THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 A TOUR 
 
 THROUGH THE 
 
 NORTHERN COUNTIES 
 
 ENGLAND, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 BORDERS OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 Rev d . Richard Warner. 
 
 In Two Vols Vol. I. 
 
 " Creation's Tenant, all the world is thine!' 
 
 BATH, PRINTED BY R. CRUTTWELLj 
 
 AND SOLD BY 
 
 G. AND J. ROBINSON, PATER-NOSTER-ROW, LONDON. 
 
 1802.
 
 DA 
 
 ITINERARY. 
 
 MUtt. 
 
 From Bath to Glocester 38 
 
 Tewkesbury 10 
 
 Worcester 15 
 
 Bromsgrove 15 
 
 Hagley 7 
 
 Stourbridge 2 
 
 Dudley 4 
 
 Walsal 8 
 
 Lichfield 9 
 
 Burton 13 
 
 Derby 11 
 
 Ashbourne 13 
 
 Mapleton 3 
 
 Oakover 1 
 
 Dovedale and Islam, and back 10 
 
 Matlock " 11 
 
 Chatsworth 9 
 
 Tideswell 10 
 
 Buxton 7 
 
 Castleton 12 
 
 Sheffield 16 
 
 Rotherham 6 
 
 Bank- top, by Lord Fitzwilliam's 12 
 
 Wentworth-Castle 33 
 
 235 

 
 [ iv ] 
 
 Miles. 
 
 Brought over 235 
 
 To Wakefield, through Barnsley 12 
 
 Leeds 9 
 
 Harewood 9 
 
 Harrowgate 8 
 
 Knaresborough 3 
 
 Borough-Bridge 7 
 
 Newby 3 
 
 Bippon ', 6 
 
 Studley 7 
 
 Hackfall 3 
 
 Masham 3 
 
 Bedale 6 
 
 Catterick-Bridge 8 
 
 Darlington 14 
 
 Bushford 9 
 
 Durham 9 
 
 Cocker 5 
 
 Lumley-Castle 3 
 
 Sunderland 9 
 
 Newcastle 13 
 
 381
 
 Dudley 
 
 Stourbridge 
 
 " fa Hagtey 
 Bromsgrove 
 
 River Avon 
 
 Bath 
 
 River Avon 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 To WILLIAM JOHNSTON, Esq; 
 
 dear sir, Dudley, June 1st, 1801. 
 
 r T^HAT " success leads to rashness," is a truth 
 established by daily experience; and I can- 
 not help fearing, that I may assist its confirmation, 
 by adding my own example to the numerous in- 
 stances in which it has been already manifested. 
 Emboldened by your favourable reception of my
 
 [ 2 ] 
 
 letters from the West,* you see me once more 
 preparing to tax your time and patience in a simi- 
 lar manner, though to a greater degree, by pressing 
 upon your notice the fruits of a much more exten- 
 sive tour into the North. As an excuse, however, 
 for the increased bulk of my communications, I 
 flatter myself I shall be enabled to offer you novelty 
 and variety in an equal proportion; since my pre- 
 sent expedition will embrace several subjects which 
 could not present themselves to my notice in a 
 journey through a part of England more remark- 
 able for the beauties of nature, than rich in the 
 productions of the fine or useful arts. Commerce, 
 ceconomics, and manufactures, will now occasionally 
 claim our attention, and an increased interest will 
 be given to my correspondence, by descriptions of 
 classical sculpture, accounts of the productions of 
 the Italian and Flemish schools, and biographical 
 notices of characters great and distinguished in their 
 day, who now only live in the page of the historian, 
 or the portrait-galleries of their descendants. 
 
 Directing our attention first to Bristol, we quit- 
 ted Bath by the lower road, which takes for the 
 most part the level, and in a great measure the 
 course, of the river Avon, nearly the whole of the 
 
 Vide Western Walk, &c.
 
 C 3 ] 
 
 distance between the two cities. This stream, 
 however, excites in us, as it " flows mournfully 
 muddily on," none of those poetical ideas which 
 seem to be necessarily conne&ed with a river syno- 
 nymous to that on whose banks the immortal 
 Shakespeare " warbled his native wood-notes 
 wild." But though it do not feed the imagina- 
 tion, the Avon has more substantial claims to our 
 regard, since it enriches with its sluggish waters a 
 long traft of meadows that let for 5I. an acre, and 
 carries on its patient bosom the heavy traffic which 
 passes betwixt the two towns. From this flat 
 road all distant prospeft is precluded, the scene 
 being confined to the acclivities of Lansdown which 
 rise to the right, the vale which shoots forward in 
 front, and the ascending lands of Newton and 
 Corston parishes to the left. 
 
 A little diversion from the turnpike on this side 
 introduced us to Newton-Park, the seat of William 
 Gore Langton, esq; member for the county, the 
 noble woods of which, crowning the summit of the 
 higher grounds in the demesne, have a particularly 
 grand effeft in a country not remarkable for mas- 
 siveness of shade. The house, handsome and 
 substantial, of modern archite&ure, is placed with 
 judgment on a spot at once sheltered and com- 
 manding, taking in from one of its fronts a beau- 
 
 vol. 1. B
 
 [ 4 ] 
 
 tiful home-Scene (in which the factitious piece of 
 water and its banks make elegant ornaments) and 
 a diversified distant prospect. It rose, phoenix-like, 
 from the ruins of a more ancient edifice, begun 
 probably by its original lords, the Norman family 
 of St. Lo, or De San&o Laudo, who in the latter 
 end of Henry Illd.'s reign numbered this manor 
 on the list of their possessions. 
 
 Amongst the other instances of royal oppres- 
 sion which the Pipe-Rolls of John's reign afford, 
 (a prince as wicked as he was weak, and as extor- 
 tionate as avaricious) is njine mentioned to have 
 been levied on Roger de Sanfto Laudo as a heriot, 
 on the demise of his ancestor, for the manors of 
 Newton and Publow, to the amount of one 
 hundred pounds and two palfries, a sum of consi- 
 derable importance in the twelfth century. Justly 
 irritated by the extravagant levy, Roger joined the 
 association of the Barons who rose in arms against 
 the tyrannical John, and had the satisfaction, if tradi- 
 tion may be believed, of keeping him for some time 
 as a captive in one of the towers of his castellated 
 mansion at Newton, the scene of the monarch's 
 rapacity. All vestiges of this edifice, the prison 
 of a king, have long since disappeared; but an 
 embattled gateway of a later date is preserved, as 
 a memorial of the venerable edifice which frowned
 
 [ 5 .] 
 
 over the park of Newton St. Lo In the fourteenth 
 century. The estate continued in the family of St. 
 Lo till the reign of Richard II. and then passed, 
 through female branches, by marriage, successively 
 into those of Lords Botreaux, Hungerford, and 
 Huntingdon. It became vested in the present 
 possessor in right of his wife, the daughter of the 
 late William Langton, esq; who added, on that 
 occasion, the family name of his lady to his own. 
 
 As we passed the handsome Gothic church of 
 this agreeably-situated village, we looked (accord- 
 ing to my accustomed practice) into the holy 
 structure, in order to survey the memorials of the 
 more noble dead, who here enjoy the last distinc- 
 tions which rank and riches can command inter- 
 ment within the fane, and costly monuments spread 
 upon its walls. On casting our eyes over these 
 memorials of extinguished consequence, we were 
 struck forcibly with the absurdity of Latin 
 epitaphs, which occur here in a greater number 
 than usual. Nothing, indeed, can be more in- 
 consistent than enveloping those communications, 
 which are intended for the information of the 
 many, in a language understood only by the few. 
 Commodore Trunnion's dying request has always 
 struck me not only as admirably characteristic 
 of this celebrated commander, but also as a
 
 [. c ] 
 
 good satire on the affectation of clothing epitaphs 
 in execrable modern Latinity. " I do desire that 
 " it may not be engraved in the Greek or Latin 
 " lingos, and much less in the French, which I 
 " abominate, but in plain English , that when the 
 " angel comes to pipe all hands at the great day, 
 " he may know that I am a British man, and speak 
 " to me in my mother tongue." Little less ab- 
 surd is the formulary, or set of phrases, with 
 which theseprecious morceaux sometimes commence 
 such as Siste iterum, Viator ; Audi, Viator both 
 occurring on a monument in the church of which 
 we are speaking; apostrophes highly appropriate 
 on the Roman sepulchral altars from which they 
 were adopted, these being placed by the side of 
 the common highways, and consequently seen by 
 every viator, or traveller, who passed along them; 
 but altogether incongruous in a place of worship, 
 whither people go for other purposes than to read 
 the puerilities of vanity, or nonsense of pedantry. 
 Newton church stands upon a bed of white 
 lyas, in which are imbedded astonishing quantities 
 of the casts or impressions of that singular fossil 
 the Cornu Ammonis. These accompany our road 
 through Corston and Keynsham, exhibiting them- 
 selves of all sizes, from the dimensions of a half- 
 crown to a diameter of twenty inches, forming a
 
 [ 7 ] 
 
 striking feature in the geology of this curious 
 county. When we see around us such abundant 
 marks of the former presence of an animal in these 
 parts, that is not now found in a live state through- 
 out the known world, curiosity is awakened, and 
 we naturally enquire the cause of their present 
 disappearance. Was their race extinguished when 
 the continents were raised from the bosom of the 
 great deep? or do they still reside, far removed 
 out of the reach of human vision, at the bottom 
 of the present world of waters? or has the whole 
 race been extinguished by the increasing power of 
 their enemies? oris it the nature of some animals 
 to transmigrate into other forms, and in time to 
 become new genera ? These questions instinctively 
 occur to the mind, with such a phcenomenon be- 
 fore us; but it ought to humble the pride of 
 human knowledge, to reflect: that, deep and exten- 
 sive as we proudly boast it to be, it is unable to 
 give a satisfa&ory answer to any one of them. 
 Dropping again into the great road, we passed 
 through the village of Keynsham, seven miles from 
 Bath, famous formerly for its abbey, and after- 
 wards for its woollen manufactory; both of which 
 have fulfilled the doom of all sublunary things, 
 and are now no more. Its name is said to have 
 been connected with a miracle, which, if allowed tq
 
 C 8 ] 
 
 be authentic, would at once settle all the doubts of 
 the naturalist with respect to the frequent appear- 
 ance of the Cornua Ammonis in these parts, by 
 accounting very satisfactorily for their production. 
 A Welch lady, by name Keyna, daughter of the 
 king of Brecknockshire, lived in the year 490, 
 and being very beautiful as well as rich, suitors 
 poured in to her from all quarters of Cambria. 
 A rash vow, however, which she had made of 
 living and dying a virgin, precluded the possibility 
 of her listening to any of them ; and in order to 
 avoid solicitations which became irksome to her, 
 and to indulge her fondness for meditation and 
 solitude, she secretly quitted the court of her 
 father, crossed the Severn, and wandering into the 
 neighbourhood of Keynsham, pitched upon the 
 banks of the Avon at that place for the scene of 
 her solitary devotions. It was necessary, however, 
 for her to request permission of the chieftain of 
 the district to reside there; which he (too well 
 bred to refuse the request of a lady) immediately 
 gave, lamenting at the same time, that the place 
 was so infested with serpents, as to render a resi- 
 dence upon it extremely dangerous. To this the 
 virgin replied, that she had no doubt of being able 
 to destroy the whole race in a short time by her 
 prayers, the efficacy of which had often produced
 
 [ 9 ], 
 
 equal wonders. She .accordingly took possession 
 of the place, and setting actively to work, exor- 
 cised in a short time the whole family of snakes, 
 and like another Medusa, converted them into the 
 serpent-stones which now strew the surface of the 
 country in this neighbourhood. 
 
 In after times Keynsham became again, for some 
 centuries, the theatre of lying miracles and gross 
 superstition; William Earl of Gloucester founding 
 an abbey of Black Canons in the year 1170, 
 which, being enriched by several earls of that 
 family, disgorged its wealth into the coffers of 
 Henry Vlll. in the year 1539. No vestige of 
 it remains at present, but the fine broad flat mea- 
 dow in which it stood, washed by the waters of 
 the Avon, evinces that it enjoyed a pleasing and 
 judicious situation. After the destruction of the 
 conventual buildings, a noble house was erected 
 on its scite by a branch of the Bridges family, into 
 whose possession Keynsham came by grant from 
 Edward VI. in 1452. Chiefly constructed with 
 the materials of the abbey-church, where the 
 bodies of several of the earls of Gloucester and 
 other great men were interred, the manor-house, 
 " built in the eclipse,' ' and marked by sacrilege, 
 did not endure so long as its massiveness or gran- 
 deur promised or deserved, but was taken down,
 
 I 10 ] 
 
 and every vestige of it removed, in the year 1776. 
 Many of the former possessors of the manor of 
 Keynsham, after it had passed into the Bridges* 
 family, have been buried in the noble Gothic 
 church placed in the centre of the town; a most 
 immaculate race, were we to believe their epitaphs, 
 each individual exhibiting a pattern of every human 
 excellence! But sepulchral adulation is so com- 
 mon, that I will not tire you with any examples of 
 what every tomb-stone may afford you; the fol- 
 lowing epitaph has another claim to your atten- 
 tion, that of singular quaintness and conceit. It 
 is only to be regretted, that the tomb does not 
 cover the remains of a butcher, as the wit would 
 then be compleat : 
 
 " Grim Death the eater meate doth givej 
 
 <c By that which did me kill, I live. 
 
 *.' The grave devours me, but I shall 
 
 " Live to see its funeral ; 
 
 " After some ages more are spent, 
 
 " The gluttonous grave shall keep a Lent." 
 
 To that striking feature in the natural history 
 of Keynsham, mentioned above, the profusion of 
 Cornua Ammonis which it produces, may be added 
 two other curious circumstances attached to it; 
 the quantities of that precious dying plant the 
 woad t produced round the town, and a luxury 
 which its inhabitants occasionally enjoy in tfyc
 
 C 11 ] 
 
 early season of the year, when the tide, whose 
 influence is perceived as far up as Keynsham, 
 comes accompanied thither by that delicious little 
 fish called the elver. 
 
 On passing through Brislington, two miles from 
 Bristol, we could not help smiling at an instance 
 of modern credulity which an inscription on an 
 ancient stone in the church-yard hands down to 
 posterity. About thirty years ago, the active 
 churchwardens of Brislington, in clearing the 
 church-yard and its accompaniments, discovered 
 on an old tomb the following notification of a re- 
 markable instance of longevity : "1542. Thomas 
 " Newman, aged 153." With due regard to the 
 preservation of so curious a fact, they had the 
 tomb repaired and brushed up, and the following 
 inscription added to the original one: " This stone 
 " was new faced in the year 1771, to perpetuate 
 the great age of the deceased/* It was not till 
 their official authority to repair and beautify, pull 
 down and remove, had ceased, that they understood 
 the figure 1 had been prefixed by a wicked wit; 
 and themselves duped by this false addition, which 
 gave an antediluvian age to an honest man who 
 died before he had reached his grand climacteric! 
 
 Frequent evidences of the wealth of Bristol 
 GCcur on all sides as we approach that city, in nu-
 
 C 12 ] 
 
 merous handsome mansions, the quiet retreats of 
 its successful citizens, forming a rich pifture of 
 rural decoration; in which, however, it must be 
 confessed, that expence, generally speaking, is 
 more predominant than taste. But all elegance is 
 confined to the outside of the city, for its entrances 
 are bad, and its streets for the most part ill-built 
 and inconvenient, and rendered, indeed, in some 
 degree dangerous by the formidable sledges which 
 are used here instead of carts; and which, pur- 
 suing a zig-zag course, threaten to crush or over- 
 turn any lighter carriage they may chance to en- 
 counter in their devious way. Standing partly in 
 the county of Somerset, and partly in that of 
 Glocester, Bristol belongs to neither of those 
 shires, but is a county in itself, and has its own 
 magistracy and peculiar jurisdiction. 
 
 The situation of this place is at once pleasant 
 and salutary, a rising ground between the rivers 
 Avon and Frome, up the northern acclivity of 
 which the city has gradually crept, and was still 
 extending its progress, when some failures among 
 the principal adventurers suddenly checked its 
 growth, and left a large proportion of the most 
 elegant edifices that Bristol could boast, in a state 
 of incomplction. Nor is it probable that these 
 additions to the parent city will ever be finished;
 
 C 13 3 
 
 the trade of the place having been in a state of 
 gentle decline for some time past, owing to the 
 inconvenience of its rivers, and the oppressive 
 nature of its port-dues. Capital, however, will 
 always command a certain quantity of commerce; 
 and the riches of Bristol (larger in proportion to 
 the size of the place than those of any other 
 town in the kingdom) wafts into its ports, in 
 spite of these disadvantages, a share of the West- 
 India trade. More than a moiety of this traffic 
 has indeed been enticed away from hence to 
 Liverpool, by the superior convenience of the rjver 
 and docks there; but if Bristol have relinquished 
 to her rival the palm of honourable commerce, 
 she has thrown into her arms at the same time 
 a trade that tarnished her own mercantile cha- 
 racter as long as she continued the favourite of 
 commerce, (the African slave-trade) and thus re- 
 venged herself amply for her loss, by blasting the 
 honour of the spoiler. Under a decreasing popu- 
 lation she still contains seventy thousand inha- 
 bitants; is ornamented with nineteen churches, as 
 many dissenting chapels; and exhibits a nume- 
 rous catalogue of manufactories, amongst which 
 are twenty glass-houses; several copper and iron 
 foundries ; two large speculations for fabricating 
 floor-cloth; a patent shot manufa&ory; lead-
 
 [ 14 ] 
 
 works; brass-mills; potteries; a patent rolling- 
 machine for paper; and a curious patent manu- 
 factory, which has for its object the facilitating the 
 rotation and lessening the friction of an axis, by 
 means of auxiliary wheels. 
 
 In the walks of literature, science, and natural 
 philosophy, also, Bristol has made and still makes 
 a respectable figure, vindicating her character from 
 that charge of Ba?otian dullness, and indifference 
 to every thing but objects of interest and money 
 speculations, which it has been the practice to 
 attach to it. The gigantic intellect and sublime 
 genius of Coleridge, which were here first pub- 
 licly developed, evince that this city is not unge- 
 nial to the cultivation and encouragement of the 
 higher gifts of the mind; Chatterton, second only 
 to his monodist* in the rare endowment of lofty 
 fancy, here first saw the light, and tuned his infant 
 pipe; Southey's muse here, also, poured forth 
 those beautiful effusions which rank the author of 
 the Joan of Arc amongst the first poets of the 
 day; and the two Cottles, " Arcades ambo" 
 having given, from their own press, works which 
 would add to the fame of any poets of the day. 
 The justly-celebrated philosopher and physician 
 
 Sec Coleridge's Monody on the Death of Chatterton.
 
 C 15 3 
 
 Dr. Beddoes has proved that the Bristolians do 
 not want that laudable curiosity in their character, 
 which is the only parent of real knowlege, when a 
 proper stimulus is held out to excite it, by the 
 useful scientific institutions he has been able to 
 establish under their munificent encouragement. 
 This distinguished medical author held some years 
 since the professorship of chemistry at Oxford; 
 but circumstances occurring which induced him to 
 resign his situation, he withdrew from the univer- 
 sity, and established himself at Clifton. This 
 situation he was induced to make choice of, as a 
 place of all others best calculated to afford oppor- 
 tunities of trying some new modes of practice in 
 consumption, deduced from ingenious and profound 
 speculation upon that important subject. The 
 same spirit of scientific and philanthropic investi- 
 gation which turned his attention to the means of 
 ameliorating this dreadful scourge of youth, inno- 
 cence, and beauty, led him also to the formation of 
 an establishment in Bristol, (by private subscrip- 
 cription) called the Pneumatic Institution, for the 
 purpose of ascertaining the peculiar medicinal pro- 
 perties of some new chemical agents, as well as for 
 the general extension of chemical physiology and 
 philosophic medicine. Here his exertions were 
 seconded by the liberality of the citizens, and
 
 C 16 ] 
 
 his labours assisted by the co-operation of extraor- 
 dinary talent, in the person of a young man, Mr. 
 Humphry Davy, fa phcenomenon in chemical 
 knowledge and its adjunfts) who is since removed 
 to a wider scene for the display of his genius, the 
 chair of the Royal Institution, in Albermarle-street, 
 London. Under the auspices of these two great 
 philosophic characters, the Pneumatic Institution has 
 made considerable progress in the discovery of new 
 fa&s for the enlargement and improvement of 
 medical science. To it we are indebted for the 
 very ingenious and able analysis and application 
 of a new gas, by Mr. Davy, called the nitrous 
 oxyd; which is found to produce effects upon the 
 nervous system and organs of sense equally extra- 
 ordinary and delightful. It excites a flow of the 
 most pleasurable ideas and exhilarating emotions, 
 unattended with consequent debility, languor, or 
 depression; effects which lead to the hope that it 
 may be capable of restoring decayed nervous 
 energy, and of arresting its premature diminution. 
 The institution has also afforded a field fbr exten- 
 sive trials of a new and valuable remedy in con- 
 sumptions, the Digitalis or Fox-Glove; and with a 
 degree of success that establishes its powers as in- 
 comparably superior to any means hitherto em- 
 ployed in this cruel and depopulating disorder.
 
 C 17 ] 
 
 These and other particulars connected with the 
 cure and prevention of consumption are develo- 
 ped in two admirable essays on the disease by Dr. 
 Beddoes; publications which no parent or person 
 entrusted with the care of youth should be without. 
 The spirit of laudable curiosity, and the diffu- 
 sion of useful and ornamental knowledge, are kept 
 alive and assisted at Bristol by another establish- 
 ment of a more general nature than the one I have 
 been describing to you; a public Library, founded 
 originally by an individual, who bequeathed his 
 collection of books for that purpose, since en- 
 larged, and at present supported by regulations 
 the most liberal and judicious. To become a mem- 
 ber of this institution, it is necessary to pay five- 
 guineas in the first instance, and one guinea annu- 
 ally; which gives a property in the books, trans- 
 ferable by sale, or devisable by will. Two large 
 commodious rooms contain the collection, which, 
 disdaining to be fettered by party prejudice, re- 
 ceives volumes written on every side, provided they 
 have merit for their recommendation. The ante- 
 room, or first apartment, is fitted up after the man- 
 ner of theBodleian and Manchester libraries, having 
 presses for the books at right angles with the side 
 of the room, and accommodations for the reader 
 in the divisions between them; here are placed the
 
 c is : 
 
 large collection left by the original founder, none of 
 which, are allowed to be removed from the library 
 on any account. The inner room, equally large 
 with the other, contains the books purchased by 
 the monies arising from the entrance deposit and 
 the annual subscriptions; these are arranged 
 against the sides, and divided into two parts by a 
 gallery. The books in this room may be taken 
 out by the subscribers, and carried home; return- 
 able, however, after a certain time. Two libra- 
 rians are appointed to regulate the establishment; 
 the chief of whom has a house appropriated to his 
 use, and a salary of 70I. per annum. 
 
 Nor should I forget, whilst thus enumerating 
 the good points of Bristol, to mention its many 
 humane establishments for the comfort, solace, 
 and relief of poverty and sickness. The cefebrated 
 Colston, a second Man of Ross, has immortalized 
 the character of the Bristol merchant by some of 
 the most noble institutions that a private individual 
 ever had either ability or liberality to establish. 
 His school, in particular, which gives education, 
 board, clothing, and subsequent settlement in life, 
 to the children which it receives under its protec- 
 tion, does honour to his understanding as well as 
 his heart ; and at once attaches to his character 
 the two most glorious titles of wise and good.
 
 C 19 ] 
 
 Another most interesting chanty, only to be 
 found, I believe, in this place and Liverpool, adds 
 to the respect we feel for the Bristol character. It 
 is a School of Industry for the Indigent Blind, 
 formed in 1793, and supported by the voluntary 
 contributions of the public. Here those unfortu- 
 nate beings, who, (the blessing of sight being de- 
 nied to them) may apply to themselves the pa- 
 thetic lament of Milton: 
 
 " For with the year 
 " Seasons return ; but not to us return 
 " Day, nor the sweet approach of ev'n or morn., 
 " Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, 
 " Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine? 
 " But clouds instead, and ever-during dark 
 " Surround us? from the cheerful ways of men 
 " Cut off, and, for the Book of Knowledge fair, 
 " Presented with an universal blank!" 
 
 Here they are taught to earn their livelihood by 
 the labour of their hands; and by these means re- 
 lieved from that most distressing of all convictions, 
 the conviction of being a burthen on society. Their 
 employments are of several sorts; that of the 
 males is chiefly basket-making; of the females spin- 
 ning, and making laces for women's stays. No 
 sight can be more interesting or affecting than 
 this little seminary, its scholars busied in their 
 respective avocations. All is cheerfulness, anima- 
 vol. 1. c
 
 t 20 ] 
 
 tion, and industry; escaped from that melancholy 
 mental vacuity, that necessary inaction which the 
 privation of sight induces, these unfortunate ob- 
 jects feel a felicity in employment not to be con- 
 ceived by those who are in possession of vision. 
 The eagerness with which they receive instruction, 
 and the inflexible patience and perseverance they 
 display in endeavouring to profit by it, strongly 
 mark those natural principles engrafted in man, to 
 the love of action, and the desire of independence. 
 The institution only extends to the instruction of 
 the blind in the manner of living by their own ex- 
 ertions, but the expences even of this limited plan, 
 and of articles necessary for their work, amount to 
 500I. per annum. You will be pleased, however, to 
 see by the following statement of the annual profits 
 of their labour since the first formation of the esta- 
 blishment, that they ruive been gradually increasing 
 in the yearly amount, and promise soon to be suffi- 
 cient of themselves for the support of the school, 
 without the aid of voluntary contributions: 
 
 Receipt from Sales of Articles manufactured in 
 the School. 
 
 
 JC. s. d. 
 
 
 . s. 
 
 d. 
 
 First Year 
 
 - 18 3 6' s 
 
 Fourth Year 
 
 154 15 
 
 
 
 Second Year 
 
 - 82 17 11 
 
 Fifth Year 
 
 188 12 
 
 
 Third Year 
 
 125 7 10; 
 Last Year 
 
 Sixth Year 
 3911. 10;. 
 
 262 9 
 
 *
 
 C 21 ] 
 
 Almost as soon as we have fairly quitted 
 Bristol, and stretched beyond the heavy atmos- 
 phere of black smoke which generally involves 
 it, we enter upon one of the richest spots of 
 English ground the Vale of Glocester watered 
 by the Severn, and spreading before us a carpet of 
 unbounded fertility, for twenty miles in length. 
 Centuries back, before the bounty of nature had 
 been aided here by judicious agriculture, the ferti- 
 lity of Glocester Vale was the theme of the histori- 
 an's praise, and the subject of the poet's encomium. 
 The honest and sensible William of Malmsbury 
 tells us, that it produced in great abundance fruits 
 and grain, the joint effe&s of its fine soil, and the 
 labour of its hinds; who were stimulated to work, 
 by having their exertions rewarded with a produce 
 of one hundred fold. " In this favoured spot you 
 6 may behold," says he, " the public highways 
 4 shaded and adorned with trees loaded with fruit, 
 6 not placed there by the hand of man, but by 
 c the generosity of nature. The earth spontane- 
 c ously brings forth her gifts, fruits of the richest 
 ' taste and brightest beauty; which, almost im- 
 4 perishable, may be preserved from the time of 
 6 their being taken in, till the season of gathering 
 ( again returns. Grapes, famous for their flavour, 
 c are here produced in quantities, and manufac-
 
 [ 22 ] 
 
 " tured into wines of the highest relish, equally 
 " luscious with those of France. Numerous towns 
 " overspread the vale, which is further enriched 
 " with populous villages, and costly places of public 
 * e worship." Drayton, too, in his Polyolbion, 
 personifying this fertile tract of country, makes it 
 boast an excellence, which it may assert with truth 
 and justice: 
 
 " I which am the queene 
 " Of all the British vales, and so have ever been 
 " Since Goner's giant brood inhabited this isle, 
 " And that of all the rest myself may so enstile." 
 
 Divided, for the most part, into small farms, 
 this happy tract of country has hitherto been pre- 
 served, in some measure, from that unnatural rise 
 in the prices of the articles of life which those 
 districts labour under, where, the land being 
 thrown into a few hands, combination is easy, and 
 the markets are at the mercy of a junto of over- 
 grown farmers, whose only object is to fill their 
 coffers at the expence of the country around them. 
 Cheese, the boasted produce of the Vale, still sells 
 as low as 43, 44, and 45s. per cwt.; and butter, 
 equally excellent in its kind, at iod. 1 id. and 
 is. per lb. 
 
 Little arable husbandry is to be seen as we pass 
 through this extensive flat; and where it does
 
 [ 23 ] 
 
 occur, the bean seems to be the favourite seed of 
 the husbandman; which is here dibbled or set by 
 hand in rows, twelve inches distant from each 
 other, and hoed and cleaned with a vigilance and 
 care that place the Giocestershire farmers high on 
 the list of admirable agriculturists. Best calcula- 
 ted for dairy farming, the land of this county for 
 many miles is chiefly applied to this purpose; and 
 the profits which accrue from it, may be best col- 
 lected from the prodigious quantity of cheese manu- 
 factured in it, which is said to amount to between 
 seven and eight thousand tons annually. 
 
 The advantages of this part of Giocestershire 
 are greatly increased by the canal, which crosses 
 the road at right angles near the eighth mile-stone 
 from Glocester, and connects the Severn with the 
 interior of the county; a communication that ena- 
 bles the manufacturers and dyers of the clothing 
 country to import at a trifling expence the large 
 quantities of coals consumed in their works, as well 
 as to convey their cloths at a reasonable rate to the 
 shore of the Severn, to be shipped for the foreign 
 market. Begun forty years ago, when the advan- 
 tages resulting from speculations of this nature 
 were not so well ascertained as at present, the 
 Stroud canal only proceeded a few miles towards 
 the Severn, the place of its destination, and was
 
 [ 2* ] 
 
 then relinquished by the projectors, under the idea 
 of its being a scheme, that, if persisted in, could 
 turn to no profitable account. Fifteen years of 
 neglect elapsed, when the attention of the under- 
 takers being again roused by the prodigious suc- 
 cess and advantage which attended the canal spe- 
 culations in Lancashire, Staffordshire, and the 
 northern counties of the kingdom, they determined 
 to compleat their work; and proceeded seriously 
 to its execution in the year 1775, under the sanc- 
 tion of an aft of parliament obtained for that pur- 
 pose. In four years the cut was finished and 
 opened, having been led to the point of its termi- 
 nation in so direct a line, part of the way, (from 
 Walbridge to Framilode, about ten miles) as to be 
 nearer by two miles than the turnpike-road. The 
 result has answered the most sanguine expectations 
 of the proprietors, as well as produced incalculable 
 convenience to the clothing country through which 
 it ramifies by different branches. At the point 
 where it reaches the Glocester turnpike, Mr. 
 Purnel, of Dursley, has established a large mill for 
 the manufacture of iron wire. 
 
 But unqualified success is by no means the ne- 
 cessary consequence of canal speculations; various 
 circumstances must combine to render them advan- 
 tageous to the projectors, and many instances occur
 
 [ 25 ] 
 
 of immense sums having been lavished in schemes 
 of this kind, without producing the expected lucra- 
 tive return. An example of such a disappoint- 
 ment occurred to us when we came within two 
 miles of Glocester, where the Stone canal, running 
 from that city, approaches the road, and accompa- 
 nies it in a parallel direction for some distance. 
 The intention was to lead this cut through Berkley 
 into the Severn, and a large sum was instantly 
 subscribed for that purpose; but after proceeding 
 four miles, the fund being exhausted, the sharers 
 perceived too late, that they had over-rated the 
 probable profits of the scheme; and considering 
 the first loss as the best, they refused to involve 
 themselves deeper by a further advance, and relin- 
 quished the prosecution of the work. The only 
 purpose, therefore, to which the cut is now ap- 
 plied is the carriage of coal from Glocester to the 
 parishes bordering upon its banks. 
 
 From this point we first caught a view of the city 
 of Glocester, or rather of its rich ecclesiastical 
 architecture, the summits of which shoot out from 
 the surrounding wood, and present a beautiful and 
 magnificent groupe of towers and spires; whilst 
 the rising hills to the right (amongst which that of 
 Robin-Hood is most conspicuous) cultivated to 
 their tops, present a scene of uncommon splendour
 
 [ 26 ] 
 
 and variety. Under the shelter of these elevations 
 Glocester is situated in the long extended vale 
 called by its name, and washed by the majestic 
 Severn, who rolls his waters to the left of the 
 city. Founded originally by the Romans, (for the 
 boasted British town upon its scite consisted only 
 of a few wattled cottages) it presents an example of 
 those sensible and judicious principles upon which 
 all the military towns of this sagacious people 
 were constru&ed. The >uadrivium, or center of 
 the parallelogram which the walls described, 
 where the four principal streets diverged towards 
 the cardinal points, was the highest ground of the 
 inclosed area, from whence all the other parts of 
 the city fell by a regular and gentle descent; a 
 plan at once calculated to produce salubrity and 
 pleasantness. The form and extent of the Roman 
 Glcvum (for thus the station was called) may still 
 be plainly distinguished; for notwithstanding the 
 large additions of suburbs in after-ages, its ancient 
 walls have invariably continued to mark the limits 
 of the city. 
 
 The strength of Glocester has always rendered 
 it an object of importance to partizans in the dif- 
 ferent tumultuous scenes which civil convulsion has 
 excited in this country; but at no period does its 
 military history make so conspicuous and memo-
 
 C 27 ] 
 
 rable a figure, as during the struggles in the 1 7th 
 century, between monarchy and republicanism. 
 The successful resistance which it made against the 
 attempts of the royal forces, who were frequently 
 foiled before its walls, has been said to be the com- 
 mencement of that train of misfortunes which fol- 
 lowed the unhappy Charles with little interruption 
 from the year 1643, and were only closed by his 
 untimely death; and a parliamentarian orator of 
 the time declared, that " the standing out of this 
 " place made it the vertical point in the civil war; 
 " for from that time the enemies more and more 
 " declined." Nothing, indeed, can evince the 
 supineness and languor with which the royal cause 
 was supported on this occasion, so much as the 
 comparative advantages which the besiegers pos- 
 sessed over the citizens, and the miserable termi- 
 nation of their attempt upon the place an army 
 of thirty thousand men well appointed, and com- 
 manded by the king in person and the most cele- 
 brated of his generals, opposed to a garrison of 
 fifteen hundred men, ill-conditioned, and worse 
 supplied, which only possessed three barrels of 
 gunpowder at the time of its relief; loitering five 
 and twenty days before the walls of the city, losing 
 one thousand men in its ditches, and at last re- 
 treating from the place in the night before a body
 
 [ 28 ] 
 
 of forces not equal to a third of its own number. 
 Two or three other attempts were afterwards made 
 to the same efFeel:, and with similar success, by the 
 king's troops; and when force would not avail, 
 the fidelity of its garrison was attempted to be 
 shaken by bribery; but the plan being frustrated, 
 by its discovery to the governor, all further endea- 
 vours to become possessed of the place were drop- 
 ped by the royal party, and Glocester continued 
 steady to the Commonwealth till the period of the 
 Restoration. 
 
 The destruction of its suburbs during the trou- 
 bles just mentioned had reduced Glocester to its 
 original dimensions, as they had been marked out 
 by the Romans; but as soon as the return of 
 regular government and public order restored pub- 
 lic confidence and the spirit of speculation, new 
 buildings arose upon the scite of those which had 
 been overturned, and the environs of the town 
 gradually grew to the extent and beauty which 
 they now exhibit. Including these in the calcula- 
 tion, the population of die city at present is esti- 
 mated at eight thousand souls. 
 
 A languid manufactory of pins gives some little 
 degree of life to the trade of Glocester, which, 
 however, is only the shadow of what it was pre- 
 viously to its experiencing the paralyzing effects of
 
 [ 29 ] 
 
 war. Before our present contests, the markets of 
 France, Spain, and Portugal, kept its pin-merchants 
 in active employ, and poured a considerable quantity 
 of money into the city; but the halcyon season is 
 over, and four-fifths of the workmen formerly em- 
 ployed in this branch of business have long since 
 been obliged to turn to other methods of labour 
 for a subsistence. 
 
 The two most remarkable public edifices which 
 arrest a stranger's attention here, are the cathedral 
 and the gaol ; the former a fine specimen of ancient 
 architecture, the latter a noble instance of modern 
 philanthropy. Nothing can exceed the beautiful 
 lightness of the tower of the cathedral, relieved 
 by open worked pinnacles at each corner j nor is 
 a grander example of the fine Saxon style (as it is 
 called) to be found, than in the nave of the building. 
 These members are the most ancient of the struc- 
 ture, the one raised by abbot Henry Foliot in 
 1237, the other by abbot Serlo one hundred and 
 fifty years before. Built by Norman architects, 
 the form of the edifice is similar to that generally 
 adopted by this people a cross, consisting of a 
 nave, two side-ailes, a transept, and choir, with a 
 Lady's chapel afterwards added j a form suggested 
 by that of the engine of torture on which the sal- 
 vation of mankind was effected. Its length east
 
 [ 30 ] 
 
 and west is four hundred and twenty feet; north 
 and south, one hundred and forty-four feet ; the 
 breadth of the body, eightv-four feet ; the height of 
 the choir, eighty -four feet; and that of the tower, 
 two hundred and twenty-two feet. Eight enor- 
 mous Saxon pillars on each side, upwards of 
 twenty-one feet in circumference, separate the 
 nave from the side-ailes. The most remarkable 
 features of the structure are the grand East Win- 
 dow, said to be the largest in the kingdom; 
 the Lady's Chapel, of extraordinary dimensions; 
 the beautifully ramified Roof of the Choir; and the 
 singular Whispering-Gallery, which stretches from 
 one side of this part of the cathedral to the 
 other, at the eastern end. Its form is a semi- 
 o&agon, and its length seventy-five feet; the phe- 
 nomenon which we were directed to remark here, 
 is the circulation of a whisper in a clear and distinft 
 manner, delivered by a person placed at one end 
 of the passage, and received by the ear of one 
 placed at the other extremity. This effect is the 
 more difficult to be accounted for, as the gallery- 
 contains several openings in it, by which it should 
 seem the volume of sound would be interrupted or 
 dissipated. General opinion, however, attributes 
 it to the repercussion produced by the angles which 
 the form of the gallery occasions in its interior.
 
 [ 31 ] 
 
 Our ancestors observed the effeft without trou- 
 bling themselves to ascertain the cause, and applied 
 it to the purposes of religious instruction, by in- 
 scribing the following lines upon the wall: 
 
 " Doubt not but God, who sits on high, 
 
 " Thy secret prayer can hear 5 
 " When a dead wall thus cunningly 
 
 " Conveys soft whispers to the ear." 
 
 The cathedral contains several curious ancient 
 monuments, surmounted by the effigies of the de- 
 parted great; amongst the rest are, a crowned 
 figure representing Osric king of the Huicii, with 
 an inscription explaining the reason of his bones 
 finding a resting-place in this hallowed spot: 
 " Osricus Rex primus fundator hujus Monasterii, 
 " 681." Robert, the unfortunate eldest son of 
 William the Conqueror. Richard, his youngest 
 son. Aldred, the builder of the first abbey church 
 of Glocester, which was afterwards destroyed. 
 Parker, the last abbot of the monastery. The 
 alabaster effigy of Edward the Second, under a 
 very handsome canopy of free-stone. A beautiful 
 tomb and figure in alabaster of abbot Scabroke; 
 and another of the great Humphry Bohun Earl of 
 Hereford, who died 1367, and his lady. The 
 cloisters form a large square of one hundred and 
 fifty feet every way, of elegant architecture, and
 
 [ 32 ] 
 
 in the most perfect: preservation; the beauties of 
 which are secured to posterity by an admirable 
 little engraving published by Mr. Bonnor of Glo- 
 cester, amongst others of different parts of the 
 cathedral, and buildings connected with it. 
 
 Our visit to the gaol produced a mingled emo- 
 tion of pity and gratification; commiseration for 
 those whom the laws of society render it necessary 
 to punish or to deprive of the inestimable blessing 
 of personal liberty; and pleasure in observing the 
 humane and judicious regulations adopted to rob 
 the melancholy interval between commitment and 
 trial of unnecessary rigors, and to render confine- 
 ment the parent of industry and the nurse of re- 
 flection. Built a few years since on a plan sug- 
 gested by the venerable philanthropist the late Mr. 
 Howard, Glocester gaol embraces every accom- 
 modation and convenience of building, and every 
 internal arrangement that sagacity united with 
 humanity could contrive for the comfort and im- 
 provement of its unhappy inmates. The admirable 
 disposition of the whole strikes the mind on the 
 first glance; and an attention to its detail to the 
 different parts of crime confirms the impression 
 which it has received. Here we observe a due 
 regard to the gradations of vice, in the manner of 
 grouping the prisoners; nor are the more venial
 
 C 33 ] 
 
 offenders at once taught to bid adieu to all remain- 
 ing sense of shame by being mingled with villains 
 of the deepest dye. One division of the interior 
 part receives felons of the first class, or most atro- 
 cious description; another is appropriated to those 
 of the second class, or the less hardened sons of 
 enormity; a third confines the debtors; and a 
 fourth is occupied by the penitentiaries, or those 
 who are about to expiate their offences by death. 
 
 It was with pleasure we observed, that the un- 
 fortunate persons on the crown side were saved 
 from the horrors of that gloomy vacuity of mind 
 which complete inaction produces in the ignorant 
 and unlettered, or prevented from that still more 
 dangerous activity which too often pervades a com- 
 munity of rogues, by their all being occupied in 
 some little manufactory or useful employment; 
 thus making some amends to society for their 
 former idleness or violences, and at the same time 
 acquiring habits of industry that may protect them 
 from temptations to plunder in future, should they 
 be again turned loose among their fellow-citizens. 
 We could not, however, read the contents of the 
 calendar without shuddering, which informed, us 
 there were confined in the gaol no less than two 
 hundred and six prisoners, one hundred and forty 
 of whom were felons; a larger number than had
 
 [ 34 ] 
 
 ever been known to be imprisoned there before. 
 In order to preserve cleanliness and health, each 
 prisoner has his own separate apartment, contain- 
 ing an iron bedstead, a small oaken box, and other 
 necessaries; and to prevent disorderly conduct 
 amongst this large society, small dark cells are 
 provided for the refractory, who there do penance 
 in solitary confinement for a certain number of 
 hours, according to their offences. 
 
 Traits of character, you know, occur as fre- 
 quently in a gaol as on the outside of the walls ; 
 
 and V and myself could not help remarking 
 
 a very singular one, which the little apartment of 
 one of the debtors afforded. It belonged to a 
 noted horse-jockey, who at the time was walking 
 in the prison-yard. Peeping into it, we observed 
 four volumes lying upon the window-seat; " Oh!" 
 
 said V , " here is a philosophical prisoner; 
 
 " probably one who employs the hours of confine- 
 " ment in edifying reading, or serious contempla- 
 " tion ;" when, opening one of the books, we per- 
 ceived it was the " Racing Calendar,'* and lifting 
 up the lid of the box, discovered in it two pair of 
 nicely-blacked boots, and a polished pair of spurs. 
 So true is it that no situation is able to destroy the 
 ruling passion ; for, as I Iorace has justly observed : 
 
 " Naturam expellas I'urca, tamen usque rccurrct."
 
 [ 35 ] 
 
 The vast sum of forty thousand pounds was swal- 
 lowed up in the ere&ion of Glocester gaol; but 
 I will venture to assert, that on attentively consi- 
 dering its arrangement and advantages, no rational 
 or humane man will say the money has been inju- 
 diciously expended. Before we quitted Glocester, 
 we paid a visit to its quay, to which vessels of one 
 hundred tons may be navigated. The business of 
 this port is subject to the management and super- 
 vision of a customer and comptroller, a searcher, 
 surveyor, and two boatmen; a privilege conferred 
 on the city by Queen Elizabeth, in the twenty- 
 second year of her reign. 
 
 A similar rich flat to that which we had before 
 passed through in our way to Glocester, conti- 
 nued to accompany us as we proceeded towards 
 Tewksbury; offering the additional beauty of ex- 
 tensive orchards, which breathed their odours 
 through the air, and enriched the scene with a 
 widely-extended sheet of beautiful blossom. As 
 we approached Tewksbury, our curiosity was na- 
 turally excited with respect to the scene of a battle 
 which had proved fatal to the fortunes of the 
 Lancastrian party, and fixed the doom of the un- 
 fortunate Henry Vlth. On enquiry we found it 
 in a field or meadow, called appropriately Bloody 
 Meadow, about a quarter of a mile to the west- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 [ 36 ] 
 
 ward of the church. Here the undaunted Mar- 
 garet exerted herself for the last time in behalf of 
 her fallen husband, and fought one of the most 
 bloody battles which the English annals record. 
 The invincible spirit of this heroine, who could 
 bear up against the shocks of disaster and the 
 reiterated blows of misfortune, is well depicted in 
 the address which Shakespeare has made her deliver 
 to her troops previously to this decisive engagement; 
 where, after urging every motive to animate and 
 encourage that greatness of mind could suggest, 
 she concludes with a magnanimous refle&ion, that 
 ever actuated her own conduct, in the various and 
 unparallelled trials to which her chequered fortunes 
 had exposed her 
 
 " Why, courage, then! what cannot be avoided, 
 " Twere childish weakness to lament or fear." 
 
 Seconded by the gallantry of her son, the ardour 
 
 of Edmund Beaufort Duke of Somerset, who 
 
 commanded the van division, and the devoted 
 
 attachment of a considerable army, Margaret might 
 
 have been hailed the victor of the day, had there 
 
 been as much knowledge and judgment as courage 
 
 and fervour in her generals; but the inexperience 
 
 of the Prince, and the impetuosity of the Duke, 
 
 threw the advantage of the battle into the scale of 
 
 the more wary Edward and his abler chieftains.
 
 [ 37 ] 
 
 The cunning Glocester was directed to entice 
 Somerset from his strong position, by the appear- 
 ance of a flight. The Duke instantly fell into the 
 snare, and rushing forward from his intrenchments 
 in loose array, exposed his line to the attack of 
 Glocester, who immediately forming his troops into 
 a firm battalion, faced about, returned to the 
 charge, and penetrated with ease the open files of 
 his incautious adversaries, pursuing them into the 
 very intrenchments with horrible slaughter. Thrown 
 completely off his guard by this unexpected arti- 
 fice, Somerset became mad with passion, and riding 
 furiously up to the Lord Wenlock, (second to him 
 in command) who had not advanced to the sup- 
 port of his line, he cleft him to the earth with a 
 stroke of his battle-axe. The troops, astonished 
 at this act of rashness, gave way on every side; 
 the rout became general; three thousand Lancas- 
 trians were cut to pieces; and the Queen and her 
 son taken prisoners. Somerset himself escaped 
 the carnage, and, accompanied by a party of 
 knights and gentlemen, cut his way through the 
 enemy, and retired into the abbey-church. Pro- 
 tected by the sanctity of the place, they flattered 
 themselves they should escape destruction, and be 
 admitted to terms; but the passions which are 
 called out in civil broils know no distinction of
 
 [ 38 ] 
 
 place or ties; they were forcibly torn from the 
 asylum, and led to immediate execution. Prince 
 Edward was reserved to be murdered in cold blood; 
 Shakespeare, you know, with the truth of the his- 
 torian, has handed down to us the high-spirited 
 language which induced his assassination: 
 " K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak. 
 What? can so young a thorn begin to prick? 
 Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, 
 For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, 
 And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? 
 Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York. 
 Suppose that I am now my father's mouth, 
 Resign thy chair, and where I stand, kneel thou, 
 Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee, 
 Which, traitor, thou would'st have me answer to. 
 Queen. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd! 
 Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat, 
 And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. 
 Prince. Let JEsop fable in a winter's night; 
 
 His currish riddles sort not with this place. 
 Glo. By Heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word. 
 Queen. Aye, thou wast born to be a plague to men. 
 Glo. For God's sake take away this captive scold. 
 Prince. Nay, takeaway this scolding crook-back, rather. 
 K. Ed. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue. 
 Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. 
 Prince. I know my duty ; you are all undutiful : 
 Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, 
 And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all 
 I am your better, traitors as ye are. 
 And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. 
 A'. Ediv. Take that, thou likeness of this railer here. 
 
 [Edw. iiabs him.
 
 [ 39 ] 
 
 Glo. Sprawl'st thou ? Take that, to end thy agony. 
 
 [Rich, stabs him. 
 Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury." 
 
 [Clar. stabs him. 
 
 It is worth remarking, that tradition preserves the 
 recollection of the spot where this inhuman tragedy 
 was acted; an house on the north side of the 
 Tolsey. Margaret, after the loss of the day, had 
 concealed herself in a waggon on the field of bat- 
 tle; but being discovered in nearly an insensible 
 state, she was taken prisoner, and dispatched to 
 the Tower; whence, after continuing there four 
 years, the King of France ransomed her for fifty 
 thousand crowns. 
 
 Most of the warriors who perished in this me- 
 morable conflict, or fell under the axe of the execu- 
 tioner after it, were buried in the adjoining church; 
 a magnificent ancient structure which presents it- 
 self very advantageously to the eye, as we approach 
 the town, the road taking a circuitous course in 
 order to humour the flexure of a river. This edi- 
 fice is almost the only remain of the mitred monas- 
 tery of Tewksbury, whose lord-abbot sat in the 
 House of Peers till its dissolution in the thirty-first 
 year of Henry VIII. and conveys a grand idea of 
 the former extent and splendour of this famous 
 abbey. Its plan is cruciform, three hundred feet 
 long; the transepts one hundred and twenty feet
 
 C 40 ] 
 
 from north to south ; and the body seventy feet in 
 breadth. A massive square tower rises from the 
 centre of the structure, to the height of one hun- 
 dred and thirty-two feet, of pure Anglo-Norman 
 architecture, (commonly called the Saxon style) 
 ornamented with three tiers of small blind arches; 
 the arches of each range intersecting one another, 
 as is observable in the works of that age. The 
 body of the church and part of the chancel are sup- 
 ported by eighteen pillars, nine on each side, plain 
 and round, measuring in girth twenty-one feet. 
 Above the crown of the semicircular arches which 
 these pillars support, runs a triforiutn, or passage 
 cut through the wall, which is surmounted by a 
 range of Gothic arches, as they are generally 
 called, though the style appears to be nothing more 
 than a variety of the Anglo-Norman arch, sug- 
 gested by the form which was produced by these 
 semicircles interlacing each other. We admired 
 the neatness and taste with which the choir is fitted 
 up, wherein parochial service is perfonned. Two 
 thousand pounds were expended in the work in 
 1 796. A beautiful effect is produced in this mem- 
 ber of the fabric by the hexagonal termination to 
 the cast; at which end five fine windows of richly- 
 painted glass throw " a dim religious light" over 
 the choir, that fills the mind with the most solemn
 
 C 41 ] 
 
 impressions. The exquisite ramifications of the 
 roof here, and the tracery of the windows, suffici- 
 ently indicate a later period of erection. 
 
 I have before observed to you, that several of 
 the gallant adherents of the unfortunate Henry and 
 Margaret, who fell in the battle of Tewksbury, 
 were buried within its church. Amongst them 
 was their high-spirited son Prince Edward, over 
 whose dust, in the centre of the choir, is the fol- 
 lowing inscription on a brass plate, commemorative 
 of his melancholy fate: 
 
 " Ni tota pereat Mcmoria EDWARDI PMNCIPIS 
 WALLI^E, post prcelium memorabile in vicinis 
 arvis depugnatum crudeliter occisij hanc tabulam 
 honorariam deponi curavit pietas Tewfcsburieusis, 
 Anno Domini mdccxcvi." 
 
 A rich example of florid Gothic was shewn to 
 us on the north side of the chancel; a small chapel, 
 founded by Isabella Le De Spencer Countess of 
 Warwick, to the Virgin Mary ; singular in its plan, 
 and curious in its ornaments, formerly supported 
 by six marble pillars, but at present sadly dilapi- 
 dated. An inscription round the top of it mentions 
 the date of the Countess's death, St. John's-day, 
 A. D. 1439. On the same side, within the rails 
 of the altar, a still more beautiful piece of masonry 
 occurs; a large table monument of free-stone, sur- 
 mounted by an extraordinarily fine piece of taber-
 
 C 42 ] 
 
 nacle work, consisting of four tiers of arches, gra- 
 dually diminishing to. one at the top, sculptured in 
 the finest style of the filagree Gothic. Upon the 
 monument rest the effigies of George Duke of 
 Clarence, and Isabella his Duchess, in alabaster. 
 Near this spot repose the remains of the great Nor- 
 man Baron Robert Fitz-Hamond, the founder of 
 the monastery; they are covered by a flat stone, 
 formerly ornamented with brass effigies, of which 
 sacrilege has long since despoiled it. On the south 
 s : de of the chancel, near the altar, is a small chapel, 
 dedicated to the Holy Trinity, and erected by Cecily 
 Duchess of Warwick, to the memory of her hus- 
 band; on the roof of which is the effigy of Richard 
 Neville Earl of Warwick, in armour, large as life, 
 on his knees, with clasped hands, and his person 
 turned towards the altar. In the passage at the 
 back of the altar, made for the purpose of admit- 
 ting the solemn processions which the Romish ritual 
 enjoyed on particular days, are several very ancient 
 monuments of abbots of Tewksbury; and a beau- 
 tiful free-stone tabernacle of Lord O'Brien, deco- 
 rated with the scutcheons of his arms. Upon the 
 whole, indeed, taking into account the external ar- 
 chitecture of this edifice and the rich examples of 
 masonry within it, we agreed that it was the finest 
 parochial church we had ever seen; and only la-
 
 [ 43 ] 
 
 mented that its beauties had never met the protec- 
 tion of taste till within these six years. 
 
 Tewksbury enjoys a situation similar to that 
 of Glocester. A wide and flat extent of produc- 
 tive meadow, pasture, and arable land, stretches 
 round it on all sides, intersected by four rivers, 
 which nearly insulate the town. Of these the 
 Severn is the chief, who follows the curvature of 
 a meadow to the west of the town; but the little 
 classical Avon, more affectionate, washes its walls, 
 and admits in its channel vessels of seventy tons 
 burthen. Its waters, together with those of the 
 Swilyate, which are united to them, lose themselves 
 in the Severn a small distance below the town. 
 An a&ive cotton-stocking manufactory finds em- 
 ployment for a great portion of the lower order of 
 females here, who are animated to industry by the 
 considerable profits which reward their exertions. 
 Those who weave the plain stocking, make from 
 9s. to 12s. per week; and the manufacturers of 
 the striped goods from 21s. to 25s. To the 
 honour of the working classes of the fair sex, it 
 must be admitted, that if their earnings do not 
 amount to so large a sum as those of the male ma- 
 nufacturer, yet their exemplary management of 
 them renders the pittance of more use to their 
 families than the greater gains of the husband; and
 
 C 4* ] 
 
 hence it is observable, that in all places (asatTewks- 
 bury) where the women are actively and lucratively 
 employed, there is more comfort, decency, and clean- 
 liness, in the mansions of the working order, than 
 can be found in those manufacturing towns, where 
 are opportunities of larger earnings, but all on the 
 
 side of the men : the remark was made by V , 
 
 who with the gallantry of a foreigner added, that 
 the sex had as yet neither found their level nor their 
 value in this country. The town is a corporate 
 one, and returns two members to parliament, under 
 a charter granted by James II. which confirms and 
 extends the privileges of its more ancient deed of 
 incorporation, and vests the elective franchise in the 
 freeholders and freemen of the body corporate, 
 which amounts to nearly six hundred, a number 
 that almost renders Tewksbury an open borough. 
 Its name is said to be a corruption of Dodo, the 
 founder of the first monastery here; an etymology 
 which puts us in mind of the French wit's deriva- 
 tion of lacquey, or the English one's of pipkin. 
 
 Many vestiges of antiquity are scattered through 
 the town of Tewksbury; amongst the rest a 
 compleat specimen of the domestic architecture of 
 the time of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, usually 
 called the Brick-nog building, with projecting stones 
 and pyramidal roof. Its population amounts to
 
 C ] 
 
 4199 persons. An admirable House of Industry, 
 built under an act passed in 1792, upon a good 
 plan, and subject to wise regulations, gives com- 
 fort and finds employment for that unhappy class 
 of society, the impotent and unprotected poor; 
 and at the same time considerably lessens those 
 assessments for their support which are so oppres- 
 sive at other places. 
 
 On quitting Tewksbury, the champain country 
 through which we had hitherto pursued our jour- 
 ney, swells into a hill, from whose summit we 
 obtained a fine view to the left of the Malvern 
 hills, which, starting suddenly out of a flat surface, 
 carry their proud crest to a great height above the 
 horizon for some miles, and then, dropping as ra- 
 pidly as they rose, unite again with the level country. 
 These summits form a line of incomparable beauty 
 and variety; whilst their broad declivity to the east 
 is overspread with the town of Malvern- Wells, seen 
 from afar, and their roots are lost to the eye by the 
 intervention of luxuriant woods. On each side of 
 us we saw the pear, thickly powdered with its chaste 
 blossom, and growing to an enormous size, pro- 
 mising an abundant supply of fruit for the manu- 
 facture of that delicious perry r , whose praises would 
 form a worthy subject, for the muse of a second 
 Phillips. Far and wide also, on every side, the
 
 C 46 ] 
 
 cherry is cultivated to that extent as to over- 
 whelm completely the Worcester and neighbouring 
 markets in the season with its produce. 
 
 As we proceeded, our interesting companions, 
 the Malvern hills, assumed different situations in 
 relation to us; sometimes bounding our view to 
 the left, and at others lifting themselves in front, 
 according as our road varied its direction; but on 
 approaching the beautiful village of Severn-Stoke, 
 and mounting to the head of another lofty rise of 
 ground, we caught the extremity of their elevation, 
 and threw our eye beyond them into the recesses 
 of Worcestershire, over a magnificent sweep of 
 country, bounded only by the distant heights of 
 Shropshire. The imposition of a double toll at 
 the turnpike-gate on entering Worcester from 
 Tcwksbury is recompensed in the improvement 
 lately made in the city at this quarter, by which 
 the traveller escapes the dangers of a narrow 
 street and a sharp turning, and is led into the heart 
 of Worcester through the Close, under the walls 
 of its venerable cathedral. 
 
 We could not but allow that Worcester well 
 deserved the praise of elegance which has been be- 
 stowed upon it; for no city has a greater appear- 
 ance of comfort and neatness, owing to its un- 
 commonly-large proportion of good private houses.
 
 C 47 ] 
 
 Its chief street in particular, chequered with shops 
 and handsome buildings, is striking even to the eye 
 that has been accustomed to contemplate the ar- 
 chitectural wonders of Bath. Amongst the shops 
 which ornament the High-street, that of Messrs. 
 Flight and Bar particularly engaged our attention, 
 by the rich exhibition it affords of articles from their 
 elegant manufactory; where that exquisite porce- 
 lain is made, generally known by the name of 
 Worcester china, inferior to the French only in 
 lightness and transparency. The civility of the 
 proprietors allowed us not only to survey, at our 
 leisure, the process which produces this ware, but 
 also submitted to our inspection every article of any 
 rarity or value which this large collection contains. 
 Amongst others, we were presented with some cof- 
 fee-cups, made by the order of the Grand Seignor, 
 and intended to furnish a golden stand enriched 
 with diamonds. Each contains about a third as 
 much as a common tea-cup could hold, and its 
 price is ten guineas; but the largeness of the sum 
 dwindled, in our estimation, into nothing, when 
 we observed the surpassing beauty of the paintings 
 which cover their sides, and represent the brilliant 
 success of Lord Nelson at the Nile, in different 
 points of view. The set will consist of forty-six 
 of these beautiful specimens of British china manu-
 
 [ ] 
 
 failure. The works, conveniently situated, close 
 to the Severn, which flows by the city, are remark- 
 able for their neatness and convenience; and display 
 the whole process of making porcelain, from grind- 
 ing the various articles to compose the clay used for 
 the purpose, to packing the finished pieces for the 
 market. Interesting as this manufactory is, you 
 will excuse me forgiving you its detail: The mix- 
 ture above-mentioned consists of fifteen articles, the 
 chief of which are, a white granite, from Cornwall, 
 and a steatite or soap-stone, from Penzance in the 
 same county, the whole quarry of which belongs to 
 Mr. Flight, who employs his own men there. These 
 articles being first ground separately are afterwards 
 mixed, and then calcined; the product of this 
 process is a quantity of small blue and white lumps, 
 which being thrown into a mill, and ground with 
 soft water, a liquid of the consistence of thick 
 cream is produced, perfectly white. This is passed 
 through a lawn sieve, and then poured into vats, 
 heated by outside flues in order to consolidate; the 
 degree of heat applied to them being kept under 
 the boiling temperature. The water gradually eva- 
 porating by these means from the contents of the 
 vats, an hard clay remains in the room of the liquid, 
 which is brought into a stone apartment to be 
 tempered^ that is, wetted with water, beaten with
 
 I 49 3 
 
 a wooden mallet, and trodden by a man with his 
 bare feet. The material is now fit for the thrower, 
 who throws a mass of it upon his lathe, an hori- 
 zontal wheel, set in motion by a boy, (turning 
 a vertical one) and whirled round with a degree 
 of swiftness, either greater or'less, as the thrower 
 sees occasion. To this a guage is attached, to as- 
 certain exactly the dimensions of the article. The 
 hands of the thrower being kept steady, the rotatory 
 motion of the wheel being quick, and the clay soft 
 but tenacious, the eye is agreeably surprized with 
 the instantaneous creation of beautiful forms out 
 of a shapeless mass of clay, which every moment 
 change their appearance according to the motion of 
 the finger and thumbs of the workman; now rising 
 into a long cylinder, again sinking immediately, 
 and approaching the rotundity of a sphere, and at 
 length settling into the elegant shape of an ancient 
 vase, a modern mug, or a fashionable tea-pot. The 
 articles thus prepared are then dried upon flues to 
 consolidate their texture, and render them fit for 
 the vertical lathe of the turner. Placed upon this 
 machine, they are reduced to their proper thickness 
 and exact, form; and if their pattern require handles 
 or spouts, they are here fitted with them by a work* 
 man called the handler. From this workshop they 
 are carried into the kiln-house to be burned, and
 
 Z 50 ] 
 
 placed in saggars, or circular pans, made of Staf- 
 fordshire crucible clay, open at the top, and about 
 eight inches deep, the flat bottoms of which are 
 strewed with calcined flint, to prevent the adhesion 
 of the articles to them. The kiln usually holds 
 about one thousand five hundred of these saggars, 
 and frequently from twenty-five to thirty thousand 
 pieces of ware. Here they continue thirty-seven 
 hours, exposed to such a violent heat as to render 
 them red-hot, but carefully protected from flame. 
 On coming out they are said to be in the biscuit state, 
 that is, having the appearance of an unglazed to- 
 bacco-pipe. If any blue be in the pattern of the 
 articles, the figures are traced upon them at this 
 time with a hair pencil, dipped in a mixture of a 
 purple colour; and being suffered to dry, they are 
 then immersed in a red liquid, called the glaze, of 
 the consistence of cream, chiefly composed of white 
 lead and ground flint. This adheres to every part 
 of the articles, which are placed to dry in a room 
 of a certain temperature, from whence they come 
 out with a ground of a pale pink colour, and the 
 pattern of a dingy purple. Being perfectly dry, 
 they are given to the trimmer, who smooths the 
 surface of the article, and rubs off any little 
 inequalities of the glaze; the most unwholesome 
 part of the whole process, as he frequently inspires
 
 [ 51 ] 
 
 particles of the white lead, &c. to the great detri- 
 ment of his stomach and lungs; which, indeed, he 
 is obliged to relieve by frequent emetics. The 
 articles are next placed in the glaze kiln, and remain 
 there twenty-eight hours exposed to the fire; which 
 being extinguished, the whole are suffered gradually 
 to cool, and then taken out, when they exhibit a 
 wonderful metamorphosis, effected by the chemical 
 agency of fire. A vitrification having taken place on 
 their surface, a beautiful glossy covering discovers 
 itself within and without, in the room of the dull 
 unpolished appearance they before had; and the fi- 
 gures of purple are converted into a vivid and beau- 
 tiful blue. After passing through the sorting-room, 
 they are given to the painters, who with colours 
 properly and nicely prepared (for the hues are all 
 changed by a subsequent firing) trace those beau- 
 tiful patterns, figures, and landscapes, upon them, 
 which almost rival the force and efFecl: of the can- 
 vas. Again they are placed in the kiln, in order 
 to fix the colours, and remain there for six hours. 
 This compleats the process of such articles as have 
 no gold in their pattern; but those which are or- 
 namented with this superb addition, undergo ano- 
 ther burning after the enamel is laid on. They 
 are also carried afterwards into the burnishing shop, 
 where this final decoration is given them by a 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 C 52 3 
 
 number of women, who soon change the dull sur- 
 face of the gold into a most brilliant appearance, 
 by rubbing the gilt part of the pattern with little 
 instruments pointed with blood-stones and other 
 polishing substances. They are now ready to be 
 introduced into the world, and are sent forth, to 
 gratify vanity, decorate splendour, or accommo- 
 date luxury; to ornament the tea-table of high- 
 life, the dressing-room of fashion, and the boards 
 of the great; for the Worcester manufactory 
 soars above the humbler articles in use amongst 
 the happier tribes of common life. It would sur- 
 prize a modern fine lady, were I to tell her, that 
 the cup from which she sips her tea had been 
 through the hands of at least twenty-three dirty 
 workmen, before it met her lips ; but such is the 
 fat, for if we retrace the process, we shall 
 find the following croud employed for the pur- 
 pose: the man who grinds the articles for the 
 composition; the man that mills them; the person 
 that calcines them; the grinder of the lumps; the 
 sifter; theattender on the vats; the temperer; the 
 thrower; the drier; the turner; the spout-maker, 
 who forms the spouts and handles; the handler, 
 who puts them on ; the biscuit fire-man ; the blue 
 painter; the dipper, who immerses them in the 
 glaze; the trimmer, who clears them from irregu-
 
 C 53 1 
 
 larities in the glazing; the gloss fire-man; the 
 sorter; the painter; the colour fire-man ; the gold 
 enameller; the enamel fire-man; the burnisher. 
 It is to be observed, that many articles which could 
 not be conveniently thrown, such as tureens, plates, 
 and dishes, are made on moulds of plaister of 
 Paris, and when dry are given to the turner, as 
 above-mentioned. The earnings of the workmen in 
 this manufactory, who are all paid by the piece, are 
 very considerable; throwers and turners making 
 about 25s. per week; dippers and glazers, 21s.; 
 and painters from 30s. to two guineas. Pennington 
 is the , inimitable artist who produces all those ex* 
 quisite specimens of the perfection of the pencil, 
 which the more expensive articles display. 
 
 Our visit to the cathedral was extremely interest- 
 ing, from the beauty and singularity of its archi- 
 tecture, and from the monuments of some cele- 
 brated characters which it contains. Of this edi- 
 fice, the great nave and side-ailes present a beau- 
 tiful mixture of the Anglo-Norman and Gothic 
 stiles; the two western arches, of the former the 
 remaining seven, (for the body of the church has 
 nine) of the latter architecture; the capitals of the 
 pillars supporting them are sculptured into the 
 nicest fillagree-work, but each differing from the 
 other in its pattern. Nothing can be more simple,
 
 [ 54 ] 
 
 elegant, and august, than the choir; at the same 
 time its clustered columnar pillars, the open-worked 
 mouldings of its arches, and its beautiful triforium, 
 throw an inexpressible lightness over the whole. 
 It is further adorned with a pulpit, whose front 
 and body are stone, and back of curious wood- 
 work; and several turn-up seats, the reverse of 
 which are carved with grotesque and indecent 
 figures satyrical representations, emblematical of 
 the mendicant orders of friars, with whom the lazy 
 sons of the convent were always at open war. 
 
 The fane is also enriched with the curious roofed 
 chapel of Prince Arthur, the eldest son of Henry 
 VII.; and is marked by a singular architectural 
 anomaly, which occurs in the third pillar on the 
 north of the choir. This is constructed after one 
 of the classical orders, but (strange proof of the 
 workmen's ignorance) the plan is inverted; the 
 upper members being next the ground! At the 
 foot of the altar is the tomb of King John, said by 
 Mr. Gough, whose splendid " Sepulchral Monu- 
 ments" are a sufficient testimony of his knowledge 
 in these matters, to be the oldest royal monument 
 in the kingdom. On opening the tomb some time 
 since, the body of the deceased monarch was disco- 
 vered, contained in a cista or chest, enveloped in a 
 robe, and having a quilted cap upon its head.
 
 [ 55 J 
 
 Amongst many other monuments, we considered 
 the following as particularly worth remark: That 
 of Judge Lyttelton, who died 1481; the learned 
 father of the law, as he is frequently termed by the 
 earlier English historians. He was appointed one 
 of the Judges of the Common-Pleas by Edward IV. 
 in 1464, and afterwards created Knight of the Bath. 
 Whilst on the bench, he published his " Tenures;'* 
 a work pronounced by his commentator Sir Edward 
 Coke, to be the ornament of the common law, and 
 the most perfect, volume ever written in any human 
 science. His will, which is printed in CoIlins*s 
 Peerage, will afford you a curious specimen of the 
 preciseness of this great man's character; being 
 replete with circumstantial and minute bequests of 
 trifles and trumpery, that would be now thrown 
 into the chest of the surviving valet. The tomb 
 of Sir Thomas Lyttelfon, bart. the representative 
 of Worcestershire in five successive parliaments, 
 during the reigns of James and Charles I. To 
 the last monarch his attachment was so great and 
 well-tried, that on the breaking out of the civil 
 wars he had the chief military command in Wor- 
 cestershire entrusted to him; but falling by the 
 chance of war into the hands of the Parliament 
 forces at Bewdley, he was confined in the tower of 
 London for some years, his estates sequestrated,
 
 C 56 ] 
 
 and amerced in 4000I. for his delinquency. His 
 epitaph fixes the time of his death to 1650. 
 
 We regarded with veneration the tomb of John 
 Hough Bishop of Worcester, who died in 1743, at 
 the advanced age of ninety-three, having filled the 
 episcopal chair nearly fifty-three years. When 
 the obstinate zeal of James II. prompted him to 
 attempt the most violent measures for the intro- 
 duction of Popery, he issued his mandate to the 
 fellows of Magdalen college, Oxon, for the election 
 of one Farmer, a catholic, to be their president. 
 The society resisted the nomination, and elected 
 Hough, urging Farmer's ineligibility according 
 to the statutes; their choice was confirmed by the 
 visitor, but disputed by the ecclesiastical commis- 
 sion, who deprived Hough, and suspended two of 
 the fellows. This sentence was disregarded by 
 the principals, and became a matter of party. The 
 King, in order to avoid the question of Farmer's 
 ineligibility, issued a new mandate in favour of 
 Parker Bishop of Oxford: the electors remained 
 firm, and declared the place full by the nomination 
 of Hough. The King himself went to Oxford, 
 and personally Reprimanded the fellows, threaten- 
 ing, that if further disobedient, " they should feel 
 the weight of his hand." A new commission of 
 victors was appointed, who entered the town with
 
 C 57 3 
 
 three troops of horse; but Hough, who was a man 
 equally resolute and virtuous, still remained inflex- 
 ible, and denied the power of deprivation. For 
 this he was accused, by the King's proftor, of 
 contumacy, and his name struck out of the col- 
 lege book. He sought redress in Westminster- 
 Hall, but failed of gaining it ; whilst, by order of 
 the court, the lodge was broke open, and Parker 
 installed by proxy. This matter had now become 
 the subject, of general concern, and would probably 
 not have ended here, but for the agitation of a 
 more momentous question relative to the church 
 establishment, which immediately succeeded it, viz. 
 " the Bishops' Petition." Hough was elected 
 Bishop of Oxford 1690, translated to Coventry 
 1699, and to Worcester in 1717. 
 
 The dimensions of the cathedral are, five hun- 
 dred and fourteen feet in length, seventy-eight 
 feet in breath, and sixty-eight feet in height. The 
 tower rises one hundred and sixty-two feet from 
 the pavement. Adjoining this edifice are the 
 cloisters, and the chapter-house; the former in 
 perfect preservation, measuring one hundred and 
 twenty-five feet by one hundred and twenty; the 
 latter of a decagonal form, its roof supported by a 
 solitary central pillar. Here we find the library, a 
 warm and comfortable room, with the very unusual
 
 [ 58 ] 
 
 appearance of being much frequented. It contains 
 a copy of Rubens's famous Antwerp picture, the 
 Descent from the Cross ; several MSS. the property 
 formerly of the monastery here; and a curious 
 book, printed by Nicholas de Frampton in 1478. 
 Our attention was caught, as we proceeded to 
 Droitwich, about half way between that town and 
 Worcester, (a distance of seven miles) by the an- 
 cient mansion of Hendlip, standing a few hundred 
 yards out of the turnpike-road to the right hand; 
 an house built in Queen Elizabeth's time, and pre- 
 senting all the peculiarities of the singular architec- 
 ture that was fashionable at a period when neither 
 taste, neatness, or convenience, were underftood. 
 John Abingdon, the cofferer of this queen, is said 
 to have built the house. Thomas, his son, the next 
 possessor of Hendlip, makes a conspicuous figure 
 in the many plots entered into in the 16th ceutury 
 for the restoration of the Romish religion in this 
 country, and twice owed his life to the clemency of 
 the court to Elizabeth and James I. Active in 
 his endeavours to release Mary Queen of Scots 
 from her confinement, he was at length discoveml, 
 and confined for six years in the Tower; nor would 
 his punishment, probably, have stopped short of 
 th, had not the queen compassionated her own
 
 [ 59 ] 
 
 godson, and held the memory of his father's faith- 
 ful services in regard. But the more atrocious a<fl 
 of joining in the powder-plot would certainly and 
 deservedly have subjected him to capital punish- 
 ment, if Lord Morley, the father of his wife, had 
 not interceded for a pardon, which was granted him 
 upon the terms of his never quitting the county of 
 Worcester during the remainder of his life. This 
 confinement was rendered less irksome to him by his 
 engaging in a labour, the result of which we enjoy 
 at present the collection of materials for the his- 
 tory of Worcestershire ; since arranged, compleated, 
 and published by Dr. Nash. 
 
 Lord Morley had some claim, it should seem, 
 upon the mercy of James, with respect to Abing- 
 don, as it was through the means of his daughter, 
 the wife of the latter, that the plot in agitation was 
 discovered. Anxious to save the life of her brother 
 Lord Monteagle, she framed the obscure letter re- 
 ceived by that nobleman the night before the catas- 
 trophe was to have taken place ; the meaning of 
 which our English Solomon has the merit of alone 
 being able to develope. Perpetually implicated in 
 such dark contrivances, as at once demanded se- 
 crecy in their arrangement, and means of escape if 
 attended with ill-success, Thomas converted the 
 Jiouse of Hendlip into a proper scene for both pur-
 
 [ 60 ] 
 
 poses; filling it with a variety of hiding-places, so 
 ingeniously managed as to require more than com- 
 mon sagacity y and perseverance to discover them. 
 Into two of these inscrutable recesses four of the 
 powder-plot conspirators, after the failure of the 
 plot, were thrust by pairs; Owen and Chambers 
 into one, and Garnett and Hill into another: and 
 so well were they concealed, that no less than eight 
 days and nights were consumed in searching for 
 them before they were taken. The following co- 
 temporary account will give you a compleat idea 
 of the curious plan on which the house was con- 
 structed, or rather altered, by Thomas Abingdon, 
 and now exhibits: 
 
 " Sir Henrie Bromlie, on Monday January 20th 
 " last, by break of day, did engirt and round be- 
 " set the house of Mayster Thomas Abbingdon, 
 " at Hendlip, near Worcester. Mr. Abbingdon 
 " not being then at home, but ridden abroad about 
 *' some occasions best known to himself, the house 
 " being goodlie and of great receipt, it required 
 " the more diligent labour and pains in the search- 
 " ing. It appeared there was no want, and Mr. 
 " Abbingdon coming liome that night, the com- 
 " mission and proclamation being shewn to him, 
 " he denied any such men to be in his house; and 
 " voluntarily to die at his own gate, if any sucJi
 
 [ Gl ] 
 
 " were to be found in his house, or in that shire; 
 " but this liberal, or rather rash, speech, could 
 " not cause the search so slightly to be given over, 
 " the cause enforced more respeft than that or 
 " words of any such like nature; and proceeding 
 " on according to the trust reposed in him, in the 
 " gallery over the gate there were found two cun- 
 " ning and very artificial conveyances in the main 
 " brick wall, so ingeniously framed and with such 
 "art as it cost much labour ere they could be 
 '* found. Three other secret places, contrived by 
 <c no less skill and industry, were found in and 
 " about the chimnies, in one whereof two of the 
 " traitors were close concealed. These chimney 
 " conveyances being so strangely formed, having 
 " the entrances into them so curiously covered over 
 " with brick, mortared and made fast to planks of 
 " wood, and coloured black like the other parts 
 " of the chimney, that very diligent inquisition 
 " might well have passed by without throwing 
 " the least suspicion on such unsuspicious places. 
 " And whereas divers funnels are usually made to 
 " chimnies according as they are combined toge- 
 " ther, and serve for necessary use in several 
 " rooms, so here were some that exceeded common 
 " expectation, seemingly outwardly fit for carry- 
 * ing forth smoke; but being further examined
 
 [ 6*2 ] 
 
 " and seen into, their service was to no such pur* 
 " poje, but only to lend air and light downward 
 " into the concealments, where such as were in-. 
 " closed in them at any time should be hidden. 
 u F? even secret corners and conveyances were 
 * found in the said house, all of them having books, 
 " Hfessing stuff, and Popish trumpery, in them, 
 " only two excepted, which appeared to have been 
 found on former searches, and therefore had 
 " now the less credit given to them. But Mayster 
 " Abbingdon would take no knowledge of any of 
 " these places, nor that the books or massing stuff 
 <c were any of his, until at length the deeds of his 
 " lands were found in one of them, whose cus- 
 " tody doubtless he would not commit to any 
 " place of neglect, or where he should have no 
 " intelligence of them, whereto he could then de- 
 " vise no sufficient excuse. Three days had been 
 " fully spent, and no man found there all this while; 
 " but upon the fourth day in the morning, from 
 " behind the wainscoat in the galleries, came forth 
 " two men of their own voluntary accord, as be- 
 " ing no longer able there to conceal themselves, 
 " for they confessed, that they had but one apple 
 " between them, which was all the sustenance they 
 " had received during the time they were thus 
 " hidden. One of them was named Owen, who
 
 C 63 ] 
 
 *' afterwards murdered himself in the Tower, and 
 "the other Chambers; but they would take no 
 " other knowledge of any other men's being in the 
 " house. On the eighth day the before-men- 
 " tioned place in the chimney was found; forth 
 " of this secret and most cunning conveyance came 
 " Henry Garnet, the Jesuit, sought for, and an-^ 
 " other with him named Hall; marmalade and 
 " other sweetmeats were found there lying by 
 " them, but their better maintenance had been by 
 *' a quill or reed through a little hole in a chimney 
 *' that backed another chimney into a gentlewo- 
 ** man's chamber; and by that passage, cawdle, 
 " broths, and warm drinks had been conveyed in 
 " unto them." 
 
 Of these conspirators, all except Garnett were 
 executed in the country. He was superior of the 
 order of Jesuits in England, and had been a&ively 
 employed in forwarding the plot; administering the 
 oath of secrecy, and encouraging the confederates, 
 with holding out emancipation from purgatory and 
 eternal felicity, as the rewards of their praiseworthy 
 undertaking; an activity which he expiated on the 
 gallows in London. In this singular mansion are 
 the curious family portraits of 
 
 John Abingdon, cofferer to Queen Elizabeth, 
 and builder of Hendlip-bouse.
 
 [ 6i ] 
 
 Percy, one of the ganpowder-plot conspirators, 
 a relation of the Abingdons'; and supposed by 
 Guthrie, though without foundation, to have writ- 
 ten the letter which occasioned the suspicions of 
 James, and the discovery of the plot. 
 
 Thomas Abingdon, above spoken of, whom pu- 
 nishment rendered happy, by turning his attention 
 from the distraction of politics to the tranquillity 
 of literary pursuits. 
 
 Mary his wife, daughter of Lord Morley, and 
 sister to Lord Monteagle; to whom she wrote the 
 letter we have so often mentioned, which is now 
 preserved in the Paper-office) Whitehall. 
 
 The dirty town of Droit wich would not have 
 detained us a moment, had it not offered to our 
 notice those natural curiosities, the salt springs 
 or brine-pits, which have been known and made 
 an article of manufacture for above one thousand 
 years last past. Till the year 1689, this pro- 
 cess had been monopolized by a few grantees 
 under the crown, who raised a large annual in- 
 come from their pits in Upwich and Netherwich: 
 but at that time a Mr. Steynor, a bold speculator, 
 and deeply skilled in the law of property, deter- 
 mined to break through a system which had nei- 
 ther equity nor reason for its foundation, and sunk 
 some pits upon his own ground. The Corpora-
 
 t 65 ] 
 
 tion, who were the grantees, immediately brought 
 an action against him for this interruption of their 
 rights; but after several hearings and great ex- 
 pence, their monopoly was set aside, and a 
 verdict recorded, that all such persons as pos- 
 sessed property without the limits of the royal 
 grant, had a right to sink pits, and manufacture 
 salt for their own profit without molestation. In 
 consequence of this adjudication, the value of 
 the original pits gradually dwindled away, till at 
 length, in the year 1725, it vanished into nothing; 
 a method being then discovered by Sir Richard 
 Lane of increasing the product "of the brine in a 
 tenfold proportion, by boring through the stratum 
 of gypsum, that hitherto had formed the floor of 
 these springs. No sooner was this perforation 
 made, than a stream of strong brine boiled up with 
 such prodigious force as to destroy the workmen 
 who were employed in the pit. After this suc- 
 cessful experiment of Sir Richard, the whole neigh- 
 bourhood adopted his plan, so that in a short time 
 a considerably larger quantity of brine was pro- 
 duced than could possibly be consumed in the ma- 
 nufacture, to the total destruct'on of the old pits, 
 and the utter ruin of many fam lies and char ties, 
 which had the whole of their income secured up- 
 on them. The basis of the country hereabouts
 
 [ 66 ] 
 
 seems to be salt rock, which lies usually from one 
 hundred and fifty to two hundred feet under the 
 surface; the first spring is met with about one hun- 
 dred and ten feet down, after which occurs a stra- 
 tum of gypsum one hundred or one hundred and 
 thirty feet in thickness; then a brine river of 
 twenty-two inches deep, and finally a bed of salt 
 rock of unknown thickness. In a search for the 
 brine river made a few years since, the successive 
 appearances in the earth were these mould four 
 feet, marl thirty-two feet, gypsum forty feet, a 
 brine river twenty-two inches, another stratum of 
 gypsum seventy-five feet thick, and then the salt 
 rock. From the brine thus procured, which ex- 
 ceeds all others in strength and purity, is manu- 
 factured the Droitwich salt, by the following pro- 
 cess: A small quantity of water being previously 
 poured into the boiling pan, to prevent the brine 
 from burning at the bottom, it is then nearly filled 
 with this strongly impregnated saline liquid; the 
 pans are made of iron, broad, flat, and about fifteen 
 inches deep, and placed over a furnace, with a hi^h 
 and wide chimney above them to assist the evapo- 
 ration. A small lump of resin being thrown into 
 the brine, to make it granulate, the process of 
 ebullition and evaporation soon takes place; an 
 incrustation of salt is presently formed on the sur-
 
 C 67 1 
 
 face, which, after a short suspension, sinks to the 
 bottom, and is then taken out by a man called the 
 worler, who throws it into a wicker basket of a 
 sugar-loaf shape, in order to drain. Having con- 
 tinued in these baskets for a few minutes, it is again 
 turned out, and carried to the oven to harden ; and is 
 afterwards ready for sale. Previously to the Ame- 
 rican struggle, the salt-trade of this place returned 
 to government in duty nearly 8o,oool. per annum. 
 But tempora mutantur; and Droitwich, like all 
 other commercial towns, has felt the fatal effects 
 of dismembered empire and !ong-pro traced war. 
 
 Our road from hence to Bromsgrove took in 
 general an high level, and occasionally afforded us 
 an extensive view; but it was of a different nature 
 to the country we had passed. The rich luxuriance 
 of vegetation and the fine fringes of wood skirting 
 the pastures, which we had remarked on all sides 
 in the southern parts of Worcestershire, were gra- 
 dually disappearing as we proceeded to the north 
 of the county; a nakedness and deficiency which 
 were accounted for by the comparative poverty of 
 the red sandy soil whereon we were now entered. 
 With this changed picture the town of Bromsgrove 
 was in unison; a large but dirty place, full of shops 
 and manufactures, employed in making sheeting, 
 nails, and needles. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 C 68 ] 
 
 The same uninteresting scenery accompanied us 
 for five miles beyond Bromsgrove, when, on our 
 approach to the classic ground of Hagley, the 
 demesne of Lord Lyttelton, its face was suddenly 
 changed into the lovely and picturesque. Here 
 the road creeps through a deep hollow way cut out 
 of the sand rock, that rises in a wall on each side 
 crowned with shrubs and trees, and admits through 
 the lengthened excavation a pleasing vista of diver- 
 sified scenery at its termination. There could not 
 have been a more happy introduction than this to 
 a scene like Hagley, in which taste and imagina- 
 tion must always feel themselves deeply interested, 
 had it been rather nearer to the house than nature 
 has chosen to place it. But as a long mile in- 
 tervenes between the park and the ravine, the 
 impressions with which the beauty of the spot 
 had filled the fancy, have time to evaporate; 
 and we enter less enthusiastically upon the ground 
 trodden by departed genius, than we should 
 have done, had the circumstances of the country 
 been such as to keep awake these evanescent feel- 
 ings. The house of Hagley was built by the first 
 Lord Lyttelton, near the scite of the .ancient fa- 
 mily mansion, an old-fashioned structure of the 
 1 6th century; which had been the hiding-place of 
 two more of the gunpowder-plot conspirators,
 
 C 69 ] 
 
 Stephen Lyttelton and Robert Winter. The term 
 of their concealment, however, was but short, be- 
 ing betrayed by an under-cook belonging to the 
 family. Humphrey Lyttelton, the owner at that 
 time of the estate, who had received the traitors 
 into his protection, and endeavoured to secrete them, 
 was content to save his neck by discovering, as it is 
 said, the unfortunate men that had taken refuge 
 in Hendlip-house. The present mansion is a plain 
 and simple but classical building, placed in the flat 
 part of the park, the ground swelling into gentle 
 hills on three sides of it. Its form is a parallelo- 
 gram, and its chief front adorned with a double 
 flight of steps on each side, from the platform of 
 which is a fine extensive view. 
 
 The land rises majestically behind the house, 
 but is utterly spoiled by those artificial decorations 
 which the fashion of the day sixty years ago con- 
 sidered as additions the most elegant and appro- 
 priate; and which attached to Hagley-park almost 
 the exclusive character of taste in the design, dis- 
 position, and ornament of pleasure-grounds. These 
 decorations are a temple; a Gothic ruin; an obe- 
 lisk; a pillar; a Palladian bridge; two or three 
 trumpery grottos; and as many bits of water of 
 diminutive size and accurate mathematic forms; 
 quotations painted on tablets of wood, culled
 
 [ ro 3 
 
 from poets, ancient and modern, with the most 
 artful care, in order that every word may have its 
 appropriate feature in the scene to which it applies, 
 compleat the list of ornaments in the famed Hagley 
 grounds ornaments highly in vogue half a cen- 
 tury since, an a^ra in the history of English garden- 
 ing when a classical mania had seized upon our 
 improvers, after their escape from the strait lines 
 and clipped yews of the Dutch manner, but utterly 
 exploded as soon as good taste and common sense 
 taught our designers of pleasure-ground, that their 
 proper business was to assist nature, and not to 
 destroy her; to tame her extravagance and soften 
 her harshness, without changing her simplicity, 
 wildncss, and variety, for the operose and studied 
 producYiojas of artificial skill. The ruin, however, 
 is good in its kind, and being situated upon 
 the summit o/ a lofty hill, gratifies the eye with 
 a prodigiously wide and diversified scene. The 
 inn, also, dedicated to Pope, with this short 
 inscriptioi 
 
 " ALEXANDRO POPE, Poetarum Anglicorum ele- 
 ganttssimo dulcissimoque, vitiorum castigatori acer- 
 rimo, sapienUacdo&ori suavissimo, sacra est. 1/44." 
 
 and the pavilion, sacred to Thomson, bearing 
 these lines
 
 [ 71 ] 
 
 " Ingenio immortali JACOBI THOMSON, Poetae 
 sublimis viri boni, aediculam hanc in secessu quern 
 vivus dilexit, post mortem ejus constru&arn, dicat 
 dedicatque Georgius Lyttelton." 
 
 interest the imagination, and recall the recollection 
 of those feasts of reason, in which the elegant 
 Lyttelton indulged at Hagley with the author of 
 the ' Rape of the Lock,' and the writer of the 
 6 Seasons.' Contemplation is assisted likewise by 
 the little parish church, which stands in the park, 
 almost buried in trees; the plantations, indeed, 
 are injudiciously luxuriant, as they entirely shut 
 out this structure from the house; whereas, had a 
 partial peep at its ancient tower or Gothic window 
 been admitted, the object, would not only have been 
 a pleasing one in itself, but have made an happy 
 variety in the ornaments of the ground commanded 
 from the principal rooms. 
 
 The first apartment into which we were intro- 
 duced was the hall, where we found 
 
 Six antique Busts. A relief over the chimney. 
 Pan courting Diana, by Vassali. Casts of a 
 Corybant, of Bacchus, of Mercury, and of Venus, 
 in four niches, copies from the Florentine gallery. - 
 Busts of Rubens and Vandyke, by Rysbrack. 
 
 In the parlour, a Landscape, the Villa Madama, 
 near Rome ? where the ' Pastor Fido' was first per-
 
 C 72 ] 
 
 formed, by Wilson. A little St. John, highly fi- 
 nished, the hands particularly fine, copied from 
 Guercino, by B.le Jeune. Madona and Child, by 
 Rubens, the child laughing, animated, fleshy, and 
 grand colouring. In this room, also, we have the 
 following portraits: 
 
 Judge Lyttelton, a picture pronounced by Mr. 
 Granger to be a copy from the painted glass in the 
 Middle-Temple hall, representing this great lawyer, 
 whose name was held in such high veneration by 
 the members of the Middle-Temple, that when one 
 of his descendants applied for chambers within the 
 house, it was resolved mm. con. by the benchers, 
 he should be admitted without fine or the custo- 
 mary fees, in testimony of the great respect due 
 from the whole society to the name of Lyttelton. 
 Obiit 1 48 1. 
 
 Lord Keeper Lyttclton, who, like his ancestor, 
 was well skilled in the laws of the land, but too 
 much inclined to meddle with the troubled politics 
 of the day. On the recommendation of Archbishop 
 Laud and Lord Strafford, he was raised to the 
 figh legal oiuces which he filled, for the purpose 
 of furtlrering the wishes of Charles L; and to the 
 peerage, in order that he might serve the cause of 
 that unfortunate nobleman; but at the commence- 
 ment of Strafford's trial, he waved his privilege of
 
 C 73 ] 
 
 voting, because he had been a commoner when the 
 accusation was brought up. All parties justly 
 considered this reason as an idle excuse, since others 
 in the like situation voted undisturbed; indeed, 
 his whole character, as drawn by Lord Clarendon 
 and others, exhibits too much of (what should 
 never be allowed to enter the breast of a judge) a 
 spirit of party intrigue. He died 1645, an( ^ was 
 at that time colonel of a troop of horse in Oxford. 
 
 Admiral Smith. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lyttelton, father of the present 
 lord, was thrice chosen representative for the county 
 of Worcester; appointed a lord of the Admiralty 
 in 1727, which situation he relinquished in 1741, 
 and retired from Parliament. Obiit 1751, a?tat 66. 
 The painting is by Van Somer. 
 
 Dr. Charles Lyttelton Bishop of Carlisle, third son 
 of Sir Thomas; originally a member of the Middle- 
 Temple, he practised as a barrister; but relin- 
 quished that profession for the church. He was 
 appointed chaplain in ordinary in 1747, in the fol- 
 lowing year promoted to the deanery of Exeter, 
 and to the see of Carlisle in 1762. Obiit 1768. 
 
 William Henry, the present lord, succeeded to 
 the baronetage on the decease of his nephewThomas 
 (generally known by the title of the ghost-seer) 
 without issue, with whom the barony became ex-
 
 C 7* ] 
 
 tincl; but was revived in 1794, in the present 
 peer, who had previously been ennobled by the 
 title of Baron Westcote of Ireland. 
 
 Lieut. -General Sir Richard Lyttelton, by P. 
 Battoiii, fifth son of Sir Thomas; was early in life 
 placed in the situation most likely to prove advan- 
 tageous to those who have a turn for military af- 
 fairs, being appointed page of honour to Queen Ca- 
 roline; and regularly rose from an ensigncy in the 
 Guards to the rank of lieut. -general, enjoying the 
 offices of master of the jewel-office, governor of 
 Minorca and Guernsey, and the dignity of a knight 
 of the Bath. He married Rachael Powager 
 Duchess of Brdgewater. Obiit 1770. 
 
 George Lord Lyitelton, by West, eldest son of 
 Sir Thomas, was early in : tiated in the busy scene 
 of politics, and d : stinguished himself in a violent 
 opposit'on to Sir Robert Walpole. On the down- 
 fall of that great minister, Lyttelton reaped the 
 advantage of his opposition, and in 1744 was 
 appointed a lord of the treasury; in 1754 
 nominated cofferer and privy -counsellor; and the 
 following year made chancellor of the exchequer. 
 In 1757 he retired from public life with a peerage. 
 He has obtained a place in Johnson's * Lives of the 
 Poets,' though the biographer acknowledges, that if 
 his poems be not to be despised, they can hardly
 
 [ 75 ] 
 
 be admired. He consoled himself for the loss of* 
 an affectionate wife by writing a long poem to 
 her memory, full of grief and plaintive sorrow; but 
 sought a different kind of solace at the expiration 
 of two years, by a second marriage with Elizabeth 
 daughter of Sir Robert Rich; and had not the 
 like cause or opportunity to lament her decease. 
 Perhaps, mindful how seldom true character can 
 be found graven on the tomb, he was interred at 
 Hagley, by the side of his Lady, with this plain 
 inscription on his monument: 
 
 " This unadorned stone was placed here by the par- 
 ticular desire and express directions of the Right 
 Honourable GEORGE Lord LYTTELTON, who 
 died August 22d, 1773, aged 64." 
 
 Lucy fir it Countess o/Lyttelton, daughter of Hugh 
 Fortescue, of Filleigh in Devonshire, the subject of 
 Lord Lyttelton's elaborate elegy. Of such public 
 declarations of mental anguish it may be remarked, 
 that their foundation is vanity, and their super- 
 structure is affectation. The seriousness which 
 embraces the heart, it has been well observed, is not 
 the offspring of volition but of instinct. It is not a 
 purpose, but a frame. The sorrow that is sorrow 
 indeed, asks for no prompting; it comes without a 
 call; it courts not admiration; it presses not on 
 the general eye, but hastens under covert, and wails
 
 C 76 ] 
 
 its widowhood alone; its strong hold is the heart', 
 there it remains close curtained unseeing, unseen. 
 Delicacy and taste recoil at the publication of in- 
 ternal griefs. They prophane the hallowedness 
 of secret sadness; and suppose selected and deco- 
 rated expression compatible with the prostration 
 of the soul. No man will give Lord Lyttelton 
 credit for those feelings towards his fust love, 
 which the polished lines of his elegy breathe, who 
 adverts to the circumstances and character of 
 his second. But this composition was not the 
 only poetical tribute to the memory of Lucy from 
 the pen of his Lordship. The following Latin 
 and English epitaphs upon her monument in Hagley 
 church are succeeded by some laudatory lines in 
 the highest strain of eulogium: 
 
 "M. S. 
 
 I.UCIiE LYTTELTON, 
 
 Ex antiquissimorum Fortescutorum generc ortx 
 
 Quae annos nata viginti novem, 
 
 Fornix eximiac, indolis optimae, 
 
 Ingenii maximi, 
 Omnibus bonis artibus literisque 
 humanioribus supra actatcm ct sexum exculti, sine supcr- 
 bia laude florens, mortc immatura, vitam pic, pudicc, 
 sancle a6tam; in tcrtio pucrpcrio clausit, decimo nono die 
 Janu.irii, anno Domini 1 740-7 ; Acta ctiam ab ignotis. 
 Uxori dilectissimo quinquennio fclicissimo conjugii non- 
 dum absoluti, immensi amoris ac desiderii hoc qualicum- 
 quc monumentum posuit Georgius L\ttelton, adhue
 
 [ 77 ] 
 
 cheu superstes, et in eodem sepulchroipse olim sepeliendus. 
 At per Jesum Christum salvatorem suum, ad vitae melioris 
 diuturniora guadia, lachrymis in aeternum abstrusis, se 
 cum ilia resurre&urum conridens." 
 
 The English Epitaph is as follows : 
 " To the memory of LUCY LYTTELTON, daughter of 
 Hugh Fortescue, of Filleigh in the county of Devon, esq; 
 father to the present Earl of Clinton, by Lucy his wife, 
 the daughter of Matthew Lord Aylmer, who departed 
 this life the 19th of January 1746-/, aged 2Q; having 
 employed the short time assigned to her here in the 
 uniform practice of religion and virtue. 
 
 " Made to engage all hearts, and charm all eyes; 
 Though meek, magnanimous; though witty, wise; 
 Polite, as all her life in courts had been, 
 Yet good, as she the world had never seen; 
 The noble fire of an exalted mind, 
 With gentlest female tenderness combin'd; 
 Her speech was the melodious voice of love, 
 Her song the warbling of the vernal grove. 
 Her eloquence was sweeter than her sOng, 
 Soft as her heart, and as her reason strong. 
 Her form each beauty of her mind exprest, 
 Her mind was Virtue by the Graces drest." 
 
 In the Gallery, (a fine room, but low in pro- 
 portion to its length, though this aukward effect, is 
 judiciously attempted to be counteracted by pillars 
 at either end) we find a Virgin and Infant Christy 
 by Old Stone; the child natural and easy, its head 
 thrown back, and laughing face. 
 
 Two antique busts, without drapery.
 
 [ 78 ] 
 
 Frances Duchess cf Richmond, by Lely. A 
 distinguished character in the memoirs of the lively 
 Count Grammont, by her maiden name of Stuart. 
 Her portrait is amongst the beauties at Windsor, 
 and she was generally considered the brightest 
 gem in the court of Charles II. who would gladly 
 have divorced his queen, and raised her to his 
 throne. She had the art of fascinating all classes ; 
 insomuch that Rotier the engraver was so passion- 
 ately enamoured with her, as to display her face on 
 various medals in the character of Britannia, and 
 the resemblance is easily recogn'zed. 
 
 Sir William Fairfax, of Steton in Yorkshire, 
 knt. father of 
 
 Catherine first wife of Sir Charles Lyttelton, 
 by Lely. She died in Jamaica, and was buried in 
 the church at Spanish-Town, 1662, aged 26. 
 
 Sir Charles Lyttelton in armour, with a black 
 boy, by Le Fcvre; a steady adherent to the 
 House of Stuart, and serving in the garrison at 
 Colchester, when so severely besieged by Crom- 
 well's forces. On its surrender, he escaped into 
 France, but returned on Sir George Booth decla- 
 ring in Cheshire for the King. The design failing, 
 Lyttelton was imprisoned at the Gatehouse, West- 
 minster, from whence he again repaired to Charles 
 on being liberated, and was highly serviceable as a
 
 C 79 ] 
 
 negotiator with his partizans in England. On the 
 Restoration, he was appointed Governor of Ja- 
 maica, and built Port-Royal. Returning home, he 
 was made governor of Sheerness and Landguard- 
 fort, with various other employments, which he 
 enjoyed till the Revolution, when he relinquished 
 them, and died at Hagley 1 7 1 6. 
 
 Mary Duchess of Buckingham, by Vandyck; 
 daughter of Thomas Lord Fairfax, and wife of 
 George Villiers Duke of Buckingham. Obiit 
 1705. iEt. 66. 
 
 'John Lyttelton, by Zucchero; married to Bridget 
 daughter and coheiress of his guardian Sir John 
 Packington, with whose fortune he rebuilt his seat 
 at Frankley; which was afterwards destroyed by 
 Prince Rupert, to prevent its falling into the hands 
 of the Parliament forces. He was in equal estima- 
 tion with Mary and Elizabeth, though a catholic. 
 Ob. 1590. it. 69. The motto on this portrait is 
 
 " Heu mihi cui nee vicisci 
 " Nee tantum qvieri licet." 
 
 Countess of Exeter, by Vandyck. 
 
 William Lord Erouncker,by Lely, stiled by Bishop 
 Burnet " a profound mathematician, " was Chan- 
 cellor to Queen Catherine, and in the commission 
 of Lord High- Admiral. On the first institution of 
 the Royal Society, he was appointed president, and
 
 C 80 ] 
 
 his picture is still preserved with other distinguished 
 characters in the apartments allotted to the Society 
 in Somerset-House. Ob. 1684. ^Et. 69. 
 
 Coun.'css of Suffolk, by Lely. 
 
 Miss Brown, sister to Sir Geo. Brown, by Lely. 
 
 Anne Countess of Bedford, sole daughter of Car 
 Earl of Somerset, by the profligate divorced Lady 
 Essex, and wife of William Earl of Bedford, who 
 was created Duke 1694. Ob. 1680. iEt. 64. 
 (Vandyck.) 
 
 Anne Countess of Southesk, daughter of William 
 Duke of Hamilton. Some lively traits of her dis- 
 position may be found in the secret memoirs of 
 Charles the Second's court, by Count Grammont; 
 but a graver historian has detailed her amours with 
 the Duke of York, and the extraordinary steps 
 adopted by her lord to punish his Highness. Vide 
 " Burnet's own Times," vol. i. p. 319. 
 
 James Duke of Monmouth, an uncommonly fine 
 picture by Lely. The handsome, restless, and am- 
 bitious son of Charles II. by Lucy Walters. He 
 attempted to conquer a kingdom with the assist- 
 ance of a band of raw undisciplined troops, col- 
 lected from the farmers and mechanics in the West, 
 where he landed in 1685. After the defeat at 
 Sedgmoor, he was found in a wood, with a few 
 pease in his pockets, disguised as a peasant; carried
 
 [ 81. 1 
 
 to London; executed on Tower-Hill, July 15th, 
 1685; and his headless body was deposited beneath 
 the communion-table in the adjoining church of 
 St. Petrus ad Vincula. 
 
 Oliver Cromwell, with Sir Peter Temple, bit. 
 and barf, a copy, by Jarvis, from the original in 
 the possession of the Rich family. Sir Peter was 
 one of the members of the High Court of Justice 
 for the trial of Charles I. but appears by the Journal 
 not to have a&ed. He was author of " Man's 
 Master-Piece," to which his head, by Gay wood, 
 is prefixed. 
 
 Sir Christopher Minns, by Zonst; son of an 
 honest shoemaker in London, and one of the many 
 instances which the naval register of England 
 furnishes, of men who have been the architects of 
 their own fortune. Whatever might have been 
 the necessary recommendations to favouritism du- 
 ring the reign of Charles II. yet no period of our 
 history teems more fully with details of gallant and 
 heroic naval exploits; and at no a?ra do the com- 
 manders appear to have been more liberally or 
 honourably rewarded. Kit Minns, as he famili- 
 arly stiled himself, was one of the admirals enga- 
 ged against De Ruyter and Tromp, in the memo- 
 rable action which begun on the first of June 1666. 
 On the fourth day he received a shot in his neck,
 
 [ 82 ] 
 
 but remained at his post, holding his wound with 
 both hands in great pain, till another ball pierced 
 his throat, and laid him for ever at rest. 
 
 Princess of Orange, mother to William III. by- 
 Gerard Honthurst. 
 
 Lady Barrymore and Son, by Lely. 
 
 Sir Thomas Clifford, Lord Treasurer, by Old 
 Stone. He was one of the famous, or rather in^ 
 famous, administration, chosen by Charles II. and 
 denominated the Cabal, from the initials of their 
 names, viz. Clifford, Ashley, Buckingham, Arling- 
 ton, Lauderdale. Perhaps the English History 
 does not offer a junto more noted for wicked coun- 
 cils. All writers agree that Clifford had gained 
 his situation by his eloquence and influence in the 
 House of Commons; consequently, his disregard 
 of principle became more alarming. He was a 
 man of undoubted courage and intrepidity, and 
 during the Dutch wars had volunteered his services 
 under Prince Rupert and Albcrmarle. On his 
 return home he was successively appointed comp- 
 troller of the household, secretary of state, and 
 lord feagh treasurer, with the title of Lord 
 (TnTord of Chudleigh. Being a catholic, the staff 
 of office was struck from his hands by the famous 
 I -aft againt popery, passed in 1672; soon after 
 which he retired into the country, followed by the
 
 [ 83 ] 
 
 execrations of the whole nation, and died 1673, 
 aged 43. 
 
 The Drawing-Room is hung with superb old 
 tapestry, and contains the following portraits: 
 
 William Pulteney Earl of Bath. Ob. 1764* 
 
 Over the door on the left, 
 
 Philip Dormer Stanhope Earl of Chesterfield, by 
 Vanloo. An accomplished gentleman, elegant in 
 his prose, lively in his verse, brilliant in his wit, 
 and fascinating in his eloquence ; capable of shining 
 in any society, notwithstanding the remark of Dr. 
 Johnson, that " he might be a wit amongst lords, 
 " but would be only a lord amongst wits." But 
 in this observation, the lexicographer seems to have 
 made his own gigantic intellect the standard of 
 comparison. Anxious to make his talents appear 
 hereditary, the Earl bestowed great pains on his 
 son; but with as little success as the Protector 
 Cromwell, whose heir was content to return to 
 the plough. Ob. 1773. it. 78. 
 
 Richard Temple Viscount Cobham, by Vanloo; 
 he was founder of the Grenville family, by the 
 marriage of his sister Hester to Richard Grenville, 
 1710. Ob. 1749. 
 
 Henry Pelham, Chancellor of the Exchequer; 
 by Shackleton. Ob. 1754. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 [ 84 ] 
 
 Philip first EarlofHardwicke, by Ramsay ; raised 
 by splendid talents and great legal knowledge, to 
 the dignified situation of Lord Chancellor, in which 
 his integrity and impartiality were exemplary and 
 imimpeached. Ob. 1764. iEt. 73. 
 
 In the Saloon are, 
 
 Charles I. by Old Stone; and his 
 
 >ucen Henrietta Maria ; whose counsels are said 
 to have had too much sway with her unfortunate 
 consort. It is a curious fact, that her bigotry would 
 not allow her to assist at the ceremony of her hus- 
 band's consecration in a protestant church; and in 
 consequence she appeared there only as a spectator. 
 
 Family of Charles I. five children by Vandyck. 
 
 The Marriage of Neptune with Cybele; or Earth 
 and Water producing Plenty. The joint work of 
 Rubens and Teniers; in which the grand style of 
 the former easily marks his share of the labour. 
 The laughing countenances of two children con- 
 trast finely with the severity of Cybele. 
 
 Jacob and his Family journeying) by Jacomo 
 Basano. 
 
 James Hay second Earl of Carlisle, by Vandyck. 
 
 Frances Stuart Countess of Portland, wife to 
 Jerome Weston, and daughter to Esme Duke of 
 Richmond. 
 
 Venus reconciled to Psyche; a fine piclureby Titian.
 
 C 85 ] 
 
 In the Dressing-Room next the Saloon* 
 
 Charles II. and his queen Catherine ofBraganza. 
 
 Sir Henry Littelton, by Greenhill. He repre- 
 sented Lichfield in Parliament A. D. 1 660, and 
 was one of the jury for the trial of the regicides. 
 The ever wakeful suspicion of Cromwell fixed upon 
 this gentleman; and for seventeen months he was 
 confined in the Tower. Obiit 1693. Aged 69. 
 
 Arcadian scene, sun-set, by Nicholas Poussin; 
 the light let in grandly through a ruined arch. 
 
 A beautiful Dead Christ ; affecting and sublime, 
 by Vandyck. 
 
 In the India Paper Dressing-Room* 
 
 Sir Thomas Lyttelton, by Van Somer; of whom 
 I have spoken under Worcester cathedral. Obiit 
 1650, having married 
 
 Catherine, daughter of Sir Thomas Crompton, by 
 whom he had twelve sons and four daughters. 
 Obiit 1666. JEt. 6j. 
 
 Mr. John Lyttelton, one of the council who met 
 at Drury-House in London, to further Essex's 
 treasons, which cost the leader his head, and. 
 Lyttelton his estate. Having been convicted of 
 the conspiracy, he would probably have been 
 executed, had he not died in the King's-Bench 
 prison in 1601, aged 39, having left three sons 
 and five daughters.
 
 Air. Edxv. Lyttelton, by Greenhill, sixth soil of 
 Sir Thomas, who was killed in a duel at Worcester. 
 
 George, youngest son of Sir Thomas Lyttelton, a 
 major in the army. He married the daughter of 
 the famous Sir Thomas Brown of Norwich. 
 
 Ferdinando, chenth son of Sir Thomas Lyttelton; 
 groom of the bedchamber to James Duke of York. 
 He was killed, whilst leading on a regiment of horse 
 in the French King's service. 
 
 In the Green Bedchamber 
 
 Two Misers, a grand picture by Quintin Matzis. 
 The same subject, and equally fine, with the paint- 
 ing at Windsor. 
 
 Venus and dead Adonis ; the latter figure super- 
 latively fine, the relaxation of the muscles quite 
 natural. 
 
 Lot and his Daughters, by Luca Giordano. The 
 figure of Lot better than that of the females. The 
 coming out of his legs is particularly striking. 
 
 Holy Family in Egypt, by Le Serve. 
 
 View on the river Cherwell, by Greenhill. 
 
 In the Scarlet Bed-chamber' 
 
 Sir Charles Lyttelton, and a black boy, hyLzFeyrc. 
 
 Louise de Qjterouaille Duchess of Portsmouth, a 
 luxuriant portrait, by Le Fevre. This female was 
 a favourite mistress of Charles II. artfully intro- 
 duced to him by Louis XIV. wheu he wanted to
 
 C 87 ] 
 
 bind the English Monarch to the French interest; 
 and events fully justified the selection, for at no 
 period was the business of the British Court car- 
 ried on with a greater subserviency to that of 
 France. She died at Paris 1734, astat 89. 
 
 George Lord Lyttelton, by Sir J. Reynolds. 
 
 The Woman taken in Adultery, by Varotari, 
 the best scholar of Paul Veronese. 
 
 Spanish Soldiers playing at Dice, by Mr. Pa- 
 tour, an imitation of Giorgeani's manner; a fine 
 picture, the figures prodigiously animated. 
 
 In the scarlet dressing-room 
 
 The hero William of Nassau, founder of the 
 Dutch Republic, by Miravelt; a heavy squat 
 figure, thoughtful, dark, and melancholy, but 
 with a sagacious, expressive countenance, and eyes 
 of fire. Sir Alexander Temple, by C. Janssen. 
 
 Sir John Lyttelton, by Zucchero, 1557. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lyttelton, knight and baronet, father 
 to Sir Charles, by Van Somer. 
 
 Catherine his wife, daughter of Sir Thomas 
 Crompton, by C. Janssen. 
 
 Sir Edward Carew, by Old Stone. 
 
 Sir Francis Vere, a gallant knight of the 16th 
 century; who, as a recompence for repeated marks 
 of valour, was appointed governor of Flushing 
 1596, by Queen Elizabeth. Obiit 1608.
 
 [ 88 ] 
 
 Ferdinand Lyttelton, brother of Sir Charles, 
 by Zoust. 
 
 Muriel, by C. Janssen, daughter of Sir Thomas 
 Bromley, lord chancellor. On the accession of 
 James I. she received, as an act. of mercy, the for- 
 feited estates of her husband Mr. John Lyttleton, 
 who had been condemned to death, and had his 
 estates confiscated, for the part he bore in Essex's 
 plot. Her rational piety was evinced in carefully 
 educating her children in the Protestant faith, the 
 Lyttelton family, previously to that time, having 
 been bigotted Papists; and her humility was dis- 
 played in her choice of a place of sepulture in 
 the centre of the church-yard, amongst the croud 
 of " unhonoured dead." There her remains re- 
 pose under a plain tomb, bearing the following 
 inscription: 
 
 " lG (Christ is my life) 30 
 
 " and 
 " Death my advantage. 
 " I trust to see the Lord 
 " In the land of the living." 
 
 Prince Maurice, when young, by Dobson. He 
 was third ;on of the King of Bohemia, and brother 
 to Prince Rupert ; and signalized himself by his mi- 
 litary exploits during the civil wars of Charles Ist's 
 reign. If he wanted his brother's fire, he greatly
 
 C 89 ] 
 
 surpassed him in prudence and discretion, in well 
 knowing how to follow up any advantages which 
 he had gained over his enemy; an important species 
 of military knowledge, which the impetuous spirit 
 of Rupert prevented him from ever acquiring. 
 Lady Paget, by C. Janssen. 
 Lady Crompion, wife of Sir Thomas Crompton, 
 daughter to Lady Paget, and mother of Catherine 
 lady of Sir Thomas Lyttelton; by C. Janssen. 
 The 9>ueen of Bohemia, by C. Janssen. 
 Christ with his Disciples at Emmaus, supposed 
 by Le Brun. 
 
 In the library, over the chimney we find Pope, 
 with his dog Bounce; by Richardson. If the 
 painter has failed in his likeness of the faithful 
 companion of our celebrated poet, we have a full 
 description of the favourite by his master, in one 
 of his epistles to Mr. Cromwell, where he reports 
 him " little, lean, and none of the finest shaped. 
 " He is not much a spaniel in his fawning, but 
 " has a dumb surly sort of kindness that rather 
 " shews itself when he thinks me ill-used by others, 
 " than when we walk peaceably and quietly by 
 " ourselves." 
 
 Gilbert West, the intimate friend and companion 
 of George Lord Lyttelton, and the great Earl of 
 Chatham. By the patronage of the latter noble-
 
 C 90 ] 
 
 man, he was nominated to the office of treasurer of 
 Chelsea Hospital in 1752; a sinecure, which, in 
 addition to one of the lucrative clerkships of the 
 privy council, enabled him to pass in affluence and 
 ease a life too short for the wishes of his friends. 
 Grief for the loss of an only son provoked a stroke 
 of the palsy, which brought him to the grave, 
 Anno Domini 1756. 
 
 'James Thomson^ son of a dissenting minister in 
 Scotland. Soon after his arrival in London, he 
 was engaged as travelling tutor to the son of 
 Chancellor Talbot, by whom he was made secretary 
 of the briefs. On the death of his patron, our poet , 
 was either too proud or too timid to solicit a con- 
 tinuance of the employment, and his affairs again 
 fell into a poetical posture. By the recommenda- 
 tion of George Lord Lyttelton, he obtained a pen- 
 sion of one hundred pounds per annum from Fre- 
 deric Prince of Wales; and under the same influ- 
 ence gained the appointment of surveyor-general 
 of the Leeward-Islands. As a poet, he may al- 
 most be styled the child of nature; when we read 
 his ' Seasons,' we sec around us all that he de- 
 scribes, and wonder that the view has so long 
 escaped us. Obiit 1748. JEt. 47. 
 
 Over the bookcases are four good marble Busts, 
 by Slitemakcr, representing Milton, Shakespeare,
 
 t: si ] 
 
 Spenser, and Dryden. They are the more interest- 
 ing, from the circumstance of their having been 
 the property of Pope, and bequeathed by him to 
 George Lord Lyttelton. 
 
 From most of the rooms the views are agreeably 
 diversified; and a still greater variety might have 
 been introduced, had the little parish church (as I 
 have before observed) been allowed to make a fea- 
 ture in the scene. In the time of George Lord 
 Lyttelton, who was not ashamed of such a neigh- 
 bour, its ivied tower and Gothic windows peeped 
 prettily from the woods that now encircle it, and 
 threw into the pleasing impressions which the sur- 
 rounding scenery excited, the agreeable idea of 
 public social worship. But this did not symphonize 
 with the feelings of his successor; to him the house 
 of God was a bugbear, and as such he determined 
 to conceal it from his sight. He, therefore, thick- 
 ened his plantations; and so effectually, as to pre- 
 clude all appearance of the little picturesque struc- 
 ture, till it be nearly approached. As we listened 
 to this fact, recorded by an old inhabitant of the 
 place, we could not but advert to the singular and 
 powerful opposition of character exemplified in the 
 two successive possessors of Hagley-park Lord 
 George, and his son. The former a man of the 
 highest intellectual powers and acquirements, and
 
 C 92 ] 
 
 at the same time of the warmest piety and most 
 exalted virtue; the champion of the Christian cause, 
 and the able assert or of the truth of the Gospel; 
 whose treatise on the Conversion of St. Paul will 
 ever remain a monument of his religion and his 
 talents; a composition clear in style and irresistible 
 in argument, at once calculated to confirm the be- 
 liever, to convince the sceptic, and to silence the 
 infidel. The latter, also, of lofty intellect and 
 splendid attainments, but of equal profligacy and 
 irreligion; the fascinating seducer of innocence, 
 and the shameless contemner of every thing sacred; 
 whose short, but pernicious, life was passed in 
 scoffing at the obligation of virtue, and violating the 
 sanctions of morality; but who, after all his bold 
 impiety, was at last literally frightened to death, by 
 the horrible fantasies of his own imagination. The 
 ghost story, to which I allude, is too generally 
 known to render it necessary for me to trouble you 
 with it at present. Let it be sufficient for me to re- 
 mark, that the family continue to believe the reality 
 of die supernatural appearance to his lordship; and 
 a very near relation of his has had a painting made 
 of the occurence, wherein Ix>rd Lyttelton is repre- 
 sented in bed, at the fool of- which stands a little 
 female figure, bearing upon hei t'nger a small bird, 
 whilst several demoniacal figures are fluttering
 
 [ 93 ] 
 
 about his head; such being the vision (according 
 to his account to his valet) that had appeared, and 
 notified to him he should die at a particular hour. 
 To afford encouragement and corroboration to vir- 
 tue, it may be well for it to recoiled!:, that there is 
 no guilt without horror, no vice without remorse. 
 
 Amidst all those corruscations of wit, and flashes 
 of merriment, which incessantly emanated from this 
 young and gallant nobleman, his heart was wrung 
 with everlasting care, and his soul harrowed by su- 
 perstitious alarms. Of the truth of this assertion 
 the following is a remarkable instance: A few 
 months before he died, he made a visit to the seat 
 
 of Lord , an old friend and neighbour. The 
 
 mansion is old and gloomy, and well calculated to 
 affeft an imagination that could be easily a&ed 
 upon; the spirits of his lordship appeared to be 
 agitated on entrance, but after a time his accus- 
 tomed hilarity returned, the magic of his tongue 
 enraptured the circle; and all, apparently, was 
 festivity and delight. As the night waned and 
 the hour of repose approached, his lordship's 
 powers of conversation became still more extraor- 
 dinary ; the company were rivetted to their chairs, 
 and as often as the clock admonished them to de- 
 part, so often did he prevail upon them to forget 
 the admonition, by a fresh stock of anecdote, or a
 
 [ & ] 
 
 new chain of witticisms. At length, however, 
 the party broke up, and retired to their rooms ; 
 
 where, after a short time, Lord was surprised 
 
 by the intrusion of his friend Lord Lyttelton, who, 
 with a countenance of horror and consternation, 
 requested that he might be allowed to sleep in the 
 same room with him, as he had been frightened by 
 the creaking of the floors when he first entered the 
 house, and was not able to conquer the alarm 
 which the noise had excited in his mind! 
 
 In our way to Stourbridge, the noble charity of 
 Thomas Foley, esq; ancestor of the present lord, 
 lying a little out of the road to the left hand, at- 
 tracted our notice. An estate devised by this phi- 
 lanthropic character, now netting about eight hun- 
 dred pounds per ann. supports the establishment; 
 which educates, clothes, and feeds, sixty poor chil- 
 dren belonging to the parish of Old Swinford, 
 wherein it is situated, and the neighbouring 
 parishes, and at a certain age places them in the 
 world as apprentices to different callings. Their 
 \ is similar to that of Christ's-llospital, and the 
 lationsof thecollegein a great measure the same. 
 
 The glass manufactories are the only objects of 
 curiosity at Stourbridge; great quantities of white 
 glass are made at them, but there is nothing par- 
 ticular in their process or produce. Shortly after
 
 C 95 ] 
 
 quitting this place, we dropped the sandy soil 
 which had accompanied us for several miles, and 
 entered upon a stiff clay, the external covering to 
 these productive mines of coals, and that peculiar 
 nodulated iron ore, which now began to appear 
 on all sides of us. 
 
 The locality of coal and ore in these parts is 
 somewhat singular, since they only extend to the 
 distance of about six miles round Dudley, and are 
 then lost, and succeeded by sand. Indeed, the 
 whole geology of this district is curious, and well 
 deserves the attention of the naturalist. Fortu- 
 nately for the lovers of science, its peculiarities have 
 been ably developed by Mr. Keir, the celebrated 
 chemist and natural philosopher; whose paper on 
 this subject makes the most valuable feature in the 
 History of Staffordshire. A constant resident on 
 the spot, and an attentive observer of the pheno- 
 mena it presents, his observations form a complete 
 history of local geology, and afford an admirable 
 model for writers on the same subjeftj who, in- 
 stead of extending their remarks so widely as they 
 are accustomed to do, and attempting general 
 geological histories, would do well to embrace 
 merely the district within their own constant ob- 
 servation j and when facls have thus been suffici-
 
 C 96 ] 
 
 ently multiplied, to begin the ere&ion of systems 
 on their broad and solid foundation, rather than 
 on the unsubstantial basis of airy hypothesis. 
 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 R. W.
 
 
 
 N 
 
 Icl Castktoa 
 
 
 Elden-Hole 
 Pool's-Hole q y^ 
 
 <& 
 
 J81 
 
 Tidswell 
 
 
 Buxton [pg^ 
 
 
 
 \pl Stoney -Middletoa 
 if jfifc^hatsworth 
 jo] Eakewell 
 >^&. Darley 
 
 
 Matlock 
 
 Islam J 
 
 Oakover Bfel '! 
 Ashbounr 
 
 Ksddleston ^ . 
 
 Derby 
 
 Dudley I 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 CastJeton, Jmis Btb. 
 
 HP 1 HE situation of Dudley castle is very impo- 
 *" sing at a distance. Crowning the summit 
 of a limestone hill, it proudly overlooks the adjoin- 
 ing town, and commands a view of seven English 
 and two Welch counties, eighteen churches, se- 
 veral large manufacturing towns, different ranges
 
 [ 93 ] 
 
 of mountains, and numerous elegant mansions and 
 extensive parks. The ruin also, seen from afar, 
 is august ; but on our approach, we find that (like 
 many other things which are more interesting in 
 perspective than when immediately under our 
 eyes) it loses a great part of its grandeur, and 
 drops all its claim to the picturesque. The hill, 
 denuded of timber, affords nothing to contrast 
 with or soften down the bare walls, unadorned 
 with ivy, and rendered still more harsh by the asso- 
 ciation of modern mansions which unite with the 
 foot of the hill, and interrupt any illusion which 
 the fancy might be otherwise inclined to present 
 in the contemplation of ancient castellated ruins. 
 Not that the fabric was always thus exposed and 
 naked; noble woods once surrounded it, from 
 whence the towers and battlements, " bosomed 
 " high in tufted trees," peeped out, and only dis- 
 closed enough of the building to excite the imagi- 
 nation by partial concealment, and interest the 
 taste by picturesque association. It is said to have 
 been founded by Dodo the Saxon chieftain, about 
 the commencement of the eighth century; though 
 certainly no member of the present fortress is older 
 than the Anglo-Norman times. It stands upon 
 icre of ground, and consists of many dilapida- 
 ted bu'ldings of different ages, and various archi-
 
 [ 99 ] 
 
 lecture. Of these the most ancient is the keep, 
 preserved by its superior strength of structure 
 from those effects of time which are more visible 
 on the less substantial parts* We took it to be 
 of the age of Stephen or John. Two fine win- 
 dows of the chapel, rich in tracery, testify the 
 beauty of this part of the building; and the dun- 
 geon under it points out the harsh usages of the 
 feudal times* and the monstrous associations of 
 those days, when they could make the praises of the 
 Deity go hand in hand with the tortures of their 
 fellow-creatures, and unite the mass with murder. 
 Other apartments are of the architecture of the 1 6th 
 century. Until the restoration of Charles II. Dud- 
 ley-castle was entirely confined to military purposes, 
 and generally in the hands of the crown; but when 
 settled government rendered these securities against 
 rebellion unnecessary, it passed into the family of 
 a subjeft, and became the residence of the Lords 
 Ward. In the early part of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury being deserted, a troop of coiners fixed their 
 abode in its dilapidating apartments; and carried 
 on their illegal proceedings there without interrup- 
 tion for some time; deterring all idle curiosity 
 from approaching the place, by imposing upon the 
 superstition of the neighbourhood with strange 
 VOL. i. H
 
 [ ioo ] 
 
 noises and alarming appearances. A conflagra- 
 tion drove them away on the 24th of July 1750, 
 but whether an accidental one, or deliberately done, 
 was never discovered. The remains of the Priory 
 stand a quarter of a mile west of the castle, and 
 consist of some unintelligible fragments, and part 
 of the conventual church. A good Gothic win- 
 dow at the east side of the building, and some 
 beautiful mouldings in other parts, mark the splen- 
 dour of its original appearance, when founded by 
 Gervase Paganell, lord of the manor, in the year 
 1 1 6 1 . The walls are now occupied by manufac- 
 turers, who, in a little adjoining building, grind 
 the glass made in the neighbouring town, and 
 polish fire-irons, and other articles of steel. 
 
 But the mineralogy of Dudley is more remark- 
 able than its antiquities. This place may be con- 
 sidered as forming the centre of two ranges of hills, 
 of which one runs towards the north to Wolver- 
 hampton, and consists of lime-stone; the other 
 takes a southern course from Dudley, through 
 Rowley, (from thence called the Rowley hills) 
 towards Birmingham, and consists of basalt. On 
 ilu last of the former chain is situated part of the 
 town of Dudley, and the ruins of its castle ; which 
 are undermined by stupendous quarries of admira- 
 ble lime-stone, whose gaping entrance is half a mile
 
 C 101 ] 
 
 to the north of the castle. Here a prodigious scene 
 of subterraneous excavation discovers itself, con- 
 sisting of several lime-stone mines and tunnels 
 worked into the rock, one of which perforates it 
 entirely, and opens again into day at the distance 
 of nearly two miles from its entrance. This is 
 thirteen feet high and nine wide, and at one point 
 sixty-four feet below the surface of the earth. The 
 caverns are truly august, being of great extent, 
 and considerable height ; their roof supported by 
 vast rude square pillars of lime-stone, left for that 
 purpose. Various marine productions are found 
 in this mass of rock, such as enchrini, cornua 
 ammonis, anomia, and other common fossils; but 
 the rarest production of this sort is the pediculus 
 marinus, or sea-louse, the entimolithus paradoxus 
 monoculi deperditi of Linnaeus, but called, in the 
 homely naturalist's vocabulary of the place where 
 it is found, the Dudley locust. In form it resembles 
 the common wood-louse, except that it is trilobated, 
 and exceeds it considerably in size, some specimens 
 being nearly five inches long, and few so small as 
 the recent insect generally is. Being discovered 
 only at Dudley and another place in the kingdom, 
 the fossil is the more valuable; a circumstance not 
 unknown to the venders of these productions of the
 
 [ 102 ] 
 
 mines at Dudley, who charge most unconscionably 
 for all their specimens. 
 
 On quitting Dudley for Walsall, the coal ac- 
 companied us for four or five miles, when all ves- 
 tiges of coal- works disappeared; the country 
 changed its face, and a silicious gravel occupied 
 the place of the clayey soil, which denoted this 
 bituminous fossil beneath it. The lime-stone, 
 however, was still seen; and the town of Walsall 
 appeared from afar, climbing up a lofty hill of this 
 rock, the church crowning its apex. 
 
 Dingy with the smoke of manufactories, Wal- 
 sall boasts no great beauty, but makes a respecta- 
 ble figure in the southern parts of Staffordshire, as 
 a place of trade and opulence. Its population, in- 
 cluding its two divisions, the town which is called 
 the borough, and the country part called the foreign, 
 amounts to about nine thousand; a great portion 
 of whom are employed in the manufactory of Sad- 
 ler's ironmongery, stirrups, bits, and spurs, locks 
 and nails. Before the war, also, very large quan- 
 tities of buckles and chapes were made at Walsall, 
 and exported into foreign countries; but this branch 
 of manufacture is now nearly extinguished, and the 
 inhabitants, in lieu of it, have turned their atten- 
 tion to the lime-stone mining, which is pursued 
 just without the town to vast extent and equal ad-
 
 [ 103 ] 
 
 vantage. So great indeed are the profits attending 
 this speculation, that the value of such property 
 as has lime-stone upon it has increased within these 
 very few years in an incredible proportion, two 
 thousand pounds having been offered for a garden 
 in the town of less than half an acre in dimensions, 
 on account of the valuable limestone below 
 its surface. 
 
 Taking the road to Lichfieldj we had an oppor- 
 tunity of examining with more attention these 
 sources of riches to the town of Walsall. A little 
 to the right of the turnpike, close adjoining to the 
 road, is a group of open quarries, called Walsall 
 lime-pits, belonging to Mr. Griffiths of that town, 
 on a spot of ground that -twenty years ago made 
 part of a gentleman's park. Here the lime-stone 
 is found a few feet below the surface of the earth 
 quarried out, and partly burned on the spot and 
 partly sold in its raw state. A pump, worked by 
 a wheel of simple and ingenious construction, 
 clears the pits of the water to which they are liable; 
 and the Wirley and Essington Canal, which passes 
 at no great distance from the works, affords a 
 cheap water-carriage to the most distant parts. 
 
 A quarter of a mile further on the turnpike-road 
 is another great lime-stone work, worked in a dif- 
 ferent manner to the former ones. This lies, like
 
 [ l04> ] 
 
 the one we have just described, on the eastern side 
 of the road ; for the dip is so rapid to the westward, 
 that the borers have tried for it on that side of the 
 road to a great depth, but tried in vain; it is called 
 Moss-close mine, belongs to Messrs. Parsons and 
 Lee, and employs twelve men. This is worked in 
 the manner of a mine, (the rock a fine white lyas, 
 lying one hundred and twenty feet below the sur- 
 face of the ground) the material being blasted with 
 gunpowder, and afterwards drawn up by an engine. 
 The present work is a recent one, but the whole of 
 the land round it, quarried to a great extent, and 
 lying in hideous ruin and combustion, proves that 
 the lime-stone had made an article of trade here 
 many years ago. When brought to the surface, it 
 is sold at the pit for 4s. 3d. the qr. or ten bushels. 
 
 Our route led us over Cannock wood, as it is 
 called, a wide extent of heath, without a single 
 vestige of those magnificent forests of oaks which 
 clothed its face in former times, and occasioned 
 its appellation. Its wildness, however, is tamed 
 by the animation of commercial bustle perpetually 
 seen on the numerous canals that intersect its sur- 
 face, and afford communication between some of 
 the greatest manufacturing towns in the kingdom. 
 
 We did not enter Lichfield, nine miles from Wal- 
 sall, without impressions of great respeft for a
 
 [ 105 ] 
 
 city that gave birth to one of the first characters 
 which this kingdom can boast. We regarded with 
 reverence the house where Dr. Johnson had first 
 drawn his breath, and the great willow-tree planted 
 by the hand of a man who united every moral ex- 
 cellence with every intellectual endowment; the 
 rarest gifts of the mind with the noblest virtues of 
 the heart; who exhibited transcendent mental 
 powers, combined with all the aids of human 
 learning, ever laboriously employed in the defence 
 of religion and the corroboration of virtue. That 
 Johnson's character should be unmixed with foibles, 
 would be vain to expect, since no mortal can be 
 perfect:, or catch those graces which are beyond 
 the reach of humanity; but in appreciating this 
 character, let us recollect, that all these failings 
 leaned to virtue's side, and that they always mani- 
 fested the excess of a good principle, rather than the 
 presence of a bad one. Of this the following 
 anecdote you will probably consider as an example: 
 During the last visit which the Doctor made to 
 Lichfield, the friends with whom he was staying, 
 missed him one morning at the breakfast-table; on 
 enquiring after him of the servants, they under- 
 stood he had set off from Lichfield at a very early 
 hour, without mentioning to any of the family 
 whither he was going. The day passed without
 
 [ 106 ] 
 
 the return of the illustrious guest, and the party 
 began to be very uneasy on his account, when, 
 just before the supper-hour, the door opened, and 
 the Doctor stalked into the room. A solemn 
 silence of a few minutes ensued, nobody daring to 
 enquire the cause of his absence; which was at 
 length relieved by Johnson addressing the lady of 
 the house in the following manner: " Madam, 
 " I beg your pardon for the abruptness of my de- 
 " parture from your house this morning; but I 
 " was constrained to it by my conscience. Fifty 
 " years ago, Madam, on this day, I committed a 
 " breach of filial piety, which has ever since lain 
 " heavy on my mind, and has not till this day 
 " been expiated. My father, you recollecl:, was a 
 " bookseller, and had long been in the habit of 
 
 " attending market, and opening a stall for 
 
 " the sale of his books during that day. Confined 
 " to his bed by indisposition, he requested me this 
 " time fifty years ago to visit the market, and attend 
 " the stall in his place. But, Madam, my pride 
 " prevented me from doing my duty, and I gave 
 " my rather a refusal. To do away the sin of this 
 " disobedience, I this day went in a post-chaise to 
 " , and going into the market at the time of 
 
 " high business, uncovered my head, and stood 
 " with it bare an hour, before the stall which my
 
 [ 107 ] 
 
 " father had formerly used, exposed to the sneers 
 " of the standers-by, and the inclemency of the 
 " weather; a penance, by which, I trust, I have 
 " propitiated Heaven for this only instance, I be- 
 " lieve, of contumacy towards my father." 
 
 Since the removal of Mr. Green's museum from 
 Lichfield, the lions of the place are reduced to a 
 very narrow number. Amongst these the cathe- 
 dral offers itself first for observation; an edifice 
 uniform and beautiful, kept up with the utmost 
 nicety, neatness, and care. One regulation for the 
 preservation of its walls and the prevention of their 
 disfigurement by bad taste, is an order of the chap- 
 ter, prohibiting any monuments to be ere&ed with- 
 in the fabric, and directing that all notifications of 
 the names and ages of persons buried in the cathe- 
 dral should be inscribed on little tablets of black 
 marble, and inserted in the walls of the southern 
 transept. Previously to this sensible arrangement, 
 some few monuments had been erected, amongst 
 which are the following three, commemorating re- 
 markable persons, and bearing these inscriptions 
 
 <c Sacred to the memory of the Right Hon. LADY 
 MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE, who happily 
 introduced from Turkey into this country the salu- 
 tary art of Inoculating the Small-Pox. Convinced 
 pf its efficacy, she first tried it with success on her
 
 C 108 ] 
 
 own children, and then recommended the practice of 
 it to her fellow-citizens. Thus by her example and 
 advice we have softened the virulence, and escaped 
 the danger, of this malignant disease. To perpetuate 
 the memory of such benevolence, and to express her 
 gratitude for the benefit she herself has received 
 from this alleviating art, this monument is erected 
 by Henrietta Inge, relift of Theodore William Inge, 
 esq; and daughter of Sir John Wrottesley, bart. 
 A. D. I/89." 
 
 Near this tribute to the public spirit of the 
 witty and elegant Lady Mary Wortley Montague, 
 is a testimony of friendship to the memory of 
 Johnson, with these lines: 
 
 " The friends of SAMUEL JOHNSON, L.L. D. a 
 native of Lichfield, erected this monument as a tri- 
 bute of respect to the memory of a man of extensive 
 learning} a distinguished moral writer, and a sincere 
 christian. He died 13th Dec. 1784} aged 75 years." 
 
 Adjoining this monument is another, of equally 
 elegant and simple pattern, the design of Wyatt, 
 and execution of Westmacott, commemorating the 
 friend of Johnson, Garrick; the witty, the plea- 
 sant, and the vain. It is inscribed : 
 
 " Eva Maria, relia of DAVID GARRICK, esq ; caused 
 this monument to be erected lo the memory of her 
 beloved husband, who died the 20th of January 1~79> 
 aged 63 years. He had not only the amiable quali- 
 ties of private life, but such astonishing dramatic 
 talents, as too well verified the observation of his
 
 C 109 ] 
 
 friend : " His death eclipsed the gaiety of nations, 
 " and impoverished the public stock of harmless 
 " pleasure." 
 
 There is an air of bathos in this remark, which 
 gives it rather a ridiculous effect, but it certainly 
 has truth for its foundation; for since the death of 
 the inimitable histrionical powers of Garrick, the 
 stage has alike lost its force to charm, and its in- 
 fluence to improve. The compliment, also, only 
 extends to a single feature in the character of 
 Garrick; if you wish to have the whole form com- 
 plete, I must recommend you to that admirable 
 painter of the human mind, Goldsmith, who has 
 analyzed that of his dramatic friend with all the 
 power of a master: 
 
 " Here lies David Garrick, describe me who can, 
 An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man; 
 As an aftor, confest without rival to shine; 
 As a wit, if not first, in the very first line: 
 Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart, 
 The man had his failings a dupe to his art. 
 Like an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread, 
 And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red. 
 On the stage he was natural, simple, affe&ing; 
 'Twas only that when he was off, he was a6ting. 
 With no reason on earth to go out of his way, 
 He turn'd and he vary'd full ten times a day; 
 Tho' secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick, 
 If they were not his own by finessing and trick: 
 He cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack, 
 For he knew when hepleas'd he could whistle them back.
 
 C "0 1 
 
 Of praise a mere glutton, he swallowed what came, 
 And the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for fame ; 
 Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, 
 Who pepper'd the highest, was surest to please. 
 But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, 
 If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind." 
 
 The most ancient part of the cathedral is the 
 western division, built by Roger Cleriton, in 1 148, 
 and pronounced by Sir William Chambers to be 
 the n.ost beautiful thing of the kind in Europe. 
 Indeed, the whole cathedral is august and uniform, 
 but (strange to say) not built in a srait line; for 
 on vieur'g the interior from the great western 
 door, it appears that the altar, which is placed 
 exactly in the centre of the eastern end, does not 
 stand opposite to the entrance. On the south side 
 of the western door is the monument of Launcelot 
 Addison, father to the celebrated author of the 
 Spectator.' The choir may be truly said to be 
 simplex munditiis\ nothing gaudy, nothing super- 
 fluous, and finely terminated by the Lady's chapel, 
 whose window exhibits a magnificent specimen of 
 Mr. Eggington's painting upon glass, in a superb 
 picture of the Resurrection; which is intended to 
 be supported on each side by the Crucifixion and 
 Ascension, from designs of Jarvis. On returning 
 through the south-eastern aile, we could not but 
 stop a moment at the tomb of Bishop Hacket, a
 
 [ 111 ] 
 
 prelate of the seventeenth century, whose piety and 
 munificence were both exerted in an extraordinary 
 manner to repair and re-edify the cathedral of 
 Lichfield, which had been almost destroyed by the 
 sacrilegious hands of the Oliverians. For this good 
 purpose the venerable man drew from his own 
 purse the sum of 5000I. and added 23000I. more, 
 which he had collected together by begging at the 
 doors of the inns the benevolences of travellers as 
 they arrived there, for eight years together. 
 
 Original genius did not depart from Lichfield 
 when Johnson and Garrick turned their backs upon 
 the city; for it has now to boast of two extraor- 
 dinary self-taught artists in the pictorial line Mr. 
 Glover, and his apprentice Mr. Fernyhough. 
 Landscape is the department in which Mr. Glover 
 excels chiefly; and in some of his superior pieces, 
 both the manner and colouring of the first masters 
 of the Italian school are attempted with great efifect. 
 He shewed us a good original picture of Luca 
 Giordano's, Hercules and Omphale; harsh, but 
 superlatively grand. 
 
 The situation of Lichfield is low, the land around 
 it flat, and the soil sandy; a character of country 
 that accompanied us the greater part of the road 
 to Burton-upon-Trent; a ride, however, that was 
 rendered interesting, by the great trunk canal con-
 
 C 2 ] 
 
 netting Mersey with Trent, which took a course 
 parallel with the road for a considerable distance; 
 some iron-works, busily employed upon its banks; 
 the fertile meadows, watered by the Trent in 
 the neighbourhood of Burton, and the rich pastu- 
 rages rising above the town on its northern side. 
 The flourishing appearance of the place announced 
 the several manufactories which are here carried on 
 with briskness and success; seven breweries em- 
 ployed in making that rich and glutinous beverage 
 named after the town, and well known in the 
 neighbourhood, of Gray's-Inn Lane; " balm of 
 " the cares, sweet solace of the toils," of many an 
 exhausted limb of the law, who, at the renowned 
 Peacock, re-invigorates his powers with a nipperkin 
 of Burton ale, and a whiff of the Indian weed; a 
 cotton-mill; and a manufactory of screws. The 
 river admits vessels of forty tons to the town quay, 
 and connecting itself, by means of canals, with all 
 the other parts of the kingdom, affords a ready and 
 cheap exportation to the produce of all the manu- 
 factories of the place. A most pleasing picture, 
 formed by Burton, the river Trent, (which divides 
 itself about half a mile below the bridge into two 
 branches) vessels and fishing-boats, a fine extent 
 of meadow ornamented with handsome houses and 
 neat demesnes, presents itself on mounting the hill
 
 [ 113 3 
 
 that swells to a considerable height on the north- 
 ern part of the town. 
 
 Pursuing our road to Derby, we soon perceived 
 the style of the country was changing; and that 
 nature, tired with the tameness of a level, began 
 to indulge herself in inequalities and variety. The 
 grand trunk occasionally shewed itself an indica- 
 tion of the great internal commerce carried on in 
 this part of the kingdom. The river Dove also, 
 of bewitching name, (which rises a little to the 
 south of Burton, and makes the boundary between 
 Derbyshire and Staffordshire, as far as its junction 
 with the Trent below Burton) crossed the turn- 
 pike at the eighth mile-stone, and crouched beneath 
 an aqueducT: of twelve arches to the right, which 
 conveyed the canal over its bosom; whilst a beau- 
 tiful landscape offered itself to the right, formed by 
 the village of Eggington, the seat of Sir Henry 
 Everett, and a pleasing groupe of humbler dwellings. 
 
 On reaching Derby, its manufa&ures claimed 
 our first attention. They consist of the silk manu- 
 factory; the porcelaine ditto; and the marble and 
 spar works. Of the first, there are six in Derby; 
 that of Mr. Shell employs about three hundred 
 people; one single water-wheel sets in motion all 
 the beautiful machinery, which exhibits above one 
 hundred thousand different movements. All ope-
 
 [ 114 ] 
 
 rations upon the silk are performed here, from the 
 skain to preparing it for the weaver. The skarn 
 (the production of China) is first placed upon hex- 
 agonal frame- work wheels, and the filaments that 
 compose it regularly wound ofFupon a smaller cylin- 
 drical one. The cones of silk thus produced are 
 carried below to be twisted, when a proper machine 
 unites two of them together. The women then 
 receive the thread, and twist four, seven, or ten of 
 them into one, according to the purposes for which 
 they are intended; the finer thread going to the 
 stocking-weaver, the latter to the manufacturer of 
 waistcoat-pieces. It is now fit for the dyer, who 
 discharges the glue which it had received in China, 
 and gives it a beautiful gloss. The weaver then 
 takes it, and proceeds to his part of the process; 
 which is so lucrative, that if he have the least in- 
 dustry, he may earn two guineas per week by his 
 labour; the profits upon a single pair of stockings 
 being from three to four shillings and sixpence, ac- 
 cording to the size. A common one consumes about 
 seven hundred yards of twist. It is to the Italians 
 we are indebted for our present elegant and expediti- 
 ous mode of manufacturing silk thread; who were 
 long exclusively in possession of it, till Sir Thomas 
 Lombe clandestinely obtained in Italy, with great 
 risque, difficulty, and expence, a model of one of
 
 [ 115 ] 
 
 their mills, and ere&ed one upon the proper scale 
 at Derby. 
 
 Carr's porcelain manufactory (lately belonging 
 to Mr. Dewsbury) is carried on by a process pre- 
 cisely similar to that at Worcester, except that the 
 ware here is rather lighter and more transparent 
 than at the latter place. The biscuit pieces or 
 white ware, also, are made at Derby, surpassing in 
 beauty and delicacy any thing in the whole world 
 of the same kind. The method followed for the 
 purpose is this: The proper materials being re- 
 duced to a liquid of the consistence of thick cream, 
 a sufficient quantity of this is poured into moulds 
 made of plaster of Paris. The water contained in 
 the mixture is quickly absorbed by the plaster, 
 and a crust left, sufficiently hard and tenacious to 
 be turned out of the mould. This is then dried 
 and trimmed, and joined to the other parts of the 
 figure, whatever it maybe; for all the patterns are 
 composed of various pieces, formed in separate 
 moulds. The article is then sent to the kiln, from 
 whence it comes out white as snow. This is the 
 only manufa&ory of the kind in the town, and 
 employs between two and three hundred men. 
 
 The largest marble work belongs to Brown and 
 Co. where forty journeymen are employed in cut- 
 ting, smoothing, and polishing marble; andmanu- 
 
 VOL. I, I
 
 [ H6 ] 
 
 fa&uring Derbyshire spar into a variety of beau, 
 tiful ornamental forms; vases, pillars, &c. The 
 round patterns are worked on vertical lathes, the 
 square figures on horizontal ones ; and both polished 
 with emery powder and putty. One large water- 
 wheel is sufficient for the whole machinery of the 
 manufactory, which is novel, simple, and ingenious. 
 Derby, independently of the different obje&s of 
 curiosity we have described, is in itself worth seeing, 
 from the beauty of its situation on the Derwent, 
 and the pleasing scenery of its environs ; particu- 
 larly the country about Little- Chester, a mile 
 below Derby, which, being said to have been 
 a Roman station, the Dcrventio of that people, 
 led us a delightful walk by the banks of the 
 Derwent to its scite. But stat nominis umbra, 
 only the name remains; and even the acuteness of 
 a Stukely would be insufficient to discover any 
 traces at present of classical antiquity. Its as- 
 sembly-room affords an example of the munificence 
 and taste of the Duke of Devonshire, at whose 
 expcnce it is furnished. The singularity of All- 
 Saints* church, also, is remarkable; to the beau- 
 tiful Gothic tower of which, built in the reign of 
 Henry VIII. is added a Grecian body by Gibbs, 
 about eighty years ago, of the chastest proportions, 
 and most classical design. It is only to be regret-
 
 . t m "] 
 
 ted, that so much taste and art should have been 
 exerted to produce a disgusting incongruity. 
 
 The splendid mansion of Lord Scarsdale being 
 included in our route, we proceeded along the 
 Ashbourne road on quitting Derby for nearly three 
 miles; when we reached the handsome inn of 
 Kiddlestone, built by his Lordship for the accommo- 
 dation of such strangers as curiosity may lead to 
 view his residence. The house (erected by the pre- 
 sent Lord in 1761) stands half a mile to the left 
 of the inn, from whence it is approached by a foot- 
 path, which conduces the visitor to the Baths, a 
 simple elegant building, ambushed in yew-trees, 
 having accommodations for hot and cold bathing, 
 and covering a medicinal spring of the same kind, 
 strongly impregnated with sulphur as the water of 
 Harrowgate, but of less power: these are rented 
 by the innkeeper. Following the path, it con- 
 ducted us to a noble stone bridge of three arches, 
 thrown over a large piece of water, amplified to its 
 present extent by cutting away judiciously the 
 banks of the little brook Weston, which formerly 
 rilled through the park in' quiet and insignificance. 
 The surface of this wide sheet above the bridge is 
 broken into several falls, which are caught from 
 the house with good effect. From hence a gentle 
 ascent leads to the house, whose front (three hun-
 
 [ 118 ] 
 
 dred and sixty feet in extent) is a grand specimen of 
 Adams's architectural taste and skill. The front, 
 which is of white stone, hewn on Lord Scarsdale's 
 estate, divides itself into three parts a body and 
 two pavillions, connefted to the main building by 
 corridors of the Doric order, taking a sweeping 
 form; that on the right (as we approach it J com- 
 prizing the kitchen and offices, that on the left 
 consisting of Lord Scarsdale's private apartments. 
 In the centre of the front (to the north) is a double 
 flight of steps leading to a grand portico, whose 
 pediment is supported by six pillars of the Corin- 
 thian order. From hence is a beautiful home view, 
 embracing the skilful improvements of Lord Scars- 
 dale, whose gigantic plan included the transplant- 
 ing of a village that stood in front of the house to 
 a distant part ; the removal of a turnpike-road, 
 which ran within fifty yards of it, to its present 
 situation; and the extension of a trifling brook 
 into a noble expanse of water. 
 
 Descending the flight of steps, we entered the 
 house at the basement or rustic story, by a door 
 under the portico conducing into a large low room, 
 called C,Tsar's-Hall from its ornaments, the busts 
 of several of the emperors, which leads into the 
 tttrastyle, a similar apartment. From hence we 
 ascended the great stair-case, decorated uith busts
 
 C "9 ] 
 
 from the antique; and were ushered into the hall, 
 a- room the most striking that fancy can picture, its 
 dimensions sixty-seven feet by forty-two within the 
 walls. The coved ceiling of this apartment, illu- 
 minated with three sky-lights, rises to the top of 
 the house, and is supported by twenty columns 
 twenty-five feet high, of beautiful English varie- 
 gated marble, with rich capitals of white marble. 
 Within these pillars are twelve niches, each con- 
 taining a good cast from the antique; of these 
 an Apollo and Meleager are the best. Above 
 them are several good paintings in chiaro obscuro. 
 From the hall we were conducted into the Musk- 
 Room, (thirty-six feet by twenty-four, and twenty- 
 two feet high) where we found the following pro- 
 ductions of the pictorial art: 
 
 An Holy Family, by Leonardo da Vinci. 
 
 The Triumph of Bacchus, a large piece, by Luca 
 Giordano; the figure of Bacchus beautiful and spi- 
 rited, as described by Milton, 
 
 ' with clust'ring locks, 
 " With ivy berries wreath'd, and blithe in youth." 
 
 An Old Man's Head, by Rembrandt. 
 
 The Grecian* Daughter, by Andrea Pozzo. 
 
 The Drawing-Room (forty-four feet by thirty- 
 eight) has a coved ceiling its portals, columns, and 
 pediments, of marble and is elegantly fitted up.
 
 C 12 ] 
 
 Here are A fine Landscape, by Cuyp. 
 Orlando and Olympia, a noble picture, by Han- 
 nibal Carracci. 
 
 Naaman*s Story; the joint composition of Mom- 
 pert, Teniers, Old Banks, and Brueghel. The 
 composition of this picture is good, and the distant 
 mountains fine; but altogether it is harsh, and the 
 colours are too vivid. 
 
 A small beautiful landscape, by C. Lorraine. 
 An Holy Family, Raphael; probably a copy. 
 The Woman anointing our Saviour's Feet, by 
 Benedetto Luti; a painting of which it is not 
 possible to speak in terms of praise too high. Op- 
 posite to this is an equally successful effort by the 
 same artist, the subject, Cain and Abel; in which 
 the chain of light is powerfully fine, and the ter- 
 ror and remorse of Cain after the murder, horribly 
 natural. 
 
 Virgin and Child, by Parmigiano. 
 Sleeping Cupid, by Guido. 
 In the Library, over the chimney, is one of the 
 finest productions of the pencil of Rembrandt; the 
 subject Daniel interpreting Belshazzar's Dream. 
 The solemnity of Daniel's figure; the attention and 
 alarm in the different faces; the grandeur of the 
 king; aud the splendid light emanating from the 
 mithra, or emblem of the sun, behind the king's
 
 C 121 ] 
 
 throne, are all indications of transcendent genius 
 and skill. 
 
 Diogenes, a powerful figure, by Luca Giordano. 
 
 Shakespeare, a copy by Vandyck. It would 
 have been desirable to ascertain from what picture 
 this copy was made, since commentators have not 
 differed more on the abstruse passages of our 
 immortal bard, than collectors have done as to the 
 originality of heads called Shakespeare. It was 
 for some time determined that there was no original 
 portrait of him, but that Sir Thomas Clarges, soon 
 after his decease, caused a painting to be made 
 from a person nearly resembling him; then came 
 Mr. Walpole, (whose deep researches in all ques- 
 tions connected with the arts justly entitle him to 
 the chara&er of an arbiter') with an opinion that 
 Mr. Keek's picture, engraved by Vertue, was ori- 
 ginal; since that time a variety of heads have been 
 discovered, and the names affixed without hesita- 
 tion. Obiit 1 6 17, Mt. 53. 
 
 Nathaniel Lord Scarsdale, and Catherine his 
 wife, by Stone. v 
 
 Old Man, half-length, by Salvator Rosa; very 
 fine and spirited. 
 
 Andromeda, by Guido; grave in the figure, but 
 a want of expression in the countenance. 
 
 Holy Family, by Nicolo del Abbatte.
 
 [ 122 ] 
 
 Here are also seven copies of antique busts- 
 The Saloon is a circular room crowned with a 
 dome; forty-two feet diameter, twenty-four feet to 
 the cornices, fifty-five feet to the top of the cupola, 
 and sixty-two to the extremity of the sky-light; 
 with four alcoves or recesses, and as many doors, 
 the whole painted and ornamented with white and 
 gold. The pillars that support the ceiling are of 
 Scaglioni marble, an imitation of the verd antique, 
 by Bartoli. Over the four doors are as many 
 paintings by Hamilton, of Ruins; and over the al- 
 coves four chiaro-obs euros , by Rebecca. In each of 
 these recesses is a stove of bronze, relieved with 
 classical representations, inclosing a grate of beau- 
 tiful pattern and highly-polished steel. A chande- 
 lier, branches, and exquisite stucco-work by Rose, 
 complete the decorations of this room, which may 
 be pronounced to be one of the most elegant apart- 
 ments in Europe, 
 
 From hence we were conducted to the south 
 front, the idea of which is taken from the arch of 
 Constantine at Rome; the entablature supported 
 by four Corinthian pillars; the face of the portico 
 ornamented with two vases, and some good re- 
 liefs; and the whole is surmounted by this liberal 
 and hospitable motto " A. D. 1765. N. Baro 
 " de Scarsdale amicis et sibi."
 
 [ 123 ] 
 
 Here we took a view of the southern division of 
 the park, which is seven miles round, and stocked 
 with oaks of enormous magnitude, some measuring 
 twenty-four feet in girth and one hundred and 
 eighteen feet in height. Returning into the ante- 
 chamber, we found a fine St. John, by Carlo 
 Maratti; and a Landscape, by Heusch. 
 
 In the dressing-root}!, wardrobe, and principal 
 bed-chamber, are 
 
 Lord and Lady Scars dale, by Stone. 
 Ruperta, natural daughter of Prince Rupert, 
 by Madame Hughes, an actress; by Kneller. 
 
 "James Duke of Ormond, by Lely; an active 
 character in the reign of Charles I. by whom he 
 was nominated lord-lieutenant of Ireland; and 
 faithfully attached to his son, whom he followed 
 into exile; for which he was, on the Restoration, 
 again appointed to the government of Ireland, and 
 enjoyed other places and honours. He was created 
 a duke 1682, and died 16&8. 
 
 Henry Jermyn Earl of St. Alban's, by Lely, was 
 second son of Sir Thomas Jermyn, of Suffolk. Of 
 the many who evinced their attachment to the un- 
 fortunate Charles, no one appears to have more 
 readily risqued life and fortune than this person- 
 age; whose zeal has indeed been construed into 
 something more than mere loyalty, as he is re-
 
 [ 124 2 
 
 ported to have been early favoured by, and finally 
 married to, Queen Henrietta Maria: on whom, 
 during the troubles of her husband, he faithfully 
 and diligently attended, through great perils and 
 danger, for which he was rewarded with the title 
 of Lord Jermyn; and was, for continued services 
 to the family previous to the Restoration, created 
 Earl of St. Alban's by Charles II. to whom he 
 was appointed chamberlain. If he were distin- 
 guished by his courage and intrepidity in the 
 troubled reign of Charles I. he was not less able 
 to shine, from the elegance of his person and man- 
 ners, in the licentious court of his successor; there- 
 fore we are not surprised to find mention of him 
 in Grammont's Memoirs. 
 
 Charles I. by Vandyck. 
 
 Nathaniel Baron Crewe Bishop of Durham, one 
 of the mast despicable characters in the annals of 
 James II. by whom he was selected as grand-inqui- 
 sitor of the ecclesiastical commission, at which he 
 rejoiced, " because it would render his name fa- 
 " mous [he might more properly have said infa- 
 mous] in history." On the reverse of fortune 
 which deservedly attended that misguided prince, 
 this obnoxious prelate, hoping to cancel the remem- 
 brance of his former offences, basely deserted the 
 sovereign who had raised him, and affected to
 
 [ 125 ] 
 
 espouse the cause of liberty, which he had so long 
 and so lately insulted. Ob. 1721, JEt. 88. 
 
 Cardinal Curzon, imaginary, 1 209. 
 
 Sir Paul Rycaut, by Vandyck. He was employed 
 in the diplomatic line by the two last of the Stuarts, 
 and their successor William; and has left us not 
 only proofs of his talents as a negociator, but also 
 as an historical writer. Whilst secretary to the 
 embassy at Constantinople, he composed an " Ac- 
 count of the Ottoman Empire, and a Continuation 
 of Knolles's History of the Turks:" whilst resi- 
 dent at Smyrna, he published " The present State 
 of the Greek and Armenian Churches." Ob. 1700. 
 
 Mary Countess of Dorset was daughter of Sir 
 George Curzon, and wife of Edward Earl of 
 Dorset, who was one of the most distinguished 
 ornaments of the Sackvilles. She was governess 
 to the children of Charles I. and so conspicuously 
 virtuous in her conduct, that it was voted in Parlia- 
 ment, after her decease, the funeral should be 
 performed at the public expence, and she was con- 
 sequently buried in great state, 1 645. 
 
 Hon. C. and H. Curzon, by Hamilton. 
 
 Duchess of Tor k, by Lely. 
 
 Prince Henry, by Cornelius Janssen; the amia- 
 ble son of James I. whose noble and manly con- 
 duel: had endeared him to all classes of his father's
 
 [ 126 ] 
 
 subjects; and who was spared, by early death, 
 from the misery of participating the checkered for- 
 tune of his family. Historians, in recording his 
 death, have agreed, that it was matter of infinitely 
 more regret to his acquaintance than his parent; 
 that to the former he was an object, of love and 
 esteem, whilst he was regarded by the latter with 
 eyes of jealousy and envy; and some have even 
 gone so far as to affirm that the king forbad mourn- 
 ing to be worn for him, but this appears to be 
 founded in error. Ob. 1612, JEt. 18. 
 
 >uintin Matsis, his Wife, arid Child, by himself; 
 * Omnia vincit amor** This artist was a native of 
 Antwerp, where he carried on the trade of a black- 
 smith; but becoming enamoured of the daughter 
 of a painter, who was willing to unite his child only 
 to one of his own profession, our son of Vulcan 
 quitted his forge for the easel, and soon made 
 himself sufficiently master of the art not only to 
 entitle him to his wife, but to the character of a 
 celebrated painter. His most esteemed picture is 
 known by the title of " The Misers,' and is in 
 the Royal collection at Windsor. 
 
 Louise Duchess of Portsmouth, on whose son the 
 title of Duke of Richmond was conferred by his 
 father Charles II. together with a grant of one 
 shilling per chaldron on all coals shipped in the
 
 C 127 ] 
 
 river Tyne; which was commuted by his present 
 Grace of Richmond, in 1800, for a perpetual 
 annuity of 19,0001. per annum, secured by Aft 
 of Parliament on the consolidated fund. 
 
 Sir Nathaniel Curzon, father to the present 
 Lord Scarsdale. Ob. 1758. He married 
 
 Mary, daughter of Sir Ralph Asheton. 
 
 Catherine Countess of Dorchester was daughter 
 of Sir Charles Sedley, and mistress to James II. 
 by whom she was raised to the rank of Countess ; 
 a situation which her father ever considered a splen- 
 did indignity offered to his family. An injury so 
 sensible could scarcely be forgotten, or remain un- 
 resented, when opportunity offered. On the first 
 agitation of the questions which brought about 
 the Revolution, Sir Charles was a distinguished 
 partizan, and at once indulged the parent's resent- 
 ment and wit's spleen, when he said, " The king 
 " did me the honour to make my daughter a Coun- 
 " tess, and I should be ungrateful indeed not to 
 *' assist in making his daughter (Mary Princess 
 " of Orange) a queen." When the remonstrances 
 of his confessors had induced James to break off 
 the connection with the Countess of Dorchester, 
 she married DavidEarl of Portmore, and died 1 7 1 7. 
 
 In the din'mg-rocm are, a fine picture by Snyders, 
 Ducks and Hawks. Landscape, by C. Lorraine.
 
 [ 128 ] 
 
 Two Landscapes, subjects from Milton's Allegro, 
 by Zuccarelli. Hagar and Is/mael, by Ciro Ferri. 
 
 The apartments which are shewn terminate with 
 the western pavillion, which consists of a noble 
 kitchen, viewed from a gallery connected with the 
 corridor. A very appropriate motto, enjoining 
 frugality and liberality, is inscribed over the chim- 
 ney, "Waste not, Want not." 
 
 You may imagine, from the above slight account 
 of Kiddlestone-House, that elegance and taste cha- 
 racterize every thing within and about it; but tQ 
 these let us not forget to observe, that comfort may 
 be added; for the apartments are not reserved for 
 shew alone, but constantly inhabited by the family, 
 and the numerous friends which his Lordship's 
 hospitality invites. 
 
 The country, as we pursued our route to Ash- 
 bourne, gradually assumed that appearance of 
 " untamed nature," which the Derbyshire sce- 
 nery so generally exhibits; the hills began to swell 
 into bold and sweeping protuberances, and the face 
 of the country to lose that cloathing of wood on 
 which our eye had hitherto with pleasure reposed. 
 This continued till we dropped into Ashbourne, a 
 neat town embosomed amid lulls, which rise around 
 it on every side, and confine within them a rich 
 vaUey, through the centre of whose lap the river
 
 [ 129 ] 
 
 Dove rolls his waters, stocked with a species of 
 trout of the most delicious flavour. Its fame for 
 cheese it is unnecessary to mention; an article sup- 
 plied by the dairy farms in its neighbourhood, 
 which are chiefly converted to this purpose. The 
 old church is a fine specimen of Gothic building; 
 and a noble monument of philanthropy presents 
 itself in the free-school, which an old writer tells 
 us, " Divers well-disposed citizens of London being 
 *' borne in or near to Ashbourne on the Peak, 
 " combining their loving benevolence together, 
 " built there, with convenient lodging for a master, 
 " and liberal maintenance allowed thereto.' ' 
 
 Our curiosity having been excited by the report 
 of some valuable pictures at Oakover, the ancient 
 seat of the family of that name, we wound up the 
 long hill to the north of Ashbourne, and directed 
 our course to Mappleton, three miles from thence; 
 a most picturesque village, a little to the left of 
 which lies the mansion above-mentioned, a sub- 
 stantial brick family-house, built about a century 
 since, snugly situated in a broad flat, on the banks 
 of the Dove. Deep woods shelter it on one side; 
 and Thorp-Cloud, a truncated conoidal mountain, 
 rears itself in front. The visitor is permitted to 
 see one room only in the house; but this is a jewel. 
 It contains the following exquisite pictures:
 
 C 130 ] 
 
 Over the chimney, an Holy Family, by Raphael, 
 about three feet and a half by two and a half, for 
 which seven thousand guineas have been offered! 
 The figures are the Virgin, Jesus, and John Baptist, 
 in front, and Joseph in the back-ground. The 
 richness of colouring, force, and expression of this 
 picture cannot be spoken of in terms of too high 
 praise. To the right of this is a Carlo Dolci, the 
 three Mary's at the Tomb of Jesus \ with all this 
 artist's characteristical softness, but stiff and tame. 
 This is succeeded by a Christ bearing his Cross , 
 by Titian ; a picture all nature, with respect td 
 flesh and colouring. The Unjust Steward, by 
 Rubens, next follows; the sorrow in the family of 
 the treacherous servant, who are fearful of his 
 being punished,- is aifetingly expressed. The 
 Baptism of Christ, by Titian ; the hands may be 
 almost felt. Venus and two Cupids, by Luca Gior- 
 dano; very tender, round, and natural. Looking 
 from the left at the picture, the limbs seem to come 
 out of the canvas. The Head of St. Paul, by 
 Rubens ; full of thought, grandeur, and expression. 
 A Flower-piece, by Varelst; exquisite in its way. 
 The Head of St. Jama minor, by Rubens, in his 
 greatest style. Three Children blowing bubbles, 
 supposed to be by Nascher; highly finished. A 
 grand picture by Titian, consisting of the following
 
 [ 131 ] 
 
 full lengths the saints Isidorus, Ignatius, Fran- 
 siscus Xavier, Sancta Teresia, and St. Philippus 
 Nerries, with this inscription: " Hi quinque S. S. 
 " a Gregorio XV. Pontif. Max. in S S. numerum 
 " relati fuere ipso die Gregorio sacro, id est, 4 id. 
 " Martii 1 622." The attitudes and dress of these 
 figures are different, but there is the same expres- 
 sion of devotion in their countenances. We could 
 not help lamenting, however, that so much art had 
 been thrown away on so absurd a subjecl. The 
 Women in the Garden conversing with two Angels, by 
 Rubens; a piece of more delicacy than majesty or 
 sublimity. Two Sea-pieces, by Vandervelt. 
 
 Our route, which pointed out Dove-Dale and 
 Islam as objects for the next visit, obliged us to 
 return to Ashbourne from Oakover, and to take 
 the Islam road; continuing along which for three 
 miles, we reached the Dog and Partridge, a small 
 public-house, (where we had been advised to quit 
 our carriage) gratified in our way thither by the view 
 of a broad vale, whch spread its rich bosom watered 
 by the Dovey to the left, and contrasted finely 
 with the rude and naked hills that heaved themselves 
 above it. Before us rose an heap of desert moun- 
 tains, amongst which Thorp-Cloud, in the fore- 
 ground, made a conspicuous and romantic figure, 
 from the singularity of its form; and produced that 
 
 vol. 1. K
 
 C 132 ] 
 
 emotion of wonder in the mind, which is found to 
 arise on the contemplation of regularity blended 
 with vastness. 
 
 The village of Thorp lay one mile from the pub- 
 lic-house above-mentioned, and surprized us with 
 one of the most agreeable objects we had long no- 
 ticed; its small church, seated upon the brow of a 
 hill, and so circumstanced with trees as to be ren- 
 dered highly picturesque. Taking a guide from 
 this place, we crossed the fields to Dove-Dale; 
 from the first of which the scene backward is ex- 
 tremely beautiful, and of a character entirely dis- 
 tinct from the savage wildness of that immediately 
 before us; which is composed of a deep hollow, 
 having the steep ascent of Thorp-Cloud to the left, 
 and another mountain, little inferior in magnitude, 
 to the right. Passing through this narrow ravine, 
 (where the eye is prevented from excursion, and 
 the mind thrown back upon itself) for half a mile, 
 a sudden turn introduced us to the southern termi- 
 nation of Dove-Dale, a name it has received from 
 the circumstance of the Dove pouring its waters 
 through the valley. Here a change of scenery in- 
 stantly took place, and rocks abrupt and vast, their 
 grey sides harmonized by mosses, lichens, and 
 yew-trees, and their tops sprinkled with mountain 
 ash-trees, rose on each side of us, instead of the
 
 [ 133 ] 
 
 steep slopes through which for some time we had 
 been pursuing our walk. A deep and narrow 
 valley lay now before us, into whose recesses 
 our eye was prevented from penetrating, by 
 the winding course it pursues, and the shutting in 
 of its precipices, which fold into each other, and 
 preclude all distant view. Through this magic 
 feature of country the river Dove leads his stream, 
 murmuring innocently and agreeably over his stony 
 bed in the halcyon days of summer, but swelling 
 into rage during the winter months; making the 
 hills and rocks which form his prison rebellow to 
 his roar, shaking the adjoining country with the 
 thunder of his course, and overturning the labours 
 of the husbandmen in the vale below. 
 
 But we had seen only the tamest feature of 
 Dove-Dale; as we proceeded, the scenery gra- 
 dually increased in majesty and rudeness. Now 
 the rocks to the right hand forced themselves into 
 the clouds, their scathed and uncovered heads 
 beetling over the narrow path that wound through 
 the dark recesses of the dale; on the opposite side, 
 grand isolated masses, ornamented with ivy net- 
 work, shot out occasionally from the shrubby 
 declivity; whilst in front the precipices, approach- 
 ing each other, appeared to preclude all further 
 progress. Proceeding nearly a mile, the walk per-
 
 [ 134 ] 
 
 petually diversified by new fantastic forms and 
 uncouth combinations of rock on all sides, we 
 reached a spot in the precipice to the right, called 
 Reynard's-Hole. This consists of two parts; a 
 vast mural mass of rock, extending along the 
 face of the precipice, but perfectly detached from 
 it, and perforated by nature into a grand arch, 
 nearly approaching to the shape of the sharply- 
 pointed Gothick, forty feet high, and nineteen 
 wide; and a natural cavern scooped in the body of 
 the rock within the wall, discovered through the 
 arch by the light thrown in from the chasm of se- 
 paration above. Passing through this arch, and 
 scrambling up a steep path, we reached a smaller 
 cavern to the left, which we had not seen before, 
 and only remarkable for the pleasing view it pre- 
 sents from within of the upper part of the Dale, 
 its river, and rocks. The superior cavern, or Rey- 
 nard's-Hole, is fifteen feet high, and about forty 
 long. From the mouth, the scene is singular, 
 beautiful, and impressive. The face of rock we 
 have described rises immediately in front, and 
 would effectually prevent the eye from ranging be- 
 yond its mighty barrier, did not its centre open 
 into the above-mentioned arch, through which is 
 seen a small part of the opposite side of the Dale, 
 a mass of gloomy wood, from whose shade a huge
 
 C 135 ] 
 
 detached rock, solitary, craggy, and pointed, starts 
 out to a great height, and forms an object, truly 
 sublime; which is pleasingly contrasted by the little 
 pastoral river, and its verdant turfy bank below. 
 The approach to this natural excavation is so d'ffi- 
 cult, even on foot, that we were not at all surprised 
 by the account of an accident, given us by our guide, 
 which occurred a few years back to Mr. Langton, 
 dean of Clogher, and Miss Laroche, who madly 
 rode up the acclivity on the same horse. The poor 
 animal, unable to perform the unconscionable task 
 imposed upon him, fell under his burthen, and 
 rolled down the steep. The Dean paid the penalty 
 of his rashness with his life; the young lady with 
 difficulty recovered from her bruises ; but the un- 
 offending horse, who had been forced unwillingly 
 to the attempt, was not injured by the accident. 
 
 As we proceeded on our walk, the Dale became 
 narrower, admitting only a foot-path between the 
 river and the rock, which now rose more abruptly 
 on either side, and threw itself into shapes more wild 
 and singular; but softened and diversified with 
 mosses and lichens, shrubs and brush-wood. This 
 scenery continued to the northern termination, 
 where two vast rocks, rising sublimely to the right 
 and left of the brook, form the jaws or portals of 
 this wonderful valley, which now drops at once the
 
 [ 136 ] 
 
 grand and picturesque, its bottom gradually widen- 
 ing into an undulating flat, and its rocks sinking 
 into round stony hills. Returning to the other 
 extremity of the vale by the same path, (for the 
 western side of the brook is impassable) we took 
 a winding of the Dove to the right, and followed 
 the road to Islam, a small ancient village one mile 
 from the Dale; situated upon the united rivers 
 Manifold and Hamps, which join their streams in 
 the pleasure-grounds of Mr. Port. This is an old 
 hall, as all the manor-houses are appropriately 
 called in this part of England, the translation or 
 corruption of the Norman aula, or seat of the lord; 
 and stands on the confines of Staffordshire and 
 Derbyshire. The view from it is extremely plea- 
 sing the little ancient church of the village in the 
 foreground of a broad rich valley, backed by dark 
 mountains; but it was to the walks near the house 
 that our attention had been directed. Of these, 
 the principal one takes the right hand bank of the 
 river, and creeps under a beetling rock crowned 
 with trees, which is opposed on the other side 
 of this deep narrow valley by a sublime mass of 
 shade, covering the face of a vast declivity. 
 
 Proceeding one hundred yards from the house, 
 we reached a little rude wooden bridge thrown 
 over an abyss in the rock, out of which boils up,
 
 [ 137 ] 
 
 with surprising force, the river Manifold, after ha- 
 ving pursued a subterraneous course for five miles 
 from the point where it ingulphs itself in the earth, 
 called Weston mill. At the distance of twenty- 
 yards further, a similar phcenomenon occurs; for 
 here we discovered another fissure in the rock, 
 from whence the river Hamps threw his waters into 
 day. He had taken a longer journey under ground 
 than even his neighbour, having travelled, in this 
 darkling manner from Leek Water-Houses ', a place 
 half-way between Lichfield and Ashbourne, seven 
 miles from Islam. On their emersion into light, 
 the temperature of the two rivers differs two and a 
 half degrees, the Hamps being thus much colder 
 than the Manifold. Ascending a flight of stone 
 steps, we were conducted to a higher walk, which 
 pursues a zig-zag course through the wood that 
 covers the face of the rock, and overhangs the 
 river, whose banks we have just quitted. In this 
 solemn abstracted scene, safe from the intrusion of 
 the busy croud, and secure from every ungrateful 
 sound, lulled to peace by the murmur of the river 
 that flowed beneath him, and the sacred whisper 
 of the wood which waved above his head, Con- 
 greve, in a little grotto, (his favourite and accus- 
 tomed retreat) wrote his comedy called the " Old 
 Bachelor." Indeed it seems to be the very spot
 
 [ 138 ] 
 
 for composition; and if the poet's metaphorical 
 language had ever been exemplified in reality, if 
 ever the a&ual personification of an abstract idea 
 could take place, here, amid the shades of Con- 
 greve's walk, we might expect to perceive " in- 
 spiration breathe around." 
 
 From this sequestered scene we wound down 
 the face of the rock, and gently dropped into the 
 lime-tree walk, so called from the friendly shade 
 which it receives from a noble row of these trees. 
 A semi-circular meadow spreads itself to the left, 
 bounded by the magnificent wooded bank before- 
 mentioned, which here forms itself into an august 
 amphitheatre. A seat .in this meadow commands 
 the most beautiful view the grounds afford; em- 
 bracing a rich and picturesque home scene, termi- 
 nated by the mountain Thorp-Cloud, which lifts its 
 very singular form in the centre of the distance. 
 
 Curiosity led us into the church, where we 
 found some ancient monuments of the Cromwell 
 family; but two of still greater antiquity attracted 
 attention in the church-yard, which, from the 
 Runic knots and other Scandinavian ornaments 
 carved on their faces, we supposed to be Danish, 
 and attributed to the i oth century. 
 
 The intricacy of the road from the Dog and 
 Partridge to Matlock rendered it prudent to take
 
 [ 139 ] 
 
 a guide from the former place, who conduced us 
 through Tissington, (remarkable for the ancient 
 family seat of the Fitzherberts', now Lords St. 
 Helens, who have resided there since the end of 
 the fourteenth century) Bradburn, and Hop- 
 ton a village planted in the bottom of a deep val- 
 ley, embowered in wood, and guarded by lofty 
 grey rocks, under whose projecting heads the cot- 
 tagers have built their little crouching dwellings. 
 Here the rage of alteration has just destroyed a 
 fine old mansion-house, the ancient residence of 
 the Gell family, (which planted itself here in the 
 reign of Elizabeth) whose descendant is the pre- 
 sent lord of the manor, and occupier of the house 
 now erecting on the scite of its predecessor. By 
 this gentleman, the new road to Matlock , from 
 Hopton has been made, and quaintly christened 
 the Via Gellia; an affectation, however, that may 
 be pardoned, as it contributes much to the enjoy- 
 ment and comfort of the traveller, conducting him 
 through a shorter, more agreeable, and convenient 
 road than the former one. 
 
 Having again reached the turnpike, we wound 
 down a gradual descent of two miles, through a 
 narrow vale of peculiar scenery; grand sweeps 
 of wooded hills on each side, and a river leading 
 its babbling waters to the right of the road. \J
 
 C i4o ] 
 
 the bottom of this descent lies Crumford, a village 
 containing about one hundred and fifty houses; 
 full of natural beauty, and enlivened by the busy 
 hum of human labour, carried on in mills, smelt- 
 ing-houses, cotton-manufactories, &c. Here the 
 late Sir Richard Arkwright first established those 
 wonderful machines which manufacture the cotton, 
 from the raw state in which it is imported, to the 
 finest thread; and not only produce an article far 
 superior to that made by the former process, but 
 perform all their operations with a tenth part of 
 the hands which were before employed for the 
 same purpose. This very animated and interesting 
 picture continued to the narrow pass into the vale of 
 Matlock, hewn by Sir Richard Arkwright through 
 the mountain that forms the western barrier of 
 this enchanting spot. 
 
 Here a scene burst upon us at once, impossible 
 to be described too extensive to be called pictu- 
 resque, too diversified to be sublime, and too 
 stupendous to be beautiful; but at the same time 
 blending together all the constituent principles of 
 these different qualities. Through the middle of 
 this valley flowed the Derwent, partially discovered 
 amid the trees which adorn its banks; before us, 
 on the eastern side of the river, stood the elegant 
 stone mansion of Sir Richard Arkwright, backed
 
 [ 141 ] 
 
 by the rising grounds of his park; to the right lay 
 a broad vale, with the picturesque concomitants of 
 a village, a church, and a stone bridge bestriding 
 the Derwent. Whilst the huge mural banks of 
 Matlock vale stretched themselves to the left, the 
 white face of the rocks which compose them occa- 
 sionally shewing itself through the wooded clothing 
 of their sides and head; this magnificent scenery 
 contrasted singularly by the vast manufactories and 
 elegant lodging-houses in the bottom of the vale. 
 But to see this magic spot to the greatest advan- 
 tage, (which runs nearly north and south for two 
 miles) the entree into it should be made from the 
 Chesterfield road, at the northern extremity, where 
 its beauties would succeed each other in proper gra- 
 dation; increasing, as we follow the valley, in gran- 
 deur and effect. Making our approach this way, we 
 should first be surprised with a vast abrupt wall of 
 limestone rock, lifting itself before us, whose awful 
 head is shaded by yew-trees, elms, and limes, from 
 the recesses of which the humble church of Matlock 
 shews its turrets. 
 
 As we proceed, the features of the Vale assume 
 still more majesty, the left-hand side forming 
 itself into rocky crags, which beetle over the 
 Derwent, who flows in solemn silence at its feet. 
 The screen to the right is formed by steep mea-
 
 [ 142 ] 
 
 dows surmounted by naked downs. In front we 
 have a mountainous bank, at whose roots is the 
 lodging-house called the Temple, a few other re- 
 sidences, and the Hotel. Following the road, we 
 arrive at the platform before the latter house, 
 where the Derwent loses his peaceful character, 
 and becomes a brawling brook ; a small cascade is 
 seen falling down the bank before us; and on 
 turning we discover a grand face of white rock 
 richly netted with ivy, and decorated with shrubs. 
 A path here occurs to the right, leading up to the 
 Temple, and discloses a wide view of this wonderful 
 valley. But willing to analyze its beauties, we 
 decline this general developement of them, and pro- 
 ceed along the lower road, which carrying us by 
 the Old Bath, another house of public reception, 
 we reach a new and most pleasing point of view. 
 Here the river recedes in a curve from the road, 
 forming a little meadow as a foreground to the 
 picture. This is finely opposed and backed by a 
 line of rock and wood, a mass of trees rising to the 
 right, and shutting out for a short time all other 
 features of the scenery; amongst which we lose 
 the stream, whose murmurs are heard, though 
 itself be invisible. A broader face of white rock 
 quickly discovers itself; and the road, ascending to 
 Saxton's Bath, affords not only an indescribably
 
 C iis 3 
 
 fine prospeft of the track we have passed, but 
 opens another still superior before us a reach of 
 alternating rock and wood, nearly half a mile in 
 length, contrasted to the right by desart downs 
 scarred with crags. 
 
 Following the road, which now gently drops 
 down to the turnpike-gate, the scene grows upon 
 us, varying its features and increasing in extent; 
 adding to the inartificial beauties of nature an 
 interesting picture of animated industry, the great 
 cotton-mill of Sir Richard Arkwright, employing 
 three hundred people in the manufacture of thread; 
 whose operations are so elegantly described by Dr. 
 Darwin, in a work which discovers the art, hi- 
 therto unknown, of cloathing in poetical language, 
 and decorating with beautiful imagery, the unpo- 
 etical operations of mechanical processes, and the 
 dry detail of manufactures: 
 
 fC So now, where Derwent guides his dusky floods, . 
 Through vaulted mountains, and a night of woods, 
 The nymph Gossypia treads the velvet sod, 
 And warms with rosy smiles the wat'ry god; 
 His pondrous oars to slender spindles turns, 
 And pours o'er massy wheels his foaming urns; 
 With playful charms her hoary lover wins, 
 And wheels his trident while the monarch spins; 
 First with nice eye emerging Naiads cull 
 From leathery pods the vegetable wool ; 
 With wiry teeth revolving cards release 
 The tangled knots, and smooth the ravell'd fleece;
 
 [ 144 ] 
 
 Next moves the iron band with fingers fine, 
 
 Combs the wide card, and forms th' eternal line; 
 
 Slow with soft lips the whirling can acquires 
 
 The tender skeins, and wraps in rising spires ; 
 
 With quicken'd pace successive rollers move, 
 
 And these retain, and those extend, the rove. 
 
 Then fly thespoles, the rapid axles glow; 
 
 While slowly circumvolves the lab'ring wheel below." 
 
 The building has one hundred and twenty windows 
 in front, and is full of the improved machinery for 
 making cotton thread, all of which is moved by two 
 master-wheels. The weavers of Manchester and 
 Nottingham take almost all the produce of the 
 work. Adjoining to this, and adding to the bustle 
 of the scene in this part of the vale, is a paper ma- 
 nufactory, belonging to Sir Richard Arkwright, 
 employing about thirty people in making the brown, 
 blue, and writing paper. Old ropes cut into small 
 pieces, untwisted, and ground, form the material of 
 which the first article is made; coarse cotton and 
 white rags are used for the second. Here it is 
 manufactured, pressed, separated, sized, dried, and 
 packed; and the process is so rapidly performed, 
 tliat two men can make ten reams in a day. 
 
 The pleasure-grounds of Sir Richard Arkwright 
 now open to the left, round which the Derwcnt 
 leads his waters in a grand sweep; the land assu- 
 ming a different character from the precipitous form
 
 [ 145 ] 
 
 it has for some time worn, and swelling gradually 
 from the stream. Towards the summit of this rise 
 stands the house we have before mentioned ; a noble 
 castellated building, in front of which a bold per- 
 pendicular face of white rock appears, and the 
 gaping rent which affords entrance into the Dale 
 from the south. The grand features of the valley 
 disappear at this point; and soft landscape scenery, 
 the village and churchy the bridge and meadows, 
 close the picture. 
 
 The opposite side of the river to that on which 
 we have been strolling, has also its delightful 
 walks; but being private, on the demesne of Sir 
 Richard Arkwright, they can only be visited on 
 Thursdays and Mondays. I do not, however, think 
 the singular beauties of the place are caught in such 
 good order, or to so much advantage, as on the 
 western bank of the river; since those magnificent 
 features the eastern rock, its precipices, and under- 
 wood, are in a great measure lost to the eye. 
 
 Many visitors are of course attracted to the re- 
 cesses of Matlock, by the extraordinary grandeur 
 of its scenery; and many also come to its baths 
 and medicinal springs in search of health. Of 
 these there are four; one at Saxtons, two at the 
 Old-Baths, and one at the Hotel; their tempera- 
 ture slightly differing from sixty-eight to seventy-
 
 [ 146 ] 
 
 two degrees. At the three houses above-men- 
 tioned accommodations are very good, and the 
 terms as follow: a bedchamber per week 5s. a 
 private parlour il. is. breakfast is. 3d. per head; 
 public dinner 38. per head; supper is. For the 
 large common sitting and dining room no extra 
 charge is made. The bathing is 6d. each time. 
 
 The warm springs were discovered in the year 
 1698; but it is only of late years that much 
 company has resorted to the place, for the taste 
 for natural scenery is of recent growth, and the 
 larger number of visitors have since that time 
 consisted of the admirers of its beauties rather than 
 the drinkers of its waters, which are esteemed 
 somewhat similar to the Bristol waters, and used 
 in diabetes, spitting of blood, &c. These have no 
 sensible appearance of mineral impregnation, nor 
 have their analysis afforded any thing remarkable, 
 the residuum being chiefly calcareous earth, with 
 which all the water around here is highly charged. 
 One spring behind the new bath is called, from 
 this circumstance, the petrifying well; having the 
 property of incrusting in a short time any sub- 
 stances exposed to its action, with calcareous 
 matter. Indeed, the centre of the valley affords a 
 curious phenomenon of this nature, in a vast bed 
 of tupbum, or petrified moss, as it is vulgarly
 
 [ 147 ] 
 
 called ; a stratum of calcareous incrustation twenty- 
 feet in thickness, and extending three hundred 
 yards in every dire&ion. It seems to have had its 
 formation from water which had passed through 
 limestone, and thus become replete with earth ; and 
 had then formed itself upon a morass, or colle&ion 
 of moss, shrubs, and small trees, which having 
 incrusted, the vegetable matter gradually decom- 
 posed, and left nothing but the stony envelopement. 
 It first appears at the bottom of the hill to the west, 
 dips rapidly to the east, and is lost in the bed of 
 the river. Under it we find a common clay soil. 
 
 The village of Matlock lies a mile to the north 
 of the baths, but has none of those romantic fea- 
 tures around it, which characterize the happy valley 
 we have been describing. All picturesque beauty, 
 indeed, now disappears, and the dark sterile hills of 
 Derbyshire present themselves ; amongst which, in 
 a quiet bottom, watered by the Derwent, is the 
 little village of Darley. The parsonage-house, 
 belonging to the Rev. Mr. Wray, makes an agree- 
 able objeft from the road, at the side of which it 
 stands; and the church rises pleasingly from the 
 eastern bank of the Derwent. It contains some 
 old monuments; and a very ancient stone coffin is 
 seen in the church-yard, probably connected with 
 the monastery removed to this place from Derby 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 [ 148 ] 
 
 in the reign of Henry II. founded by Robert 
 Ferrars second earl of Derby. A remarkable yew- 
 tree also grows in the cemetery, robbed of a great 
 part of its pristine honours, but still exhibiting a 
 specimen of unusual vegetation, and measuring in 
 girth thirty-three feet. 
 
 The broad valley through which the road runs 
 to Chatsworth affords some good flat landscapes, 
 regarded, perhaps, with the greater pleasure, from 
 the contrast produced by the naked hills that hedge 
 them in on every "side; this circumstance gives ad- 
 ditional interest also to the approach of the Duke's 
 seat through the park; on entering which, a long 
 reach of the Derwent, (whose banks art has both 
 extended and adorned) a cascade made by the 
 whole river throwing itself down a descent of ten 
 or twelve feet, and a partial view of the house, 
 seated at the foot of a hill, (a grand mass of wood) 
 surrounded by mountains deformed with crags, are 
 all unfolded to the eye at once. Pursuing the 
 road for a mile, we dropped into the village of 
 Chatsworth, (which stands a little without the 
 park) where a noble inn, built for the reception of 
 visitors, offered its accommodations. 
 
 Crossing the Derwent over an elegant bridge of 
 three arches, we reached the northern entrance of 
 the mansion, which was built by the last Earl of
 
 [ 149 ] 
 
 Devonshire a few years before the Revolution, on 
 the scite of an older edifice possessed and inhabited 
 by the Cavendishes one hundred and fifty years, 
 previous to that time. It certainly may be consi- 
 dered as a noble specimen of that highly decorated 
 style of building imported from Italy about one 
 hundred and twenty years ago, and so much in 
 vogue in this country for half a century magni- 
 ficent, but heavy; expensive, but devoid of taste. 
 The fabrick is exactly square, each side measuring 
 one hundred and ninety-one feet; and having a 
 noble quadrangle in the centre, the fronts of which 
 are superbly ornamented with masonry representing 
 military trophies. The south front also is in the 
 same grand style, with a quaint motto inscribed 
 upon its pediment, punning upon the family 
 name; " Cavendo tutus" ^ This opens upon the 
 park, a range of well-planted ground nine miles 
 in circumference. The famous cascade, one of 
 those grand water-works which fifty years ago 
 rendered Chatsworth the greatest wonder of 
 Derbyshire, lies to the east of the house, and is 
 commanded by the windows of the grand apart- 
 ments. It consists of a series of flights or stages 
 of steps, one hundred and fifty feet from one end to 
 the other; crowned at the top by a temple, the 
 reservoir whence the *ater is made to play. This
 
 [ 150 ] 
 
 fane should certainly be dedicated to Mercury, the 
 god of fraud and deceit, as a piece of roguery is 
 practised upon the incautious stranger within its 
 very sanctuary; from the floor of which a multi- 
 tude of little fountains suddenly spout up whilst 
 he is admiring the prospect through the portal, 
 and quickly wet him to the skin. After this prac- 
 tical joke, the cascade is put in motion by ano- 
 ther screw, and certainly is grand in its kind; 
 the water rushing in vast quantity and with pro- 
 digious force from the domed roof of the temple; 
 from a great variety of dolphins, dragons, and 
 other figures that ornament it; and throwing up 
 several fountains from the bottom of the pool in 
 front of the building; and then rolling down the 
 long stages of steps before described. The tree, 
 also, which squirts water from all its leaves, and 
 the fountains in the ponds that throw the element 
 up to the height of ninety feet, are still shewn ; 
 though the correct taste of the day considers them 
 only as expensive puerilit 
 
 Heaviness and gloom characterize the inside as 
 well as the exterior of Chats worth-House. The 
 Entrance-Hall is grand, but dark; the ends, ceil- 
 ing, and one side, finely painted by Lewis La 
 Guerre, in 1 694, with a representation of the As- 
 sembly of the Gods; Julius Cxsar sacrificing; and
 
 [ i5i 3 
 
 his assassination at the foot of Pompey's statue. 
 Two sweeping flights of steps and a long gallery 
 lead to the chapel, ornamented with the exquisite 
 carving of Gibbons, (who was killed by a fall in the 
 acl: of fixing it up) and painted by La Guerre, 
 whose powers are displayed in the altar-piece i 
 Christ reproving Thomas's incredulity; supported 
 on one side by the miracle of the Paralytic restored 
 by our Saviour's simple command, ' Take up thy 
 ' bed, and walk;' and on the other by the repre- 
 sentation of a similar exertion of power divine. A 
 painting of the Ascension covers the cieling. 
 
 In the Music-Room, we have the present Duchess 
 of Devonshire, and her daughter Lady Georgiana, 
 married to Lord Morpeth; by Sir J. Reynolds. 
 
 In the Drawing- Room .is a whole length of 
 William Duke of Cumberland; and'a most expensive 
 article of furniture, an immense silver chandelier. 
 
 In the Dining-Room is a fine whole-length, by 
 Sir G. Kneller, of 'William first Duke of 'Devonshire \ 
 who was distinguished as a wit, a scholar, a sol- 
 dier, and a gentleman. His name occurs in early 
 life as Lord Cavendish, member for the county of 
 Derby; when his political conduft evinced those 
 true patriotic principles which he afterwards so 
 eminently displayed in assisting to bring about the 
 glorious Revolution, and persuading the gentry of
 
 [ 152 ] 
 
 Derbyshire and Nottinghamshire to transfer to 
 King William that allegiance and affe&ion to which 
 James had forfeited all claims. He was the inse- 
 parable friend of the amiable Lord Russel, and 
 offered to change clothes with him in prison, and 
 thus contrive his escape; an attempt so desperate 
 must have proved fatal to one, if not both these 
 noble characters, and was therefore declined by 
 Lord Russel. Such was his gallantry, and so warm 
 his friendship, that when Koningsmark wa.s ac- 
 quitted on the charge of plotting the murder of 
 Mr. Thynne, he challenged him to prove his inno- 
 cence by single combat. Having been insulted by 
 a Colonel Culpepper, he scrupled not to take him 
 by the nose before the King, and remove him from 
 the presence-chamber; for winch he was fined 
 thirty thousand pounds, and committed to the 
 King's-Bench prison, whence he effected his 
 escape to his estate in Derbyshire, and employed 
 himself in rebuilding his seat at Chats worth; pa- 
 tiently awaiting the overthrow of a system of 
 Popery and tyranny, which was daily becoming 
 more oppressive and intolerable. On the accession 
 of William, the fine was voted excessive and exor- 
 bitant, and the imprisonment illegal: he was admit- 
 ted of the- privy council, appointed lord-steward of 
 the houshold, and knight of the Garter, with other
 
 [ J5S ] 
 
 honours, and created Duke of Devonshire 1694. 
 He died 1707, when this inscription was put on 
 his monument: 
 
 "WILLIELMUS DUX DEVON, bonorum Principum 
 fidelis subditus, inimicus et invisus tyrannis." 
 
 The Ball-Room is singularly magnificent; green 
 and gold ornaments, and painted pannels, fitted up 
 Joubert. The ceiling of the Billiard-Room is 
 painted by Thornhill. The Dressing-Room to the 
 best Bedchamber has the Duchess's small but beau- 
 tiful collection of spars and fossils; amongst the 
 latter of which we remarked a superlatively fine 
 and perfect cast of the maize, or Indian corn. In 
 the Chintz Bedchamber, a portrait of Rachael second 
 Duchess of Devonshire, the daughter of William 
 Lord Russel, and her four children, three girls 
 and a boy; and two nameless portraits. In the 
 adjoining closet, an Earl of Devonshire in the cos- 
 tume of the sixteenth century. In the dressing- 
 room to the State Bedchamber is a good Sleeping 
 Shepherd, by Gennaro; and the Flight into Egypt , 
 by Hannibal Carracci. 
 
 The first Drawing-Room contains John first Duke 
 of Rutland-, obiit 17 10, aetat. 72. William first 
 Earl of Devonshire; ob. 1625. This picture is 
 ascribed to My tens, but considered by Mr. WaU
 
 [ 154 ] 
 
 pole to be by Van Somer, though equal to Vandyck, 
 and one of the finest single figures ever painted on 
 canvas. Two fine whole-lengths, said to be two 
 Earls of Pembroke-, pointed beards, whiskers, Van- 
 dycked sleeves, and slashed hose. An Earl of 
 Devonshire in his robes, costume of the seventeenth 
 century. Duke of Ormond. 
 
 Amongst the furniture in the Second Drawing- 
 Room are the two coronation chairs of the present 
 King and Queen; perquisites to the late Duke of 
 Devonshire, who was then lord-chamberlain. 
 
 In the Leicester-Room is an invaluable work of 
 Holbein, Henry VII. and Henry VIII. in one pic- 
 ture. It is in black chalks, heightened, and large 
 as life. Our Saviour and Mary Magdalen in the 
 Garden, by Titian. No grace in the figures, but a 
 sweet expression in the face of Mary. 
 
 The Scarlet-Room holds the bed in which George 
 the Second died; another perquisite of the office 
 of the late Duke. 
 
 Adjoining to this is an apartment called Mary's 
 Room, from the bed in it (crimson velvet and gold) 
 and chairs having been those which Mary Queen 
 of Scots, (the beautiful, indiscreet, and unfortunate) 
 used during her long confinement of nineteen years 
 in the old house at Chatsworth. From hence she 
 .wrote a letter to Pope Pius, dated Oct. 31,1 570.
 
 [ 155 ] 
 
 Soon after quitting Chatsworth, we crossed the 
 Derwent, and entered upon a country still more 
 wild and uninteresting than that we had already- 
 passed. A large cotton-mill to the right pointed 
 out the nature of the manufactories of the district. 
 Stoney-Middleton, a small town chiefly inhabited 
 by limestone-workers and lead-miners, offers no- 
 thing remarkable, but its modern o&agon church 
 attached to an old square Gothic tower; and we 
 pursued our road through this forlorn country to 
 Middleton-Dale, reputed one of the wonders of 
 Derbyshire, but undeserving this distinction, from a 
 total absence both of beauty and sublimity. Rocks, 
 unadorned with trees or other verdant covering, 
 exclude the picturesque; whilst their clumsy heavy 
 round forms preclude the idea of grandeur. A lively 
 fancy may indeed paint to itself something resem- 
 bling castellated buildings or rude fortresses in the 
 perpendicular crags, which rise to the height ' of 
 four hundred feet in some places; and the turnings 
 of the Dale are so sharp, as occasionally to give the 
 idea of all further progress being prevented by the 
 opposition of an insurmountable barrier of precipi- 
 tous rock. Its charafter, therefore, is rather sin- 
 gularity, than magnificence or loveliness. 
 
 Six miles beyond this place is Tides well, a mi- 
 serable market-town, planted in a bottom, which
 
 C 156 ] 
 
 is surrounded on all sides by hills barren, desolate, 
 and horrid. It receives its name from a small well 
 near the town, in the centre of an arable field, 
 which is said to ebb and flow in the same manner 
 as the ocean-tide, but not at the same time; its flux 
 and reflux being periodical, the flood at three 
 o'clock every day, and the ebb at nine. This 
 routine, however, is subject to some little variation 
 at the full and renewal of the moon. 
 
 Our route to Buxton, seven miles from Tides- 
 well, led us up and down most tremendous hills, 
 but over a road hard as adamant, and smooth as a 
 bowling-green. All before us appeared the most 
 forlorn nakedness; and had we not observed some 
 marks of human industry in the stone divisions of 
 the fields, we should have conceived that the coun- 
 try round was one " wide extent of hopeless ste- 
 rility." But land lets here for ten shillings an 
 acre, and might be made more valuable, if the 
 system of husbandry, which is that of paring and 
 turning, had not a direct tendency to make the 
 miserable soil still more wretched and unproductive. 
 Long before we approached Buxton, the scite of 
 the town was pointed out to us by the singular 
 appearance of the hill beyond it, whose declivity is 
 scarred by innumerable limestone quarries; the 
 rubbish from which being white, contrast strikingly
 
 [ 157 ] 
 
 with the black heath around, and produce a most sin- 
 gular effeft. It was not, however, till we had nearly 
 reached the place, that we discovered it; as it lies 
 in a broad hollow, with hills swelling out to a great 
 height on every quarter of it. From the summit 
 of that down which the road descends to the town, 
 we had Buxton spread beneath us like a map; a 
 straggling place, consisting of inns and shops for 
 the accommodation of the company, with the ele- 
 gant addition (made a few years since by the present 
 Duke of Devonshire, at the enormous expence of 
 i2o,oool.) of a noble crescent, and a grand series 
 of stables behind it. This building is of stone dug 
 on the spot, and faced with fine free-stone from a 
 quarry one mile and a half from Buxton, on the 
 Disley road. It consists of three stories, the lowest 
 rustic, forming a beautiful arcade or piazza, as a 
 shelter from the sun and heat; within which are 
 shops. Ionic pilasters form the divisions between 
 the windows above, and support an elegant balus- 
 trade that surmounts the front. In the centre of 
 this is the Devonshire arms in stone topped with a 
 pair of natural stag's antlers. This decoration 
 gave occasion to the whimsical reproof of an hypo- 
 critical taylor some years ago, who, neglecting the 
 admonition of Apelles, " Nesutor ultra crepidam," 
 committed a mistake somewhat similar to the man
 
 C 158 ] 
 
 recorded by iEsop for abusing the squeaking of the 
 real pig instead of the imitation of the mimic, by 
 declaring that every part of this masonry was well 
 executed, except the horns. Each extremity of the 
 crescent contains an hotel, and that to the right 
 on approaching the building has the ball-room 
 one of the best-proportioned and most elegant 
 apartments in the kingdom; lighted curiously by 
 small semicircular windows just above the large 
 proje&ing cornice, which prevents them from being 
 seen, and gives the effect without an apparent 
 cause. In front of this building is a fine rising 
 lawn, planted with trees, and kept carefully shorn 
 and cleaned. Behind it are the stables, (faced 
 like the Crescent, with freestone) of a square form 
 without, but having a circular area within, sixty 
 yards in diameter. A gallery surrounds this, sup- 
 ported by columns, through which are the en- 
 trances into the stables. On one side is a grand 
 colonnade for a remise. Exclusive of the two 
 hotels in the Crescent, are several other lodging- 
 houses; the Old Hall, the Eagle inn, &c. at all 
 which the terms during the season are as follow: 
 Breakfast is. 6d. dinner at ordinary 2s. 6d. tea is. 
 and supper is. 6d. A single bed-room is ios. 6d. 
 per week; a double ditto 14S. and a sitting-room, 
 according to quality, from 14s. to 16s. per week.
 
 [ 159 ] 
 
 The public baths each time i s. private ditto 3$. 
 There are three assemblies every week; Monday 
 and Friday undress, and Wednesday dress ball; 
 these conclude at eleven o'clock. The theatre is 
 open on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. 
 All these gaieties commence in June, and conclude 
 in November. 
 
 It is not necessary for me to inform you, that 
 Buxton was known to the Romans, and its tepid 
 springs used by that people, with whom warm- 
 bathing was not only a pleasurable but a necessary 
 practice. The recent use of them seems to have 
 originated in Queen Elizabeth's time, when Dr. 
 Jones gave them popularity by his account and 
 recommendation of them. Since that time they 
 have been greatly frequented, and are now during 
 the summer season constantly crouded. The water 
 is usually drunk at St. Ann's well, (to whom it 
 was anciently consecrated) an elegant classical 
 building; to which it is conveyed from the original 
 spring by a narrow grit-stone passage, so close and 
 well contrived as to prevent it from losing any 
 portion of its heat, which stands at 81^ of Faren- 
 heit, both at the spring and on issuing into day. 
 Its taste is agreeable; its appearance sparkling; 
 and its quality heating. Gout, nephritis, bile, 
 and debility of stomach and intestines, is generally
 
 [ 160 ] 
 
 removed or ameliorated by the use of this water. 
 The baths are powerfully efficacious in chronic 
 rheumatism. The springs are numerous, issuing 
 from rents in the black lime-stone rock, which 
 s the uppermost stratum on the south of the 
 Wye; they are found, by analysis, to be impreg- 
 nated with sea salt, calcareous earth, selenite, and 
 acidulous gas. 
 
 Our curiosity led us to Poole's-Hole, one mile 
 from Buxton, a vast cavern formed by nature in 
 the lime-stone rock to the eastward of the town, at 
 the foot of the lime-pits above-mentioned. It be- 
 longs to the Duke of Devonshire, and is kindly 
 granted by him to nine old women, resembling the 
 Muses indeed in number, but hardly approaching 
 to the appearance of the female race in any thing 
 else; dried with age, and as rugged as the rocks 
 amongst which they dwell. But though living, 
 like the Troglodytes of old, in caverns of the earth, 
 (for their dwellings are not of an higher order) 
 and exposed to the variations of the seasons and the 
 ragings of the storm, they exhibit a longevity un- 
 known to the population of the more civilized parts 
 of the kingdom. One of the old ladies, (for there 
 were ten of them) to whose profit the Duke has 
 dedicated Poole's-Hole, died last year at the age 
 of ninety-two. Nor was this considered as a rare
 
 t 161 ] 
 
 Instance of protracted life. Nothing grand or pic- 
 turesque marks the entrance into this cavern; and 
 we agreed that the interior was by no means so 
 fine as that of Wookey-Hole in Somersetshire.* 
 Proceeding about twenty-five yards in a stooping 
 posture, the rock opens into a spacious vacuity, 
 from whose roof depends a quantity of statlatite, 
 produced by the droppings of water, laden with 
 calcareous matter. Part of this substance adheres 
 to the roof, and forms gradually those pendent 
 spiral masses called water -ides or stalactites; ano- 
 ther portion drops with the water to the ground, 
 and attaching itself to the floor is there deposited, 
 and becomes the stalagmite, a lumpy mass of the 
 same matter. One of the former, of immense size, 
 called the flitch of bacon, occurs about the middle 
 of the cavern, which here becomes very narrow, 
 but after a short time spreads again to a greater 
 width, and continues large and lofty, till we reach 
 another surprisingly large mass of stalactite, to 
 which the name of Mary Queen of Scots' pillar is 
 attached, from the tradition of that queen having 
 paid a visit to the cavern, and advanced thus far into 
 its recesses. Beyond this all is terra incognita; 
 or at least a country from whose bourne very few 
 
 fide Walk through the Western Counties."
 
 C 1&2 ] 
 
 travellers return, as very few tempt its dangers $ 
 we, therefore, were content to follow the example 
 of the majority, and to seek again the mouth of 
 the cavern, ' by a lower road, which pursued its 
 darkling track under the rock we had been walk- 
 ing upon. Once more we beheld the light of the 
 sun, after having penetrated one thousand six hun- 
 dred feet into the bowels of the mountain. 
 
 Quitting Buxton we directed our course to Cas- 
 tleton, intending to include Elden-Hole, another 
 subterraneous wonder of this cavernous country, 
 in our ride. For this purpose we took the Tides- 
 well road for four miles, and then sharply turning 
 to the left found ourselves in that which leads to 
 Castleton. At a small cottage, two miles from this 
 point, lives the guide who rents the property on 
 which Elden-Hole lies, a part of Peak forest. 
 Climbing idong the hill, we at length reached this 
 tremendous fissure; a yawning chasm in the earth, 
 about thirty yards long from the north-west to the 
 south-east, and ten yards wide in an opposite di- 
 rection. As it descends, the dimensions are gra- 
 dually contracted, till, at the depth of thirty yards, 
 the space from side to side is not more than three 
 or four yards; but here suddenly enlarging its li- 
 mits, the gulph stretches itself to the extent of an 
 acre of ground. What the profundity of Eldcn-
 
 C 163 ] 
 
 Hole may be, has never been ascertained. CottOri, 
 above a century ago, plumbed it with a line two 
 thousand six hundred and fifty-two feet in length, 
 but did not reach the bottom. More of the history 
 of its interior, however, was known about thirty- 
 five years ago, in consequence of the two horses of 
 a gentleman and lady being found without their 
 riders near the abyss. The country people imme- 
 diately imagined (and perhaps with reason) that 
 the latter had been robbed, murdered, and thrown 
 into Elden-Hole; and let down some miners into 
 it in order to search for the bodies. These bold 
 fellows descended perpendicularly about one thou- 
 sand two hundred feet, when they reached a decli- 
 vity, which continued in an angle of sixty degrees 
 for one hundred and twenty feet. At the extre- 
 mity of this, a dreadful and boundless gulph dis- 
 closed itself, whose sides and bottom were perfectly 
 invisible. Here their lights were extinguished by 
 the impurity of the air, which prevented a further 
 descent; and allowed them only to let down a line 
 one thousand feet deeper, without finding a bot- 
 tom; though, from the circumstance of its being 
 wet when drawn up, they were convinced that the 
 abyss contained a great body of water. 
 
 Two years ago the similar circumstance of a 
 man'shorse without its master being discovered near 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 [ 164 ] 
 
 Elden-Hole, induced a body of miners to under- 
 take a like expedition, but without making any- 
 additional discoveries. Indeed it is probable, no 
 further light will ever be thrown upon this place 
 of darkness, as the stagnation of the air would 
 certainly destroy any adventurer who should at- 
 tempt going below the point which the first party 
 of miners reached. It is supposed, not only by 
 the inhabitants of the country, but by geologists 
 who have visited this part of Derbyshire, that 
 Elden-Hole is connected with the great gulph at 
 Castleton, by a series of subterraneous caverns. 
 The effect of a stone thrown into the Hole is sur- 
 prisingly awful; its percussions against the sides 
 as it descends, gradually fading away upon the ear, 
 till they are at length entirely lost, convey an idea 
 of unfathomable depth, with which the imagina- 
 tion naturally connects that of danger and destruc- 
 tion. No visible change has taken place in the 
 appearance of the cavern since the memory of man. 
 Peak forest, on which Elden-Hole is found, pre- 
 sents a wide extent of naked, forlorn, and apparently 
 unprofitable country; but a considerable rental 
 arises from it, notwithstanding its appearance. The 
 land, lett at from ios. to 14s. per acre, n divided 
 into farms of 200I. or 300I. per annum, which, 
 for the most part, (with die exception of some
 
 C 15 ] 
 
 arable spots for oats) are applied to"the feeding of 
 cattle, paying is. per head per week. But the 
 lord seems to be the only person benefited by the 
 property, the poverty of which is unequal to two 
 profits; screwed up to the highest pitch of rent, 
 the miserable tenant, with all his vigilance and 
 exertion, finds himself unable to do more than pro- 
 cure the bare necessaries of life, after having paid 
 his unconscionable rent, and satisfied the demands 
 of taxation and parochial assessment. 
 
 Arrived now amongst the mountains of Derby- 
 shire, we journeyed on, with nothing to delight the 
 eye or awaken the fancy, to Castleton, which we 
 approached by a steep descent called the Winnats, 
 or Wind-gates, from the stream of air that always 
 sweeps through the chasm. This road is a mile 
 in length, and carried on in a winding direction, in 
 order to render the natural declivity of the ground 
 passable by carriages. Happy was the imagination 
 that first suggested its name, the gates or portals of 
 the winds; since, wild as these sons of the tempest 
 are, the massive rocks which Nature here presents, 
 seem to promise a barrier sufficiently strong to 
 controul their maddest fury. Precipices one thou- 
 sand feet in height, dark, rugged, and perpendicu- 
 lar, heave their unwieldy forms on each side of 
 the road, (which makes several inflexions in its de-
 
 C 166 ] 
 
 scent) and frequently presenting themselves in 
 front, threaten opposition to all further progress. 
 At one of these sudden turns to the left, a most 
 beautiful view of Castleton vale (two miles broad 
 and six in length) is unexpectedly thrown upon the 
 eye; refreshing it with a rich picture of beauty, 
 fertility, and variety, after the tedious uniformity 
 of rude and hideous scenery to which it has so 
 long been confined. Another turn to the right 
 opens the high Peak, (the perpendicular rock at 
 whose foot the famous cavern discloses itself) 
 crowned with the ruins of an ancient Saxon for- 
 tress, opposed to the left by the shivering moun- 
 tain Mam Tor, black and precipitous, and con- 
 trasted with the peaceful and luxuriant vale, which 
 spreads itself between them. 
 
 Mam Tor, which lifts itself one thousand three 
 hundred feet above the level of the valley, is com- 
 posed of shale and grit stone in alternate stratifi- 
 cation, as indeed all the mountains to the north of 
 the road are; for the lime-stone, which forms those 
 to the south, over-dips in the bottom between the 
 two ranges. Its modern popular name, the shi- 
 vering mountain, (for Mam Tor is an ancient Bri- 
 tish appellation) seems to have been imposed upon 
 it from the crumbling of the shale, which decom- 
 posing under the action of the atmosphere, the
 
 fragments are perpetually gliding down its face, 
 forming at the foot of it another lesser mountain. 
 This portion of its composition (the shale) is highly- 
 impregnated with vitriol and iron, and the grit 
 thickly studded with little particles of shining mica. 
 A Roman encampment, and a perennial spring, 
 crown the summit of this lofty precipice. 
 
 Having committed ourselves to the protection of 
 Mr. Dekin, the guide to the cavern, (to whom it 
 is lett rent-free, on the condition of its being kept 
 clean and commodious) we proceeded to its mouth. 
 It would be difficult to imagine a scene of the same 
 kind more august than was that now before us. 
 The precipices, meeting each other at nearly right 
 angles, form a deep and gloomy recess, shut in by 
 rocks compleatly perpendicular, nearly three hun- 
 dred feet in height. At the foot of that to the 
 right is seen a gulph forty-two feet high, a hundred 
 and twenty wide, and about ninety deep, formed 
 by a depressed arch of great regularity. Here a 
 singular combination is produced human habita- 
 tions and manufacturing machines (the append- 
 ages of some twine-makers, who have fixed their 
 residence within this cavern) blending with the 
 sublime features of the natural scenery. After 
 penetrating about thirty yards into the rock, the 
 roof becomes lower, and a turning to the right
 
 C 168 ] 
 
 obliged us to follow a descent for the distance of 
 one hundred and twenty feet more, to a spot where 
 the light of day disappears, and candles were put 
 into our hands to illuminate our farther progress 
 through the Stygian darkness of the cavern. A 
 wicket was now opened by Dekin, (who secures 
 the penetralia of his magnificent temple with a 
 lock and key) and a little boat appeared to carry 
 us up the stream, (for a short distance) that flows 
 through the bottom of the cave. Landed again 
 on the rock, we pursued our course, like iEneas 
 and his guide, 
 
 " Obscuri sola sub no6te per umbram, 
 " Perque domos Ditis vacuas et inania regnaj" 
 
 in silent wonder through a succession of caverns, 
 the extremity of which was lighted up with can- 
 dles, that only rendered darkness visible, since 
 their light (lost in the gloomy vacuity around) was 
 unable to reach the distant sides and lofty roof of 
 the abyss. Continuing our course beyond the 
 lights, we found ourselves in another fearful hol- 
 low, called the chancel* where our ears were sud- 
 denly surprised by the sound of vocal harmony. 
 The strains produced (which were religious) could 
 not be said to be such as " take the imprisoned 
 soul, and lap it in Elysium ;" but being unexpected;
 
 C 169 ] 
 
 issuing from a quarter where no obje& could be 
 seen; in a place where all was still as death; and 
 every thing around calculated to awaken attention, 
 and powerfully impress the imagination with solemn 
 ideas, we could not hear them without that min- 
 gled emotion of fear and pleasure, astonishment 
 and delight, which is one of the most interesting 
 feelings of the mind; and extremely favourable to 
 the encouragement of the religious principle. Af- 
 ter being entertained awhile by this invisible choir, 
 a sudden burst of light discovered the personages 
 to whom we had been obliged for our harmonical 
 treat eight or ten women and children ranged 
 along a natural gallery of the rock, thirty or forty 
 feet above the floor on which we stood, each hold- 
 ing a lighted taper in her hand. Quitting the 
 chancel, we dropped into the devil's -cellar, or half- 
 way house, through three regular semi-circular 
 arches formed by the hand of nature, and found 
 ourselves at length under a vast concavity called 
 great Tom of Lincoln, from its uniform bell-like 
 appearance. Here our subterraneous tour termi- 
 nated, at a point nearly two thousand feet from the 
 entrance; the guide, indeed, proceeded twenty-five 
 yards further, where the roof sinks into the water, 
 but as it was necessary to wade through the 
 stream, in order to reach the barrier, we contented
 
 C '70 ] 
 
 ourselves with seeing him touch its face. On bur 
 return, the eye, having had time to accommodate 
 itself to the darkness around, embraced several 
 objects; the roof, sides, and crags in many places, 
 which had before escaped it. Our entertainment 
 also was varied by a blast, as it is termed the 
 discharge of a small quantity of gunpowder thrust 
 into the rock, occasioning an explosion only- 
 to be compared to that sound which the imagina- 
 tion would conceive might be produced, if univer- 
 sal nature were at once to tumble into ruins. 
 
 As we retraced our footsteps, the guide ingeni- 
 ously threw in a few anecdotes relating to the 
 place, well calculated to interest the mind under 
 that state of astonishment to which it had been 
 excited; a good method of giving importance to 
 himself, enhancing the merit of his services, and con- 
 sequently increasing his remuneration. Amongst 
 others, we were informed, that the brook which 
 flowed through the cavern was frequently so 
 much swollen as to prevent access into the interior 
 of it; and that it had sometimes happened, par- 
 ties had been surprized by unexpected inundation, 
 and only rescued from destruction by the address 
 of the guide. Two years since some ladies who 
 had put themselves under the protection of three 
 or four military gentlemen, visited the cavern in
 
 [ 171 ] 
 
 the morning, and returned without molestation; 
 but incautiously attending to an after-dinner soli- 
 citation, when these heroes were under the influence 
 of a less considerative deity than their morning ge- 
 nius, they ventured a second time into the cavern; 
 the water rose, and had not the guide expeditiously 
 forced them out, at the expence of their being 
 drenched to the skin, they would in ten minutes 
 have been prevented by the waters from returning, 
 and confined within the bowels of the mountain for 
 a fortnight, without the possibility of a rescue by 
 any earthly power. It is to be observed, however, 
 that these inundations may generally be foreseen ; 
 so that nothing but incaution, obstinacy, or fool- 
 hardiness, can lead the visitor into so perilous a 
 situation as we have described. 
 
 Commiseration for suffering is lessened, when 
 brought on by causes that are voluntary in the 
 patient ; and we were not much affected with pity, 
 when told of a similar misfortune that had befallen 
 a certain nobleman better known than esteemed in 
 the north-western part of England, about thirty 
 years ago. This person, who was then a baronet, 
 had visited the cavern with the father of the present 
 guide, and paid him very sordidly for his trouble. 
 Dekin remonstrated, but was answered with contu- 
 mely and indignation. As no redress could be had,
 
 C 172 ] 
 
 like a prudent man, he was silent; but, manetaltd 
 mente repostum, the injury was not forgotten, and 
 a fair opportunity of revenge soon presented itself 
 to him. The baronet again came to Castleton, to 
 visit the cavern. Dekin, however, endeavoured to 
 persuade him to desist from entering it, as the 
 waters were out above, and the stream likely to 
 overflow below. But all his representations were 
 without effect ; the noble baronet would not brook 
 contradiction, and insisted on being taken in. More 
 wise than his companion, Dekin planted a man at 
 the little river over which the visitor is ferried, with 
 orders for him to discharge a pistol when lie per- 
 ceived the waters begin to rise. The duet had 
 reached the extremity of the cavern, and were now 
 returning, when the report of the pistol was heard. 
 " What is that?" exclaimed the baronet, asto- 
 nished at the reverberated sound. Dekin informed 
 him, and at the same time contrived, as if by acci- 
 dent, to extinguish the tapers in his hand. In 
 this dreadful situation, " every man for himself," 
 seemed to be the obvious rule of action ; and Dekin, 
 with many expressions of alarm, slipped from the 
 side of his companion. Nothing could now equal 
 his horror; he prayed and intreated not to be de- 
 serted in this desperate situation, and made offers 
 of the most liberal rewards, if the guide would
 
 [ 173 ] 
 
 return, and re-conduct him into day. Dekin sup- 
 ported the farce with great address; and making 
 a merit of disregarding his own preservation for 
 the sake of the baronet, took him under his di- 
 rection ; feeding his terrors by occasional doubts 
 whether he should be able to discover the intrica- 
 cies of the caverns, (though every inch of them 
 was as familiar to him as his own threshold) and 
 thus brought him to the ferry just in time to save 
 their passage before the stream met the rock. The 
 adventure, by which justice was satisfied and re- 
 venge indulged, served the old man for a laugh as 
 
 long as he lived. We were glad to find that 
 
 Loutherberg had availed himself of scenes so ad- 
 mirably adapted to his pencil; and committed to 
 the canvas an effect, of all others the most singular, 
 that of distant daylight through the mouth of the 
 cavern, breaking in upon the eye after its having 
 so long been confined to the faint rays of a candle 
 glimmering in outer darkness. 
 
 Having compleated our subterraneous excursion, 
 we turned to the right into a ravine called the 
 Cave Valley, to look at a heap of basalt, discovered 
 there a few years ago. This is a narrow glen, 
 sunk between two vast limestone rocks, gradually 
 opening into width as it extends in length. Fol- 
 lowing this hollow about a mile from Castleton,
 
 C 174 ] 
 
 we perceived the basaltic column to the left, very- 
 irregular in its form, but in hardness and texture 
 similar to those of Staffa in the Hebrides, and the 
 Giant's-Causeway in Ireland. Incorporated in it 
 is crystallized quartz, approaching in appearance 
 to chalcedony. This column is part of a vast un- 
 shaped basaltic mass which stretches north and 
 south about sixty yards ; covered with a stratum 
 of clay that has very much the look of scoria, 
 and seems to indicate volcanic effe&s in these parts. 
 It is of great thickness, and considerable dip. The 
 toadstone, which ranges under the limestone in 
 strata of different thickness, from three or four 
 fathoms to above one hundred, and contains in its 
 pores chalcedony, zeolite, and calcareous spar, 
 occurs in the immediate neighbourhood of the 
 basalt, but is sufficiently distinguishable from it by 
 being less hard and compaft; indeed, there are great 
 varieties of both, but especially of the toadstone, 
 from a dark brown to a light-coloured ochre full 
 of fine green spots. Opposite to this basalt is the 
 mountain of limestone; and like most of the 
 others in this neighbourhood, stratified; the strata 
 separated by little beds of clay. The admirable 
 lime burned from the stone renders the barren de- 
 clivities that compose the mountains around pro- 
 ductive of oats, the only grain attempted to be sown
 
 [175 ] 
 
 hereabouts. I before mentioned the sudden disap-^ 
 pearance of the limestone to the northward, occasi- 
 oned by its rapid dip, which introduces in its room 
 gritstone, and shale, or shiver. Of these substan- 
 ces the latter is nearly of a black colour, varying in 
 quality and texture; of extreme hardness in its 
 stratum, but soon shivering when exposed to the at- 
 mosphere; sometimes impregnated with vitriol and 
 iron; sometimes saturated with carbonic acid; and 
 sometimes containing petroleum. The limestone 
 mountain, called Tre-Mountain, to the south of the 
 shiver, is full of marine exuvia; e?ichrini y entrochi, 
 screws, high- waved cockles, &c. as well as quartz 
 crystal, and elastic bitumen attached to the limestone. 
 It contains also that singular calcareous substance, 
 peculiar to this spot, called Blue-John, found in de- 
 tached masses of irregular forms and different sizes, 
 from that of an apple to nearly a ton in weight; 
 and worked by the manufacturers at Castleton, 
 Buxton, Derby, and other places, into beautiful 
 pillars, vases, and other ornamental forms. The 
 miners say, Nature intended it for lead, but that 
 accident has made it what it is. The scarcity of it, 
 at present (for it appears to be nearly exhausted) 
 has raised its price on the spot to 20I. per ton. You 
 are not to imagine, however, that all the elegant 
 articles sold in the shop for Blue John are worked
 
 [ 176 ] 
 
 from this material in its genuine unadulterated 
 state; the dealers in it, even amongst the mountains 
 of Derbyshire, exhibit as much dexterity in adul- 
 terating and altering it as the most ingenious artizan 
 in Duke's-place or the Minories could do. The 
 article, when dug out, is of various colours, ac- 
 cording as it is more or less tinged with mineral; 
 and some of it of so deep a blue as to approach 
 nearly to black. In order to render this saleable, 
 the manufacturer exposes it to a gentle heat for a 
 short time, and having thus warmed it through, 
 places it in a much stronger for about half an hour, 
 when it is drawn out, and exhibits those rich and 
 resplendent purple tints which put to shame the 
 lustre of the famous Tyrian dye. Great care, 
 however, is requisite in this process.; for should 
 the mass continue too long exposed to the fire, 
 every colour would be discharged, and the whole 
 reduced to an opaque white. Exclusive of this 
 trick, the workmen have another mode of recom- 
 mending their ware by artificial beauty. The 
 masses frequently arc found imperfect, that is, 
 indented with holes, where this happens to be case, 
 a quantity of lead is melted ancLpoured into the 
 place, and afterwards being cut and polished with 
 the spar, assumes the curious appearance of ha- 
 ving been naturally combined with it.
 
 [ J 77 ] 
 
 Our next visit was to the very ancient mine of 
 Odin, about a mile to the west of Castleton, at the 
 foot of the Tre mountain, employing about one 
 hundred and forty labourers, men, women, and 
 children. It consists of two levels, running hori- 
 zontally under the mountain; the upper, a cart- 
 gate, by which the ore is brought from the mine; 
 the lower one, a water-level, to drain it from the 
 works. They penetrate the mountain to more 
 than a mile from the entrance, and are ventilated 
 by shafts sunk into them from above, at the dis- 
 tance of every thirty yards. At the mouth, the 
 level is not more than a fathom and a quarter from 
 the surface of the land ; but at the further extre- 
 mity, above one hundred and fifty. It belongs to 
 several proprietors, and makes great returns. The 
 ore produced here is called potter's ore; its veins 
 usually intersecting the limestone stratum at 
 right angles, which veins are composed of cawk, 
 kevil, and calcareous spar, and sometimes blende, 
 barytes, mangenese, sulphate of iron, native oxyde 
 of zinc, carbonate of lead, combined with lead ore, 
 separated at various depths by the toad-stone, 
 which here stratifies alternately with the lime- 
 stone. The ore is different in quality, the best 
 yielding about three ounces of silver to the ton 
 weight of lead. The system by which the mine
 
 [ 178 ] 
 
 property we are speaking of is regulated, being 
 somewhat complicated, as well as singular, I must 
 give you an account of it in the intelligible words 
 of Dr. Aikin. 
 
 " There are numerous and various regulations 
 respecting the rights of miners, and the dues pay- 
 able for the ores in different parts of the mining 
 country. The principal tract, containing lead is 
 called the kings-field. Under this denomination 
 nearly the whole wapentake of Wirksworth is 
 comprised, as well as part of the high Peak. The 
 mineral duties of the king's-field have been from 
 time immemorial letton lease j the present farmer 
 of those on the high Peak is the Duke of Devon- 
 shire, and of those in the wapentake of Wirks- 
 worth is Mr. Rolles. They have each a steward 
 and bar-masters in the districts they hold of the 
 crown. The steward presides as judge in the bar- 
 mote courts, and, with twenty-four jurymen, de- 
 termines all disputes respecting the working of 
 mines. The courts are held twice a year; those 
 of the high Peak at Money- Ash, and those of the 
 wapentake at Wirksworth. Hie principal office 
 of the bar-masters is putting miners in possession 
 of the veins they have discovered, and collecting 
 the proportion of ore due to the lessee. When a 
 miner has found a new vein of ore in the king's-
 
 C 179 ] 
 
 field, provided it be not in an orchard, garden, or 
 high-road, he may obtain an exclusive right to it 
 on application to the bar-master. The method of 
 giving possession is in the presence of two jurymen, 
 marking out, in a pipe or rake work, two meares of 
 ground, each containing twenty-nine yards; ancj 
 in a flat work, fourteen yards square. But if a. 
 miner neglect to avail himself of his discovery 
 within a limited time, he may be deprived of the 
 vein of which he has received possession, and the. 
 bar-master may dispose of it to another adventurer. 
 As to the other part of the bar-master's office, 
 that of superintending the measurement of the ore 
 and taking the dues of the lessee or lord of the 
 manor, it is attended with some difficulty, from 
 the variety of the claims, which differ greatly in 
 different places. In general a thirteenth of the 
 ore is due in king's-field, but a twenty-fifth only 
 is taken; besides this there is a due for tithe. In 
 tnines that are private property, such tolls are paid 
 as the parties agree on. 
 
 " The miner having satisfied the several claims 
 proceeds to dispose of his ore to the merchant or 
 smelter. There are four denominations of ore; 
 the largest and best sort is called bing; the next in 
 size, and almost equal inequality, is called pesey; 
 the third is smitbam, which passes through the 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 [ 180 ] 
 
 sieve in washing; the fourth, which is caught by 
 a very slow stream of water, and is as fine as flour, 
 is called bellard; it is inferior to all the rest, on 
 account of the admixture of foreign particles. All 
 the ore, as it comes from the mine, is beaten into 
 pieces and washed before it is sold. This business 
 is performed by women, who can earn about six- 
 pence per day." 
 
 The business of the miner is entirely a matter 
 of speculation, the lets or bargains, as they term 
 them, sometimes not repaying them for the trouble 
 of procuring the ore, and the expence of their blasts; 
 at others, the profits are very large. A short time 
 since two men, who had lately taken a let for six 
 weeks, made thirty guineas each, clear of all 
 deductions. 
 
 The only remaining object at Castleton was the 
 great Spcedivcll level, lying to the south of the 
 road called the Winnefs, at the distance of a 
 mile from the town. Being provided with lights 
 and a guide, who expefts five shillings for his 
 trouble, we descended a flight of stone stairs, about 
 one hundred feet below the surface of the ground, 
 and found ourselves in a subterraneous passage 
 seven feet high and six feet wide, through which 
 flowed a stream of water. Here was a boat ready 
 for our reception, formerly used, when the mine
 
 [ 181 ] 
 
 was worked, for the purpose of bringing out the 
 ore. As we proceeded slowly along the current, 
 impelled by our guide, who gave motion to the 
 boat by pushing against some pegs driven into the 
 wall for that purpose, we began to contemplate 
 this great example of man's labour, and at the same 
 time to lament, that it had been exerted in vain. 
 This level, it seems, was undertaken by a company 
 of speculators about five and twenty years ago, 
 who drove it into the heart of the mountain three 
 thousand seven hundred and fifty feet, at an ex- 
 pence of 14,0001. by the ceaseless labour of six 
 men and three boys, who were employed upon it 
 eleven whole years, at a contract of five guineas 
 per yard. The veins, however, which the level 
 intersected, were not sufficiently rich to answer the 
 expence of pursuing them after they were found; 
 therefore, having followed their speculation for 
 ten years, they were obliged to relinquish it, and 
 content themselves with letting the level to a man 
 at iol. per annum; who took it in order to gra- 
 tify strangers with a sight of this subterraneous 
 wonder. Whilst employed in putting questions 
 to our conductor on the subject before us, our at- 
 tention was excited by a distant murmur, which 
 gradually increased upon the ear, and at length 
 swelled into a stunning noise, exceeding the loudest
 
 [ 182 ] 
 
 thunder, and conveying the idea of a stupendous 
 river throwing itself headlong into an unfathom- 
 able abyss. Nor had fancy painted an unreal 
 picture, for on reaching the half-way point a scene 
 was unfolded to us tremendous in the extreme. 
 Here the level burst suddenly upon a gulph, whose 
 roof and bottom were entirely invisible, a sky 
 rocket having been sent up towards the former, 
 above six hundred feet, without rendering it 
 apparent; and the latter having been plummed 
 with a line four hundred feet, and no bottom dis- 
 covered. A foaming torrent, roaring from the 
 dark recesses, high in the heart of the mountain, 
 over our heads to the right, and discharging itself 
 into this bottomless caldron, whose waters com- 
 menced at ninety feet below us, produced the noise 
 we had heard; a noise which was so powerfully 
 increased on this near approach to it, as entirely 
 to overwhelm the mind for a short time, and a- 
 waken that unaccountable feeling which creates 
 desperate courage out of excessive fear, and almost 
 tempts the spectator to plunge himself into the 
 danger, whose presence he so much dreads. The 
 prodigious depth of this abyss may be conceived 
 from the circumstances of its having swallowed up 
 the rubbish which a level, eighteen hundred feet 
 loDg, of the dimensions above given, produced; as
 
 C 183 ] 
 
 well as sixteen tons of the same rubbish cast into 
 it every day for three or four years, without any 
 sensible lessening of its depth or apparent con- 
 traction of its size. Indeed many fah concur to 
 prove, that it is connected with the Castleton cave; 
 and naturalists are now of opinion, that the whole 
 country from hence to Elden-Hole exhibits a series 
 of caverns, extensive and profound, uniting with 
 each other, and thus becoming joint partakers of 
 whatever either of them may receive. A convey- 
 ance apparently perilous, but perfectly secure, is 
 formed over the chasm we have described, by a 
 strong wooden frame- work, through which the wa- 
 ter passes. Beyond this the level continues about 
 two thousand feet further; but as the effect of a 
 second approach to the abyss (which must be again 
 taken in returning) is much lessened by the prior 
 visit, and as nothing occurs worth observation in 
 the remaining half, we found we had extended our 
 voyage to no purpose to the termination of this 
 last wonder of the Peak. 
 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 R. W.
 
 
 
 N 
 
 Jg| Bedale 
 
 Masium l 
 
 r 
 
 Hackfall (?)/f 
 Stud ley 
 
 J^T \&*' Newby-HaJI 
 
 
 
 >^ Aldborough 
 If* Boroughbridge 
 
 
 
 v^"" Knaresborough 
 1J Harrogate 
 
 Harewood- 
 House 
 
 at 
 
 El Harewood 
 
 Kirkshall- 
 Abbey 
 
 4r 
 
 1 
 
 M Leeds 
 
 Sandal-Castle 
 
 sft 
 
 | Wakefield 
 Barnsley 
 
 
 ts\ 
 
 Rotherliam 
 
 Castletot) E^^"^ 
 
 Sheffield 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 DEAR SIRj 
 
 Bedale, June \5tl. 
 
 |"T was V.'s observation, on leaving Castleton, 
 -* that Nature must have had the ' Blue Devils,' 
 when she formed the country in this neighbour- 
 hood. The remark, indeed, seemed highly ap- 
 propriate to the road between Castleton and 
 Sheffield j than which nothing can be conceived
 
 C 186 ] 
 
 more dreary, rude, and forlorn, for twelve mile* 
 out of the sixteen. The little village of Ha- 
 thcrsage, dropped in the centre of a broad bot- 
 tom formed by the mountains rising around it, 
 contrasts agreeably with their barren summits and 
 dark declivities ; and offers the first dawnings of the 
 hardware trade to which we were approaching, in 
 a little manufactory of buttons. This scene of life 
 and business is, however, succeeded by a tract of 
 moor in the true style of the Salvator Rosa scenery; 
 the line of the horizon being broken by black 
 rocky crags, which frown over the subjacent waste, 
 and assume the appearance of enormous castellated 
 ruins. But this sterility and desolation only pre- 
 pare the traveller the better for the rich and fertile 
 picture presently to be presented to his eye, when 
 climbing a hill about five miles from Sheffield, he 
 throws his delighted vision over the southern part 
 of Yorkshire, and takes in an unbounded expanse 
 of country covered with towns, villages, manufac- 
 tories, and handsome human habitations. 
 
 Proceeding four miles through this region, which 
 seemed to Have burst upon us preternaturally, we 
 reached Sheffield, a large town situated near the 
 borders of Derbyshire, on a gentle rise, at the con- 
 fluence of the rivers Sheaf and Don. This place, 
 you know, has long been famous for the manufac-
 
 [ 187 ] 
 
 tory of knives, razors, scissars, files, and other ar- 
 ticles made from steel ; as well as buttons and silver 
 plated goods; a trade, however, which does not 
 appear to be attended with any considerable be- 
 nefit to those engaged in it, as few individuals in 
 this place amass large fortunes. The town, vast 
 as it is, (containing 22888 males, and 22807 &" 
 males) is not represented in parliament; its corpo- 
 ration only relates to the manufactory, and is called 
 the Company of Cutlers of Hallamshire, in which 
 it stands. The incorporation took place in 1625, 
 and was extended, and new privileges granted to it, 
 in 1791. Its concerns are regulated by a master, 
 elected every year on the last Thursday in August, 
 two wardens, six searchers, and twenty-four assist- 
 ants. The hardware manufactures appear to have 
 commenced here as early as the thirteenth century, 
 when military weapons were made in great abun- 
 dance. Less destructive instruments, the imple- 
 ments of industry, became the objeft of the towns- 
 men in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In 
 the year 1600, we find iron tobacco-boxes and 
 Jews'-harps the chief articles of trade here. Thirty 
 years afterwards the knife-manufactory started up; 
 in 1638, files and razors made their appearance; 
 but it was not till a century afterwards, that a com- 
 munication being opened between this place and
 
 [ 188 ] 
 
 the continent, the trade of Sheffield began to as- 
 sume any thing like the importance it at present 
 wears. Since then both it and population have 
 been increasing considerably; though not in the 
 same proportion with Birmingham, its rival sister. 
 
 The knife-manufactory of Messrs. Noel and 
 Kippax gratified us in a very interesting way. Here 
 upwards of ninety people are employed in forming 
 those useful instruments, from the rude bar iron to 
 the beautiful and complicated article which costs 
 seven or eight guineas, and contains twenty -eight 
 different pieces within the handle. Some, indeed, 
 are not of so high a value, as we were shewn spe- 
 cimens of knives, which, having passed through 
 sixty different hands, from the ore to the last po- 
 lishing, sold afterwards at the rate of twopence 
 halfpenny each. Five hundred different patterns 
 of knives are made at this manufactory, and taken 
 off by the London, East-Indian, and American 
 markets. Almost all the people employed work 
 by the piece, and earn, if industrious, about four, 
 shillings per day. 
 
 The tin-plate manufactory was too curious to be 
 passed over in neglect. Messrs. Goodman, Gains- 
 ford, and Co. are proprietors of the most consi- 
 derable one in Sheffield. Here those beautiful ar- 
 ticles are prep ar ed, winch vie with silver in lustre
 
 C 189 ] 
 
 and appearance; urns, tureens, salvers, candle- 
 sticks, stands, and the thousand other ornaments 
 of the dining and tea-tables, and side-board. The 
 articles themselves are of copper, which being re- 
 ceived by the workmen in oblong ingots, a mass of 
 silver exactly fitting it is placed upon each ingot, 
 soldered together with borax and certain other 
 materials, and then passed between two cylindrical 
 rollers of immense power, which reduce the mass 
 to the necessary thickness. The plate is then fit 
 for working, and receives the desired form by the 
 action of a prod'gious weight of lead driven down 
 upon it by a machine, which impresses it into a 
 mould beneath of the pattern required. One or 
 more strokes are used, according to the nature of 
 the pattern, whether shallow or deep. If the ar- 
 ticle be of a complicated form, the different parts 
 are made distinct, and afterwards soldered together. 
 They are then trimmed up, and finely burnished by 
 women, with little instruments headed with flint 
 and horn. The earnings even of this branch are 
 about fifteen shillings per week, if the ladies be 
 industrious; but those^of the other branches much 
 higher. The foreign trade is to the East-Indies, 
 America, Levant, Germany, and France. 
 
 Crossing the Don, we quitted Sheffield, and rode 
 for six miles through a country which conveyed a
 
 [ 190 3 
 
 lively idea of the operations of a hive of bees in the 
 
 busy hours of spring, as described by Virgil: 
 
 " Qualis apes aestate nova per florea rura 
 Exercet sub sole labor, cum gentis adultos 
 Educunt Faetus; aut cum liquentia mella 
 Stipant, & dulci distendunt neftare cellas, 
 Aut onera accipiunt veniendum agmine fa&o, 
 Ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcentj 
 Fervet opus." 
 
 All is animated industry; iron-works and coal- 
 pits on each side the road, and thickly peopled 
 villages all around. This scene continued to Ro- 
 therham, a town situated at the point where the 
 river Rother falls into the Don; and contains (ac- 
 cording to the last returns made in consequence of 
 Mr. Abbot's Bill) 1448 males, and 1622 females. 
 It has a great market for fat cattle and sheep, held 
 there every fortnight; from which the populous 
 country of Manchester and its neighbourhood de- 
 rive a considerable part of their supplies. The soil 
 about Rotherham is of different sorts; partly being 
 what is termed by the farmers red-land, (which is 
 a light earth mixed with the sand of the red free- 
 stone of the country) and partly land of a stronger 
 and heavier quality; most of it well adapted for 
 the growth of corn, and in a high state of culti- 
 vation. The under strata, after passing through 
 the stone, abound with iron and coal. Of the lat-
 
 [ 191 3 
 
 fer product there are a number of veins of different 
 thicknesses, from a few inches to seven feet, adapted 
 to different purposes. Some are hard, and calcu> 
 lated to bear the blast of the iron manufacturer; 
 whilst others are better fitted for the cheerful blaze 
 of the domestic fire. Masbrough, which is sepa* 
 rated from Rotherham only by the bridge, contains 
 1658 males, and 1668 females, a great proportion 
 of whom are employed in and about the iron- 
 works. Here are those of Messrs. Walker, where 
 most of the articles made either of cast or wrought 
 iron are manufactured, from the iron-bridge down. 
 to the Dutch hoe. Those of smaller and more 
 delicate workmanship in steel are almost exclusively 
 the produce of the neighbouring town of Sheffield. 
 The following account of the processes in cast- 
 ing and turning cannon, cannon-balls, &c. may 
 perhaps interest you : 
 
 To prepare the iron-stone for the furnace, it is 
 first baked in the open air in large heaps, in order 
 to dry it, and to deprive it as much as possible of 
 its sulphur and arsenic; which would be preju- 
 dicial to the quality of the metal; the coal is also 
 burnt into coke, or charred. These are then 
 thrown mingled together into the furnace, with 
 common limestone to aft as a flux, and some of a 
 superior kind of iron ore brought from Cumber-
 
 [ 192 ] 
 
 land, in various proportions, according to the qua- 
 lity required in the iron, and the uses it is destined 
 to. A strong blast is then applied to the furnace, 
 and as the iron melts, it falls down into the bottom 
 of the furnace, which is paved with large blocks of 
 freestone, and the mouth walled up with bricks 
 and clay. When it is ready for casting, a hole 
 is made with an iron crow, and the molten metal 
 suffered to run into the proper mould along chan- 
 nels of sand laid upon the ground; but where 
 smaller articles are wanted, the iron is run out of 
 the larger furnaces into a small receiving furnace 
 with an open door, whence it is lifted out in iron 
 ladles covered with clay, to prevent fusion, and car- 
 ried by the workmen to be poured into the moulds. 
 To prepare the mould for the cannon, a wooden 
 model is turned exactly of the size and shape re- 
 quired, and cut in several pieces, and the moulds 
 in which it is to be cast are made of iron, in short 
 pieces ; but, except that in which the breech of the 
 cannon is cast, they are all divided down the mid- 
 dle so as to close round the model, leaving a space 
 for sand to be put in betwixt the moulds and the 
 model. That part which represents the breech of 
 the cannon, is first placed upon a bed of sand con- 
 tained in an iron vessel like a pan, and in order to 
 form the iron loop attached to that part of the gun,
 
 C 193 ] 
 
 a piece of wood, representing the outside of that 
 loop, is put in, and sand beaten closely and firmly- 
 round every part of the model; the piece of wood 
 is then removed, and a round piece made of sand 
 and clay, representing the cavity of the loop, 
 is put in, which remains. The sand is beaten down 
 hard with wooden rammers, and when that piece 
 of the model is taken away, it is finished with 
 small trowels by the hand, to prevent any flaws by 
 any particles of sand which may have fallen in. 
 Other pieces of the model are preparing at the 
 same time, and the moulds fastened round them, 
 2nd the spaces betwixt them filled up with sand 
 rammed close in like manner, till it is even with 
 the upper surface. The pieces of the model are 
 then taken out, and the moulds put together with- 
 out them; and the moulds, in order to secure them 
 and prevent any possibility of their not fitting 
 each other, have flat rims corresponding, from one 
 of which are projecting staples, passing through 
 holes in that which comes opposite, and fastened 
 by iron wedges. Every part is carefully examined 
 by the workmen, and any defects repaired by them 
 with their trowels. The whole apparatus is now 
 conveyed into a large oven, where it remains till 
 the sand and mould are all compleatly dry; it is 
 then taken out, and by means of very strong tackle
 
 [ 194 ] 
 
 let down into a round pit sunk in the ground; 
 different channels for the melted iron being directed 
 towards this pit, and communicated across it 
 to the top of the mould by iron troughs, fortified 
 with sand and clay. The iron is then let out of 
 the furnaces, and runs along the ground in these 
 different channels, emitting in its passage brilliant 
 sparks like stars. Upon this occasion a great 
 number of the Cyclopes attend with shovels, to stop 
 the passage of the iron where it comes too fast, 
 as well as to prevent any great quantity of dross 
 from making its way into the mould. The splen- 
 did streams of melted fluid, with the burning light 
 they throw on the number of workmen assembled 
 round the spot, contrasted with the darkness of 
 the place, and the occasional cries of the workmen 
 when they pass the signals to stop or open the 
 distant furnaces, together with the roaring of the 
 metal as it falls into the mould, form altogether a 
 terrific scene; and would be an admirable subjecT: 
 for a painter. Care is taken to leave a sufficient 
 space at the top of the mould to receive the dross 
 and such other substances as swim upon the sur- 
 face, which are afterwards cut off. The whole 
 remains in the pit for several hours, that the iron 
 may set; it is then taken out, the surrounding 
 frame taken to pieces, and as soon as the workmen
 
 C W ] 
 
 can bear the heat, the sand, &c. which adheres to 
 the cannon is beaten off with large hammers, and 
 it remains for at least twenty-four hours before 
 it is cool. 
 
 The cannon, being now entirely solid, is taken 
 away to be bored and finished. In order to per- 
 form this, its breech is fastened to the axis of a 
 water-wheel, which, by means of a regulating 
 shuttle, turns the cannon with such velocity as the 
 workman requires. It runs upon a fixed frame; 
 and after the muzzle is cut to the proper length, 
 (which is done by applying to it a sharp cubical 
 piece of steel, forced against it by means of a lever) 
 the borer is applied. This borer is a long iron rod, 
 or rather beam, shod with sharp pieces of hard 
 steel, and fastened to a moveable carriage, which 
 runs upon small wheels in grooves exactly parallel 
 with the proposed bore of the gun; and by means 
 of a horizontal rack on each side, passing through 
 a hole (or rather a long box) in the fixed frame to 
 receive it, and which has a small wheel with teeth 
 or cogs corresponding with those of the rack, and 
 a long lever applied to its axis, the borer with 
 its carriage is pressed against the gun with a force 
 answering to the weight which is applied to the 
 end of the lever acting by means of its cog-wheel 
 upon the rack. The cannon all this time turning 
 
 vol. r. o
 
 C 196 ] 
 
 round, the borer forms the bore of the gun, which 
 complains loudly of this treatment; for it makes a 
 screaming noise, that may be sometimes heard to 
 the distance of two miles. During this operation 
 of boring, the workman turns and finishes the out- 
 side of the gun, by sharp-edged pieces of steel 
 applied to its sides; and the ornamental parts of it, 
 cyphers, or crown, with the projecting part which 
 holds the priming, are done by the hand with a 
 hammer and chissel; the touch-hole is then drilled, 
 and the gun compleated. An eighteen-pounder, 
 nine feet long, when compleat, without its carriage, 
 weighs 42oolbs. ; one of eight feet, two tons; a 
 twenty-four pounder 5ooolbs.; and a thirty-two 
 pounder 55oolbs. weight. 
 
 The method of casting cannon-balls is as follows: 
 two pieces of iron, like two basons, are placed upon 
 each other, with a groove turned in the lower, so 
 that the upper fits upon it. Hie inside of each 
 is turned, and hollowed like a half-sphere, so as to 
 fit exactly; and in tlus operation great nicety is 
 required. In the centre of one of these pieces a 
 hole is bored, to admit the melted iron, and no- 
 thing more is required than to place these pieces 
 upon each other, dusting them with a little pow- 
 dered charcoal or black lead, and then to pour the 
 melted metal into the hole till it is full.
 
 C 197 ] 
 
 Besides the large blast-furnaces, there are a 
 great number of smaller air-furnaces, in which the 
 old iron is re-melted. These are constructed in the 
 form of great chests, but contracted towards the 
 middle, where the iron is put, and then widening 
 out again to the chimney, which is built at a great 
 height, for the sake of the draught. At the part 
 of the furnace which is farthest from the chimney, 
 the coals are put through a small door; and the 
 air forcing its way through the fire, to get up the 
 chimney, is contracted into a focus upon the nar- 
 rower part of the furnace where the iron is put, 
 and effects a compleat fusion in about three hours. 
 These furnaces are built with fire-bricks, with a 
 bed of sand for the melted metal; and in this ope- 
 ration the coals are put in as they come out of the 
 pit. In these stupendous works we saw models of 
 some iron bridges which had been already made, 
 and parts of others now manufacturing. 
 
 The first iron bridge, upon the principle of the 
 celebrated Thomas Paine, (the inventor) was cast 
 at Messrs. Walker's works, under his own inspec- 
 tion; but although it answered to a certain degree, 
 it was deficient in strength. This defect has been 
 since remedied in the iron bridges that have been 
 cast here, of which that at Sunderland is the most 
 famous; and there is one now in hand for the river
 
 C '93 ] 
 
 Thames at Staines, upon a construction apparently 
 superior to any hitherto cast. Indeed no doubt 
 remains, that these iron bridges will supersede 
 those of stone entirely; as they are put up with a 
 fifth part of the expence, a tenth part of the time, 
 and will be found to be equally, if not more, durable. 
 
 There is also belonging to Messrs. Walker a 
 considerable manufactory for tinning iron plates, 
 which are first drawn out 'to the requisite thickness 
 by cylindrical rollers, and afterwards cut to the size 
 required, and cleaned with a strong acid solution. 
 They are then dipped into the tin, which is melted 
 in a proper receiver, with a quantity of grease and 
 resin on its surface, to prevent its calcination by 
 exposure to the air, and the plate comes out with 
 the tin adhering to it; this is afterwards cleaned 
 and rubbed with bran to take off the grease, and 
 is then complcated for use. 
 
 The conversion of iron into steel is also a consi- 
 derable branch of the same manufactories. This is 
 a simple process, by baking the hammered bars of 
 iron in close ovens with charcoal for several days, 
 till the carbo has completely penetrated the whole 
 of the bar. In this operation the best and most 
 malleable iron is used; and it seems as if this pro- 
 cess only restored it nearly to its former state of 
 cast-iron divested of its impurities; for as, in order
 
 C *99 ] 
 
 to make the cast iron, malleable, it is necessary to 
 refine it, to deprive it of its plumbago, carbo, and 
 silicious substances, with which it is impregnated, 
 (which is partly done in the reverberatory furnace, 
 and partly under the forge-hammer) so, in order 
 to make it steel, it is necessary to restore a portion 
 of what it was before deprived of; there seems, 
 therefore, a great probability, that, in the advance- 
 ment of the arts, a method will be discovered to make 
 steel in the first instance out of the ore. This has, 
 indeed, been already done to a certain degree, by 
 Mr. Read, in a work near Whitehaven. 
 
 It would be difficult to give you an idea of the 
 wages of the workmen in these branches, they 
 vary so much in consequence of superior skill, 
 piece-work, or difference of employments. The 
 labourers in husbandry around Rotherham earn 
 about 2S. a day. The poor in general live comfort- 
 ably, their situation being much ameliorated by 
 the cheapness of fuel. This gives a surprising 
 cheerfulness to the appearance of their cottages in a 
 winter's evening, warmed and lighted by the blaze 
 of an excellent fire, contributing at the same time to 
 their health as well as enjoyment; a circumstance 
 to which may be probably attributed the remarkable 
 healthiness of the town and neighbourhood, and 
 the almost total absence of epidemic disorders.
 
 [ 200 ] 
 
 Quitting Rotherham, we mounted the hill on 
 the north of the town, and throwing our eye back 
 on the tracl we had lately passed through, be- 
 held a pi&ure of such richness and variety as, per- 
 haps, no other part of England can afford. Before 
 us, also an extremely grand country disclosed itself, 
 undulating into broad hills and wide vallies, whose 
 boundless fertility is assisted by an admirable system 
 of agriculture. The prospect terminated with the 
 majestic woods of Wentworth-park, within whose 
 embrace stands the gorgeous mansion of Earl 
 Fitzwilliam, about four miles from Rotherthara, 
 and half a mile from the turnpike-road. Its front 
 stretches upwards of six hundred feet in a strait 
 line, and consists of a centre and two wings. The 
 portico (which measures sixty feet in length by 
 twenty in the proje&ion) is ascended by a double 
 flight of steps, and supported by e ; ght pillars of the 
 Corinthian order. The arms of the family orna- 
 ment the tympanum, and the following motto, so 
 appropriate to the inflexible integrity and uncor- 
 ruptible political virtue of the late Marquis of 
 Rockingham, runs along the entablature, Mea 
 Gloria Fides, 
 
 Our ciceroni led us into the house through the 
 rustic story formed by a noble arcade, and a suite 
 of rooms, in one of which is a very fine piece of
 
 [ 201 ] 
 
 modern statuary, consisting of three figures, by 
 Foggini, Samson slaying two Philistines. It is of 
 white marble, and approaches to life not onlyin size 
 but in strength of expression: the accuracy of 
 the anatomy, the grandness of the heads, and the 
 force of the limbs, are not to be excelled. 
 
 Ascending to the ball, we found ourselves in a 
 room superlatively fine, from the grandeur of its 
 dimensions, the justness of its proportions, the 
 taste of its decorations, and the beauty of its con- 
 tents. The architect has chosen the square figure, 
 sixty feet everyway, relieved by an height of thirty- 
 eight feet; and a gallery, which runs round the 
 whole, and projects ten feet. Eighteen fluted pil- 
 lars, of the Ionic order, support this member, of 
 the beautiful composition called Scaleogni, crowned 
 with capitals of white marble, and standing upon 
 bases of the same, with squares of the verd antique. 
 Eighteen Corinthian pilasters run from the gallery 
 to the ceiling, which is laid out in compartments 
 of stucco. Within the lower columns are eight 
 niches, containing the following precious produc- 
 tions of the arts, in white marble: A Flora, by 
 Philip Valle. Antinous, a naked figure, most beau- 
 tiful, particularly the hair, by Cavacippi. Germa- 
 nicus, a naked figure, represented as declaiming, 
 by Philip Valle; great expression in the face and
 
 [ 202 ] 
 
 hands. -Venus Callipega, by Maina; delicate and 
 graceful, looking over her shoulder and holding 
 the fine drapery of her garment above her right 
 arm. A Dancing Fawn, with the crotalos in his 
 hand. A ditto, with a fistula in his hand, and a 
 goat over his shoulder. A Venus de Medici. An 
 Apollo Vaticanus; the four last admirable copies 
 from the antique. At the upper end of the hall 
 stands a Colossal statue of Ariadne, antique, with 
 a thyrsus in her right hand; her left hand elevated; 
 the drapery fine, but hair and face stiff. On one 
 side are two good busts, copies, a dying Alexander, 
 and a Julius Casar. A most agreeable effeft is 
 produced by the Cerulean blue of theScaglioni com- 
 position, that lines the niches; which relieves, in a 
 surprising manner, the glittering white marble of 
 which theseexquisite pieces of statuary arecomposed. 
 
 The suite of apartments to the left of the hall 
 from the grand entrance is 
 
 The ante-room, thirty feet by twenty, where we 
 find the following specimens of the arts: 
 
 An antique Egyptian Isis, with the lotus in her 
 hand, two feet and a half high ; the swelling of the 
 muscles and contour of the body finely shewn through 
 the drapery. It stands on a valuable table of in- 
 laid marble. A fine Claude, small. George II. 
 "'whole length, 1 754, by Shackleton. William Duke
 
 [ 203 ] 
 
 of Cumberland , by Sir Joshua Reynolds. A Land- 
 scape, by Teniers. 
 
 Vandyck drawing-room, fitted up in white and 
 gold 
 
 Catherine of Braganza, sister to Don Alphonso 
 King of Portugal, and wife to Charles II. Royal 
 marriages are so generally matches of convenience 
 and political management, that though we may 
 lament, yet we are scarcely surprised to find them 
 unproductive of that happiness usually sought for, 
 and more frequently found, by their subjects in 
 that state. But even this apology cannot be offered 
 by the favourers of the fickle monarch, in extenua- 
 tion of neglecl and contempt, which almost amounted 
 to brutality, towards his consort; for in terms less 
 harsh it is impossible to mention, that the names 
 of more than one of his mistresses appear in the list 
 of attendants appointed for the person of Catherine. 
 JDuring the war carried on by Cromwell against 
 Spain, he had encouraged the Portuguese to revolt 
 from the Catholic King, and entered into a treaty 
 with them for that purpose. On the Restoration, 
 they were desirous of renewing the alliance, and 
 by way of giving additional strength to the con- 
 nection, they proposed the Princess Catherine in 
 marriage, with a portion of 300,0001. and the 
 fortresses of Tanjore and Bombay. Spain, desi-
 
 [ 204 ] 
 
 rous of defeating this league, engaged to adopt any 
 Princess of another house, and portion her equal 
 to Portugal. Ministers were inclined to the last 
 offer, but the king would not allow his own choice 
 and fancy to be thwarted; and the acquisition of 
 two such fortresses promised great accession of 
 naval strength to England, which rendered the 
 union more palateable to the nation. Thus was 
 concluded, probably, as unhappy a marriage as 
 ever was registered. 
 
 Charles II. half-length, by Lely; one of the 
 finest portraits that this artist ever painted. 
 Thomas Earl of Strafford, and his Dog, 
 Archbishop Laud, whole length, by Vandyck. 
 This learned prelate was son of a clothier at Read- 
 ing, and educated at St. John's College, Oxford, 
 of which society he afterwards became president; 
 from whence he was removed to the bishopric of 
 St. David's, thence translated to Bath and Wells, 
 and on the decease of Abbot, seated on the 
 metropolitan throne of Canterbury. Being a bi- 
 gotted admirer of religious forms and ceremonies, 
 he was selected by Buckingham as the mast fit in- 
 strument to further the designs of Charles I. in the 
 disputes between that king and his subjects; one of 
 the early proofs of the superiority acquired by the 
 Parliament was the commitment of this favourite
 
 [ 205 ] 
 
 minister to the Tower, by a vote of the two Houses, 
 where he remained nearly four years; and was 
 then brought forth to a trial of twenty days, which 
 had been previously determined to end in execu- 
 tion; and he expiated all his errors on the scaffold 
 1644, -^Et. 7 2 The royal pardon was pleaded, 
 but reje&ed. Indeed the whole of this prosecution 
 furnishes a fatal proof, how madly popular assem- 
 blies (when they overleap the bounds of law) na- 
 turally hurry into a&s of tyranny and oppression. 
 
 William second Earl of Strafford, was eldest son 
 of Thomas, whose honours were restored to him by 
 patent 1641, and the attainder reversed by Act of 
 Parliament soon after the Restoration. Ob. 1 695, 
 without issue; having married 
 
 Henrietta Maria, daughter of James seventh 
 Earl of Derby. 
 
 Charles I. aetat. 33, by Vandyck, whole-length; 
 a superb picture, where the melancholy trait of 
 countenance is strongly pourtrayed. 
 
 Henry Duke of Glocester was the favourite child 
 of Charles I. ; after his father's execution, he went 
 abroad, and participated the fortune of his family, 
 dependant on the Court of France; from many of 
 the miseries of which he was, however, spared by 
 an early death. Ob. 1660. JEx. 20.
 
 [ 206 ] 
 
 Queen Henrietta Maria, and Jeffrey Hudson, by 
 Vandyck. There is a duplicate of this pi&ure at 
 Petworth. This diminutive attendant was served 
 up in a pie at an entertainment given by the Duke 
 of Buckingham, and is said not to have exceeded 
 eighteen inches in height, until he had attained 
 thirty years of age, when he shot up to three feet 
 nine inches. During the civil wars, he filled the 
 rank of captain in the royal army; his appearance 
 rendered him liable to insult, and engaged him in 
 a duel with Mr. Croft, who would have met him 
 with a squirt, but the dwarf proposed pistols on 
 horseback, and shot his antagonist dead with the 
 first fire. He was confined on suspicion of being 
 concerned in a Popish plot after the Restoration, 
 and died in the Gatehouse, aged 6$. 
 
 Thomas Butler Earl of Ossory, (by Mytens) 
 son of the first, and father of the second Duke of 
 Ormond; a man of courage and intrepidity seldom 
 equalled, perhaps never exceeded, yet so perfectly 
 gentle and amiable as to have endeared himself to 
 all ranks. He commanded the English troops in 
 the service of the Prince of Orange, at the battle 
 of Mons, and served under Prince Rupert in the 
 memorable sea-fight of 1666. Obiit 1680. JEt. 
 46. The Karl is in armour, and the fore part of 
 a white horse appears extremely grand.
 
 [ 207 ] 
 
 George Calvert Lord Baltimore, (whole length) 
 secretary to Sir Robert Cecil, and afterwards ap- 
 pointed secretary of state to James I. by whom he 
 was raised to the peerage, and obtained a grant of 
 the province of Maryland from Charles I. 
 
 Villiers Duke of Buckingham, a whole length by 
 Cornelius Jansen, 
 
 Arabella Countess of Strafford, (whole length) 
 second wife to Earl Thomas, and daughter of John 
 Holies Earl of Clare. It was by the marriage of 
 her daughter Anne to Edward Lord Rockingham, 
 that the Went worth property became vested in the 
 family of the late Marquis. 
 
 Katharine of Portugal, a small half-length by Lely. 
 
 The grand dining-room, forty feet square, and 
 twenty feet high : 
 
 Lord Strafford and his Secretary; the former 
 supposed to be dictating to the latter his defence; 
 one of the grandest works of Vandyck. The titles 
 of this nobleman were, the Hon. Thomas Earl of 
 Strafford; Viscount Wen tworth; Baron Went worth 
 of Wentworth, Woodhouse, Newmarch, Oversley, 
 and Raby; lord lieutenant-general, and general 
 governor of Ireland; lord president of the council 
 established in the northern parts of England; lord- 
 lieutenant of the county and city of York; knight 
 of the garter; and one of the privy council.
 
 [ 208 ] 
 
 That the bearer of all these accumulated honours 
 should be the objeft of public indignation and pri- 
 vate resentment, can hardly be matter of surprise, 
 if we recollect, that they were conferred at a pe- 
 riod, when to deserve the love of the subject was 
 not found to be the best method of securing the 
 favour of the sovereign. But independent of that 
 envy and jealousy to which Strafford by his exalted 
 situation became liable, he had considerably height- 
 ened the rancour of party by his desertion from 
 the popular cause, to which he had early in life 
 declared himself warmly attached; and on his 
 apostacy was warned of his destiny by Pym, in 
 these memorable words: "You have left us; 
 " but I will not leave you, whilst you have a 
 " head on your shoulders." The parliament no 
 sooner felt itself assured of its superior strength, 
 than the opportunity was seized to carry this 
 threat into execution, when the court minister was 
 impeached by the Commons of England, and the 
 charge carried up to the Lords by Pym. His de- 
 fence before his compeers was spirited, nervous, 
 and energetic; yet looking at the temper of the 
 times, we are not surprized to find that it was not 
 sufficiently impressive to defeat the bill of attainder 
 which was produced in the lower house, and ap- 
 proved by the Lords. He was executed on Tower-
 
 [ 209 ] 
 
 Hill, May 1 2, 1 64 1 . Mt. 49. A few weeks after- 
 wards, the same parliament remitted to his chil- 
 dren the heavier consequences of his sentence; 
 and the attainder was reversed immediately after 
 the Restoration. 
 
 Anne Hyde Duchess ofVork was eldest daughter 
 to the celebrated Lord Chancellor Clarendon, and 
 married to James II. (before he came to the crown) 
 soon after the Restoration; having so far previously 
 favoured his addresses whilst abroad, as to render 
 an early marriage not only a point of honour but 
 of necessity. She died 1671, openly professing 
 the Catholic religion. 
 
 Sir Stanhope, 1572, great grandfather of 
 
 William Earl of Strafford. 
 
 A fine portrait of Whistle- Jacket, a celebrated 
 racer belonging to the late Marquis, by Stubbs. 
 There is no back ground to this piece, the noble 
 owner of it fearing the introduction of one might 
 spoil the picture. Perhaps, indeed, it may be judi- 
 cious to omit them in portraits, as the relief is 
 greater without them, and the attention then con- 
 fined entirely to the subject. There is much nature 
 and spirit in this picture, painted 36 years ago. 
 
 This room is not fitted up. The beautiful white 
 marble chimney-piece cost 700I.
 
 [ 210 ] 
 
 The chapel is square, simple in its decorations, 
 and fitted up with oak. Here are found the fol- 
 lowing pictures: A large and magnificent piece, by 
 Luca Giordano, Samuel slaying the Philistines. 
 The twelve Apostles, in twelve separate works, 
 and Christ; all copied from Guido. Madona and 
 Child, by Andrea del Sarto; the ease of the child's 
 figure, and the infantine innocence of his face, are 
 strikingly beautiful. Head of our Saviour crowned 
 with thorns, Guido; exquisite expression of acute 
 suffering endured with resignation, admirably 
 marking the character of Him who was " a man of 
 " sorrows and acquainted with grief." St. 'Jerome 
 and an Angel, Guercino, The preparation to slay 
 St. Bartholomew; by Espagnoletto; like most of 
 the other efforts of his pencil, bold, expressive, 
 and horribly fine. Five scripture-pieces on copper; 
 small, but highly finished* 
 
 The library is sixty feet by twenty; over the 
 chimney is a figure in wood, large as life, of 
 
 The Hon. Thomas Watson Wcntworth, second son 
 of Edward second Lord Rockingham. He suc- 
 ceeded to the estate of his uncle William Earl of 
 Strafford, and assumed the name of Wcntworth. 
 
 In the white bed-chamber is a curious original 
 portrait of Henry the Seventh on wood; a rigid 
 likeness, but hard oullinc.
 
 C 211 ] 
 
 Gulielmus de Nassau, Prince of Orange. Mar- 
 garet Wentwortb, youngest daughter to the first 
 Earl of Strafford; by Lely. SirChristopherWords- 
 ivorth; half-length, by Cornelius Janssen. Henry 
 Vere Earl of Oxford, lord high chamberlain; obiit 
 1625. Boys blowing bubbles, and eating oysters, 
 very fine; by Lely. A large Landscape, by Paul 
 Veronese. An Holy Family, by Andrea del Sarti. 
 Henry Prince of Wales, a small half-length, most 
 beautiful. 
 
 A small imaginary portrait of our Saviour, three 
 quarters, painted on wood with this inscription: 
 " This present figure is the similitude of our Lord 
 " J. H. S. our Saviour, imprinted on an emerald by 
 " the predecessors of the great Turke, and sent to 
 " Pope Innocent the Eighth, for a token to redeem 
 " his brother that was taken prisoner." 
 
 A large Landscape with ruins; Nic. Poussin. 
 
 Over the door, a Portuguese Courtezan, and an 
 old man paying his court to her by feeding her 
 parrot; Paul Giordano. 
 
 Charlotte de la Tremouille Countess of Derby; 
 a?tat. 18, 1634. She was wife of James the 7th 
 Earl of Derby; her name will long stand high in 
 the annals of heroism, for her gallant defence of 
 Lathom-House and the isle of Man. It was her 
 
 VOL. 1. P
 
 [ - 12 ] 
 
 proud boast to have been the last person in the 
 British dominions who submitted to the Republic. 
 Her Sister ; iEtat. 10, A. D. 1634. 
 
 Christ taken from the Cross-, a fine piece, in 
 which the three women are introduced, and a light 
 diffused over the figures from the lamp. Carracci. 
 Claude de la Tremouille Due de Thouars, a peer 
 of France, but more truly honoured as the father 
 of the above-mentioned Countess of Derby. 
 Sigismunda; a fine head. 
 
 Thomas Wriothesley fourth Earl of Southampton. 
 He was second son of Shakespeare's celebrated 
 patron, and succeeded to the title on the death of 
 his father, who survived the eldest son. Although 
 steadily attached to Charles I. he never suffered his 
 personal regard for the sovereign to overcome the 
 duty which he owed his country. , On the Resto- 
 ration he was appointed lord-treasurer, which of- 
 fice he retained till his death in 1667, and fre- 
 quently, though unsuccessfully, endeavoured to 
 reduce the expences of Charles's licentious court; 
 but he was doomed to feel that the giddy monarch, 
 who could value his counsel on other occasions, 
 would not sacrifice his own course of riotous plea- 
 sures and extravagance. Half-length, by Lely. 
 
 James II. when young. Small whole length. 
 Henry Frederic de Nassau Prince of Orange, (1629,
 
 [ 213 ] 
 
 half-length) grandfather to William III. Obiit 
 1647. A drinking party of Peasants, by Ostade. 
 
 James Stanley seventh Earl of Derby ; half- 
 length, by Cornelius Janssen. The annals of 
 Charles I. furnish innumerable instances of cou- 
 rage, intrepidity, loyalty, and attachment; but no 
 one appears to have served his cause more faithfully 
 than this nobleman, who displayed many proofs of 
 valour during the civil wars, particularly at Wigan, 
 where, with six hundred horse, he withstood a 
 corps of three thousand, commanded by Colonel 
 Lilburne; and after receiving seven shots on his 
 breast-plate, thirteen cuts on his beaver, five 
 wounds on his arms and shoulders, and having two 
 horses killed under him, he efFe&ed his escape to 
 Worcester, in which battle he was made prisoner, 
 and executed, in violation of a promise of quarter. 
 This may, perhaps, be attributed to his spirited 
 and irritating answer returned to Ireton, who of- 
 fered him his own terms to surrender the isle of 
 Man; and which is preserved in detail by Lord 
 Orford in his ' Memoirs of Noble Authors.' 
 
 An Earl of Derby, fifty-eight years of age. A 
 Female Spinner; very fine, by Teniers. Small head 
 of Christ, and another of Mary, both exquisite spe- 
 cimens of Carlo Dolci's characteristic softness. 
 A Dutch Fisherman, by Mieris.
 
 [ 214 ] 
 
 Rembrandt, by himself. He was son of a miller 
 near Leyden, and though highly esteemed as a 
 painter, yet is better known as an engraver; but 
 his works in either branch are highly valuable and 
 rare. The most perfect, colle&ion of his etchings 
 was possessed by the late Mr. Dalby of Liverpool, 
 and on his death (experiencing the lot to which 
 all collections are subject) were disposed of by 
 public au& ion, when fifty-seven guineas were given 
 for a single print. Obiit 1674. 
 
 In the white dressing-room is the finest picture in 
 the collection, a sleeping Cupid, by Guido. 
 
 Holy Family, by Raphael; tender contour, and 
 fine colouring. 
 
 Dr. William Harvey, half-length. He was phy- 
 sician to James I. and his successor, and a great 
 benefaclo to the College of Physicians; but his 
 contribution to society at large was infinitely greater, 
 by his discovery of the circulation of the blood, 
 which was justly declared by a contemporary writer 
 to have been preferable to the discovery of the new 
 world. Obiit 1657, JEt. 80. 
 
 A reputed original half-length portrait of Shake' 
 spearc, inscribed, " This portrait belonged to John 
 " Dryden, esq; and was given to him by Sir 
 " Godfrey Kneller." See Dryden's epistle to Sir 
 Godfrey Kneller, in his Works, vol. ii. The late
 
 [ 215 ] 
 
 Marquis valued this picture so highly as to keep it 
 constantly in his own bedchamber. 
 
 A Cupid y fine copy from Titian. The Six Poets 
 of Italy, a singularly striking groupe, by Vasari. 
 
 Cardinal Richelieu-, an original picture, half- 
 length. He was prime minister to Louis XIII. 
 and one of the greatest politicians that ever directed 
 the affairs of any nation. Whilst employed in 
 rendering absolute the power of the crown, he had 
 the address so far to engage the minds of the peo- 
 ple, and promote the honour of the nation, as to 
 make them willing parties to the sacrifice of their 
 remaining liberties. He instituted a botanic garden 
 at Paris; founded the French Academy; esta- 
 blished the royal press; rebuilt the college of 
 Sorbonne; and, by his counsels to Mazarine, laid 
 the foundation of all the wonders displayed by 
 France during the reign of Louis XIV. He died 
 1 642, and was interred in the college which he had 
 rebuilt ; where a superb mausoleum was erected to 
 the memory of one who had so liberally promoted 
 learning, and furnished a magnificent specimen of 
 the arts which he had so largely patronized. 
 
 A Virgin and Jesus, from the Orleans collec- 
 tion; by Raphael. 
 
 James Graham first Marquis of Montrose, In 
 the catalogue of Charles's followers, distinguished
 
 [ 216 ] 
 
 by their valour, intrepidity, loyalty, and attach- 
 ment, we find no one shining more eminently con- 
 spicuous than this nobleman, who early attached 
 himself to the royal cause, and was nominated 
 captain-general of Scotland, where his military 
 exploits are amongst the most brilliant in history. 
 When the king sought protection in the Scotch 
 camp at Newark, previous to his being delivered up 
 by that nation for 400,000!. to his English sub- 
 jects, he was prevailed upon to command all his 
 garrisons to surrender. By this order, Montrose 
 was induced to throw down his arms, and retire to 
 France; thence passing into Germany, he was 
 much caressed by the Emperor, vested with the 
 rank of Marecba/, and employed to levy a regiment 
 for the Imperial service in the Low Countries. But 
 Charles II. allured by the promise of support from 
 Scotland, sent to him from the Hague, renewing 
 his commission of captain-general, in which rank, 
 with a handful of mercenary troops collected in 
 Holland and Germany, and small supplies of arms 
 and money from the courts of Sweden, Denmark, 
 and the Emperor, he sailed for the Orkneys; and 
 on his advance to Caithness, he was opposed and 
 defeated by Leslie, his whole army killed or made 
 prisoners, and he himself, in the disguise of a pea- 
 sant, was delivered up to the enemy, by the trea-
 
 C 217 ] 
 
 chery of Lord Aston. Every species of indignity 
 and insult was offered to his person, which was 
 paraded through the streets of Edinburgh in his 
 assumed habit, tied to a high cart, in order that 
 he might be more fully exposed to the scoffing 
 multitude; and was brought before the Parliament 
 there sitting, when he did not humble himself by 
 lamenting his past conduct, but fully vindicated 
 every act of his life, except that in his youth he 
 had been seduced for a short time to tread in the 
 paths of rebellion. He was sentenced to be hanged 
 on a gibbet thirty feet high, and the execution was 
 marked with every aggravation of cruelty that 
 could be devised; but he died as he lived, display- 
 ing an exemplary proof of heroism rarely to be met 
 with but in Plutarch. Obiit 1650. 
 
 Emilia Sophia Marchioness of At hoi; daughter to 
 James seventh Earl of Derby, and sister to Henri- 
 etta Maria, wife of the second Earl of Strafford. 
 William Richard George gth Earl of Derby. Obiit 
 1702. Lucretia stabbing herself; an affecting pic- 
 ture, by Guido. Joseph and Potiphar y s Wife; by 
 Spanialo, a pupil of Dominichino. An admirable 
 copy of Vandyck's famous picture of Lord Strafford 
 and his Secretary. Orlando and Armida; Myeris. 
 Peasantry on horseback; in which the characte- 
 ristic figure of Wouvermans, the white horse,
 
 C sis ] 
 
 marks it for his work. Catherine Stanley Marchi- 
 oness of Dorchester, third daughter of Francis Earl 
 of Derby; obiit 1678. Whole length, by Lely. 
 A large picture by Guercino, Hagar, Ishmael, 
 and the Angel; a beautiful expression of grief in 
 the countenances of the first, and of pity and bene- 
 volence in that of third. Hagar' s face is a portrait 
 of Guercino's favourite woman ; it occurs in almost 
 all his pieces. 
 
 Francis Clifford Earl of Cumberland, whole 
 length; father to the first wife of Thomas Earl 
 of Strafford. A Magdalen, by Titian. Deep 
 contrition, and the most perfect prostration of soul, 
 characterize this face. 
 
 One of the most splendid cabinets in the king- 
 dom, composed of tortoise-shell and gilt brass, 
 compleats the ornaments of this room. 
 
 The grand drawing-room is forty feet square and 
 twenty-four high, and contains, 
 
 An Earl of Rockingham, half-length. 
 Sir William Wentworth, father of Thomas first 
 Earl of Strafford, was a Yorkshire gentleman of 
 great landed property, and created twenty-second 
 baronet in the list of precedency by James I. 
 Ob. 1 6 1 4. He married 
 
 Anne, daughter of Sir Robert Atkins, of Glo- 
 c< ter, the historian of that county.
 
 [ 219 ] 
 
 William second Earl of Strafford, and his two 
 sisters Anne Lady Rockingham, and Arabella Lady 
 Mountcassel; groupe by Vandyck. 
 
 Hon. Mr. Watson Wentworth, father of the first 
 Marquis ; was member for Higham-Ferrers during 
 the reign of Queen Anne, and a liberal benefactor 
 to the poor clergy of the county of York. Married 
 
 Alice, daughter of Sir Thomas Proby. 
 
 Thomas first Marquis of Rockingham, was made 
 knight of the Bath by George I. and advanced to 
 the peerage in the succeeding reign. He rebuilt 
 Wentworth-House. Ob. 1750. 
 
 Lady Proby was daughter to Sir Robert Cotton 
 Bruce, wife to Sir Thomas Proby, and grand- 
 mother to the first Marquis of Rockingham. 
 
 Charles late Marquis of Rockingham, by Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds. 
 
 The museum, as it is appropriately called, is a 
 repository of several valuable antiques, and exqui- 
 site copies of them. Ranged down the sides of 
 the room, are ten columns of light yellow; the 
 pedestals and capitals white marble, each support- 
 ing a bust of the same material. 
 
 Four fine statues by Nollekens, Diana, Venus, 
 funo, and Minerva. A Silenus sitting on a goat, 
 with a bunch of grapes in his right hand; an 
 antique. Bust of Bacchus, crowned with grapes;
 
 [ 220 ] -^ 
 
 antique, but when the arts were low. The emperor 
 Adrian's Wife; a well-preserved antique bust. 
 Egyptian female bust; antique. A Bacchus , ditto. 
 Bust of Nero, ditto. Paris, ditto, not so large as 
 life; the fatal apple in his left hand, which induced 
 the destructive hatred of Juno and Minerva, and 
 the pernicious friendship of Venus ; in a shepherd's 
 dress, and pastoral crook in his right hand. A 
 sitting Jupiter, ditto; grand and majestic, though 
 small. An unknown female bust; antique. 
 Cybele, with a turretted head; ditto. The rape of 
 Ganymede by an eagle; the limbs of the former 
 graceful and delicate. Bust of Bacchus; antique. 
 Cupid and Psyche kissing; ditto. Two fine 
 Centaurs, ditto. Head of Laocoon, a grand bust 
 by Wilton. Antimus, naked; antique, hair not 
 so bushy as usually sculptured. 
 
 Every thing without the mansion is consistent 
 with the magnificence and expence which reign 
 within it. The menagerie and stables, in its im- 
 mediate neighbourhood, are executed upon a 
 princely scale; and the more distant decorations 
 of the extensive park (which embraces one thou- 
 sand six hundred acres within its inclosure) evince 
 the grand conceptions of the noble Marquis under 
 whose directions the whole was principally exe- 
 cuted. To enumerate and analyse the august and
 
 diversified views which are caught from particular 
 parts of the wide domain, would exhaust my powers 
 of description, and fatigue your attention. I 
 should only, indeed, be ringing tiresome changes 
 upon waving woods, fine expanses of water, 
 grand slopes, swelling hills, temples, towers, 
 pyramids, and obelisks; without conveying to your 
 mind one adequate idea of the happy combinations 
 of those different objects, which afford such plea- 
 sure to the eye, whilst contemplating them in na- 
 ture. Let it be sufficient for me, then, to lead 
 you to the chief artificial decoration of Went worth 
 park, the Mausoleum, (of fine free-stone) built by 
 the present Earl Fitzwilliam, in honour of his glo- 
 rious predecessor, the late Marquis of Rocking- 
 ham. It stands on an elevated spot of ground, to 
 the right of the grand entrance into the park from 
 the Rotherham road; is ninety feet high, and con- 
 sists of three divisions. A Doric basement story, 
 square; another above this of the same figure, but 
 of Ionic architecture; each of its four sides open- 
 ing into the form of an arch, and disclosing an 
 elegant sarcophagus standing in the centre. This 
 is surmounted by a cupola, supported by twelve 
 columns of the same order, taking a circular ar- 
 rangement. At each corner of the railing that 
 incloses this superb edifice is an obelisk of great
 
 [ 2 J, 
 
 height. But the most interesting part of it is the 
 interior of the lower story; an apartment rising 
 into a dome, ornamentally stuccoed, and supported 
 by eight pillars, encircling a white marble statue 
 of the late Marquis of Rockingham in his robes, 
 as large as lite, by the admirable chissel of Nolle- 
 kens. This stands on a square pedestal, one side 
 of which is inscribed with the titles of this great 
 man. The remaining three form a noble, but 
 just, tribute to his memory, being dedicated to de- 
 served eulogium, and the effusions of disinterested 
 friendship. The verses and laudatory lines are 
 as follow: 
 
 " Angels, whose guardian care is England, spread 
 
 " Your shadowing wings o'er patriot Wentworth dead: 
 
 " With sacred awe his hallow'd ashes keep, 
 
 " Where commerce, science, honour, friendship, weep 
 
 " The pious hero the deeply-sorrowing wife 
 
 " All the soft tics which blcss'd his virtuous life. 
 
 " Gentle, intrepid, generous, mild, and just; 
 
 " These heartfelt titles graced his honour'd dust. 
 
 " No fields of blood, by laurels ill repaid, 
 
 " No plunder'd proviuces, disturb his shade; 
 
 But white-rob'd Peace compos'd his closing eyes, 
 
 " And join'd with soft Humanity her sighs: 
 
 " They mourn their patron gone, their friend no more, 
 
 " And England's tears his short-liv'd power deplore." 
 
 " A man worthy to be held in remembrance, because he 
 did not live for himself. His abilities, industry, and in- 
 fluencf-v.cn- employed, without interruption, to the last
 
 [ 223 ] 
 
 hour of his life, to give stability to the liberties of his 
 country; security to its landed property; increase to its 
 commerce; independence to its public counsels; and con- 
 cord to its empire. These were his ends. For the attain- 
 ment of these ends., his policy consisted in sincerity, fide- 
 lity, directness, and constancy. In opposition, he respected 
 the principles of government. In administration, he pro- 
 vided for the liberties of the people. He employed his 
 moments of power in realizing every thing which he had 
 professed in a popular situation; the distinguishing mark 
 of his public conduct. Reserved in profession, sure in 
 performance, he laid the foundation of a solid confidence. 
 
 " He far exceeded all other statesmen in the art of 
 drawing together, without the seduction of self-interest, 
 the concurrence and co-operation of various dispositions and 
 abilities of men, whom he assimilated to his character, and 
 associated in his labours. For it was his aim through life 
 to convert party connection, and personal friendship, 
 (which others had rendered subservient only to temporary 
 views and the purposes of ambition) into a lasting depo- 
 sitory of his principles; that their energy should not de- 
 pend upon his life, nor fluctuate with the intrigues of a 
 court, or with capricious fashions amongst the people. 
 But that by securing a succession in support of his maxims, 
 the British constitution might be preserved according to 
 its true genius, on ancient foundations, and institutions of 
 tried utility. 
 
 " The virtues of his private life, and those which he ex- 
 hibited in the service of the state, were not, in him, sepa- 
 rate principles. His private virtues, without any change 
 in their character, expanded with the occasion into en- 
 larged public affections. The very same tender, benevo- 
 lent, feeling, liberal mind, which in the internal relations 
 of life conciliated the genuine love of those who see men
 
 [ 224 ] 
 
 as they are, rendered him an inflexible patriot. He wai 
 devoted to the cause of freedom, not because he was 
 haughty and intractable, but because he was beneficent 
 and humane. 
 
 " A sober, unaffe&ed, unassuming piety, the basis of 
 all true morality, gave truth and permanence to his virtues. 
 
 " He died at a fortunate time, before he could feel, by 
 a decisive proof, that virtue like his, must be nourished 
 from its own substance only, and cannot be assured of any 
 external support. 
 
 " Let his successors, who daily behold this monument, 
 consider that it was not built to entertain the eye, but to 
 instruct the mind ! Let them reflect, that their conduct 
 will make it their glory or their reproach. Let them feel 
 that similarity of manners, not proximity of blood, gives 
 them an interest in this statue. 
 
 " Remember j resemble j persevere." 
 
 In four recesses in the wall of this apartment 
 within the pillars, are eight white marble busts, 
 placed in the following order: To the right of the 
 entrance, in the first niche, are Edmund Burke and 
 the Duke of Portland; in the second, Frederic 
 Montague and Sir George Saville; in the third, 
 Charles Fox and Admiral Keppel; in the fourth, 
 Lord J. Cavendish and John Lee. From this 
 sumptuous edifice a good idea may be formed of 
 Wcntworth demesne. A boundless prospect of 
 the richest part of England lies open to the eye, 
 infinitely diversified; the grandest feature of which 
 is the park. The woods, the water, the tower,
 
 [ 225 ] 
 
 the pyramid, and the house, all fall into the picture; 
 and present a scene in which it is difficult to say 
 whether the beauty of nature, the efforts of art, or 
 the operations of taste, are to be most admired. 
 Viewing Wentworth home grounds and mansion 
 from hence, we had no hesitation in pronouncing 
 it to be the finest place we had ever seen. 
 
 Pursuing our interesting ride for nine miles 
 through a continuation of that fertile country 
 which marks this division of Yorkshire for the 
 paradise of England, we reached the park of Went- 
 worth-Castle, the seat of the late Earl of Strafford. 
 The grounds, which have every advantage that 
 nature could give them, in agreeable undulations, 
 and " solemn midnight groves," are injured in 
 the injudicious attempt to add a beauty to them by 
 artificial trifles; such as made ruins, Chinese tem- 
 ples, &c. A view of uncommon beauty over the 
 lawn is caught from the portico of the principal 
 front, a most elegant specimen of ornamental archi- 
 tecture. The hall, a room forty feet square, pre- 
 sented us with a portrait of 
 
 Thomas third Earl ef Strafford, a distinguished 
 favourite of William III. to whom he proved of 
 signal service in his campaigns in Flanders. On 
 the accession of Queen Anne, he was appointed 
 ambassador extraordinary to the Court of Berlin,
 
 [ 226 ] 
 
 and afterwards went in the same character to the 
 States-General; from whence he removed to assist 
 in concluding the peace at Utrecht. Soon after 
 the arrival of George I. in England, he was re- 
 moved from all official situations; but such was 
 the estimation in which he was held by the Hol- 
 landers, that on quitting the Hague, he was pre- 
 sented with a gold medal and chain worth 6000 
 gilders. Obiit 1739. 
 
 A curious picture containing three crowned per- 
 sonages, Frederick first King of Prussia, Augustus 
 of Poland, and Frederick of Denmark, dancing. 
 This picture was presented to the above ambassa- 
 dor, to perpetuate the remembrance of a fete given 
 by him at Berlin A. D. 1705, at which these royal 
 personages, with the Queen of Prussia, assisted. 
 
 Mary Princess of Orange, daughter of James II. 
 and Queen of William III. It is a curious fact, 
 that even after James had forfeited all pretensions 
 to the throne, yet so unwilling were the people to 
 adopt any one who might appear like a deviation 
 from the regular line of hereditary succession, that 
 it was at first determined to place the crown on the 
 head of Mary, and not of William. Obiit 1 694, 
 iEt. 33. Vandyck. 
 
 Thomas Earl of Strafford on horseback. Four 
 Views of Rome, by Carnialetti.
 
 [ 227 ] 
 
 The ceiling is painted with the story of Endy- 
 mion and Morpheus, by Amicini. 
 
 In the Gentleman 's dressing-room, is 
 
 Sophia Eleclress of Hanover, daughter of Eliza- 
 beth of Bohemia, and mother of George L 
 
 In the state bedchamber we find, 
 
 Lady Eleanor Brandon, daughter of Charles 
 Duke of Suffolk by Mary sister of Henry VIII. 
 and wife of Henry Clifford second Earl of Cum- 
 berland; by Lucas de la Heere. 
 
 In the Lady's dressing-room are, 
 
 The Judgment of Paris, and the Death of Dido; 
 two fine pieces by Carlo Maratti. 
 
 Sir Philip Sidney; whole length; black breeches, 
 stockings, and cloak, white satin doublet and bows; 
 a fine pi&ure. The reign of Elizabeth furnishes a 
 copious catalogue of illustrious personages, who 
 appear emulously striving to excel each other in 
 deeds of great and fair renown ; and by more than 
 one historian has the palm been adjudged to Sidney, 
 who was alike conspicuous in the tilt-yard and 
 field of battle, in the cabinet and the closet. His 
 name appears in several lists of tournaments, and 
 his valour was displayed in Flanders. His conduft, 
 whilst ambassador to the court of Germany, was 
 so exemplary, that the Poles offered to elect him 
 king; his poetry and prose were both in higher and 
 
 vol. i. cl 

 
 [ 228 ] 
 
 longer estimation than most contemporary works. 
 But the proudest aft of his life may be found at its 
 close: having received a mortal wound at the bat- 
 tle of Zutphen, and being nearly exhausted with 
 pain and excessive bleeding, he obtained some drink, 
 and was in the acl: of lifting it to his mouth, when 
 a poor soldier (whom they were removing from the 
 field desperately wounded) fixed his anxious eyes 
 upon the bottle; which the hero instantly delivered 
 to him, saying, " Thy necessity is still greater than 
 "mine." Obiit 1586. 
 
 In the best drawing-room: 
 
 Diana and Aftaon ; a very fine picture by Tellan. 
 Action's emotions of astonishment and delight at 
 the unexpected scene before him, admirably expres- 
 sed; as well as the smile of Diana, speaking mis- 
 chief. Her hand lifted up has almost the substance 
 and spirit of life. Westminster- Bridge, and two 
 Sea-pieces, by Botart. 
 
 Over the chimney, David with Goliab's Hcad y 
 by Carlo Maratti. Great ease in the posture and 
 limbs of David, who is reposing after the conflict. 
 
 Two sheep-pieces', by Rosa de Tivoli. 
 
 In the dining-room: 
 
 Lord Strafford and his Secretary. There has 
 been a dispute, which of the two pictures, that at 
 Wcntworth-I louse, or the one before us, was the
 
 [ 229 ] 
 
 original by Vandyck. They are both extremely 
 fine, but we are inclined to prefer the former; 
 though it is probable they were both from the pen- 
 cil of this great master. 
 
 Lady Ann Campbell Countess of Strafford. 
 Anne daughter of Sir John Wentworth of Gorsfield, 
 wife of Thomas Lord Wentworth deputy of Ca- 
 lais, and her three children, i . William, who mar- 
 ried Elizabeth, daughter of William Lord Burleigh, 
 and died without issue. 2. Henry Lord Wentworth, 
 who married Anne Hopton, and was father of 
 Thomas Earl of Cleveland. 3. Elizabeth, who 
 married William, son of Sir Francis Hynde, of 
 Madingly, ancestor of Sir John Hynde Cotton. 
 
 Margaret Lucas Duchess of Newcastle; by Lely. 
 She was sister of the first Lord Lucas, and wife to 
 William Cavendish Duke of Newcastle. When 
 the merits of a writer shall be decided upon in pro- 
 portion to the quantity of his works, then will her 
 Grace have pre-eminent title to a niche in the tem- 
 ple of fame; having produced no less than thirteen 
 folio volumes of plays and poems. Obiit 1 673. 
 
 Peter the Great; whole length, by Amecone. 
 He is clothed in uniform, with large boots on; the 
 Imperial mantle over his shoulder, and a truncheon 
 in his hand. His countenance is intelligent, and 
 bespeaks the legislator, philosopher, and hero. .
 
 [ 230 ] 
 
 The gallery is a noble room, one hundred and 
 sixty feet long, thirty wide, and twenty-four high. 
 A small division is formed at each end, by two co- 
 lumns of grey marble, with gilt capitals, and as 
 many statues in white marble (casts from antiques^ 
 between them. At the one end Apollo Vaticanus, 
 and an Egyptian priestess; at the other, Antindus, 
 and Ceres. Here we find the following noble col- 
 lection of pictures: 
 
 Seven pieces, representing the Duke of Marlbo- 
 rough's Battles. Consolation of the Virgin', by C. 
 Maratti. Gipsies telling fortunes; byEspagnoletto: 
 of uncommon merit; the professional countenance 
 of the fortune-teller, in which cunning and roguery 
 are strongly expressed, particularly good. Holy 
 Family; by Carlo Maratti. Apollo crowning merit; 
 a copy from Guido. Holy Family; a copy from 
 Raphael. View of Venice; by Carmoletti. Two 
 Battle-pieces; by Berghem. A Miracle of St, 
 Paul; by Carlo Maratti. A Female; by ditto. 
 Carlo Maratti; by himself. A Man and his two 
 Wives; by ditto. Gamesters ; by Espagnoletto. 
 Three fine figures; the simplicity of the pigeon, 
 and the professional sagacity of the gamester, well 
 managed. Christ in the Garden; by C. Maratti. 
 John in the Wilderness; by Espagnoletto. 
 Charles I. on horseback; by Vandyck. gueenAnne;
 
 [ 231 ] 
 
 Lady Strafford; and Thomas, second Earl of Straf- 
 ford; all by Kneller; Charles I. and the Duke 
 of Hamilton; a most superb picture, whole length, 
 by Vandyck. 
 
 James Duke of Monmouth. His connexion with 
 Lady Henrietta Wentworth, is subject of notoriety ; 
 and whilst we are obliged to condemn the vices of . 
 the man, we cannot avoid admiring the magnani- 
 mity of the lover, who on the scaffold refused to 
 confess any thing against the honour of his mistress. 
 It is a singular fact, that when about to atone for 
 all his worldly crimes, he felt the edge of the axe, 
 feared it was not sharp enough, and desired that 
 he might not experience Lord Russel's lingering 
 treatment from an unskilful executioner; which, 
 however, was his fate, his head only being severed 
 from his body by the fifth stroke. 
 
 William III. whole length. Thomas first Earl of 
 Strafford, and his Dog; whole length, by Vandyck. 
 
 Charles Xllth of Sweden, in the dress he wore 
 at Albranstadt in Saxony 1704; blue uniform, and 
 large military gloves ; high large forehead, aquiline 
 nose, penetrating eye, and light brown hair turned 
 back. He was one of those monarchs chiefly 
 famed for the wars in which they have embroiled 
 their subjects. This sovereign (who is described 
 as bold, intrepid, and magnanimous) is rather to be
 
 [ 232 ] 
 
 held up as an objeft of wonder than imitation. He 
 was killed by a random shot, at the siege of Fre- 
 dericshall, 1718. JEt. 37. 
 
 Lady Margaret Lovelace, and Richard Lord 
 Lovelace-, ob. 1634. So says the catalogue; but 
 I imagine them to be the portraits of John Lord 
 Lovelace of Hurley, so created by Charles I. in 
 1627, and his wife Anne Baroness Wentworth of 
 Nettlested. Independent of this family connexion 
 with John, I am encouraged to favour this opinion, 
 because the title never was enjoyed by a Richard 
 Lovelace. Thomas Lord Wentworth of Nettlested, 
 chamberlain of the houshold to Fdward VI. Ob. 
 1557. Miss Wentworth, one of the seventeen 
 children of Thomas Lord Wentworth. Edward 
 VI. a coarse original. 
 
 In Lady Strafford's dressing-room: 
 
 John Campbell Duke of Ar gyle; father of Anne 
 Countess of Strafford. Obiit 1 743. 
 
 In Lord Strafford's dressing-room : 
 
 First Earl of Strafford. Pier cy Earl of Thomond, 
 brother to Charles first Earl of Egremont; he suc- 
 ceeded to the estate of Henry O'Brien Earl of 
 Thomond, who had married his mother's eldest 
 sister; created Earl of Thomond 1754, ob. 1774* 
 Lady Betty Mackenzie, sister to Anne Countess 
 of Strafford; married James Stewart Mackenzie,
 
 [ 233 ] 
 
 brother to John Earl of Bute. Lady Charlotte 
 Boyle, Marchioness of Hartington; she was sole 
 heiress to Richard Earl of Burlington and wife of 
 William Marquis of Harrington ; who succeeded 
 his father as Duke of Devonshire, 1755. Lady 
 Henrietta Vernon, daughter of Earl Strafford, the 
 ambassador, and wife of James Vernon, esq; ob. 
 1786. John Duke of Marlborough. John Mar- 
 quis of Lorn. Lord Cathcart. Voltaire. John 
 Campbell. Marquis of Rockingham. Countess of 
 Strafford. Francis Earl of Dalkeith ; married Ca- 
 roline, eldest sister of Anne Countess of Strafford. 
 Ob. 1750. William second Earl of Strafford. 
 Dorothea late Duchess of Portland; sister to the 
 present Duke of Devonshire, and wife to the pre- 
 sent Duke of Portland; ob. 1794. Lady Mary 
 Coke, youngest sister to Anne Countess of Strafford, 
 and wife of Edw. Viscount Coke. Second Countess 
 of Strafford. Mary Duchess of Norfolk. 
 
 In the library: 
 
 Duke of Devonshire. It is rather a singular 
 circumstance, that since the year 161 8, when this 
 title was conferred on the Cavendishes, it has 
 uniformly been held by a William. Lady Lucy 
 Howard, wife of Sir G. Howard; Lady Henrietta 
 Vernon ; Lady Ann Connolly; three daughters of 
 Thomas Earl of Strafford, the ambassador. William
 
 [ 234- ] 
 
 Earl of Strafford; married Henrietta, 2d daughter 
 of James Earl of Derby. Sir George Wentworth, 
 brother of Thomas first Earl of Strafford. 
 
 In the little library : 
 
 The third Countess of Strafford, 
 
 In the s upper -rooni : 
 
 Sir Thomas Wentworth. Thomas Earl of Straf 
 ford; ob. 1739; married Anne, sole heiress of S ir 
 Henry Johnson, of Bradenham, Bucks. 
 
 The quadrangular building called the Castle, built 
 by Thomas Earl of Strafford in 1730, placed upon 
 the scite of an ancient fortress, is heavy and taste- 
 less. A good marble statue of this nobleman, by 
 Ruysbrack, stands in the centre of its area, but is 
 much injured by time and neglect. The obelisk 
 erected to the memory of Lady Mary Wortley 
 Montague has also to complain of the same ene- 
 mies; and were her ladyship's memory to rest only 
 upon the inscription in Wentworth park, she would 
 add one to the many examples of the evanescence 
 of human fame, by speedily sinking into oblivion. 
 We were soon relieved, however, from the melan- 
 choly contemplation of the temporary duration and 
 instability of that which mortals take such uncea- 
 sing pains to procure, " the vain breath of a mis- 
 " judging world," by the bustle of trade, and the 
 noise of manufactories, as weapproachedandentered
 
 [ 235 J 
 
 black Barnsley; as it is appropriately called, from 
 its being situated amid the smoke of engines, and 
 the dingy dust of coal-works. 
 
 The clothing country now commenced, and the 
 little villages that occurrred between this place and 
 Wakefield, were busied in some branch of that ex- 
 tensive woollen manufacture which has thrown such 
 inexhaustible wealth into Yorkshire; cloathed its 
 hills with fatness; and filled its broad vales with 
 houses and population. But in attending to the 
 operations of present industry, we were not forget- 
 ful of the remains of ancient grandeur; and left the 
 road a mile to the south of Wakefield, to take a 
 passing look at the ruins of Sandall-Castle, built 
 by one of the Earls Warren, in the thirteenth 
 century. It afterwards became the residence of 
 Edward Baliol, who passed here those anxious 
 hours of suspence which elapsed whilst Edward III. 
 was raising an army to re-establish him on the throne 
 of his fathers ; a troublesome possession, which he 
 was afterwards as glad to relinquish to his royal 
 friend, as he had been desirous of obtaining it. 
 In the reign of Henry VI. it afforded less auspici- 
 ous shelter to the unfortunate Duke of York, who 
 had appointed Sandall-Castle as the rendezvous 
 of his army. Margaret, however, ever prompt 
 and active, reached the spot with her troops before
 
 [ 236 ] 
 
 his forces could muster there, and threatening a 
 siege, compelled him to a battle. Shakespeare has 
 faithfully delineated York's character, when he 
 makes him despise the great inequality of the 
 numbers which were opposed to each other on 
 the occasion: 
 
 " Five men to twenty ! though the odds be great, 
 
 " I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. 
 
 " Many a battle have I won in France, 
 
 " When as the enemy hath been ten to one; 
 
 " Why should I not now have the like success?" 
 
 But the event did not justify his confidence. The 
 Yorkists were routed, the Duke killed, and the 
 castle taken. On the spot where the Duke fell, 
 a stone memorial was erected, after the discomfi- 
 ture of the Queen's party, and continued there till 
 the civil wars in the seventeenth century, when it 
 was removed. The ruins are picturesque, but not 
 extensive; and evince that the situation must have 
 been strong, before the destructive effects of gun- 
 powder were known. 
 
 Opposed to this pleasing object, and its sur- 
 rounding scenery on the left, was a more magnifi- 
 cent landscape to the right the village of Hc.it h, 
 with its many noble mansions reposing upon the 
 side of hill, which swelled gently out of a rich 
 valley, watered by the river Calder. The bridge
 
 [ 237 ] 
 
 thrown across the Calder, that conduced us into 
 Wakefield, offers a beautiful specimen of Gothic 
 architecture in a little chapel highly charged with 
 sculptured ornaments, and vulgarly said to have 
 been built by Edward IV. in memory of his unfor- 
 tunate father; but known to have existed seventy 
 years previously to his reign. Its ecclesiastical uses 
 expired with masses and obits at the Reformation, 
 and it now serves the purpose of a warehouse. 
 
 The town of Wakefield is laid out in several 
 handsome streets, and ornamented with a magni- 
 ficent Gothic church. Great wealth has been 
 thrown into it by the woollen trade; an affluence 
 which is seen in its large proportion of respectable 
 private mansions. The business of the common 
 weekly markets of Thursday and Friday is chiefly 
 the sale of this article by the factors, to whom it 
 is consigned from all parts of England, and the pur- 
 chase of it by the manufacturers of the neighbour- 
 ing clothing country. A large cattle fair every 
 fortnight supplies provision, in a great measure, to 
 the bordering counties of Cheshire and Lancashire. 
 Though some of the white cloths, the production 
 of the Yorkshire manufactories, be sold at Wake- 
 field, yet by far the greatest part find a market at 
 Leeds, nine miles further to the north, a town ris- 
 ing into the first importance in point of internal
 
 [ 238 ] 
 
 commerce; chiefly owing to its advantageous 
 centrical situation, and partly to the spirit of the 
 inhabitants, which, however, may be considered 
 as much an effect as a cause. Several instances 
 were pointed out to us of successful industry, in 
 persons who from journeymen had arisen to princely 
 independence; a proof at once of the profits and 
 extent of the cloth trade in these parts. The ad- 
 vantages winch have resulted to the town of Leeds 
 in particular from this branch of English manu- 
 factures, may be readily imagined from the increase 
 it has experienced in population within these twenty- 
 five years. This, in 1775, amounted to seventeen 
 thousand one hundred and seventeen ; and in 1 800, 
 to thirty thousand, exclusive often thousand in the 
 two adjoining parishes. 
 
 The most curious feature of this place is its 
 markets for mixed and white cloths, which are 
 held every Tuesday and Saturday for the fonner, 
 and every Saturday for the latter, in large halls 
 erected for the purpose: the one for mixed cloths, 
 a quadrangular building one hundred and twenty- 
 seven yards and half long and sixty-six broad; the 
 other of the same form, but different dimensions, 
 ninety-nine yards long and seventy broad. Here 
 the cloths are exposed for sale in their rough state, 
 as they are delivered from the fulling-mill. The
 
 [ 939 ] 
 
 merchants, who are the purchasers, have them 
 dressed, dyed, and pressed, for the retail dealers. 
 
 The progress of good sense, and gradual growth 
 of notions of utility, within this last century, are 
 marked by the successive improvements which have 
 taken place in the mode of selling this valuable 
 article. One hundred and twenty years ago the 
 mixed cloths were exposed for sale upon the un- 
 sheltered battlements of the Aire bridge, open to 
 all the inclemency of the weather, and all the dirt 
 and injuries of passing carriages. It required nearly 
 fifty years to convince the fa&ors of the absurdity 
 of this system, when the matter was but little 
 mended by carrying the article into Brigge-street, 
 and offering it to the merchant, spread on tem- 
 porary stalls. In 1758, however, the trade had 
 acquired wisdom enough to reform their plan al- 
 together; the mixed cloth hall was built at the 
 expence of the manufacturers; and about seventeen 
 years afterwards, another for the white cloths 
 upon a similar plan. 
 
 Nothing can be more judicious, convenient, or 
 systematic, than the arrangement of the wares, 
 and the regulations of the sellers, in these recepta- 
 cles. The larger or mixed cloth hall is laid out 
 into six aisles, each containing two rows of stalls, 
 amounting in all to one thousand seven hundred
 
 [ 240 { ] 
 
 and seventy; every one of which is twenty-two 
 inches in front, and is the freehold property of the 
 manufacturer who occupies it, who can transfer it to 
 any other manufacturer, (at a premium of about 
 1 61.) provided he have served a regular apprentice- 
 ship to the making of mixed cloth; without which 
 service no one can be admitted. The white cloth 
 hall contains one thousand two hundred and ten 
 stands, upon the same plan as the other. The hour 
 of sale in the mixed cloth hall is from half-past eight 
 to half-past nine ; in thewhite cloth ditto from a 
 quarter before ten to aquarter before eleven. 
 
 But exclusive of the cloth trade, Leeds is brought 
 upon a par with our first commercial towns by se- 
 veral other considerable manufactories. One for 
 the making of sail-cloth employs nearly eighteen 
 hundred people. The cotton-mill, belonging to 
 Messrs. Coupland, Wilkinson, and Coupland, 
 is a concern of great extent; its grand and compli- 
 cated operations, carried on by the power of one 
 vast steam-engine, built by Mr. Murray, of Leeds, 
 performing the work of forty horses, by machinery 
 as beautiful and neat as that of a watch. Potteries 
 and carpet manufactories also contribute to increase 
 the riches of the town, whose advantages are ren- 
 dered incalculable by rivers and canals, and inex- 
 haustible mines of admirable coals on every side.
 
 [ 241 ] 
 
 The promise of a pi&uresque ruin led us to 
 Kirkstall- Abbey, about three miles from Leeds 
 a little deviation from our road, which amply re- 
 paid our trouble. Ascending to the summit of 
 Kirkstall hill, the rich vale in which these remains 
 are situated, watered by the winding river Aire, 
 darkened by deep and lofty woods, and grandly 
 backed by distant hills, opened to us at once a 
 scene of uncommon beauty. The detail of the 
 abbey is equally interesting to the antiquary, as its 
 cathedral presents the compleatest example (as far 
 as it goes) of the architecture of the 1 2 th century, 
 of any in the kingdom. The design is plain, neat, 
 and uniform ; the Saracenic arch inclosing the Saxon 
 one at the western end points out that its ere&ion 
 was previous to the discontinuance of the Anglo- 
 Norman style. Henry de Lacy founded it in 1 1 57, 
 and filled it with Cistercians, whose demesnes were 
 valued at the Reformation at 329I. 2s. 1 id. 
 
 As our object was to see every thing that Art 
 or Nature presented worth observation within the 
 limits of our tour, we were led to visit Harewood- 
 House, nine miles from Leeds, the seat of Edward 
 Lord Harewood, a magnificent stone mansion, built 
 by the late lord, in 1760; judiciously situated on 
 the slope of a hill, which gives it a view over a park 
 rather pleasing than grand. But nothing within
 
 [ 242 2 
 
 interests the mind; no productions of the arts, un- 
 less indeed the labours of the gilder and upholsterer 
 may be considered as deserving that character. 
 Rich hangings and fine furniture may catch the gaze 
 and captivate the fancy of the multitude, but taste 
 and sensibility require some other food, and turn 
 away with satiety from the glitter of golden cor- 
 nices and the lustre of satin hangings. They will be 
 more gratified in visiting the little ancient church, 
 uniform and neat, half embosomed in a clump of 
 trees in the park, and containing six table monu- 
 ments, each crowned with two cumbent figures. 
 Here we find the upright Judge, Sir William 
 Gascoigne, chief justice of the Court of King's- 
 Bench, whose spirited conduct in refusing to obey 
 the commands of Henry IV. and bring Archbishop 
 Scroop to trial for treason, and whose coolness 
 and intrepidity in committing the Prince of Wales 
 to prison for interrupting the regular course of 
 justice, are well authenticated in the early chroni- 
 cles, and highly deserving our admiration. The 
 last fact has been admirably worked up by Shakes- 
 peare in the second part of Henry IV. ; where he 
 not only pourtrays the virtuous independency of 
 the Judge, but exhibits, in striking colours, the 
 wisdom of a Prince, who loved the law, and was 
 content to rule within its bounds.
 
 [ 243 ] 
 
 Sir Richard Redman's tomb lies next, and ex- 
 hibits the effigies of himself (a knight, and lord of 
 Harewood-Castle) and his Lady Elizabeth, daugh- 
 ter of Sir William Aldburgh, of Harewood. They 
 lived in the reign of Henry VL 
 
 Sir William Ryther, knight , and Sybil his ivife> 
 repose beneath a third monument; the latter an- 
 other daughter of Sir William Aldburgh. This 
 is of the age of the former one. 
 
 Our attention was then dire&ed to the tomb of 
 Sir Richard Redman, knt. grandson of the above- 
 named Sir Richard, and his Lady Elizabeth, daugh- 
 ter of Sir William Gascoigne, of Gawthorpe, knt. 
 
 Adjoining to this is the tomb of Sir John Neville ', 
 of Womersley, knight, who died in 1482, and 
 left one daughter, the wife of the renowned Sir 
 William Gascoigne. 
 
 A sixth ancient tomb contains the ashes of Sir 
 Richard Franks, knt. of the manor of Harewood. 
 
 Attached to the wall is the tomb of Sir Thomas 
 Denis on, knight, who died one of the judges of 
 the King's-Bench in 1 y6$. The epitaph is said to 
 have been written by the late Lord Mansfield, and 
 pays a handsome complimentary tribute to the in- 
 dependence and undaunted respect for the laws, 
 which his great predecessor Sir William Gas- 
 coygne exhibited. 
 
 vol. 1. R
 
 [ 244 ] 
 
 The ancient Norman castle of Harewood, that 
 stood a few hundred yards from the modern man- 
 sion, was more remarkable for beauty of situation 
 than strength. Its remains form a pleasing ruin, 
 rearing their ivy-mantled walls from the broad de- 
 clivity of a hill, which overlooks the wide vale 
 watered by the river Wharfe. Its history is buried 
 in the darkness of past ages; 
 
 " It has no name, no honourable note, 
 " No chronicle of all its warlike pride, 
 " To testify what once it was; how great, 
 ** How glorious, and how fear'd." 
 
 Its founder is unknown; and all that can be ga- 
 thered of its history, is a barren list of the names 
 of the families which successively possessed it, till 
 its demolition by the Parliamentarian forces in the 
 civil wars: its lords have been the De Gourdes, the 
 Fitz-alans, and the De Redvers. We extended 
 our walk for half a mile beyond the castle, to visit 
 the spot which had given occasion to one of the 
 most beautiful dramatic compositions in our lan- 
 guage^ the play of * Elfrida,' by Mr. Mason; who 
 sacrificing historical truth to effeft, has converted 
 the perfidious wife of Athelwold into an angel of 
 light, and fascinated us with a bewitching picture 
 of ideal truth and constancy. The spot in which
 
 [ 245 ] 
 
 Athelwold revenged the perfidy of his favourite, 
 
 is, as the poet describes it, 
 
 " A darkling dell, which opens in a lawn, 
 " Thick set with elm around," 
 
 and is pointed out by tradition as the scene of the 
 murder in 963. 
 
 Yorkshire now began to lose its natural beauties 
 and artificial adornments. We had left the clothing 
 country, and its numerous villages peopled by the 
 happy race of manufacturers, who, remote from 
 the contamination of large towns, pass their hours 
 in industry and innocence, unenslaved by those 
 vices which are too often found to result from the 
 association of numbers in one place. The proudly 
 wooded hills, and broad expanse of fertile vale, 
 had also disappeared; and an uninteresting face of 
 nature introduced itself in the room of these grand 
 and impressive objects. 
 
 In the midst of this scenery, Harrogate is situ- 
 ated, eight miles from Leeds; and though this 
 town have divided itself into two parts, the higher 
 and the lower the former seated upon a high flat, 
 the other spread over a bottom yet neither has 
 any claim to the picturesque. A line air, and an 
 extensive view, wh'ch commands York Minster, 
 and other objects, at twenty miles distance, may re- 
 commend High Harrogate to the visitor; but its
 
 [ 246 ] 
 
 relation in the bottom has no attraction, except for 
 those who are condemned to drink its intolerable 
 sulphuric waters, which offend both smell and 
 taste in the highest degree. Three or four inns, 
 or lodging-houses, and about one dozen of wretched 
 shops, compose the upper town; and here are found 
 the chalybiate springs, the old spa, and Pewit 
 well. As many public inns, and a few private 
 lodging-houses, form the lower town; which con- 
 tains also the sulphur wells and a newly-discovered 
 chalybeate spring, to which the proprietor has 
 given the name of the Crescent Spring. We found 
 the regular charges high, and the extraordinary 
 ones imposing, at this place; which certainly would 
 have but few attractions for any except the victims 
 of disease, did not the distorted eye of fashion 
 sometimes see beauty in the very bosom of defor- 
 mity. The terms of lodging and boarding are, a 
 private bed-chamber and parlour 1 1. is. per week ; 
 breakfast, dinner, and supper, 6s. per day. Ser- 
 vants, il. is. per week. 
 
 The approach to Knaresborough, from the Har- 
 rogate road, is by a bridge thrown over the little 
 romantic river Nid, from whose battlements a 
 beautiful and singular picture was laid before us, 
 both above and below. Turning the eye up the 
 stream, we caught a small reach of it, playing
 
 [247 J 
 
 through verdant meadows, terminated by the ri- 
 sing grounds of Lady Cunningham's park, and 
 overlooked by her modern elegant mansion. Be- 
 low the bridge, the rocky banks shoot up into pre- 
 cipitous eminences, at the feet and on the sides 
 and slope of which part of the town is built; 
 blending together a curious association of rock, 
 water, wood, and human dwellings. A very plea- 
 sing and retired walk, called the long walk, winds 
 through the wood that clothes the steep declivity 
 on the south side of the river; following whose 
 meanders for half a mile, we were conduced to the 
 old bridge, at the foot of which is a public-house, 
 called the Mother Shipfon, said to be the mansion 
 where this old lady, so renowned in English necro- 
 mancy, drew her first breath in the year 1488. 
 The following lines of invitation over the door of 
 this hospititim, invited us to apply to the landlord, 
 who is entrusted with the key of the walk, for a 
 sight of that curious natural phcenomenon, the 
 petrifying well: 
 
 " Come, gentle reader, turn this way, 
 " Pass on the walk, the rock survey ; 
 " There Mother Shipton keeps her cell, 
 " Hard by the fascinating well." 
 
 Led by our ciceroni to the banks of the Nid, we 
 saw a vast mass of petrified vegetable matter pro-
 
 [ 248 ] 
 
 jec"ting fifteen feet from the face of the rock, and 
 eighteen yards high, beetling over a small pool, and 
 distilling into it from every part a thousand little 
 streams, which give the surprising quantity of 
 eighteen gallons in a minute. This water is so 
 laden with calcareous matter, that whatever is ex- 
 posed to its action becomes covered with a stony 
 incrustation in the course of eight months, and 
 assumes the appearance of a petrifaction; a conver- 
 sion by which old hats, wigs, birdVnests, &c. are 
 made a source of some profit to the man who has 
 the custody of the well. The spring that effects 
 this transformation rises in a bed of stiff clay, fifty 
 yards from the brow of the rock ; but exhibits no- 
 thing of its petrifying quality, till it have percolated 
 the lime-stone rock for about thirty yards, during 
 which course it picks up the particles that it after- 
 wards very conscientiously deposits again upon its 
 front. Near the pool the little museum of the 
 ciceroni is seen, the curious repository of his col- 
 lection of incrustations, over the door of which an 
 inscription explains the horrible figure of Mother 
 Shipton, the Yorkshire Sybil, within: 
 
 " Mark well this grot, don't miss the place, 
 " Nor startle at her haggard face; 
 "As you are come to see the well, 
 *' Pray take a peep into the cell."
 
 [ 249 ] 
 
 From this walk we had to the greatest advantage 
 the ruins of Knaresborough- Castle on the opposite 
 bank, unassociated with modern houses, which in- 
 troduce themselves at every other point of view; 
 the church too assumed a beautiful situation, and 
 the southern part of the town, hanging amongst 
 the rocks, was very picturesque. But little of 
 the castle remains, though in its day it was 
 much connected with the historical events of the 
 kingdom. Serlo de Burgh founded it in the early 
 Norman times, whose descendant transferred it to 
 the Estotevilles. A connection of this house by 
 marriage, concerned in the perpetration of that 
 sacrilegious act, the murder of Becket at the altar, 
 made Knaresborough-Castle the safe retreat of him- 
 self and his accessaries for one year, and having 
 defied the royal power, was only reduced to obe- 
 dience and repentance by the authority of the 
 church. The crown now became possessed of it, 
 and granted it occasionally to favoured sub- 
 jects, Hubert de Burgh^ Piers de Gaveston, and 
 John of Gaunt. It then re-echoed the sighs of a 
 captive monarch, Richard II. for whom it was 
 made an intermediate prison between Leeds and 
 Pomfret-Castle, the scene of his death. But after 
 having served this republican purpose, its proud 
 head was doomed to experience the ingratitude of
 
 [ 250 ] 
 
 the friends of the levelling system, and to fall under 
 the desolating hand of Lilburne, the Parliamen- 
 tarian commander. 
 
 Returning over the old bridge, we visited the 
 chapel of St. Robert, a hermit in Richard Ist's 
 time, who, with an industry we cannot but admire, 
 at the same time that we lament its wrong direc- 
 tion, excavated an apartment in the face of a high 
 rock, nearly perpendicular, twelve feet long, nine 
 wide, and eight high, adorning its roof with Gothic 
 decorations, and its sides with an altar, recesses, 
 and other sculptural representations. A knight- 
 templar, carved in the rock, stands near the door 
 of this little retreat, whose front shaded by ivy, 
 sprinkled with lichens, and corroded with age, 
 would be a very pretty object in a picture, if accom- 
 panied with a few fanciful appendages. Above 
 this chapel, upon the same lofty rock which hangs 
 over the margin of the river, is the hermitage; 
 and further up the ascent Mon'agu fort, another 
 excavation, the work of a poor man and his son, 
 living chiefly by the precarious profits arising 
 from the curiosity of travellers, who are led to sur- 
 vey this example of modern labour. The view 
 from hence is rather extraordinary than beautiful, 
 being a bird's-eye one over a scene of the most 
 singular nature.
 
 [ 251 ] 
 
 The woman who shews the chapel, indulged us 
 with a sight more remarkable than even the resi- 
 dence of St. Robert her own son William Smith, 
 a boy about 1 2 years old, whose hair may be con- 
 sidered as a great natural phenomenon. The tex- 
 ture of it somewhat resembles the finest wool, but 
 in spite of this softness and delicacy, it stands pro- 
 jecting from his head like the nimbus around that 
 of a saint, or the ' quills upon the fretful porcupine.' 
 The quantity is prodigious ; but the wonder of it 
 has much lessened with the increase of the child's 
 size, as the hair does not appear to keep pace with 
 the expansion of his body. He must have been the 
 most whimsical figure imaginable at half a year old, 
 when this natural appendage to the human head 
 suddenly grew to its present voluminous mass. 
 
 As we entered Borough-Bridge, we left our ve- 
 hicle and stepped into a meadow to the left hand, a 
 few hundred yards from the road, attracted by three 
 rude stone pillars, which range themselves parallel 
 to the turnpike in nearly a strait line. They are 
 called the Devil's arrows, and supposed, with great 
 probability, to be Druidical. The southern pillar 
 is five feet square at the base, twenty-four feet 
 high, and one hundred and sixteen paces from the 
 centre one, which is of nearly equal bulk, but 
 stands a little out of the right line. The northern
 
 [ 252 ] 
 
 one is almost eighteen feet high, and has been cal- 
 culated to weigh thirty-five tons. The middle and 
 southern pillars are upwards of twenty-two feet 
 high, and supposed to weigh thirty tons each. 
 
 From these remains of high and rude anti- 
 quity, we hastened on to Newby-Park, the seat 
 of the Right Hon. Weddell Robinson Lord 
 Grantham; passing through Borough-Bridge, the 
 hurium Brigantum of the Romans, and the scene 
 of the battle between the forces of Edward II. and 
 those of the confederated Barons in the year 1 3 2 1 , 
 when the ill-starred Thomas of Lancaster was 
 made prisoner. His execution at Pomfret speedily 
 followed. An agreeable ride of three miles carried 
 us from this place to his lordship's house, built of 
 brick the beginning of the last century, situated on 
 the eastern bank of the river Aire, in a fertile flat, 
 surrounded by most agreeable pastoral and sylvan 
 scenery. All without the house, the walks, and 
 shrubberies, and avenues, are of a piece and con- 
 gruous; and shew the correctness of that taste 
 which is again discovered on a less scale, but in an 
 equal degree, within the house, in die nature and 
 arrangement of its ornaments. 
 
 In the hall, exclusive of a fine organ, are A grand 
 cattle-piece, with Cows and Sheep, by Rosa da 
 Tivoli. 67. Margaret, by H. Carracci. A large
 
 [ 253 ] 
 
 table, inlaid with one hundred and seventy-one spe- 
 cimens of ancient and modern marble; and two 
 others of Egyptian granite. 
 
 In the breakfast-room are the portraits of 
 Thomas first Lord Grantham, grandfather of the 
 present noble possessor; of Thomas , his father; 
 and of the late William Weddell, esq; (painted 
 at Rome) contemplating the statue of a dying 
 Cleopatra; a subject that points out his classical 
 turn, at the same time that his countenance marks 
 a mind peculiarly adapted for the pursuit of every 
 thing connected with elegance and taste, arts and 
 letters. Lady Grantham-, grandmother to the 
 present Lord. The chimney and slab are formed 
 from blocks of curious Egyptian granite. 
 
 In the library are another portrait of the late 
 Mr. Weddell, with a face pale, studious, and in- 
 teresting; a fine table in Mosaic of different mar- 
 bles ; and a pamting of Apollo re-warding Poetry. 
 - The drawing-room (forty feet by twenty) is hung 
 with the most exquisite specimens of Gobelin ta- 
 pestry in Europe, and ornamented with two other 
 fine tables of variegated marbles. 
 
 The ante-chamber is singularly beautiful, chaste, 
 and classical; fitted up with stuccoed Etruscan 
 ornaments, and admirable chair-oscuras, in different
 
 [ 254 ] 
 
 compartments. The ground of the wall is a pale 
 green, relieved by light purple mouldings. 
 
 From hence we were led into the dining-room, 
 sixty feet by twenty. This disproportioned length 
 is corrected by semicircular recesses formed at each 
 end with fluted Corinthian pillars. In the recess 
 at the upper part are several large transparent ala- 
 baster vases standing upon pedestals, intended to 
 receive candles, that may cast " a dim religious 
 " light" over this apartment, and assist the 
 magic effect with which the mind is impressed 
 when we look through the door in the recess at 
 the opposite extremity of the room. Here we 
 throw a glance into the penetralia of the temple 
 the museum, or gallery of statues; a series of the 
 most precious antique marbles which taste could 
 select, and money procure. This repository con- 
 sists of a suite of three small apartments; the first 
 is square, the second a rotunda with a domed ceil- 
 ing, and the third another square; a vista that is 
 terminated by an antique sarcophagus, filling a 
 recess at the end of the farthest apartment. All 
 the rooms are finished with stuccoed ceilings, and 
 basso relief walls; and the brightness of the Parian 
 and Pentilican marbles is softened down by a pale 
 strawberry ground. The statues are as follow. 
 In the first apartment:
 
 [ 255 ] 
 
 Silenus ; a short thick figure, conveying a good idea 
 of the poetical character of this senex ebrius, this old 
 sottish god. Under his right arm he carries a skin of 
 wine, (called by the ancients the uterus') supporting 
 its weight on his thigh. A Ganymede, of modern 
 statuary ; small and beautiful, with the most happy 
 delicacy in the limbs of the effeminate youth. A 
 vase, antique; supported by a lion's head and leg of 
 ancient sculpture. Septimius Severus, who died at 
 York; an antique bust; the toga fastened upon 
 the right shoulder with zjibula. Much expression 
 in the countenance, but the stiff and formal dis- 
 position of the front curls evinces that the piece 
 was chiselled when statuary was in the wane. 
 A medallion of antique porphyry over it; Hercules, 
 and another figure. Gcta, (whole figure, antique) 
 the son of the Emperor Septimius Severus ; with 
 the scroll of admission into the senate in his hand, 
 a bulla upon his breast, and clothed in the toga 
 <virilis. The whole of this is stiff. Caracalla, 
 Geta's brother; profligate and cruel; a large an- 
 tique bust. A grand expression of fierceness and 
 cruelty in the countenance, which exemplify the 
 trux Caracalla of the historian. Over it, an antique 
 medallion in porphyry, Two Fauns sacrificing. 
 An antique vase. Galatea, the Nereid; antique; 
 according to Homer, the daughter of Nereus and
 
 [ 256 ] 
 
 Doris ; by her side a Cupid bestriding a Dolphin. 
 One end of her mantle is tucked up under her right 
 arm, the other is held above her head, out of which 
 she is squeezing the water. Epicurus, the celebra- 
 ted philosopher, holding a scroll with both his 
 hands; a very fine antique. A Dacian King; a 
 valuable antique. Small whole-length figure, com- 
 posed of white and black marble; the hands and face 
 of the former; the bonnet and rest of the figure of 
 the latter. When we view this specimen of very 
 ancient art, we cannot but be astonished that the 
 sharp and minute parts which compose it should be 
 in the most perfect preservation. An antique co- 
 lossal head of Hercules; the expression solemn, 
 majestic, and thoughtful; the beard supremely 
 grand. It stands upon an antique three-faced altar, 
 with figures on each front representing performers 
 in the Dithyrambic rites; among which is an admi- 
 rable female Bacchanalian maniac. A small Muse, 
 modern and beautiful; and under it an interesting 
 little figure, a Girl bemoaning the loss of her Bird. 
 A medallion of antique porphry; groupe. 
 
 In the vestibule to the second apartment, or ro- 
 tunda, we find two antique vases of composition, 
 ornamented with fancy patterns of the most beau- 
 tiful design and workmanship. 
 
 The rotunda contains :
 
 C 257 ] 
 
 A female antique bust; unknown. The front 
 hair thrown back carelessly and gracefully, and 
 twisted up in a small roll at the back of the head; 
 the left breast is bare, and the robe fastened over 
 the right shoulder by a row of four fibula. There 
 is much grace in the fashion of the dress, as well as 
 beauty in the workmanship. Brutus ,th.e assassin of 
 Caesar; a full-length noble antique, naked figure. 
 The face extremely thin; the expression of coun- 
 tenance penetrating and severe, but " more in 
 " sorrow than in anger." He grasps in his left 
 hand the fatal dagger by the blow of which he sa- 
 crificed private friendship at the altar of public good. 
 The statue stands upon an ancient circular altar. 
 A sitting Muse, antique; the drapery of which is 
 very fine; a square antique altar supports her. 
 
 A beautiful naked Venus, antique; of the same 
 delicate workmanship, inimitable grace, and scien- 
 tific proportions, as the celebrated statue de Medici. 
 It is, indeed, the jewel of this collection ; and said to 
 have been bought at so high a price as induced Mr. 
 Weddell to conceal from his friends the enormous 
 expence in which this indulgence of his favourite 
 propensity involved him. At her left side is the 
 trunk of a tree, (for a supporter) and Cupid leaning 
 upon it; fruits and flowers of the most admirable 
 sculpture entwine the trunk, which is crowned
 
 [ 258 ] 
 
 by a large shell, another emblem of the goddess, 
 in which she sailed to Cyprus: 
 
 " Haec et coeruleis mecum consurgere digna 
 " Flu&ibus, et nostra potuit considere concha." 
 
 Caligula; antique bust with a young face; for 
 he was early made Imperator. The toga fastened 
 with * fibula over the right shoulder. An antique 
 female bust, unknown. Pallas; a fine antique, 
 full length, as large as life, with the emblems both 
 of learning and war; casque on her head, and an 
 owl on her right hand. The Gorgon's head covers 
 her breast, and a girdle of snakes passes under her 
 left arm, and over her right shoulder. The expres- 
 sion of the countenance rather solemn than fierce. 
 
 Faustina, the wife of Antoninus Pius; an whole 
 length antique of extraordinary beauty. The pos- 
 ture graceful, easy, and natural; and the expres- 
 sion of the countenance serene and angelic, such 
 as a Pagan might have thought she would have 
 worn after her apotheosis an honour which was 
 conferred upon her by the senate when she died. 
 The undulating stile of the hair shews the becoming 
 fashion in which the Roman ladies dressed their 
 heads in the time of the Antonines. 
 
 A Jupiter; antique bust. The god of Virgil 
 rather than Homer; serene and solemn. Profuse 
 hair, flowing beard, and projecting eye-brows.
 
 C M9 ] 
 
 An antique Term; the upper part female, with 
 beautiful face, and wings on the shoulders; a can- 
 tharus in the right hand, and in the left four united 
 torches inflamed, the emblems of the four elements. 
 Opposite to it is a Piping Boy, antique ; stand- 
 ing on a small circular altar. 
 
 In the further apartment, we find 
 
 A Negro* s Head, antique; black marble. 
 Augustus; an antique colossal bust; inelegant.' 
 A small square sarcophagus with a moveable cover; 
 elaborately sculptured with high relief. A large 
 ditto, ornamented in the same manner, representing 
 Children at their sports. A Dancing Faun; small 
 whole length antique. Colossal bust of Alexander; 
 antique, with a casque upon the head; the hair 
 uncommonly bold and free. It seems to have been 
 the affectation of the hero himself, and of his ad- 
 mirers after him, to have representations of him 
 made upon a gigantic scale; in order to impress 
 upon posterity more forcibly the idea of his great- 
 ness; as if mental superiority were naturally asso- 
 ciated with an extended form. A medallion of an- 
 tique porphyry; Omphale, labouring under the 
 club and lion's skin of Hercules. 
 
 Apollo; an antique whole length statue; the god 
 is resting himself against the trunk of a tree, after 
 having destroyed the Python. This is a fine statue, 
 
 vol. i. s
 
 [ GuO ] 
 
 to which we may very fairly apply the remarks of 
 "vVinckleman. " His attitude speaks celestial 
 " grandeur; the elegant shape and turn of his 
 ' ; limbs seem to have been formed under a climate 
 " blessed with Elysian plains. His youth is the 
 " flower of eternal spring; a flower as incapable of 
 " acquiring, as it is of losing, any thing; perfedl, 
 " tender, and sweet. Here we see nothing com- 
 " mon to humanity; no nerves, no veins; a divine 
 " air diffuses itself over the surface of the figure." 
 Bust of Pallas ; antique. The head of white 
 marble, the remaining part of Egyptian alabaster; 
 deep yellow, and transparent. Medallion of an- 
 tique porphyry ; Hercules contending with the Lyr- 
 naan Lion* Bacchus and a young Satyr. The 
 god carries the emblematical poculum; his figure is 
 graceful and elegant ; the face animated. An im- 
 mense antique sarcophagus of veined marble, grey 
 and white, capable of containing two hundred and 
 fourteen gallons. Admirably preserved; the mould- 
 ings being as fine and sharp as if just chiselled. Its 
 supporters are four lion's feet; and its ornaments 
 four lions' faces. A bust by Nollekens, the late 
 Mr. Weddell; a countenance full of benevolence, 
 mildness, humanity, and taste. The small head of 
 a dog, very fine; a copy from the great work of 
 the celebrated Myron. A Stork with a Serpent in
 
 [ 261 ] 
 
 his bill; antique; standing on a beautiful three- 
 faced altar the first front representing a tro- 
 phaum ; the second, Victory offering a chaplet with 
 one hand, and bearing an olive-branch in the other; 
 the third represents her seated, supported by her 
 shield, and a hasta pura in her right hand. A 
 small bronze antique, Mercury ; extremely fine. 
 Lucilla; antique colossal bust; the hair disposed 
 in singular and formal curls. She was the daughter 
 of the Emperor Antoninus, and wife of Lucius 
 Verus. A Sleeping Hermaphrodite; modern, but 
 exquisitely beautiful. A young antique Bacchus. 
 A medallion of antique porphyry. 
 
 The stair-case, which is very elegant, afforded us 
 two excellent reliefs the triumph of Aurelian, and 
 Brutus condemning his Son to death; an immense 
 Sicilian jasper slab; two fine columns of curious 
 marble; and a picture by Calebresi, 'Judith expo- 
 sing the Head of Holofernes to the Jews. These, 
 with two busts and a basso-relievo in the flower- 
 garden lodge, finish the collection of antiques at 
 Newby; which, it may be fairly said, is the most 
 valuable and select of any in the kingdom of a si- 
 milar extent, with the exception, perhaps, of Mr. 
 Townley's superb museum. 
 
 On our arrival at Ripon, we visited its church, 
 to pay a parting tribute to the memory of the late
 
 [ 262 ] 
 
 Mr. Wcddell, and heave a sigh over the monu- 
 ment of departed taste, urbanity, and benevolence. 
 Under his marble bust is a tablet with the follow- 
 ing inscription: 
 
 " To the memory of WILLIAM WEDDELL, esq; of 
 Newby, in whom every virtue that ennobles the mind 
 was united with every elegance that adorns it, this 
 Monument, a faint emblem of his refined taste, is 
 dedicated by his Widow; 
 ' Whom what awaits, while yet she strays 
 Along the lonely vale of days ? 
 A pang, to secret sorrow dear 
 A sigh an unavailing tear 
 Till time shall every grief remove, 
 With life, with memory, and with love. 
 Obiit 1789." 
 
 These beautiful lines, you know, are Gray's; but 
 adopted with peculiar felicity by one who has 
 never ceased to feel the severity of a loss as heavy 
 as it is irremediable. The church is a long irre- 
 gular pile, built at different periods. This is suf- 
 ficiently evident in the choir, the north side of 
 which is of Saxon, the other members of Go- 
 thic, architecture. Its remarkable ornament is a 
 screen of most beautiful and tasteful work. An 
 handsome obelisk in the spacious market-place of 
 Ripon is a monument of the liberality of the late 
 William Aislabie, esq; whose celebrated residence, 
 Studley-Park, is only tliree miles from this town.-
 
 [ 263 ] 
 
 To this place (which is one of the most perfect 
 and correct specimens of the stile of gardening 
 that succeeded the Dutch manner, and which, 
 from its decorations, I would call the classical stile) 
 we were conduced by a good private road, ap- 
 proaching the house through a long-drawn avenue 
 finished at the further end by an obelisk, and letting 
 in at the opposite termination a view of Ripon 
 church; the two western towers of which are here 
 seen to great advantage, assuming a very imposing 
 appearance. The avenue is a mile in length, 
 formed by noble trees, and therefore extremely 
 grand of its kind; and if ever proper, as connected 
 with any modern residence, would have been so 
 here. But there are objections to 'it which no 
 extent of dimensions can do away ; radical faults, 
 which never can be gotten over the want of va- 
 riety, and the appearance of art. An avenue only 
 gives one confined picture to the eye, which is al- 
 ways before it, and never diversified. Imagina- 
 tion cannot create, because every thing is already 
 defined; nor can fancy be gratified by interrupted 
 appearances in the view, temporary concealments 
 of objects, or new combinations of natural features. 
 The regularity of the form also adds to the disap- 
 pointment of the lively faculties of the mind; the 
 operations of art are suggested to it, and these ge-
 
 [ 264 ] 
 
 nerally produce gloomy ideas, as connected with 
 the exertion of thought, and the labour of the body. 
 
 The general character of the grounds of Studley- 
 Park appeared to us to be highly favourable to 
 the gardener to display his skill and taste upon, 
 being moulded into pleasing hills and dales, and 
 thickly clothed with noble timber firs, elms, and 
 oaks. Whether or not he have availed himself of 
 these advantages, the following correct description 
 of the decorations will enable you to judge. 
 
 The house, a jumble of modern masonry, and 
 the later Gothic, detained us only a few minutes, 
 to regard the prospects, which are chiefly views of 
 Ripon church, and other distant solitary objects, 
 let in through avenues, and therefore objection- 
 able, as having the appearance of pains being ta- 
 ken to produce them. From hence a path de- 
 scended to the lower lake, which we took, and 
 soon found ourselves on the velvet bank of a regu- 
 lar piece of water of eleven acres, deformed by a 
 small island in its centre, with a large unintelligible 
 stone perched upon it. Around this pond the 
 banks rise rapidly on every side, darkened from 
 top to bottom with majestic woods. From hence 
 the circuit round the grounds is four miles, 
 which includes all within them that is worthy re- 
 mark. The first walk we entered is called the
 
 [ 26.5 ] 
 
 back walk, which opens a view to the left of the 
 half-moon Water, and the canal, (names expressive 
 of their disgusting forms) backed by a proud bank 
 of shade, out of whose bosom the upper members 
 of a Gothic tower discover themselves. A cast 
 from the antique, (two contending Gladiators ) 
 forms one of the ornaments of the little plat of 
 turf on this side the canal; whilst to the right the 
 eye is prevented from excursion by a lofty wooded 
 bank, darkened with firs, the favourite tree of the 
 spot, some of which are one hundred and eighteen 
 feet high. Another opening, a little further on to 
 the left, lets in a pretty Doric building, the temple 
 of Piety, and a circular pond, under the tutelage 
 of Neptune, whose figure is seen in the centre of it. 
 The same grand back of wood as before frowns 
 over its surface. The roar of an invisible cascade 
 now excites attention, and we are prepared to see 
 a body of water thrown down from a considerable 
 height, and forcing an interrupted passage through 
 opposing rocks; but, " parturiunt montes" the 
 wished-for scene is opened, and on reaching the 
 bath we discover a little formal fall, produced by 
 the waters of the upper canal seeking to unite 
 themselves with those of the lower. Two casts 
 from the antique, a dying Gladiator, and Hercules 
 and Antaus, introduce themselves into this picture.
 
 [ 266 ] 
 
 Pursuing the winding walk from the bath, we 
 catch the head of the upper canal, a grotto shrouded 
 with shrubs, within whose dark recess we see a 
 cataract, the effect of which would be very good, 
 were not the figure too formal, and the other con- 
 temptible fall of water visible. A vista now occurs, 
 discovering the canal lengthwise, the other pools 
 cut into a variety of mathematical forms; and three 
 antique statues a jumble of puerilities that we 
 are hardly recompensed for by the lofty wood that 
 hems in the whole scene, with its elegant Gothic 
 tower. The next opening embraces a view of the 
 lake, the canal, the groupe of Hercules and An- 
 taus, the superb bank of wood, and the rotunda 
 pushing its head above the shade, supported by 
 eight Doric pillars; beneath which the eye reposes 
 on a long extent of velvet sod, sprinkled with trees. 
 Crossing the head of the canal, the path penetrates 
 a gloomy recess towards the reservoir, where we 
 catch to the right the Gothic seat, and to the 
 left the prettiest feature of the grounds, a little 
 wild scenery called jQuebec; consisting of an irre- 
 gular pool, with its own natural island in the cen- 
 tre, covered with wood. A pillar is here erected 
 to the memory of General Wolfe, but happily for 
 the picturesque effect, it has been long compleatly 
 hidden by the trees. Reaching the Temple of Piety *,
 
 [ 267 ] 
 
 so called from the story of the ' Grecian Daugh- 
 ter,' in basso relievo, we had, from its portico, all 
 the elaborate ornaments which were already seen 
 individually, thrown upon the eye together at once; 
 the canal, temple, half-moon of water, statues, 
 bath, &c. and beyond these a noble wooded bank, 
 deserving better accompaniments. The path now 
 quits the canal and dips into a wood, changing its 
 name into that of the lower walk. Here a new 
 feature is introduced a rockybank, through which 
 a subterraneous passage is cut, but without pro- 
 ducing the usual effeft of these underground roads, 
 as the light of the day is visible at the other extre- 
 mity of it. Emerging from hence, we find our- 
 selves in an open pasture of considerable extent, 
 4iear the Gothic tower, whose platform commands 
 some good sylvan scenery, disfigured, however, 
 by an insignificant Chinese temple, and a tower. 
 From the windows of the building we have differ- 
 ent obje&s the house, the lower water, an obelisk, 
 banqueting-house, and canal. 
 
 Pursuing a strait path throughMinchistraw-grove, 
 we experience for a few minutes that pleasure 
 which is derived from contrast, by a little natural 
 scenery, unexpe&edly breaking in upon us; but 
 the delusion is short, for at the termination of this 
 grove the rotunda presents itself, and a bird's-eye
 
 [ 268 ] 
 
 view of all the artificial grounds, and their elaborate 
 ornaments, which we have hitherto seen. Enter- 
 ing upon the rotunda walk, we direct our steps to 
 the alcove, a seat with the same map-like view 
 below it as before; the wood, however, in front 
 investing itself with more majesty by the amphi- 
 theatrical form it here assumes. The Gothic seat 
 is our next station, but before we reach it, a little 
 opening at the corner of a walk admits a different 
 sort of landscape to the eye a fine valley, formed 
 by high wooded banks, through which the river 
 Shell leads his waters down a series of small cas- 
 cades. All this opens more fully from the Gothic 
 seat, with the addition of Fountain's Abbey, a glo- 
 rious Gothic ruin, rising out of the meadow imme- 
 diately in front of the station. For a moment we 
 were imposed upon, by the surprise arising from 
 such a magnificent object bursting upon the view 
 unexpectedly; but as soon as judgment resumed its 
 office, all pleasing emotions were destroyed, by the 
 senseless incongruity and unnatural association in 
 the scene before us. Instead of the wildness and 
 desolation which Nature invariably throws around 
 her ruins, the inevitable effects of neglect and de- 
 sertion; here all is regularity and correctness, velvet 
 lawns, mathematically formed gravel-walks, and 
 artificial cascades; and no one feature to lead to
 
 [ 269 ] 
 
 appropriate contemplation, the recollection of ex- 
 tinguished grandeur, or the conviction of the eva- 
 nescence of all human labour. Descending by the 
 walk, called after Ann Bulky 77, we proceeded to the 
 Abbey, along the banks of the reservoir, which 
 is skirted to the right hand by a solemn line of 
 spruce firs; the abbey still in front, but almost 
 offending the eye by one broad uninterrupted view 
 of its walls, in which is no partial concealment, no 
 opportunity afforded for the creation of fancy; an 
 effect that might easily have been produced by scat- 
 tering a few trees over the carpet of sod before it, 
 or hanging its walls with masses of ivy. Robin- 
 Hood wood, into which we now enter, (so called 
 from being the scene of the severe battle fought 
 between that noted outlaw and a friar of Fountain- 
 Abbey) exemplifies the truth of the above obser- 
 vation, by giving us the ruin through the trees to 
 the right hand; which is thus rendered extremely 
 grand, interesting, and pi&uresque. Its detail on 
 approach is equally beautiful; the members being 
 plain, uniform, and light; all built, probably, at the 
 same time, about the beginning of the thirteenth 
 century. We particularly admired the clustered 
 pillars of the transept, which must have been, when 
 perfect, surprisingly fine, ascending in slender shafts 
 to the springing of the roof. At the eastern end
 
 C 270 ] 
 
 of jhe choir stood the high altar, whose situation 
 is marked by the remaining Mosaic pavement, on 
 which it was placed. Taking a view of the interior 
 from the extremity of the Lady's chapel, the vista 
 is beautiful ; a range of dilapidated building of the 
 chastest Gothic, three hundred and sixty feet long, 
 finely relieved with wood. At the termination of 
 this, stands one of the towers, two of which for- 
 merly graced the western end. The northern one 
 only remains, lifting its venerable head to the 
 height of one hundred and seventy-four feet. This 
 is divided into three parts by two bands or little 
 proje&ions of stone from its face, each inscribed 
 with sentences that are now easily made out. They 
 are as follow. On the east side: Soli Deo Jhu. 
 Xto. honor, et glia. in secla. sclor. On the west 
 side: Agno Dei J Int. Xto. honor, et glia* scla. sclor. 
 On the upper band at the north side: Et virtus 
 ct fortitudo Deo nostro in secula seculorum. Amen. 
 On the lower band same side: Soli Deo honor, et 
 glia. secula seculorum. On the south side: Soli 
 Deo honor, et glia*- in secula seculorum. Amen. 
 A door leading out of the southern aile conducted 
 us into the cloister-garden; the abbot's-garden; 
 i lie magnificent chapter-house, originally divided 
 by two ranges of pillars into a nave and side ailes; 
 the extensive cloisters, three hundred feet long;
 
 I *71 ] 
 
 and various other buildings in this noble abbey* 
 which was founded in 1 132 for Cistertian monks, 
 and enjoyed a yearly revenue at the Dissolution 
 of 1073/. os. J^d. 
 
 Quitting this ruin by the abbey-walk, we re- 
 turned into the artificial grounds on the opposite 
 side of the river Shell, with a fine mass of wood to 
 the right, and a wall of shrubby rock on the left; 
 presently ascending a rugged pathway to the higher 
 walk, where a pleasing back view is afforded of the 
 upper part of the abbey tower, its roots hidden by 
 trees. We now enter upon the upper sandy- 
 walk, and soon get another peep at our old ac- 
 quaintance, Hercules and Antaus, the parallello- 
 grammic canal, and the opposite bank of wood, 
 with its buildings, the rotunda and Gothic tower; 
 a piclure again presented to us under a different 
 combination, from the alcove above the sweep, 
 with the addition of the Temple of Piety, prettily 
 seen above the trees. The ladies 1 hill walk re- 
 receives us from the alcove, appropriately orna- 
 mented with little plats of grass, and parterres of 
 flowers; but not so delicately terminated by the 
 walk of Priapus, a figure of which god occurs in 
 the point where the two paths unite. The latter 
 affords a peep at a very pleasing feature of country, 
 a deep glen, called Kendal walk ; dark and solemn,
 
 [ 272 ] 
 
 agreeably contrasting with the airy and fantastic 
 scenes we have been wandering through; where (to 
 use Hamlet's expression) we have all along " been 
 " too much i* the sun." From the opposite 
 wooded terrace the god Pan just discloses his sylvan 
 form. Descending to the banqueting-bouse, we 
 find ourselves in an elegant stone building with em- 
 blematical sculptures on its face, and a pretty carpet 
 of lawn before us. From hence the objeft has been 
 to unite all the artificial ornaments of the place into 
 one view; the Gothic tower, the pantheon, the 
 temple, and the seat; which, crouding upon the 
 eye all together, satiate and disgust, instead of af- 
 fording pleasure. Here was the favourite retreat 
 of the late Mr. Aislabie, who during the summer 
 almost constantly ate his meals at the banqueting- 
 house. A good figure of Venus de Medici stands 
 within the grand apartment, but we were distressed 
 at seeing so modest a lady cast in bronze. From 
 hence, dropping down the well-walk, where no 
 new features occur, we shortly perceived the point 
 from which we had set out two hours before, ha- 
 ving threaded all the principal mazes of these very 
 elaborate pleasure-grounds. 
 
 We had the pleasure of refreshing our eyes with 
 some agreeable natural scenery, after all this orna- 
 mental gardening, in the picturesque village of
 
 [ 273 ] 
 
 GolFa, with its little roaring stream, and humble 
 mill; which lies about two miles from Studley, in 
 the way to Hackfall; and is, indeed, a direcl 
 and passable road both for horse or carriage to 
 that place, notwithstanding the assertions of the 
 Ripon innkeepers and post-boys, who (in order 
 to employ their chaises) terrify the traveller with 
 stories of ruts " unfathomably deep, beyond the 
 " reach of frost," Sorbonian bogs, and other un- 
 conquerable difficulties. Notwithstanding these re- 
 presentations, we ventured to take the shorter road 
 to Hackfall, by which six miles were saved out of 
 twelve; and were rewarded for our hardihood by 
 a ride full of very agreeable scenery, which conti- 
 nued to spread itself before us till we reached this 
 other celebrated place of Mr. Aislabie, where he 
 seems to have followed the hints of his own taste, 
 as much as he complied with the di&ates of fashion 
 in Studley-park. There is no house at Hackfall ; 
 but when the owner visited this spot, he occupied 
 an apartment in the gardener's dwelling, a neat 
 little cottage at the entrance of the grounds. Here, 
 providing ourselves with a cicerone^ we were con- 
 dueled through a small wicket, into a wild wood- 
 land dell, the bottom of which to the right is 
 watered by a limpid brook, feasting the ear with 
 its agreeable murmur, as it rolls over its pebbly
 
 [ 274 ] 
 
 bed. The very entrance into these grounds is 
 marked by the finest touches of natural scenery, 
 which instantly flashed upon the mind the superi- 
 ority of these wild and artless features over elabo- 
 rate and formal decoration. The path, following 
 the brook that forms innumerable little falls in its 
 course, which is almost impervious to the sun, 
 conduced us to the summer-house, a seat erected 
 opposite to a beautiful series of cascades, called the 
 alum springs. These are three in number, tum- 
 ling down the rough face of a rock, which struggles 
 to make itself visible through a thick skreen of 
 wood, into a brook sixty feet below the falls. 
 From this point the dell grows still more wild, and 
 the hills to the right more abrupt, the cascades 
 more frequent, and the rocks more grotesque; 
 forming a scene of abstraction perfectly answering 
 the description of the poet's " Mansion of Con- 
 " temptation:" 
 
 " Here may she imp 
 " Her eagle plumes; the poet here may hold 
 " Sweet converse with his muse; the curious sage, 
 " Who comments on great nature's ample tome, 
 " May find that volume here. For here are caves 
 " Where rise those gurgling fills, that sing the song 
 " Which Contemplation loves; here shadowy glades, 
 " Where through the trem'lous foliage darts the ray 
 " That gilds the poet's day-dream.''
 
 [ 275 ] 
 
 Proceeding onwards, the scene opens to the right, 
 and lets in a lofty hill, an immense mass of wooded 
 rock, whose point is crowned by a good ruined 
 tower, called Mowbray -Castle, which, from its 
 isolated situation, has an extremely happy effect. 
 But this is speedily shut out from the eye by the 
 thickening gloom around us, and all is close and 
 quiet till we descend to the fisher* s-hall, a little 
 octagon room, constructed in the Gothic taste, of 
 calcareous petrifactions, and opening a view unpa- 
 ralleled in its kind. Behind, every distant object 
 is excluded by a mountainous bank of wood, ex- 
 cept a pretty little ruin upon a point, and a narrow 
 ribband of cascade falling down the rock. To the 
 right, the brook, which we had been following, 
 throws itself over a series of natural craggy steps; 
 above this the august promontory on which Mow- 
 bray-Castle stands, rises to the height of six 
 or seven hundred feet. Directing itself to the left, 
 the eye catches another wooded hill, whose sides 
 suddenly forming themselves into precipices pre- 
 sent a long line of perpendicular rock; and at 
 length uniting with the valley, are washed by the 
 river Oure, who forces his impetuous course 
 through it in a broad and winding stream, confined 
 on both sides to his rocky bed by abrupt banks, 
 clothed with venerable woods. 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 C M6 3 
 
 The next objecT: is the grotto, approached by a 
 devious path through the trees, and crossing a lit- 
 tle torrent, that hurries from the left-hand hill to 
 the bed of the river. Here the fancy is delighted 
 by a noble flight of cascades, roaring down a steep 
 declivity one hundred and fifty feet high; opposed 
 on the other side by the aerial ruin on the summit 
 of Mowbray point. A new and different scene 
 now occurs, a little fairy spot of ground, sacred to 
 stillness and retirement. This is a small verdant 
 carpet of turf, terminated by the fountain-bouse, so 
 called from its concealing the machinery of a jet 
 d'eau, which throws a stream of water to the height 
 of forty feet from the heart of an island in a 
 pool to the left; an artificial littleness rather out of 
 taste, as the opening to the right lets in one of the 
 grandest scenes of Nature that the imagination can 
 conceive. Here a long reach of the river Oure is 
 beheld, rushing over its rugged bottom with uncon- 
 trolable fury; but lashing in vain the sides of its 
 perpendicular rocky barrier, whose broad extent of 
 uncovered face is happily contrasted by the solemn 
 amphitheatrical crown of aged wood which waves 
 to the wind far above the precipices. The tent walk 
 shuts out for a short time, by the closeness of its 
 shade, every distant objelt, and allows the mind a 
 momentary repose, from the contemplation of such
 
 [ 277 ] 
 
 successive magnificent scenes, as almost tempt the 
 exclamation of the poet, 
 
 " Visions of glory, spare mine aching sight!" 
 This sequestered sylvan scenery conducts to the tent, 
 which gives name to the Arcadian spot through 
 which we have passed; and here another view is 
 let in of the mural rock, and its proud over-sha- 
 dowing woods, that form the right-hand bank of the 
 impetuous Oure, as well as a pretty pastoral picture 
 of distant meads and rural dwellings. But soon 
 the excursions of the eye are again precluded, by 
 a darker shade, which grows around us as we de- 
 scend through the coal-pit walk to the troubled 
 waters of the river that has hitherto flowed below 
 us. Here it unfolds a wider sweep to the visitor, 
 stretching away both to the right and to the left; 
 the former reach suddenly shut in by the bold pro- 
 montory, crowned with Mowbray-Castle, whose 
 face is overhung by a vast mass of calcareous in- 
 crustation, called the weeping rock, which, like 
 the dripping-well at Knaresborough, distils with 
 water that cases with a stony coat whatever is 
 presented to its action. At this point the lower 
 walks terminate, and we return towards the point 
 from whence we set out, but by a new series of 
 paths, which, managed with the utmost art and 
 judgment, present a quick succession of different
 
 [ 278 ] 
 
 views. Climbing the limestone hill, we ascend 
 through a plantation of fine half-grown oaks to a 
 resting place, where the eye is refreshed with soft- 
 ened scenery, through a woody vista; a long and 
 distant reach of the Oure, Masham's spired church, 
 rich meadows, waving corn-fields, and neat farm- 
 houses. A gentle declination conducts us from 
 hence to the rock walk, taking its name from the 
 right-hand boundary, formed by a sudden perpen- 
 dicular rise of the rock on that side. From this 
 hollow another undulation of the ground brings us 
 to Holland hill, a wooded eminence, on whose 
 summit is found the rustic temple a little open 
 octagonal shed, commanding a prospect that sweeps 
 over a diameter of thirty miles, with a foreground 
 of high rock and deep woods. Here the path again 
 assumes a new name, and under the appellation of 
 the quarry bank, ascends towards Mowbray point, 
 catching in its way the spire of Masham, and a 
 worsted manufactory. Near the summit of this 
 elevation is perched a sentry-box, which gives a 
 map-like view of the right and left reaches of the 
 river, and its grand accompaniments; lets in Ked- 
 lington church, and an immense flat, studded with 
 villages and towns, and only bounded by the dim- 
 descried Hamilton hills. Yet this is but tame and 
 uniform, when compared with the grand and diver-
 
 [ 279 ] 
 
 sified picture which unfolds itself from the building 
 called the point; whose foreground, a rapid river 
 pent up between steep rocks, and midnight woods ; 
 middle distance, a wide sheet of inexhaustible 
 fertility; and boundary, a long line of mountains; 
 form a combination better imagined than described. 
 Quitting this spot, we follow the new walk, 
 which skirts the western side of the grounds, and 
 admits, as we proceed, a pleasing peep to the left of 
 the alum spring, seen now from above, and falling 
 into the rock immediately under the eye, but losing 
 much of its beauty and effect by the foreshortening. 
 Here the entertainment is concluded; the walk 
 pursuing its darkling course through a shady wood 
 for a quarter of a mile, reaches the little wicket 
 which admitted us into this enchanted region; a 
 place of which it may be said, that Art has, gone 
 hand in hand with Nature, to unfold her beauties 
 and heighten her attractions. Not considering her 
 as a rival, she has kindly assisted her on her course, 
 rather than jostled her out of it. Indeed, when 
 we compare Hackfall with Studley, and recollect 
 that both the places were laid out under the di- 
 rection of the same gentleman, we are tempted to 
 consider them as having been intended by their 
 owner as contrasts to each other; as a sort of prac- 
 tical argument held out to the public, to convince
 
 [ 280 ] 
 
 them of the superiority of the natural style of gar- 
 dening over the meretricious system, which in his 
 days it was the fashion to adopt. 
 
 On quitting Hackfall, we could not but wonder 
 and regret, that there is no house upon or near its 
 delicious grounds; that its beauties are seen by 
 the eye, and walks trodden by the feet, of the 
 stranger alone. 
 
 A cross stony road led us through Masham to 
 Bedale, eleven miles from Hackfall; on our way to 
 which place, about four miles to the south of it, 
 we took from an eminence a final view of that glo- 
 rious part of Yorkshire over which our route had 
 conducted us. Sorry as we were to bid a final 
 adieu to it, we could not but allow that it made 
 all the amends possible for its desertion, by throw- 
 ing at once before our eyes such a boundless sheet 
 of hill and dale, wood and rock, meadows and 
 fields, houses, villages, and towns, as equally baffles 
 the painter's pencil to delineate, or the tourist's 
 pen to describe. 
 
 Your's, &c. 
 
 R. W.
 
 Newcastle 
 
 Lumley-Castle gji 
 Cockon &C^ 
 
 Durliam ex 
 Croxdale J 
 Bishop's-Auckland rrj^ 
 Auckland JSjjL 
 
 ^^5] Darlington 
 ?4 Croft 
 I Hell-Kettle 
 
 I 
 , J Catterick Bridge 
 
 lJ Bedale 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 TO THE SAME. 
 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 Newcastle, June lid. 
 
 X 71 7ITH the scenery of Hackfall we bade along 
 * farewell to picturesque beauty; for in pro- 
 portion as we approached the eastern coast of the 
 kingdom, the features of Nature became more 
 tame and insipid. Our attention, however, was 
 called at Catterick to an artificial curiosity the
 
 [ 282 ] 
 
 mound near the church-yard; supposed to be part 
 of the Roman works connected with the station 
 Caturaclonium, which was situated in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Catterick-Bridge, thrown across the 
 river Swayle, a mile beyond the village. 
 
 Upon the military way made about sixteen hun- 
 dred years ago, and still hard as adamant, we con- 
 tinued for some miles, and at length passed into 
 the county of Durham at Croft-Bridge, an hand- 
 some modern structure over the Dar, with seven el- 
 liptical arches, whose ribbed roofs offer a singularity 
 in pontic architecture. On our entrance into this 
 palatinate we were presented with a natural phe- 
 nomenon, called Hell-Kettles, three pits or holes in 
 the ground filled with water, and said to be bot- 
 tomless. Tradition informs us, they had their 
 origin in a dreadful volcanic eruption which hap- 
 pened here A. D. 1 1 79, when, after a vast swel- 
 ling in the ground, and a discharge of fire and 
 smoke, on the dissipation of the darkness, the earth 
 was found to have fallen to its former level, and 
 the only alteration in its surface was the three 
 abysses we have just mentioned. The error with 
 respect to their depth was, however, detected two 
 or three years ago, in consequence of a search 
 made for the body of a gentleman, who had 
 drowned himself in one of these cauldrons. The
 
 [ 283 ] 
 
 Dar, occasionally shewing itself to the right, ac- 
 companied us to the town, which receives its name 
 from this stream; a place irregular in plan, and only 
 remarkable for its beautiful and elegantly simple 
 church. The population of the town is calculated 
 to be between six and seven thousand, who are 
 chiefly supported by fading manufactures, of dia- 
 pers, huckabacks, and stuffs; not employing at 
 present a tenth part of the hands which worked at 
 them previously to the war. 
 
 The magnificent inn, a solitary house at Rush- 
 ford, built by Sir John Haydon, in the neighbour- 
 hood, of his noble seat at Windleston, afforded us 
 such excellent accommodation and kindness of atr 
 tention as deserve recollection and remark; indeed 
 it was almost the only pleasing spot we saw for a 
 dozen miles, in a country rather flat and uniform. 
 But this chara&er alters as we approach Durham, 
 six miles from which, on the summit of Fairy -hill, 
 a fine view of that city and a vast tract, of circum- 
 jacent country, bounded on each side by hills, are 
 at once unfolded. But the detail of the scenery in 
 the neighbourhood of Durham is not made out till 
 we get near its walls, when the singularity and 
 beauty of it at once surprise and delight. A lofty 
 circular hill, rising abruptly from the river Wear, 
 which leads his waters round its rocky banks,
 
 [ 284 ] 
 
 has been chosen for the proud and secure situ- 
 ation of the castle and cathedral. Under the 
 protection of these a city of considerable extent 
 grew up, and scattered itself down the steep of 
 the hill, and along the other bank of the river. 
 But all the beauty of Durham is confined to its 
 outside; like all other old cities built in times, 
 when men were content to sacrifice comfort to 
 ' safety, or before they had attained to adequate 
 ideas of refinement or convenience; the streets are 
 narrow, dark, and dirty the houses old, gloomy, 
 and ugly. Carpet and cotton manufactories for- 
 merly gave some little life to the sombre of the 
 place; but the same complaint existed here as in 
 other towns; war had paralyzed their operations, 
 and the melancholy skeletons of what they had 
 hitherto been, now only remained. 
 
 The cathedral and castle afforded us an agreeable 
 employment for the morning; in both we had the 
 the perfection of early architecture. Of the former 
 the western end is a fine specimen of the Anglo- 
 Norman, plain and massive. Its few ornaments 
 are of the zig-zag kind; a favourite stile of decora- 
 tion at the crra of its erection, the latter end of the 
 eleventh century and beginning of the twelfth ; when 
 Carilepho began, and Ralf Flambard executed, the 
 work. Its length is four hundred and eleven feet,
 
 [ 285 ] 
 
 and its breadth eighty. The length of the transept 
 is one hundred and seventy; of the Galli/ee, one 
 hundred; of the sanftum sandorum, one hundred 
 and thirty; and the height of its great tower two 
 hundred and twelve feet. The baptisterium, built 
 of oak, and finished with the richest tabernacle- 
 work, is the finest in the kingdom. 
 
 A little to the east of these is a cross in the pave- 
 ment, thelimits to which females might be admitted; 
 beyond this they were prohibited from proceeding, 
 as some events which had occurred to St. Cuth- 
 bert, (the tutelary saint of the place) whose bones 
 lay reposed by the great altar, had rendered that 
 holy man rather afraid of the sex during life, and 
 desirous of keeping himself uncontaminated by 
 their approach to his remains after death. But 
 they were recompensed for this exclusion by the 
 gallantry or kindness of Bishop Ridsey, who, in 
 the twelfth century, added to the western end of 
 the cathedral the Gallilee, or Lady 1 s -Chapel, a 
 beautiful building, consisting of five ailes, separated 
 from each other by airy Norman arches, fretted 
 with zig-zag decorations. This is connected with 
 the cathedral by a grand arch-way of the same ar- 
 chitecture, and was dedicated to the sole use of 
 devout females. Here, amongst many other monu- 
 ments, is that of the venerable Bede, (who died in
 
 [ 286 ] 
 
 734) tne most learned man in Europe of his time, 
 a meteor in an age of darkness ; a plain flat stone, 
 without any inscription. Proceeding up the great 
 nave, venerable from the awful vista of" long-drawn 
 ailes and fretted vaults,'* we leave on the south side 
 the monument of Ralph Lord Neville, the gallant 
 and the rich, who took David Bruce prisoner; 
 and whose influence, when alive, procured him 
 honours after death which laymen had not hitherto 
 attained to sepulture within the walls of the ca- 
 thedral of Durham. The magnificent ceremonies 
 of his interment realized the fanciful pifture of the 
 poet's description of Arthur's burial, brought to 
 the church-yard in a chariot drawn by seven horses : 
 
 " There, with chaunted orison, 
 
 ** And the long blaze of tapers clear, 
 
 " The stoled fathers met the bier? 
 
 " Through the dim ailes, in order dread 
 
 " Of martial woe, the chief they led, 
 
 " And deep entomb'd in holy ground, 
 
 *' Before the altar's solemn bound." 
 
 In the southern transept we see the curious clock 
 of elaborate work, built in the year 1632, and in 
 the pillars, windows, and skreens, a thousand vari- 
 eties of architectural ornament. From the great 
 nave two marble steps conduct into the choir, an 
 august edifice one hundred and twenty feet long; 
 heavy, but solemn. The throne, built when the
 
 [ 287 ] 
 
 pride of the palatinate bishops equalled their power, 
 is exalted far above the prebendaries and canons 
 below; the centre has a chair of state, canopied with 
 a tabernacle roof richly embossed with golden orna- 
 ments. A skreen of most beautiful pattern and the 
 lightest workmanship divides the choir from the 
 sanctuary, made of alabaster in the year 1380. In 
 the latter member of the fabric (by far the most sa- 
 cred of the whole) formerly stood the shrine of St. 
 Cuthbert, on an elevated piece of stone masonry 
 thirty-sevenfeetinlength, and twenty-six inbreadth. 
 In the centre of this, a black marble slab marked 
 the spot where the dust of the saint is deposited. 
 No vestige now remains of the splendour which sur- 
 rounded the shrine, and the riches oifered at its sanc- 
 tuary; but the number of its votaries whilst the reign 
 of superstition continued, may be calculated from 
 the hollow impressions made in the hard stones 
 surrounding the monument by the feet of the pil- 
 grims who performed here their prostrations, genu- 
 flexions, and obeisances. From hence we descend 
 by several steps to the last member of the church, 
 the eastern transept, or nine altars, as it is called, 
 from the circumstance of its having formerly been 
 adorned with that number, dedicated to as many 
 saints; the pilasters, mouldings, columns, and roof, 
 all of the same beautiful architecture which distin-
 
 . [ 288 ] 
 
 guishes the great tower, and marks it of later 
 times than the body of the church. The buildings 
 adjoining the cathedral, the cloisters, chapel-house, 
 and library, are all constructed in a heavy gloomy 
 style, and rather impress the mind witn horror 
 than solemnity on entering them. Vestiges of the 
 splendid superstition of ancient cathedral service 
 are seen in five rich copes, still preserved in the 
 vestry, the dresses worn by the dignitaries of the 
 church four hundred years ago. 
 
 The castle of Durham, intended for the bishop's 
 winter palace, (although he be seldom here, except 
 to meet the judges) stands close to the cathedral, 
 on the same inaccessible rocky eminence, and is 
 connected with it by Turnstall-gate, an ancient 
 portal built by the bishop of that name. It is of 
 Norman architecture; the keep probably as ancient 
 as the time of William the Conqueror; originally 
 extremely strong and calculated to keep a jealous 
 eye over, and afford immediate assistance to, the 
 subjacent town, perpetually in danger of incursion 
 from the borderers, during the wars that subsisted 
 between the English and Scotch. In conformity 
 to this intention of strength and security in the edi- 
 fice, which precluded elegance and lightness, all 
 within is gloomy and sombrous. A monstrous 
 ball first receives the visitor, one hundred and
 
 [ 289 ] 
 
 eighty feet long, thirty-six feet high, and fifty feet 
 wide, formerly appropriated to the princely feasts 
 which the bishops were accustomed to afford to the 
 neighbourhood on certain days of the week ; but now 
 only echoing to the clatter of dishes and the ring- 
 ing of knives and forks in assize time, when the 
 judges and their suite are entertained here during 
 their stay at Durham. It contains a few busts, 
 casts from the antique, two of which (Cassar and 
 Antinous) were confidently pronounced by our 
 ancient matronly ciceroni to be Adam and Eve, and 
 the following full length portraits: 
 
 John Overall Bishop of Norwich; by Camden 
 reported " a prodigious learned man." He was 
 educated in Trinity-College, Cambridge; thence 
 ele&ed to the mastership of Catherine-Hall; and, 
 from his learning and piety, selected by Queen 
 Elizabeth as a proper successor to Dr. Nowell in 
 the deanery of St. Paul's. In the following reign 
 he was promoted to the bishopric of Lichfield, 
 and in 1618 translated to the diocese of Norwich, 
 where he died the following year. 
 
 John Cosin Bishop of Durham; who was (whilst 
 prebendary of this diocese, and dean of Peterbo- 
 rough) accused of favouring superstitious innova- 
 tions in the church, and amongst the first whose 
 benefices were sequestered by the parliament; upon
 
 [ 290 ] 
 
 which he retired to Paris, and officiated as chaplain 
 to the protestant part of Henrietta Maria's family, 
 and was afterwards appointed to the see of Durham. 
 Obiit. 1 67 1. Mt. 72. 
 
 Thomas Cranmer Archbishop of Canterbury. His 
 rise and fall may be ascribed to the same cause 
 his zeal in furthering the divorce of Henry VIII. 
 from Catherine of Arragon; whilst it gained him 
 the favour of the sated husband, it entailed on him 
 the resentment of his daughter Mary, who could 
 not forget the injury sustained by her queen- 
 mother. The conducl of this learned prelate has 
 been equally the subjecT: of exaggerated praise and 
 undeserved censure; but truly heroic was the for- 
 titude with which he closed a well-spent life of 
 sixty-seven years. Thirlesby Bonnor, with two of 
 the Queen's pro&ors, went to Oxford to degrade 
 him; and having dressed him in all the ornaments 
 of an archbishop made of canvas, he w^as stripped 
 of them piece by piece, but refused to surrender 
 his crosier; they then put him on a yeoman-bea- 
 dle's gown, and a townsman's cap, and remanded 
 him to prison. He was persuaded to sign a recan- 
 tation; and was afterwards burnt before Baliol- 
 College in 1 556, when he thrust his hand into 
 the fire, for being the instrument which produced 
 his recantation.
 
 [ 291 ] 
 
 Matthew Parker", the second protestant arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury. He was not only a great 
 patron of learning, but a liberal encourager of the 
 arts; he formed large collections relative to the 
 History of England, which he bequeathed to 
 Christ* s-college, Cambridge, of which he had been 
 master. He published the Bishop's Bible, and 
 several of the old English historians; translated 
 the Psalms into English verse; and was the founder 
 of the Antiquarian Society. Obiit 1575, iEt. 72. 
 
 'John Whit gift Archbishop of Canterbury ; fre- 
 quently stiled the English Pope, from the zeal and 
 eagerness with which he carried into execution the 
 penal statutes against all who dissented from the 
 established church, during the reign of Elizabeth, 
 Obiit 1603, an d was succeeded by 
 
 Richard Bancroft; who was translated from the 
 see of London. He proved himself a no less rigid 
 disciplinarian than his predecessor. Chelsea col- 
 lege was originally designed for the reception of 
 students, who should answer all Popish and con- 
 troversial writings against the Church of England; 
 and the institution, if not proje&ed, was certainly 
 warmly patronized by Bancroft, who bequeathed 
 to it his very valuable library, in case it was built 
 within six years after his decease. But the plan 
 never having been compleated, his books were by 
 
 vol. 1. u
 
 [ 292 ] 
 
 another clause devised to his successors for ever at 
 Lambeth; where they now are deposited, and have 
 been considerably augmented by subsequent be- 
 quests. Obiit 1610, ^Et. 67. 
 
 Launcelot Andrews Bishop of Winchester-, who 
 successively filled the sees of Chichester, Ely, and 
 Winchester, and materially bettered all the places 
 where he had preferment ; one of the most pious, 
 learned, and amiable prelates that ever were ad- 
 vanced to the episcopal chair. Well skilled in fif- 
 teen languages, his discourses are infinitely better 
 than the usual stile of writers of those times, but 
 so overloaded with Latin quotations and quaint 
 phrases as no longer to be held in very high esti- 
 mation, in consequence of the improvement which 
 has taken pkice in that species of composition. 
 Obiit 1626, JEt. 71. Archbishop Laud. 
 
 The black parlour, so called from its being fitted 
 up with wainscoating of that tremendous hue, is a 
 good specimen of all the other apartments, which 
 seem to be well calculated for producing that hy- 
 pochondriacal affe&ion known by the name of the 
 " Blue Devils." We were gratified, however, in 
 the gallery, by the most beautiful piece of Saxon 
 masonry we had ever seen; it is an arch-way, for- 
 merly connc&ing this passage with an apartment, 
 but tor many centuries, perhaps, stopped up and
 
 [ 293 ] 
 
 unknown. The present bishop, whose munificence 
 fully equals his ability, to make improvements and 
 alterations in this venerable pile, accidentally disco- 
 vered the arch-way, and directed it to be cleaned 
 and repaired. The number of mouldings, the va- 
 riety of ornaments, the beauty of the pattern, and 
 the nicety of the workmanship, render it unquesti- 
 onably the most interesting monument extant of the 
 Anglo-Norman architecture. 
 
 In the common dining-room, from the circumstance 
 of its late alterations, a man might make a comfort- 
 able meal. Here we found half-lengths of George II. 
 and his Queen Caroline Wilhelmina of Brandenburg-, 
 and on looking from its windows, had an extremely 
 singular view of the town which crouched below us, 
 and the river nearly encirling it, its bridges, and 
 wooded banks. To these we descended by a path 
 from the church-yard, and here entered upon the 
 celebrated walks opened and kept in repair by the 
 dean and chapter, which accompany the bending 
 of the stream, and command several singular and 
 interesting peeps at the city and its august orna- 
 ments, the castle and cathedral. The banks, rocky 
 and abrupt, on one hand, and sloping gently to the 
 river on the other, darkened by a solemn depth of 
 shade, sequestered and retired, in the immediate 
 neighbourhood of a busy scene of society, afford a
 
 [ 294 ] 
 
 retreat of the most beautiful and agreeable nature 
 imaginable. The variety of the scenes which they 
 open also is remarkable; deep glades and solemn 
 dells; scarred rock and verdant lawn j sylvan glades 
 and proud castellated edifices. From the elegant 
 new bridge, the last-mentioned feature is seen to 
 great effect; the castle and cathedral blending their 
 battlements and turrets together, rise with incon- 
 ceivable majestyfrom the sacred groves which clothe 
 their rocky foundations. The combination here 
 of trees and buildings, water and rock, home 
 sylvan scenery and fine distance, is at once beautiful 
 and grand. 
 
 Quitting Durham by the Newcastle turnpike, 
 we bent our course towards Cocken-Hall, the pro- 
 perty of Mr. Carr Ibbetson; and for this purpose 
 turned out of the great road at the three-mile 
 stone, and stretched across a country hardly pass- 
 able in the finest weather for wheel-carriages; a 
 nearer way than by Chester-le-street, but accompa- 
 nied with difficulties that more than equal the ad- 
 vantage of lessened distance. On reaching the 
 mansion, which stands upon a hill, and overlooks a 
 pleasing country, we were unspeakably disappointed 
 to find that the small but selecT: collection of pictures 
 whid) rendered Cocken-Hall one of the shew places 
 of Durham, had been removed on the preceding
 
 [ 295 ] 
 
 year; that the groves had been cut down, the 
 walks neglected, and all the elegancies of the place 
 destroyed. Its natural beauties, however, still re- 
 mained; and to these, and the neighbouring ruin 
 of Finchale- Abbey, we proceeded in silent sadness, 
 accompanied by an hind, who promised to point 
 out what features the place had lost since the deso- 
 lating angel had commenced his career there. The 
 grand object of Cocken, and from which almost 
 all its beauties arise, is the river Wear, which leads 
 its serpentine course over a rocky bed, through 
 banks of uncommon picturesque beauty, immedi- 
 ately under the grounds belonging to the house. 
 Beneath the lofty perpendicular face of rock 
 which rises most sublimely over the water, was the 
 principal walk, varied by infinitely diversified com- 
 binations of wood and rocks to the left; and op- 
 posed, on the other side of the river, by a soft 
 pastoral scene of gentle slope and wooded mead?. 
 Amid this pleasing tranquil rural picture, on a 
 little plot pushing into a sweep of the river formed 
 by the receding rocks on the other side, are seen 
 the venerable ruins of Finchale- Abbey, the retreat 
 of pious Godric in the twelfth century, who spent 
 sixty-six years within its walls, in a series of morti- 
 fications and penances that astonish the lukewarm- 
 ness of present religionists. It was given by
 
 [ 296 ] 
 
 Bishop Flambard to the monastery of Durham, 
 subject to the life of Godric; and continued part of 
 its possessions till the Reformation, when its re- 
 venues amounted to 147I. per annum. Its ruins 
 are considerable, many of them intelligible; and 
 being sprinkled with ivy, and accompanied with sur- 
 rounding wood, rock, and water, the whole would 
 form a scene strictly picturesque, were it not spoiled 
 by a modern-built farm-house attached to them, 
 which throws out a contemptible little bow- window 
 towards the furious stream that rushes impetuously 
 over its rocky bed, immediately at the foot of the 
 building. Perched up amid the venerable remains, 
 this combination presented a good sample of modern 
 coxcombry and affectation, contrasted with old- 
 fashioned simplicity and sincerity; and with all that 
 self-importance which generally accompanies in- 
 trinsic littleness, appeared to consider the attention 
 and regard paid to its solemn associates, as a tri- 
 bute due at least equally to itself; reminding us of 
 the conceited cock in your favourite epigram: 
 
 " A cock, within a stable pent, 
 
 Was strutting o'er great heaps of dung; 
 And aye, as round and round he went, 
 
 The mrttl'd coursers madly flung: 
 " Bravo!" cries he, " a decent noise; 
 
 " lVe make a tolerable pother; 
 " Bat, 1< t'l take Care, my merry boys, 
 
 " We triad not upon one another."
 
 [ 297 ] 
 
 Another cross road, difficult to find, but suffici- 
 ently good, led us to Lumley-Castle, three miles and 
 a half from Cocken; a noble mansion belonging to 
 the Earl of Scarborough, seen before it is ap- 
 proached, proudly lifting its battlements above the 
 woods around it. The road, dipping into this 
 shade, follows the brow of a deep ravine, through 
 whose bottom is heard the roaring of the river 
 Wear; the waters of which are hidden from the 
 sight by intervening trees. On the summit of this 
 elevation stands the castle, commanding the vale of 
 Wear, a picture surprisingly rich and extensive ; a 
 square edifice, with a projecting tower at each cor- 
 ner, crowned with lesser towers, that rise out of 
 every angle of them, and an area in the centre. 
 The battlements of the larger towers are machio- 
 lated, or so constructed as to admit the passage of 
 stones, fire, melted lead, or scalding- water, between 
 the face of the tower and the stone- work of the 
 turrets ; the formidable manner of driving enemies^ 
 from the gates and walls, before the invention of 
 gunpowder had enabled assailants to attack from 
 a distance. The chief entrance is at the west front, 
 up a wide double flight of steps. The east front, 
 however, is most august. It has a projecting gate- 
 way in the centre, commanded by turrets, and a 
 machicolated gallery. Several armorial bearings are
 
 [ 293 ] 
 
 executed above the gate in very good masonry. 
 This front of the building is untouched, and affords 
 us a good example of the stile of castellated archi- 
 tecture in the reign of Richard II. whenit waseretted 
 by Sir Ralph Lumley. It almost approaches the 
 brink of the steep descent which hurries down to 
 the foaming Wear, admitting only a path or terrace 
 between its walls and the brink. 
 
 The hall is a striking apartment, and instantly 
 brings back the times of old to the mind, the 
 feudal practices, and ancient English manners. It 
 measures ninety feet in length, has its gallery for 
 minstrelsy ; exhibits a figure on horseback, clad in 
 armour; and has its walls cloathed with imaginary 
 portraits of the Lumley family . They are as follow : 
 i. Leulphus. 2. Uchtred. 3. Gulielmus, who 
 married Hesleden. 4. Sir William Lumley. 5. 
 William de Lumley, who married Dandre. 6. Sir 
 Robert de Lumley, who married Lucy Thevenge. 
 7. Sir Marmaduke Lumley, who married Margaret 
 Holland. 8. Sir Ralph de Lumley, the first baron, 
 in his parliament robes, who built the mansion. 
 9. Sir Johnde Lumley, who married Felicia Redman. 
 1 o. Richard II. in his royal chair, Lord Lumley in 
 his robes kneeling; above the figure, " R. R. II. 
 A.D. 1385, A. Reg. 8." 1 1. Sir Thomas Lumley, 
 who married Margaret daughter of Sir James Har-
 
 [ 299 ] 
 
 rington. 1 2. George Lord Lumley, who married 
 Elizabeth Thornton. 13. Sir Thomas Lumley, 
 who married Elizabeth natural daughter to Ed- 
 ward IV. 14. John de Lumley, who married 
 Joan daughter of Henry Lord Scrope. 1 5. Richard 
 de Lumley, who married Ann daughter of Sir John 
 Conyers. 1 6. George Lumley, who married Jane 
 daughter of Sir Richard Knightly. 1 7. Elizabeth, 
 daughter of Lord Dareye, of Chiche, and second 
 wife of Sir John Lumley, who was restored in 
 blood the first year of Edward VI. There are 
 also several marble busts in niches. 
 
 The dining-room is a magnificent room, coved 
 
 ceiling, and stuccoed; but unfinished. Its views, 
 
 both home and distant, are beautiful; we there find 
 
 Ralph. Lumley, a small whole length. Marked 
 
 1567. JEtat. 78. 
 
 John Lord Lumley was son of George Lumley, 
 who was executed for high-treason temp. Henry VIII. 
 but this peer, on the death of his grandfather, pe- 
 titioned against the attainder of his father, and was 
 relieved from its penalties, by receiving from 
 Edward VI. the title and estate of Baron Lumley. 
 Previous to the coronation, he was made knight of 
 the Bath by Queen Mary, and held considerable 
 employments under Elizabeth; but was imprisoned 
 op suspicion of encouraging the designed marriage
 
 300 2 
 
 of Mary Queen of Scots with the Duke of Norfolk. 
 His name afterwards appears in the commission 
 for the trial of that unfortunate princess; and in 
 the following year for that of Secretary Davison, 
 accused of sending the warrant for Mary's execu- 
 tion, without the knowledge of Elizabeth; for 
 which he was sentenced to imprisonment, and a 
 fine of i o,oool. He was not less in the estima- 
 tion of James I. who purchased his valuable col- 
 lection of books, (after his decease) which formed 
 the ground- work of the royal library. Ob. 1609. 
 
 Ferdinand de Toledo Duke of Aha, whose life 
 displays as many and as great military exploits as 
 were ever atchieved by an individual commander; 
 but the glory of which was totally eclipsed by. the 
 rigour and cruelty which he practised upon those 
 who were conquered by the Spanish forces. Of 
 his savage temper some calculation may be formed, 
 from his boast of having, during his command in 
 the Low Countries, caused eighteen thousand per- 
 sons to perish by the executioner. Ob. 1 582, a^t. 74. 
 
 Jane Fitzallan, eldest daughter and co-heiress 
 of Henry Earl of Arundel, wife of John Lord 
 Lumley. She is deservedly celebrated as a learned 
 lady by Ballard and Lord Orford, having translated 
 many Latin and Greek authors. 
 
 James Duke of Monmouth.
 
 [ 301 ] 
 
 In the music-room, we find 
 
 Ambrose Dudley Earl of Warwick, son of John the 
 great Duke of Northumberland; he was regarded 
 as one of the brightest ornaments in the court of 
 Elizabeth, by whom he was created Earl of War- 
 wick. He signalized himself by his valour at the 
 battle of St. Quintin, and his passive fortitude in 
 defending Havre de Grace, of which he was go- 
 vernor, and wherein he received a wound in his 
 leg, of which he died 1589. 
 
 John Lord Lumley, 1583, in splendid steel ar- 
 mour, studded with gold. 
 
 Thomas Ratcliff Earl of Sussex, a grand full 
 length. He was equally a favourite with Elizabeth 
 and Mary, and lord-deputy of Ireland in both reigns. 
 Obiit 1583. He is represented in elegant white 
 armour, with gold embroidered breeches; and this 
 motto Amando et fidendo troppo son ruinato. 
 
 Duke of Suffolk, 1598. Either the title or date 
 on this picture must be erroneous, as the last 
 Duke of Suffolk died 1553. Judge Lumley, 1583. 
 Richard Bertie married Catherine widow of 
 Charles Brandon Duke of Suffolk. Ob. 1582. 
 Villiers Duke of Buckingham. Killegrew and his dog. 
 
 Sir Tho??ias More, in a furred robe and Capuchin 
 cap. This bright ornament of the 16th century 
 was the first lay chancellor on record. His pro-
 
 [ 302 ] 
 
 found erudition, mild worth, and deep penetration 
 have endeared his name to posterity; though they 
 were not sufficient recommendations to the tyrant 
 Henry, who acknowledged no laws above his own 
 will and pleasure; and who having, without cere- 
 mony, placed himself at the head of the church, ex- 
 pected as ready sacrifices to convenience from all 
 his subjects ; but More, who could not so soon 
 " quiet saucy conscience," resigned his situation; 
 and still continuing to deny the king's supremacy, 
 was doomed to experience the weight of his power, 
 and was executed on Tower-hill, 1535. JEt. 62. 
 
 In the drawing-roomy 
 
 Sir Anthony Browne was master of the horse to 
 Henry VIII. and one of the executors to his will. 
 This is a most curious half-length. Lord Town- 
 shcnd. A singular groupe of four half-lengths, 
 portraits of high antiquity; purporting to be Zr- 
 bcdce, his wife, and two sons. Lady Sydney, 
 daughter to Secretary Walsingham, wife to Robert 
 Earl of Essex; by Holbein. John Duke cfArgylc; 
 whole length. Sir Thomas Saunderson Lumley, 
 third Earl of Scarborough ; whole length. Thomas 
 Windham, M.D.L, drowned on the coast of 
 Guinea, 1550. Sir George Savillc, connected 
 with the Lumlcys by the marriage of his sister 
 Barbara to Richard late Lord Scarborough, whose
 
 [ 303 ] 
 
 Second" son inherits the estate, and bears the name 
 of Saville. Sir John Petre; half-length. A very- 
 fine picture, but wilfully defaced by a scoundrelly 
 broker, because it was not to be purchased. 
 
 Andrew Dona, a very fine half-length on wood; 
 inscribed pater patriae, and never was title more de- 
 servedly bestowed on any man. He was of an 
 ancient Genoese family, and appears literally to 
 have been a warrior by profession, having been 
 equally engaged for and against Francis I. and 
 Charles V. to both of whom he successively proved 
 of service and injury. He nobly refused the so- 
 vereignty of his own country; and preferred to have 
 his name recorded as its deliverer, by repressing 
 the conspiracy of Lewis de Fiesco. He died at 
 Genoa 1560, ost. 94; when his countrymen did 
 honour to themselves, in erecting a monument to the 
 memory of this great patriot and naval commander. 
 
 Henry Howard Earl of Surrey ; half-length. He 
 was amongst the numerous victims who yielded to 
 the relentless temper of Henry VIII. who never 
 spared woman in his lust, nor man in his wrath. 
 This proud ornament of the age in which he lived 
 fell a sacrifice to the jealousy of that monarch, who 
 suspected that he aspired to the crown, because he 
 had quartered the arms of Edward the Confessor 
 on his scutcheon; he was, therefore, condemned
 
 [ 304 ] 
 
 and beheaded, after the formality of a trial, 1 546. 
 Pope, in his ' Windsor-Forest,* has paid this tri- 
 bute to one of the first refiners of English poetry: 
 
 " Here noble Surrey felt the sacred rage, 
 
 ** Surrey the Granville of a former age ; 
 
 " Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance ; 
 
 " Bold in the lists, and graceful in the dance." 
 
 Henry Earl of Arundel, (half-length) the last of 
 the name of Fitzallan. He was greatly instrumen- 
 tal in fixing Mary on the throne, by whom he was 
 appointed steward of the houshold, and retained 
 his employment under Elizabeth; during whose 
 reign he first introduced the use of coaches into 
 England, having imported one of these vehicles 
 from France, where he had retired, on finding that 
 Leicester had supplanted him in the queen's fa- 
 vour. But, on his return home, he joined his rival 
 and others in a plot against Cecil. Ob. 1579. 
 
 Robert Dudley Earl of Leicester; half-length; 
 in a very fashionable dress of Elizabeth's time, 
 crouded with point. He is reported to have in- 
 troduced into England a fashion which has fortu- 
 nately not continued in such high estimation or 
 constant use as the invention of his rival, namely, 
 " the Art of Poisoning;" having, according to 
 ' Howel's Letters,' vol. iv. p. 451, endeavoured to
 
 [ 305 ] 
 
 persuade Walsingham that it would be lawful to 
 poison Mary Queen of Scots. Ob. 1588. 
 
 In the dressing-room, 
 
 SirWilliamPetre, secretary of state to Henry VIII. 
 Mary, Elizabeth, and Edward VI. It is probable 
 that he owed his good fortune, in retaining his 
 post in reigns of such different tempers, to the po- 
 litic maxim of a contemporary statesman, namely, 
 " by being supple as the willow, not stubborn as 
 the oak." Sir Anthony Browne Viscount Montacute. 
 
 We had now reached the coal country, marks of 
 which appeared at Lumley, where are pits and en- 
 gines in the very neighbourhood of the castle. All 
 beauty of scenery vanished from this point, and 
 nothing occurred to make amends for the loss but 
 two or three little villages, entirely inhabited by 
 colliers, who are employed in the mines to supply 
 the immense fleets of Sunderland with their freights 
 of coal. That of Warden- Row presented a very 
 agreeable picture, as we passed through it on the 
 Sunday evening, peopled entirely by these sons of 
 the earth and their families; we here saw a de- 
 cency in persons and habitations, and a decorum 
 and civility in manners and behaviour, that one 
 seldom meets with in more refined societies of men; 
 which told so much in their favour, when placed 
 in comparison with most of the towns through
 
 [ 306 ] 
 
 which we had passed, as drew from V a similar 
 observation with the stranger at the Athenian 
 theatre, that though the inhabitants of other places 
 may know what courtesy is, yet those of Warden- 
 Row practice it. 
 
 Sunderland, situated on a tongue of land, de- 
 scending steeply to the river, is not seen till it be 
 nearly approached, and offers an handsome en- 
 trance through a street of modern houses, a new 
 creation grown out of the improving trade of the 
 place. It consists chiefly of one good street of 
 great length, another of less consideration in a 
 parallel direction, and several lateral ones diverging 
 from the principal one at right angles. An im- 
 mense increase of population had arisen from the 
 successful prosecution of the coal trade, which was 
 rapidly increasing till the war checked the spirit of 
 speculation. It numbers, however, at present, un- 
 der every disadvantage, including the adjacent ham- 
 lets of Bishop-Wearmouth, Monk-Wearmouth, 
 and the north side, are estimated at forty-two 
 thousand inhabitants. 
 
 Four different bodies of people extract a profit 
 from the Sunderland coals, before they appear in a 
 foreign market: The colliers, who dig them; the 
 proprietors of the mines, who sell them to the third 
 description of people, the Jitters, a sort of middle-
 
 [ 307 ] 
 
 men, who bring the article from the mines, and 
 deliver them to the fourth description of persons 
 concerned -the merchants. The largest profit is 
 derived to the Jitters, whose risque is nothing, and 
 payment prompt. They receive about a shilling a 
 chaldron for coal sold, and for the trouble of pro- 
 viding keels and keelmen, who, however, are paid 
 for by the ship-owners; and the fortunes acquired 
 in this place are generally by them. Indeed, of 
 late the trade altogether was rather a losing con- 
 cern ; and during the Northern disagreement, when 
 the ports of the Baltic were shut, many of those 
 concerned in it were compelled to live upon their 
 capitals. The truth is, a very large proportion of 
 the coals are taken offby the Northern ports; but, 
 by being excluded from a sale there, the merchants 
 were under the necessity of sending them toLondon. 
 Here the market was over-stocked, and the article 
 consequently remained unsold, or at least was dis- 
 posed of to disadvantage. The merchants, there- 
 fore, as the lesser evil, relinquished their specula- 
 tion, and laid up their ships; but still continued 
 subject to a considerable loss in the maintenance of 
 the crews, who, being chiefly apprentices, were to 
 be kept in food and cloathing, notwithstanding 
 they could make no return by their labours. On 
 the opening of the Northern ports, however, trade 
 vol. i. x
 
 [ 308 ] 
 
 found its level again, and is bow carried on as 
 briskly as before. The Sunderland coals are very 
 good, but so slow in their combustion, that they 
 are proverbially said to make three fires. 
 
 The greatest objecl: of curiosity in Sunderland is 
 its iron bridge thrown across the river Wear, form- 
 ing an arch so lofty as to allow large ships to pass 
 under it with only their top-gallant masts lowered. 
 Tom Paine (as I have before observed) was 
 the original inventor of these extraordinary struc- 
 tures, the grandest specimens, perhaps, of the 
 powers of modern art; Mr. Burdon afterwards 
 improved upon his ideas; but Mr. Wilson, who 
 now lives upon Sunderland bridge, put the finish- 
 ing hand to the invention, by suggesting the perfeft 
 plan on which this vast fabric is constructed. It 
 is formed of cast-iron, and cost 30,0001. The 
 span of the arch is two hundred and thirty-six feet; 
 height one hundred; and the spring of the arch 
 thirty-three feet. The foundation-stone was laid 
 on the 24th of April 1793, and the bridge opened 
 for service on the 9th of August 1 796. A man who 
 attends at the toll-house for that purpose, intro- 
 duced us to a platform which commands a view of 
 tlie interior of the bridge; where our astonishment 
 was still more excited by tracing the detail of this 
 magnificent erection. We here observed that it
 
 [ 309 ] 
 
 was formed by six longitudinal ribs, each consist- 
 ing of one hundred and five joints nearly two feet 
 in length, bound together by huge cylindrical tubes 
 of cast iron, forming horizontal and perpendicular 
 cross-pieces. Large circular rings of solid iron, 
 gradually diminishing from the abutments to the 
 centre of the bridge, connect the ribs with the plat- 
 form. The largest of these measures in diameter 
 forty-two feet, and weighs upwards of two tons. 
 The obvious advantages of these structures over 
 stone bridges a lessened expence, a speedier erect- 
 ion, and a greater durability have rendered them 
 very common since this at Sunderland was put up. 
 Mr. Wilson very properly enjoys nearly the ex- 
 clusive advantage of designing and superintending 
 them; and has lately shipped for Jamaica one 
 upon an immense scale, to be erected at Kingston in 
 that island. 
 
 Passing over this noble bridge, we changed our 
 eastern direction, and taking a north-western 
 route, advanced through a country deformed by 
 collieries, curiousbutunpicturesque, towards Gates- 
 head, built upon the southern steep bank of the 
 Tyne, and separated from Newcastle only by the 
 interjection of that river. This is a large place, 
 containing 7 1 4 houses, 1467 families, 2806 males, 
 and 3238 females 5 and enjoying the same trade,
 
 [ 310 ] 
 
 though not so large a portion of it as its important 
 neighbour. . On passing the bridge connecting this 
 place with Newcastle, we could not but recollect 
 the fatal catastrophe which had happened at the 
 same spot in the year 1771, when a heavy fall of 
 rain occasioned such a prodigious inundation in the 
 river, as swept away the old stone bridge, which 
 had braved the tempests of heaven and the rage of 
 the waters for five hundred years, and carried off 
 at the same time ten houses, in which were six 
 living human creatures. Nothing could heighten 
 the terrors of the scene so much as the " loud 
 " laments" which issued from the unfortunate suf- 
 ferers, who for a long time had the horrible pros- 
 peel of inevitable destruction before their eyes, by 
 the lingering fall of the house in which they were, 
 nodding over the abyss of waters before it fell; 
 and no human exertions availing to prevent the 
 crash, or save the inmates. 
 
 The vast trade of Newcastle is visible on first 
 entering it, from the bustle of its quays, and 
 the animation of its streets. This chiefly consists 
 of the coal-trade, which it has enjoyed for several 
 centuries past. As early as the thirteenth century, 
 the inhabitants of Newcastle exported this useful 
 fossil to the continent, and in the ensuing one 
 fpund a market for it in the metropolis. Singular
 
 [ 311 ] 
 
 to say, the backwardness in the articles of conve- 
 nience, or the ignorance of our ancestors, was such, 
 that even in the reign of Edward I. coals were 
 considered in London as a nuisance, and on a peti- 
 tion of the inhabitants of the metropolis in 1307, 
 a proclamation was issued by the king, forbidding 
 the burning of coals to the trades which were sup- 
 ported by their use. This absurd prohibition con- 
 tinued in force for above half a century, when good 
 sense at last triumphed; it was permitted to bring 
 the article to London under the small duty of six- 
 pence per ton for every ship that came from New- 
 castle. Increasing very rapidly from this time, the 
 coal trade became an important object of attention 
 to government, which issued, irt 1 42 1 , several regu- 
 lations respecting the length of the keels, in order 
 to ascertain the quantity of coals- shipped at the 
 port, and the duty to be paid there. Improving 
 with the gradual extension of commerce, Newcastle 
 is now the first place in the world for the coal- 
 trade; its exports are calculated at 589,600, and 
 its home consumption at 100,000, Newcastle chal- 
 drons. This immense produce is supplied from 
 collieries in the neighbourhood of the place; the 
 principal of which, their names, and depths, arc 
 as follow:
 
 [ 312 ] 
 
 NORTH. 
 
 
 SOUTH. 
 
 Below Bridge. 
 
 
 Below Bridge. 
 
 
 Fathom. 
 
 Fathom, 
 
 St. Anthem's 
 
 135 
 
 Sherift-Hill 80 
 
 Heaton-Main 
 
 80 
 
 Tyne-Main 65 
 
 Walker - - 
 
 10O 
 
 Brandling ditto 7 
 
 Bigg's- Main 
 
 90 
 
 Usworth - - 77 
 
 Wall's-End - 
 
 105 
 
 Hebburn - 132 
 
 Burton - - - 
 
 105 
 
 
 Wellington 
 
 121 
 
 
 Flatworth 
 
 86 
 
 
 Above Bridge. 
 
 
 Above Bridge. 
 
 Wylam - - 
 
 32 
 
 Whitefield - 45 
 
 Walbottle 
 
 51 
 
 Pontop - - 80 
 
 Baker's-Main 
 
 15 
 
 Tan field - 45 
 
 Montagu ditto 
 
 60 
 
 South-Moor 45 
 
 Kenton - - 
 
 70 
 
 Low-Moor - 6 
 
 Adair's-Main 
 
 95 
 
 Team - - 6o 
 
 The stratification of these works is for the most 
 part more horizontal than that of other great fields 
 of coal, particularly below the bridge to the east 
 of the town, where the general declination to the 
 north-east may be about one foot in seven yards. 
 Brown and white freestone, here called post, and 
 argillaceous schistus of various thickness aucl 
 hardness, called blue, grey, or black metal, or 
 metal-stone, (according to their hardness, and pro- 
 portion of gritty and micacious particles) are the 
 accompanying strata', their orders and thickness,, 
 as well as of the beds of coal varying in the differ- 
 ent works. The coal produced from these mines
 
 r 
 
 C 313 ] 
 
 is, for the most part light, friable, full of bitumen, 
 caking in burning, and leaving a cinder after re- 
 peated burnings with little ashes, and these of a red- 
 dish brown colour. This is the better sort; the 
 inferior burns more quickly, makes less cinder, and 
 leaves white ashes, but is not much esteemed. 
 The whole of this is brought down from the 
 works in waggons along rail-roads, and poured, 
 by covered wooden channels called staiths, (run 
 up at the edge of the river near the works) 
 into boats, or keels as they are here denominated, 
 a clumsy oval vessel, carrying about twenty tons 
 each. These convey the freight to the vessels. 
 The coal-mines are chiefly, though not all, worked 
 by companies of undertakers, who receive leases 
 from the landed proprietors for that purpose. From 
 these people the jitter receive the article, and 
 deliver it to the ship-owner, who pays them in notes 
 of six weeks date, and runs the risque of the sale 
 in London. The number of people employed 
 oil the river in this vast trade are as follows ; Col- 
 liers, 6700; Keelmen, 1547; Trimmers, 1000; 
 Seamen, 9000. The population of Newcastle, 
 exclusive of Gateshead, is 28,294; of which 
 15,945 are females, and only 12,349 males. 
 The houses amount to 3276, and the families to 
 6845; a calculation that gives 8y to a house, and
 
 C 314 ] 
 
 4I to a family. The number of shipping cleared 
 out from this port last year will at once give you 
 an idea of the extent of its trade. There were 
 7840 vessels employed in exporting coal, coal-tar, 
 and cinders; grind-stones, lead in all its forms; 
 iron, wrought and cast; glass, pottery, bricks and 
 tiles, particularly fire-bricks; colours, copperas, 
 soda, butter, bacon, &c. and in importing timber, 
 bar-iron, hemp and flax, seeds, corn, tallow, smelts, 
 port- wine in vast quantities, and brandy; and 
 West-India produce, brought by three or four 
 ships yearly direct from Jamaica. 
 
 The manufactures of Newcastle, also, (including 
 some other places on the river) are very numerous; 
 they may be divided into two classes. First; such 
 as depend chiefly on the cheapness of fuel: 
 
 1. Glass-works; of these there are twenty-one 
 on the river, at Newcastle, Lemington, and South- 
 Shields; where crown and broad window-glass, 
 and flint green and common wine-bottles are made. 
 
 2. Potteries; of these there are seven employed 
 in the manufactory of Queen's-warc, and some 
 others for coarse and common ditto. 
 
 3. Iron- works; which divide themselves into, 
 1st. the extensive wrought-iron work (the largest 
 in the kingdom) called Crawley's, where every 
 thing is made, from the heaviest anchor to the
 
 C 315 ] 
 
 common hoe; and an important discovery lately 
 adopted, of converting pig iron into bar ditto. To 
 this work must also be added that of Messrs. 
 Hawkes', at New-Deptford, on the south shore, 
 contiguous to Gateshead, id. The steel-manur 
 factories at S wall well, Team, &c. ^d. A new 
 smelting- work at Lemington, where the iron-stone 
 procured from Whitley and Scarborough is smelted. 
 4th. A great many founderies. 
 
 4. Lead- works; which also admit of the follow- 
 ing divisions : 1st. Five works for the manufactory 
 of white and red lead, and litharge. 2d. Two or 
 three refineries for extracting the silver from lead. 
 
 5. Several extensive works for the manufacture 
 of copperas from the pyrites in the coal-mines, 
 
 6. Colour-works. 
 
 7. Salt-works; these, indeed, have much de- 
 clined since the great extension of the Cheshire 
 salt trade. The salt is chiefly produced from sea- 
 water, by evaporation; but some is procured also 
 from salt-springs; one of which is applied to 
 
 8. A Soda- work; for the making of which its 
 brine is particularly exempted from the salt-duty. 
 
 9. Soap-works. 10. Two extensive works for 
 coal-tar, varnish, and lamp-black. 
 
 1 1 . Smelts and sal-ammoniac works, 
 vol. 1. y
 
 t 316 1 
 
 The Second great division of the manufactories 
 of Newcastle are those connected with shipping; 
 i . Many Ship-yards and Docks. 
 
 2. Several Roperies; particularly a very exten- 
 sive patent work belonging to Messrs. Chapman. 
 
 3. Several Sail-Cloth factories. 
 
 To the above list may be added Mr. William 
 Parkers patent Shot-Manufa&ory, rearing its lofty 
 head above the other buildings of the town. This 
 structure is built in the form of a circular tower 
 one hundred and seventy-three feet high, mounted 
 on the inside by a spiral stair-case. At the sum- 
 mit within the roof is a gallery from whence the 
 workmen pour the liquid lead, to make the shot; 
 which passing through a sieve, falls like a shower 
 of rain into tubs of water placed at the bottom of 
 the building; acquiring by these means that exaft 
 spherical figure which gives it the superiority over 
 every other sort of shot. The manufactory em- 
 ploys about 8o people. From the balcony on the 
 outside of the tower, a grand view is taken of the 
 town, the river " studded thick with many a sail," 
 and the adjoining dingy but well-peopled country. 
 Your^s, &c. R. W. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 

 
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