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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:54:12 -0700 |
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diff --git a/18809-h/18809-h.htm b/18809-h/18809-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..86bc668 --- /dev/null +++ b/18809-h/18809-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2075 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Recollections of the late William Beckford</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Recollections of the late William Beckford, by Henry Venn Lansdown</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Recollections of the late William Beckford, +by Henry Venn Lansdown, Edited by Charlotte Lansdown + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Recollections of the late William Beckford + of Fonthill, Wilts and Lansdown, Bath + + +Author: Henry Venn Lansdown + +Editor: Charlotte Lansdown + +Release Date: July 12, 2006 [eBook #18809] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LATE WILLIAM +BECKFORD*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1893 edition by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LATE WILLIAM BECKFORD<br /> +OF FONTHILL, WILTS and LANSDOWN, BATH</h1> +<p>The Manuscript of the following Letters, written by my Father, has +been in my possession fifty years. He intended to publish it at +the time of Mr. Beckford’s death, in 1844, but delayed the execution +of the work, and sixteen years afterwards was himself called to enter +on the higher life of the spiritual world.</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford and my Father were kindred spirits, conversant with +the same authors, had visited the same countries, and were both gifted +with extraordinary memories. Mr. Beckford said that he had never +met with a man possessed of such a memory as my Father; and many a time +has my Father told me that he never met a man who possessed such a memory +as Mr. Beckford.</p> +<p>If my Father had published the Reminiscences himself I think that +much misconception in the public mind respecting the character of Mr. +Beckford would have been prevented. For instance, I remember, +when a child, being warned that this great man was an infidel. +When he showed my Father the sarcophagus in which his body was to be +placed, he remarked, “There shall I lie, Lansdown, until the trump +of God shall rouse me on the Resurrection morn.”</p> +<p>CHARLOTTE LANSDOWN.</p> +<p>8 Lower East Hayes, Bath;<br /> +July, 1893.</p> +<h2><!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 5</span>RECOLLECTIONS +OF THE LATE WILLIAM BECKFORD.</h2> +<h3>Bath, August 21, 1838.</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">My Dear Charlotte</span>,—I have this day +seen such an astonishing assemblage of works of art, so numerous and +of so surprisingly rare a description that I am literally what Lord +Byron calls “Dazzled and drunk with beauty.” I feel +so bewildered from beholding the rapid succession of some of the very +finest productions of the great masters that the attempt to describe +them seems an impossible task; however, I will make an effort.</p> +<p>The collection of which I speak is that of Mr. Beckford, at his house +in Lansdown-crescent. Besides all this I have this day been introduced +to that extraordinary man, the author of “Vathek” and “Italy,” +the builder of Fonthill, the contemporary of the mighty and departed +dead, the pupil of Mozart; in fact, to the formidable and inaccessible +Vathek himself! I have many times passed the house, and longed +to see its contents, and often have I wondered how a building with so +plain and unostentatious an exterior could suit the reception of the +works it contains, and the residence of so magnificent a personage.</p> +<p>I first called by appointment on his ingenious architect, Mr. Goodridge +(to whom I am indebted for this distinguished favour), and he accompanied +me to the house, which we reached at half-past twelve o’clock. +We were shown upstairs, passing many fine family pictures, and were +ushered into the neat library, where Mr. Beckford was waiting to receive +us. I confess I did at first feel somewhat embarrassed, but a +lovely spaniel ran playfully towards us, licking our hands in the most +affectionate <!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>and +hospitable manner; “You are welcome” was the silent language. +I assure you I judge much, and often truly, of the character of individuals +from the deportment of their favourite dogs. I often find them +exactly indicative of their master’s disposition. When you +are attacked by snarling, waspish curs is it at all wonderful if you +find them an echo of the proprietor? But this beautiful animal +reassured me, and gave me instantly a favourable idea of its master. +My astonishment was great at the spaciousness of the room, which had +in length a magnificent and palatial effect, nor did I immediately discover +the cause of its apparent grandeur. It opens into the gallery +built over the arch connecting the two houses, at the end of which an +immense mirror reflects the two apartments. The effect is most +illusive, nor should I have guessed the truth had I not seen the reflection +of my own figure in the glass.</p> +<p>The library, which is the whole length of the first house, cannot +be much less than fifty feet long. It has on one side five lofty +windows, the gallery having three on the same side. You have the +light streaming through eight consecutive openings; these openings, +with their crimson curtains, doubled by the reflection, produce a most +charming perspective. From the ceiling hangs a splendid ormolu +chandelier, the floor is covered with a Persian carpet (brought I believe +from Portugal), so sumptuous that one is afraid to walk on it, and a +noble mosaic table of Florentine marble, bought in at an immense price +at Fonthill, is in the centre of the room. Several rows of the +rarest books cover the lower part of the walls, and above them hang +many fine portraits, which Mr. Beckford immediately, without losing +any time in compliments, began to show us and describe.</p> +<p>First we were shown a portrait by de Vos of Grotius; next to it one +of Rembrandt, painted by himself. “You see,” said +Mr. Beckford, “that he is trying to assume an air of dignity not +natural to him, by throwing back his head, but this attempt at the dignified +is neutralized by the expression of the eyes, which have rather too +much of sly humour for the character which he wishes to give himself.” +To praise individual pictures seems useless when everyone you meet has +excellencies peculiar to itself; in fact, whatever our ideas of the +great masters may be, and we certainly do gain from prints and pictures +<!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>a +tolerable idea of their style and different beauties (and I have myself +seen the Louvre and many celebrated pictures) there is in Mr. Beckford’s +<i>chef d’œuvres</i> something still more lovely than our +imagination, than our expectation. I speak not now of the St. +Catherine, The Claud, The Titian, &c., but all the pictures, whether +historical, landscape, or low life, have this unique character of excellence. +You look at a picture. You are sure it is by Gaspar, but you never +saw one of Poussin’s that had such an exquisite tone of colour, +so fresh and with such free and brilliant execution.</p> +<p>But I digress. I forgot that it was the library and its pictures +I was attempting to describe. Well, at the other end hangs a portrait +of Pope Gregory, by Passerotti; the expression of the face Italian, +attitude like Raphael. Over the door a portrait of Cosmo de Medici +by Bronzino Allori, fresh as if painted yesterday. “The +works of that master,” I said, “are rare, but a friend of +mine, Mr. Day, had a noble one at his rooms in Piccadilly, St. John +in the Wilderness. The conception of the figure and poetical expression +of the face always seemed to me astonishingly fine. Pray, Sir, +do you know that picture?” “Perfectly, it partakes +of the sublime and is amazingly fine.” “Your portrait +of Cosmo has the expression of a resolute, determined man, and I think +it conveys well the idea of the monstrous parent, who could with his +own hand destroy his only surviving son after discovering he had murdered +his brother. What a horrible piece of business! The father +of two sons, one of whom murdered the other, and that father is himself +the executioner of the survivor.” “It was dreadful +certainly,” said Mr. Beckford. “However, we have the +consolation of knowing that two broods of vipers were destroyed.”</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford next showed us a Titian, a portrait of the Constable +Montmorency, in armour richly chased with gold; a fine picture, but +sadly deficient in intellectual expression. And no wonder, for +as Mr. Beckford observed, “He could neither read nor write, but +he was none the worse for that.” “There is, then, +before us,” I rejoined, “the portrait of the man of whom +his master, Henri Quatre, said: ‘Avec un Counétable qui +re sait pas écrire, et un Chancelier qui ne sait pas le Latin, +j’ai reussi dans toutes mes entreprises.’ It is the +very portrait <!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>for +which he sat.” “The face,” I said, “has +no great pretensions to intellect, but then Titian knew nothing of the +refined flattery so fashionable now-a-days that throws a halo of mind +and expression over faces more stupid than Montmorency’s, and +whose possessors never performed the chivalrous deeds of the Constable.”</p> +<p>“Witness Sir Thomas Lawrence’s fine picture of Sir Wm. +Curtis, where the Court painter has thrown a poetical expression over +a personage that never in his life betrayed any predilection for anything +but turtle soup and gormandizing.” Mr. Beckford burst out +laughing. “Well,” said he, “here is a picture +that will perhaps please you. Holbein has certainly not been guilty +of the refined flattery you complain of here; it is the portrait of +Bishop Gardiner, painted at the time he was in Holland and in disgrace. +What think you of it?” “It is admirably painted, and +has scarcely anything of his dry and hard manner, the hands are done +inimitably, but the eyes are small, and the expression cold-hearted +and brutal. It conveys to my mind the exact idea of the cold-blooded +wretch, who consigned so many of his innocent countrymen to the flames.” +I did not express all I thought, but I certainly wondered how the effigy +of such a monster should have found an asylum in this palace of taste. +Smithfield and its horrors rose vividly before me, and I turned, not +without a shudder, from this too faithful portrait to copies by Phillips +of some family pictures in the Royal Collection, painted by permission +expressly for Mr. Beckford, and looking more like originals than mere +copies.</p> +<p>But the picture of pictures in this room is a Velasquez, an unknown +head, the expression beyond anything I have ever seen. Such light +and shade, such expressive eyes; the very epitome of Spanish character. +“Is it not amazingly like Lord Byron?” “It certainly +is very like him, but much more handsome.” This room is +devoted entirely to portraits.</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford opened a door and we entered the Duchess Drawing Room; +a truly Royal room, the colour of the curtains, carpet, and furniture +being crimson, scarlet, and purple. Over the fireplace is a full +length portrait of the Duchess of Hamilton by Phillips, painted in the +rich and glowing style of that sweet colourist. It represents +a beautiful and truly dignified lady. The <!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>sleeves +of the dress are close and small, as worn in 1810 (Quel bonheur! d’etre +jeune, jolie, et Duchesse), so truly becoming to a finely formed woman, +and so much superior to the present horrid fashion of disfiguring the +shape by gigot and bishop’s sleeves, which seem to have been invented +expressly to conceal what is indeed most truly beautiful, a woman’s +arm.</p> +<p>We were next shown a glorious Sir Joshua, a beautiful full length +portrait of Mrs. Peter Beckford, afterwards Lady Rivers, and the “Nouronchar” +of Vathek. She is represented approaching an altar partially obscured +by clouds of incense that she may sacrifice to Hygeia, and turning round +looking at the spectator. The background is quite Titianesque; +it is composed of sky and the columns of the temple, the light breaking +on the pillars in that forcible manner you see on the stems of trees +in some of Titian’s backgrounds. The colouring of this picture +is in fine preservation, a delicate lilac scarf floats over the dress, +the figure is grace and elegance itself, and the drawing perfect; the +general effect is brilliancy, richness, and astonishing softness. +“Sir Joshua took the greatest pleasure and delight in painting +that picture, as it was left entirely to his own refined taste. +The lady was in ill-health at the time it was done, and Sir Joshua most +charmingly conceived the idea of a sacrifice to the Goddess of Health. +Vain hope! Her disorder was fatal.”</p> +<p>There is a portrait of Mr. Beckford’s mother painted by West, +with a view of Fonthill in the background. Never was there a greater +contrast in this and the last picture; West certainly knew nothing of +portrait painting. The <i>tout ensemble</i> of the portrait in +question is as dry and hard as if painted by a Chinese novice. +There is also a portrait of the Countess, of Effingham, Mr. Beckford’s +aunt. On one side is the original portrait by Reynolds of the +author of Vathek engraved as the frontispiece of the “Excursions +to the Monasteries.” The character of the original picture +is much superior in expression to the print, less stout, eyes very intellectual; +in fact, you are convinced it must be the portrait of a poet or of a +poetical character. The face is very handsome, so is the print, +but that has nothing in it but what you meet with in a good looking +young man of fashion. This, on the contrary, has an expression +of sensibility, <!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>deeply +tinged with melancholy, which gives it great interest.</p> +<p>On the other side of Lady Rivers’s portrait is the Duke of +Hamilton when a boy. A sweet child, with the hair cut straight +along the forehead, as worn by children some fifty years ago, and hanging +luxuriantly down his neck On the same side of the room, behind a bronze +of the Laocoon, is a wonderful sketch by Paolo Veronese, the drawing +and composition in the grand style, touched with great sweetness and +juiciness. Two small upright Bassans, painted conjointly by both, +bearing their names; the point of sight is immensely high.</p> +<p>We were then led down the north staircase. Fronting us was +a portrait of Mr. Beckford’s father, the Alderman and celebrated +Lord Mayor of London. Mr. Goodridge asked him if he knew a book, +just published, denying the truth of his father’s famous speech +to George III. He seemed astonished, and stood still on the staircase. +“Not true! What in the world will they find out next? +Garrick was present when my father uttered it, heard the whole speech, +repeated it word for word to me, and what is more, acted it in my father’s +manner.” “That is the portrait of my great grandfather, +Colonel Peter Beckford. It was painted by a French artist, who +went to Jamaica for the purpose, at the time he was Governor of the +island.” It is a full length portrait, large as life, the +Colonel dressed in a scarlet coat embroidered richly with gold. +There is also a lovely portrait by Barker of the present Marquis of +Douglas, Mr. Beckford’s grandson; it was painted when Lord Douglas +was twelve or thirteen years old. There is also a charming picture +by Reynolds, two beautiful little girls, full length and large as life, +they are the present Duchess of Hamilton and her sister, Mrs General +Ord.</p> +<p>We now entered the lovely dining room, which in point of brilliancy +and cheerfulness has more the character of a drawing than of a dining +room. Opposite the window is an upright grand pianoforte. +It is the largest ever made, with the exception of its companion made +at the same time, and its richness and power of sound are very great. +Over the fire is what is seldom seen in a dining room, a large looking +glass. The paintings in this room have been valued at upwards +of £20,000.</p> +<p>On the right as you enter are five pictures that once <!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>adorned +the Aldsbrandini Palace, namely, the St. Catherine by Raphael, a Claude, +a Garofalo, two by Ferrara, and several smaller ones. But how +shall I attempt to describe to you the St. Catherine? This lovely +picture combines all the refined elegance of the Venus de Medici, in +form, contour, and flowing lines, with an astonishing delicacy of colour, +and masterly yet softened execution. The eyes are turned upwards +with an expression of heavenly resignation, the neck, flesh and life +itself, the hands, arms, and shoulders so sweetly rounded, while the +figure melts into the background with the softness of Corregio.</p> +<blockquote><p> And +fills<br /> +The air around with beauty, we inhale<br /> +The ambrosial aspect, which beheld instils<br /> +Part of its immortality; the veil<br /> +Of heaven is half withdrawn, within the pale<br /> +We stand, and in that form and face behold<br /> +What mind can make, when Nature’s self would fail.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I can only convey to you a very slight idea of the impression produced +by the contemplation of this admirable painting. Such grace and +sweetness, such softness and roundness in the limbs. She seems +the most beautiful creature that ever trod this earthly planet; in short +it is no earthly beauty that we gaze upon, but the very beau ideal of +Italian loveliness.</p> +<blockquote><p>Eve of the land which still is Paradise.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Italian beauty! didst thou not inspire Raphael? “How +different,” said Mr. Beckford, “is that lovely creature +from Mr. Etty’s beauties. They are for the most part of +a meretricious character, would do well enough for a mistress; but there,” +pointing to the St. Catherine, “there are personified the modesty +and purity a man would wish to have in a wife, and yet Frenchmen find +fault with it. C’est un assez joli tableau, say they, mais +la tete manque, de l’expression, si elle avait plus d’esprit, +plus de vivacite! Mais Raphael, il n’avait jamais passe +les Alpes.” We burst out laughing, and I added, “Le +pauvre Raphael quel dommage, de ne savoir rien du grand. Monarque! +ni de la grande nation.” “Yet,” I continued, +“there is a painter, Stotherd, who has come nearer to the great +Italian, in the grace and elegance of his women and children, than perhaps +any other, and merits well the proud appellation of the English Raphael. +<!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 12</span>What +a shame that he never met with encouragement.” “But +I understood that he was tolerably successful. He painted many +things for me at Fonthill. You are surely mistaken.” +“By no means,” I replied. “Latterly he seldom +sold a picture, and supported himself on the paltry income of £200 +a year, raised by making little designs for booksellers. Yet what +a noble painting is Chaucer’s pilgrimage to Canterbury.” +“It is indeed,” said Mr. Beckford. “But, sir, +there is another painter, Howard, whose conceptions are most poetical. +Do you remember his painting at Somerset House in 1824, representing +the solar system, from Milton’s noble lines—</p> +<blockquote><p>Hither as to their fountain, other stars<br /> +Repairing, in their golden urns draw light?”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“I remember it perfectly; ’twas a most beautiful picture.” +“Milton’s original idea, that of the planets drawing light +from their eternal source, as water from a fountain, is certainly a +glorious, a golden one; but who beside Howard could have so tangibly, +so poetically developed the poet’s idea in colour. The personifying +the planets according to their names, as Venus, Mercury, and so forth, +was charming, and the splendour of the nearer figures, overwhelmed as +it were with excess of light, and the gloom and darkness of the distant, +were admirably managed. What a wonderful picture!” +“He never painted a finer.”</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford then pointed out his Claude. It is a cool picture, +the colouring grey and greenish, the time of day, early morning just +before sunrise: but words fail to express its beauties. There +is a something in it, a je ne sais quoi. Such clearness in the +colouring; the trees are all green, but so tenderly green; the sky and +distance of such an exquisite tone that you are at once in imagination +transported to those “southern climes and cloudless skies” +that inspired Claude Lorraine. I can give no possible idea in +writing of the tone of colour in this picture, except by comparing it +to the semi-transparency of Mosaic, such are the clearness of the tints +and pearliness of the sky and distance. As to chiaro-oscure, it +is breadth and simplicity itself. Nothing but the purest ultramarine +could ever produce such a green as that which colours the trees.</p> +<p>On the same side of the room are two small Vander Meulens, landscapes. +They are very highly finished, <!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>and +the colouring is delicious; the trees are grouped with all the grandeur +of Claude or Poussin. Above are two of the finest Vernets; they +are both sea pieces. The colouring has a depth and richness I +never before saw in anything attributed to him. In the Louvre +are his most famous pictures, and what I now say is the result of calm +and mature reflection. I had the Louvre pictures constantly before +my eyes for three months. They are very large, and certainly have +great merit; but had I my choice I would prefer Mr. Beckford’s +to any of the set.</p> +<p>West’s original sketch for his great picture of King Lear, +painted for Boydell’s Shakspeare Gallery—“Blow, blow, +thou winter wind.” A most wonderful performance. The +expression of face of the poor mad king is astonishing; the colouring +rich and mellow—nothing of West’s usually hard outline. +The whole picture is full of energy and fire, and seems to have been +struck off with the greatest ease and rapidity. “Do observe +the face of Edgar,” said Mr. Beckford. “Under his +assumed madness you trace a sentiment of respect and anxiety for the +monarch; he could not forget that it was his sovereign.” +“I have seen,” I said, “most of West’s great +pictures, but there is more genius in that sketch than in anything I +ever saw of his. I think he took too much pains with his sketches. +The consequence was that the original spirit evaporated long before +the completion of the great tame painting, where his men and women too +often look like wooden lay figures covered with drapery.” +“Sir, did you ever see his sketch of Death on the Pale Horse? +The large picture is certainly very fine, but I have heard the best +judges say that the original sketch is one of the finest things in existence. +The President himself considered it his best and refused £100, +offered for it by the Prince Regent; yet afterwards, being distressed +for money, he parted with it, I believe, to Mr. Thompson, the artist, +for £50.” “Is it possible? I wish I had +known that he wanted to dispose of it. I should have liked it +beyond anything. It was most wonderful.”</p> +<p>Above the picture of King Lear hangs a noble picture by Titian, the +composition of which reminded me much of Raphael. The Virgin’s +face is extremely beautiful, but it is the sort of beauty we sometimes +meet with, that we sometimes may have seen. The St. Catherine +is of a more elevated style of beauty, more intellectual; in <!-- page 14--><a name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>short, +it possesses a combination of charms that has never yet fallen to the +lot of any mortal. The infant is extremely fine. On this +side is also a portrait of himself exquisitely coloured and finished.</p> +<p>Near these paintings is a Canaletti, not a real view, but an assemblage +of various fine buildings; in fact, a sort of union of Rome and Venice. +In the centre is the Mole of Hadrian, round which he has amused himself +by putting an elegant colonnade; on the right hand is a bridge. +The colouring is clear, the shadows rich, and the water softly painted +and extremely transparent. This is the most beautiful Canaletti +I ever saw. I observed that the generality of his pictures had +a hardness, dryness, and blackness that we saw nothing of here. +“You are quite right,” he said, “and the reason is +that very few of those generally attributed to him are really genuine, +but of mine there can be no doubt, as this painting and several others +that I have were got directly from the artist himself by means of the +English Consul at Venice; but not a quarter of the pictures that one +sees and that are called his were ever painted by Canaletti.” +There were several very fine pictures by this master destroyed in the +lifetime of Alderman Beckford at the fire which consumed the old mansion +at Fonthill nearly a hundred years ago.</p> +<p>This Canaletti partakes of the same character of high excellence +that Mr. Beckford’s other pictures possess; in fact, as with so +many of his pictures, you see the hand of the master, whose common works +you know, but in this house you find paintings still finer, which give +you more elevated and correct ideas of the style and manner of the genuine +productions of the great masters. There really seems some charm, +some magic in the walls, so great is the similarity of colouring in +these <i>chefs d’œuvres</i>, the clear, the subdued, the +pearly tints, a variety of delicious colour, and none of the dirty hues +you see in mediocre old paintings.</p> +<p>Over the sofa is a constellation of beauties which we merely glanced +at as we passed, but which I hope another day to examine. They +are some of the rarest specimens by G. Poussin, Wouvermans, Berghem, +Van Huysum, Polemberg, and others. On a small table was placed +an elegantly cut caraffe of carnations of every variety of colour that +you can possibly imagine. There is nothing <!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>in +which Mr. Beckford is more choice than in his bouquets. At every +season the rarest living flowers adorn the house.</p> +<p>Next to the dining room is a small salon, which we now entered. +Here is a noble drawing by Turner of the Abbey, according to a plan +proposed, but never carried out. The tower is conical, and would +have been even higher than the one that was completed. “I +have seen,” I said, “a fine drawing of Fonthill by Turner, +originally in your possession, but now belonging to Mr. Allnutt, of +Clapham. It is prodigiously fine. The scenery there must +be magnificent. The hills and beautiful lake in the drawing give +one an idea of Cumberland.” “It is a very fine drawing, +but rather too poetical, too ideal, even for Fonthill. The scenery +there is certainly beautiful, but Turner took such liberties with it +that he entirely destroyed the portraiture, the locality of the spot. +That was the reason I parted with it. There were originally six +drawings of the Abbey; three were disposed of at the sale, and I still +have the remaining ones.” “Are they going to rebuild +the tower, sir? for when I was last in London, Papworth, the architect, +was gone down to Fonthill to do something there.” “Impossible,” +he said, “unless it were to be made a national affair, which indeed +is not very likely. It would cost at least £100,000 to restore +it. But what can Papworth have done there? It must I should +think be something to the pavilion. I assure you I had no idea +of parting with Fonthill till Farquhar made me the offer. I wished +to purge it, to get rid of a great many things I did not want, but as +to the building itself I had no more notion of selling it than you have +(turning to his architect) of parting with anything, with—with +the clothes you have on.”</p> +<p>On the chimney piece, protected by a glass, is a precious Japan vase. +We examined it for some time under its envelope. It seemed to +me (for I know nothing of Japan work) a bronze vessel, richly and most +elaborately chased, and I could not help joining in the praises due +to its exquisite finish. Mr. Beckford took off the glass, and +desired me to take it to the window. “I am really afraid +to touch it,” said I, but he forced it into my hands. I +prepared them to receive a massive and (as it seemed to me) very weighty +vessel, when lo it proved as light as a feather. We were afterwards +shown another Japan vase, the exterior of which exactly resembled the +Pompeian <!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 16</span>designs, +elegant scrolls, delicate tracery of blue, red, green, &c. +These colours strongly opposed as in the remains of paintings at Pompeii. +Here are some other precious little pictures, a small Gerard Dow, a +Watteau, a Moucheron, and a Polemberg. He merely noticed them, +and then led us into the next room.</p> +<p>A noble library. It is an elegant and charming apartment, very +chastely ornamented. Here are no pictures; it is devoted entirely +to books and ponderous folios of the most rare and precious engravings. +The sides of the library are adorned by Scagliola pilasters and arched +recesses, which contain the books. The interstices between the +arches and the ceiling are painted in imitation of marble, so extremely +like that though they touch the Scagliola it is next to impossible to +distinguish any difference. The ceiling is belted across and enriched +with bands of Grecian tracery in relief, delicately painted and slightly +touched with gold. On the walls are some gilded ornaments, enough +to give to the whole richness of effect without heaviness. Between +the windows is what I suppose may be termed a table, composed of an +enormous slab of the rarest marble, supported by elegantly cast bronze +legs. Over this a small cabinet (manufactured in Bath from drawings +by Mr. Goodridge) full of extremely small books; it is carved in oak +in the most elaborate manner. The fireplace, of Devonshire marble, +is perfect in design and in its adaptation to the rest of the room; +in fact, everything in this lovely chamber is in unison, everything +soft, quiet, and subdued.</p> +<p>New wonders awaited me. Next to the library is a sort of vestibule +leading to a staircase, which from its mysterious and crimson light, +rich draperies, and latticed doors seemed to be the sanctum sanctorum +of a heathen temple. To the left a long passage, whose termination +not being seen allowed the imagination full play, led for aught I know +to the Fortress of Akerman, to the Montagne du Caf or to the Halls of +Argenti. Ou sout peintes toutes les createures raissonables, et +les animaux qui ont habité la terre.</p> +<p>To the right two latticed doors, reminding you of Grand Cairo or +Persepolis, ingeniously conceal the commonplace entrance from the Crescent. +The singular and harmonious light of this mysterious vestibule is produced +by crimson silk strained over the fanlight of the outer <!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>door. +“This place,” I observed, “puts one in mind of the +Hall of Eblis.” “You are quite right,” he observed, +“this is unquestionably the Hall of Eblis.” “Those +latticed doors,” I continued, “seem to lead to the small +apartment where the three princes, Alasi, Barkiarokh, and Kalilah, related +to Vathek and Nouronchar their adventures.” He seemed amused +at my observations, and said, “Then you have read ‘Vathek.’ +How do you like it?” “Vastly. I read it in English +many years ago, but never in French.” “Then read it +in French,” said Mr. Beckford. “The French edition +is much finer than the English.”</p> +<p>We mounted the staircase. Above you in open niches are Etruscan +vases. The ceiling is arched and has belts at intervals. +“I wished to exclude the draughts,” said Mr. Beckford, “and +to do away with the cold and uncomfortable appearance you generally +have in staircases.” The effect of the whole is so novel +that you lose all idea of stairs, and seem merely going from one room +to another. As you stand on the landing the vaulted and belted +ceiling behind you has the appearance of a row of arches in perspective. +The same solemn and mysterious gloom pervades the staircase. The +architect has frequently entreated to be allowed to introduce a little +more light, but in vain. The author of “Vathek” will +not consent to the least alteration of the present mystical effect, +and he is quite right. This warm and indefinite light produces +not only the effect of air, but also of space, and makes the passage +before noticed, seen through the latticed doors, apparently of lines +of real dimensions.</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford drew aside a curtain. We entered the smaller of +two lovely drawing rooms lately fitted up. Before us, over the +mantelpiece, was suspended a magnificent full length portrait by Gaspar +de Crayer of Philip II. of Spain. Just then my head was too full +of the Hall of Eblis, of “Vathek” and its associations, +for mere ordinary admiration of even one of the finest portraits painted, +and on Mr. Beckford pointing out the whitefaced monarch I almost involuntarily +ejaculated “Pale slave of Eblis.” He burst out laughing. +“Eh! eh! what? His face is pale indeed, but he was very +proud of his complexion.” This is a very fine group. +Philip is represented dressed in a suit of black armour, elaborately +chased in gold, standing on a throne covered <!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 18</span>with +a crimson carpet. Near him is his dwarf, dressed in black, holding +the helmet, adorned with a magnificent plume of feathers, and turning +towards his master (the fountain of honour) a most expressive and intelligent +face. “That dwarf,” said Mr. Beckford, “was +a man of great ability and exercised over his master a vast influence.” +Lower down you discover the head of a Mexican page, holding a horse, +whose head, as well as that of the page, is all that is visible, their +bodies being concealed by the steps of the throne. This is a noble +picture; but in my eyes the extreme plainness of the steps of the throne +and the unornamented war boots of the king have a bare and naked appearance. +They contrast rather too violently with the whole of the upper part +of the picture. Over the steps are painted in Roman letters Rx. +Ps. 4s. (Rex Philippus quartos). Many who have hardly heard the +painter’s name will of course not admire it, being done neither +by Titian nor Vandyke; but Mr. Beckford’s taste is peculiar. +He prefers a genuine picture by an inferior painter to those attributed +to the more celebrated masters, but where originality is ambiguous, +or at least if not ambiguous where picture cleaner, or scavengers, as +he calls them, have been at work. In this room, suspended from +the ceiling by a silken cord, is the silver gilt lamp that hung in the +oratory at Fonthill. Its shape and proportion are very elegant, +and no wonder; it was designed by the author of “Italy” +himself. How great was my astonishment some time after, on visiting +Fonthill, at perceiving, suspended from the <i>cul de lamp</i>, the +very crimson cord that once supported this precious vessel! The +lamp had been hastily cut down, and the height of the remains of the +cord from the floor was probably the reason of its preservation.</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford next pointed out a charming sketch by Rubens, clear +and pearly beyond conception. It is St. George and the Dragon, +the dragon hero and his horse in the air, and the dragon must certainly +have been an African lion. Mr. Beckford called the beast, or reptile, +a mumpsimus (<i>sic</i>). “Do look at the Pontimeitos in +the beautiful sketch,” said he, “there is a bit from his +pencil certainly his own. Don’t imagine that those great +pictures that bear his name are all his pictures. He was too much +of a gentleman for such drudgery, and the greatest part of such pictures +(the Luxembourg for instance) are <!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>the +works of his pupils from his original designs certainly; they were afterwards +retouched by him, and people are silly enough to believe they are all +his work. But mark well the difference in execution between those +great gallery pictures and such a gem as this.” Mr. Beckford +then showed me a “Ripon” by Polemberg, a lovely classic +landscape, with smooth sky, pearly distance, and picturesque plains; +the Holy Family in the foreground. “Do take notice of the +St. Joseph in this charming picture,” he said. “The +painters too often pourtray him as little better than a vagabond Jew +or an old beggar. Polemberg had too much good taste for such caricaturing, +and you see he has made him here look like a decayed gentleman.”</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford drew aside another curtain, and we entered the front +drawing room, of larger dimensions, but fitted up in a similar style. +The first thing that caught my eye was the magnificent effect produced +by a scarlet drapery, whose ample folds covered the whole side of the +room opposite the three windows from the ceiling to the floor. +Mr. Beckford’s observation on his first view of Mad. d’ +Aranda’s boudoir instantly recurred to my mind. These are +his very words: “I wonder architects and fitters-up of apartments +do not avail themselves more frequently of the powers of drapery. +Nothing produces so grand and at the same time so comfortable an effect. +The moment I have an opportunity I will set about constructing a tabernacle +larger than the one I arranged at Ramalhad, and indulge myself in every +variety of plait and fold that can be possibly invented.” +“I never was so convinced,” I said, “of the truth +of your observations as at the present moment. What a charming +and comfortable effect does that splendid drapery produce!” +“I am very fond of drapery,” he replied, “but that +is nothing to what I had at Fonthill in the great octagon. There +were purple curtains fifty feet long.”</p> +<p>Here was a cabinet of oak, made in Bath, in form most classical and +appropriate. On one side stood two massive and richly chased silver +gilt candlesticks that formerly were used in the Moorish Palace of the +Alhambra. “Then you have visited Granada?” I inquired. +“More than once.” “What do you think of the +Alhambra?” “It is vastly curious certainly, but many +things there are in wretched taste, and to say truth I don’t much +admire Moorish taste.”</p> +<p><!-- page 20--><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>Mr. +Beckford next pointed out a head in marble brought from Mexico by Cortez, +which was for centuries in the possession of the Duke of Alba’s +family, and was given to the present proprietor by the Duchess. +“Her fate was very tragical,” he observed. In a small +cupboard with glass in front is a little ivory reliquior, four or five +hundred years old. It was given to Mr. Beckford by the late Mr. +Hope. It is in the shape of a small chapel; on opening the doors, +the fastenings of which were two small dogs or monkeys, you found in +a recess the Virgin and Child, surrounded by various effigies, all carved +in the most astonishingly minute manner.</p> +<p>The mention of Mr. Hope’s name produced an observation about +“Anastasius,” of which Mr. Beckford affirmed he was confident +Mr. Hope had written very little; he was, he positively asserted, assisted +by Spence. My companion here observed, “Had Mr. Beckford +heard of the recent discoveries made of the ruins of Carthage?” +“Of Carthage?” he said, “it must be New Carthage. +It cannot be the old town, that is impossible. If it were, I would +start to-morrow to see it. I should think myself on the road to +Babylon half-way.” “Babylon must have been a glorious +place,” observed my companion, “if we can place any reliance +on Mr. Martin’s long line of distances about that famous city.” +“Oh, Martin. Martin is very clever, but a friend of mine, +Danby, in my opinion far surpasses him.” I cannot agree +with Mr. Beckford in this. Martin was undoubtedly the inventor +of the singular style of painting in question, and I do not believe +that Danby ever produced anything equal to some of the illustrations +of “Paradise Lost,” in particular “The Fall of the +Apostate Angels,” which is as fine a conception as any painter, +ancient or modern, ever produced.</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford then, taking off a glass cover, showed us what is, I +should imagine, one of the greatest curiosities in existence, a vase +about ten inches high, composed of one entire block of chalcedonian +onyx. It is of Greek workmanship, most probably about the time +of Alexander the Great. The stone is full of veins, as usual with +onyxes. “Do observe,” said he, “these satyrs’ +heads. Imagine the number of diamonds it must have taken to make +any impression on such a hard substance. Rubens made a drawing +of it, for it was pawned in his time for a large sum. I possess +an engraving from his drawing,” and <!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>opening +a portfolio he immediately presented it to my wondering eyes.</p> +<p>Over the fireplace is a magnificent picture by Roberts, representing +the tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella in the Alhambra. What I had +always imagined a small chapel is, I find, really of gigantic proportions, +and looks like a Cathedral in solemn grandeur and softness; the two +sarcophagi are of white marble. The light streams through enormous +painted windows, and at the extremity of the edifice is an altar surrounded +by figures in different attitudes. “I should never have +dreamt, from what Washington Irving says of the chapel of Ferdinand +and Isabella, that it was such a plan as this.” “Oh, +Washington Irving,” he replied, “is very poor in his descriptions; +he does not do justice to Spain.” I wished he had spoken +with a little more enthusiasm of a favourite author, but I imagine that +the author of the “Sketch Book” is scarcely aristocratic +enough for Mr. Beckford.</p> +<p>On the right hand of the fireplace is a very large landscape by Lee, +which Mr. Beckford eulogised warmly. “That silvery stream,” +he observed, “winding amongst those gentle undulating hills must +be intended to represent Berkshire,” or he pronounced it Barkshire. +With all due deference to the taste of the author of “Vathek,” +and his admiration of this picture, which he compared to a Wouvermann, +it is in my eyes a very uninteresting scene, though certainly strictly +natural. “I don’t in general like Lee’s pictures,” +he said, “but that is an exception.” In the corresponding +recess is a fine sea piece by Chambers. On the opposite side of +the room are rows of the most valuable books, which almost reach the +ceiling. I hinted that I was really afraid we were trespassing +on his leisure, as our visit was lengthened out most prodigiously. +“Not at all,” he replied, “I am delighted to see you. +It is a pleasure to show these things to those who really appreciate +them, for I assure you that I find very few who do.” We +now returned through the apartments. He accompanied us as far +as the dining room door, when he inquired if I had seen the Tower? +On my answering in the negative he said, “Then you must come up +again.” He shook hands with my friend, and bowing politely +to me was retiring, when stepping back he held out his hand in the kindest +manner, repeating the words “Come <!-- page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>up +again.” We found we had spent three hours in his company.</p> +<p>We paused an instant before leaving the dining room to admire a lovely +bit of perspective. It is a line of open doors, exactly opposite +each other (never seen but in large houses), piercing and uniting the +three lower rooms. The effect is vastly increased by a mirror +placed in the lobby leading to the second staircase, which mirror terminated +the view. “L’une perspective bien ménagée +charmait la vue; ici, la magic de l’optique la trompoit agréablement. +En un mot, le plus curieux des hommes n’avait rien omis dans ce +palais de ce qui pouvait contenter la curiosité de ceux qui le +visitait.”</p> +<p>You may imagine I did not forget Mr. Beckford’s invitation, +nor cease pestering my friend till he at length fixed a day for accompanying +me again to Lansdown. My curiosity to see the Tower was excited. +I longed to behold that extraordinary structure, but still more to see +again the wonderful individual to whom it belonged.</p> +<p>We proceeded in the first place to the house, and I had an opportunity +of examining the pictures and curiosities in the ante-room. Here +are two cabinets, containing curious china, and small golden vessels. +Most of the china was, I believe, painted at Sèvres expressly +for Mr. Beckford, as the ornaments on several pieces indicate, being +formed of his arms, so arranged as to produce a rich and beautiful effect +without the slightest formality. I counted in one cabinet ten +vessels of gold, in the other five: these were small teapots, caddies, +cups, saucers, plates. I am told that they are used occasionally +at tea-time.</p> +<p>Over the door is a magnificent drawing of the Abbey, by Turner, taken +I should imagine at a distance of two miles. The appearance of +the building with its lofty tower is grand and imposing. The foreground +seems to have been an old quarry. The great lake glitters in the +middle distance, from the opposite banks of which the ground gradually +rises, and the eminence is crowned by the stately structure. Here +are also a fine interior by Van Ostade from Fonthill, representing a +noble picture gallery; a drawing of the interior of St. Paul’s; +one by Rubens, representing Christ and the two disciples at Emmaus; +a fine Swaneveldt; a glorious Weeninx, game <!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>and +fruit; with a lovely bit by Lance, and many smaller pictures.</p> +<p>I was informed that Mr. Beckford intended meeting us at the Tower, +and that a servant was in readiness to conduct us thither by the walk +through the grounds. We therefore issued by a private door, and +presently entered the spacious kitchen garden, containing, I believe, +seven or eight acres. A broad gravel walk, bordered by lovely +flowers and fruit trees, leads to a magnificent terrace, which bounds +the northern side of this beautiful enclosure, the view from which is +enchanting. This noble terrace is screened from the north by a +luxuriant shrubbery, from which arises an archway of massive proportions, +erected chiefly to shut out the view of an unpicturesque object. +The <i>tout ensemble</i> reminds one of Florence. You pass this +gigantic portal, and ascend the hill by a winding pathway through the +fields, the grass being always kept clipped and short. At the +distance of half a mile from the house we crossed a lane, and our guide +unlocking a gate entered the grounds at the brow of the hill. +We again ascended, till we reached a broader way between two flourishing +plantations, branching off to the left, and leading by a gently winding +walk to a rustic sort of bungalow, which was discovered about a quarter +of a mile off. “You must walk along here,” said my +friend, “and behold the prospect before we mount higher, for you +will find the view repay you.” It did indeed repay us: the +grassy pathway extends along the side of the southern brow of Lansdown, +and the view from this spot is unrivalled. The whole valley of +the Doon stretches beneath you. Looking towards the east you discover +in extreme distance the Marlborough Downs; then somewhat nearer Kingsdown, +Bathford, the hills above Warleigh, with Hampton cliffs and the neighbouring +woods, where Gainsborough, Wilson, and Barker studied Nature so well, +and where is shown the flat rock called Gainsborough’s table, +on which the first of this picturesque triumvirate so often ate his +rustic meal. To the south Bladud’s splendid city, with its +towers and stately buildings, backed by the long line of Wiltshire hills, +and Alfred’s Tower is faintly traced in the clear, grey haze. +The little conical hill of Englishcombe, where the unfortunate Duke +of Monmouth drew up his army during his rash and fatal enterprise, awoke +a thousand recollections, <!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 24</span>whilst +the lovely river flashed occasionally in the noontide sun. To +the west are seen Newton Park, the Mendip Hills, Dundry Tower, and the +Welsh hills, whilst the hazy atmosphere marked the position of another +great city, Bristol. At the extreme western point, too, are seen +the waters of the Bristol Channel, glittering under the glowing rays +of the setting sun, and shining like a vast plateau of burnished gold.</p> +<p>After feasting our eyes on this lovely panorama and tracing out well +known places, at one moment lost in obscurity from the shadow of a passing +cloud and the next moment appearing in the full blaze of sunshine, we +retraced our steps towards the path to the Tower. We again ascended +the hill, and soon reached the sort of tableland on the top, which seems +to me to have been once an immense quarry, and no doubt furnished stone +in vast quantities for the building of the splendid city at the foot +of the eminence. The remains of these quarries are most picturesque. +At a little distance they seem to present the wrecks of stately buildings, +with rows of broken arches, and vividly recall the idea of Roman ruins. +I afterwards mentioned my impressions on seeing them to Mr. Beckford, +who replied, “They do indeed put one in mind of the Campagna of +Rome, and are vastly like the ruins of the Baths of Caracalla.” +We were now on the brow of the hill, and soon felt the influence of +the genial breezes from the Bristol Channel. We quitted the open +Down, and passing under a low doorway entered a lovely shrubbery. +The walk (composed of small fossils) winds between graceful trees, and +is skirted by odoriferous flowers, which we are astonished to find growing +in such luxuriance at an elevation of nearly a thousand feet above the +vale below. In many places the trees meet, and form a green arcade +over your head, whilst patches of mignonette, giant plants of heliotrope, +and clusters of geranium perfume the air.</p> +<p>We next enter a beautiful kitchen garden, and are presented with +a broad and noble straight walk fully ten feet in width and nearly four +hundred feet long, between beds of flowers, and on either side beyond +fruit trees and vegetables. The garden terminates with a picturesque +building, pierced by a lofty archway, through which the walk passes. +This garden is about eighty feet wide and about twelve feet below the +level of the Down, being <!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 25</span>formed +in an old quarry, besides which a lofty wall on either side shelters +it. One cannot describe one’s sensations of comfort at finding +so delicious a spot in so unexpected a place. I said to the gardener, +“I understood Mr. Beckford had planted everything on the Down, +but you surely found those apple trees here. They are fifty years +old.” “We found nothing here but an old quarry and +a few nettles. Those apple trees were great trees when we moved +them, and moving them stopped their bearing. They blossom in the +spring and look pretty, and that is all master cares about.” +We left this charming enclosure, passing under the archway before mentioned. +And here I must pause a moment and admire the happy idea of placing +this pretty building at the end of this cultivated spot. It closes +the kitchen garden, and as its front is similar on either side, it harmonizes +with the regular garden we have left, as well as with the wilder spot +which we next approach. This building forms a complete termination +to one of that succession of lovely scenes with which we are presented +on our walk to the Tower. Each scene is totally distinct in character +from the others, and yet with matchless taste they are united by some +harmonious link, as in the present case.</p> +<p>Having then passed through the archway of this building, we observed +before us a grotto, into which we entered. On the right is a pond +of gold and silver fish, which are fed every morning by the hands of +the gifted possessor of this charming place. On the opposite side +thirty or forty birds assemble at the same time to hail the appearance +of St. Anthony’s devotee, and chirrup a song of gratitude for +their morning meal. The grotto is formed under a road, and is +so ingeniously contrived that hundreds have walked over it without ever +dreaming of the subterranean passage beneath. The grotto-like +arch winds underground for perhaps sixty or seventy feet. When +coming to its termination we are presented with a flight of rustic steps, +which leads us again directly on to the Down. Looking back you +cannot but admire the natural appearance of this work of art. +The ground over the grotto is covered with tangled shrubs and brambles. +There is nothing formed, nothing apparently artificial, and a young +ash springs as if accidentally from between the stones.</p> +<p><!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>We +pursued our way to the Tower by a path of a quarter of a mile on the +Down, along a walk parallel to the wall of the public road, gently curved +to take off the appearance of formality, yet so slightly that you can +go on in a straight line. On our right hand venerable bushes of +lavender, great plants of rosemary, and large rose trees perfume the +air, all growing as if indigenous to the smooth turf. In one place +clusters of rare and deeply crimsoned snapdragons, in another patches +of aromatic thyme and wild strawberries keep up the charm of the place. +As we draw nearer to the Tower the ground is laid out in a wilder and +more picturesque manner, the walks are more serpentine. We turned +a corner, and Mr. Beckford stood before us, attended by an aged servant, +whose hairs have whitened in his employment, and whose skill has laid +out these grounds in this beautiful manner. Mr. Beckford welcomed +me in the kindest way, and immediately began pointing out the various +curious plants and shrubs. How on this happy spot specimens of +the productions of every country in the world unite! Shrubs and +trees, whose natural climates are as opposite as the Antipodes, here +flourish in the most astonishing manner. We were shown a rose +tree brought from Pekin and a fir tree brought from the highest part +of the Himalaya Mountains; many have been brought to this country, but +Mr. Beckford’s is the only one that has survived. Here are +pine trees of every species and variety—a tree that once vegetated +at Larissa, in Greece, Italian pines, Siberian pines, Scotch firs, a +lovely specimen of Irish yew, and other trees which it is impossible +to describe. My astonishment was great at witnessing the size +of the trees, and I could scarcely believe my ears when told that the +whole of this wood had been raised on the bare Down within the last +thirteen years. The ground is broken and diversified in the most +agreeable manner: here a flight of easy and water worn steps leads to +an eminence, whence you have a view of the building and an old ruin +overgrown with shrubs, which looks as if it had seen five hundred summers, +but in reality no older than the rest of this creation. On ascending +the easy though ruined steps of this building, passing under an archway, +the view of the Tower burst upon us, and a long, straight walk led us +directly to the entrance. From this point the view is most imposing. +On your right is a continuation of <!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>the +shrubberies I spoke of, at the end of which is a lovely pine, most beautiful +in form and colour, which by hiding some of the lower buildings thus +makes a picture of the whole. The effect of the building is grand +and stately beyond description. The long line of flat distance +and the flatness of the Down here come in contact with the perpendicular +lines of the Tower and lower buildings, producing that strikingly peculiar +combination which never fails to produce a grand effect. This +is the real secret of Claude’s seaports. His stately buildings, +moles, and tall towers form a right angle with the straight horizon; +thus the whole is magnificent. Nothing of the sort could be produced +in the interior of a country but in a situation like the present. +Who but a man of extraordinary genius would have thought of rearing +in the desert such a structure as this, or creating such an oasis? +The colouring of the building reminded me of Malta or Sicily, a rich +mellow hue prevails; the ornaments of the Tower are so clean, so distinct, +such terseness. The windows, small and few compared with modern +buildings, give it the appearance of those early Florentine edifices +reared when security and defence were as much an object as beauty. +From every part of the ground the pile looks grand, the lines producing +the most beautiful effect. The windows have iron gratings, which +give it an Oriental character. We entered, and immediately ascended +the Tower. A circular staircase was round the wall. The +proportion of the interior is beautiful; you see from the bottom to +the top. From the apparent size of the three or four loopholes +seen from the outside I imagined it would be dark and gloomy from within, +but I was agreeably surprised to find the whole extremely light. +The balustrade is Egyptian in form, and banisters bronze. On reaching +the top you find a square apartment containing twelve windows, each +a piece of plate glass, the floor covered with red cloth and crimson +window curtains. The effect of distance seen through these apertures +unobstructed by framework, contrasted with the bronze balustrade without +and crimson curtains within, is truly enchanting. We were not +happy in the weather. The morning was sunny and promising, but +at noon clouds obscured the heavens; therefore we wanted that glow and +splendour sunshine never fails to give the landscape. The height +is so great that everything looks quite diminutive. The road running +<!-- page 28--><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>in +a straight line across the Down reminds one of a Roman work, and the +whole expanse of country surrounding recalls the Campagna. Two +more flights of stairs, most ingeniously contrived and to all appearance +hanging on nothing, lead to two other apartments, the top one lighted +by glass all round, concealed on the outside by the open ornament that +runs round the very top of the cupola.</p> +<p>On descending the staircase, the door opening showed us at the end +of a small vaulted corridor a beautiful statue by Rossi of St. Anthony +and the infant Jesus. At the back, fixed in the wall, is a large +slab of red porphyry, circular at the top and surrounded by an elegant +inlay of Sienna verd, antique border surrounding the whole figure of +the Saint, and has a most rich effect; it is difficult to believe that +the Sienna is not gold. The light descending from above gives +that fine effect which sets off statues so much. On the left hand +of the figure is a picture by Pietro Perugino, which for centuries was +in the Cathedral of Sienna, having been painted for that building and +never removed till Mr. Beckford (I suppose by making an offer too tempting +to be resisted) succeeded in obtaining it. It is the Virgin and +two pretty boys, admirably drawn, very like Raphael, and in as fine +preservation as the St. Catherine. The execution is masterly, +and though not so free as the Raphael still it is forcible. The +figure of the left hand boy is very graceful, face beautiful and sweetly +dimpled. Opposite are a Francesco Mola and a Steinwych. +The Mola is exceedingly fine, the sky and landscape much like Mr. Beckford’s +Gaspar Poussin in colour and execution; the Steinwych, interior of a +Cathedral, one of the most wonderful finished pictures I ever beheld. +This picture was painted for an ancestor of Mr. Beckford’s. +Here there is a little cabinet full of rare and curious manuscripts. +We were shown a small Bible in MS., including the Apocrypha, written +300 years before printing was introduced, and a very curious Missal.</p> +<p>We then entered a gorgeous room containing pictures and curiosities +of immense value. Its proportions seem exactly the same as the +one on the floor below, and decorations with its furniture pretty similar. +The windows in both are in one large plate, and the shutters of plain +oak. The colour of curtains and carpet crimson. In these +rooms are a portrait of the Doge out of the Grimaldi <!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 29</span>Palace, +purchased by Mr. Beckford from Lord Cawdor, who got it out of the Palace +by an intrigue; this is a splendid portrait; he has on the Dalmatica +and the Phrygian Cap worn by the Doges on occasions of State, and two +lovely Polembergs, infinitely finer and more like Claude than anything +I ever saw; in fact, they were ascribed to Claude by the German Waagen, +architecture grand, foliage light and elegant; the figures are by Le +Sœur. Two fine portraits by De Vos, wonderfully painted, +execution and colouring reminded me of Vandyke, particularly the latter, +and not unlike the Gavertius in the National Gallery. Then there +is a magnificent Houdekoeta, the landscape part painted by Both most +inimitably. A beautiful cabinet designed by Bernini, another with +sculptured paintings, in the centre the story of Adam and Eve. +Two more candlesticks from the Alhambra, in shape and execution similar +to those at the house; two gold candlesticks after designs by Holbein; +some curious specimens of china; an Asiatic purple glass vase, brought +by St. Louis from the Holy Land, which contained at St. Denis some holy +fragments; a piece of china, the centre of which is ornamented in a +style totally different from the generality of china, in eight or ten +compartments, and painted in such a manner that the festoon of leaves +fall over and hide the fruit most picturesquely; two ivory cups, one +in alto, the other in basso relievo; the latter the finer and most charmingly +carved; a small group in bronze by John Bologna, “Dejanira and +the Centaur,” admirably done. Here are tables of the rarest +marbles, one composed of a block from the Himalaya Mountains. +In one of the windows is a piece of African marble brought to this country +for George IV; also a small bath of Egyptian porphyry. In the +lower room was a vase containing the most lovely flowers, that perfumed +the apartment. In this room, from the judicious introduction of +scarlet and crimson, you have the effect of sunshine. The ceilings +are belted; the interstices painted crimson. It is impossible +to give any idea of the splendour of these two rooms, the finishing +touch being cabinet looking glasses, introduced most judiciously.</p> +<p>We now took leave of Mr. Beckford. His horses were waiting +in the courtyard, with two servants standing respectfully and uncovered +at the door, whilst two more <!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>held +the horses. The stately and magnificent tower, the terrace on +which we lingered a few moments, whilst this extraordinary man mounted +his horse, all, all conspired to cast a poetical feeling over the parting +moment which I shall never forget. I was reminded most forcibly +of similar scenes in Scott’s novels. In particular the ancient +Tower of Tillietudleni was presented to my mind’s eye, and I gazed +for a moment on this gifted person with a melancholy foreboding that +it was for the last time, and experienced an elevation of feeling connected +with the scene which it is impossible to describe. Such moments +are worth whole years of everyday existence. We turned our heads +to look once more on a man who must always create the most intense interest, +and I repeated those lines of Petrarch, introduced by Mr. Beckford himself +in his “Italy” on a similar occasion—</p> +<blockquote><p>O ora, o georno, o ultimo momento,<br /> +O stelle conjurate ad impoverime, &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I forgot to mention a cluster of heliotrope in blossom on the Down, +growing in such wild luxuriance that I could not believe it to be my +little darling flower. However, on stooping down I soon perceived +by its fragrance it was the same plant that I had been accustomed to +admire in greenhouses or in small pots.</p> +<h3>October, 1838.</h3> +<p>I have had another peep at the Tower. The day was auspicious. +I ran up the staircase and wonderfully enjoyed the prospect. Looking +through the middle window towards the west you have a delicious picture. +The hills undulate in the most picturesque manner, the motion of the +clouds at one moment threw a line of hills into shadow, which were the +next minute illumined by the sun, the Avon glittering in the sunbeams, +the village of Weston embedded in the valley, a rich cluster of large +trees near the town, variegated by the tints of autumn, united to form +a charming picture. The pieces of plate-glass that compose the +twelve windows of this beautiful room cannot be less than 5½ft. +high and 18in. wide.</p> +<p>On descending I was struck with the lovely effect of the corridor, +at the end of which is the statue of St. Anthony; on the pedestal (a +block of Sienna) are engraved in letters of gold these words, “Dominus +illuminatio mio.” The Francesco Mola (the Magdalen in the +Desert) is a lovely <!-- page 31--><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>landscape +indeed; the rocks and their spirited execution, lightness of the foliage, +&c., in the foreground remind one of St. Rosa. A cluster of +cherubs hovers over the head of Mary. In the smaller room on the +upper floor is the picture by West of the Installation of the Knights +of the Garter. From the contemplation of this picture I entertain +a higher opinion of the genius of West than I ever did before. +You can scarcely believe it is his painting; there is nothing of his +usual hard outline, the shadows are rich, the background soft and mellow, +the lights unite sweetly, and it is touched in the free and juicy manner +of the sketches of Rubens or Paolo Veronese. It is difficult to +believe that this picture is not 200 years old. The head of a +child by Parmigiano; a large picture by Breughel. The enameled +glass vase brought to Europe by St. Louis; this must be of Arabian manufacture, +for the figures on horseback have turbans. A large cabinet by +Franks, the panels most highly finished, different passages in the history +of Adam and Eve form small pictural subjects. In the larger room +is the cabinet by Bernini, inlaid with mosaic work in the most finished +manner, surrounded by three brass figures; Bellini’s two pictures +of the Doges of Venice. Over Bernini’s cabinet a large piece +of looking glass is most judiciously introduced. In this and the +lower room are two lovely crimson Wilton carpets; the ceilings of both +are painted purple and red. Holbein’s candlesticks are really +gold! the chasing is elegance itself; an inscription states that they +were made in 1800 for the Abbey at Fonthill. A fine picture of +the infant St. John by Murillo; a curious one of St. Anthony by Civoli; +an exquisite interior, by Steynwich, very small, and being a night effect, +the shadows are amazingly rich. In the passage leading to the +garden are the two ivory cups by Frainingo. One is much better +carved than the other; it is copied from an antique vase. The +figures are Bacchanalian.</p> +<p>The effect of this lower room from the vestibule, illumined by the +rays of the glorious sun, was more beautiful than anything of the sort +I had ever witnessed. Nothing can be more happy than the way the +colour of this apartment is managed. The walls are covered with +scarlet cloth; the curtains on each side of the window being a deep +purple produce a striking contrast, the colouring of the ceiling, crimson, +purple and gold, is admirable. <!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>In +one window is a large table formed of a block of Egyptian porphyry, +on which were flowers in a large vase of ivory; in the other recess, +or rather tribune, is the small round Himalaya block. Over the +fireplace is a charming little Dietrich, and on either hand a Polemberg. +On this side of the room the two De Vos, two singularly shaped cabinets +of oak finely carved; on one is a gold teapot. On the right hand +of the door is a Simonini: sky and distance admirable, the colouring +of two large trees very rich and mellow, one a dark green, the other +pale yellow. A picture on the other side of the door by Canaletti. +On the opposite side of the room a large Pastel, ruins of foliage fine +but figures lanky. I had not before to-day seen the Tower from +the road entrance. The effect of the whole building is grand, +and improved by the arches which support the terrace. On the left +the ground is admirably broken and the foliage rich.</p> +<h3>November 3rd, 1838.</h3> +<p>Mr. Beckford showed me some sketches of St. Non’s Sicily and +harbour of Malta, forty drawings, given by St. Non himself, each bearing +the name in pencil; he also showed me a MS. “Arabian Nights.” +He studied Arabic very deeply in Paris, and had a Mussulman master. +He read to me part of a tale never put into the ordinary edition, translated +into English tersely and perspicuously. He is much indebted to +Arabic MS. for “Vathek,” and reads Arabic to this day. +He says Lord Byron and others are quite mistaken as to the age when +he wrote “Vathek,” not seventeen but twenty-three years +of age. “Sir,” says he, “if you want a description +of Persepolis read ‘Vathek.’” He laughed heartily +at the different sorts of praise bestowed by Lord Byron on “Vathek,” +equal to Rasselas, like Mackenzie. Lord Byron tried many times +to get a sight of the Eps [?], often intreated the Duchess to intercede +with her father. He once called with “Vathek” in his +pocket, which he styled “his gospel.” Moore’s +“Lallah Rookh” has too much western sentimentality for an +Oriental romance, the common fault of most writers of such stories. +Beckford prefers Moore’s Melodies, and likes the “Loves +of Angels” least of all. “Fudge Family” he thinks +admirable.</p> +<p>Speaking of the triumph he achieved in writing as an Englishman a +work which was supposed for years to be <!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>by +a Frenchman, he said: “Oh, my great uncle did more than me. +Did you never read ‘Memories of the Duke of Grammont?’ +Voltaire told me he was entirely indebted to my great uncle for whatever +beauty of style he might possess. French is just the same as English +to me. He showed me the Eps.”</p> +<p>October 31.—Went out and accidentally met Mr. Beckford speaking +in praise of his West, who painted expressly for Mr. Beckford. +I said, “How did you get him to paint it so soft? I suppose +you particularly requested him to do so.” “Oh no. +Mr. West was a man who would stand no dictation; had I uttered such +a thought he would have kicked me out of the house! Oh no, that +would never have done. The only way to get him to avoid his hard +outline would be to entreat him to paint harder. West came one +day laughing to me, and said, “All London is in ecstasy beholding +the Lazarus in Sebo Deltz, painted they say by M. A. Ha! ha! they +don’t know it is my painting. L., who brought the picture +over, came to me in the greatest distress, ‘The set is ruined +by the salt water; you must try and restore the Lazarus.’ +I was shut up for two days, and painted the Lazarus.” On +my asking if he believed it true, Mr. Beckford replied, “Perfectly +true, for I saw it lying on the floor and the figure of Lazarus was +quite gone.” “Then you don’t value that picture +much?” “All the rest is perfect, and I offered £12,000 +for that and four more. I saw in the Escurial the marriage of +Isaac and Rebecca, now belonging to the Duke of Wellington. In +fact, of all the pictures in the collection there is not more than one +in ten that has escaped repainting. The picture given by H. Carr +I cannot admire, the outline of the hill is so hard. It is just +the picture Satan would show poor Claude, if he has him, which we charitably +hope he has not.”</p> +<h3>November 10th, 1838.</h3> +<p>How poor dear Mozart would be frightened (moralised Mr. Beckford) +could he hear some of our modern music! My father was very fond +of music, and invited Mozart to Fonthill. He was eight years old +and I was six. It was rather ludicrous one child being the pupil +of another. He went to Vienna, where he obtained vast celebrity, +and wrote to me, saying, “Do you remember that march you composed +which I kept so long? Well, I have just composed <!-- page 34--><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>a +new opera and I have introduced your air.” “In what +opera?” asked I. “Why in the ‘Nozze di Figaro.’” +“Is it possible, sir, and which then is your air?” +“You shall hear it.” Mr. Beckford opened a piano, +and immediately began what I thought a sort of march, but soon I recognized +“Non piu andrai.” He struck the notes with energy +and force, he sang a few words, and seemed to enter into the music with +the greatest enthusiasm; his eye sparkled, and his countenance assumed +an expression which I had never noticed before.</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford showed me some very fine original drawings by Gaspar +Poussin, exceedingly delicate. On the back a profile most exquisitely +finished, another just begun, and another by his brother in admirable +style, sketch of a peacock by Houdekoeta. “When I was in +Portugal,” said Mr. Beckford, “I had as much influence and +power as if I had been the King. The Prince Regent acknowledged +me in public as his relation (which indeed I was). I had the privilege +of an entrance at all times, and could visit the Royal Family in ordinary +dress. Of course, on grand occasions I wore Court costume.” +He showed me a letter from a rich banker in Lisbon, a man in great esteem +at the Palace; another letter from one of the first noblemen in Portugal, +entreating him to use his influence with the Prince Regent for the reversion +of the decree of confiscation of some nobleman’s estate; another +from the Grand Prior of Aviz (in French). Mr. Beckford was treated +as a grandee of the first rank in Germany; he showed me an autograph +of the Emperor Joseph. Voltaire said to him, “Je dois tout +à votre oncle, Count Anthony H. The Duchess was acknowledged +in Paris by the Bourbon as Duchess de Chatelrault. On going to +Court I saw her sitting next the Royal Family with the Duchess, whilst +all the Court was standing. The Duchess has fine taste for the +arts, quite as strong a feeling as I have. The Duke also is amazingly +fond of the arts. The Marquis of D. has a spice of my character.”</p> +<p>The Claude looked more blooming and pearly than ever. I observed +that I had never seen such a tone in any Claude in existence. +I know many pictures which had that hue, but they have been so daubed +and retouched that they are no longer the same. He showed me the +Episodes. One begins, “Mes malheurs, O Caliphe sont encore +plus grands que les votres, aussi bien que mes <!-- page 35--><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>crimes, +tu a été trompé en ecoutant un navis malheureux; +mais moi, pour me désobir d’une amitie la plus tendre, +je suis precipité dans ce lieu d’horreur.”</p> +<p>The origin of Beckford’s “Lives of Extraordinary Painters” +was very odd. When he was fifteen years old the housekeeper came +to him, and said she wished he would tell her something about the artists +who painted his fine pictures, as visitors were always questioning her, +and she did not know what to answer. “Oh, very well; I’ll +write down some particulars about them.” He instantly composed +“Lives of Extraordinary Painters.” The housekeeper +studied the manuscript attentively, and regaled her astonished visitors +with the marvellous incidents it contained; however, finding many were +sceptical, she came to her young master and told him people would not +believe what she told them. “Not believe? Ah, that’s +because it is only in manuscript. Then we’ll have it printed; +they’ll believe when they see it in print.” He sent +the manuscript to a London publisher, and inquired what the expense +of printing it would be. The publisher read it with delight, and +instantly offered the youthful author £50 for the manuscript. +The housekeeper was now able to silence all cavilers by producing the +book itself.</p> +<p>Having left an umbrella in Lansdown-crescent, I inquired of the gentleman +to whom I am indebted for my introduction to Mr. Beckford if he thought +it would be taking a liberty if I sent in my name when I called for +it. “I really don’t know what to say” was the +answer, “you must do as you think proper. I will only say +that for my part I am always looking out for squalls, but I daresay +he will be glad to see you.” I accordingly determined to +make a bold stroke and call on him, remembering the old adage, “Quidlibet +audendum picturis atque poetis.” The weather was most delightful. +A wet and cold summer had been succeeded by warm autumnal days, on which +the sun shone without a cloud; it was one of those seasons of settled +fair so uncommon in our humid country, when after witnessing a golden +sunset you might sleep</p> +<blockquote><p>Secure he’d rise to-morrow.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I therefore called at the great man’s house, and found the +umbrella in the exact corner in the ante-room where it had been left +a fortnight before, and told the porter to <!-- page 36--><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>announce +my name to his master. I waited in anxiety in the hall a few moments. +The footman returned, saying his master was engaged, but if I would +walk upstairs Mr. Beckford would come to me. The servant led the +way to the Duchess Drawing Room, opened the door, and on my entering +he retired, leaving me alone in this gorgeous apartment, wondering what +the dickens I did there. You may suppose I was not a little delighted +at this mark of confidence, and spent several minutes examining the +pictures till the author of “Vathek” entered, his countenance +beaming with good nature and affability. He extended his hand +in the kindest manner, and said he was extremely glad to see me. +I instantly declared the purport of my visit, that I had some copies +of pictures that were once in his possession, and that it would give +me the greatest possible pleasure to show them to him. “I +shall be delighted to see them” was the reply, “but for +some days I am rather busy; I will come next week.” “You +have had a visit from the author of ‘Italy’,” I observed; +“people say that you like Mr. R.’s poem.” “Oh +yes, some passages are very beautiful. He is a man of considerable +talent; but who was that person he brought with him? What a delightful +man! I suppose it was Mr. L.” I replied, “I +believe they are great friends.”</p> +<p>“What an awful state the country is in (he observed)! +One has scarcely time to think about poetry or painting, or anything +else, when our stupid, imbecile Government allows public meetings of +150,000 men, where the most inflammatory language is used and the common +people are called on to arm, beginning, too, with solemn prayer. +Their prayer will never succeed. No, no, their solemn prayer is +but a solemn mockery. They seemed to have forgotten the name of +the only Mediator, without whose intercession all prayer is worse than +useless. Well, well (said Mr. Beckford), depend upon it we shall +have a tremendous outbreak before long. The ground we stand on +is trembling, and gives signs of an approaching earthquake. Then +will come a volcanic eruption; you will have fire, stones, and lava +enough. Afterwards, when the lava has cooled, there will be an +inquiry for works of art. I assure you I expect everything to +be swept away.” I ventured to differ from him in that opinion, +and said I was convinced that whatever <!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 37</span>political +changes might happen, property was perfectly secure. “Some +reforms,” I said, “would take place, and many pensions perhaps +be swept away, but such changes would never affect him or his, and after +all it was but a matter of pounds, shillings, and pence.” +“There you are right,” he exclaimed. “If anything +can save us ’twill be pounds, shillings, and pence,” meaning, +I suppose, a union of all classes who possessed property, from the pound +of the peer to the penny of the plebeian. “But the present +times are really very critical. Have you time to go through the +rooms with me?” he demanded. I replied that nothing would +give me greater pleasure. “But perhaps you are going somewhere?” +I answered that I was perfectly disengaged. Passing along the +landing of the stairs he paused before the Alderman’s portrait, +and observed, “Had my father’s advice been taken we should +not now be in danger of starvation.” I ventured to say that +in those days there was more reciprocal feeling between the poor and +the rich than at present; now a-days classes are so divided by artificial +barriers that there is little or no sympathy between any. “You +are mistaken,” he replied. “As long as I remember +anything there was always discontent, always heartburning; but at the +time of my father’s speech dissatisfaction had risen to such a +pitch that I assure you these people were on the point of being sent +back to the place they came from.” (He alluded to the present +Royal Family).</p> +<p>Mr. Beckford opened the door of the great library, and on entering +I immediately discovered the cause of my being so much puzzled as to +its architecture. There are two doors in this magnificent room; +one leads to the Duchess Drawing Room, the other to the landing, and +to produce the air of privacy so delightful to a bookworm the latter +is covered with imitative books, exactly corresponding with the rest +of the library. I remembered on my first entering the room from +the staircase, and when the servant had closed the door, there appeared +but one entrance, which was that by which we left this noble room, passing +thence into the Duchess’s room. I puzzled my brains in vain +to make out the geography of the place, but could make neither top nor +tail, and should never have solved the enigma but for this third visit. +“I have been to Fonthill,” he said, “since I saw you. +I don’t think much of what Papworth has done there. I rode +<!-- page 38--><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 38</span>thirty-eight +miles in one day without getting out of the saddle. That was pretty +well, eh?” I thought so indeed for a man in his seventy-ninth +year.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>On the 28th of October, 1844, we left Bath determined to examine +the once far-famed Abbey of Fonthill, and to see if its scenery was +really as fine as report had represented. The morning was cold +and inauspicious, but when we reached Warminster the sun burst out through +the mists that had obscured him, and the remainder of the day was as +genial and mild as if had been May. We procured the aid of a clownish +bumpkin to carry our carpet bag, and left Warminster on foot. +About four miles from that town those barren and interminable downs +are reached which seem to cover the greater part of Wiltshire. +The country is as wild as the mountain scenery of Wales, and the contrast +between it and the polished city we had left in the morning was truly +singular. We took the road to <i>Hindon</i>, but a worthy old +man, of whom we asked particulars, pointed out a pathway, which cut +off at least a mile and a half. We followed his direction, and +left the high road. Mounting the hill by a steep and chalky road +we reached a considerable elevation; before us extended a succession +of downs, and in the extreme distance a blue hill of singular form, +at least nine miles off, was crowned by buildings of very unusual appearance. +Curiosity as to the place was at its utmost stretch, but our ignorant +bumpkin could tell nothing about it. It surely cannot be Fonthill +was the instant suggestion? Impossible. Can we see the remains +at this distance? We continued our walk for about two miles, without +losing sight of this interesting edifice, and at length all doubts were +cleared in the certainty that the long wished-for object was absolutely +before us. It is impossible to describe the feelings of interest +experienced by the sight of these gigantic remains. The eastern +transept still rises above the woods, a point, pinnacle, and round tower. +Descending the hill towards Hindon we lost sight of the Abbey. +A most singular specimen of country life was presented by an old shepherd, +of whom we inquired the way. “How far is it to Hindon?” +“About four miles.” “Is this the right road?” +“Yes, <!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>you +cannot miss it, but I haven’t been there these forty years. +Naa, this is forty years agone save two that I went to Hindon: ’twas +in 1807.”</p> +<p>This place, which once sent members to Parliament, and which the +author of “Vathek” himself represented for many years, is +not so large as the village of Batheaston! There are neither lamps +nor pavement, but it possesses a most picturesque little church. +It was one of the rotten boroughs swept away, and properly enough, by +the Reform Bill. Here our rustic relinquished his burden to a +Hindon lad, who acted as our future cicerone, and undertook to show +us the way to the inn called the Beckford Arms. Soon after leaving +Hindon the woods of Fonthill were reached. We mounted a somewhat +steep hill, and here met with a specimen of the gigantic nature of the +buildings. A tunnel about 100 feet long passed under the noble +terrace, reaching from Knoyle to Fonthill Bishop, at least three miles +in length; the tunnel was formed to keep the grounds private. +The beech trees, now arrayed in gaudy autumnal tints, seen through this +archway have a lovely effect. Emerging from the tunnel, the famous +wall, seven miles long, was just in front. To the left you trace +the terrace, on a charming elevation, leading to Fonthill Gardens, and +here and there you have glimpses of the great lake. The ground +is broken and varied in the most picturesque fashion. You pass +some cottages that remind you of Ryswick, and soon come to the church +of Fonthill Gifford. This church is perfectly unique in form, +its architecture purely Italian; one would think it was designed by +Palladio. There is a pretty portico supported by four tall Doric +columns, and its belfry is a regular cupola. We at last gained +the inn, and were shown into a lovely parlour that savoured of the refined +taste that once reigned in this happy solitude. It is lofty, spacious, +and surrounded by oak panels; it has a charming bow window, where are +elegantly represented, in stained glass on distinct shields, the arms +of Alderman Beckford, his wife, and their eccentric son.</p> +<p>The evening was most lovely. A soft haze had prevailed the +whole afternoon, and as there was still an hour’s daylight I determined +on instantly visiting the ruins. Just without the sacred enclosure +that once prevented all intrusion to this mysterious solitude is the +lovely little village of Fonthill Gifford; its charming <!-- page 40--><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 40</span>cottages, +with their neat gardens and blooming roses, are a perfect epitome of +English rusticity. A padlocked gate admits the visitor within +the barrier; a steep road, but gently winding so as to make access easy, +leads you to the hill, where once stood “the gem and the wonder +of earth.”</p> +<p>The road is broad and entirely arched by trees. Emerging suddenly +from their covert an astonishing assemblage of ruins comes into view. +Before you stands the magnificent eastern transept with its two beautiful +octangular towers, still rising to the height of 120 feet, but roofless +and desolate; the three stately windows, 60 feet high, as open to the +sky as Glastonbury Abbey; in the rooms once adorned with choicest paintings +and rarities trees are growing. Oh what a scene of desolation! +What the noble poet said of “Vathek’s” residence in +Portugal we may now literally say of Fonthill.</p> +<blockquote><p>Here grown weeds a passage scarce allow<br /> +To halls deserted, portals gaping wide.<br /> +Fresh lessons, ye thinking bosoms, how<br /> +Vain are the pleasures by earth supplied,<br /> +Swept into wrecks anon by Time’s ungentle tide.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Of all desolate scenes there are none so desolate as those which +we now see as ruins, and which were lately the abode of splendour and +magnificence. Ruins that have been such for ages, whose tenants +have long since been swept away, recall ideas of persons and times so +far back that we have no sympathy with them at all; but if you wish +for a sight of all that is melancholy, all that is desolate, visit a +modern ruin. We passed through briars and brambles into the great +octagon. Straight before us stands the western doorway of the +noble entrance hall; but where is its oaken roof, with its proud heraldic +emblazonments, where its lofty painted windows, where its ponderous +doors, more than 30 feet high? The cross still remains above, +as if symbolical that religion triumphs over all, and St. Anthony still +holds out his right hand as if to protect the sylvan and mute inhabitants +of these groves that here once found secure shelter from the cruel gun +and still more cruel dog. But he is tottering in his niche, and +when the wind is high is seen to rock, as if his reign were drawing +to a close.</p> +<p>Of the noble octagon but two sides remain. Looking up, but +at such an amazing elevation that it makes one’s <!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 41</span>neck +ache, still are seen two windows of the four nunneries that adorned +its unique and unrivalled circuit. And what is more wonderful +than all, the noble organ screen, designed by “Vathek” himself, +has still survived; its gilded lattices, though exposed for twenty years +to the “pelting of the pitiless storm,” yet glitter in the +last rays of the setting sun. We entered the doorway of the southern +entrance hall, that door which once admitted thousands of the curious +when Fonthill was in its glory. This wing, though not yet in ruins, +not yet entirely dismantled, bears evident signs of decay. Standing +on the marble floor you look up through holes in the ceiling, and discover +the once beautifully fretted roof of St. Michael’s Gallery. +We entered the brown parlour. This is a really noble room, 52 +feet long, with eight windows, painted at the top in the most glorious +manner. This room has survived the surrounding desolation, and +gives you a slight idea of the former glories of the place. Each +window consists of four gigantic pieces of plate-glass, and in the midst +of red, purple, lilac, and yellow ornaments are painted four elegant +figures, designed by the artist, Hamilton, of kings and knights, from +whom Mr. Beckford was descended. As there are eight windows there +are thirty-two figures, drawn most correctly. What reflections +crowd the mind on beholding this once gorgeous room! There stood +the sideboard, once groaning beneath the weight of solid gold salvers. +In this very room dined frequently the magnificent “Vathek” +on solid gold, and there, where stood his table, covered with every +delicacy to tempt the palate, is now a pool of water, for the roof is +insecure, and the rain streams through in torrents. On the right +hand is the famous cedar boudoir, whose odoriferous perfume is smelt +even here. We entered the Fountain Court, but sought in vain the +stream that was once forced up, at vast expense, from the vale below +and trickled over its marble bason.</p> +<blockquote><p>For the stream has shrunk from its marble bed,<br /> +Where the weeds and desolate dust are spread.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>One would almost imagine Byron had written his lines in the “Giaour” +describing Hassan’s residence amidst the ruins of Fonthill, so +striking, so tangible, is the resemblance. He says of the fountains—</p> +<blockquote><p>’Twas sweet of yore to hear it play<br /> +And chase the sultriness of day,<br /> +<!-- page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span>As +springing high the silver dew<br /> +In whirls fantastically flew<br /> +And flung luxurious coolness round<br /> +The air, and verdure o’er the ground.<br /> +’Twas sweet, when cloudless stars were bright,<br /> +To view the wave of watery light<br /> +And hear its melody by night.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But the shades of evening, now rapidly advancing, warned us to depart +while there was yet light enough to trace our path through the gloomy +wood. We entered its thick and umbrageous covert, and were near +losing our road before we reached the barrier gate. The road was +strewed with dry leaves, which reminded me of the earthly hopes of man.</p> +<blockquote><p>He builds too low who builds beneath the skies,</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and he who wishes for solid happiness must rest on a broader base +than that afforded by momentary enjoyment, tempting and blooming as +the foliage of summer, but evanescent as its withered leaves.</p> +<p>The next morning was finer than our most sanguine wishes could have +anticipated. We were not long dispatching our comfortable breakfast, +and hastened to the barrier gate. We here met a venerable woman, +whose noble features and picturesque dress would have served as a splendid +model for Gainsborough or Ben Barker. Stopping to inquire a nearer +road to the Abbey, as she seemed indigenous to the place, I was tempted +to ask if she knew Mr. Beckford. “I have seen him, sir, +many, many times; but he is gone, and I trust—I do trust—to +rest. He was a good man to the poor, never was there a better.” +“You astonish me; I had heard that he never gave away anything.” +“Good gracious, sir, who could have invented such lies? +There never was a kinder friend to the poor, and when he left they lost +a friend indeed. Not give away anything! Why, sir, in the +winter, when snow was on the ground and firing dear, he used to send +wagons and wagons for coal to Warminster, and make them cut through +the snow to fetch it, and gave the poor souls plenty of firing, besides +money, blankets, and clothing, too, and as for me I can answer for three +half-sovereigns he gave me himself at different times with his own hand.” +“You surprise me.” “I saw him coming once with +his servants. I had my baby in my arms—that’s she +that lives in that cottage yonder, <!-- page 43--><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>she’s +grown a woman now—and I was shuffling along to get out of his +way, when he called out, ‘What a beautiful little babe, let me +look at it,’ and then he smiled and made as though he would shake +hands with the child, and, bless you, he slipped half-a-sovereign into +my hand.” I confess I was delighted at the little anecdote, +and I am sure the good woman’s praise was perfectly disinterested. +Those who know anything of the poor are convinced they never flatter +those from whom they can never again derive any benefit. I had +almost expected to hear curses, if not loud at least deep.</p> +<p>A bailiff resides in the Abbey stables, who has charge of the place, +but the “steeds are vanished from the stalls.” We +inquired if we could see the remaining apartments, but found the bailiff +was gone to Hindon, and had taken the keys with him. Here was +a difficulty indeed. “Perhaps,” said his daughter, +“you can get into the great Tower staircase; I think the door +is open.” We proceeded thither, but alas! a ponderous door +and locked most unequivocally denied all entrance. “Perhaps +father has left the key in his old coat; I will run and see” said +our interesting young cicerone. She scuttled off, and we waited +in anxiety, till in five minutes she returned with a large bunch of +keys, the passport to the extraordinary apartments still remaining. +My joy was as great at hearing the lock turn as was ever “Vathek’s” +when he discovered the Indian at the gate of the Hall of Eblis with +his <i>clef d’or</i>. The great circular staircase survived +the shock of the falling tower. The stairs wind round a massive +centre, or newel, three feet in diameter; the ascent is gentle, the +stairs at least six feet broad. They form an approach light, elegant, +and so lofty that you cannot touch with the hand the stairs above your +head. Numerous small windows make the staircase perfectly light, +and the inside is so clean that it is difficult to believe it is not +continually scoured and whitened, but this I was assured was not the +case. Two hundred and ten steps lead to a leaden roof, the view +from which beggars description. You have here a bird’s eye +view of the lovely estate. Majestic trees, hanging woods, and +luxuriant plantations cover the ground for two or three miles round, +whilst beyond this begin those immense and interminable downs for which +Wiltshire is so noted; they are dreary and barren enough in themselves, +but at <!-- page 44--><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>such +a point as this, where the foreground and middle distance are as verdant +and richly clad with trees as can possibly be desired, their effect +is very beautiful. The absence of enclosures produces breadth +and repose, and the local colour melts gradually into the grey distance +in the most charming manner. Looking westward the great avenue, +a mile in length, presents itself; to the south the Beacon-terrace, +a green road more than two miles long, leads to a high hill, where the +Alderman commenced, but never finished, a triangular tower. This +road, or rather avenue, has a most charming effect; the trees that bound +its sides are planted in a zigzag direction, so as to destroy the appearance +of formality, whilst in reality it is a straight road, and you walk +at once in a direct line, without losing the time you would if the road +were more tortuous. On the south side the view is most fascinating. +In a deep hollow not half-a-mile off, enbosomed, nay almost buried amidst +groves of pine and beech, are discovered the dark waters of the bittern +lake. The immense plantations of dark pines give it this sombre +hue, but in reality the waters are clear as crystal. Beyond these +groves, still looking south, you discover the woods about Wardour Castle, +and amongst them the silvery gleam of another sheet of water. +To the south-west is the giant spire of Salisbury, which since the fall +of Fonthill Tower now reigns in solitary stateliness over these vast +regions of down and desert. Stourton Tower presents itself to +the north, whilst to the west, in the extreme distance, several high +hills are traced which have quite a mountainous character—</p> +<blockquote><p>Naveled in the woody hills,<br /> +And calm as cherished hate, its surface wears<br /> +A deep, cold, settled aspect nought can shake.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The north wing of the Abbey, containing the oratory, does not seem +to have suffered from the fall of the Tower, and we next proceeded to +inspect it. A winding staircase from the kitchen court leads you +at once to that portion of the gallery called the vaulted corridors. +The ceilings of four consecutive rooms are beautiful beyond all expectation. +Prepared as I was by the engravings in Rutter and Britton to admire +these ceilings, I confess that the real thing was finer than I could +possibly have imagined. King Edward’s ceiling of dark oak +(and its ornaments in strong relief) is as fresh as if just painted, +and the beautiful <!-- page 45--><a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>cornice +round the four walls of this stately gallery is still preserved, with +its three gilded mouldings, but the seventy-two emblazoned shields that +formed an integral part of the frieze have been ruthlessly torn off. +The roof of the vaulted corridor with its gilded belts is the most perfect +of the series of rooms, and that of the sanctum is beautifully rich; +it is fretted in the most elegant way with long drops, pendants, or +hangings like icicles, at least nine inches deep. Here alas! the +hands of vandals have knocked off the gilded roses and ornaments that +were suspended. These three apartments are painted in oak, and +gold is most judiciously introduced on prominent parts. But the +ceiling of the last compartment is beyond all praise; it gleams as freshly +with purple, scarlet, and gold as if painted yesterday. Five slender +columns expand into and support a gilded reticulation on a dark crimson +ground. In the centre of the ceiling is still hanging the dark +crimson cord which formerly supported the elegant golden lamp I had +formerly admired in Lansdown-crescent; it seemed to have been hastily +cut down, and its height from the floor and its deep colour, the same +as the ceiling, has probably prevented its observation and removal. +The southern end of the gallery has been stripped of its floor, and +it was with difficulty, and not without danger, I got across a beam; +and, standing with my back against the brick wall that has been built +up at the end, where were once noble glazed doors opening into the grand +octagon, I surveyed the whole lovely perspective; the length from this +spot is 120 feet. The beautiful reddish alabaster chimney-piece +still remains, but it is split in the centre, whether from the weight +of wall or a fruitless attempt to tear it out I know not. The +recesses, once adorned with the choicest and rarest books, still retain +their sliding shelves, but the whole framework of the windows has been +removed, and they are open to the inclemency of the weather, or roughly +boarded up. The stove, once of polished steel, is now brown and +encrusted with rust as if the iron were 500 years old. It is impossible +for an architect or artist to survey the ruthless and wanton destruction +of this noble wing, unscathed and uninjured but by the hands of barbarous +man, without feelings of the deepest regret and sorrow. How forcibly +do the lines of the noble bard recur to the mind on surveying <!-- page 46--><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>these +apartments, still magnificent, yet neglected, and slowly and surely +falling into ruin—</p> +<blockquote><p>For many a gilded chamber’s here,<br /> +Which solitude might well forbear,<br /> +Within this dome, ere yet decay<br /> +Hath slowly worked her cankering way.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I ran up the circular staircase, and entered the noble state bedroom. +The enormous plate glasses still remain; the ceiling is of carved oak +relieved by gold ornaments. With what emotion did I turn through +the narrow gallery, leading to the state room, to the tribune, which +looked into the great octagon. A lofty door was at the extremity. +I attempted to open it; it yielded to the pressure, and I stood on the +very balcony that looked into the octagon.</p> +<p>Here the whole scene of desolation is surveyed at a glance. +How deep were my feelings of regret at the destruction of the loftiest +domestic apartment in the world. Twenty years ago this glorious +place was in all its splendour. High in the air are still seen +two round windows that once lighted the highest bedrooms in the world. +What an extraordinary idea! On this lofty hill, 120 feet from +the ground, were four bedrooms. Below these round windows are +the windows of two of the chambers called nunneries. Landing on +this balcony I quickly conjured up a vision of former glory. There +were the lofty windows gleaming with purple and gold, producing an atmosphere +of harmonious light peculiar to this place, the brilliant sunshine covering +everything within its influence with yellow quatrefoils. From +that pointed arch once descended draperies 50 feet long! The very +framework of these vast windows was covered with gold. There was +the lovely gallery opening to the nunneries, through whose arches ceilings +were discovered glittering with gold, and walls covered with pictures. +Exactly opposite was another tribune similar to this; below it the immense +doors of St. Michael’s Gallery, whose crimson carpet, thickly +strewed with white roses; was seen from this place, whilst far, far +above, at an elevation of 130 feet, was seen the lofty dome, its walls +pierced with eight tall windows, and even these were painted and their +frames gilded. The crimson list to exclude draught still remained +on these folding doors, but the lock was torn off! I closed the +doors, not without a feeling of sadness, <!-- page 47--><a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>and +returning to the small gallery again ran up the Lancaster Gallery to +another noble bedroom. Finding the stairs still intact I mounted +them, and found a door, which opened on to the roof. We were now +on the top of the Lancaster Tower. Though not so extensive as +the view from the platform of the great staircase, there is a peep here +that is most fascinating; it is the extreme distance seen through the +ruined window of the opposite nunnery.</p> +<p>The glimpse I had of the bittern lake having sharpened my appetite +to see it, I descended the staircase of the Lancaster turret, and marching +off in a southerly direction hastened towards its shores. But +it is so buried in wood that it was not without some difficulty we found +it. Never in happy England did I see a spot that so forcibly reminded +me of Switzerland. Though formed by Art, so happily is it concealed +that Nature alone appears, and this lovely lake seems to occupy the +crater of an extinct volcano. It is much larger than I anticipated. +A walk runs all round it; I followed its circuit, and soon had a glorious +view of the Abbey, standing in solitary stateliness on its wooded hill +on the opposite side. The waters were smooth as a mirror, and +reflected the ruined building; its lofty towers trembled on the crystal +wave, as if they were really rocking and about to share the fate of +the giant Tower that was once here reflected. We followed the +banks of the lake. Passing some noble oaks that were dipping their +extended boughs in the water, we soon gained the opposite side. +Here is a labyrinth of exotic plants, a maze of rhododendrons, azaleas, +and the productions of warmer climes, growing as if indigenous to the +soil. We passed between great walls of rhododendrons, in some +places 15 feet high, and reached a seat, from whence you see the whole +extent of this lovely sheet of water. What I had seen and admired +so much on Lansdown was here carried to its utmost perfection; I mean +the representation of a southern wilderness. In this spot the +formality of gardening is absolutely lost. These enormous exotic +plants mingle with the oak, the beech, and the pine, so naturally that +they would delight a landscape painter. These dark and solemn +groves of fir, contrasting so strikingly with the beech woods, now arrayed +in their last gaudiest dress, remind me forcibly of Switzerland and +the Jura Mountains, which I saw at <!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 48</span>this +very season. Nature at this period is so gaudily clad that we +may admire her for her excessive variety of tints, but cannot dare to +copy her absolutely. In this sheltered and sequestered spot the +oaks, though brown and leafless elsewhere, are still verdant as July. +Every varied shade of the luxuriant groves—yellow, red, dark, +and light green—every shade is reflected in these clear waters. +Three tall trees on the opposite shore have, however, quite lost their +leaves, and their reflection in the wave is so exactly like Gothic buildings, +that one is apt to imagine you see beneath the waters the fairy palace +of the Naiads, the guardians of this terrestrial Paradise.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RECOLLECTIONS OF THE LATE WILLIAM</p> +<pre> +BECKFORD*** + + +***** This file should be named 18809-h.htm or 18809-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/8/8/0/18809 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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