coffin, on the 
 shores of Phoenicia, and rescued from his peri- 
 lous situation. The face of Isis, and the figure 
 of Osiris, are black, the costume of the statue is 
 of white marble. The former is crowned with 
 the sacred flower; her hair divides into two parts, 
 which flow over each shoulder. Upon the. 
 whole, this piece of sculpture has less stiffness 
 than the Egyptian statuary generally exhibits. 
 
[ 161 ] 
 
 A fine figure of Livia, third wife of Augustus. 
 Another equally good, of Faustina,- wife of 
 Antoninus Pius. 
 
 The taste of the late lord for horsemanship, 
 which he carried so far as to write a treatise on 
 the subjefci, is manifested in the ornaments and 
 decorations of many parts of the house, but 
 more especially in the apartment called the 
 manege, or hunting-room, which is wholly fitted 
 up with paintings of horses in every attitude. 
 
 But the boast of Wilton-House, in the line of 
 original paintings, is the noble colleftion that 
 it exhibits of the works of Vandyke. The 
 family piece, consisting of Philifi Earl of Pembroke, 
 his Countess, and eight more whole lengths, 
 has ever been allowed to be a perfect school of 
 that great master ; and though damaged by the 
 criminal curiosity of the fellow, to whom it was 
 ientrusted to be cleaned, (who, anxious to dis- 
 cover the first colouring, scratched off the super- 
 ficial tints with his knife) it still impresses the 
 mind with admiration of the talents of Van- 
 dyke ; talents which have been by no means 
 done justice to, in Baron's engraving of this 
 famous pifture. Were you to see the original, 
 you would not only allow, I think, the justice 
 of this remark, but at once give up the positive 
 
 M 
 
I 162 ] 
 
 opinion you have formed in favour of the por- 
 traits of Lord Strafford and his secretary, at 
 Wentworth-House; or, at least, you would be 
 obliged to pronounce, with the Irishman, that 
 they were both the chef cTceuvres of Vandyke. 
 
 There are, also, a very fine laughing Demo- 
 eritus. — An Old Man selling sugar-plumbs to 
 children, all the figures laughing^ by Frank 
 Hals.— Single Head, illuminated by a candle 
 placed before the face, by Van Schalken. 
 
 The grounds have much of their beauty from 
 nature, and borrow some from art 5 distant ob- 
 je£ts being introduced, and managed with con- 
 siderable judgment and taste. 
 
 The Palladian bridge, also, is shewn as a 
 beautiful specimen of architefture, as well as a 
 judicious ornament. The former claim to praise 
 we may allow it, but must altogether deny the 
 latter, since the incongruity of sticking a temple 
 upon a bridge, over which a wise man would 
 pass as quickly as possible without stopping to 
 make vows or pour out petitions, however 
 san&ioned by the authority of [iraSt'ice, is too 
 obvious to be reconciled to nature, truth, or taste. 
 
 Wilton is a borough town, returning two 
 members to Parliament; but neither in size 
 nor appearance retaining that grandeur which 
 
[ ^3 ] 
 
 was formerly sufficient for it to impose a name 
 upon the county, and to reckon within itself * 
 twelve churches, only one of which at present 
 remains. The beauty and superiority of the 
 Wilton Carpeting are generally known and 
 acknowledged. About one hundred looms are 
 employed in making this article, and five hun- 
 dred for the manufa£ture of Linseys ; one of 
 the latter machines may be seen in the house 
 of every poor inhabitant, by which a woman 
 and boy are enabled, in three weeks, to earn 
 the miserable pittance of ten shillings. 
 
 With still less attention than I have paid tp 
 Wilton, shall I pass through Salisbury, with its 
 noble cathedral, (rendered the most finished 
 piece of Gothic architecture by the liberality 
 of Barrington the present Bishop of Durham, 
 and the exquisite taste of Mr. Wyatt) since 
 ample descriptions of it are in the hands of 
 every one. You must, therefore, be content to 
 refer to the numerous Guides with which the in- 
 dustry of others have furnished the public, and 
 accompany my route to Old Sarum, two miles 
 from the city, of which it is the parent. 
 
 The labours of our ancestors, the ancient 
 Britons, assume in no part of England a more 
 
[ 164 ] 
 
 majestic appearance than in two instances in 
 the neighbourhood of Salisbury, OldSarum and 
 Stonehenge, a city and a temple. The former 
 is seen for miles round, lifting its proud head to 
 an enormous height, and, after the tempests of 
 Heaven have beaten upon it for more than two 
 thousand years, still claiming admiration from its 
 elevation, hugeness, and extent. It is a circular 
 work of most regular plan, consisting of the 
 following members— a vast vallum, with a ditch 
 within it; a flat space, bounded by a second 
 still larger vallum about ninety feet in its oblique 
 ascent ; this falls into another more extensive 
 flat space, measuring in breadth one hundred 
 and forty-five paces, terminated by an immense 
 ditch, and a third mighty vallum, rising obli- 
 quely, in an angle of fifty degrees or more with 
 the plane of the horizon, to the height of one 
 hundred and fifty feet ; within this is the in- 
 terior circular area, of eighty-five paces in dia- 
 meter. Of the three parts into which the work 
 is thus divided, the first, or outward one, seems 
 to have been occupied by the suburbs; the se- 
 cond, by the city; and the third, by the castle. 
 The entrance into the outward area was to 
 the eastward, by two narrow passes on each 
 side of a curious horse-shoe mount, ditched and 
 
0 165 ] 
 
 banked, forming a rude but strong sort of horn- 
 work. Opposite to this, at the western point, 
 was another gateway of smaller dimensions, and 
 somewhat different form. The interior vallum 
 seems to have been walled entirely round, and 
 part of a gateway to the west, where was the 
 only entrance, is remaining to this day, con- 
 sisting of an unintelligible congestion of flint 
 stones and blocks of grit, cemented by a very 
 strong mortar. Two dorsa, or banks, of great 
 height and dimensions, run exactly north and 
 south from the interior of the second vallum to 
 the edge of the last ditch, terminating in a path 
 way that takes an oblique and gentle descent 
 into the hollow, for the accommodation of the 
 garrison that inhabited the castle. 
 
 In the north-east corner of the first area, a 
 singular discovery was made at the breaking 
 up of the frost in 1795, which may still be seen, 
 though not in the perfe£tion wherein it ap- 
 peared on its being found, as the farmer who 
 rents the land partly destroyed it, to prevent the 
 curious from treading down his corn in their 
 visits to it. It is a subterraneous passage, cut 
 out of the solid chalk rock, and dipping for the 
 first twenty feet in a direftion nearly perpendi- 
 cular. At the entrance it may be about six 
 
[ 166 ] 
 
 feet high and five feet wide, but gradually as* 
 sumes wider and higher dimensions, as well as 
 a less abrupt descent, as it continues its course. 
 We penetrated about forty yards under the earth 
 by means of this excavation, and were then 
 stopped by a quantity of rubbish, which had 
 been cast into it by the parsimonious farmer. 
 Its opening had been secured by oaken planks 
 placed over it, and a strong door fixed on coarse 
 stone-work just within it ; the descent had been 
 facilitated by steps cut in the chalk rock, which 
 appeared on the first discovery to have been 
 little worn, and evinced that the passage was a 
 very secret one ; probably designed either for a 
 sallee port, a deposit for treasure, or a magazine 
 for the materials of war. Due north of this 
 hole, and in a situation exa£tly corresponding 
 with it, in relation to the entrance, is another 
 hollow or sinking of the ground, so^ perfe6lly 
 similar to the appearance of the ground in the 
 neighbourhood of the one just described, pre- 
 viously to its discovery, that I cannot doubt a like 
 subterraneous passage would be found there, 
 if proper investigation were made for the pur- 
 pose of dete&ing it. 
 
 All our antiquaries, you know, my dear sir, 
 agree in giving Old Sarum a British original, 
 
[ 167 ] 
 
 though the name by which it was known for 
 ages be of Roman fabrication. The faft is, 
 this latter people very wisely availed them- 
 selves of all the advantages that presented 
 themselves on their arrival here; and whenever 
 they found a British camp or fortress, which, 
 from eligible circumstances of situation, might 
 be converted to their purposes, they immedi- 
 ately made use of it, Romanized its name, and 
 turned it into a station. Such was their pro- 
 ceeding in the instance before us. The wide 
 extent of view which Old Sarum commanded 
 on every side, made it an admirable quarter for 
 thfe Roman military, who from its proud sum- 
 mit might at once survey and awe. the distant 
 country, and communicate with the other sta- 
 tions spread over the extensive flats of Salis- 
 bury plain. They, therefore, reared the eagle 
 on the strong hold of the ancient Britons; and 
 by softening and amplifying the old expressive 
 Celtic name Sorfidun, or Dry-Hill, into Sorbio- 
 dunum, attempted to deceive posterity with the 
 opinion, that the enormous work had owed its 
 origin to Roman labour. Delighted with this 
 open and commanding elevation, the Emperor 
 Severus is said to have occasionally resided at 
 Sorbiodtinum ; and after it had yielded to the Saxon 
 
[ 168 ] 
 
 arms under Kenric in 553, it became the fre- 
 quent residence of the monarchs of that line. 
 
 In 1003, it experienced all the waste of fire, 
 and all the horrors of the sword from Canute 
 the Dane, who captured it; but before the con- 
 clusion of the same century, the proteflion and 
 liberality of William the Conqueror raised it 
 once more into consideration, by authorizing 
 Herman Bishop of Sherborne to transfer within 
 its ramparts the episcopal see of that diocese. 
 Osmond, the successor of that prelate, adorned it 
 with a cathedral, and nearly at the same time 
 all the estates and orders of the kingdom were 
 summoned to its walls, to take the oath of al- 
 legiance imposed upon all his subje&s immedi- 
 ately after the memorable compilation of the 
 Domesday book. Increasing population, scar- 
 city of water, and above all the insolence of the 
 royal garrison which- filled the castle, and 
 exercised at will upon the inhabitants below 
 injury or impertinence, induced them in the 
 reign of Richard L to abandon Old Sarum, and 
 fix their residences in the valley to the south 
 of it, the scite of the present Salisbury. From 
 this period the ancient city declined, and be- 
 fore the end of the fifteenth century wass en- 
 tirely deserted. Nothing now remains of its 
 
[ 169 ] 
 
 pristine magnificence; not even a house to tell 
 the traveller that here once was a city ; all is 
 solitude and silence, and the only vestige of its 
 former bustle and business is a little manufactory 
 
 of M of P ; a process carried on 
 
 every seven years, under an old tree in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the ramparts, by a seleft company of 
 two gentlemen, (possessing between them thirteen 
 votes) who have the exclusive privilege of pre- 
 paring this article for the borough of OldSarum. 
 
 We are now fairly upon Salisbury plain; a 
 boundless extent of downs, tenanted only by 
 the listless shepherd, his faithful dog, and their 
 fleecy care. In vain the eye looks round for some 
 obje£t to relieve the uniformity of the scene; 
 all is flat, bare, and desolate, nothing interpo- 
 sing between it and the distant horizon. In 
 the midst of this solitude, the little valley in 
 which Amesbury is situated at length appears, 
 pleasingly contrasting the wide expanse of 
 sterility through which we have been wander- 
 ing, by the beautiful wooded hill sloping up 
 from the mansion of the Duke of Queensbery; 
 and crowned on its summit by a huge remain 
 of Roman castrametation, a camp of Vespasian. 
 His G race's house, the only ornament of a village 
 that gave birth to the amiable Addison, was from 
 
[ 170 ] 
 
 the design of Inigo Jones, and, like most of 
 the other buildings of this architeft, is simple 
 and classical Agreeably to the taste of the last 
 age, it stands in a flat, through which the 
 Avon winds its eccentric course; although the 
 hill at its back offered a mdre commanding, and 
 perhaps a more wholesome, situation. This, 
 however, was reserved for the gardener to dis- 
 play his skill upon; who has performed his 
 work by forming its face into a zig-zag ascen- 
 ding path, and cutting the woods on its head 
 into rectilinear walks. On the scite of this 
 mansion a nunnery formerly stood, (founded 
 by Elfrida) whose inmates had imbibed so 
 much of the spirit of their patroness, that they 
 were expelled by Henry II. for their ill lives. 
 But the prince quickly transplanted to the spot 
 from Normandy another bevy of the same use- 
 less beings, who continued here till Henry 
 VIII. involved both nuns and monks in one ge- 
 neral destru&ion. The scite of the monastery 
 was then granted to Edward Earl of Hertford, 
 from whose family it passed into that of the 
 nobleman who at present possesses it. A new 
 scene now exhibited itself at Amesbury, and 
 in lieu of the senseless superstitions of monastic 
 life, this seat, under the auspices of the Queens- 
 
[ mi;) 
 
 bery family, became the theatre of wit and 
 elegant literature; the spot where Pope occa- 
 sionally indulged his satyrical muse; the gentle 
 Gay pursued his moral song; and Addison un- 
 bent his cultivated mind. At present such are 
 the singular revolutions to which all human 
 things are subjeft, it serves again the unholy 
 purpose of marring the bountiful designs of 
 Providence, and destroying the uses of youth 
 and beauty, by affording a prison for thirty- 
 three nuns, all of English families, and formerly 
 settled in Lorraine in France. We went to visit 
 the sisterhood, but it was a melancholy scene; 
 the languor and sadness of every countenance 
 too clearly marked that depressed state of mind, 
 which is, of course, induced by the attempt to 
 extinguish the feelings of nature; and to triumph 
 over passions that, under proper regulation^ 
 are so necessary to the state and circumstances 
 of human beings; nor could we quit so many 
 female ^charms in hopeless thraldom, without 
 dropping an execration against that 
 
 € \ Sad Institution ; which austerely draws 
 
 " The female heart from nature's genial laws ; 
 
 fC Strangles Heavn's bounty, and converts to woe 
 
 " The plenteous source whence joy and life should flow." 
 
[ 172 ] 
 
 Our visit to another monument of superstition,, 
 in the neighbourhood of Amesbury, was at- 
 tended with very different emotions; this is 
 Stonehenge, constructed between two diverging 
 roads, one running to Warminster, the other to 
 Deptford Inn, at a short distance from this point 
 of division. The distant effeft of this stupen- 
 dous fabric is not so striking as the descrip- 
 tion of its magnitude might lead us to imagine, 
 since, being an isolated object, situated in the 
 heart of the plain, without any thing around it 
 for a standard of comparison, every impression 
 of its greatness is swallowed up and over- 
 whelmed in that idea of immensity which the 
 prospe£l on every side presents to the mind* 
 This very circumstance of unaccompanied loca- 
 lity, however, heightens, perhaps, the effe£t of 
 the fabric when we approach it; for the mind, 
 not being interrupted or distra£ted by neigh- 
 bouring obje&s, bends its undivided attention 
 to the solitary wonder before it. The monu- 
 ment consists of four concentric arrangements 
 of stones, the two outward circular* the two 
 inner elliptical; the whole surrounded by a 
 ditch, at the distance of one hundred and five 
 feet from the external circle of stones. Of the 
 outermost circle the general dimensions are, 
 
[ W ] 
 
 height, about fourteen feet; thickness, be- 
 tween three and four; breadth, between six 
 and seven ; they consisted of thirty rude upright 
 pillars, standing between three and four feet 
 apart from each other, crowned or conne£led 
 together at the top by as many imposts or trans- 
 verse stones, each about ten feet in length, and 
 three feet in thickness; the whole forming a 
 large circular inclosure, ninety-seven in diame- 
 ter. The interval or space between the two 
 stones, which point exactly north-east, is greater 
 than between the other columniations, and 
 seems to have been purposely widened in order 
 to afford an entrance into the interior of the 
 structure. Only seventeen of these upright 
 stones, and six of the connefting ones, are now 
 in their original situation. The second circular 
 arrangement occurs at nine feet distance from 
 the inner side of the one I have just described, 
 consisting of smaller upright stones, none of 
 them conne£ted together at the top by imposts, 
 except that which fronted the entrance, and 
 which was evidently intended for a second 
 gateway or portal to the more sacred parts of 
 the edifice. This circumstance, though never 
 noticed before, is sufficiently demonstrable 
 from the impost, furnished with mortices to re- 
 
[ 174 J 
 
 ceive the tenons of the uprights, which lies in 
 the immediate neighbourhood of the latter. 
 The number of the smaller uprights seem to 
 have been twenty-nine ; of these nine only re- 
 tain their original position. Thirteen feet ^ 
 within this second circle is the third arrange- 
 ment of stones, which assume an oval shape, 
 about sixty feet in its longer diameter, and 
 fifty-two in its shorter; and was anciently formed 
 by seven huge Trilithons, or combinations of 
 stones, each consisting of two uprights, and an 
 incumbent impost, separate and distin£t from 
 each other. The height of the largest pair of 
 uprights is twenty-eight feet, the breadth of 
 each seven feet, and the thickness three feet, 
 gradually tapering from the basis to the summit. 
 The imposts, one with the other, measure about 
 sixteen feet in length, four feet six inches in 
 breadth, and two feet six inches in thickness ; 
 each Trilithon is supposed to weigh about se- 
 venty tons. Two only of these compages are 
 now standing; one having given way and fallen 
 after the thaw in January 1797. The south- 
 western Trilithon, and indeed all the stones 
 towards that point, are higher than the others, 
 and seem to have risen, by a gradual elevation, 
 
[ 175 ] 
 
 to a more majestic size, in proportion as they 
 receded from the entrance into the pile. 
 
 Within these enormous compages of stones 
 another elliptical range of uprights occurs, 
 smaller than those before mentioned, but gra- 
 dually increasing in height and magnitude to- 
 wards the back of the temple, and tapering 
 from the basis upwards. They were nineteen 
 in number; two feet and a half broad ; one and 
 a half thick; and eight feet high. Towards 
 the upper end of the last arrangement in the 
 adytum stands the altar, or hearth-stone, origi- 
 nally one vast stone, four feet broad and six- 
 teen feet long, broken at present into three 
 fragments, all imbedded deeply in the earth. 
 On this, the carcases of the viftims, or at least 
 such parts of them as the priests devoted to the 
 gods, were consumed by fire. 
 
 Every member of this vast fabric displays the 
 marks of labour, and the contrivances of inge- 
 nuity. Traces of the chissel, handled with skill, ^ 
 are every where visible in the elegant forms 
 into which the vast Trilithons, and lesser up- 
 right pillars, have been wrought, and in the 
 mortices which accommodated the transverse 
 stones to the tenons of their supporters. The 
 admeasurements also are exa£t, and seem to 
 
[ 176 ] 
 
 have been uniformly taken from the ancient 
 Egyptian cubit, of twenty inches and four-fifths, 
 English, to each. 
 
 One hundred feet from the outward arrange- 
 ments of stone is, as I have before observed, a 
 circular ditch, about thirty feet in breadth, 
 formed by two parallel banks, entirely encir- 
 cling the whole, except on the north-east point, 
 where a gap occurs, affording entrance origi- 
 nally into the pile. Close to this gap is a huge 
 solitary stone, lying on the ground, tw r enty feet 
 in length, and six feet seven inches in breadth, 
 which seems to have been intended for the 
 first process in the bloody rites of Druidism — 
 the immolation of human and other vi&ims 
 offered to their sanguinary gods. 
 
 One hundred feet further to the north-east, 
 and immediately opposite to the entrance just 
 mentioned, another vast stone occurs, upwards 
 of seventeen feet high, but standing a little out 
 of the perpendicular, and bending towards the 
 temple. This may be considered as the pillar of 
 memorial, a customary appendage to the Gentile 
 places of worship in the early ages, which the 
 Jews, when about to take possession of the 
 land of Canaan, were strittly enjoined to over- 
 turn and destroy. H Ye shall utterly destroy 
 
[ 177 ] 
 
 11 all the places wherein the nations that ye shall 
 " possess, served their gods, upon the high 
 " mountains, and upon the hills, and upon every 
 " green tree ; and you shall overthrow their 
 " altars and break their pillars, and burn their 
 " groves with fire ; and you shall hew down 
 *f the graven images of their gods, and destroy 
 " the names of them out of that place." Two 
 other smaller stones are found on the inner 
 bank of the surrounding ditch, exaftly opposite 
 to each other, in a dire£iion east and west; 
 as well as two circular depressions, about 
 sixteen feet diameter, in the same bank, the 
 one lying S. S. E. and the other W. N. W. pro- 
 bably designed for the reception of the blood of 
 the vi&ims which were slain ; according ta the 
 description of a similar excavation mentioned 
 by Homer, wher> Ulysses says, 
 
 ** I from the scabbard drew the shining sword, 
 
 " And turning the black earth on every side, 
 
 " A cavern form'd, a cubit long and wide. 
 
 <e — Then died the sheep 5 a purple torrent flow'd, 
 
 " And all the cavern smoak'd with steaming blood" 
 
 Half a mile direaiy north of Stonehenge, 
 but evidently connected with it, is a munifi- 
 cent cursns, or Hippodrome, where the assem- 
 bled multitudes, on high and festal days, Cele- 
 
[ 178 ] 
 
 brated those various exercises, sports, and 
 races, which, you well know, attended all the 
 public and solemn religious meetings of the 
 ancients. This runs 'in a dire£lion east and 
 west, to the extent of six thousand Phoenician 
 cubits, or ten thousand English feet; com- 
 mencing on the declivity of a gentle hill, pass- 
 ing through the valley, and climbing the gra- 
 dual ascent of another elevation. It is included 
 within two parallel ditches and banks, three 
 hundred and fifty feet distant from each other; 
 avast oblong .barrow terminates it at the east- 
 ern end, on which, probably, the judges were 
 stationed to determine the prizes; whilst the 
 other extremity is bent into a curve, like the 
 ancient stadia, in conformity to whose sweep 
 the chariots and racers took their course, in or- 
 der to return to the goal from whence they had 
 sat out. The avenue from the temple dire£ls 
 itself towards the eastern end of this cursus, 
 making an angle of forty-five with the me- 
 ridional line; and, approaching it within one 
 thousand cubits, suddenly divides itself into 
 two ramifications; that on the left joining the 
 cursus in a north-western dire&ion, that on the 
 right pursuing its way, in the same propor- 
 tion of divergence, up a hill, and terminating 
 
[ 179 1 
 
 amid two groupes of barrows, each consisting 
 of seven. Two gaps in the banks, immedi- 
 ately opposite to the strait avenue that condu&s 
 to the temple, seem to evince, that this also 
 was originally continued on, till it reached 
 the cursns. 
 
 In estimating the labour and toil bestowed 
 upon Stonehenge, it is necessary for us to take 
 into consideration the materials with which it 
 is constructed, and the places from whence 
 such materials were brought \> as these parti- 
 culars may serve to prove the immense exertions 
 to which men can be stimulated, w T hen under 
 the united influence of superstition and vanity. 
 These materials consist of three sorts of stones, 
 sarson, or silicious grit, green granite \ and micacious 
 grit. The first used for the outer compages, 
 or circle, and the Trilithons; the second in the 
 small uprights - y the third for the altar, or hearth- 
 stone. The grey wethers, as they are called, 
 which cover Wroughton, Lockeredge, Clat- 
 ford, and Kennet bottoms, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Marlborough, fruitful only in enor- 
 mous stones, furnished the sarson, or silicious 
 grit y the granite must have been brought from 
 Dartmoor in Devonshire, as there is none met 
 with to the eastward of that place; the spot 
 
[ 180 ] 
 
 from whence the micacious grit was brought is 
 uncertain. 
 
 Curiosity has in all ages been naturally ex- 
 cited as to the designation of this stru&ure, the 
 purpose for which such vast trouble and pains 
 were exerted; and giants and conjurors, Bri- 
 tons, Saxons, and Danes, have, in turn, been 
 complimented with the arduous task. 
 
 " Thou noblest monument of Albion's Isle ! 
 
 " Whether by Merlin's aid from Scythia's shore 
 
 " To Amber s fatal plain Pendragon bore, 
 
 " Huge frame of giant-hands, the mighty pile, 
 
 " T' entomb his Britons slain by Hengist's guilej 
 
 u Or Druid priests, sprinkled with human gore, 
 
 " Taught mid thy massy maze their mystic lore : 
 
 ff Or Danim chiefs, enrich'd with savage spoil, 
 
 " To Victory's idol vast, an unhewn shrine, 
 
 * f Reared the rude heap j or, in thy hallow'd round, 
 
 €C Repose the icings of Brutus' genuine line.5 
 
 " Or here those kings in solemn state were crown'd: 
 
 €s Studious to trace thy wond'rous origin, 
 
 ic We muse on many an ancient tale renown'd." 
 
 Without troubling you, however, with a re- 
 petition of what you know already; or if not, 
 with what is not worth your knowing, I will 
 just observe, that it seems now to be generally 
 understood and allowed, that Stonehenge is a 
 monument of Druidical superstition. Mr. 
 King, indeed, with much learning and ingenu- 
 
[ 181 ] 
 
 ity, in the first part of his noble work Muniment 
 Antiqua, has established this beyond controversy; 
 and at the same time endeavoured to prove, 
 that the rites observed in it were precisely si- 
 milar to the superstitious pra£tices of the an- 
 cient Moabites ; that Stonehenge was the great, 
 high place of British Paganism; that the outer 
 stone was the fiillar of memorial-, the mass at 
 the entrance of the ditch, the slaughtering-stone 
 for killing' the vifitims; the excavations in the 
 banks, pits for receiving the blood j the Trili- 
 thons, high altars of oblation for placing the sacri- 
 fices upon before they were consumed ; and the 
 great stone within the whole, the spot on which 
 the last rite was performed, that of consuming 
 the vi&ims by fire. On considering most accu- 
 rately the whole of this magnificent remain of 
 antiquity, and reading with equal attention 
 the observations of Mr. King upon it, I cannot 
 but profess myself to be completely convinced 
 by his arguments of the truth of what he wishes 
 to establish $ but, in addition to his conclusion, 
 I would further assert, that although Stone- 
 henge be aDruidical monument, it still is of con- 
 siderably later date than many other remains of 
 a similar nature in the kingdom. Indeed I do 
 not believe it to have been the work of the ori- 
 
[ 182. ] 
 
 ginal inhabitants of Britain. Compared with 
 that vast stru&ure at Abury, about eighteen 
 miles from Stonehenge, it assumes a degree of 
 elegance, that at once proves the arts must 
 have made a considerable progress, between 
 the construftion of the former and the latter. 
 The one is more vast and majestic, but at the 
 same time more rude and inartificial; the other, 
 on a less stupendous scale, but more correft 
 and elaborate. How is this to-be accounted 
 for? I conceive in the following manner: that 
 Stonehenge was built by the second large body 
 of Belgic Gauls, (who passed over into this 
 country about five hundred years after the 
 aboriginal migrators had found their way here) 
 and that Abury was constru&ed by the first 
 party. Severe and manifold, doubtless, were 
 the eonfli£ts between these new invaders and 
 the old possessors of Britain, and long was the 
 struggle, (as the numerous Celtic earth-works 
 in the West of England evince) before the new 
 comers obtained a permanent footing in Britain. 
 But wearied at length with mutual slaughter, the 
 opposing tribes, were brought to compromise; 
 by which all Cornwall, Devonshire, Dorset- 
 shire, Somersetshire, Hampshire, and a great 
 part of Wiltshire, were ceded to the invaders ; 
 
[ 183 ] 
 
 and the other parts of the kingdom adjudged 
 to the earlier inhabitants. To ascertain the 
 boundaries, and prevent further disputes, a line 
 of demarcation was necessary, anothit vast 
 vallum was cast up, called Wandsdyke^ (lite- 
 rally the ditch of division, from the ^itish 
 Gwakan, to divide) commencing at Posset- 
 point, near Bristol, passing by Great-Bedwin 
 in Wiltshire, and meeting the sea on the south- 
 ern coast of the kingdom ; a boundary which 
 still left their great national temple, Abury, in 
 the possession of the aborigines. Deeply im- 
 mersed in Druidical superstition, but at the 
 same time possessing some knowledge of clas- 
 sical rites from the Greeks, who had been long 
 settled on the southern shores of Gaul, the new 
 migrators brought with them into Britain a 
 motley kind of worship, and a warm spirit of 
 religion. Arrived at the eastern boundaries of 
 their possessions, they beheld with astonish- 
 ment the enormous pile which rose but a few 
 miles on the other side of it, the great national 
 theatre of the worship of their neighbours ; and 
 were immediately seized with an emulation to 
 excel, or at least to equal, this proud monu- 
 ment of architecture. To surpass in magnitude 
 the temple of Abury was beyond their hopes ; 
 
C 184 ) 
 
 it could only be rivalled by elegance, which 
 their better acquaintance with the arts enabled 
 them to excel in. To the mighty labour, there- 
 fore, the whole tribe 'went immediately, and 
 produced Stonehenge, a work that at once 
 blended majesty and beauty; and, at least, car- 
 ried off the palm of archite&ural splendour 
 from the neighbouring strufture, if it could not 
 surpass it in vastness. Thus these two prodi- 
 gious piles became rival temples, like those of 
 Jerusalem and Mount Gerizim; and doubtless 
 excited as much animosity in the breasts of 
 their different worshippers as subsisted between 
 the Jews and Samaritans of old. 
 
 The little villages which imbed themselves 
 in the hollows of Salisbury plain, and meet the 
 traveller between Stonehenge and Heytesbury, 
 would be infinitely beautiful, if their pi£hires- 
 que effeft were not greatly lessened by the bar- 
 barous practice .of depriving the trees of all 
 their lateral branches, and converting them 
 into hop-poles, with a tuft of verdure on their 
 tops. It is much to be lamented, when a dearth 
 of fuel in a country induces its inhabitants to 
 adopt an (economy so totally at war with taste 
 and natural beauty. Between two and three 
 
X 185 ] 
 
 hundred people find support in the manufac- 
 tories of Heytesbury, which exhibit every 
 branch of the wool trade, from cleansing the 
 article to packing the cloth for sale ; but, per- 
 haps, its neighbourhood is still more interesting, 
 from the variety of earth-works and military 
 remains, Roman, Saxon, and Danish, which 
 occur with endless repetition. 
 
 The road from Heytesbury to Westbury is 
 particularly fruitful in these vestiges of ancient 
 warfare ; since almost every proud height which 
 swells out of the down to the eastward of it is 
 crowned by vallations. The most conspicu- 
 ous of these works are Knook-Castle, Scratch- 
 bury, Battlebury, and Old-Camps. The first 
 lies between two and three miles to the east 
 of Heytesbury, in form a parallelogram, con- 
 taining within its mounds an area of two acres. 
 Scratchbury lying three miles direftly west of 
 Knook, is upon a rrtuch larger scale, containing 
 within a single vallum, but of vast size, forty- 
 one acres and a half. Battlebury lies a mile 
 north-west of the last-mentioned camp, and is 
 strengthened by a triple vallation. Old or 
 Oldbury camp, as it is called, lies four miles 
 east of Heytesbury, and near East-Codford, of 
 
[ 186 ] 
 
 a circular form, and two hundred and sixteen 
 yards in diameter, commanding from its flat 
 summit a grand and extensive view. But no- 
 tices of the Romans in this country are not 
 confined to the monuments of their warlike 
 operations alone, since 1 numerous traces of Ro- 
 man civil life occur also in the same neighbour- 
 hood. Porticoes and tessellated pavements 
 have been discovered in a spot, called Pitmead, 
 a little to the west of the Warminster road to 
 Sarum, between the villages of Norton and 
 Bishopstrow, which evince, that the elegances 
 and comforts of polished society were practised 
 here in the vale below, u^der the prote£tion 
 of the military camps in the heights above. 
 
 In the latter end of the year 1786, part of a 
 Roman pavement was accidentally discovered, 
 of which a Mrs. Down, who then resided at 
 Warminster, being apprised, she visited the 
 spot, examined it carefully, made further suc- 
 cessful researches, took drawings of the re- 
 mains, and transmitted them to the late Daines 
 Barrington, who communicating the same to the 
 Antiquarian Society, they were published in 
 the Archaeologia of 1787, The additional dis- 
 coveries of Mrs. Down consisted of a Mosaic 
 pavement; part of a portico, fifty-six feet long 
 
[187 ] 
 
 by ten feet wide; the flooring of a beautiful 
 apartment, formed of tessera, on which lay a 
 mutilated statue of Diana, as it was supposed, 
 with a hare at her feet. Of this pavement 
 the greater part was preserved, taken up, and 
 conveyed to Longleat, by order of, the late 
 Marquis of Bath, where it now is. 
 
 After the curiosity of the public had been 
 gratified, the discoveries were negle£ted and 
 forgotten, and no person had spirit enough to 
 pursue any researches in Pitmead, from the 
 year 1787 to the present summer, when Mr. 
 Cunnington, of Heytesbury, (a very respe£iable 
 dealer in the woollen line, who has long pur- 
 sued, with considerable success, antiquarian 
 investigations) discovered another pavement, 
 composed of tesserae, nineteen feet three inches 
 square. Being much mutilated, great part of 
 its original beauty was lost, but sufficient re- 
 mained to prove that its design had been beau- 
 tiful, and its execution good. It consisted of 
 a circular area, inclosed within a square frame, 
 edged on the inside with a neat border, and an- 
 other on the outside with a labyrinth fret 3 a bird 
 and flowers seemed to have formed the orna- 
 ments of the area. A grand portico was found 
 also at the same time, sixty feet in length and ten 
 
[ 183 ] 
 
 in breadth ; and many circumstances occurred 
 to render it probable, that it had stretched ori- 
 ginally to the length of one hundred and forty 
 feet. Remains of a sudatory, and a hypo- 
 caust, tubellated bricks for heating the same, 
 tiles, tesserae, &c. in vast profusion, and an- 
 other unintelligible foundation, were laid open; 
 which seemed to evinSe, that the villa to which 
 they belonged was not inferior in size or ac- 
 commodations to either of those of which 
 Pliny the younger has left us such minute 
 accounts. 
 
 The, woollen manufactories of Trowbridge, 
 famous for its cloth trade, and those of its rival 
 Bradford, are worthy inspection; and in the 
 church of the latter town, is a most beautiful 
 window of painted glass, representing, in the 
 p(jrfe6lion of the art, various portions of scrip- 
 ture history, brought from abroad at consider- 
 able expence by a Mr. Ferret, and presented 
 to the parish. The liberal donor is comme- 
 morated by a monument, placed beneath the 
 window. 
 
 The frequent recurrence of hill and dale no- 
 tify our approach to the romantic country about 
 Bath ; and the road passing through thesingu- 
 
[ 189 ] 
 
 lar villages of Freshford and Stoke, offers in- 
 numerable beauties to the traveller. The 
 meandering Avon catches his eye occasionally, 
 as well as the Canal, which, like a new friend, 
 adheres most lovingly to its side, presenting 
 its different aquedufts to our notice; particu- 
 larly that which is called the Dundas aqueduct, 
 a magnificent piece of architecture, with a large 
 central semi-circular arch, and two lateral ellip- 
 tical opes. Winding up the hill, the road then 
 ascends to the Brass-Knocker, a neat public- 
 house, and after indulging the admirer of na- 
 ture w T ith one o£ the most varied landscapes in 
 this part of Britain, drops gently down a long 
 hill to Widcombe, and concludes the excursion, 
 by conducing the traveller again into Bath, 
 over the Old Bridge. 
 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 R. W, 
 
EXCURSION IL 
 
 LETTER III. 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 dear sir, Bath, Sept, l&tb, 1800. 
 
 A MONGST the laws of the twelve Tables, 
 . most of which are founded in the soundest 
 sense, and bear the marks of the greatest po- 
 litical wisdom, we meet with gne prohibiting 
 the burying or burning of the dead within the 
 walls of the city ; Hominem morttmm in urhe ne 
 
[ 192 ] 
 
 sejielito neve urito. Salutary as this "practice was 
 found to be in their own warm climate, the 
 Romans adopted it wherever their arms gained 
 them a 'settlement; and instead of that mon- 
 strous association of the dead with the living, 
 which modern customs exhibit, in burying the 
 departed in the churches we frequent, or in 
 the streets which we inhabit, they judiciously 
 moved the remains of the deceased to be con- 
 sumed or buried without the limits of popula- 
 tion. But notwithstanding this ordinance, the 
 religious spirit which characterised the Romans, 
 and their superstitions respecting the departed, 
 still induced them to be careful of their ashes, 
 and of the memorials which affe£tion might 
 ereft in remembrance of them. They, there- 
 fore, established their burial-places in the im- 
 mediate neighbourhood of their cities 5 and in 
 order to strengthen the moral sentiment, and 
 give corroboration to piety, they celebrated the 
 obsequies/and ere6fed the monuments of the 
 dead, on the side of the public roads, that the tra- 
 veller might be brought to the contemplation 
 of his own mortality, and led to refle£l, that his 
 life, like his journey, nlust quickly come to an end . 
 
 The road by which we leave Bath in the pre- 
 sent excursion affords an illustration of these 
 
C 193 1 
 
 observations; it pursues the ancient military 
 way from Aquae Solis to Durocovinium, or 
 Cirencester, and, for the distance of half a mile 
 from the point whence it extends itself beyond 
 Walcot church, has afforded on each side of it 
 ' (as circumstances have permitted investigation) 
 various evidences of human sepulture in its 
 immediate vicinity; such as monumental cififii, 
 urns, ashes, and coins. In the common burial- 
 place of Walcot parish, which we pass, in this 
 excursion from Bath, a little to the eastward of 
 the church, many funeral urns have at different 
 times been turned up' in digging graves for the 
 deceased of these days, which prove, beyond a 
 doubt, that the same spot was used for the same 
 purposes seventeen hundred years ago. 
 
 The noble line of edifices, called Grosvenor- 
 buildings, ranging themselves to the right of 
 the road, and forming the north-eastern extre- 
 mity to the elegant city of Bath, afford a stri- 
 king warning to those who have the mania of 
 building upon them, to resist so destructive a 
 propensity • and not to extend their specula- 
 tions beyond the population of the place where 
 they commence them. To build houses and 
 lay out streets may be easily and speedily done, 
 but to find inhabitants to fill them afterwards, 
 
 o 
 
[ m ] 
 
 is a process of more trouble and time. A city 
 or town has seldom such-a superfluity of people, 
 as to be able to spare tenants for any consider- 
 able addition of houses, and as to new settlers, 
 they come individually and accidentally, and 
 consequently cannot be looked up to by the 
 builder as a sufficient dependence for the return 
 of that money which he has expended on his 
 speculation. 
 
 Our road passes through the villages of Bath- 
 easton and Bathford, ancient dependencies on 
 the monastery of the neighbouring city, having 
 to the right the river Avon flowing through 
 rich meadows, and bounded by that belt of hills 
 which defend the happy vale of Bath from the 
 storms of the south and east. But as we pro- 
 ceed and climb the lofty hill of Haselbury, on 
 the further side of Box, the view becomes more 
 wide and diversified. Bath is now removed 
 into the distance, and appears at the termina- 
 tion of the winding valley, u uncertain if be- 
 held;" an indistin£iness that cloaths it with 
 great majesty, as its crescents and higher streets 
 blend into only one building, and give the idea 
 of a solitary castellated edifice, of unlimited 
 dimensions. On entering Pickwick, we turn 
 
C 195 ] 
 
 to the right, and at the distance of a mile enter 
 Corsham, a village which in former times was 
 made part of the dower of the queens of Eng- 
 land, at the time when it was customary to 
 settle on the royal consort part of the demesnes 
 of the crown, for providing hef with various 
 articles of her attire, and other necessaries 
 for her person and situation. To the faithful 
 companion of Edward I. Corsham, together 
 with Bath, were given in dower; and though 
 the latter was shortly afterwards resumed, and 
 bestowed upon Robert Burnell Bishop of Bath 
 and Wells, yet the former seems to have con- 
 tinued its services to this amiable princess as 
 long as she lived. The Earls of Cornwall, in 
 subsequent times, claimed it as a part of their 
 extensive fiefs. Afterwards, the heroes of the 
 Hungerford family became possessed of the 
 village and manor, and made Corsham one of 
 their residences. The latter at length vested 
 in the Methuens, and is at present possessed 
 by their lineal descendant Paul Methuen, esq. 
 The mansion of this gentleman, containing one 
 of the richest colleftions of pi£tures in the king- 
 dom, is situated towards the eastern extremity 
 of the park, which, though neither grand nor 
 extensive, consisting entirely of level ground, af- 
 
fords some fine views, and a frequent recurrence 
 of the pleasing scenery, which brings to mind 
 the landscape of Poussin. The house, till within 
 these three or four years, presented three fronts 
 — the northern, the eastern, and the southern $ 
 which, though built at different periods, had, 
 all of them, some general resemblance of the 
 Gothic chara&er, which its respeftive archite&s 
 had preserved in their additions and alterations. 
 At present the old northern front is no more, 
 and upon its ruins have arisen one of the 
 proudest and best-built specimens of modern 
 Gothic that the kingdom can produce, the de- 
 sign and execution of Mr. Nash, architect. It 
 consists of three rooms, a dining-room to the 
 west, a music-room at the opposite extremity, 
 and in the centre a lofty oStagon apartment, 
 rising above its lateral companions. This is 
 supported without by flying buttresses, which 
 give a surprising richness and grandeur to the 
 plan. All these apartments are intended to 
 ^finished and fitted up in the highest style of 
 modern taste ; the music-room will exhibit 
 a particularly beautiful specimen of grand de- 
 sign, being coved, and lighted by oval win- 
 dows disposed in the coving, and glazed w T ith 
 coloured glass. At present the chief en- 
 
[ 197 ] 
 
 trance is on the south, by an approach through 
 an avenue as wide as the front, formed by two 
 lofty clipped hedges, imbedded in which are 
 bad vases and tasteless statues, extremely in- 
 congruous to the Gothic edifice, that terminates 
 the avenue. If we might venture to suggest 
 any alterations in this part, they would be, to 
 1 rout out these bad imitations of classical sculp- 
 ture from their leafy retreats, and to pull down 
 the stables and offices which intrude themselves 
 upon the eye, immediately in front of the house, 
 without the gate of the avenue. 
 
 The apartment now constructing for the re- 
 ception of the pi&ures is a room new in de- 
 sign and graTid in its effeft. It measures one 
 hundred and six feet in length, to which the 
 proportions of its height and breadth are hap- 
 pily adjusted. A light gallery, supported by 
 slender clustered shafts, with plain bases and 
 capitals, runs round the sides of the room, and 
 is ascended' at each end by a double flight of 
 steps — one sweeping to the right, the other to 
 the left, and both uniting at the top. Rich 
 Gothic ornaments decorate its groined roof, 
 and with an unusual association, unite great 
 majesty with airy elegance. Destined to re- 
 ceive Mr. Methuen's valuable paintings, this 
 
[ 198 ] 
 
 sumptuous apartment is preparing with all ex- 
 pedition for that purpose. As its intended fur- 
 niture is at present lying in disorder and irregu- 
 larity, scattered through the different rooms 
 of the lower part of the house, they cannot, of 
 course, be seen to advantage; a slight mention, 
 therefore, of the most capital pieces, as they oc- 
 cur in their present situation, must content you. 
 
 We begin with the octagon-room, in which are 
 the following choice works, 
 
 Head of Christ, by L. Carracci.- — The Co- 
 rinthian making ^ his will, by N* Poussin.— A 
 Boy blowing bubbles ; very fine, by Hannibal 
 Carracci. — Angel and Child, by Carlo Dolce. — 
 Dead Christ, by Teniers, copied from Bourdon. 
 
 In the adjoining bed-room, amongst many- 
 others, is a large and most capital picture of 
 Hounds and Foxes, by Sneyders. 
 
 In the drawing-room are, 
 
 A Head, by Corregio. — Virgin and Child, 
 by Murillo. — St. Augustine's Ext&cy, clair ob+ 
 scur, by Vandyke. -—Lot and his Daughters, by 
 Lolli. — Landscape, by Claude Lorraine. — 
 Christ blessing Bread, by Carlo Dolce. — Head 
 of Christ, by Peruoneno— Crucifixion, by Tin- 
 toret — Landscape, by G. iroussin. 
 
[ 199 ] 
 
 Christ and Woman of Samaria, by Guercino. 
 The head of Christ is touched in a most masterly 
 manner; and that of the woman exhibits an 
 expression of sweetness and placidity peculiarly 
 interesting. It is generally supposed to be a 
 portrait of the favourite female of Guercino; 
 and what strengthens the suspicion is, that he 
 has introduced the same head into some of hi§ 
 other capital pictures, particularly that of Hagar's 
 banishment by Abraham; where this striking- 
 countenance, full of the most amiable expres- 
 sion, occurs in the person of the unkindly-treated 
 hind-maid.* 
 
 A Portrait, by Quintin Matsis, of Antwerp, 
 the far-famed blacksmith painter; whose pon- 
 derous hammer was converted into an artist's 
 pencil, in order to obtain the objeft of his affec- 
 tions. But though he succeeded with his mis- 
 tress, he wooed the imitative art in vain; for 
 the coarse and heavy hand of the blacksmith, 
 evident in all his works, manifests that he never 
 attained to excellence as a painter. 
 
 * An admirable study of this excellent picture may be seen 
 at Mr. Solomon Williams', of Bath, (historical and portrait 
 painter, and member of ^he Clementine Academy:) An artist 
 who, by an attentive and long study of the best works in Italy, 
 has caught no small portion of the conception and execution 
 pf some of its first masters. 
 
[ 200 ] 
 
 A Saint, by Carlo Dolce. 
 
 Sir Brian Tuke, by Holbein. He was trea- 
 surer of the chambers to Henry VIII. — Holy 
 Family, by Parmegiano.— Landscape and Storm, 
 by N. Poussin. One regrets that in so fine 
 a pifture some of the figures should be dis- 
 proportionably large, — Christ and Nicodemus, 
 by Guercino. — Virgin and Child, by Raphael, 
 in his first manner; exquisite softness in the 
 countenance of the virgin, and a divine inno- 
 cence in that of the child. — Taking Christ from 
 the Cross, by Rubens. — Holy Family, by P. Ve- 
 ronese ; the man in armour is said to be the artist 
 himself. — -Portrait of a Woman, by Mabuse, 
 
 In the large saloon* called the Jiitture-gallery, 
 a magnificent apartment, " clara micante auro, 
 fiammasque imitante fiyro/io" are as follow: 
 
 David and Abigail, by Rubens. — Landscape, 
 by Claude. — Tancred and Arminia, by Peter 
 de Cortona. — Charity, by Vandyke, 
 
 Ludowick first Duke of Richmond and Lenox * 
 whole length, by Vandyke; lord great cham- 
 berlain, and admiral, of Scotland; son to Esme 
 Stuart Duke of Lenox, and grandson to John 
 Lord De Aubigne, great-uncle to James I. With 
 that monarch Ludowick had considerable influ- 
 ence, and, unlike many of the favourites of the 
 
[ 20! ] 
 
 " minion-kissing king," seems to have well de- 
 served the honours which were conferred upon 
 him by the futile monarch; the earldom of 
 Newcastle, and dukedom of Richmond. He 
 died siiddenly in 1623. 
 
 Silenus and groupe, clair obscur, by Rubens. — - 
 The Treachery of Judas, and seizing of Christ, 
 a noble large pi&ure, by Vandyke. — Marriage 
 of St. Catherine, by Guercino. 
 
 Three Children, by Mabuse. Arthur, Henry, 
 and Margaret, two sons and a daughter of Henry 
 VII. The first died in the seventeenth year of 
 his age ; the second succeeded to the throne ; 
 and the third became Queen of Scotland. Ma- 
 buse came to England in the end of Henry 
 Vllth's reign, and continued here a short time. 
 Mabuse is more famous for clearness of colour- 
 ing, and high finishing, than cjelicacy, freedom, 
 or softness; but he makes up for stiffness by 
 powerful likeness. 
 
 Wolf and Fox hunting, by Rubens ; in which 
 are introduced the portraits of himself and 
 family. — Holy Family, by Old Palma. — Baptism 
 of Christ, by Lanfranc. — Head, by Guercino ; 
 the powerful light and shade of this pifture 
 evince, that it was painted by the artist, as was 
 a frequent pra£Hce with him, by candle-light. 
 
C ] 
 
 — Plague of Bologna, and Saints praying to the 
 Virgin, by Guido. — Dead Christ, by H. Car- 
 racci. — David and Coliah's head, by L. Spada. 
 — Destru&ion of Innocents, by Vandyke. — Our 
 Saviour at the Pharisee's house, by Carlo Dolce. 
 < — Allegorical Painting, emblematical of theVir- 
 tues, by Titian. — Inside of a Church, by Sten- 
 wyck.— Head of a Rabbi, by Rembrandt. 
 
 Large Landscape ; and Baptism of the Ethio- 
 pian Eunuch; by John Both : the latter is remark- 
 able for warmth of colouring, and may be reck- 
 oned one of the best pictures in the colletlion. 
 
 Lewis Prince Palatine > by Vandyke ; grandson 
 of James I. by Elizabeth (his daughter) Queen 
 of Bohemia, and wife of the Eledor Frederick. 
 
 Killegrew, by Dobson, an artist called by 
 King Charles I. the English Tintoret. Thomas 
 Killegrew was the facetious droll of the licen- 
 tious court of Charles II.; he had been page 
 of honour to, Charles I. and continuing at- 
 tached to the fortunes of his family, was made 
 gentleman of the royal bed-chamber by his son ; 
 who conferred on him the further honour of 
 the envoyship at Venice. Killegrew, indeed, 
 seems to have deserved the confidence of his 
 master, as he more than once recalled him, by 
 well-timed buffoonery, from- measures and con- 
 
[ 203 ] 
 
 dufr as disgraceful as dangerous. Amongst 
 other anecdotes of him, it is said, that percei- 
 ving Charles to be too much engaged with his 
 mistresses, and too little with his counsellors, 
 he habited himself in the weeds of a pilgrim, 
 and proceeding to the king's chamber, told 
 him he had renounced the world, and was go- 
 ing on a pilgrimage to hell. " What wilt thou 
 " do there ?" said the Monarch. c I will desire 
 ' the_devil,' replied Killegrew, c to send Oliver 
 c Cromwell back again to England, to take 
 6 charge of the government ; as your Majesty 
 c must be aware, that your own time is too 
 '* much employed by this amusement, to attend 
 c to such business/ 
 
 Last Supper, by Tintoret. — Pilgrim's Head, 
 by Guercino. — Fair at Mexico, a most curious 
 pifture, by Murillo., 
 
 In the library is a good portrait of 
 Sir Charles Lucas , cc who, for his signal loyalty 
 " and bravery during the civil wars, and gal- 
 " lant defence of Colchester, was cruelly shot 
 " to death, Aug. 28, 1648. He was uncle of 
 u Charles Lord Lucas, the father of Mrs. Carye 
 cc and Mr. Selfe." Lucas defended Colchester 
 for three months, when the ammunition of the 
 garrison being reduced to one barrel and a half. 
 
[ 2*04 j 
 
 of powder, and the provision to two horses and 
 a dog, he surrendered to Fairfax 3 who, pro- 
 voked at the gallantry of this hero, ordered 
 him, and his friend Sir George Lisle, to be shot 
 on the very day the Parliamentarian army en- 
 tered the town. 
 
 Three miles from Corsham-house is Laycock 
 Abbey, the seat of the Dowager Lady Shrews- 
 bury, situated at the eastern extremity of a vil- 
 lage of the same name. The mansion and its 
 adjun&s, from the entrance gate, form a very 
 pleasing pi&ure: a Gothic building, with an 
 irregular but elegant front, situated in a wide 
 and fertile flat, sprinkled with venerable trees, 
 through which winds the Avon, yet an infant 
 stream, leading its humble waters (to the right 
 of the house) under a small old stone bridge 
 with pointed arches; the whole backed by dis- 
 tant hills, richly wooded. 
 
 On passing on to the house, however, an or- 
 nament occurs, close to the road on the left, 
 which assimilates but badly with the Gothic 
 costume of every thing around; two splendid 
 classical pillars, of the Corinthian order, sup- 
 porting on their entablature a very finely carved 
 Sphynx ; the whole forming a choice specimen 
 
[ 205 ] 
 
 of masonry, and only to be obje&ed against, 
 because it is injudiciously placed, Formerly a 
 nunnery, founded by Ela Countess of Salisbury 
 in 1242, Laycock Abbey still preserves, almost 
 entire, several members of the original building, 
 such as its north and east fronts, and a qua- 
 drangle and cloister, in perfect preservation; 
 in the latter of which, under a slab, are said to 
 be deposited the remains of the foundress. The 
 dormitory also is shewn; such a wretched bole 
 as fully justified the fair nun in her attempt to 
 escape (according to the tradition in the family) 
 from a place, where even fatigue could not find 
 a comfortable place to repose its weary head in, 
 and lessens our wonder at the desperate leap 
 which she took from the parapet to the grass- 
 plot below. The dwelling-rooms are neither 
 elegant, nor curious in their contents, except 
 that a few portraits, scattered through them, 
 bring b ac lc recolledtion to the ancient renown 
 of the Talbot family. 
 
 In the [liEiiire gallery are, 
 
 Henry VII. and Elizabeth, his queen ; by his 
 marriage with whom he united the houses of 
 York and Lancaster, and terminated the ru- 
 inous jarrings which had subsisted so long be- 
 tween them. 
 
[ 206 | 
 
 Sir Gilbert Talbot, 1516, third son of John 
 the second Earl of Shrewsbury. In early life 
 he followed mercantile employments, being a 
 mercer of London,, and merchant of the staple 
 at Calais \ but afterwards attached himself to a 
 military life, and commanded the right wing of 
 the Earl of Richmond's army at the battle of 
 Bosw'orth. High in the favour of Henry VII. 
 he was, sent by him to the assistance of the 
 Emperor Maximilian, and afterwards as ambas- 
 sador to Rome ; and finally honoured with the 
 Order of the Garter. He died Sept. 19, 1516. 
 
 Sir Harry Slingsby, a steady adherent to 
 Charles!.; for whose service he raised a body 
 of six hundred horse at his own expence, and 
 joined the royal army. Having served his un- 
 fortunate master with the utmost gallantry and 
 activity till his decapitation, he was equally 
 faithful to his son ; but being at length taken 
 prisoner, he was confined at Hull 5 where being 
 convifted of tampering with some of the officers 
 to deliver up that garrison to the king's forces, 
 he was tried and beheaded June 8, 1658. 
 
 Gilbert Talbot, son of George Talbot; an ad- 
 mirable old portrait. 
 
 Olivia, daughter of William Sharington, and 
 wife of John Talbot, esq; 1580, setat 50. By* 
 
[ 207 ] 
 
 this lady Laycock Abbey came into the Talbot 
 family, she being the grand-daughter of Sir 
 Henry Sharington, who received a grant of 
 this religious house, and its demesne, from 
 Henry VIII. 
 
 In the dining-room are, 
 
 Charles I. by Vandyke. — Henry VIII. said to 
 be an original. 
 
 Over the fire-place, a large allegorical paint- 
 ing, probably by Dominichino ; containing a 
 groupe of emblematical figures, intended to 
 represent the different arts and sciences. Like 
 all other allegorical pictures, it is obje£lionable 
 because difficult to be understood ; for as Lord 
 Orford well observes, <c you must be a natural 
 " philosopher, before you can decypher the vo- 
 cation of one of their simplified divinities ; 
 cc their dog, or their bird, or their goat, or their 
 " implement, or the colour of their cloaths, 
 " must all be expounded before you know who 
 " the person is to whom they belong, and for 
 f f what virtue the hero is to be celebrated who 
 " lias all this hyeroglyphic cattle around him. 1 ' 
 But of all the apartments in the house the 
 hall is the most noble, and best worth attention ; 
 majestic in dimensions, just in its proportions, 
 and curious in its decorations. These consist 
 
[ 208 ] 
 
 of various figures in terra cotta, moulded with 
 most exquisite art, and fixed in little Gothic 
 niches formed in the walls of the side and ends. 
 Whimsical, indeed, is the association discovered 
 here of saints and emperors, apostles and 
 poets, nuns and warriors; heads of kings, and 
 heads of bulls ; skeletons, figures without arms, 
 &c. all executed with infinite spirit, and leading 
 one to conclude, that the artist, with the utmost 
 wildness of imagination, must have possessed 
 the complete mastery of his business. I could 
 not learn his name, but France had the honour 
 of numbering him among her ingenious sons. 
 
 In our way to Bowood, the seat of the Mar- 
 quis of Lansdown, we leave on our right-hand 
 Spy-Park, Sir Edward Bayntun's house, remark- 
 able for having been the residence of the great- 
 est wit, the greatest profligate, and the greatest 
 penitent, of the seventeenth century — the Earl 
 of Rochester; a wit, however, that like an 
 ignis fatans, only hovered over bogs and fens, 
 and played off its coruscations but to draw the 
 unwary into destruction. He made mankind, 
 at last, all the recompence in his power, by 
 leaving behind him an awful example of that 
 remorse and agony, which they must sooner or 
 
[ 209 ] 
 
 later suffer, who have employed their talents 
 to invalidate the obligations of piety; to encou- 
 rage the inordinances of passion 5 to decoy their 
 brother into the broad path of eternal misery; - 
 and to laugh him out of his dread of sin and 
 his love of virtue. An admirable situation has 
 been chosen for the house, which stands to- 
 wards the south-western extremity of the park ? 
 and is an ancient building, with the principal 
 front fitted up in a modern taste. The distant 
 prospeft from it is extensive and magnificent; 
 but the home view has been considerably in- 
 jured by the havock made lately amongst its 
 woods. A superstitious regard for these beau- 
 tiful natural ornaments of his grounds prevented 
 the late owner from ever suffering the axe to 
 approach them; his successor, however, does 
 not appear to feel the influence of this ve- 
 neration, since the destroying angel has been 
 commissioned to deal an undistinguishing de- 
 struction thro' the woods of Spy-park, and the de- 
 mesne is now nearly as hare as Salisbury-plain. 
 
 Very different from this desolating system 
 is that which the noble owner of Bowood has 
 pursued in laying out the park of that mansion. 
 Here the bounty of Nature is most happily 
 aided by the hand of Art, directed by the chaste 
 
[ 210 ] 
 
 taste of the Marquis, under whose order every 
 tree has been planted, every walk disposed, and 
 every ornament introduced. At first, -indeed, 
 his lordship, with too much diffidence in the 
 comprehensiveness of his own mind, and the 
 universality of his own powers, was induced to 
 employ Mr. Brown in the disposition of the 
 pleasure-grounds at Bowood; but after the ex- 
 penditure of considerable sums, he found it 
 necessary to undo whatever had been done; for 
 instead of the great and the sublime, all was 
 little and insignificant. In the room of the 
 grand road which now encircles the grounds, 
 and imitates the wide sweeps of untamed na- 
 ture, the artist had introduced a serpentine walk; 
 a hint caught originally from the unsteady steps 
 of a drunken man, or intended, by a contemp- 
 tible imposition upon the mind, to give the ap- 
 pearance of greater extension (by leading the 
 weary feet through the obliquities of a zig-zag) 
 in spots where more freedom is precluded by 
 confined limits. All this littleness, however, was 
 soon banished from the grounds of Bowood, 
 when his lordship, aided by the superlative 
 taste of Mr. Hamilton, of Pains-Hill, began 
 his operations. From that time, variety, sim- 
 plicity, and grandeur, have characterised thia 
 
[ w ] 
 
 spot ; the first produced by the singular in- 
 equality of the grounds, which fall into nine 
 depressions, each marked with different fea- 
 tures, and possessing its little sacred and dis- 
 tinct stream ; the last arising from the judicious 
 improvements of his lordship, which have been 
 chiefly confined to cloathing well-chosen spots 
 with plantations; avoiding all meretricious de- 
 coration, in order to preserve that agreeable air 
 of chastened wildness, which Nature displays 
 when she chooses to appear in all her charms. 
 
 The only ornaments are, a mausoleum, ereCted 
 for the reception of the remains of the late Earl 
 of Shelburne, which pushes its summit from the 
 mass of wood rising to the west; some seats, 
 after a classical plan taken at Herculaneum, 
 very appropriate here, as several notices have 
 occurred to evince the presence of the Romans 
 in Bowood park; and a mass of rock work, de- 
 signed by Mr. Lane, who exhibited the earliest 
 specimen of his talents in the construction of a 
 grotto, on a very small scale, at Fonthill. The 
 stru&ure was formed of tumblers found near the 
 spot; and though a little objeftionable at first 
 from a formality in its execution, it is now so 
 broken and relieved by planting, as to afford a 
 pi£luresque obje6t to the eye. 
 
t 212 ] 
 
 The rides and walks are broad and open, let- 
 ting in views of the distant country, which 
 offers many grand and beautiful features, such 
 as the rich country of North-Wiltshire, Round- 
 away-Hill, Oldbury-Castle, and the various 
 nameless elevations of Glocestershire on the 
 right, and Somerset on the left. In short, when 
 we compare the grounds of Bowood as they 
 now are, with what they were when laid out 
 by Bridgeman, the famous gardener, one hun- 
 dred and fifty years ago, and which they con- 
 tinued to be till they came into the possession 
 of the present Marquis, (a comparison we are 
 enabled to make by an ancient plan of them 
 preserved in the house) we shall be content to 
 allow, that no small degree of admiration is due 
 to that plastic hand, which, with a sort of 
 magical power, could convert the formality of 
 ancient horticulture into the simplicity of modern 
 gardening, turn matted copses into open plan- 
 tations, and exchange stag-headed pollards for 
 magnificent trees. 
 
 Bowood-hoiise claims no particular attention 
 for the splendour of its architefture or the ex- 
 tent of its design 5 the body of it is only eighty 
 feet in front, but to this were added, by the late 
 lord, at sixty feet distance, two courts and 
 
[ 213 ] 
 
 offices, three hundred feet in front, which the 
 present possessor afterwards connefted with 
 the main building by a colonnade, from a plan 
 of a similar member of Dioclesian's vast pa- 
 lace at Spalatro in Dalmatia. In the interior, 
 convenience has been chiefly studied; the rooms 
 being so judiciously arranged as to leave the 
 body of the house entirely free for the reception 
 of guests. The family apartments are thus 
 completely distintl from the other, and their 
 inmates enabled to enjoy that independence 
 which is too frequently found to be sacrificed 
 in the accommodation of visitors at other 
 places. The style of living at Bowood evinces 
 that old English hospitality is not incompati- 
 ble with modern elegance -> since, if the draw- 
 ing-room display the latter above-stairs, the 
 servants'-hall affords a good specimen of the 
 former below; a public regale of beef and ale 
 being .given every Sunday to the tenants and 
 farmers. In no other house in England do 
 foreigners find their reception so cordial, and 
 so agreeable, as at the Marquis of Lansdown's ; 
 and the affability of the noble host, united with 
 the intelleftual entertainment which a constant 
 literary circle affords to the guest, have induced 
 more than one illustrious emigrant to acknow- 
 
t 314 ] 
 
 ledge, that ' the pains of memory' have been- 
 suspended, and the sufferings of exile forgotten, 
 during the hours they have passed in this Tus- 
 culan retreat of taste and science. 
 
 The contents of the library would be worthy 
 particular mention, if belonging to any other 
 person than the proprietor of that unrivalled 
 colle£iion at Lansdown-House, who considers 
 the library at Bowood only as the receptacle of 
 duplicates, and the numerous volumes of prints 
 there as mere drogues. In the same room is 
 the portrait of 
 
 Sir William Petty , by Closterman; one of 
 those comma nding geniusses (the produ&ion 
 of Nature in her happiest moments) who rise 
 superior to the disadvantages of situation, and 
 (to use an expression of the charafter before 
 us) " hew out their fortunes for themselves," 
 without any other aid than their own native 
 energies of mind. At the early age of fifteen 
 Petty had travelled through the whole round of 
 science, and made himself master of all the 
 abstruser branches of human knowledge. He 
 chose physic for his profession, by which he at- 
 tained honour, celebrity, and riches ; but shone 
 more particularly in the line of political arith- 
 metic and general (Economics. His essays on 
 
[ 215 1 
 
 these subje£ts will ever remain glorious monu- 
 ments of the beneficial purposes to which he 
 applied the powers of his gigantic mind. He 
 died Dec* 16, 1687. 
 
 In the anti- chamber are, 
 
 Oliver Cromwell, by Walker; this portrait was 
 heretofore in the collection of his present Ma* 
 jesty ; given by him to Dalton, the late librarian, 
 and afterwards purchased at his sale. John- , 
 son has observed of Burke, " that if you met 
 " him for the first time in a street, when you 
 " were stopped by a drove of oxen, and you 
 " and he stepped aside but for a few minutes, 
 " he'd talk to you in such a manner, that when 
 " you parted, you would say, this is an extraor- 
 u dinary man." An original portrait of Crom- 
 well impresses the mind with a similar ideaj 
 we discern a cast of countenance that evinces 
 deep penetration, acute sagacity, unconquer- 
 ble resolution, and inflexible perseverance $ 
 darkened at the same time with dissimulation, 
 and scowling with cruelty. We acknowledge 
 a mingled chara&er, one of those associatipns 5 N 
 which, fortunately for human society, occur but 
 seldom — of stupendous natural talent with 
 equal mental deformity. 
 
[ 216 ] 
 
 Dean Swift, a Full length, by Jarvis; ill- 
 natured in his satire, petulent in his politics, 
 and indecent in his wit. A writer whose works 
 (though they exhibit constant examples of a 
 powerful fancy, and comprehensive knowledge) 
 are not calculated either to give confidence to 
 virtue, or corroboration to morality. 
 
 Sir Isaac Newton, so called, but doubtful. The 
 sublime intelleft of this great man, which 
 seemed to catch a light beyond the reach of 
 humanity, is happily indicated in the following 
 celebrated lines: — 
 
 cc Nature, and Nature's laws, Jay hid in night: 
 **■ God said, ' Let Newton be V and all was light." 
 
 The ceiling and pannels of the drawing-room 
 are painted by Cipriani, which are further 
 adorned with, 
 
 A Sea Beach, the joint work of three great 
 modern artists — Barrett, S. Gilpin, and Cipri- 
 ani; in which each seems to have endeavoured 
 to excel the other. The landscape is by the 
 first, the cattle by the second, and the figures 
 by the third. 
 
 Sea Piece, by Pococke. — A brilliant Land- 
 scape, by Gainsborough. — A Sunset, by Deane.. 
 — Landscape, by Wilson.-— Two Landscapes, 
 
C 217 ] 
 
 by Zuccarelli. — Fall of Tivoli, by Julien. — St. 
 George and Dragon, copy from Guido. 
 
 The cube-room contains, 
 
 Sophia Lady Granville > whole length, daughter 
 of the nobleman represented in the next por- 
 trait, viz. 
 
 Thomas first Earl of Pomfret, half-length ; 
 he married 
 
 Henrietta Lousia, (half length) daughter of John 
 Lord Jefferies, who purchased the Arundel 
 marbles, and afterwards presented them to the 
 University of Oxford. 
 
 Family Piece, consisting of John Lord Jef- 
 feries, <(son of the infamous Judge) his wife, son, 
 and daughter. This nobleman, a fashionable 
 profligate, is on record only for his vice and 
 worthlessness. The following anecdote of a 
 drunken frolic, at the funeral of Dryden, in 
 which he made a conspicuous figure, will at 
 once evince his want of decency and sense: 
 
 " Mr. Dryden dying on the W ednesday morn- 
 * ing, Dr. Thomas Sprat, then Bishop of Ro~ 
 " Chester and Dean of Westminster, sent the 
 " next day to the Lady Elizabeth Howard, Mr, 
 6< Dryden's widow, that he would make a pre- 
 " sent of the ground, which was forty pounds, 
 Ci with all the other abbey-fees. Th^ Lord 
 
[ 218 ] 
 
 " Halifax lik'ewise sent to the Lady Elizabeth, 
 " and Mr. Charles Dryden, her son, that if they 
 " would give him leave to bury Mr. Dryden, he 
 " would inter him with a gentleman's private 
 " funeral, and afterwards bestow five hundred 
 u pounds on a monument in the abbey; which, 
 " as they had no reason to refuse, they accepted. 
 " On the Saturday following the company came, 
 ** the corpse was put into a velvet hearse, and 
 " eighteen mourning coaches, filled with com- 
 " pany, attended. When they were just ready 
 " to move, the Lord Jefferies, son of the Lord 
 cf Chancellor Jefferies, with some of his rakish 
 " companions, coming by, asked whose funeral 
 '"it was: and being told Mr. Dryden's, he 
 " said, < What, shall Dryden, the greatest ho- 
 ' nour and ornament of the nation, be buried^ 
 c after this private manner! No, gentlemen, let 
 c all that loved Mr. Dryden, and honour his 
 c memory, alight and join with me in gaining 
 c my lady's consent to let me have the honour 
 ' of his interment, which shall be after another 
 * manner than this ; and I will bestow a thou-. 
 € sand pounds on a monument in the abbey for 
 c him.' The gentlemen in the coaches, not 
 " knowing of the Bishop of Rochester's favour, 
 " nor of the Lord Halifax's generous design, 
 
r C 219 j 
 
 c€ (they both having, out of respe£t to the family, 
 5 * enjoined the Lady Elizabeth, and her son, to 
 " keep their favour concealed to the world, and 
 " let it pass for their own expence) readily came 
 " out of their coaches, and attended Lord Jef- 
 cc feries up to the lady's bedside, who was then 
 " sick. He repeated the purport of what he 
 cc had before said ; but she absolutely refusing, 
 " he fell on his knees, vowing never to rise till 
 " his request was granted. The rest of the 
 U company, by his desire, kneeled also; and the 
 " lady, being under a sudden surprise, fainted 
 " away. As soon as she recovered her speech, 
 " she cried, No, no. 6 Enough, gentlemen/ re- 
 plied he, c my lady is very good, she says, 
 6 Go, go. 9 She repeated her former words with 
 " all her strength, but in vain, for her feeble 
 " voice was lost in their acclamations of joy; 
 " and the Lord JefFeries ordered the hearseman 
 €C to carry the corpse to Mr. Russel's, an under- 
 " taker in Cheapside, and leave it there till he 
 " should send orders for the embalment, which, 
 u he added, should be after the royal manner. 
 " His dire&ions were obeyed, the company 
 cc dispersed, and Lady Elizabeth and her son 
 u remained inconsolable. The next day Mr. 
 " Charles Dryden waited on the Lord Halifax 
 
[ 220 ] 
 
 fC and the Bishop, to excuse his mother and him- 
 " self, by relating the real truth. But neither 
 " his Lordship nor the Bishop would admit of 
 " any plea, especially the latter, who had the 
 " abbey lighted, the ground opened, the choir 
 " attending, an anthem ready set, and himself 
 " waiting for some time without any corpse to 
 " bury. The undertaker, after three days ex- 
 " peftance of orders for embalment without 
 " receiving any, waited on the Lord JefFeries;- 
 " who, pretending ignorance of the matter, 
 " turned it off with an ill-natured jest, saying, 
 H that those who observed the orders of a 
 " drunken frolic deserved no better; that he 
 " remembered nothing at all of it; and that he 
 " might do what he pleased with the corpse. 
 |fi Upon this, the undertaker waited upon the 
 " Lady Elizabeth and her son, and threatened 
 " to bring the corpse home, and set it before 
 " the door. They desired a day's respite, which 
 " was granted. Mr. Charles Dryden wrote a 
 " handsome letter to the Lord Jefferies, who 
 " returned it with this cool answer:—' That he 
 ? knew nothing of the matter, and would be 
 € troubled no more about it.' He then ad- 
 <c dressed the Lord Halifax and the Bishop of 
 " Rochester, who absolutely refused to do any 
 
[ 221 ] 
 
 "thing in it. In this distress Dr. Garth sent 
 " for the corpse to the College of Physicians, 
 u and proposed a .funeral by subscription, to 
 <c which himself set a most noble example. At 
 " last a day, about three weeks after Mr. Dry- 
 " den's decease, was appointed for the inter- 
 " ment. Dr. Garth pronounced a fine Latin ora- 
 " tion, at the college, over the corpse; which 
 " was attended to the abbey by a numerous 
 " train of coaches. When the funeral was 
 " over, Mr. Charles Dryden sent a challenge to 
 " the Lord Jefferies, who refusing to answer it, 
 " he sent several others, and went often him- 
 " self; but could neither get a letter delivered, 
 " nor admittance to speak to him; which so 
 " incensed him, that he resolved, since his 
 " Lordship refused to answer him like a gen- 
 " tleman, that he would watch an opportunity 
 " to meet, and fight off-hand, though with all 
 "the rules of honour; which his Lordship 
 " hearing, left the town; and Mr. C. Dryden 
 " could never have the satisfaction of meeting 
 M him, though he sought it till his death, with 
 " the utmost application. " 
 
 Georgiana Carolina Lady Cowfier, grandmother 
 of the present Earl Spencer. 
 
 Frances Marchioness Tweedale, her sister. 
 
[ 222 ] 
 
 John Earl o/Grenville, when young, with a gun, 
 
 Ann, daughter and heiress of Sir W. Petty, 
 and wife of Thomas Lord Kerry, three-quarters, 
 
 Gertrude, late Duchess of Bedford ; a beau- 
 tiful head. 
 
 The statesman's chamber contains, 
 
 John Earl of Granville, president of the coun- 
 cil in 1 75 1. — John Lord- Berkely, of Stratton, 
 treasurer o the Household 1755. 
 
 Sir Robert Walpole; who gave this portrait of 
 himself to his disappointed candidate at the 
 Chippenham contest, the ill success of which 
 occasioned the downfall of this great political 
 character. The countenance is smiling, seem- 
 ingly at the credulity of mankind. An obser- 
 vation has been attributed to him, but pow- 
 erfully disclaimed by his son, " that every man 
 had his price." Whether he ever made such 
 a declaration may be doubtful; but that he 
 thought so, may be fairly inferred from view- 
 ing this pifture. 
 
 Lord Chatham, great, wise, good, and patri- 
 otic ; who died, as he lived, the eloquent advo- 
 cate of constitutional liberty. 
 
 Dunning Lord Ashburton, one of the many 
 proteges of the noble Marquis; who has the ho- 
 nour and happiness of refle&ing, that whilst he 
 
[ 223 ] 
 
 was at the head of the Cabinet, he added but 
 one name to the list of Peers, that of Dunning; 
 a man that may be said rather to have graced 
 title, than to have been dignified by it. 
 
 In the small breakfast-room we find, 
 
 Henrietta Maria, a beautiful three-quarter 
 pi&ure, by Rubens. — Henry Danvers Earl of 
 Dauby, a whole length, by Vandyke; duplicates 
 were in the Wooburnand Houghton collections. 
 
 In the warrior s room are, 
 
 The present Duke of Brunswick. — Prince Fer- 
 dinand. — Count La Liftjie. — General Clarke. 
 
 General Washington, whose memory must al- 
 ways be embalmed in the recollection of every 
 friend of civil liberty. Never was the eulogium 
 of the poet more deservedly bestowed than that 
 which a bard of freedom, (Mr. Crowe, public 
 orator at Oxford) has applied to the assertor 
 of the rights of America. 
 
 cc Blest are they 
 " Who in life's toilsome journey may make pause 
 €e After a march of glory : yet not such 
 a As rise in causeless war > troubling the world 
 c< By their mad quarrel 5 and in fields of blood 
 cc Hail'd victors; thence renown'd, andcall'd on earth 
 " Kings, heroes, demigods; but in high heaven 
 <c Thieves, ruffians, murderers; these find no repose; 
 6( Then rather, patriot Conqueror, to thee 
 
[ 224 ] 
 
 u Belongs such rest $ who in the western world* 
 
 Thine own delivered country, for thyself 
 ie Hast planted an immortal grove and there, 
 u Upon the" glorious mount of liberty 
 *' Reposing, sit'st beneath the palmy shade." 
 
 Colonel Barre, when young. 
 In the billiard-room are, 
 
 Richard Mead, the celebrated physician ; re- 
 markable equally for his knowledge of medi- 
 cine, and valuable discoveries in that science, 
 his profound erudition, and intimate acquain- 
 tance with antiquarian subje&s. 
 
 Boerhaave, the famous Dutch physician, and 
 professor of medicine in the University of Ley- 
 den. His celebrity may be best conceived from 
 the fa£l of his receiving a foreign letter, with 
 this general address, "To Boerhaave, Europe." 
 
 Thomas Sydenham, an eminent English phy- 
 sician, who claims the merit of first adopting 
 the cool mode of treating patients in the small- 
 pox 5 by which the disorder was robbed of half 
 its former terrors. He also deserves the thanks 
 of mankind for rendering the use of laudanum 
 popular in acute diseases; and for introducing 
 the praftice of restoring the exhausted frame, 
 after debilitating disorders, by taking bark under 
 yarious forms. 
 
[ 225 ] 
 
 Theodore May erne, a copy from the original, by 
 Rubens, lately purchased by the Marquis of 
 Lansdown from the Besborough colle£lion 0 
 Mayerne was art eminent physician of the 
 seventeenth century, and had the honour of 
 being retained in that capacity by four kings, 
 Henry IV. of France, James I. of England, 
 and the two Charles'. He ranks amongst the 
 first physicians who nlade chemistry subservient 
 to the medical art. After having pra£iised with 
 great success and credit for several years; pub- 
 lished various books, amongst which was one of 
 culinary condiments; he died in 1655, of the ef- 
 fects of bad wine, drunk at a tavern ; and is said 
 to have predicted the exa£l time of his death 
 several days before it happened. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, on pannel, with all the splen- 
 dour of attire in which she is usually drawn. 
 
 James Duke of Monmouth. 
 
 Richard Gibson, usually called the dwarf, by 
 Sir Peter Lely. This little gentleman was 
 page of the back stairs to Charles I. who be- 
 stowed upon him a wife of proportionate height 
 to himself; an union which excited the wit of 
 Waller, displayed in some beautiful lines on 
 " the Marriage of the Dwarf; " amongst which 
 are the following: 
 
" Design or chance makes others wive, 
 
 * f But Nature did this match contrive 5 
 
 (C Eve might as well have Adam fled, 
 
 <c As she deny'd her little bed 
 
 <( To him, for whom Heaven seem'd to frame 
 
 (< And meafure out this only dame." 
 
 Gibson arrived to some excellence as a pain- 
 ter, following both the portrait and historical 
 branches. He studied under Sir Peter Lely y 
 and afterwards had the honour of instru&ing 
 the Princesses Mary and Anne, successively 
 queens of England, in his art. He died July 
 23, 1690. 
 
 Edmund Waller, the poet, .who first intro- 
 duced harmony into English versification ; nei- 
 ther was he deficient in force or fire, as his 
 famous panegyric on Cromwell sufficiently 
 evinces. As a popular speaker, also, he made a 
 considerable figure in the troublesome scenes of 
 the seventeenth century ; and is said to have 
 exhibited at an uncommon early age all the 
 requisites of a complete orator. 
 
 Frederick Prince ofWales> and his Princess; with 
 the Princesses of Hesse, of Orange, and Amelia \ a 
 conversation, in the manner of Hogarth ; a very 
 pleasing and interesting performance, through- 
 out which a strong family likeness may be 
 observed to prevail. 
 
[ 227 ] 
 
 Pursuing our route by a course somewhat 
 retrograde, we pass through Chippenham, a 
 town of Saxon antiquity, and deriving its name 
 from the large market which was held here as 
 early as the eighth century. At present, it 
 has no charms to detain the traveller from 
 Malmsbury, another town, about ten miles 
 distant 5 whose former fame not only lives in 
 legendary story, but may be traced in the ruins 
 of its monastery, which still remain. Geoffrey 
 of Monmouth, the strenuous assertor of British 
 antiquities, affirms, that both the town and its 
 celebrated abbey owe their origin to Molmu- 
 tius Dunvallo, a British monarch, some centu- 
 ries previous to the Christian asra. But as the 
 tales of Geoffrey are not now 7 considered as high 
 authority on this side the 'Severn, 'we must be 
 content to drop about a thousand years of the 
 age of the latter, and adopt Leland's more pro- 
 bable account, of its having been built by a 
 West Saxon king, about twelve hundred years 
 ago, at the solicitation of Maidulfihus, w 7 hose 
 name, somewna t corrupted and contra£ted, 
 and assuming the Saxon termination of burg 
 or bury, imposed upon the town' its present 
 appellation of Malmsbury. High in dignity, 
 for he was a mitred abbot, and sat in the House 
 
[ 228 ) 
 
 of Peers; and affluent in possessions, for the re- 
 venue of his monastery amounted to eight hun- 
 dred pounds per annum; the Abbot of Malms- 
 bury ranked next in importance to his brother 
 of Glastonbury in this part of England; and 
 entertained such a suite of honourable de- 
 pendants as would form a respeftable modern 
 court. All the arts and sciences of the times 
 were taught in his monastery; here Johannes 
 Scotus instru&ed the Saxon youth in the muddy 
 learning of the eighth century; and in the same 
 society, the Monk William, librarian and pre- 
 centor of the monastery, and surnamed of the 
 place where he lived, wrote his valuable histo- 
 rical work, the most able and authentic pro- 
 duction of the twelfth century. The august 
 remains, indeed, of the abbey, which strike 
 upon the eye before we reach the town, evince 
 that the establishment must have been magni- 
 ficent and extensive. They stand near the 
 edge of a high level, which drops suddenly into 
 a bottom, watered by a small rivulet, from 
 which the opposite bank' rises by a more gra- 
 dual ascent. The part still existing of the old 
 abbey is the greater portion of its cathedral, 
 which, ^ince the Reformation, has been con- 
 verted into a parochial church. Of this all 
 
[ 229 ] 
 
 the members testify considerable antiquity ; the 
 arches, pillars, and mouldings, exemplifying 
 that style denominated the Saxon; pure and un- 
 mixed with any later mode. The southern 
 entrance claims particular attention from the 
 peculiarity of its archite&ure, and the profusion 
 and singularity of its ornaments; it exhibits 
 two parts, a deep retiring arch, and a porch 
 beyond it. Of these, the former exhibits 
 eight mouldings, each about a foot in breadth, 
 and gradually contrasting their semicircles as 
 they recede from the outward o,ne. A waving 
 branch, with lateral tendrils, occupies the first 
 moulding; lozenges, overlaying each other, 
 cover the second; sculptural representations of 
 scripture history from the Old Testament, or- 
 nament the third; a repetition of the waving 
 branch and tendril is seen on the fourth; a con- 
 tinuation of the scripture histories fills the fifth ; 
 the lozenges as before, with tendrils interwoven, 
 the sixth; scripture histories the seventh; and 
 tendrils the eighth. The porch within this 
 complicated arch measures about fifteen feet 
 in length, over the sides of which are spread 
 small Saxon arches, surmounted by the figures 
 of the twelve Apostles, six on each side, with 
 an angel stretched over their heads. The 
 
[ 230 ] 
 
 portal which admits to the church, is formed of 
 three mouldings similar to those before de- 
 scribed. Within the building all is consonanj: 
 to the external members; the heavy round 
 pillars, with plain capitals, supporting three 
 tier of arches, the lowest and highest pointed, 
 and the centre one round, bespeak a very high 
 antiquity. Over the first tier on the southern 
 side, a little stone strufture projefits fro v m 
 the wall into the nave, resembling a covered 
 square balcony, with an opening or window 
 towards the body of the church, grated ap- 
 parently with iron bars. Various conjeftures 
 have been formed with respeft t;p the original 
 use of this additional stru£ture, for it is cer- 
 tainly not coeval with the cathedral ; but that 
 which considers it as a cage for the reception 
 ef culprits condemned to do public penance, 
 seems to come nearest to the truth. 
 
 A still greater curiosity w r ouldapiece of ma- 
 sonry be, (if the tradition told of it were authen- 
 tic) in a little chapel at the south-east corner of 
 the church. This is a cumbent figure, as large as 
 life, in royal robes, with a lion at his feet, and 
 a rich Gothic canopy at his head; the ciceroni 
 is strenuous in maintaining it to be the repre 7 
 sentation of King Athelstone, who was buried 
 
[ 231 ] 
 
 here; and, indeed, there is considerable re^ 
 semblance between it and the figure of that 
 monarch, on the reverse of his famous sea], of 
 .which I have seen a cast from the original in 
 the possession of the late Gustavus Brander, 
 r sq; but at the same time it must be confessed, 
 there are so many objections to the legitimacy 
 of the tradition, as at best to leave the mind in 
 a state of suspence. The altar-piece of the 
 present church is formed by a wall closing up 
 the great eastern arch of the nave, which, 
 with three more towards the other cardinal 
 points, supported the middle tower of this im- 
 mense building. The northern arch, now 
 without the church, is also perfeft to the pre- 
 sent day, and assumes a singular sweep inclin- 
 ing to the horse-shoe; the opposite hill, seen 
 through its majestic opening, has a most agree- 
 able and pi£turesque effeft. The only fragment 
 which the church-yard affords us/ was the fol- 
 lowing laudatory epitaph on a table tomb, com- 
 memorating a medical charafter, of an uncom- 
 mon name, but of great celebrity formerly in 
 these parts:— 
 
 " Here resteth the body of Abia Qui, gent, an eminent 
 " physician, who departed this life the ixth day of Oc- 
 ft tober, 1675." 
 
[ 232 ] 
 
 *' He by whose charter XOOO ds held their breath, 
 <c Lies here, the captive of triumphing death ; 
 * If drugs, or matchless skill, could life reclaim, 
 (C His life had been immortal as his fame!" 
 
 The lines carry the more interest with them, 
 as they are said to 7 be some of the earliest ef- 
 fusions of Oldham, the poet, who lived in the 
 neighbourhood of Malmsbury. 
 
 . Charlton-Park, the seat of the Earl of Suffolk, 
 is situated one mile north of Malmsbury, in the 
 midst of a fine level lawn, but so judiciously 
 planted as to prevent all appearance of tame- 
 ness or uniformity. The estate came into the 7 
 family in the sixteenth century, by the marriage 
 of Thomas Earl of Suffolk with Elizabeth 
 daughter and co-heiress to Sir Henry Knevit, 
 of Charlton; and the house was built in the 
 succeeding century by the famous Inigo Jones. 
 It is a most beautiful square structure, with 
 proje£iing bows in each front, and finished 
 above with tabernacled parapets and elegant 
 pinnacles. A small quadrangular area origi- 
 nally occupied the interior of the building, at 
 the corners of which rose four towers, each 
 containing a stair-case ; but the late possessor 
 covered this in, and converted it into a magni^ 
 
[ 233 ] 
 
 ficent saloon. Various other alterations were 
 proposed by him, which would have rendered 
 the mansion one of the most magnificent in the 
 kingdom 5 but death interrupted his schemes 
 of improvement, and obliged him to leave the 
 house in the unfinished state in which it has 
 since remained. Many of the apartments are 
 not habitable; but those in" which the family 
 resides, display a neatness and simplicity infi- 
 nitely more agreeable to true taste, than all the 
 glitter of expensive ornament. 
 
 The first room into which we are introduced 
 is the dining-room, forty-four feet long, the ceil- - 
 ing stuccoed in a very superior style of elegance. 
 It contains, 
 
 A very fine nameless portrait, probably of a 
 distinguished personage, from the hawk upon 
 the wrist; an usual accompaniment of nobility. 
 
 Our Saviour's triumphant entry into Jerusa- 
 lem; a grand pifture, by Paul Veronese. 
 
 Thomas $d Lord Bruce, who attended Charles 
 $. at his coronation in Scotland, when he was 
 created Earl of Elgin ; whole length, by Van- 
 dyke; and, by the same master, its companion, 
 
 Diana, daughter and co-heiress of William 
 Earl of Exeter. 
 
 Cataline swearing the conspirators, 
 
 » 
 
[ 234 ] 
 
 The library has a coved ceiling, and cannot 
 be excelled in the simplex munditiis\ over the 
 fire-place. is a very curious whole length of 
 
 Elizabeth, daughter of Thomas third son of 
 the Lord Treasurer Suffolk; who married first, 
 Sir John Harper, of Derbyshire; and secondly, 
 William Cavendish Duke of Newcastle. She 
 is dressed in black, the tight, stiff, and incon- 
 venient costume of the age of Elizabeth and 
 James L with white shoes, and (though not a 
 learned lady) blue stockings. Her petticoat has 
 a Vandyke border, her stretched-out ruff is em- 
 broidered in the same form, and her sleeves and 
 handkerchief display aprofusionof needle-work. 
 
 In the ante-room are, 
 
 Charles II. by Sir Peter Lely; the dress ex- 
 tremely superb, and the picture as highly finish- 
 ed, as any one of the same personage, by this 
 master, that I have as yet seen. 
 
 Lady Dorothy Cary, (whole length) first wife 
 of William Knollys Earl of Banbury, comp- 
 troller to Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 Lady Isabella Rich, daughter of Robert Earl 
 of Warwick, a whole length. The hair is very 
 remarkable; of a light colour, and extremely 
 profuse ; and appears to have been in buckle, 
 and afterwards combed over her shoulders, 
 
[ 235 ] 
 
 Lady Mary Davis, as she is styled ; her name 
 frequently appears as Madame Davits in the 
 dramatis persona of the Duke's theatre. She 
 was mistress of Charles II. and mother to Mary 
 Tudor Countess of Derwentwater. It was on 
 this Moll Davis, as she was familiarly called, 
 that her rival, Nell Gwynn, played a trick most 
 fair, yet most foul, on the evening that she was 
 engaged with the fickle monarch; recorded in 
 the Memoirs of Count Gramont. 
 
 Sir Edward Sackville, (whole length) younger 
 brother to Richard Sackville Earl of Dorset, 
 who succeeded him in his title and estate; not 
 less famed for elegance of manners than bril- 
 liancy of wit and superior courage. Early in 
 life he was engaged in a duel with Edward 
 Lord Bruce, of Kinloss, his intimate friend ; of 
 which an interesting account is given in the 
 Guardian. The issue of it proved fatal to the 
 latter, though the origin has never been disco- 
 vered. He was one of the commanders sent 
 to the assistance of the imprudent Frederick, 
 of Bohemia, 1620; appointed ambassador to 
 the Court of France in the following year; 
 and at the battle of Edgehill, led the troops who 
 recovered the royal standard. The execution 
 pf Charles I. is said to have affe&ed him so 
 
[ 236 ] 
 
 much, that he never after stirred out of his 
 house in London, where he died 1652. 
 
 -jinne Countess of Stamford, (whole length) wife 
 of Henry first Earl of Dorset. 
 
 Richard Sackville third Earl of Dorset, (whole 
 length) dressed in all the splendour that might 
 be expeSted in one of the most celebrated 
 chara£ters of the times in which he shone; 
 the friend of the accomplished Prince Henry, 
 son of James I. He married Lady Anne Clif- 
 ford, (daughter of George Earl of Cumber- 
 land) whose likeness is preserved in miniature 
 at King's- Weston ; but whose more beautiful 
 portrait, at three different stages, of life, is to 
 be seen (with the head of Daniel the poet, her 
 tutor) at Appleby-Castle. The shoe-ties of this 
 whole length are of most extraordinary size, 
 and, together with the bows at the knees, evince 
 that the coxcomical taste for personal ornament, 
 introduced into the English court by the vanity 
 of Queen Elizabeth, still maintained its influ- 
 ence under the reign of her more phlegmatic 
 successor. 
 
 Elizabeth Hozvard Countess of Banbury, daugh- 
 ter of Thomas Earl of Suffolk, (whole length.) 
 She married William Knollys Earl of Banbury, 
 \>y whom she had no issue; but shortly after 
 
[ 237 ] 
 
 his death, took another husband, Nicholas 
 Lord Vaux, and had two sons. These assumed 
 the name of Knollys and title of Banbury, but 
 were never summoned to Parliament, nor has 
 the title been acknowledged; though it be still 
 borne by the descendants. v 
 
 Charles I. (whole length) by Vandyke, with 
 this motto — Laudesque manebunt. 
 
 Thomas Earl of Suffolk, a very fine half length ; 
 lord treasurer and chancellor of Cambridge, 
 son of .Thomas fourth Duke of Norfolk. A 
 variety of circumstances render his chara£ter 
 remarkable; he w r as a volunteer in the memo- 
 rable engagement with the Spanish Armada, 
 and the subsequent expedition against Cadiz, 
 where he distinguished himself by his courage 
 and intrepidity. He suppressed the Earl of 
 Essex's insurreftion ; attended Lord Monteagle 
 in discovering the gunpowder plot; and built 
 Audley-End, near Saffron- Walden, which, mag- 
 nificent as it still appears, forms but a small part 
 of the original stately structure, (according to 
 Winstanley's 6 Rare Views' of it.) He had 
 the misfortune to be the father of the aban- 
 doned Frances Countess of Somerset, the di- 
 vorced wife of Robert Earl of Essex; and the 
 want of principle, to deserve dismissal from his 
 
[ 238 ] 
 
 office of lord-treasurer, and to incur the fine of 
 thirty thousand pounds, for accepting bribes, 
 and embezzling theking's property. Obiit 1626. 
 
 Craven Howard, grandson of Thomas Earl of 
 Berkshire, and father of Henry Bowes fourth 
 Earl of Suffolk. 
 
 Elizabeth Countess of Northumberland, (whole 
 length) wife of Algernon tenth Earl of Nor- 
 thumberland, and daughter of Theophilus Earl 
 of Suffolk. Obiit 1705, set. 97. 
 
 From hence we pass into a room which may 
 be called the royal bed-chamber, from the circum- 
 stance of King James I. having slept in the old 
 bed which still remains there. 
 
 Here we find, 
 
 Admiral Drake, (whole length;) one of the 
 most distinguished characters in the reign of 
 Elizabeth, whose annals are filled with the glo- 
 rious achievements of our naval commanders. 
 No one amongst them, however, appears more 
 eminently conspicuous than this gallant admi- 
 ral. He first encompassed the globe ; in 1587 
 he destroyed one hundred vessels in Cadiz har- 
 bour, and took a rich East-India galleon, by 
 which the English gained so much insight into 
 the trade 'of that part of the world, as to occa- 
 sion the establishment of what has since proved 
 
t 339 ] 
 
 such a source of wealth to this country — the 
 East-India Company. Obiit 1596. 
 
 Sir Jerome Bozves, whole length, six feet two 
 inches high. A chara&er well suited to the 
 temper of Elizabeth, by whom he was appointed 
 ambassador to Russia, 1583 ; where he appears 
 to have had recourse to arts for the maintenance 
 of his mistress's dignity, which would not have 
 disgraced^ even a modern courtier. On his ar- 
 rival in the capital, he was met by a cavalcade 
 of the principal officers of state, who expe&ed 
 that he would have alighted whilst' they re- 
 mained on horseback ; but this sacrifice of his 
 monarch's dignity he avoided with considerable 
 dexterity. On his iiltroduftion to the Emperor, 
 he was placed a few paces from him, and or- 
 dered to send his credentials; this he refused, 
 and was proceeding to deliver them into his 
 Majesty's own hands, when the chancellor 
 slept forward to receive them 3 but the gallant 
 knight significantly told him, that the queen, 
 his mistress, had not dire&ed any letters for him, 
 and immediately advanced to the throne. He 
 soon afterwards experienced insults from the 
 Emperor himself, who loudly reviled the queen; 
 which was so boldly resented by her represen- 
 tative, that he received orders on the spot, 
 
[ 240 ] 
 
 instantly to quit the Imperial presence. But 
 the monarch soon repented his temerity ; and 
 sent to assure Sir Jerome, " that he wished he 
 " had an hundred such faithful servants in his 
 " own dominions; and further to convince him 
 " of his respe£t for the English sovereign, he 
 " would, on his return home, send a greater 
 " man with him than had ever before quitted 
 " his dominions, with fine presents. " This 
 Prince, however, dying before the departure of 
 our embassy, Bowes efFe£ied his escape from 
 the Russian territories with no small degree of 
 danger, bringing with him a machlis, which is a 
 species of elk, the first ever seen in England, 
 and the Russian carriage, called a sled, which 
 w^as drawn by fallow deer, of extraordinary 
 swiftness. 
 
 Elizabeth Countess of Exeter, daughter of Sir 
 William Drury, and mother of Anne Countess 
 of Stamford, (whole length.) - 
 
 George Booth last Earl of Warrington, father of 
 Mary Countess of Stamford, who was mother 
 to the present Earl. Obiit 1758. 
 
 An old portrait of a man in a black spotted 
 dress. Ann, Dom* 1591, aged 57. 
 
 In the alterations made in the house, due 
 respect has been paid to a fine specimen of 
 
[ 241 ] 
 
 Ini^go's architecture — the great gallery; an 
 apartment which extends the whole length of 
 the front; the cieling of which still remains, 
 untouched, and may be justly considered as a 
 wonder of art. 
 
 Several little villages enliven the road be- 
 tween Malmsbury and Badminton, a ride of 
 eight miles; but none of them convey the ideas 
 of rural happiness to the mind so forcibly as 
 this place. Every thing here bespeaks the 
 munificence of his Grace of Beaufort, w 7 hose 
 mansion adjoins the village; and evinces the 
 good effefts which arise from the residence of 
 a nobleman on his estate, who has ability 
 and inclination to contribute to the comfort of 
 the lower orders in his neighbourhood. For- 
 tunate, indeed, would it be for the country, 
 were this practice more general: Were the 
 lord, by a judicious expenditure of his rents on 
 the spot whence they are derived, and by his re- 
 sidence amongst his peasantry, to animate in- 
 dustry, encourage exertion, assist desert, and 
 diffuse felicity; instead of consuming them in 
 the metropolis in ostentatious folly, or ruinous 
 vice; were the great landholders once more 
 to feel that interest which their forefathers 
 
 R 
 
I 242 ] 
 
 felt towards those who lived and laboured un- 
 der them, our cottages would again smile with 
 plenty, comfort, and content; those peculating 
 miscreants, who are now filling their unblessed 
 coffers, and building up their houses on the 
 wants of the poor man, would hide their di- 
 minished heads; that noblest feature of our 
 country, u a bold peasantry," which is now 
 fading fast away, would again revive and flou- 
 rish; and the murmur of discontent, not loud 
 indeed, but deep, which rolls like muttering 
 thunder round the land, and seems to threaten 
 an approaching storm, would be changed into 
 the song of joy, or be hushed in the quiet of 
 domestic peace. 
 
 The park of Badminton is upwards of ten 
 miles in circumference, and consists of ground 
 agreeably varied with gentle risings and de- 
 pressions, and well-managed plantations. An 
 elegant building, called Worcester- Lodge, seen 
 from the north-front of the house, at the dis- 
 tance of three miles, marks the extent and ter- 
 mination of the park, at this point- At the 
 southern, end of the inclosure, and contiguous 
 to the village, stands the residence of his Grace, 
 with one regular and magnificent front looking 
 towards the north; the other faces are irregu- 
 
[ 243 ] 
 
 lar. Attached to the south-eastern corner of 
 this structure, and connefted with it by a pas- 
 sage room, (by which the family have access 
 to the gallery appropriated to them) is the 
 parish church, built at the expence of the pre- 
 sent Duke, a little to the eastward of the scite 
 of the ancient place of worship. Both the in- 
 side and external of this edifice shew so much 
 correctness of taste, and chastity of design, as 
 place Mr. Evans, the archite£t ? very high on the 
 roll of his profession. It is about sixty-four 
 feet long, forty-four broad, and proportionably 
 high, divided, by two rows of columns, into one 
 principal middle aile, and two lateral ones; a 
 third range, in a transverse dire&ion, supports 
 an elegant oaken gallery at the w r estern end 
 for the accommodation of the family. To the 
 wall, at the back of their seat, is fixed a frag- 
 ment of one of Raphael's cartoons, the sketch 
 of his magnificent pidture of the transfiguration. 
 The part preserved in the church is the lower 
 moiety, representing- the boy whom -the dis- 
 ciples were Unable to dispossess, struggling 
 under the agonizing distra£lion of demoniacal 
 phrenzy; and, in addition to the value which 
 attaches to it in consequence of its being the 
 produ6tion of the greatest master that the world 
 
[ U4f ] 
 
 ever produced, it receives further interest from 
 the circumstance of its having covered the bier 
 of Raphael, when his remains were carried to 
 be interred. A fine paintmgby Joseph Gezzins, 
 in 1678, valued at one thousand guineas, forms 
 the altar-piece; of which the subjeft is, our 
 Saviour's disputation with the Doftors in the 
 Temple. It has much justness of design, and 
 power of execution 5 for nothing can transcend 
 the more than mortal dignity, mingled with 
 bland expression, which beams from the coun- 
 tenance of our blessed Lord. Beneath the 
 communion-table, a quarry of precious marbles 
 spreads itself into a pavement twenty-six feet 
 long and twelve broad, representing, upon a 
 vast scale, the Duke of Beaufort's arms. You 
 will be enabled to form an adequate idea of the 
 immense expence of this costly Mosaic, when 
 I tell you, that a small piece (about six inches 
 long) of lapis lazuli, (a stone used in profusion 
 in the work) necessary to compleat the pattern, 
 cost the D'uke the sum of sixty guineas! 
 
 On each side of the altar is a recess, con- 
 taining a marble monument to the memory of 
 branches of the Somerset family 3 that on 'the 
 right commemorates Charles Noel Duke of 
 Somerset, the father of the present possessor of 
 
• [ 245 ] 
 
 Badminton, who died in 1756. It is executed 
 by Rysbrack, who has represented the deceased 
 by an upright figure, large as life^ clad in a 
 toga, and standing in a speaking attitude, with 
 an angel on one side supporting a coronet. 
 A long and elegant Latin epitaph covers the 
 tablet below, composed by the celebrated Dr. 
 King, principal of St. Mary's Hall, Oxford, 
 who was so conscious of his excellence in 
 the line of classical Latinity, that when he 
 presented the produftion for inscription, he 
 declared, if a single w r ord were altered or 
 omitted, he would withdraw the whole. A 
 much more ably executed monument fills the 
 left hand niche, by the same artist, and finished 
 in 1754. This consists of several parts; the 
 lowest is an oblong basis of white and grey 
 marble, containing the arms and epitaphs; a 
 beautiful sarcophagus of black veined marble 
 surmounts this, supported by richly sculptured 
 feet. Two figures in white marble are sup- 
 ported by the sarcophagus, Henry Somerset 
 the second Duke of Beaufort, (who died May 
 24th, 1714, in the 30th year of his age) rest- 
 ing on a cushion, with the ducal mantle flow- 
 ing from under it, his left hand supporting 
 a medallion, relieved with the head of Rachael 
 
[ S46 ] 
 
 Noel, his second wife, who died Sept. 13th,, 
 1709; and Henry, the son of this noble pair, 
 the third Duke of Beaufort, who died February 
 24th, 1746, in the 37th year of his age. The 
 jialudanientum, or Roman soldier's dress, de- 
 notes his military honours, and the toga thrown 
 over his shoulders points out his senatorial 
 dignity. Two angels on the higher part of the 
 pyramidal slab, at the back of the monument, 
 support the ducal coronet, subscribed with the 
 family motto. At the south-western corner of 
 the church is a third recess, railed in and floored 
 with the same costly materials as the pavement 
 of the altar, containing a sumptuous cenotaph, 
 commemorating the eleven children which the 
 prolific Mary (widow of Henry Lord Beau- 
 champ) presented to Henry Duke of Beaufort, 
 her second husband. Under the family gallery 
 stands a lofty font, of rich antique .purple mar- 
 ble. The church was compleated in 1785. 
 
 Entering the mansion at the hall, we are con- 
 dueled into the north breakfast-room, where the 
 first objeft which commands attention is a 
 ' most splendid cabinet, made in Italy for Chris- 
 tina Queen of Sweden, and brought from 
 thence by Henry Duke of Beaufort, (grand- 
 father of the present Duke) who also colle&ed, 
 
[ 247 ] 
 
 at an immense expence, the vast profusion of 
 precious marbles contained in the church, and 
 in every room of the house. This cabinet is 
 formed of black marble and ebony enriched 
 with every precious stone, and fillagreed brass, 
 double gilt. It is about fourteen fpet high, and 
 terminated at the top by a clock ; the drawers 
 are of cedar. This room contains also the fol- 
 lowing pi£iures, to the right of the cabinet : — 
 
 Christ accompanying his two disciples to 
 Emmaus, a large landscape, by C. Lorraine; 
 remarkable for its trees in the foreground, and 
 its beautiful distances. 
 
 Large Landscape, by Vander Steften. 
 
 Over the chimney, Landscape, by Wootton, 
 in imitation of C. Lorraine. The softness of 
 the tints and glory of the sky, approach to the 
 best manner of the great master whose style 
 he has here attempted. 
 
 Landscape, by Vander Ste£len \ a companion 
 to the one above. — Landscape, by Romanelli; 
 Pan in pursuit of Syrinx and her nymphs. — 
 Landscape, by Suanevelt. — Landscape, by 
 Wootton ; but here he worked without his great 
 model, and has fallen short of the effort de- 
 cribed above. —Landscape, by Claude Lorraine j 
 
 x 
 
[ 248 ;■] 
 
 representing the temptation of Christ by the 
 Devil. — All these pi£iures are of a large size. 
 
 In the entrance-hall \ are, 
 
 A white marble sarcophagus, of vast dimen- 
 sions, brought from Rome by Duke Henry, a 
 present from Cardinal Alberoni. The sub- 
 jetl, a Bacchanalian procession ; consisting of 
 numerous figures, all of fine workmanship, and 
 in high preservation. The youthful rosy god 
 appears in the centre, mounted on his panther, 
 and bearing in his hand a thyrsus. 
 
 Four great Landscapes, by Wootton; one 
 representing Stonehenge. 
 
 Fine grey Arabian Horse, ,a Negro, and a 
 Dog, by Wootton ; who was a protege of this 
 noble family, and owed his success in life to 
 their patronage. 
 
 Common dining-room, 
 
 The present Duke of Beaufort, when a child, 
 on horseback, by Wootton. 
 
 Admiral Boscawen, father of the present 
 Duchess, (full length) by Ramsay. — A Dog, 
 finished by Wootton, begun by another master.' 
 
 The present Duchess Dowager of Rutland ; copy 
 from a painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 A Dog, by Stuart, a copy from Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds. 
 
[ 249 ] 
 South breakfast-room, 
 
 Jesus at Simeon's house, by Basani.— .Basani 
 and son, by himself; a curious pi£ture, with a 
 difficult and singular double light. — Old Rag- 
 man; the figure richly illuminated, by Michael 
 Angelo Carravaggio. — Landscape, by Ppussin. 
 — Two Sea Views in Holland. — Two Land- 
 scapes, by Wootton. — Landscape, by Francesco 
 Bolognese. — Landscape, by We nix, with a 
 remarkably fine light. 
 
 Great dining-room, , 
 
 Henry first Duke of Beaufort, (half-length, by 
 Vandyke) created so by Charles II. who added 
 other dignities and honours to this represen- 
 tative of a family that had been the steady ad- 
 herents of his unfortunate father, and himself. 
 James II. continued to bestow upon the Duke 
 marks of royal favour; and his gratitude evinced, 
 that he had deserved the prote&lon of his royal 
 masters; for on the abdication of the latter, and 
 the accession of William, he refused to take the 
 oaths, and retiring from court, lived in seclusion 
 till 1699, when -be died, aged 70. He married, 
 
 Mary, widow of Henry Lord Beauchamp, and 
 daughter of Arthur Lord Capel, who was be- 
 headed in 1647, a f ter having gallantly de- 
 fended Colchester against the Parliamentarian 
 
[ 250 ] 
 
 forces. Obiit 17 14, aetat. 85. Whole length, 
 by Dahh 
 
 Henry second Duke of Beaufort, a distinguished' 
 partizan of the Tories in the reign of Queen 
 Anne, whom he entertained at his mansion in 
 1702. On the dismissal of the Whigs in 1710, 
 he was made lord lieutenant of Hants and Glo- 
 cestershire,' warden of the New Forest, knight 
 of the garter, &c. He died 17 14, having mar- 
 ried the lady that next occurs, 
 
 Rachael Duchess of Beaufort, daughter of Wrio- 
 thesly Baptist Noel 2d Earl of Gainsborough. 
 
 Charles Lord Somerset, second son of Charles 
 Marquis of Worcester; he died in Italy 17 10, 
 and bequeathed five hundred pounds to Christ- 
 Church College, Oxford. 
 
 This room is ornamented with a profusion of 
 carved wood-work, by Gibbons, the celebrated 
 artist in that line, w r hose imitations of fruits, 
 flowers, and birds, have justly excited the ad- 
 miration and wonder of a century. 
 
 Green dressing-room, 
 
 Madona and Child, by Guercino.— Two 
 paintings of Ruins, by Viviano. — -A very curi- 
 ous Satyrical Pi£ture, by Salvator Rosa; it ex- 
 hibits Fortune showering her favours upon the 
 different nations of Europe, who are repre- 
 
[ 251 ] 
 
 sented under the forms of various animals. 
 Italy is pointed out by an ass covered with a 
 cardinal's cloak, his fore-foot treading upon a 
 painter's pallet, intending to adumbrate the 
 opposition which the arts met from the church. 
 The sheep, hog, eagle, cow, fox, and wolf, 
 represent other countries. The hierarchy, 
 however, whose motto has ever been Nemo me 
 impme lacessit, rewarded the satire, by shutting 
 up Salvator Rosa in the Castle of St. Angelo, 
 from whence he was liberated with much diffi- 
 culty. The figure of Fortune, though vulgar, 
 has a wonderful deal of fire and spirit. Five 
 years since the pifture was copied for engraving. 
 
 The nursing of Jupiter, by Salvator Rosa. — 
 Two pieces, Ruins, by Gazolpi.— View of 
 Buildings in Rome, by Poussin. — Esther and 
 Ahasuerus, by Pietro de Cortone. 
 
 The chimney -piece i$ adorned by the pencil of 
 Angelica KaufFman, who has painted upon 
 marble, in a most agreeable manner, the Return 
 of Tele ma ch us. 
 
 The piEture-gallery. 
 
 Here we have the family canvas not quite 
 like the Surfaces, up to the Conquest, but to Old 
 John of Gaunt, from whom the De Beauforts 
 claim lineal descent 3 and with whose portrait 
 
[ 252 ] 
 
 I shall begin the list. It was pointed oof by 
 our guide as an undoubted original. As I 
 never dispute with a man about his own pedi- 
 gree, nor doubt the veracity of a cicerone when 
 I have not the means of refutation; I could only 
 express my satisfa&ion that the likeness of ' time- 
 honoured Lancaster' had suffered so little from 
 the ' mouldering hand of time.' The panne! 
 preserves that haughty tone and carriage of this 
 puissant prince, which rendered him so un- 
 popular whilst exercising the authority of a 
 regent, though not legally vested with the 
 power, during the minority of Richard II. He 
 gave to all his children, by the third wife, the 
 name of Beaufort, from a castle so called in 
 Anjou, where they were born; the eldest of 
 whom, 
 
 John ^ is richly clad in armour, profusely stud- 
 ded with gold. He was created Earl of Somer- 
 set 1396, and died 1410. 
 
 Edmund, second son of John, was Earl of 
 Mortein in Normandy, and created Duke of 
 Somerset by Henry VI. slain at the battle of 
 St. Albans 1455; an ^ was succeeded by his 
 eldest son # 
 
 Henry, who distinguished himself greatly in 
 the wars in France, and in the various conten- 
 
[ 253 } 
 
 tions between the rival Houses of York and 
 Lancaster; he was taken prisoner at the battle 
 of Hexham; and beheaded 1463, for his adhe- 
 rence to the Lancastrians; having filled the 
 office of lieutenant and goverrtor of the Isle of 
 Wight and Carisbrook-Castle, and governor 
 of Calais, under Henry VI. He left a natural 
 son, named 
 
 Charles, who was in high esteem with Henry 
 VII. by whom he was appointed one of the 
 privy council, admiral of the fleet, knight of 
 the garter, and embassador to the Emperor 
 Maximilian; first chamberlain, and captain of 
 the guards. With this superiority of royal 
 countenance, it is not astonishing that he could, 
 obtain in marriage the heiress of Ragland, Eli- 
 zabeth only daughter of William Earl of Hun- 
 tingdon, in whose right he bore the title of 
 Lord Herbert. The successor of Hsnry VII. 
 continued Charles in his several offices, and 
 made him his companion in his expedition to 
 France, where he greatly distinguished himself 
 by his valour and intrepidity. Henry after- 
 wards created him Earl of Worcester ; and it 
 may be stated as not the least remarkable cir- 
 cumstance of the Earl's life/that he enjoyed his 
 master's confidence till his death 1526. 
 
I 254 ] . 
 
 Henry second Earl of Worcester signalized 
 himself in the wars of France, for which he 
 was knighted during his father's life-time; and 
 soon after his accession to the title, was ap- 
 pointed one of the commissioners for conclu- 
 ding a peace, Obiit 1549. 
 
 Sir Charles Somerset was eldest son, by the 
 second wife, of Charles first Earl of Worcester, 
 and captain of the tower of Rysebank in the 
 haven of Calais. 
 
 Sir G. Somerset, his brother, splendidly dressed 
 in armour, probably the same that was worn by 
 his father, who bequeathed it to him by will. 
 
 William third Earl of Worcester accompanied 
 Lord Northampton, in 1 55 1, to present Henry 
 II. of France, with the order of the garter ; and 
 was sent by Elizabeth, 1573, as her sponsor, 
 with a font of pure gold, for the christening 
 of Charles's ninth daughter, Obiit 1589; and 
 was succeeded by his son 
 
 Edzvard, fourth Earl, who went in 1591 on 
 an embassy from Elizabeth to James VI. of 
 Scotland, to congratulate him on his marriage 
 and safe return from Denmark. Naunton re- 
 ports him the best tilter and horseman of his 
 day, in consequence of which he was nominated 
 master of the horse; this appointment seems 
 
[ 255 ] 
 
 rather more consistent with strift propriety 
 than that of Sir Christopher Hatton, who was 
 made lord chancellor because he was a fine 
 dancer. Camden, the historian, who has re- 
 ported the memorabilia of this reign, observes, 
 " that Edward fourth Earl of Worcester died 
 " 1627, leaving more children than all the Earls 
 " in England besides." 
 
 Elizabeth Hastings, (over the door) daughter 
 of Francis Earl of Huntingdon, and wife of 
 the aforesaid Edward, and mother of 
 
 Henry fifth Earl and first Marquis of W ircester, 
 one of the most interesting and disinterested 
 chara£lers to be found in the history of the 
 House of Stuart, to w r hich he manifested a sin- 
 cere and steady attachment to the last hour of 
 his life, and the material injury of his fortune. 
 At the age of eighty, he raised a regiment of 
 horse for Charles I. and defended his castle at 
 Ragland, with eight hundred troops, from 1 642 
 to 1646, when he surrendered it to Sir Thomas 
 Fairfax, on terms most honourable to the con- 
 quered, but which were basely violated by the 
 besiegers; and its gallant defender delivered 
 up to the Parliament's black rod, in whose cus- 
 tody he died 1647, a § ed 8 4; and was succeeded 
 in title by his son 
 
[ 256 ] 
 
 Edward, styled, Earl of Glamorgan in his 
 father's life-time, by which name we frequently 
 meet with him in the accounts of the civil 
 wars of Charles I. This monarch entrusted the 
 Earl with a most dangerous patent, w r hilst nego- 
 ciating with the rebels in Ireland, whom he was 
 commissioned to engage in the royal cause, 
 with power of conferring titles and distinftions 
 ad libitum : This was surrendered at the Restora- 
 tion, in consequence of a vote of the Lords, who 
 were properly alarmed at the increase which it 
 might make in their House, and which they 
 wisely declared was the most effe&ual method 
 of bringing the Aristocracy into disrepute and 
 contempt. He published " a Century of Inven- 
 tions y containing many absurdities, some pos- 
 sibilities, and few prafticabilities. He married 
 Elizabeth daughter of Sir William Dormer, by 
 whom he had three daughters and his successor, 
 
 Henry, equally favoured by, and attached to, 
 the family for whom his ancestors had made 
 such signal sacrifices was created Duke of 
 Beaufort by Charles II. as mentioned before. 
 
 Over the door, Sir Charles Somerset, knight, 
 second son of Charles Earl of Worcester. 
 
 Charles Marquis of Worcester, son of the first 
 Duke of Beaufort. Died 1698, setat 38;having 
 
[ 257 ] 
 
 married Rebecca daughter to Sir Josiah Child, 
 by whom he was father to Henry second Duke 
 of Beaufort, the Tory partizan mentioned above. 
 
 Over the chimney, three children of the 
 Marquis of Worcester, by Murray. 
 
 Henry third Duke of Beaufort, respe&ed for 
 his public conduft, and beloved for his private 
 munificence, he died without issue, 1745, aetat. 
 39; and was succeeded by his brother Charles, 
 the late Duke, who died in 1756, having mar- 
 ried Elizabeth Baroness Bottertourt; by whom 
 he was father of Mary Isabella Duchess of 
 Rutland. 
 
 Over the door, Sir George Somerset, son of 
 Charles Earl of Worcester, in splendid armour. 
 He was not in the lineal succession. 
 
 In the Duke's dressing-room are, 
 
 Cardinal Alberoni, by Trevisani ; this dignitary 
 of the Romish church, as famous for his talents 
 as the perversion of them to contemptible poli- 
 tical intrigues, made a conspicuous figure in the 
 affairs of the Italian courts, during the early 
 part of the eighteenth century. An intimate 
 friendship subsisted between him and Duke 
 Henry, who, by his assistance, procured many 
 of the precious things which he brought from 
 Italy. In Seward's c Anecdotes/ we find an 
 
 s 
 
[ 258 ] 
 
 engraving of the cardinal, from the portrait 
 before us. 
 
 Henry third Duke of Beaufort, by Trevisani. 
 
 Charlotte, the present Duchess of Beaufort, 
 who was second daughter of the Marquis of 
 Stafford; painted by Coates. 
 
 Lord Arthur Somerset, and his ladv. 
 
 In the billiard-room we find, 
 
 Over the fire-place, the Family of the first 
 Duke of Beaufort, by Brown, (small whole 
 lengths) finished in the most exquisite style. 
 
 Marquis and Marchioness of Worcester, (whole 
 lengths.) 
 
 Mary Duchess of Orrnond, daughter of the first 
 Duke of Beaufort, and her son Lord Ossory. 
 Lord Charles Somerset. 
 
 A small portrait, highly finished, in the man- 
 ner of Holbein, on copper, supposed to be the 
 first Earl of Worcester. 
 
 Lord and Lady Coventry, by Sir P. Lely$ the 
 latter was Lady Anne Somerset, fourth daughter 
 of Henry first Duke of Beaufort, who died in 
 1 763, aged 90; having married Thomas Earl 
 of Coventry in 169 1. 
 
 Arthur Lord Cafiel, one of the amiable cha- 
 ra£lers of the seventeenth century. Steadily 
 attached to the early fortune of Charles I. he 
 
[ 259 ] 
 
 scorned basely to abandon him in its decline ; 
 and having long defended Colchester with the 
 resolution of a man conscious of the goodness 
 of the cause in which he had engaged, he was 
 at length obliged to surrender the place; and 
 in violation of the promise given by the Parlia- 
 mentarian General, expired on the block. He 
 met his fate on the scaffold with the same cool- 
 ness and heroism he had displayed in the field. 
 
 An old nameless portrait, of the time of 
 Elizabeth or James I. 
 
 Sir Thomas Somerset, as supposed. 
 
 The ante-room is elegantly furnished with green 
 damask, and contains, 
 
 Scanderbeg, as Santo Amato, a fine pi£ture by 
 Cavelliero Calabragi; the light is thrown in 
 upon the forehead of the principal figure in 
 such a manner as to produce a wonderful effe£L 
 Scanderbeg was a distinguished Christian hero 
 in the Turkish history; and such was the sur- 
 prise with which his exploits filled the Sultan 
 Mahomet, that he sent to request his scymeter, 
 supposing it to , be magical, but on finding 
 nothing remarkable in the weapon, it was re- 
 turned, with an assurance " that the Sultan 
 " had many better in his own armoury, but no 
 " person who knew so well how to use them;" 
 
[ 260 J 
 
 To this Scanderbeg replied, c he had only 
 c sent his scymeter, and not his arm/ He died 
 in the Venetian States 1467, aetat. 63. 
 
 Guido, by himself, in the Flemish costume ; 
 a black dress, with the shirt collar turned over 
 it, a broad brimmed slouched hat, whiskers, 
 and pointed beard. This admirable master of 
 the Italian school, who excelled equally in the 
 two lines of historical and portrait painting, 
 amassed, by his labour, a considerable fortune, 
 which he lost, by his folly, at play. He died 
 1642, aged 67. His most choice produ&ion 
 was supposed to be the celebrated St. Michael, 
 formerly in the Capuchins at Rome. 
 
 Simeon and Christ, by Rubens. — Holy Fa- 
 mily, "by P. de Cortone. — Lady and Gentleman 
 at picquet, small and highly-finished, by Gon- 
 zales. — Landscape, by Wootton. — Landscape, 
 by Polonese. — The Judgment of Paris, an ex- 
 quisite little pifture of the school of Raphael. 
 Hawking piece, by Wenix. — Hunting piece, by 
 Wouvermans. — Battle-piece, by Bourgagnogni. 
 
 The Rape of the Sabines, improperly so 
 called, as the subject is evidently different to 
 this transa£iion, by P. de Cortone. 
 
 The Women at the Sepulchre, a copy from 
 Carlo Maratti, by Graaf. 
 
[ 261 ] 
 
 Blue dressing-room^ so called from the blue 
 satin hangings, and the elegant chairs of the 
 same colour and materials, contains. 
 
 The Church of Redemption at Venice, and 
 another Church, by Cahaletti.** — Jesus and 
 Woman of Samaria,' by H. Carracci. — A Holy 
 Family, by Raphael. — Flight out of Egypt, and 
 Head of a Virgin, by C. Maratti. 
 
 St. Matthew writing his Gospel, by Guido; 
 a very fine head, looking intently on an angel, 
 who appears to be teaching him " the words 
 of eternal life." 
 
 Angel's Head, by C. Maratti. — Virgin suck- 
 ling a child, by Carlo Vecchio.— Holy Family, 
 by Julio Romano. — Holy Family, unknown. — 
 Morning and Evening, two landscapes, by 
 Wootton. — St. Mark, intent on a book; St. 
 Luke, the eye turned up in extacy to heaven ; 
 St. John, as if deeply in thought; by Guido.— 
 Cupid and Bacchus, by Carlo Cigniani. — The 
 Farnesian Bull, a groupe painted from an anti- 
 que, on copper, by Andrea Sacchi. — Alehouse 
 party, by Teniers. — A large Landscape, Saint 
 Anthony preaching to the fish, by G. Poussin. 
 — St. Anthony's Temptation, by Teniers; dis- 
 tant landscape w r ell introduced through the 
 opening of the cavern. 
 
[ 262 ] 
 
 Holy Family, by Leonardo di Vinci; a very 
 curious subje£t, an angel represented as weigh- 
 ing souls, and the devil under the table pulling 
 down those which " are found wanting." 
 
 The library is a noble room, though some- 
 what gloomy, from being fitted up with oak. 
 At one end appears the bust of Nero, in por- 
 phyry; at the other, that of his mother Agrip- 
 pina, in white marble. The colle£Hon of books 
 is great, and the arrangement admirable. 
 
 Ascending the stairs, we reach the Duke's 
 dressing-room, where we find, over the chimney, 
 
 S ah at or Rosa, by himself, fierce and darjc 
 as his own style. This artist was a man of great 
 and varied talents, shining equally as a pain- 
 ter, engraver, and poet; he was born at Naples 
 in 1 6 1 5. Such was the rapidity with which he 
 finished his pi6lures, that he might be said to 
 have worked against time, of which the follow- 
 mgfitaisanterie is recorded; that being employed 
 by one of the Constables of France to paint a 
 large picture, he begun, finished, and carried it 
 home in a day ; this so pleased his employer, that 
 he gave him a purse of gold, ancl bespoke a se- 
 cond, which was produced within the period, 
 and gained him the like reward, with orders for a 
 third and fourth, which were finished as quickly. 
 
[ 263 ] 
 
 and equally paid for; but on the production of 
 the fifth, he received two purses, and a message, 
 that the Constable gave up the contest. He 
 died at Rome 1673. 
 
 Baptism of Christ, exquisitely worked in 
 ivory, from a picture of Poussin. 
 
 Cornelius Jartsen, by himself; a native of Am- 
 sterdam, in high esteem with James h His 
 style was clear, lively, and natural; and though 
 his portraits have not the freedom and grace 
 of Vandyke's works, yet they are generally 
 allowed to be as well finished. He died 1665. 
 
 Head of a Philosopher, by Sal-vator Rosa. — 
 Diana and Aftseon; and Venus riding on the 
 waves ; by C. Maratti. 
 
 Andromeda and Perseus, by Titian; defec- 
 tive in the expression of countenance in the 
 former, which being represented with the mouth 
 open, crying for help, conveys the idea of a 
 squalling brat. 
 
 Silk Manufactory, by Basani. — Bacchus and 
 Ariadne, by Signora Elenora Pansachia. — Diana 
 and Dog, by Guido, in his early style. 
 
 Sir Thomas More, a fine original portrait, by 
 Hans Holbein. In addition to what I have be- 
 fore, said of this august charafter, it may be 
 worth while to observe, that on the publication 
 
[ 264 ] 
 
 of his celebrated ' Utopia/ which gives the 
 idea of a perfect republic > in a supposed newly 
 discovered island in America, it was recom- 
 mended by some very learned men of the day, 
 that missionaries should be sent to convert so 
 wise a people to Christianity. 
 
 Landscape, by Poussin. — Storm at Sea, and 
 its companion. — View of Tivoli, by Polemberg. 
 — Large Landscape, by Suanevelt. — Four small 
 Landscapes, by Berghem. — Egyptian Scene, 
 pyramids, &c. by Wootton. 
 
 Erasmus , with his hand upon his book, by 
 Hans Holbein. The restorer of learning, and 
 the reformer of religion ; erudite without affec- 
 tation, pious without severity, and witty with- 
 out libertinism. All the lovers of science, and 
 all the admirers of virtue, revered the man who 
 had made such progress in the one, and was so 
 strenuous an advocate for the other; and though 
 Henry VIII. had not much esteem for either, 
 the excellencies of Erasmus were such as com- 
 manded his respeft and regard. The follow- 
 ing lines, written by Beza, and inscribed under 
 a half length painting of Erasmus, by Holbein, 
 express that general sense of his superiority, 
 which was entertained by the literati of the 
 sixteenth century : — 
 
[ 265 ] 
 
 " Ingens ingentem quern personal orbis Erasmum* i 
 f Haec tibi dimidium pi6ta tabella refert; 
 
 At cur non totum ? Mirari desine, lector, 
 " Integra nam totum terra nec ipsa capit." 
 
 Beautiful Landscape, byDominichino. — Two 
 Battle-pieces, by Bourgagnogni. — Large Land- 
 scape, by Suanevelt. — Ruined Amphitheatre, 
 by Wootton. 
 
 Hannibal Carracci, (small) by himself; the most 
 celebrated artist of a family of painters, who 
 worked in common at the Farnese palace at 
 Rome. He died in 1609, aged 49. 
 
 Two Views of Ruins, by Viviano. 
 
 Over the entrance door, a Venetian Courtezan, 
 -by Michael Angelo Carravaggio ; this is a most 
 exquisite picture, the diamond in a casket of 
 jewels. She is represented playing on a man- 
 dolin, a table near, with glass decanters on it, 
 containing flowers. The management of lights 
 in this pi£iure is scientific in the highest degree, 
 and the execution of the hands, drapery, and 
 subordinate parts, cannot be too highly ap- 
 plauded. 
 
 Hugh Bos caw en Viscount Falmouth, the upright 
 representative of the boroughs of Truro, Pen- 
 ryn, and county of Cornwall. His strenuous 
 attachment to the House of Hanover, and his 
 
[ 266 ] 
 
 aftive services in that rebellion which threat- 
 ened their title, raised -him to the dignity of a 
 peerage in 1720, by the name of Baron of Bos- 
 cawen Rose, and Viscount Falmouth, in the 
 county of Cornwall. He died 061. 25, 1 734. 
 
 Henry Hyde Earl of Clarendon, son of the cele- 
 brated historian. 'Notwithstanding: the ingra- 
 titude of James II. who unjustly deprived him 
 of the lord-lieutenancy of Ireland, and the 
 privy-seal, he continued for some time a steady 
 adherent to his fortunes; till perceiving that 
 the infatuated condu£l of the king left no 
 chance of the restoration of his affairs, he united 
 himself to the Prince of Orange, and was ap- 
 pointed, with the Earl of Oxford, on his behalf, 
 to meet the commissioners of the king at Hun- 
 gerford. In his senatorial duties he exhibited 
 considerable eloquence in debate, and ingenu- 
 ity in argument. He died in 1709. 
 
 William S/iifi/ien, or, as he is called by Pope, 
 " Honest Shiftmen" one of the " virtuous few" 
 whose integrity was proof against the almost 
 all-corrupting subtlety of Sir Robert Walpole. 
 Firm, dignified, and inflexible, Shippen ever 
 preserved a consistency of political condu6t, 
 Animated, energetic, and pointed in debate, 
 he always commanded attention in the House ; 
 
[ 267 ] 
 
 whilst his sprightly manners, pleasing con- 
 versation, and inoffensive wit, in the social 
 intercourse of private life, procured him the 
 esteem and regard of most of the characters 
 of his time remarkable for worth, learning, 
 or abilities. As a poet, his two works " Fac- 
 tion displayed," and " Moderation displayed," 
 give him~the praise of a caustic satyrist, rather 
 than that of an harmonious versifyer. 
 
 The Chinese bed-chamber receives its name 
 from the fanciful furniture with which it is 
 fitted up. It contains, 
 
 Charles I. and his Queen, by Vandyke. 
 
 Connected with this room are two small 
 apartments, a little cabinet, where we find, 
 
 The Duchess of Rutland, when a child, by Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 In the Duchess's dressing-room are^ome family 
 portraits, by Opie ; and one stiff* and aukward 
 one of Lady Elizabeth Talbot, eldest daughter 
 of his Grace, by Sir Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 The north front of Badminton-House is 
 extremely grand; consisting of a body sur- 
 mounted at the extremities by cupolas, and 
 adorned in the centre with a tympanum, con- 
 taining the Beaufort arms; and two extensive 
 proje&ing wings. This commands the whole 
 
[ 268 ] 
 
 extent of the park, which stretches three 
 miles in a right line from it, terminated by s 
 Worcester-Lodge. But the apparent distance 
 is much less, a singular deceptiovisus, being pro- 
 duced by some dips in the ground, that in- 
 tervene between the house and the lodge. — A 
 comfortable asylum for the decayed servants of 
 the family, supported by the Duke of Beaufort, 
 bears honourable testimony to his Grace's ge- 
 nerous munificence. 
 
 On our road to Bath, deviating a little to the 
 right from the turnpike-road about two miles 
 from Badminton, our route leads us to Old 
 Sodbury, where we meet with a noble speci- 
 men of Roman castrametation, taking the 
 accustomed form of a long square, rounded at 
 the corners. The length of the area from east 
 to w T est is two hundred and sixty paces, the 
 breadth one hundred and seventy. To the east, 
 south, and west, it was defended by a double 
 ditch and double vallum, through which were 
 three porta or entrances; an abrupt natural 
 sinking of the ground formed a barrier suffici- 
 ently strong on the remaining side to preclude 
 the necessity of artificial vallations. A grand 
 view discloses itself from this commanding ele- 
 
[ 209 ] 
 
 vation. Many attribute the encampment at 
 Old-Sodbury to the Saxons or Danes, but it 
 should seem with little propriety. Either of 
 these people,, indeed, might have availed them- 
 selves of so strong a work, in so happy a situ- 
 ation, for the temporary accommodation of an 
 army; as Edward IV. is recorded to have done, 
 when he was marching to the field of Tewkes- 
 bury, so fatal to Queen Margaret; but that 
 it may be ranked amongst the labours of the 
 Roman soldiers, originally, is obvious, at a 
 single glance, to any one acquainted with the 
 earth-works of this military people. The whole 
 country, indeed, from hence to Bath has been 
 the scene of ancient warfare. It was in this 
 direftion that the Romans first marched to 
 found the colony of Aqua So/is 9 nearly eighteen 
 hundred years ago; and it was in the same line 
 that the Saxon adventurers, Ceaulin and Cuth- 
 win, five hundred years afterwards, led their 
 troops to the attack of the city of " the Waters 
 of the Sun.* 9 Rushing on in the spirit of the 
 times, through blood and fire, 
 
 " Amazement in their van, with flight combined, 
 " And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind ; 
 
 they at length reached Dyrham, about eight 
 
[ 270 ] 
 
 miles from Bath, the seat at present of William 
 Blathwayte, esq. There an enemy was assem- 
 bled to meet them; the three kings of Glocester, 
 Cirencester, and Bath- — Cornmail, Candidan, 
 and Forrinmail — prepared to contest, by one 
 desperate effort, their crowns and lives. The 
 hosts encountered with a dreadful shock; and, 
 after a bloody contest, viftory declared for 
 Ceaulin and his brother leader; the dispirited 
 Britons fled, or were cut to pieces with their 
 kings, and the triumphant Saxons marched 
 down the hill to Bath, and took possession of 
 the most splendid city in the West of England. 
 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 R. W. 
 
EXCURSION III. 
 
 LETTER IV. , 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 BEAR sir, Sept. 2gtb, 1800. 
 
 9 I ^HE city of Bath has been indebted to the 
 Romans for at least two of its present 
 public roads 5 both to the north-west and to 
 the east, towards Bristol and towards London, 
 the turnpike pursues for some distance the 
 military ways formed by that extraordinary peo- 
 
[ 272 ] 
 
 pie. What we now call the upper road to Bris- 
 tol, avails itself, at its outset, of the durable 
 foundation of a Roman causeway, which, run- 
 ning from Bath through Hanham to Aust y 
 crossed the Severn to Lydney, and afforded 
 communication between the iron mines in the 
 Forest of Dean and the city of Aqua Soils. 
 This upper road I have preferred to the lower 
 one, since it is not only venerable from its an- 
 tiquity, but passing along the declivity of the 
 high hills of Lansdown, which rise to the right, 
 it opens a beautiful view to the west and north- 
 west, of all the flat country through which the 
 Avon winds his sluggish stream, and of the 
 sweeping elevations beyond it, crowned w<ith 
 the encampments of Ostorius Scapula, the sub- 
 jugator of this part of Britain. The whole of this 
 interesting scene, (varied in the bottom by the 
 light and elegant stone bridge that crosses the 
 river, and the village and manufa61:ories of 
 Twerton ; and on the opposite ascent, by the 
 church and village of Newton, and the noble 
 woods in the park of Wm. Gore Langton, esq;) 
 is entirely commanded from the modern mansion 
 of Sir John Hawkins, bart. situated on the edge 
 of a bold bank, which rises abruptly ;>^n the 
 riv^r, studded by trees of various kinds. This 
 
[ 273 ] 
 
 mansion was built about thirty years ago, by 
 the celebrated surgeon of that name, near the 
 scite of the manor-house of Kilweston, the seat 
 of the ancient family of Harington, and the 
 work of James Barozzi, an architeft, of Vignola. 
 
 Passing through the village of Bitton, we 
 enter the Chase of Kingswood, formerly a 
 royal forest; and now supplying, from its nu- 
 merous pits, the coals consumed in the neigh- 
 bouring city of Bristol. Amid the rugged 
 inhabitants of this dingy distrifit did the inde- 
 fatigable and conscientious John Wesley ad- 
 venture his person in the service of the Gospel; 
 and with an inflexible perseverance, that was nei- 
 ther discouraged by toil, nor scared by danger, 
 continued his exertions, till he had tamed that 
 obduracy and savageness, which habits of life 
 so distant from civilization, and ignorance so 
 profound, as the colliers usually exhibit, may 
 be expe&ed to produce. Regarding, as I do 
 with abhorrence, the customary baneful eflfe&s 
 produced in society by the preaching of Me- 
 thodists, I should be far from encouraging in 
 general their efforts amongst mankind; yet can- 
 dour must allow, that in some cases it may be 
 considered as beneficial; for as poisons are occa* 
 
 T 
 
[ 274 ] 
 
 sionally administered with efficacy in dispelling 
 desperate diseases, so the strong doflrines of 
 jVJJethodism may operate usefully with those 
 classes of society whose hearts, hardened by 
 profligacy, could not be affe£ted by the mild 
 precepts of rational Christianity. Certain it is 
 the condu£l of the numerous body of colliers in 
 Kingswood is now marked by a decency and 
 regularity, which one would hardly expeft to 
 find in such a description of people; though 
 the preserving of them in this state of quiet and 
 order must be in a great measure attributed to 
 the very praise-worthy and exemplary manage- 
 ment of the parochial minister of St. George's 
 parish, (a great part of which lies in Kings- 
 wood) and to the energy of the magistrates of 
 that distridt. 
 
 Conham, a little village to the left of Han- 
 ham, (to which place we now approach) affords 
 an example of the judicious application of those 
 improvements which the moderns have made 
 in natural science, to the purposes of praftical 
 utility. This is a manufa&ory near the river, 
 belonging to Messrs. Lukins', called the Gibbes- 
 ium 9 so named from Dr. Gibbes, a respe&able 
 physician of Bath; who, improving upon a dis- 
 
t 275 ] 
 
 covery first made public by Fourcroy, the great 
 French chemist,* has invented and adopted a 
 very ingenious process for the speedy conversion 
 of animal matter into spermaceti, j" which he su- 
 
 * The singular fa<ft of the conversion of dead animal matter, 
 by the chemistry of nature, into a substance resembling sperma- 
 ceti, (in its properties and appearances) was first announced by 
 Monsieur Fourcroy, in the c Annales de ChimieJ many years 
 since. On the opening of a very extensive burying-ground in 
 Paris, (the Ceineterie des Innocens ) that celebrated chemist exa- 
 mined many of the bodies which had been buried for a long 
 series of years. By the influence of moisture, some of them were 
 found partly changed into a fatty substance, instead of having 
 undergone the putrefactive decomposition. This change was 
 observed by Monsieur Fourcroy to be more or less complete, ac- 
 cording to the situations in which the bodies had been laid, and 
 the time during which they had remained. — Annales de Chimie* 
 
 Lord Bacon, in his i Sylva Sy /varum, 9 states, that such a 
 change may be effected, by putting pieces of flesh into a glass 
 covered with parchment, and allowing the glass to stand six or 
 seven hours in boiling water. 
 
 Thomas Sneyd, esq; of Staffordshire, found in the mud at the 
 head of a fish-pond, the body of a duck, or young goose, con- 
 verted into a hard fatty matter, resembling spermaceti; having 
 apparently suffered a similar change with that of the human 
 bodies, observed by Mons. Fourcroy in the Cemeterie des Inno~ 
 cens- Philosophical Trans aclions, 1792. 
 
 f Dr. Gibbes found, that the same substance was formed in the 
 macerating tubs (that is, tubs wherein the parts of animal bodies 
 left after dissection are immersed in water) of the anatomical 
 schools of London and Oxford. He accordingly attempted the 
 artificial production of the same change, by submitting the leanest 
 part of a rump of beef, in a box perforated with holes, to the 
 contact and action of running water. The Doctor afterwards 
 buried a cow in a place where it was also exposed to the action 
 of a fresh surface of running water. The rump of beef was per« 
 
c m i 
 
 perintends and dire£h at this place. Every 
 prospeft of success seems to attend the specu- 
 lation, a success that is further secured by an 
 establishment of the manufaftory of Prussian 
 blue, hartshorn, &c. from the blood, horns, 
 
 fectly, and the cow partially, changed into a fatty matter of the 
 kind before described. Dr. Gibbes found, that the nitrous 
 acid effected the same process in a very short time ; to separate 
 the converted from the unchanged parts, he added nitrous acid, 
 which produced it perfectly pure. To bleach this substance, he 
 exposed it to the sun and air for a considerable time, previously 
 reduced to powder, and poured on it some diluted nitrous acid. 
 He then washed it repeatedly, and melted it with hot water, and 
 on allowing it to concrete, it became of a beautiful straw colour, 
 
 and had the agreeable smell of the best spermaceti. Gibbes 9 s 
 
 Observations on the Component parts of Ani??ial Matter s> 1796. 
 
 The difference in the substances, produced from the decom- 
 position of animal bodies in water, and their changes by putre- 
 faction in air, as well as under other different circumstances, is 
 explained by the laws of chemical affinity; which also prove, 
 how few the elementary substances are, which, by their various 
 combinations and affinities as secondary laws under the infinite 
 power of the greafTirst Cause, produce all the variety which 
 we perceive in animated and inanimate bodies. Animal and 
 vegetable matter, air, water, and many different solids and fluids, 
 are resolvable by chemistry into the different attractions and affi- 
 nities of a very few primary elements. The diamond is now 
 demonstrated to be only pure charcoal; and the difference be- 
 tween nitrous acid and the fluid, (atmospheric air) without 
 which animal life cannot for a short period be supported, to 
 consist only in different proportions of the same component 
 parts. Thus philosophical investigation serves powerfully to 
 enlarge our conception of final causes, and, consequently, of the 
 infinite wisdom of the Creator, and the sublime simplicity of 
 ftis works. 
 
[ 277 ] 
 
 hoofs, and such parts of the animals as are not 
 convertible into the spermaceti matter. 
 
 The summit of Hanham hill discloses an au- 
 * gust view, the most striking feature of which is 
 the vast city of Bristol spread through the bot- 
 tom, and rising with the acclivity to the right ; 
 but, like a faded beauty, wearing only the sem- 
 blance of former attractions, and deploring the 
 daily decrease of a trade, that is now wafting to 
 the more fortunate, spirited, and better situated 
 town of Liverpool. 
 
 From hence to Durdham-Down, the road may 
 be considered as one large suburb to the great 
 parent below, since it is a continuation of ham- 
 lets, houses, and seats, for three or four miles ; 
 the retreats of successful commerce and perse- 
 vering industry. The villages of Westbury and 
 Henbury succeed each other, at the distance of 
 a mile; both deriving their names from the 
 earth-works, which may be seen on the heights 
 of these respective parishes. The former also 
 is remarkable for its very ancient college, now 
 almost obliterated, and the tremendous cavern 
 called Pen-Park Hole, about a mile and half north- 
 east from the village ; the fatal gulph into 
 which the Rev. Thomas Newman, a minor 
 canon of Bristol Cathedral, was precipitated 
 
[ 278 ] 
 
 in 1775, in the sight of his sister, and the lady 
 to whom he was engaged to be married. Per- 
 haps no situation can be imagined more dis- 
 tressing, than that of the agonized spe£tators, 
 when they beheld, the youth to whom the one 
 was bound by the ties of natural affe£tion, and 
 the other by the stronger bonds of love, sud- 
 denly hurried away to inevitable destru£Hon; to 
 a destruction, of which the mind could forth no 
 definite idea, and which imagination, therefore, 
 clothed in tenfold horrors: — a severe and aw- 
 ful instance of the uncertainty of human 
 schemes of felicity, of the vanity of all antici- 
 pated happiness. The search made after the 
 body (which was not found till thirty-nine days 
 after the melancholy event) first gratified the 
 public curiosity with respeft to the interior of 
 this terrible pit, when it was discovered to be 
 two hundred and fifteen feet deep. A variety 
 of appearances, also, were observed which con- 
 curred to prove, that it was not a natural cavern, 
 but an artificial excavation ; probably a lead 
 mine, worked in very distant times. 
 
 ... The traveller's eye, as he proceeds, is attrafted 
 to the left by the beautiful park of Mr. Har- 
 ford's seat, called Blaze-castle. From the cen- 
 
[ 279 ] 
 
 tre of this inclosure rises a fine sugar-loaf hill, 
 the dark wooded sides of which conceal the 
 lower members of a Gothic castellated build- 
 ing, whose stately turrets appear above the 
 shade. It received the former part of its name 
 of Blaze-castle from the tradition of an ancient, 
 chapel having formerly existed on the summit 
 of the hill, dedicated to St. Blasius, bishop of 
 Sebasta, and patron of the wool-combers; the 
 adjunct castle \s more appropriate, as the build- 
 ing stands on the scite of a Roman castra, pro- 
 bably the work of Ostorius, when he built the 
 range of forts along the Avon and Severn, of 
 which Tacitus makes mention. The lofty emi- 
 nence on which the inn at King's-Weston is 
 placed, overlooks a prospeft, the variety and 
 beauty of which would well deserve descrip- 
 tion, were it not transcended in both respedls 
 by that seen from the park of Lord cle Clifford 
 in its immediate neighbourhood. This mansion 
 is a specimen of Sir John Vanburgh's architec- 
 ture, and bears testimony to the truth of the 
 satire on his style, implied in this epigram-* 
 matic epitaph : 
 
 " Lie light upon him, Earth, though he 
 €C Laid many a heavy load on thee!" 
 
 disgusting the eye, both within and without, by 
 
[ 280 ] 
 
 its weight and clumsiness. Had Sir John tried 
 his art in castles and pyramids, edifices which 
 were to resist the shocks of military operations, 
 and stru&ures that should endure as long as 
 time itself, he probably would have succeeded; 
 but he certainly mistook the path to fame, when 
 his taste led him to design domestic mansions; 
 in which, instead of massiveness and pondero- 
 sity, we only look for lightness and elegance, 
 just proportion and convenience. The ma- 
 nagement of the grounds, also, is not always 
 judicious. Nothing, indeed, could Spoil the 
 situation, which is on the. broad top of a hill, 
 with an immense traft of beautiful country 
 beneath it ; but the views from the different 
 fronts of the house are not sufficiently con- 
 trasted. One stretches down the Bristol Chan- 
 el 
 
 nel, and sweeps over the hills of Monmouth- 
 shire and Glamorgan; whilst another extends 
 itself up the river as far as Glocester; a third 
 is dire&ed to the park, which is here very auk- 
 ward ly left bare of trees, whereas it should 
 have been opposed to the variety and immen- 
 sity of the others by a thick plantation, in which 
 the vision, fatigued with distant objefts, might 
 have reposed itself in the quiet of a sylvan scene. 
 Upon the whole, however, the pleasure-grounds 
 
[ 281 ] 
 
 are very beautiful; five- hundred acres are in- 
 cluded within the paling, and several fine points 
 of view > the chief of which is that from Pen- 
 Pole, an eminence in the distant corner of the 
 park. It must not be forgotten, also, that the 
 green and hot houses are amongst the most 
 magnificent in the kingdom. However disap- 
 pointed we might have been with the house 
 itself, we were amply recompensed by its con- 
 tents ; many of the piftures and portraits being 
 works of the first masters, and originals of re- 
 markable chara£ters. A lofty square hall forms 
 the entrance into the house, hung with three 
 ranges of portraits. On the drawing-room, or 
 right hand side, we find, 
 
 Lewis Watson first Earl of Rockingham , who 
 died 1723. 
 
 Thomas sixth Earl of Thanet ; he established 
 his claim in the House of Peers to the barony 
 of Clifford in the year 1691; and was after- 
 wards sworn of the privy-council, and lord- 
 lieutenant of Salop. One instance, amongst 
 many, of his beneficence, was^a donation of a 
 large sum of money, during his life-time, to the 
 increasing of small church livings in York- 
 shire and Westmoreland. He married Catha- 
 rine, daughter of Henry Duke of Newcastle. 
 
: [ 282 ] 
 
 Another portrait of Lewis Watson first Earl of 
 Rockingham, a whole length, by Ramsay; the 
 drapery is by Van Baden.' 
 
 Catherine Watson, married to Sir Edw. South- 
 well. She was daughter of the lady whose 
 portrait occurs next, namely, 
 
 Catherine Countess of Rockingham, daughter of 
 Sir George Sondes Earl of Feversham, who 
 died Ann. Dom. 1695. The two last, also, are 
 whole lengths by the same masters. 
 
 On the side of the /W/ facing the entrance are, 
 
 Whole lengths, by Sir P. Lely, of three Earls 
 of Ardglass, Wingfield ^Cromwell, who married 
 Catherine Hamilton; Vere Essex Cromwell, who 
 died 1686, unmarried; and Thomas Cromwell, 
 who was born 1594, and died 1652; 
 
 Under these whole lengths are two half- 
 lengths, by Sir Peter Lely : 
 
 Heneage Finch Earl of Nottingham, every way 
 qualified for the situation of lord-chancellor, to 
 which he was appointed on the removal of the 
 profligate Shaftesbury. To the particulars of 
 this great man's character which I have already 
 given you, I would just add, that his brilliant 
 eloquence procured him the appellation of the 
 English Cicero, and English Roscius. In our 
 times, the title of the Farinelli of the bar has. 
 
[ 283 ] 
 
 been as happily applied to the late Lord Mans- 
 field, for his " honied periods/' and persuasive 
 rhetoric. 
 
 William Harvey. The painter has, in acute- 
 ness and solemnity of countenance, admirably 
 displayed the chara&er of this celebrated phy- 
 sician, who first discovered the circulation of 
 the blood. Steadily attached to the House of 
 Stuart, he attended Charles I. at the battle of 
 Edge-Hill, by whom he was rewarded with the 
 wardenship of Merton college, Oxford; a situ- 
 ation which he relinquished the year following 
 his presentation to it, when the parliamentarian 
 forces took possession of that city. Another 
 original portrait of him is preserved at the Col- 
 lege of Physicians, of which he was president. 
 Obiit 1 657, aged 80. — This painting seems to 
 have been made when he was advanced in years. 
 
 On the left hand side are the following 
 half-lengths: 
 
 Lady Elizabeth Cromwell, daughter and heiress 
 of Wingfield Cromwell Earl of Ardglass. On 
 the demise of Vere Essex Cronlwell without 
 issue, the title devolved to this lady, who mar- 
 ried Edward, son of Sir Rob. Southwell, and at 
 the coronation of Queen Anne was allowed pre- 
 cedence as Baroness Cromwell. She died 1 705. 
 
[ 284 ] 
 
 The Right Honourable Edward Southwell, born 
 1706, died 1755. 
 
 Edward Southwell, son of Sir Robert South- 
 well, born 1674; a finished gentleman, and an 
 esteemed scholar, according to Anthony Wood, 
 who calls him doStissirnusjuvenis. He was clerk 
 ofthe council extraord. in 1693, and died 1734. 
 
 Sir Richard Southzvell, of Woodrising ; a fine 
 head, by Hans Holbein. 
 
 Helena Gore, (a portrait by Vandyke) daughter 
 of Major Gore, of Sherston, Wilts, who married 
 Robert Southwell, and died 1679, aged 66. 
 
 Robert Southwell, her husband; who died 
 1677, aged 70. 
 
 Sir Robert Southwell-, knighted by Charles II. 
 during whose reign he filled the office of envoy 
 extraordinary at thfe courts of the King of Por- 
 tugal, the Viceroy of the Spanish Netherlands, 
 and the Ele&or of Brandenburgh. For this 
 diplomatic service he obtained the appoint- 
 ments of commissioner of the customs in Eng- 
 land, of secretary of state for Ireland, and of a 
 member of the privy council, an honour the 
 more distinguished, as he had in early life been 
 one of the clerks of that board. He was also 
 president of the Royal Society, and father [of 
 the accomplished Edward Southwell before 
 
[ 285 ] 
 
 mentioned. He purchased King's- Weston of 
 Sir Humphry Hook, and died 1702. 
 
 Elizabeth Dering, wife of Sir Robert South- 
 well, and eldest daughter of Sir E. Dering, of 
 Surrenden-Dering, in the county of Kent, bart. 
 She died in 1681, aged 33. 
 
 From the hall we are introduced into the 
 green-room, where we find portraits of, 
 
 Edward Southzvell, by Sir Godfrey Kneller. 
 
 James second Duke of Ormond y son of Thomas 
 Lord Ossory. Having shared in a variety of 
 events, both in support of, and in opposition to, 
 the ruling powers, he was attainted by Parlia- 
 ment, and died an exile in France 1746. His 
 estates escheated to the crown ; but by a subse- 
 quent aft of parliament were vested by pur- 
 chase in his brother, Charles Butler Earl of 
 Arran, who bore several high stations in the 
 state and army, and attained the dignities of 
 chancellor of the University of Oxford, and 
 high-steward of Westminster. He resigned 
 the office of master of the ordnance on the 
 death of Queen Anne, and died 1758, aged 88. 
 
 William Ashburnham, by Sir Peter Lely. 
 
 Mrs. Southwell, maid of honour to Queen 
 Elizabeth; a curious original portrait.- — Below 
 her is Mary Queen of Scots, by Holbein. 
 
[ 528G J 
 
 Thomas Cromwell Earl of Essex, by Holbein; 
 engraved by Houbraken in his illustrious heads. 
 Over this is, Sir Gawen Carey, or Carew, one of 
 the knights of Henry Vlllth's reign of splen- 
 dour, pageantry, feasting, and cruelty. 
 
 Opposite to the windows' are, 
 
 Sir John Per rival; a man whose talents were 
 sufficient to recommend him to the favour of 
 Oliver Cromwell, though his father remained a 
 steady adherent to Charles. Being appointed, 
 together with Fleetwood, to settle the divisions 
 in Ireland, he conduced himself so much to 
 the satisfa&ion of his employers, as to be re- 
 warded on his return with the restoration of his 
 sequestrated property, and the office of clerk 
 of the Crown- and Common-Pleas. He married 
 Catherine, daughter of Robert Southwell, of 
 Kinsale. This portrait was painted 1665. 
 
 John the first Earl of Egmont, he projedled the 
 plan of a settlement of Europeans at Georgia^ 
 then peopled by Indians only; for which pur- 
 pose he obtained a charter in 1732, and was 
 nominated the first president. He died 1748. 
 
 Sir Philip Per rival, eldest son of Sir John 
 Percival before mentioned ; a young man of 
 great promise and expe&ation, but taken off in 
 the prime gf life by poison, administered by a 
 
[ 287 ] 
 
 hand unknown. Lord Egmont, in his history 
 of the f House of Yvery,' has given a full ac- 
 count of this transaction, and other particulars 
 of Sir Philip's family. 
 
 Thomas Earl of Ossory, equally qualified to 
 shine in the camp or at court, in the tumult of 
 war, or amidst the elegancies of peace; of un- 
 bounded courage, singular modesty, and in- 
 flexible integrity. He died in 1680, at the age 
 of 46. The noblest testimony of his worth was 
 given by his afflifted father, when he declared, 
 that he would not exchange his dead son for 
 any living son in Christendom. 
 
 On the right hand side of the room, next the 
 windows, is a curious painting, containing 
 two portraits, Sir Edward Hyde, and his wife, 
 with the initials E. H. and the date 1579. 
 
 Sir Richard Southwell, 1585. 
 
 Richard Southwell, a fine old head 3 probably 
 the favourite of Henry VIII. who made him one 
 of the executors of his will. 
 
 Charles Howard Earl of Nottingham, lord high 
 admiral of England; a deservedly-esteemed fa* 
 vourite of Queen Elizabeth, to the splendour 
 of whose annals, his abilities, as a naval com- 
 mander, contributed largely, In 1588, he de- 
 stroyed the Spanish Armada, the remembrance 
 
[ 288 ] 
 
 of which atchievement is preserved in the ta<* 
 pestry hangings of the House of Lords, exe- 
 cuted by Francis Spiering, from designs of Cor- 
 nelius Vroom. The year 1596 added another 
 triumph to his list of victories— the capture of 
 Cadiz, and the burning of the Spanish fleet. 
 Being a man of great splendour and expence, 
 he was sent by the peaceful James ambassador 
 into Spain, where he made his entree with a 
 retinue of five hundred persons, to the great 
 astonishment, of the Spaniards, who did not ex- 
 pect such taste and magnificence from a nation 
 of heretics. He died 1624, aged 87; having 
 married Catherine, daughter of Henry Lord 
 Hunsdon, by whom he had two sons and three 
 daughters, of which the eldest, Elizabeth, mar- 
 ried Sir Robert Southwell, (before mentioned) 
 of Woodrising in Norfolk. 
 
 Thomas Earl of Strafford, 1640; painted the 
 year before his execution. He forms a promi- 
 nent feature in the reign of Charles I. distin- 
 guished in the outset of life by professions of 
 patriotism, which were soon converted into 
 most determined support and furtherance of 
 the measures pursued at the period when he 
 lived. Whilst lord-deputy of Ireland, in the 
 true spirit of a proselyte, he adopted a£ts of 
 
[ m ] 
 
 rigour and oppression beyond all precedent and 
 endurance ; the severity of his government drew 
 forth the execrations of the nation, and could% 
 not secure him the prote&ion of the sovereign; 
 although whilst in confinement, he received 
 assurances that he should not suffer in life, 
 honour, or estate. When informed, therefore, 
 that the king had granted a commission to pass 
 the bill of attainder, he exclaimed, " Put not 
 your trust in princes, nor in the sons of men, 
 for in them there is no salvation. " Our detes- 
 tation of b the crimes of the man must for the 
 moment subside, whilst we admire the magna- 
 nimity of the hero in the hour of expiation: 
 the lieutenant of the Tower offered him a 
 coach to convey him to the scaffold, lest he 
 should be torn to pieces by the populace, but 
 he replied, " I die to please the people, and am 
 " willing to die in their own way!" 
 
 Sir William Godolphin, under-secretary to Ben- 
 net Earl of Arlington, and a zealous supporter 
 of prerogative j he succeeded Edward Earl of 
 Sandwich as ambassador to Madrid, where he 
 embraced the Catholic faith, in which he died. 
 
 Sir Nicholas Bacon, lord-keeper in the reign of 
 Queen Mary, and the first of that title who 
 ranked as lord-chancellor; more distinguished, 
 
[ 290 ] 
 
 liowever, as the father of Francis Lord Vein- 
 lam, to whom he was as inferior in legal and 
 philosophical knowledge, as he was superior in 
 rigid and inflexible integrity. He died 1 579. 
 
 Edward Hyde Earl of Clarendon, lord-chancel- 
 lor. In a colle&ian of portraits, we naturally 
 look for the likeness of this nobleman; the ad- 
 mission is a tribute indisputably due to the * 
 greatest moral painter of the age in which he 
 lived, such certainly was Lord Clarendon, who 
 has left us full lengths. of the court of Charles I. 
 drawn with less of the artist's licence than 
 could be expected from one who had been so 
 actively employed in those days of party jea- 
 lousy and intrigue. Charles II. gave him the 
 title of Chancellor of England; his writings 
 have secured him that of chancellor of human 
 nature. It has been said of him, that he wrote 
 for prerogative; it must in truth be added, that 
 he acted for liberty. Obiit 1674. 
 
 Charles I. (small) by Vandyke. 
 
 Charles If. by Sir Peter Lely; an extremely 
 fine painting, particularly in point of drapery. 
 
 Head of Saint Peter, and its companion, by 
 Rembrandt. 
 
 A very fine bronze antique, nearly as large 
 as life, of Antinous, the pathic and freedman of > 
 
[ 291 ] 
 
 Adrian; which our female cicerone, by a most 
 whimsical string of misnomers, converted into 
 Antoninus, the friend of Alexander the Great. 
 
 Portrait of S' Gravesmaar, lieut.-general; a 
 noble Dutchman, whose family is at present 
 one of the most respe6table in Holland. 
 
 In the breakfast-room are the portraits of 
 
 Sarah Duchess of Marlborough, daughter of 
 Richard Jennings, esq; of Sunbridge in Hert- 
 fordshire. Her Grace's chara&er will be found 
 in the busy political reign of the high church 
 Anne, in almost e^ery year of which she ap- 
 pears to have been a£lively employed. Guided 
 by the mistaken policy of preferring gain to fame, 
 she at last fell a sacrifice to the enemies which 
 a favourite's situation naturally created, and which 
 her unbounded avarice had too successfully 
 encouraged. " She lived to feel herself the neg- 
 lefted subjeft of that monarch to whom she had 
 so long appeared as chief adviser; and died 
 immensely rich,, but entirely unlamented, in 
 1744, aged 85. 
 
 Mrs. Ashbumliam, afterwards the wife of > 
 Edward Bering. 
 
 Lady Clifford's dressing-room contains a choice 
 colleftion of fine paintings and curious minia- 
 tures; amongst the former are, 
 
[ 292 ] 
 
 Landscape, by Salvator Rosa. — Four Views 
 of Venice, by Carnaletti.— Landscape, by 
 Poussin. — Sea-Piece, with setting sun, and a 
 Landscape, by Claude Lorraine. — Two large 
 Landscapes, by Poussin. — Dead Christ, by Mi- 
 chael Angelo Buonarotti. — Dying Cleopatra, 
 by Guido. — Holy Family, by Titian. 
 
 The miniatures are inlaid in the doors of two 
 cabinets; that on the right hand of the en- 
 trance contains, 
 
 George Earl of Cumberland, richly dressed in 
 armour studded with gold, one of the distin- 
 guished ornaments of Queen Elizabeth's court; 
 he was amongst the many gallant noblemen of 
 that reign, who volunteered aboard the fleet to 
 oppose the invincible Armada, as it was styled; 
 and performed no less than eleven voyages, at 
 his own expence, in order to harrass the Spanish 
 enemy. A whole length of this hero, clad for 
 the tournament, and the rich armour in which 
 he was accoutred upon these gala .occasions, are 
 still carefully preserved at Appleby-Castle. 
 
 Margaret Sackville Countess of Thane t, she 
 married 
 
 John second Earl of Thanet> who appears to 
 have compounded for his estates in 1654 for 
 the sum of nine thousand pounds, with the se- 
 
[ Q93 ] 
 
 questrators appointed by the rebel Parliament. 
 He died in 1676, and left twelve children. 
 
 Lady Ann Clifford, daughter of the above- 
 mentioned George Earl of Cumberland, and 
 inheritor of all his spirit and generosity. Of 
 the former, a lively trait is preserved in her let- 
 ter to Sir Joseph Williamson, printed in the 
 c Noble Authors to the latter, many founda- 
 tions and endowments in Westmoreland and 
 Yorkshire still bear testimony. She was first 
 married to Richard Earl of Dorset, whose life 
 she has written, and afterwards to Philip Earl 
 of Pembroke and Montgomery. 
 
 Lady Margaret Coventry, one of the twelve 
 children of John second Earl of Thanet; she 
 married George third J^ord Coventry. 
 
 The cabinet to the left hand contains, 
 
 Mrs. Pert ; and under it 
 
 Queen Elizabeth, a very curious miniature, not 
 larger than a sixpence ; probably a token be- 
 stowed on and worn by one of her favourites. 
 
 Mr s.Southwell, Lady liodney. 
 
 Prince Rupert, nephew of Charles I. to whose 
 assistance he came from Holland, about the 
 time that the king erefted his standard at Not- 
 tingham; if intrepidity and resolute courage had 
 been the only essentials to secure viftory, he 
 
[ 294 ] 
 
 would have been a more successful comman- 
 der than he even proved. His temerity fre- 
 quently lost him the advantage which his cou- 
 rage generally procured him in the outset of 
 a battle. Charles seems to have a£ted as in- 
 temperately as unwisely, when he deprived 
 Rupert of his commissions, for too early a sur- 
 render of the city of Bristol to Sir Thomas 
 Fairfax. Obiit 1682. 
 
 General Monk. — Earl of Ardglass, very small 
 and curious. — Charles % superbly dressed. 
 Robert Southwell, of Kinsale. 
 Ann of Denmark, queen of James I. with gold- 
 en locks; one of those chara£ters mentioned by 
 Mr. Granger, as never reaching beyond me- 
 diocrity, by any other circumstance of her life 
 than her rank as a queen. 
 
 General Monk, smaller than the former. 
 Henry Cavendish Duke of Newcastle, father of 
 Catherine who married Thomas Earl of Thanet. 
 Thomas W mtworth Earl of Strafford. 
 Within this cabinet is a very costly and rare 
 golden medal, bearing on the only side which 
 we could see, the head of Thomas Lord Crom- 
 well, with this inscription — -Imago D. Thoma 
 Cromwell Reg. Secret. Created visitor-general 
 of the monasteries, and Earl of Essex, Crom^ 
 
I 295 ] 
 
 well was first made the instrument of Henry 
 Vlllth's sacrilegious injustice, and then be- 
 came the vi£iim of his cruelty and disappoint- 
 ment, for having recommended to his throne 
 and bed a Flanders mare, as the monarch styJed 
 his unfortunate wife Anne of Cleeves. 
 
 The ante-room contains, 
 
 Venus and Cupid, a beautiful painting, by 
 Correggio; the arch expression in the counte- 
 nance of the former, and the childish roguery 
 in that of Cupid, are incomparable. 
 
 Madona and Child, by Guercino. — Samson 
 and Dalilah,byG.Poussin. — Venus and Cupid, 
 by Guido.— Christ and Woman of Samaria, 
 large painting, by Carlo Maratti. 
 
 Over the chimney-piece in the library is the 
 whole length portrait of Sir Thomas Southwell, 
 of Ireland, in a sporting dress, with his dog and 
 gun. He was the son of Richard Southwell, 
 and died 1626. 
 
 The dining-room concludes the rich repast, and 
 contains the jewels of the colle£Hon; they are, 
 
 St. Jerome, by Hannibal Carracci. 
 
 St. Cecilia, by Dominichino, which, in spite 
 of the absurdity of the subje6f, cannot be con- 
 templated without astonishment and delight. 
 Cecilia is represented playing on a violon- 
 
[ .296 ] 
 
 cello, with a boy before her holding up an open 
 music-book. Nothing can be more exquisite 
 than the countenance of the saint, whose eyes 
 are lifted up to heaven in rapturous devotion. 
 
 John in the Wilderness, a grand pifture, ex- 
 hibiting, in a striking manner, the powerful 
 effe£t of strongly contrasted light and shade. 
 It is said to be by Raphael 3 but may, perhaps, 
 with as much probability, be given to Andrea 
 del Sarto, who is said to have copied the works 
 of this artist so exquisitely, as sometimes to 
 have deceived even the master himself. 
 
 Susannah and Elders, by Rubens, with his 
 usual strength of colouring. — Hermit and 
 Rocks, by Salvator Rosa, in his darkest style. 
 
 The Wise-Men's Offering ; a Head ; and a 
 Cardinal's Head; by Titian. — Portraits of two 
 Painters, by one of the Carracci. 
 
 Holy Family, by Raphael. 
 
 Returning through Henbury, w r e enter upon 
 the road which, presently diverging, condufts 
 by different ways to the Old and New Passages 
 across the Severn, where travellers, their cattle, 
 and carriages are accommodated with boats 
 for their conveyance, of various sizes, according 
 to the weather or the freight. Our route Jay 
 
[ 297 ] 
 
 to the former, to which superior conveniences 
 appear to induce a greater resort. Here the 
 master of the inn, catching a hint from an 
 enemy, has established a telegraph, which, com- 
 municating by signals with a similar machine 
 on the other side of the Severn, prepares every 
 accommodation for the traveller, who is about 
 to pass the river 3 whilst the opposite tele- 
 graph performs the same kind offices for him 
 who wishes to pass from the Monmouthshire to 
 the Glocestershire bank. It was at this point 
 of the Severn that Publius Ostorius Scapula, 
 (who succeeded Aulus Plautius in the govern- 
 ment of Britain in the year 5 1 or t%) established 
 a passage into South- Wales for the conveyance 
 of the legions over it; a faft acknowledged by 
 all antiquaries, and corroborated by the ancient 
 name of this place, Oster-Clive, an evident cor- 
 ruption of the Prsenomen Ostorius. In little 
 more than sixty years after its establishment, 
 the passage became of greater importance, since 
 it served for the conveyance of the iron ore 
 which was dug up in the Forest of Dean, car- 
 ried to Bath, and manufaftured there at the 
 fabrica y or great military college, ere&ed by 
 Hadrian, to supply the legionaries of the wes- 
 ter^ parts of Britain with implements of war. 
 
[ m ] 
 
 The Old-Passage, also, is memorable on ano- 
 ther occasion. Here Edward the elder passed 
 a night when he journeyed into Glocestershire 
 to hold a conference with Leolme, prince of 
 South- Wales. The pride of the \Velshman, 
 however, would not allow him to cross the 
 Severn in order to meet the Saxon ; and Edward 
 was content to forego his own dignity, and pass 
 the river to Beachley, the opposite point. This 
 aft of condescension had its proper effe£t on 
 Leoline, who, ashamed of his own condu6t, as 
 the king approached the shore, rushed breast 
 high into the water, and seizing the prow of 
 the boat, is said" to have exclaimed, " Wisest of 
 M monarchs, behold the victory of humility over 
 " pride, of wisdom over folly. Ascend that 
 u neck, which has been vainly exalted against 
 " superior merit; and enter triumphantly into 
 " a country which virtue like yours is alone 
 " worthy to govern." Then taking Edward 
 upon his shoulders, he carried him to the shore, 
 placed him upon his owp royal robes, and did 
 . him homage for the principality. The Severn, 
 which spreads itself into a noble stream con- 
 siderably above Aust, and extends above a mile 
 in breadth in that point, would be a river of beau- 
 ty equal to its magnitude, were it not deformed 
 
[ 299 ] 
 
 by the muddy ochreous tinge of its waters; a 
 circumstance that has occasioned it to be likened 
 to the river Alpheus after it had performed the 
 purgation of the Augean stables. This colour 
 it receives from the ferruginous clay through 
 which it flows; (for the forest of Dean, whose 
 foundation it washes, is nothing more than one 
 immense bed of iron ore; and the banks of the 
 Severn, on each side, exhibit one dark stratum 
 of red soil for many miles.) Its bottom is formed 
 of grey limestone rocks, which having parted 
 with the earth that filled their interstices, 'dis- 
 play at the ebb a shaggy rugged bed, whose 
 crags and prominences occasion the eddies and 
 turbulence which continually disfigure its sur- 
 face. In these rocky ledges are frequent hol- 
 lows, where, at very low tides, a variety of 
 vegetable and mineral articles are discovered 
 jumbled together in singular confusion; such 
 as beech-mast, acorns, filberts, the stones of 
 the plumb, cherry, and all English fruits ; masses 
 of wood, stone, and coal, rounded by attrition. 
 Of this latter article the quantity is so great as 
 to be sufficient for the purposes of the lime- 
 kilns upon the banks of this part of the Severn. 
 The Cliff at Aust Passage also exhibits some 
 curious mineralogical appearances. It is com- 
 
[ 300 ] 
 
 posed of two strata of clay; the upper of a 
 blue, the under one of a red tinge. These rest 
 upon a grey limestone rock ; but unbedded 
 in the lower stratum is one of gypsum, of great 
 depth, and astonishing extent, continued thro 5 
 the counties of Monmouth and Glamorgan, 
 and stretching as far to the west as Tenby in 
 Pembrokeshire; an inexhaustible mine to the 
 plaisterers of Bath, Bristol, and the other neigh- 
 bouring places ; who having previously calcined 
 it, afterwards render it firm and solid, by pouring 
 cold water upon it. It is then called alabaster, 
 and becomes capable of receiving a fine polish ; 
 or being mixed with lime is used as a finer 
 kind of mortar. Its dip is to the south-east, 
 and appears to be about thirty degrees. Two 
 small veins of sulphate of strontian* occur like- 
 
 f Sulphate of str@ntian, so called in the language of the new 
 chemistry, (from its being a compound of sulphuric acid and 
 strontian earth) is found in considerable quantities at Redland, 
 near Bristol, at Aust-Passage, and at Sodbury in Glocestershire; 
 as well as in the different parts of England, and in foreign coun- 
 tries. The varieties found in the former situations have under- 
 gone a very complete analysis, by that excellent chemist Mr. W. 
 Clayfield, of Bristol; and he has published a paper on the sub 
 iect in a volume of Contributions to Physical and Medical 
 Knowledge, by Dr. Beddoes. Mr. Clayfield concludes that 
 the fibrous variety of sulphate of strontian contains, in zoo parts, of 
 
 Strontian 116.5 
 
 Acid 83 . 5 — 2 co 
 
 With a small proportion of iron. 
 
[ 301 ] 
 
 wise at this spot, running in a perpendicular 
 dire&ion through the strata of clay. One of 
 these is found at the commencement of the 
 cliff close to the well of water, but this is very 
 diminutive. The other presents itself opposite 
 to the pier, and measures in breadth about 
 four inches. 
 
 The flat country that spreads from the Severn 
 to the south, from Aust through Oldbury to 
 Thornbury, displays as rich a soil, and as good 
 husbandry, as any part of England; and their 
 natural accompaniment, a wealthy yeomanry, 
 and comfortable peasantry. As we approach 
 the latter place the trap or toad-stone appears 
 in great profusion, forming, indeed, the basis 
 of the county ; and offering, from its situation, 
 a strong proof against the opinion of those who 
 consider it as a volcanic produ£Hon. 
 
 Thornbury-Castle is a monument of the afflu- 
 ence and splendour of Edward Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, who fell a sacrifice to the tyranny 
 of Henry VIII. Submission might probably 
 have averted the vengeance of the king, but 
 Buckingham scorned to save his life by losing 
 his honour ; he was therefore beheaded ; and, 
 amongst other magnificent unexecuted plans, 
 
t 303 ] 
 
 left the castle' at Thornbury an unfinished struc- 
 ture. The body of the castle, according to his 
 design, would have formed a square, with three 
 large polygonal towers and two smaller ones* 
 in front; the former of these machicolated. 
 Before this a large base court spreads itself, 
 ninety-five yards in breadth and eighty-five in 
 length, around which were constructed barracks 
 for the soldiery; a similar area stretches to the 
 back of the castle. One of these towers is fitted 
 up to accommodate the steward of the estate 
 and manor, which at present belong to the Duke 
 of Norfolk, and over the entrance adjoining it 
 is the following notification of the time when 
 the building was constructed: — 
 
 u This gate was begun in the yere of oure Lord Gode 
 e< mcccccxi, the ii yere of the reyne of Kynge Henrie 
 u the yiii, by one Edw. Duk of Bukkingham Erie of Hart- 
 " ford, StrafForde, ande Northampton." 
 
 Close to the south of the castle, (which stands 
 quite at the northern extremity of the straggling 
 town that it adorns) is the church, a regular 
 and curious Gothic pile; the tow r er of which is 
 particularly beautiful. The battlements, re- 
 lieved by lancet-like perforations, assume an 
 unusual appearance of lightness, which is in- 
 creased by the elegant addition of an open- 
 
[ 303 ] 
 
 Work stone lanthern at each corner of the pa- 
 rapet, crowned with a sharp cymatium top. 
 Buckingham, much pleased with this part of 
 England, intended to have resided chiefly at 
 this castle, and to have made the church colle- 
 giate, with a dean and prebends; but the cruel 
 caprice of Henry at once destroyed the Duke's 
 speculations, and prevented the consideration 
 that would have attached to Thornbury from 
 the possession of a chapter. 
 
 Much variety of country, and interesting 
 scenery, are offered to the traveller in his ride 
 from this place to Berkeley, a distance of nine 
 miles; the Severn, with its playful windings 
 and rich banks^ opening occasionally to the 
 left* and the grand hills of Stinchcomb, Fro- 
 cester, &c. swelling out of a highly-cultivated 
 and populous country to the right. The au- 
 gust castle attrafts attention as we approach 
 the village, venerable on account of its antiquity, 
 and awful from its haying been the scene of 
 one of the most atrocious murders recorded 
 in English history. It is situated at the 
 southern extremity of the park, on a gentle ri- 
 sing of the ground, whfch gives it a view not 
 only over the grounds in its neighbourhood, 
 
[ 304 ] 
 
 but also of a large tra£l of distant country — the 
 fertile fields of Gloucestershire, the reaches of 
 the Severn, and the mountains of Monmouth- 
 shire. Founded originally in the reign of 
 Henry I. by Roger de Berkeley, and compleated 
 in that of Stephen, by Roger the third Earl of 
 Berkeley, it has been preserved ever since en- 
 tire and unaltered, except in some little circum- 
 stances which modern ideas of convenience 
 demanded; and exhibits, therefore, the most 
 compleat specimen of ancient Norman military 
 architecture in the kingdom. The noble owner 
 has fitted up the interior in a manner consistent 
 with the style of its venerable outside, judici- 
 ously excluding ^11 modern knick-knacks, and 
 admitting nothing in the line of furniture which 
 does not associate with the ideas of feudal 
 times, and old English grandeur. An ancient 
 gateway opens into the base court; through 
 which we enter the hall, a fine old raftered 
 toom, with a gallery at one end, for the ac- 
 commodation of the minstrelsy on days of high 
 carouzing. From this apartment, a small 
 passage condufts us to the ancient chapel of 
 the castle, long since decayed, lined with oak; 
 having a gallery for the heads of the family 
 to sit in during prayers, and* a confessional 
 
[ 305 ] 
 
 for their use, when the stock of sin, becoming 
 too heavy for the conscience, was to be removed* 
 by the wonder-working absolution of the ac- 
 commodating priest. 
 
 Connected with the chapel is the dining-room, 
 wainscoated with oak, its cieling divided into 
 square compartments by massive rafters of the 
 same wood, and its walls decorated with ordi- 
 nary full lengths, painted on wood, and pro- 
 bably imaginary, of 
 
 George Earl of Berkeley, great great grand- 
 father to the present Earl. — Jamesl. — Jane Shore* 
 — -Robert Fitzhar ding and a picture of Rubens 
 over the chimney. 
 
 Here too are seen a sopha and chairs, which, 
 together with a bedstead in an adjoining room, 
 made of ebony and cane- work, formed the cabin 
 furniture of Sir Francis Drake, to whom the 
 Berkeley family had the honour of being related. 
 
 The drawing-room is low and small y but hand* 
 somely, though judiciously, furnished; and or- 
 namented with the following portraits : 
 
 Thomas Earl of Strafford. 
 
 Charles Earl of Berkeley. 
 
 Mary Countess of Inchiquiri> a portrait rich* 
 beautiful, and soft. She was daughter of Sir B* 
 
[ 306 ] 
 
 Villiers, sister to the first Earl of Jersey, and 
 wife of William Earl of Inchiquin, 1 700. 
 
 Louisa Countess of Berkeley, grandmother to the 
 present Lord. 
 
 Ann Hyde Duchess of York, daughter of Lord 
 Chancellor Clarendon, and the first wife of the 
 bigotted James II. when Duke of York. An 
 early death fortunately prevented her from par- 
 ticipating the miseries of her husband's che- 
 quered fortune. Obiit 1 67 1 .—This is probably 
 the work of Sir Peter Lely. 
 
 Mary D'Este> (over the chimney) the adopted 
 daughter of Lewis XIV. by whom she was 
 portioned to James II. before he ascended the 
 throne of England. Her bigotry, haughty car- 
 riage, and intriguing spirit, contributed greatly 
 to encourage her besotted spouse in the pro- 
 secution of plans which he had weakness 
 enough to projeft, without ability to carry into 
 effe£i. With every inclination to enslave the 
 minds, and subvert the liberties, of his subje&s, 
 he did not possess capacity or art to disguise 
 his designs. When this combination of wicked- 
 ness and folly (to which almost every page of 
 his history bears testimony) obliged him to re- 
 linquish a crown that he was unfit to wear, he 
 retired, with his queen, to the palace of Saint 
 
L 307 ] 
 
 Germains, where she died 171 8, having en- 
 joyed many comforts from the generosity of 
 the French monarch. 
 
 Christina, wife of John first Lord Berkeley, of 
 Stratton, daughter and co-heiress of Sir Andrew 
 Riccard, president of the East-India Company, 
 and widow of Henry Rich, son of Henry Earl 
 of Holland. She died in 1698, leaving three 
 sons and a daughter. 
 
 Charles y eldest son of John first Lord Berkeley, 
 of Stratton, and the above-mentioned Christina; 
 he died on board his Majesty's ship Tyger, 
 which he commanded, 1682. This portrait is 
 by Sir Peter Lely. 
 
 Lady Henrietta, fifth daughter of George first 
 Earl of Berkeley ; a lady, for the ample detail of 
 whose amours I must refer you to the State- 
 Trials, where you will find a chara&er exhibit- 
 ing a perfe£l model of all that can disgrace hu- 
 man nature. After having alienated the affec- 
 tions of her sister's husband, Ford Lord Grey,, 
 from his wife, and brought indelible disgrace 
 on her family by her own open criminal inter- 
 course with him, her distracted parents still 
 wished to recover their abandoned child, and 
 summoned the paramour to surrender her in 
 court, She accordingly appeared,, but shame- 
 
[ 308 ] 
 
 lessly set aside her father's claim upon her per- 
 son, by declaring herself the wife of a profli- 
 gate wretch named Turner. Notwithstanding 
 the previous marriage of this man to another 
 woman was clearly proved, the court did not 
 consider itself empowered to deliver the child 
 to her natural guardian, by withholding the 
 wife from her husband ; but recommended a pro- 
 secution for bigamy and perjury, and committed 
 him to prison; w r here being accompanied by 
 Henrietta, they cohabited as man and wife. In 
 the portrait before us, the lady is represented 
 with a basket of flowers in her hand, which she 
 has just received from a little black boy, who 
 stands behind her. The eager enquiring coun- 
 tenance of the latter well expresses his suspi- 
 cions (which were too well founded) of a letter 
 from her paramour, Lord Grey, being concealed 
 under the flowers. 
 
 John first Lord Berkeley, of Strait on, a title con- 
 ferred on him by Charles II. because he had 
 obtained at that place a signal vi£tory over the 
 king's enemies. Though faithful, a£tive, and 
 useful in his services to Charles I. he had never 
 been countenanced by that monarch in propor- 
 tion to his deserts. Not suffering, however, 
 the ungenerous condu£t of the father to alienate 
 
[ 309 ] 
 
 his regards from the son, he firmly attached 
 himself to the fortunes of this monarch both 
 before and after his restoration, and was re- 
 warded for fiis fidelity by the lord-lieutenancy 
 of Ireland, and by being appointed ambas- 
 sador to the French King. He died in 1678, 
 at the age of 71, The portrait is by Vandyke^ 
 Frances Countess of Tyrconnel, daughter of R. 
 Jennings, esq; of Sundridge, Herts, and widow 
 of Sir George Hamilton, brother to the well- 
 known writer of < Grammont's Memoirs/ In 
 this work, the chara&er of Frances is drawn, 
 together with all the other personages distin- 
 guished at the period when Hamilton shone 
 the gallant gay Lothario of Charles the Second's 
 court. She was elder sister to Sarah Duchess 
 of Marlborough, and wife of Richard Earl of 
 Tyrconnel, viceroy of Ireland, whose annals ex- 
 hibit innumerable instances of the complying 
 spirit of this Popish delegate of a Popish 
 prince. You may, perhaps, recolleft, that tyjhv 
 Pennant, in his account of London, relates a 
 singular anecdote of this lady; that she sup- 
 ported herself for a few days, at the New Ex- 
 change, in the charafter of a milliner, disguised 
 in a white dress, and a white mask, which 
 gained her the name of the white zvidow. 
 
[ 310 J 
 
 A small beautiful whole length of a female, 
 in Sir Peter Lely's best manner. 
 
 Mary Lady Berkeley y one of the maids of ho- 
 nour to Queen Mary, who married Thomas 
 Chambers, esq> of Hanworth, Middlesex. 
 
 A beautiful highly-finished small portrait, 
 called Fair Rosamond^ evidently a fancy piece. 
 
 The library contains a few books, and a mo- 
 del in box- wood of the sixty-four gun ship in 
 which Admiral Berkeley first hoisted his 'flag. 
 The whole is curiously put together with pins, 
 and bears a noble testimony to the perseve- 
 rance and ingenuity of the Margravine of An- 
 spach, (Lord B.'s sister) by whom it was con- 
 strufted. 
 
 In the breakfast-room we have a small paint- 
 ing on marble, of the Wise-Men's Offering, 
 said to have cost five hundred guineas. 
 
 Landscape, by SalVator Rosa. — Two Land- 
 scapes, by Wouverman. — Small Landscape, by 
 Claude. — Landscape, by Polenberg, — A fine 
 Circumcision, by Basani. — Fruit and Flower 
 Piece, by Baptiste/ 
 
 The white dressing-room contains the following 
 curious miniatures, beginning from the left, and 
 proceeding to the right: 
 
 Baron Lord Berkeley. 
 
[ 3ii ] 
 
 Oliver Cromwell-, an admirable head. 
 
 Lady Margaret Berkeley, grand-daughter of 
 Maurice Lord Berkeley, who married Sir Lewis 
 Pollard. 
 
 Earl of Berkeley ; in the costume of the com- 
 mencement of the seventeenth century. 
 Lord Berkeley, 1601. 
 
 Queen Elizabeth playing on a guitar , small 
 and curious. 
 
 Lady Elizabeth Coke, sister of George first 
 Lord Berkeley, and wife of Edward, grandson 
 of the Lord Chief- Justice Coke. She died 1661. 
 
 George Gary Lord Hunsdon, conne&ed with 
 the Berkeleys by the marriage of his only daugh- 
 ter and heiress, Elizabeth, with Thomas Lord 
 Berkeley, who left her a widow in 161 o. This 
 nobleman, who enjoyed various places of great 
 profit and high honour, was son of Henry Lord 
 Hunsdon, the near relation and distinguished ' 
 favourite of Elizabeth, by whom he was in- 
 dulged with a visit in one of her progresses 5 
 a method she adopted, not unsuccessfully, to 
 diminish the accumulating wealth of her sub- 
 je£ts. This politic precaution of the deep- 
 thinking monarch would have been unnecessa- 
 rily employed on the last peer of this family, 
 who was bound apprentice to a weaver, and 
 
[ 312 ] 
 
 had served as a private soldier, though raised 
 from the ranks before the title devolved to him, 
 A second miniature of Elizabeth, larger than 
 the former, 
 
 Elizabeth Countess of Berkeley, one of the co- 
 heiresses of John Massingberd, of Lincoln- 
 shire, and wife of George Earl of Berkeley; 
 painted by Cooper iij 1644, 
 
 Henry Lord Berkeley, An.Dom. 1601; painted 
 when he was twenty-one years of age. 
 
 A third miniature of Elizabeth-, exhibiting 
 in the richness of her dress that vanity which 
 made her at once ridiculous and contemptible, 
 Her red perriwig is here very visible. 
 
 George Lord Berkeley of Carye, Anno Domini 
 1 6 1 9 . He married Elizabeth, daughter and co- 
 heiress of Sir Michael Stanhope, by whom he 
 was father to George first Lord Berkeley. He 
 died 1658. 
 
 ' Jjady Elizabeth Berkeley, his wife. 
 
 Lady Theophila, wife of Sir Robert Coke, 
 daughter of Thomas Lord Berkeley and Lady 
 Elizabeth Gary.— Queen Mary. 
 
 Sir William Berkeley, son of Thomas fifth 
 Lord Berkeley, of Stratton, with the words pig- 
 nora amicitia. He died in 1677, and was buried 
 at Twickenham. 
 
[ 313 ] 
 
 Thomas fifth Lord Berkeley, of Stratton. 
 Countess of Berkeley. 
 
 Cardinal Ragbine, enamelled on a gold plate. 
 
 Thomas Hobbes of Malmsbury, as he is usually 
 styled, from his birth-place West/tort, within the 
 liberties of that borough. He was a volumi- 
 nous writer of infinitely better style than any 
 of his contemporaries in the reign of Charles II. ; 
 but it must also be acknowledged, that he was 
 one in whose ethics and politics we can neither 
 discover an inclination to mend the morals, 
 nor extend the liberties, of mankind. He was 
 in such repute with Charles II. to whom he had 
 been mathematical tutor, that his pifture, by 
 Cooper, was carefully preserved in his closet 
 at Whitehall ; and so highly esteemed in France, 
 that (according to his friend the traveller La 
 Sorbiere) the virtuosi came as it were in pilgri- 
 mage to contemplate his likeness, which he 
 carried over with him from this country. Ha- 
 ving been early patronised by the Devonshire 
 family, he died at their seat at Hardwick, 1679, 
 aged 92. 
 
 Henry Lord Berkeley, 1601. 
 
 Earl Goodwin. This name is affixed to a mi- 
 niature purporting to be the "husband of Lady 
 Elizabeth Berkeley, 1662. 
 
[ 314 ] 
 
 The little state-bedchamber exhibits a most 
 curious specimen of antique furniture, a massive 
 wooden bedstead, standing under a recess, and 
 purporting to have been made in the year 1330. 
 Grotesque figures, and heavy ornaments, carved 
 in wood, cover the whole of the back ; the front 
 posts are cut into open-work, and prove that 
 our ancestors, five hundred years ago, had more 
 execution than taste in their works of art. A* 
 solitary witch piece, in Old Franks' wildest man- 
 ner, is the only pi&ure in this room. 
 
 The great state-bedchamber contains a similar 
 piece of furniture within the last room, though 
 not of equal antiquity, since it was constructed 
 for the accommodation of James L who made 
 frequent visits to Berkeley-Castle. The oldest 
 cabinet in England, formed of oak, and another, 
 valuable on account of its antiquity, and made 
 of tortoise-shell, are preserved in this room. 
 
 Darin? s tent has t\yo pi£tures by Frederick 
 Zucchero, who arrived in England 1574, and 
 v/orked here for some years ; they represent Sir 
 Maurice Berkeley, ofBruton, and his wife. 
 
 Leaving the body of the building, we pass 
 over the top of the keep to a small retired dark 
 room, standing detached and solitary, and en- 
 tered by a low strong door 5 where deeds of 
 
C 315 ] 
 
 blood might be perpetrated without disturb- 
 ance or discovery. This was the accursed 
 scene of the last agonies of the ilnfortunate 
 Edward II. where he expiated, by a horrible 
 death, the errors of a weak, rather than a vi- 
 cious, reign; leaving a solemn warning to suc- 
 ceeding monarch s of the danger of favouritism. 
 The appropriate hangings of the room and its 
 furniture, crimson cloth embroidered with 
 black, naturally lead the mind to a recolle&ion 
 of the execrable cruelty of the Bishop of Here- 
 ford, who invented and dire£led the method 
 by which Edward was destroyed y an impres- 
 sion that is heightened by the sight of an .in- 
 strument like a file, kept in the apartment, and 
 said to be the engine with which the deed was 
 committed, alluded to by Gray in the best of 
 his compositions, his " Bard." 
 
 Mark the year, and mark the nighty 
 " When Severn shall re-echo with affright, 
 ee The shrieks of death through Berkeley's roof that ring, 
 " Shrieks of an agonizing king." 
 
 Where, by the bye, the passage is spoiled, by 
 the use (in the last line) of the present participle 
 for the preterite passive. 
 
 Adjoining to the castle stands the church, 
 and appears to have been built about the 
 
r sis ] 
 
 commencement of the fourteenth century. The 
 tower is placed at one corner of the church- 
 yard, distinft from the edifice of which it usu- 
 ally forms a member, and constru&ed within 
 the last fifty years. Many old monuments of 
 the Berkeley family are preserved within the 
 church; the most curious is an ancient table 
 tomb, surrounded by an iron railing, on which 
 are stretched the full-length alabaster figures 
 of a knight and his lady; the former in armour, 
 the latter in the dress of the day. These are 
 the effigies of Sir Thomas, second Lord Berke- 
 ley, who died 136 1, and Margaret daughter 
 of the Earl of March, his first wife. The splen- 
 dour and princely magnificence in which this ba- 
 ron lived at Berkeley, was not exceeded by any 
 nobleman of his time. Three hundred people, 
 consisting of knights, esquires, and pages, filled 
 his hall every day; and seventy-four manors, 
 the demesne of which .he kept in his own hands, 
 supplied his table with the substantial hospi- 
 tality of the times. To this lord the unfortu- 
 nate Edward II. was delivered by the Queen's 
 party Nov. 16, 1326; but his enemies fearing 
 that the noble owner of Berkeley-castle would 
 treat the royal prisoner with two much kind- 
 ness, commanded Thomas to surrender his man- 
 
[ 317 ] 
 
 sion and his charge into the hands of Johii 
 Lord Maltravers and Sir T. Gournay; more fit 
 instruments for the tragic violence that was 
 shortly after perpetrated on the hapless monarch. 
 Other ancient monuments, to the memory of 
 different branches of this noble family, occur 
 in different parts of the church. The church- 
 yard also exhibits divers " frail memorials" of 
 the departed, which, as is usual in country 
 cemeteries, are all marked by one general pre- 
 vailing taste in their construction and decora- 
 tions. We may lament that the ornaments 
 on the gravestones at Berkeley are not in har- 
 mony with the simplicity of the scenery around. 
 Fat-faced cherubs, and hideous death's-heads, 
 emboss most of the grave-stones, which are 
 further ornamented with golden crowns and 
 silver glories, scythes, hour-glasses, and other 
 emblems of mortality, painted in all the co- 
 lours of the rainbow. One of these stones com- 
 memorates Dickey Pearce, a village droll or buf- 
 foon, who flourished at Berkeley half a century 
 ago, and not only afforded amusement to his 
 fellow-villagers, but also recommended him- 
 self, by his well-timed buffoonery, to the patro- 
 nage of the great. .The outline of his history 
 and character is contained in the following epi- 
 
[ 318 ) 
 
 taph on his grave-stone, the epigrammatic turn 
 of which compensates in truth for its deficiency* 
 in poetry: 
 
 " Here lies the Earl of Suffolk's fool,* 
 
 " Men called him Dickey Pearce; 
 " His folly served to make folks laugh, 
 
 (C When wit and mirth were scarce., 
 ' " Poor Dick, alas ! is dead and gone, 
 
 ce What signifies to cry \ 
 &( Dickies enough are left behind 
 
 " To laugh at by and bye/* 
 
 The wit of Dickey was not, it seems, confined 
 to oral observation, but frequently discovered 
 itself in praftical jokes. Several of these are 
 preserved in the records of parochial tradition ; 
 amongst which, allow me to present you with 
 the following, a proof that Dickey sometimes 
 availed himself of the praftice of the seers of 
 old, of imparting instruQion by the means of 
 sensible types instead of verbal communication. 
 An ancestor of the present Lord B. having 
 
 * Fools* in early times, formed part of "the household of the 
 great. Will Somers served Henry VIII. and history has preserved 
 many traits of his influence with that monarch. In later times 
 the occupation has not been so general, though Jack Creighto?i 
 is still maintained at Althorpe, the seat of Earl Spencer; and 
 probably the only noble family where that character is preserved 
 in its pristine interpretation. 
 
E 319 ] 
 
 considerably diminished his property by ex- 
 pensive pursuits, Dickey began to fear that the 
 whole of the noble patrimony would be dissi-. 
 pated, and the venerable castle, with its princely 
 demesnes^ be transferred from the family to 
 strange purchasers. High as his privilege of 
 speech was with my Lord, he could not, how- 
 ever, venture to expostulate with him on so de- 
 licate a subjeft; he therefore determined to 
 hint to him the fatal consequences of his impru- 
 dences by a visible sign. Procuring a rope, 
 therefore, he placed himself at the great gate 
 of the castle at a time when he knew his Lord- 
 ship would pass through it, and as he ap- 
 proached, began to apply the cord to the wall, 
 as if he intended to surround the whole with 
 it. " What art thou doing, Dick?" said my 
 Lord. c Only tying a rope round the castle, 
 c your honour, to prevent its running away after 
 
 * and , (estates which his Lordship 
 
 * had sold) to the top of Stinchcomb-hill/ His 
 Lordship felt the force of the observation, and 
 rewarded the droll with a piece of money for 
 his foresight and wit. 
 
 The town of Berkeley is one of the five anci- 
 ent boroughs which subsisted in Glocestershire, 
 in the time of Edward I.; but for some centuries 
 
[ 320 | 
 
 it has ceased to return members to Parliament^ 
 though it has a mayor ele&ed annually, " a 
 shadctw of a shade/' with few privileges and 
 no juriscli&ion. It gives name and title to the 
 Earls of Berkeley; and has the honour of num- 
 bering amongst its inhabitants Doftor Henry 
 Jenner, the philosopher and philanthropist, the 
 indefatigable promoter of " Vaccine Inocula- 
 tion;" to the adoption and diffusion of which, 
 every man who is anxious to (economize the hu- 
 man raee^ will ardently endeavour to Contribute. 
 The struggle between truth and prejudices 
 deeply rooted and long indulged, will often- 
 times be protra£ted to a tedious length, but 
 fortunately for mankind, in the present instance 
 the triumph of science has been obtained al- 
 ready; and the utility of this mode of inocula- 
 tion is now as universally acknowledged as it 
 has been undeniably demonstrated* 
 
 Pursuing the road to Stroud, we pass through 
 Frocester, lying in a bottom, at the foot of the 
 long winding hill which receives its name from 
 the village beneath it, and enter on the Bath 
 turnpike, which dropping down the hill, passes 
 through Frocester in its way to Glocester, 
 forming one of the great roads between the 
 
[ 321 ] 
 
 two cities. The stupendous view from this 
 tedious ascent, gradually opening, increasing, 
 and varying, as we toil upwards, is well known ; 
 and can be but inadequately described. Im- 
 mediately under it, to the: right, is spread 
 the widely-sweeping parish of Coaley, dis- 
 playing a broad expanse df rich fertility; the 
 residence of industry, wealth, and population. 
 Around this the country rises in an amphi- 
 theatrical form, shielding it to the south and 
 east by a noble belt of hills thickly planted with 
 beech woods, (belonging to Lord Ducie) which, 
 having now assumed their autumnal mantle of 
 sober russet, finely chastened the vivid green of 
 the cultivated inclosures below. In the centre 
 of this broad flat, the singular hill of Camley 
 swells out of the vale, assuming the form of an 
 oval conoid, and presenting a truncated summit, 
 as if it had been levelled by human labour, 
 Hitherto the eye has been confined to the south 
 and east of this extraordinary scene, but if its 
 excursions be direfted to the west and norths 
 a wider field for admiration and delight is 
 opened. Here it pursues the same broad car- 
 pet of animated husbandry, till it reach the 
 Severn ; traces the river for many miles, which 
 now begins to assume the capricious serpen- 
 
 Y 
 
[ 322 ] 
 
 tine dire£Hon that it continues to its source on 
 the head of Plinlimmon; surveys the diversified 
 banks on the opposite side, and reposes either 
 on the mountains of Glamorgan and Mon- 
 mouth to the left, the hills of Malvern in front, 
 or the more distant heights of Worcestershire 
 and Glocestershire to the right. 
 
 On reaching the summit of Frocester hill a 
 cross-road occurs, running in a line dire&ly op- 
 posite to the Bath turnpike. This, penetrating 
 into a noble wood of beech, condu6ts the tra- 
 veller along the brow of a lofty eminence, up- 
 wards of a mile, when suddenly issuing from 
 the shade it offers him another view of incom- 
 parable beauty. The wood ceases, and the 
 hill on the left, forming itself into a rapid se- 
 mi-circular coomb, unfolds beneath it an un- 
 bounded prospeft of fresh diversity, discover- 
 ing a vast extent of bottom, ornamented 
 with elegant houses, large manufa&ories, gay 
 towns, and neat villages; the whole enlivened 
 by long stripes of cloth, of various colours — 
 red, blue, black, and white — stretched upon 
 frames, for the purpose of dying. Again pe- 
 netrating the wood, we pursue our darkling 
 course through its shades for another half mile, 
 and at length bid adieu to it on Silsly hill, 
 
[ 323 ] 
 
 where, in addition to the other grand objefts 
 with which we have before been regaled, we 
 embrace to the right the winding and pictures- 
 que valley in which Stroud is situated, with 
 the flourishing manufactories and genteel man- 
 sions in its neighbourhood. 
 
 On dropping down CainVCross Hill, in our 
 approach to Stroud, we have a peep into Wood- 
 chester bottom, a place of Roman antiquity, 
 where coins and tessellated pavements have 
 been discovered in great abundance. At pre- 
 sent, however, it offers more agreeable, as well 
 as more useful, subje&s of speculation, than 
 even these classical remains — a long range of 
 noble woollen manufa&ories. The principal 
 of these belongs to Mr. Wathen, who some 
 time since introduced the Manchester fancy 
 work, which is now carried on with great spirit 
 and success. He invented and adopted, also, 
 an improved machinery for the manufacture of 
 the cloth, the principal feature of which is a 
 shearing engine, consisting of a cylindrical rol- 
 ler, round which the cloth passes. As the cy- 
 linder revolves, the cloth is encountered by 
 several shears, which being firmly fixed in a 
 proper machine, perform their office with the 
 utmost exaSness, no manual labour being re- 
 
[ 324 ] 
 
 quired, and one person performing as much 
 work as eight would execute in the same space 
 of time. The dying works at Dudbridge, over 
 which we pass in our way to Stroud, excite 
 our astonishment at the extent of this noble 
 branch of British manufactures, the woollen 
 cloth. Here Mr. Hawker has seven furnaces 
 continually at work, which frequently dye forty- 
 two pieces in the course of one day. Large 
 copper cauldrons, (heated by the furnaces be- 
 neath them) containing the liquor, or dye, re- 
 ceive the pieces of cloth, where they continue 
 about two hours, being passed during the whole 
 time round a cylindrical frame, that revolves a 
 little above the surface of the liquor, in order 
 to give the dying ingredients an opportunity of 
 tinging the cloth regularly and uniformly. This 
 process is performed twice, after which the 
 piece is drawn through a body of cold water, 
 to cleanse it from those particles which will 
 not adhere, and fix themselves to the w r ool. 
 It is then stretched on the tenters, and exposed 
 to the air to be dried ; sheared, pressed, and 
 packed for sale. 
 
 The scarlet dye of Stroud and its neighbour- 
 hood carries a preference to that of any other 
 place, the water of its springs having some 
 
[ 326 ] 
 
 properties peculiarly favourable to that parti- 
 cular process. Its woollen trade also flourishes 
 with a vigour unknown to the manufa&ories of 
 Wiltshire, in consequence of the abundant 
 streams which water the clothing country 
 of Glocestershire, and afford the never-failing 
 means of working the machinery, by which the 
 business is carried on. Hence we see on every 
 side a general appearance of affluence, an in- 
 creasing population, a comfortable peasantry, 
 and thickly sprinkled country seats, the snug 
 retreats of the successful manufa&urers. This 
 gratifying view of human happiness extends 
 through the whole clothing country, as it is called, 
 a traft of valley consisting of two bottoms ; that 
 of Woodchester on the right, and Binscomb on 
 the left; and stretching nearly fourteen miles 
 from one extremity to the other. In this busy 
 scene of industry, a great quantity of cloth is 
 annually manufa&ured for home and foreign 
 consumption ; the demand for which, war has 
 rather increased than diminished. The far 
 greater proportion of its cloth consists of four 
 colours— blue, red, white and black ; the navy 
 consumes a vast quantity of the first; the army, 
 of the second and third; and the hapless sur- 
 vivors, whom war has robbed of their protec- 
 
[ 32(5 ] 
 
 tors—the orphan and the widow- — sufficiently 
 explain the increased demand for the last colour. 
 
 The town of Stroud lies partly in a bottom 
 and partly on the declivity of a hill, in the 
 midst of a country singularly beautiful and ro- 
 mantic. Its girls are deservedly famed for their 
 figure and charms; chiefly employed in burl- 
 ing and picking the w r ool, and preparing the 
 white cloth for the dye, their business allows 
 the greatest personal cleanliness, so that a knot 
 of these busy females frequently exhibits more 
 interesting beauty and neatness, than the draw- 
 ing-room affords. 
 
 The road from Stroud to Cirencester, twelve 
 miles, winds up the tedious hill at the bottom 
 of which the former town is situated, but the 
 wonderful views from its summit compensate 
 all the toil of the ascent. Here all the cloth- 
 ing country is seen following the foldings of 
 the valleys on either hand, and, for the last 
 time, the Severn river and its distant boundaries 
 of Monmouthshire and Herefordshire. Very 
 different, indeed, is the country on which we 
 now enter; an open flat, laid out into large 
 arable fields, separated from each other by stone 
 divisions; the whole exhibiting a light hungry 
 
C 327 ] 
 
 soil upon a basis of oolite, similar to the stone 
 about Bath. In a tame scene, such as I have 
 described, nothing occurs to interest the mind, 
 nor is it relieved from the tiresomeness of dull 
 uniformity till within five miles of Cirencester, 
 when an example of human labour presents it- 
 self that claims our admiration. This is a 
 tunnel, or under-ground continuation of the 
 canal that conne£ts theThames with the Severn, 
 commencing about three-quarters of a mile to 
 the right of the road, passing invisibly under 
 the turnpike, and opening again into the light 
 of day at a mile to the left hand of it. To 
 visit the entrance into this curious perfora- 
 tion, it is necessary to turn to the right to the 
 hamlet of Coates, about half a mile from which 
 in a bottom lies the canal. Here a large arch, 
 with a handsome free-stone front, opens into a 
 subterraneous passage, between three and four 
 thousand yards in length, but so perfe&ly strait, 
 as to afford a view of the opening at the other 
 extremity, which appears like a distant star. 
 As the tunnel is not sufficiently wide to allow 
 two barges to pass each other, the following 
 regulations are inscribed on a tablet affixed 
 over the arch, to prevent such an unpleasant 
 rencontre, as their meeting w r ithin the passage : — 
 
[ 328 ] 
 
 (< Boats to enter the tunnel on this end, at two o'clock 
 u or at ten o'clock in the morning; and at six o'clock in 
 " the afternoon. If any boat enter the tunnel at the Coates- 
 " field end at any other time than above-mentioned, or is 
 fi longer than four hours in passing the tunnel, and by that 
 *' means meets another boat which has entered it the re- 
 " gular hour, such boat exceeding the limited time shall 
 " be taken back to the end of the tunnel she entered at," &c. 
 
 The arched passage is partly formed of stone, 
 partly of brick, and partly of the natural rock ; 
 about twelve feet wide, and upon the average 
 sixteen feet high; the expence of constructing 
 it may be conceived from the nature of the 
 contracts entered into, which, in some instances, 
 allowed the workmen five guineas upon every 
 square yard. Great costs also attend the sup- 
 plying of the canal with water, which is per- 
 formed (the dearth of the springs in the ground 
 through which it is cut rendering it necessary) 
 by hydraulick machines pumping into it the 
 water of the adjoining springs, night and day. 
 
 On returning to the Cirencester turnpike, 
 we availed ourselves of the privilege allowed 
 to travellers by Lord Bathurst, of passing 
 through Oakley wood, the extensive out-park 
 of that nobleman ; which, though rather a cir- 
 cuitous road, agreeably diversifies the ride. ' It 
 
[ 329 ] 
 
 is about fifteen miles in circumference, and 
 laid out into ten diverging avenues, in the man- 
 ner of the woods of Chantilly, which meet, like 
 the radii of a wheel, on a rising ground in the 
 centre. This mode of disposing grounds (in 
 high repute with our ancestors) was called the 
 etoile, or star; and the example of it before us 
 obtained from Pope a compliment, which the 
 more correal notions of taste possessed by the 
 moderns will probably consider as mis-applied: 
 
 4< Who then shall grace, or who improve the soil ? 
 
 4( Who plants like Bathurst, or who builds like Boyle ? ,J 
 
 The home-park, or grounds in the immediate 
 neighbourhood of Lord Bathurst's house, are 
 also laid out in the same stiff manner; every 
 where straight lines meet the eye, and in all 
 the decorations an effort is seen to subdue the 
 wildness and variety of nature to the uniformity 
 of art. The mansion is a large and convenient 
 family dwelling, built of free-stone, by Allen, 
 the first Lord Bathurst. After running entirely 
 through the out-park, the road joins the turn- 
 pike about a mile from Cirencester, descending 
 the gentle hill which drops into this ancient 
 town, the Corinium of the Romans of Britain. 
 
[ 330 ] 
 
 Various marks of antiquity, in different parts 
 of this place, evince its former importance ; 
 f particularly, a vestige of the presence of the 
 first conquerors of our country, a beautiful 
 fragment of a tessellated pavement, in the house 
 of Mrs. Smith, in Dyer-street. The subje£l is 
 astronomical, exhibiting in vivid colours, and 
 very neat Mosaic, several of the constellations 
 under their appropriate emblematic represen- 
 tations. Fortunately for the lovers of Roman 
 antiquity, this remain is in the possession of a 
 lady who has taste to preserve it with care, and 
 courtesy to allow the curious to contemplate it 
 at their leisure. 
 
 The church is a fine piece of ancient Go- 
 thic architecture, with beautiful filagreed bat- 
 tlements, and a variety of imagery on the 
 outside; and several old chapels, curious monu- 
 ments, and valuable painted glass, within. The 
 glass had long been scattered through the dif- 
 ferent windows of the pile, without any atten- 
 tion to order or regularity, when Mr. Lysons 
 was requested to arrange it. This labour he 
 undertook, and finished the western window 
 with the utmost judgment, propriety, and 
 beauty, at the expence of Mrs. Catherine 
 Cripps, of Cirencester; but a sufficient quan- 
 
[ 331 ] 
 
 tity of glass remaining to furnish nearly an- 
 other, the same gentleman was prevailed upon 
 to compleat the work, by adjusting the eastern 
 window also, which was put up about three 
 months ago, at the expence of Mrs. Williams; 
 and, together with its companion, form the 
 richest ornaments of this venerable pile. The 
 south porch of the church is as magnificent as 
 it is singular, stretching nearly forty feet in 
 front, and rising to the proud height of fifty 
 feet. The rich open-work of its battlements 
 and pinnacles, the imagery of its front, and its 
 fine ribbed ceiling within, are all admirable 
 examples of splendid Gothic architecture. 
 
 Quitting Cirencester, on our return to Bath, 
 about two miles from the former town, and one 
 hundred yards to the left hand, we meet with 
 the source of the river Thames. Little of his 
 future majesty and greatness, however, can 
 be discovered in his diminutive original; and 
 the spring, robbed of almost all his waters by 
 the steam engine, (which levies a contribution 
 upon it night and day) would be in vain looked 
 up to by the meadows of Oxfordshire for fer- 
 tility, and the quays of London for wealth, if 
 numberless tributary streams did not lend their 
 
[ 332 ] 
 
 aid to support their venerable father*, and fill 
 his nearly-exhausted urn. The same unadorned 
 scenery here again spreads itself into ex- 
 tensive flatness for qiany miles; hut at length 
 the road conducting us through Tetbury, (the 
 bridge of which stands half in Wiltshire and 
 half in Glocestershire) proceeds to Wootton- 
 under-Edge, where once more we get into 
 interesting country. 
 
 Situated upon the side of a bill, with a deep 
 coomb below it, this town commands an 
 extensive view, including the hill of Lans- 
 down, near Bath, on one side, and the moun- 
 tains of Wales on the other. Here, also, the 
 beneficial effefts of the clothing manufaftory 
 to individuals in particular, and the publick in 
 general, are manifested, in great opulence, in- 
 creasing population, and universal industry. 
 Several woollen works are carried on within 
 the place, but we find the largest and most 
 cornpleat establishment of the kind about one 
 mile and a half from the town, on the road to 
 Bath. It is called New-Mill, belongs to Messrs. 
 Austin, and employs under its roof about one 
 hundred and ninety-five men, women, and chil- 
 dren. The construction and arrangement of 
 this large manufa&ory refleft much credit both 
 
[ 333 ] 
 
 on Its architect and its managers; the plan be- 
 ing singularly judicious, particularly in the con- 
 trivance for the immediate suppression of fire, 
 in case of an accident of that kind; and the 
 regularity of the numerous inmates quite ex- 
 emplary* Spanish wool is alone manufactured 
 at this work, and prepared for the weaver of 
 broad-cloth and kerseymere. The process is as 
 follows: — The article being brought in its rough 
 state to the manufactory is there, in the first 
 place, /licked, or freed from its tags and other 
 impurities ; then oiled upon a tin floor, in order 
 to soften it for working. After this process it 
 goes into the first scribbling machine, where the 
 locks are loosened, detached, and divided ; from 
 thence into a second similar machine, where the 
 wool is reduced to a still finer consistence. It 
 is now thrown into a third machine, constructed 
 like the last, and experiences the same process, 
 except that passing under a fluted cylindrical 
 roller, it is discharged from it in long and 
 thin masses, as a preparation for spinning, 
 These being gathered up by children are car- 
 ried to the spinning- billy ; by the curious and ra- 
 pid operation of which they are lengthened, 
 twisted into coarse threads, and wound up into 
 cones. The sjrinning-jennies then receive these 
 
[ 33i ] 
 
 threads; which, first untwisting them, twists 
 them again in a contrary direction into finer 
 and tighter threads, and forms them into cones 
 as before. These are sent to the neighbouring 
 weavers, and manufactured into cloth. Bat the 
 mill has not yet performed all its operations; 
 the cloth is again brought back, before it is 
 dyed, to be rowed, a process for smoothing and 
 cleasing it from all the ends of the thread, 
 knots, &c. This is performed by its being passed 
 over a cylinder wheeled round in a rapid man- 
 ner, and armed with the heads of the teazle. 
 After frequent repetitions of this process it goes 
 to the fulling-mill, on the lowest floor of the 
 building, where it is milled or pounded, which 
 both thickens the cloth and deprives it of the 
 oil that remained in the article of which it is 
 composed. It is then stretched for dying, &c. 
 
 An agreeable impression arises oh the con- 
 templation of so much industrious exertion 
 within so small a compass; nearly two hundred 
 people busily employed under one roof; curious 
 complicated machines above, moving with a 
 velocity that defies the nicest vision to deteft 
 their motions; and ponderous engines below, 
 astonishing the mind in an equal degree by 
 their simplicity and gigantic powers. It is an 
 
[ 335 ] 
 
 additional pleasure to refleft, that the best sti- 
 mulus is held out to industry, by its being re- 
 warded with proportionate profits. The men 
 and women work by the piece, and earn from 
 one to two guineas per week, according to their 
 exertions. A provision, likewise, is made for 
 children, who at six years old are brought to 
 the scribbling machines, and are enabled to 
 earn one shilling and sixpence per week. Our 
 gratification on surveying this capital manufac- 
 tory is heightened by the appearance of health, 
 which the younger part of its inhabitants ex- 
 hibit, and the general decency, order, and regu- 
 larity, observable among the adults; circum- 
 stances which refleft particular credit on the 
 the proprietors and their agents, as this is rarely 
 seen in similar institutions of a like extent. 
 
 Pursuing a road, which condufts for six- 
 miles through a fiat rich grazing country, re- 
 markable for the production of the dairy, we 
 reach Tortworth-Court, the seat of Lord Ducie, 
 situated in an extensive depression, surrounded 
 by noble hills, whose gradually ascending sides 
 offer an interesting variety of scenery; and 
 whose undulating heights bound the view. The 
 house is an old irregular building, not remark- 
 
[ 335 ] 
 
 able for architectural beauty without, but fitted 
 up in the inside with an elegance that testifies 
 the cultivated taste bf its accomplished owner, 
 it came into the possession of the present Lord's 
 family, together with the manor,- the beginning 
 of the seventeenth century, by the purchase of 
 Sir Robert Dueie, baronet, alderman of London. 
 His nephew, Sir William, was made knight of 
 the bath, at the coronation of King Charles II. 
 who created him also Viscount Down, in the 
 kingdom of Ireland. This nobleman dying; 
 without issue, the property vested in Elizabeth, 
 the only child of Robert Ducie, esq; his youngeF 
 brother, who marrying Edward Morton, esq; 
 of Morton in Staffordshire, had a son, Matthew 
 Ducie Morton. On the 13th of June, 1720* 
 he was created Lord Ducie, a title that de- 
 scended through his son Matthew to his grand- 
 son Thomas, the present lord. 
 
 The association of the church with the man^ 
 sion-house evinces the piety of our ancestors, 
 who, unlike their fastidious descendants, seem 
 not to have considered the house of God as 
 an inconvenient or disagreeable neighbour. 
 The great park, called Cromwell-Park, belong- 
 ing to the mansion, lies at one mile distance 
 from it, and is famous for a considerable piece 
 
[ 337 ] 
 
 of water, or lake, within its inclosure. But' 
 the home, I pleasure, and garden grounds are - 
 chiefly worth notice; where skill, beauty, and. 
 neatness are equally manifest. The most ve- 
 nerable ornament is an huge chesnut-tree, pro- 
 bably as remarkable for antiquity as size, it ha- 
 ving been mentioned (according to Sir= Richard 
 Atkins) in King John's days, .six centuries ago, 
 as the wonder of the neighbourhood, and mea- 
 suring, at present* at the foot, fifty-seven feet in 
 circumference. A friend of the noble owner 
 has lately paid the following poetical tribute to 
 this father of the woods, engraved on a copper 
 plate affixed to its trunk: — * 
 
 " THis tite supposed to be 600 years old, Jten. 1st, 1800. 
 
 €( May man still guard thy venerable form 
 <c From the rude blast, and the tempestuous storm $ 
 ee Still may'st thou flourish through succeeding time> 
 '* And last, long last, the wonder of the clime." 
 
 The votarist, however, might have added 1 at 
 least two centuries to the supposed age- of the 
 chesnut; and a more happy turn, it should: 
 seem, ought to have been given to t\\tjewd J esfirit, 
 by an allusion to the successive generations 
 which had been swept aw T ay during the vigour 
 
 z 
 
[ 338 ] 
 
 of the uninjured tree ; and by a comparison be- 
 tween the modes of domestic life, and the rude 
 magnificence exhibited in the adjoining man- 
 sion during the feudal times ; and the elegant 
 comfort,jand polished courtesy, that it at present 
 displays under the auspices of its respe&able 
 possessor. 
 
 As we approach Wickwar, the mineralogy 
 of the country becomes interesting, its basis 
 for some miles exhibiting that species of pon- 
 derous stone, or barytes, called sulfihate of ' stron- 
 tian-y a substance which, till within these two 
 years, had been esteemed a white lyas. Coal, 
 also, comes in again at this part in profusion, 
 and traces of calamine and lead ore are disco- 
 vered in the neighbourhood. The name of the 
 little town is derived from the Saxon pic zvic y 
 village, and the noble family De la Warr, 
 who became possessed of this manor in the 
 reign of Richard I. and held it till the seven- 
 teenth century, when it was purchased by Sir 
 Robert Ducie, and transmitted, with the other 
 demesnes of that family, to the present Lord. 
 It is a borough by prescription, but has long 
 lost the substantial privilege of returning mem- 
 bers to the Senate ; and retains the vox et Jira- 
 
[ 339 ] 
 
 terea nihil, except the farce of a mace being 
 carried before its mayor and twelve aldermen 
 on festal days. 
 
 Of the same titular dignity is Chipping-Sod- 
 bury, five miles nearer Bath, a town made cor- 
 porate by Charles in 1681, but disfranchised 
 in 1 688, at the request of the inhabitants. It 
 bears the disgrace of having been stained by 
 the blood of a martyr, in the cause of the Pro- 
 testant religion, John Pigott, who was offered 
 up at the stake, a viftim to the bigotry of 
 Queen Mary; and is said to have afforded a 
 singular instance of the vengeance of Heaven 
 on religious persecution, in the person of Dr. 
 Whittington, vicar-general, who, having con- 
 demned a woman to death for heresy, was gra- 
 tifying his barbarity with a view of her torments, 
 when a bull bursting from a neighbouring pas- 
 ture, rushed into the midst of the assembled 
 spe£lators, and without attempting to injure 
 any of them, proceeded to the Do£tor, and with 
 one stroke of his horns tore out his entrails. 
 
 About four miles from Chipping-Sodbury we 
 reach Pucklechurch, dignified by Camden with 
 the name of Villa Regia, but having long since 
 
[ 340 ] 
 
 dropped allappearanceof royalty, and degenera- 
 ted into a village. A little to the east, onthe road 
 to Dirham,, is a rising/ground, with some un- 
 intelligible earth-works, said to be the scite ; of 
 the palace which the Saxon Kings of this part 
 of Britain occasionally inhabited; and-here. tra- 
 dition also tells us, the murder of JCing Ed- 
 mund * happened, who was slain by Leof. 
 " While he sat at table," says the historian, 
 " celebrating the feast of St. Augustine, at 
 c f Pukelkurk in Glocestershire, he espied 
 " amongst the crowd a notorious fellow, called 
 " Leof, whom he. had banished for theft and 
 " rapine. , He immediately commanded his 
 " server to seize 'the presumptuous thief, who 
 " had thus intruded himself even into the royal 
 " presence 3 but perceiving that this officer was 
 " not able to manage the. delinquent, he him-" 
 u self started from the table, and pulled him to 
 € i the ground by the hair of his head. Leof 
 " knowing that an ignominious death awaited 
 " him, drew forth a dagger, which was con- 
 xt cealed under his clothes, and while the king 
 " lay upon him, sheathed it in: the bosom :of 
 " his prince, who immediately expired. The 
 " death of the murderer, whom the noblemen 
 " immediately hewed in pieces, was, but a poor 
 
L < 341 1 
 
 • " atonement for the loss of such a valuable 
 " king, thus cutoff iq the flower of his youth." 
 
 We now approach the roots of Lansdown, 
 the great hill that rises to the north-west of Bath, 
 and defends it from the cold blasts of that quar- 
 ter. Near the northern foot of this elevation 
 is the little village of Wick, picturesque in ap- 
 pearance, and remarkable for the romantic 
 valley in its neighbourhood; a deep rugged 
 glen, about three-quarters of a mile in length, 
 which opens suddenly in a low country, and 
 presents in its rocky sides and stony bottom a 
 singular contrast to the richness and fertility 
 of the adjacent parts. Through this hollow a 
 little stream forces its way, flashing over a stony 
 bed, and forming a pleasing addition to the 
 scene. Of late years, however, the glen has 
 lost much of its picturesque interest, by the in- 
 troduction of several manufactories within its 
 quiet sequestered windings, the din and bustle 
 of which by no means harmonize with the fea- 
 tures around. But in spite of the opposition 
 that taste may make to these encroachments of 
 art, on a spot which Nature seemed to have 
 marked for her own, policy is content to allow 
 the propriety of the present application of the 
 
[ 342 ] 
 
 brook, hitherto useless, since, in the course of 
 two miles, it now works no less than six mills; 
 a rolling or slitting, a paper, an iron, a cotton, 
 and two grist mills. 
 
 The geology of Wick rocks affords as much 
 curiosity to the naturalist, as the beauty of the 
 scene offers gratification to the man of taste. 
 In the most lofty part they rise to the height of 
 two hundred feet or upwards, and consist of a 
 series of beds of lime-stone, and petrosilex, 
 alternating with each other; exhibiting, to- 
 wards the west, a vein of coal of fourteen inches 
 thick, and another of lead, both formerly 
 worked, shouldered on each side by a mass of 
 petrosilex. In the centre of the glen we find 
 a bed of lime-stone, nearly six hundred yards in 
 breadth, inclosed between two beds of petro- 
 silex, of nearly the same horizontal dimensions, 
 all dipping to the w T est-north-west, in an angle 
 of sixty feet with the plain of the horizon. 
 Imbedded in this are lead ore, Sjiatkous iron 
 ore, cauk or barytes, and that large species of 
 anomia, of which a profusion is found in the 
 rocks of Mendip, Hotwells, and Derbyshire. 
 The division of petrosilex adjoining to this great 
 bed on the east combines again with the lime 
 rock on the road to Doynton, and at this union 
 
[ 343 ] 
 
 becomes a mill-stone or padding-stone . Below the 
 glen to the westward, by the side of the Bristol 
 road, and a little under the surface of the red 
 ground which is sufficiently obvious to the eye, 
 are deposited a great profusion of geodes or 
 nodules, containing within them beautiful quartz 
 chrystal, with calcareous dog-tooth spar. 
 
 A noble Roman camp crowns the summit of 
 the northern cliff, forming a long square, and 
 defended on three sides by a broad ditch and 
 double vallum. Its area, which consists of 
 more than twelve acres, contains within it the 
 rock-house and three or four cottages. A sin- 
 gular Druidical monument, also, is taken in our 
 way to Lansdown, by following, for half a mile, 
 Back-lane, which leads from the Crown Inn 
 to the foot of that hill 3 and, (as is worth re- 
 marking) in its way thither runs over the lime- 
 stone rock, and petrosilex, above-mentioned. 
 On the east side of this lane we find the Dru- 
 idical remain, which consists of three large 
 stones, about five feet high, standing distant from 
 each other, and forming an equilateral triangle. 
 The ground within them is raised into the form 
 of a tumulus ; the stones are of a similar kind 
 with those of the Druidical circles at Stanton- 
 Drew, about twelve miles from this spot, sift* 
 
[ 344 ] 
 
 ceoits iron-stone, including within it rounded 
 quartz pebbles and crystals* 
 
 Climbing the north-western steep of Lans- 
 down, we pass the : eldgant free-stone monu- 
 ment ere&ed by George Granville Lord Lans- 
 down in 1726, to the memory of the Cornish 
 heroes,. who' died fightirfg in the battle which 
 took place at this spot between the*' King's 
 forces, and those of the Parliament under Sir 
 William Waller, July 5th, 1643. Sir Bevil 
 Granville, who was killed on the part of the 
 king, fell on the exaft spof where the monu- 
 Ynent at present stands. To the south of this, 
 at a small distance from the road, are the fatal 
 breast-works, (described by Clarendon) that 
 were thrown up by Waller on the morning of 
 the battle; in attempting to force which Gran- 
 ville lost his life. Like the Theban chieftain 
 of old, or the no less celebrated modern hero 
 of the heights of Abraham, he died in the mo- 
 ment of vifitbry; and the last words which 
 struck upon his ear were the joyful acclama- 
 tions of his soldiers, " They fly, they fly !" But 
 mournful was the triumph of the royal party y 
 nor did the retreat of Waller from his ground, 
 nor the military stores which he left behind Mriy 
 however acceptable to the cavaliers, at all com- 
 
[ 345 ] 
 
 pensate for the misfortunes they experienced 
 in the dreadful effusion of blood to which their 
 valour had exposed them; in the destru£iion 
 of many of their best officers ; and in the loss 
 of a leader (Sir Bevil Granville) who was at 
 once the confidence of the army, and the 
 boast of his party. His remains were removed 
 to Kilkhampton in Cornwall, and no " stone of 
 memorial" rose on the spot where he fell, till 
 near a century had elapsed from the date of the 
 battle; but Granville had built himself a mo- 
 nument, areperenntuS) in the hearts of his friends; 
 and the fairest meed of unfortunate valour, the 
 tears of the brave, and lamentations of the 
 good, soothed the shade of the departed hero. 
 
 " How sleep the brave, who sink to rest 
 " By all their country's wishes blest? 
 ct When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, 
 <e Returns to deck their hallowed mould, 
 " She then shall dress a sweeter sod 
 " Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 
 
 " By fairy hands their knell is rung 5 
 " By forms unseen their dirge is sung 5 
 cc There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, 
 " To bless the turf that wraps their clay 5 
 <f And Freedom shall awhile repair, 
 <( To dwell a weeping hermit there," 
 
[ 346 ] : 
 
 The top of Lansdown preserves a dead level 
 for nearly three miles, and commands a view 
 diversified and august, from one point of which 
 the cities of Bath and Bristol are seen at the 
 same time. Once a year this flat displays the hu- 
 mours of a fair, and the gaieties of a race, both 
 sufficiently supplied with company from the 
 neighbouring town of speculation. Half way up 
 the proud acclivity of Lansdown, the spirit of 
 building has carried streets and crescents, which, 
 though but the children of yesterday, assume 
 an exclusive claim to fashion and elegance ; and, 
 with mushroom pride, look down disdainfully 
 on the venerable parent city in the bottom, for- 
 getful that it is to the springs in her prolific 
 bosom alone, they are indebted for their original 
 existence, and present importance. 
 
 Your's, &c. R. W. 
 
 CCruttwell, Printer, Bath* 
 
CORRIGENDA. 
 
 TAG'S. 
 
 12, (Note) for 133a read 149^ 
 24, 1. 9, for Longope, r. Longespee. 
 
 The following particulars respecting Farley having been 
 communicated to the Author, by the Reftor of that 
 parish, the reader is desired to adopt them as emenda- 
 tions of the text: 
 
 2$, " The ancient park extended half way to Hinton, and the 
 " present road to the village (which is the turnpike from 
 " Norton to Trowbridge) runs along' on the outside of 
 " its southern boundary, down to the castle." 
 For declivity r. acclivity. 
 
 i£, The inscription is as follows: 
 
 Muniat hoc templu cruce glorificans microcosmu Q genuit 
 xpm. Miseris pace fiat asylum. 
 
 Proposed to be translated, " May the mother of Christ pro- 
 " tect this church, glorying in the cross. May it be a 
 " peaceful asylum to the wretched. 
 
 21, Its former affix was Farley Montford, its present is Farley 
 Hungerford. 
 
 a8, 1. 15, for handled, r. banded. 
 
 30, Farley- Castle was disposed of in 1686 to the Bayntons and 
 others, in trust for the heiress. 
 
 $2 y 1. 9, for Richard Earl of Holland, r. Henry Rich Earl 
 
 of Holland. 
 64* 1. 34> f° r the wife, r. favourite. 
 67, 1. 16, 17, r. and probably an original portrait. 
 159, 1. 11, r. magnificent. 
 
Published by the same Author y 
 
 The HISTORY of BATH. One Volume Royal Quarto, 
 with Plates. 21. 12s. 6d. 
 
 WALKS through WALES, illustrated with Three fine 
 Plates by Aiken, from the Drawings of Becker and Hulley. 
 2 vols. 14s. — The volumes may be had separate. 
 
 A WALK through SOMERSET, DEVON, and Part of 
 CORNWALL; embellished with Two Aquatint Views 
 by Aiken, from the Drawings of Becker and Hulley. 7s. 
 
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