MISCELLANY
28
THOMAS
FROGNALL DIBDIN’S CULTURAL TOUR OF LINCOLNSHIRE (1818): III
The
Excursion continues to Belvoir Castle...
As we turned our backs upon Grantham, my young
rectorial friend observed to me, quoting Johnson, who made use of the
expression in a similar situation,—" Life, sir, has few pleasanter things
than this." To the left, on gently elevated ground, and about two miles
from Grantham, we were struck with the rising gothic glories of the residence
of — Gregory, Esq. It is built on the Tudor plan of architecture; and no cost
is spared for its continuance and completion in the most correct and splendid
manner. I learnt that the drawing-room was one hundred feet in length: from the
windows of which is seen Belvoir Castle in all its pride and plenitude of
effect. Mr. Gregory has the rare merit of being chiefly his own architect, with
a thorough knowledge of the business in hand. Now and then, however, it is said
that Mr. Blore whispers in his ear. We began to gain upon the castle. On
striking out of the road, shortly after you pass the comfortable and capacious
residence of * * * —(where my friend informed me he was always sure of the best
leg of roasted mutton, with a Yorkshire pudding subjoined, in the county) you
strike into fields divided by gates, or bars, which mustbe all opened in
passing through. And now, the nearer you approach, the more elevated and
imposing the castle stands; throwing its turrets, and pinnacles, and
battlements, high into air, over which the clouds were floating in fleecy
majesty, casting their broad and brown shadows below. The bridge is gained, and
the castle is direct in view; but as you prepare to ascend, the road winds
midst beautiful trees, many of which, on the edge of sharp acclivities, spread
their luxuriant and superincumbent branches in a manner perfectly enchanting.
If it be not Salvator Rosa, it is at least a grand Mola. Here is a slight
ravine; there a swelling knoll: and all the sylvan glories of aged and
picturesque oak, with elm, beech, larch, and fir, seem to prepare you for some
ancestral residence of ancient renown—where stags' heads, cross-bows,
battle-axes, swords, daggers, and targets, are intermixed in all the
picturesque grouping of an experienced hand. Had but a few well-mounted and
well-armed horsemen, with feathered hats and short cloaks, darting across the
road in a hurried and mysterious manner—as if to "take the castle by
surprise"—only accompanied this scene, the effect had wanted little short
of the most romantic perfection. But our realities were sufficiently
gratifying. As you approach the porte-cocher, you pass the glacis, upon which a
few slender cannon are fixed, but which, if discharged with a due portion of
iron within, would sweep chaise, horses, and riders, to destruction in an
instant. The porte-cocher echoes to the rumbling noise of the wheels, and tramp
of the horses' feet. The bolts slip from the entrance door, and in a trice you
find youself within the mazes of the castle. Its noble owner, the Duke of
Rutland, had kindly prepared a ready reception for me; and when we drew up, and
let down the carriage step, the head-servant exclaimed,—" We have been
expecting you, Sir, these four days." It was doubtless a great drawback
for me to have missed the society of the Rev. Mr. Thoroton, his Grace's
chaplain, and the constant inmate of the castle: a gentleman, who unites
architectural taste* with antiquarian lore, in the happiest and most instruc* The
late Rev. Sir John Thoroton, chaplain to his Grace, was not only the principal
architect of the exterior of two sides of the castle, after the melancholy fire
in 1816, but was also the planner of the greater part of the interior
decoration. The destructive fire here alluded to, burnt down two sides of the
to answer every idle question, that it were unwise to indulge in regrets of any
description; and I resolved to make the best of that time which now began to
glide too swiftly away. I had scarcely recovered my first surprise, and was
beginning to put my first questions, when we were hurried away towards the beer
and wine cellars. "Gentlemen," said our leader and guide, "you
must taste the oldest ale in the castle,—brewed, in all probability, before
that young lady, (pointing to my daughter) was born." It were unchivalrous
to have enquired its exact age: but after circum-ambulating vats and casks, in
almost countless number, and of every size, colossal and pigmy, we approached
the venerable monster of other times; and each drank a wine glass of its
contents to the health of the noble owner of the castle. The strength and the
flavour of this "barley broth" were, to my palate, either decomposed,
or passed away. While tasting this "malt of other days," it was natural
to make some allusion to the recent coming of age of the Marquis of Granby, the
duke's eldest son, who had attained his majority the preceding year. "You
kept it up merrily, did you not, and exhausted a good many of these hogsheads
of ale?" The head cellar-man emphatically replied:—" Sir, it was
pretty well for that : not a labourer, or wayfaring man, within seven miles of
the castle, went to bed sober that night. The tenants had only to ask and to
have."—" Excellent, i'faith," rejoined my warm-hearted
companion. "This is as it should be. I only regret that Carlton Scroop is
double the distance, or I might—" "Do not let that discompose you,
sir," rejoined the commander-in-chief of the cellar; "here is plenty
upon which you can now make up for past disappointment." It was with
reluctance we took leave of this very respectable, intelligent, and pleasantly
colloquial tapster. But it was high time to ascend; having fairly begun at the
foundation, or lower regions of the building. We reached the chief hall of
entrance, lighted with stained-glass windows, and ornamented with the Louis
Quatorze gilt frame-work, enclosing panels upon which armorial emblems, or
other ornaments, are painted.* The hall, being chiefly lit up from an inner
quadrangle, has necessarily no superabundance of light; and now the heavens
became darkened, and the shades of evening seemed prematurely to attend the
second hour after mid-day. be all opened in passing through. And now, the
nearer you approach, the more elevated and imposing the castle stands; throwing
its turrets, and pinnacles, and battlements, high into air, over which the
clouds were floating in fleecy majesty, casting their broad and brown shadows
below. The bridge is gained, and the castle is direct in view; but as you prepare
to ascend, the road winds midst beautiful trees, many of which, on the edge of
sharp acclivities, spread their luxuriant and superincumbent branches in a
manner perfectly enchanting. If it be not Salvator Rosa, it is at least a grand
Mola. Here is a slight ravine; there a swelling knoll: and all the sylvan
glories of aged and picturesque oak, with elm, beech, larch, and fir, seem to
prepare you for some ancestral residence of ancient renown—where stags' heads,
cross-bows, battle-axes, swords, daggers, and targets, are intermixed in all
the picturesque grouping of an experienced hand. Had but a few well-mounted and
well-armed horsemen, with feathered hats and short cloaks, darting across the
road in a hurried and mysterious manner—as if to "take the castle by
surprise"—only accompanied this scene, the effect had wanted little short
of the most romantic perfection. But our realities were sufficiently
gratifying. As you approach the porte-cocher, you pass the glacis, upon which a
few slender cannon are fixed, but which, if discharged with a due portion of
iron within, would sweep chaise, horses, and riders, to destruction in an
instant. The porte-cocher echoes to the rumbling noise of the wheels, and tramp
of the horses' feet. The bolts slip from the entrance door, and in a trice you
find youself within the mazes of the castle. Its noble owner, the Duke of
Rutland, had kindly prepared a ready reception for me; and when we drew up, and
let down the carriage step, the head-servant exclaimed,—" We have been expecting
you, Sir, these four days." It was doubtless a great drawback for me to
have missed the society of the Rev. Mr. Thoroton, his Grace's chaplain, and the
constant inmate of the castle: a gentleman, who unites architectural taste*
with antiquarian lore, in the happiest and most instruc* The late Rev. Sir John
Thoroton, chaplain to his Grace, was not only the principal architect of the
exterior of two sides of the castle, after the melancholy fire in 1816, but was
also the planner of the greater part of the interior decoration. The
destructive fire here alluded to, burnt down two sides of the to answer every
idle question, that it were unwise to indulge in regrets of any description;
and I resolved to make the best of that time which now began to glide too swiftly
away. I had scarcely recovered my first surprise, and was beginning to put my
first questions, when we were hurried away towards the beer and wine cellars.
"Gentlemen," said our leader and guide, "you must taste the
oldest ale in the castle,—brewed, in all probability, before that young lady,
(pointing to my daughter) was born." It were unchivalrous to have enquired
its exact age: but after circum-ambulating vats and casks, in almost countless
number, and of every size, colossal and pigmy, we approached the venerable
monster of other times; and each drank a wine glass of its contents to the
health of the noble owner of the castle. The strength and the flavour of this
"barley broth" were, to my palate, either decomposed, or passed away.
While tasting this "malt of other days," it was natural to make some
allusion to the recent coming of age of the Marquis of Granby, the duke's
eldest son, who had attained his majority the preceding year. "You kept it
up merrily, did you not, and exhausted a good many of these hogsheads of
ale?" The head cellar-man emphatically replied:—" Sir, it was pretty
well for that : not a labourer, or wayfaring man, within seven miles of the
castle, went to bed sober that night. The tenants had only to ask and to have."—"
Excellent, i'faith," rejoined my warm-hearted companion. "This is as
it should be. I only regret that Carlton Scroop is double the distance, or I
might—" "Do not let that discompose you, sir," rejoined the
commander-in-chief of the cellar; "here is plenty upon which you can now
make up for past disappointment." It was with reluctance we took leave of
this very respectable, intelligent, and pleasantly colloquial tapster. But it
was high time to ascend; having fairly begun at the foundation, or lower
regions of the building. We reached the chief hall of entrance, lighted with
stained-glass windows, and ornamented with the Louis Quatorze gilt frame-work,
enclosing panels upon which armorial emblems, or other ornaments, are painted.*
The hall, being chiefly lit up from an inner quadrangle, has necessarily no
superabundance of light; and now the heavens became darkened, and the shades of
evening seemed prematurely to attend the second hour after mid-day. I requested
the principal attendant to take me to the Picture Gallery, that I might, at
least, have the full benefit of what light it was permitted us to enjoy; and I
sighed inwardly as I entered it. Wherefore, gentle reader, was that sigh? You
shall know. About twenty years ago, a destructive firef consumed upwards of one
hundred pictures, * The duke informs me that these ornaments were purchased at
the sale of some furniture from one of the chateaux of Madame de Main tenon. f
This fire, alluded to in the last note but one, took place in 1816. An
enlargement, or alteration, of the picture gallery was in contem F (some of
them of the finest quality, and executed by the Italian masters) among which
were not fewer than nineteen by the hand of our immortal Reynolds. In this
number, was the famous Nativity, painted as the central piece for the stained
glass window in New College, Oxford: a picture, of which, alone, the value
might have been estimated at five thousand guineas.* In consequence of this
sweeping destruction, there are only two Sir Joshua's at Belvoir: plation; and,
as above intimated, upwards of one hundred pictures were removed into the new,
but unfinished, room. The workmen had been employed all day in substantial
repairs, and a ladder, leading to a trap-door above, afforded them ingress and
egress. Along a corridor, were some servants' rooms. The family were all
absent; and the castle was but thinly inhabited. About two in the morning, a
servant maid, who had been kept awake by an agonizing toothache, fancied the
moon was shining with unusual splendour; and rising up to satisfy herself, saw
a light streaming through her chamber door, which, fortunately, had not been
shut. To this succeeded what she considered to be the tramp of human feet, as
of the workmen going up and down the ladder: a noise, which, in fact, was the effect
of the furniture snapping from the progressing fire. Springing from her bed,
and reaching the corridor, the dreadful cause of this increasing light and
noise was but too palpable. With the feet of Atalanta, the young woman ran from
one end of the corridor to the other. The alarm-bell was rung... and assistance
was obtained just in time to save—only one half of the castle! * His Grace,
with becoming philosophy, feels more than negative consolation, in reflecting
that, had this magnificent picture still been his property, the contention sale
of the late Marchioness of Thomond's pictures. portraits of the duke and his
sister when children.* But, as it is, here is a very fine display of ancient
art; receiving, most judiciously, the light from above. In this collection, I
was so struck with an old panelled picture of Henry VII, attended by Empson and
Dudley, that, requesting his Grace's permission to have it engraved, the reader
is, in consequence, presented with it in the Opposite Plate. There is a fine St.
Andrew, by Spagnoletto, such as is hardly to be seen throughout Scotland,— of
which country that Saint is the legendary patron. A small picture of an
alchemist, by Teniers, betrays the most felicitous execution imaginable in the
treatment of the accessories. Here is also a fine Murillo, which, by some, may
be supposed to disputethe palm of excellency with a picture, by the same
master, in the chapel. The chapel is very neat, and of a subdued character
throughout; but the Murillo altar-piece is alone a gem to brighten it up with
no ordinary splendour. It is, I understand, insured for three thousand guineas.
I now hastened to the Library ; of the character of which I was not
unacquainted, from specimens which I had often seen in the hands of Mr. Robert
Triphook. Here are the Cicero's Offices of 1465, and Schoeffher's Valerius
Maximus, 1471, both upon vellum: fine, genuine tomes, such as delight the eye
and warm the heart. The Epist. ad * There is also a portrait of the duke's
father, painted by Sir Joshua, which was given him by the late king. F 2
Familiar es, of 1469, is also upon vellum; but one could have wished the copy
taller. The celebrated Maittaire* had the principal collection of this library
for the first Duke of Rutland, of whom he was the tutor; and here is,
consequently, a very considerable body of Greek and Latin classics. A finer set
of the quarto Delphins, (including the Catullus and Statius) is rarely seen:
but the book of all books— in its way—which took possession of my fancy and
remembrance, is the large-paper copy of Horsley's Britannia Romana, in old
morocco binding, of dimensions scarcely to be equalled, and in condition quite
unsurpassable. There is a fine genuine mellow tone over the whole library,
(which is of comparatively limited dimensions) which renders it exceedingly
interesting to the eye of an experienced book antiquary. It receives light
chiefly from an inner quadrangle, and the day being cloudy and gloomy, I could
not make that sort of reconnoissance which I wished to make. Largior hie campos
aether et lumine vestit Purpureo... These lines occurred to me as I emerged
into the * The present duke is in possession of a great number of letters,
written in Latin, from Maittaire to his noble pupil: who is reported to have
fagged with him in downright earnest. The earlier years of education of the
first Duke of Rutland had been much neglected; and like a young man of sense,
he became both a docile and an attached pupil to his master: who dedicated to
him his well-known set of the have had my "saying" of that
illustrious scholar. See Bibliog. Decam. vol. ii. 73. vol. iii. 302.
Regents Gallery, a room of nearly one hundred and
fifty feet in length, still left in an unfinished state. I soon made
acquaintance with the wholelength portrait of his Grace, shortly after coming
of age, painted by Hoppner. I had seen it on its first exhibition in Somerset
House, and it seemed to have gained much by the mellowness of effect produced
by time. The parts are fearlessly made out, and admirably treated. It is one of
the very cleverest pictures of the master in existence. Not far from it hangs
Lady Tyrconnel, by the pencil of Sir Joshua: a sweet performance, but too
highly placed. The famous Marquis of Granby, and Lord Robert Manners, (the
latter a stiff and very early picture by the same master) are also to be found
within the immediate circle. Over the fire-place is the worst portrait of the
late Duke of York which I remember to have seen: not by the hand of Lawrence.
Two busts, one of the present Duke, the other of his late Duchess, grace the
mantle-piece. Akin to this magnificent room, but of less dimensions,—although
furnished with a splendour and minuteness of ornament not to be surpassed,—is
the Duchess's Blue Drawing-room; so designated from the prevalence of a
light-blue silk damask occupying the principal panels, gorgeously encased in
gold. This is, in all respects, a very charming room. The proportions are good;
the prospect without is commanding; and the pencil has here achieved some very
delicious feats. The miniatures, by Oliver, Hoskins, Pettitot, Zincke, and
others, are numerous, and are so placed that the eye may come into ready
contact with them. The effect is admirable. As you enter the room, to the
right, and protected by a slight brass railing, there is a statue, in white
marble, of the late Duchess. It was to me startling. Perhaps its effect would
be better at the end of the gallery. Onwards, and at the opposite extremity,
are two paintings by Sanders, one of the Duke, in his coronation robes, the
other of the late Duchess, with a crayon in one hand, and a small portfolio in
the other,—demonstrative of her love and knowledge of art. Of this latter,
there is a most exquisite private plate, in mezzotint, by the matchless Cosins.
The Dining-room is sixty feet in length, with a ceiling (too low for such a
length) most elaborately ornamented; though I had wished the rosettes to have
been gilded, and the high relief to have been picked out in fawn or crimson
colour. A banquetting room can scarcely be too gay and gorgeous. A noble spread
of mahogany was in the centre of the room. This was, as it well might be so
designated, the state doubtless in a blaze of splendour, but the Regent's
Gallery is yet unfinished. I learnt, however, in spite of its elongation, that
it was a most comfortable withdrawing room in winter, when the castle was
usually crowded with guests, and "the wassail bowl" was always filled
to the brim. There are terraces about the exterior of the building, which shew
you, looking up, the colossal aspect of the four sides of the castle,
exhibiting specimens of the four styles of architecture in this kingdom. From
one of these terraces, seizing an opportunity of the sun breaking through a
huge mass of clouds, in which it had been too long enveloped, you obtain an
uninterrupted view of the Derbyshire hills; while Lincoln Cathedral, with the
spires of Newark and Grantham, are necessarily seen in other directions. The
wooded knolls had a surprising effect for variety and grandeur, and we learnt
that the greater part of this scenery, before us, owed its picturesque arrange-
ment to the taste of the late Duchess; who, by thinning in some places, let in
additional magnificence to the scenery. Many spots reminded me of the grand
wood-interiors of Gasparo Poussin, which have no rival in art. In a deep glen,
from which I learnt the earth was mainly brought for the founda- tion of the
castle, I observed the steam issuing upwards, as if from a huge cauldron, of
fifty times the capaciousness of that at Warwick Castle. The guide, seeing my
attention directed to that quarter, told us that it was Belvoir Hole, and
quoted the quaint couplets which ensue :— "When mist doth rise from
Belvoir Hole, O, then be sure the weather's foul: When Belvoir Castle wears a hood,
O, then, ye swains, look out for flood J" "Where is the
Mausoleum," observed I to the guide. "You cannot see it hence, sir;
but you doubtless will f" "There can be no doubt of that, my friend;
for I came as much to see the mausoleum as the castle." In three minutes
we were in the chaise, to go thither, it being a short quarter of a mile from
the house. The ground glistened with the descending moisture, upon which the
sun fully shone. A liveried servant attended us. We were told to stop at a
given point; when he left us, to get everything in preparation. The mausoleum
is shrouded in trees, and built upon a knoll. We were all anxiety; when,
casting our eyes upwards, we saw the servant standing before the building, and
waving his hat as the signal to advance. The exterior is not prepossessing. The
portion over the door should have received some ornamental relief, or have
terminated with some apposite frieze. Of all subjects of embellishment, Death
is the most fertile, and may be made the most soothingly impressive. We
approached with eagerness the Gates of Brass, which display themselves on
opening the outward door... and such a "display" I had not only no
where else seen, but could have no conception of. In form, these gates are as
simple as in finish they are exquisite; consisting entirely of rectangular
divisions, through which the eye is instantly fixed upon a marble statue of the
Duchess, (at a short distance) springing from an invisible tomb, looking
upwards to heaven, and extending her arms as if to receive a "crown of
glory" from one of four cherubic infants above,—the representatives of the
four children whom the Duchess had lost. Her figure is enveloped in
loosely-flowing drapery, of the Grecian form. The effect is much heightened by
the light streaming, from an invisible quarter, upon the Duchess and the
children. The latter are sweetly natural, and should seem to be a Murillo-group
in marble. The building was by Benjamin Wyatt, and the statue and children by
Matthew Wyatt. The side lights, in the ante-room, should be darkened or of whom
the building was erected—which graces the centre of the interior. Here, 'tis
said, at moonlight, and even at soft summer sun-sets, sweet music is heard, as
if from angelic harps... "——and voices, through the void Deep sounding,
seize th' enthusiastic ear!" Thomson. in their respective coffins. It is
dry, spacious, and altogether judiciously arranged. Such were the main objects
that caught our eyes, and have rested upon my memory, from a visit to Belvoir
Castle ; and though I necessarily regretted the absence of its master-spirit,
yet I had no reason to complain of a visit... which had, in every respect,
exceeded my expectations. There is no accounting for taste. While our little
circle was occupied in gazing at pictures, books, or marbles, a rural party,
under very different impulses, were lost in admiration "at the beautiful
manner in which the boards of the floor were made to dovetail!" Upon the
whole, if this were a day of "joyaunce," it was one of no small
excitement, and labour too; for we had made three reconnoissances, and yet
would have encountered a fourth, on return, at Mr. Gregory's: but that might
not be. Our faces were therefore steadily directed homewards; and the table at
Carlton Scroop, though Lilliputian compared with what we had left behind, had
yet its attractions,—as being covered with choice Dresden linen, upon which the
culinary art of my friend's housekeeper had lavished both delicate and
substantial fare. Heavyrain and thickening darkness came on as the shutters and
the curtains were closed upon the lawn scenery. Provided the physique be not
too much exhausted, I scarcely know anything which contributes more to animated
discussion and temperate potation, than the having previously visited "a few
of the lions in the neighbourhood." Every one can describe what he has
seen, and affects an un restrained right to give an opinion upon it. My
daughter held out for the flower-garden and the Legende Doree at Belton: the
Callimachus and the Aldine Septuagint, at Syston, seemed to cleave to my
memory; while our host sighed, as if from his heart's core, (" pectore ah
into") to play a rubber at shorts within the ducal blue drawing-room. It
is only sober truth to add, that the sculptured figure of the departed Duchess,
seemed to stand at the foot of my bed as I sunk to repose.
To be continued
