summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/18809-h/18809-h.htm
blob: 86bc668c3a978637b32a3b176f5a2c14c4790857 (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
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.&nbsp; He intended to publish it at
the time of Mr. Beckford&rsquo;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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; For instance, I remember,
when a child, being warned that this great man was an infidel.&nbsp;
When he showed my Father the sarcophagus in which his body was to be
placed, he remarked, &ldquo;There shall I lie, Lansdown, until the trump
of God shall rouse me on the Resurrection morn.&rdquo;</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>,&mdash;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 &ldquo;Dazzled and drunk with beauty.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Besides all this I have this day been introduced
to that extraordinary man, the author of &ldquo;Vathek&rdquo; and &ldquo;Italy,&rdquo;
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!&nbsp; 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&rsquo;clock.&nbsp;
We were shown upstairs, passing many fine family pictures, and were
ushered into the neat library, where Mr. Beckford was waiting to receive
us.&nbsp; 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; &ldquo;You are welcome&rdquo; was the silent language.&nbsp;
I assure you I judge much, and often truly, of the character of individuals
from the deportment of their favourite dogs.&nbsp; I often find them
exactly indicative of their master&rsquo;s disposition.&nbsp; When you
are attacked by snarling, waspish curs is it at all wonderful if you
find them an echo of the proprietor?&nbsp; But this beautiful animal
reassured me, and gave me instantly a favourable idea of its master.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; It has on one side five lofty
windows, the gallery having three on the same side.&nbsp; You have the
light streaming through eight consecutive openings; these openings,
with their crimson curtains, doubled by the reflection, produce a most
charming perspective.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said
Mr. Beckford, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;&nbsp;
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&rsquo;s
<i>chef d&rsquo;&oelig;uvres</i> something still more lovely than our
imagination, than our expectation.&nbsp; I speak not now of the St.
Catherine, The Claud, The Titian, &amp;c., but all the pictures, whether
historical, landscape, or low life, have this unique character of excellence.&nbsp;
You look at a picture.&nbsp; You are sure it is by Gaspar, but you never
saw one of Poussin&rsquo;s that had such an exquisite tone of colour,
so fresh and with such free and brilliant execution.</p>
<p>But I digress.&nbsp; I forgot that it was the library and its pictures
I was attempting to describe.&nbsp; Well, at the other end hangs a portrait
of Pope Gregory, by Passerotti; the expression of the face Italian,
attitude like Raphael.&nbsp; Over the door a portrait of Cosmo de Medici
by Bronzino Allori, fresh as if painted yesterday.&nbsp; &ldquo;The
works of that master,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;are rare, but a friend of
mine, Mr. Day, had a noble one at his rooms in Piccadilly, St. John
in the Wilderness.&nbsp; The conception of the figure and poetical expression
of the face always seemed to me astonishingly fine.&nbsp; Pray, Sir,
do you know that picture?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Perfectly, it partakes
of the sublime and is amazingly fine.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;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.&nbsp; What a horrible piece of business!&nbsp; The father
of two sons, one of whom murdered the other, and that father is himself
the executioner of the survivor.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;It was dreadful
certainly,&rdquo; said Mr. Beckford.&nbsp; &ldquo;However, we have the
consolation of knowing that two broods of vipers were destroyed.&rdquo;</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.&nbsp; And no wonder, for
as Mr. Beckford observed, &ldquo;He could neither read nor write, but
he was none the worse for that.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;There is, then,
before us,&rdquo; I rejoined, &ldquo;the portrait of the man of whom
his master, Henri Quatre, said: &lsquo;Avec un Coun&eacute;table qui
re sait pas &eacute;crire, et un Chancelier qui ne sait pas le Latin,
j&rsquo;ai reussi dans toutes mes entreprises.&rsquo;&nbsp; It is the
very portrait <!-- page 8--><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>for
which he sat.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;The face,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;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&rsquo;s, and
whose possessors never performed the chivalrous deeds of the Constable.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;Witness Sir Thomas Lawrence&rsquo;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.&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. Beckford burst out
laughing.&nbsp; &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;here is a picture
that will perhaps please you.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
What think you of it?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;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.&nbsp; It conveys to my mind the exact idea of the cold-blooded
wretch, who consigned so many of his innocent countrymen to the flames.&rdquo;&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; Such light
and shade, such expressive eyes; the very epitome of Spanish character.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Is it not amazingly like Lord Byron?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;It certainly
is very like him, but much more handsome.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; It represents
a beautiful and truly dignified lady.&nbsp; 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&rsquo;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&rsquo;s sleeves, which seem to have been invented
expressly to conceal what is indeed most truly beautiful, a woman&rsquo;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 &ldquo;Nouronchar&rdquo;
of Vathek.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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&rsquo;s backgrounds.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Sir Joshua took the greatest pleasure and delight in painting
that picture, as it was left entirely to his own refined taste.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
Vain hope!&nbsp; Her disorder was fatal.&rdquo;</p>
<p>There is a portrait of Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s mother painted by West,
with a view of Fonthill in the background.&nbsp; Never was there a greater
contrast in this and the last picture; West certainly knew nothing of
portrait painting.&nbsp; The <i>tout ensemble</i> of the portrait in
question is as dry and hard as if painted by a Chinese novice.&nbsp;
There is also a portrait of the Countess, of Effingham, Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s
aunt.&nbsp; On one side is the original portrait by Reynolds of the
author of Vathek engraved as the frontispiece of the &ldquo;Excursions
to the Monasteries.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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&rsquo;s portrait is the Duke of
Hamilton when a boy.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Fronting us was
a portrait of Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s father, the Alderman and celebrated
Lord Mayor of London.&nbsp; Mr. Goodridge asked him if he knew a book,
just published, denying the truth of his father&rsquo;s famous speech
to George III.&nbsp; He seemed astonished, and stood still on the staircase.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Not true!&nbsp; What in the world will they find out next?&nbsp;
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&rsquo;s
manner.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;That is the portrait of my great grandfather,
Colonel Peter Beckford.&nbsp; It was painted by a French artist, who
went to Jamaica for the purpose, at the time he was Governor of the
island.&rdquo;&nbsp; It is a full length portrait, large as life, the
Colonel dressed in a scarlet coat embroidered richly with gold.&nbsp;
There is also a lovely portrait by Barker of the present Marquis of
Douglas, Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s grandson; it was painted when Lord Douglas
was twelve or thirteen years old.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Opposite the window is an upright grand pianoforte.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
Over the fire is what is seldom seen in a dining room, a large looking
glass.&nbsp; The paintings in this room have been valued at upwards
of &pound;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.&nbsp; But how
shall I attempt to describe to you the St. Catherine?&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;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&rsquo;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.&nbsp; Such grace and
sweetness, such softness and roundness in the limbs.&nbsp; 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?&nbsp; &ldquo;How
different,&rdquo; said Mr. Beckford, &ldquo;is that lovely creature
from Mr. Etty&rsquo;s beauties.&nbsp; They are for the most part of
a meretricious character, would do well enough for a mistress; but there,&rdquo;
pointing to the St. Catherine, &ldquo;there are personified the modesty
and purity a man would wish to have in a wife, and yet Frenchmen find
fault with it.&nbsp; C&rsquo;est un assez joli tableau, say they, mais
la tete manque, de l&rsquo;expression, si elle avait plus d&rsquo;esprit,
plus de vivacite!&nbsp; Mais Raphael, il n&rsquo;avait jamais passe
les Alpes.&rdquo;&nbsp; We burst out laughing, and I added, &ldquo;Le
pauvre Raphael quel dommage, de ne savoir rien du grand.&nbsp; Monarque!
ni de la grande nation.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yet,&rdquo; I continued,
&ldquo;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.&nbsp;
<!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 12</span>What
a shame that he never met with encouragement.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;But
I understood that he was tolerably successful.&nbsp; He painted many
things for me at Fonthill.&nbsp; You are surely mistaken.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;By no means,&rdquo; I replied.&nbsp; &ldquo;Latterly he seldom
sold a picture, and supported himself on the paltry income of &pound;200
a year, raised by making little designs for booksellers.&nbsp; Yet what
a noble painting is Chaucer&rsquo;s pilgrimage to Canterbury.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;It is indeed,&rdquo; said Mr. Beckford.&nbsp; &ldquo;But, sir,
there is another painter, Howard, whose conceptions are most poetical.&nbsp;
Do you remember his painting at Somerset House in 1824, representing
the solar system, from Milton&rsquo;s noble lines&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>Hither as to their fountain, other stars<br />
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light?&rdquo;</p>
</blockquote>
<p>&ldquo;I remember it perfectly; &rsquo;twas a most beautiful picture.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Milton&rsquo;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&rsquo;s idea in colour.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; What a wonderful picture!&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;He never painted a finer.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Mr. Beckford then pointed out his Claude.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; There
is a something in it, a je ne sais quoi.&nbsp; 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 &ldquo;southern climes and cloudless skies&rdquo;
that inspired Claude Lorraine.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; As to chiaro-oscure, it
is breadth and simplicity itself.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; Above are two of the finest Vernets; they
are both sea pieces.&nbsp; The colouring has a depth and richness I
never before saw in anything attributed to him.&nbsp; In the Louvre
are his most famous pictures, and what I now say is the result of calm
and mature reflection.&nbsp; I had the Louvre pictures constantly before
my eyes for three months.&nbsp; They are very large, and certainly have
great merit; but had I my choice I would prefer Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s
to any of the set.</p>
<p>West&rsquo;s original sketch for his great picture of King Lear,
painted for Boydell&rsquo;s Shakspeare Gallery&mdash;&ldquo;Blow, blow,
thou winter wind.&rdquo;&nbsp; A most wonderful performance.&nbsp; The
expression of face of the poor mad king is astonishing; the colouring
rich and mellow&mdash;nothing of West&rsquo;s usually hard outline.&nbsp;
The whole picture is full of energy and fire, and seems to have been
struck off with the greatest ease and rapidity.&nbsp; &ldquo;Do observe
the face of Edgar,&rdquo; said Mr. Beckford.&nbsp; &ldquo;Under his
assumed madness you trace a sentiment of respect and anxiety for the
monarch; he could not forget that it was his sovereign.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;I have seen,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;most of West&rsquo;s great
pictures, but there is more genius in that sketch than in anything I
ever saw of his.&nbsp; I think he took too much pains with his sketches.&nbsp;
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.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Sir, did you ever see his sketch of Death on the Pale Horse?&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
The President himself considered it his best and refused &pound;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 &pound;50.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Is it possible?&nbsp; I wish I had
known that he wanted to dispose of it.&nbsp; I should have liked it
beyond anything.&nbsp; It was most wonderful.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Above the picture of King Lear hangs a noble picture by Titian, the
composition of which reminded me much of Raphael.&nbsp; The Virgin&rsquo;s
face is extremely beautiful, but it is the sort of beauty we sometimes
meet with, that we sometimes may have seen.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The infant is extremely fine.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
The colouring is clear, the shadows rich, and the water softly painted
and extremely transparent.&nbsp; This is the most beautiful Canaletti
I ever saw.&nbsp; I observed that the generality of his pictures had
a hardness, dryness, and blackness that we saw nothing of here.&nbsp;
&ldquo;You are quite right,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;&nbsp;
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&rsquo;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.&nbsp; There really seems some charm,
some magic in the walls, so great is the similarity of colouring in
these <i>chefs d&rsquo;&oelig;uvres</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.&nbsp; They
are some of the rarest specimens by G. Poussin, Wouvermans, Berghem,
Van Huysum, Polemberg, and others.&nbsp; On a small table was placed
an elegantly cut caraffe of carnations of every variety of colour that
you can possibly imagine.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
Here is a noble drawing by Turner of the Abbey, according to a plan
proposed, but never carried out.&nbsp; The tower is conical, and would
have been even higher than the one that was completed.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
have seen,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;a fine drawing of Fonthill by Turner,
originally in your possession, but now belonging to Mr. Allnutt, of
Clapham.&nbsp; It is prodigiously fine.&nbsp; The scenery there must
be magnificent.&nbsp; The hills and beautiful lake in the drawing give
one an idea of Cumberland.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;It is a very fine drawing,
but rather too poetical, too ideal, even for Fonthill.&nbsp; The scenery
there is certainly beautiful, but Turner took such liberties with it
that he entirely destroyed the portraiture, the locality of the spot.&nbsp;
That was the reason I parted with it.&nbsp; There were originally six
drawings of the Abbey; three were disposed of at the sale, and I still
have the remaining ones.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;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.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Impossible,&rdquo;
he said, &ldquo;unless it were to be made a national affair, which indeed
is not very likely.&nbsp; It would cost at least &pound;100,000 to restore
it.&nbsp; But what can Papworth have done there?&nbsp; It must I should
think be something to the pavilion.&nbsp; I assure you I had no idea
of parting with Fonthill till Farquhar made me the offer.&nbsp; 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&mdash;with
the clothes you have on.&rdquo;</p>
<p>On the chimney piece, protected by a glass, is a precious Japan vase.&nbsp;
We examined it for some time under its envelope.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Mr. Beckford took off the glass, and
desired me to take it to the window.&nbsp; &ldquo;I am really afraid
to touch it,&rdquo; said I, but he forced it into my hands.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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, &amp;c.&nbsp;
These colours strongly opposed as in the remains of paintings at Pompeii.&nbsp;
Here are some other precious little pictures, a small Gerard Dow, a
Watteau, a Moucheron, and a Polemberg.&nbsp; He merely noticed them,
and then led us into the next room.</p>
<p>A noble library.&nbsp; It is an elegant and charming apartment, very
chastely ornamented.&nbsp; Here are no pictures; it is devoted entirely
to books and ponderous folios of the most rare and precious engravings.&nbsp;
The sides of the library are adorned by Scagliola pilasters and arched
recesses, which contain the books.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The ceiling is belted across and enriched
with bands of Grecian tracery in relief, delicately painted and slightly
touched with gold.&nbsp; On the walls are some gilded ornaments, enough
to give to the whole richness of effect without heaviness.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Ou sout peintes toutes les createures raissonables, et
les animaux qui ont habit&eacute; 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.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
&ldquo;This place,&rdquo; I observed, &ldquo;puts one in mind of the
Hall of Eblis.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;You are quite right,&rdquo; he observed,
&ldquo;this is unquestionably the Hall of Eblis.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Those
latticed doors,&rdquo; I continued, &ldquo;seem to lead to the small
apartment where the three princes, Alasi, Barkiarokh, and Kalilah, related
to Vathek and Nouronchar their adventures.&rdquo;&nbsp; He seemed amused
at my observations, and said, &ldquo;Then you have read &lsquo;Vathek.&rsquo;&nbsp;
How do you like it?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Vastly.&nbsp; I read it in English
many years ago, but never in French.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Then read it
in French,&rdquo; said Mr. Beckford.&nbsp; &ldquo;The French edition
is much finer than the English.&rdquo;</p>
<p>We mounted the staircase.&nbsp; Above you in open niches are Etruscan
vases.&nbsp; The ceiling is arched and has belts at intervals.&nbsp;
&ldquo;I wished to exclude the draughts,&rdquo; said Mr. Beckford, &ldquo;and
to do away with the cold and uncomfortable appearance you generally
have in staircases.&rdquo;&nbsp; The effect of the whole is so novel
that you lose all idea of stairs, and seem merely going from one room
to another.&nbsp; As you stand on the landing the vaulted and belted
ceiling behind you has the appearance of a row of arches in perspective.&nbsp;
The same solemn and mysterious gloom pervades the staircase.&nbsp; The
architect has frequently entreated to be allowed to introduce a little
more light, but in vain.&nbsp; The author of &ldquo;Vathek&rdquo; will
not consent to the least alteration of the present mystical effect,
and he is quite right.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; We entered the smaller of
two lovely drawing rooms lately fitted up.&nbsp; Before us, over the
mantelpiece, was suspended a magnificent full length portrait by Gaspar
de Crayer of Philip II. of Spain.&nbsp; Just then my head was too full
of the Hall of Eblis, of &ldquo;Vathek&rdquo; 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 &ldquo;Pale slave of Eblis.&rdquo;&nbsp; He burst out laughing.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Eh! eh! what?&nbsp; His face is pale indeed, but he was very
proud of his complexion.&rdquo;&nbsp; This is a very fine group.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;That dwarf,&rdquo; said Mr. Beckford, &ldquo;was
a man of great ability and exercised over his master a vast influence.&rdquo;&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
They contrast rather too violently with the whole of the upper part
of the picture.&nbsp; Over the steps are painted in Roman letters Rx.
Ps. 4s. (Rex Philippus quartos).&nbsp; Many who have hardly heard the
painter&rsquo;s name will of course not admire it, being done neither
by Titian nor Vandyke; but Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s taste is peculiar.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; In this room, suspended from
the ceiling by a silken cord, is the silver gilt lamp that hung in the
oratory at Fonthill.&nbsp; Its shape and proportion are very elegant,
and no wonder; it was designed by the author of &ldquo;Italy&rdquo;
himself.&nbsp; 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!&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Mr. Beckford called the beast, or reptile,
a mumpsimus (<i>sic</i>).&nbsp; &ldquo;Do look at the Pontimeitos in
the beautiful sketch,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;there is a bit from his
pencil certainly his own.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t imagine that those great
pictures that bear his name are all his pictures.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; But mark well the difference in execution between those
great gallery pictures and such a gem as this.&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. Beckford
then showed me a &ldquo;Ripon&rdquo; by Polemberg, a lovely classic
landscape, with smooth sky, pearly distance, and picturesque plains;
the Holy Family in the foreground.&nbsp; &ldquo;Do take notice of the
St. Joseph in this charming picture,&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;The
painters too often pourtray him as little better than a vagabond Jew
or an old beggar.&nbsp; Polemberg had too much good taste for such caricaturing,
and you see he has made him here look like a decayed gentleman.&rdquo;</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.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s observation on his first view of Mad. d&rsquo;
Aranda&rsquo;s boudoir instantly recurred to my mind.&nbsp; These are
his very words: &ldquo;I wonder architects and fitters-up of apartments
do not avail themselves more frequently of the powers of drapery.&nbsp;
Nothing produces so grand and at the same time so comfortable an effect.&nbsp;
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.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;I never was so convinced,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;of the truth
of your observations as at the present moment.&nbsp; What a charming
and comfortable effect does that splendid drapery produce!&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;I am very fond of drapery,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;but that
is nothing to what I had at Fonthill in the great octagon.&nbsp; There
were purple curtains fifty feet long.&rdquo;</p>
<p>Here was a cabinet of oak, made in Bath, in form most classical and
appropriate.&nbsp; On one side stood two massive and richly chased silver
gilt candlesticks that formerly were used in the Moorish Palace of the
Alhambra.&nbsp; &ldquo;Then you have visited Granada?&rdquo; I inquired.&nbsp;
&ldquo;More than once.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;What do you think of the
Alhambra?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;It is vastly curious certainly, but many
things there are in wretched taste, and to say truth I don&rsquo;t much
admire Moorish taste.&rdquo;</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&rsquo;s
family, and was given to the present proprietor by the Duchess.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Her fate was very tragical,&rdquo; he observed.&nbsp; In a small
cupboard with glass in front is a little ivory reliquior, four or five
hundred years old.&nbsp; It was given to Mr. Beckford by the late Mr.
Hope.&nbsp; 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&rsquo;s name produced an observation about
&ldquo;Anastasius,&rdquo; of which Mr. Beckford affirmed he was confident
Mr. Hope had written very little; he was, he positively asserted, assisted
by Spence.&nbsp; My companion here observed, &ldquo;Had Mr. Beckford
heard of the recent discoveries made of the ruins of Carthage?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Of Carthage?&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it must be New Carthage.&nbsp;
It cannot be the old town, that is impossible.&nbsp; If it were, I would
start to-morrow to see it.&nbsp; I should think myself on the road to
Babylon half-way.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Babylon must have been a glorious
place,&rdquo; observed my companion, &ldquo;if we can place any reliance
on Mr. Martin&rsquo;s long line of distances about that famous city.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Oh, Martin.&nbsp; Martin is very clever, but a friend of mine,
Danby, in my opinion far surpasses him.&rdquo;&nbsp; I cannot agree
with Mr. Beckford in this.&nbsp; 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 &ldquo;Paradise Lost,&rdquo; in particular &ldquo;The Fall of the
Apostate Angels,&rdquo; 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.&nbsp; It is of Greek workmanship, most probably about the time
of Alexander the Great.&nbsp; The stone is full of veins, as usual with
onyxes.&nbsp; &ldquo;Do observe,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;these satyrs&rsquo;
heads.&nbsp; Imagine the number of diamonds it must have taken to make
any impression on such a hard substance.&nbsp; Rubens made a drawing
of it, for it was pawned in his time for a large sum.&nbsp; I possess
an engraving from his drawing,&rdquo; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The light streams through enormous
painted windows, and at the extremity of the edifice is an altar surrounded
by figures in different attitudes.&nbsp; &ldquo;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.&rdquo;&nbsp;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh,
Washington Irving,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;is very poor in his descriptions;
he does not do justice to Spain.&rdquo;&nbsp; I wished he had spoken
with a little more enthusiasm of a favourite author, but I imagine that
the author of the &ldquo;Sketch Book&rdquo; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;That silvery stream,&rdquo;
he observed, &ldquo;winding amongst those gentle undulating hills must
be intended to represent Berkshire,&rdquo; or he pronounced it Barkshire.&nbsp;
With all due deference to the taste of the author of &ldquo;Vathek,&rdquo;
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.&nbsp; &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t in general like Lee&rsquo;s pictures,&rdquo;
he said, &ldquo;but that is an exception.&rdquo;&nbsp; In the corresponding
recess is a fine sea piece by Chambers.&nbsp; On the opposite side of
the room are rows of the most valuable books, which almost reach the
ceiling.&nbsp; I hinted that I was really afraid we were trespassing
on his leisure, as our visit was lengthened out most prodigiously.&nbsp;
&ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;I am delighted to see you.&nbsp;
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.&rdquo;&nbsp; We
now returned through the apartments.&nbsp; He accompanied us as far
as the dining room door, when he inquired if I had seen the Tower?&nbsp;
On my answering in the negative he said, &ldquo;Then you must come up
again.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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 &ldquo;Come <!-- page 22--><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>up
again.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; It is a line of open doors, exactly opposite
each other (never seen but in large houses), piercing and uniting the
three lower rooms.&nbsp; The effect is vastly increased by a mirror
placed in the lobby leading to the second staircase, which mirror terminated
the view.&nbsp; &ldquo;L&rsquo;une perspective bien m&eacute;nag&eacute;e
charmait la vue; ici, la magic de l&rsquo;optique la trompoit agr&eacute;ablement.&nbsp;
En un mot, le plus curieux des hommes n&rsquo;avait rien omis dans ce
palais de ce qui pouvait contenter la curiosit&eacute; de ceux qui le
visitait.&rdquo;</p>
<p>You may imagine I did not forget Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s invitation,
nor cease pestering my friend till he at length fixed a day for accompanying
me again to Lansdown.&nbsp; My curiosity to see the Tower was excited.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; Here
are two cabinets, containing curious china, and small golden vessels.&nbsp;
Most of the china was, I believe, painted at S&egrave;vres 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.&nbsp; I counted in one cabinet ten
vessels of gold, in the other five: these were small teapots, caddies,
cups, saucers, plates.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The appearance of
the building with its lofty tower is grand and imposing.&nbsp; The foreground
seems to have been an old quarry.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Here
are also a fine interior by Van Ostade from Fonthill, representing a
noble picture gallery; a drawing of the interior of St. Paul&rsquo;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.&nbsp; We therefore issued by a private door, and
presently entered the spacious kitchen garden, containing, I believe,
seven or eight acres.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
The <i>tout ensemble</i> reminds one of Florence.&nbsp; You pass this
gigantic portal, and ascend the hill by a winding pathway through the
fields, the grass being always kept clipped and short.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; &ldquo;You must walk along here,&rdquo; said my
friend, &ldquo;and behold the prospect before we mount higher, for you
will find the view repay you.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The whole valley of
the Doon stretches beneath you.&nbsp; 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&rsquo;s table,
on which the first of this picturesque triumvirate so often ate his
rustic meal.&nbsp; To the south Bladud&rsquo;s splendid city, with its
towers and stately buildings, backed by the long line of Wiltshire hills,
and Alfred&rsquo;s Tower is faintly traced in the clear, grey haze.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The remains of these quarries are most picturesque.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
I afterwards mentioned my impressions on seeing them to Mr. Beckford,
who replied, &ldquo;They do indeed put one in mind of the Campagna of
Rome, and are vastly like the ruins of the Baths of Caracalla.&rdquo;&nbsp;
We were now on the brow of the hill, and soon felt the influence of
the genial breezes from the Bristol Channel.&nbsp; We quitted the open
Down, and passing under a low doorway entered a lovely shrubbery.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The garden terminates with a picturesque
building, pierced by a lofty archway, through which the walk passes.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; One cannot describe one&rsquo;s sensations of comfort at finding
so delicious a spot in so unexpected a place.&nbsp; I said to the gardener,
&ldquo;I understood Mr. Beckford had planted everything on the Down,
but you surely found those apple trees here.&nbsp; They are fifty years
old.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;We found nothing here but an old quarry and
a few nettles.&nbsp; Those apple trees were great trees when we moved
them, and moving them stopped their bearing.&nbsp; They blossom in the
spring and look pretty, and that is all master cares about.&rdquo;&nbsp;
We left this charming enclosure, passing under the archway before mentioned.&nbsp;
And here I must pause a moment and admire the happy idea of placing
this pretty building at the end of this cultivated spot.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; On the opposite side
thirty or forty birds assemble at the same time to hail the appearance
of St. Anthony&rsquo;s devotee, and chirrup a song of gratitude for
their morning meal.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The grotto-like
arch winds underground for perhaps sixty or seventy feet.&nbsp; When
coming to its termination we are presented with a flight of rustic steps,
which leads us again directly on to the Down.&nbsp; Looking back you
cannot but admire the natural appearance of this work of art.&nbsp;
The ground over the grotto is covered with tangled shrubs and brambles.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
As we draw nearer to the Tower the ground is laid out in a wilder and
more picturesque manner, the walks are more serpentine.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Mr. Beckford welcomed
me in the kindest way, and immediately began pointing out the various
curious plants and shrubs.&nbsp; How on this happy spot specimens of
the productions of every country in the world unite!&nbsp; Shrubs and
trees, whose natural climates are as opposite as the Antipodes, here
flourish in the most astonishing manner.&nbsp; 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&rsquo;s is the only one that has survived.&nbsp; Here are
pine trees of every species and variety&mdash;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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; From this point the view is most imposing.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; The effect of the building is grand
and stately beyond description.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; This
is the real secret of Claude&rsquo;s seaports.&nbsp; His stately buildings,
moles, and tall towers form a right angle with the straight horizon;
thus the whole is magnificent.&nbsp; Nothing of the sort could be produced
in the interior of a country but in a situation like the present.&nbsp;
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?&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
From every part of the ground the pile looks grand, the lines producing
the most beautiful effect.&nbsp; The windows have iron gratings, which
give it an Oriental character.&nbsp; We entered, and immediately ascended
the Tower.&nbsp; A circular staircase was round the wall.&nbsp; The
proportion of the interior is beautiful; you see from the bottom to
the top.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
The balustrade is Egyptian in form, and banisters bronze.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The effect of distance seen through these apertures
unobstructed by framework, contrasted with the bronze balustrade without
and crimson curtains within, is truly enchanting.&nbsp; We were not
happy in the weather.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The height
is so great that everything looks quite diminutive.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The light descending from above gives
that fine effect which sets off statues so much.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; It is the Virgin and
two pretty boys, admirably drawn, very like Raphael, and in as fine
preservation as the St. Catherine.&nbsp; The execution is masterly,
and though not so free as the Raphael still it is forcible.&nbsp; The
figure of the left hand boy is very graceful, face beautiful and sweetly
dimpled.&nbsp; Opposite are a Francesco Mola and a Steinwych.&nbsp;
The Mola is exceedingly fine, the sky and landscape much like Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s
Gaspar Poussin in colour and execution; the Steinwych, interior of a
Cathedral, one of the most wonderful finished pictures I ever beheld.&nbsp;
This picture was painted for an ancestor of Mr. Beckford&rsquo;s.&nbsp;
Here there is a little cabinet full of rare and curious manuscripts.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; Its proportions seem exactly the same as the
one on the floor below, and decorations with its furniture pretty similar.&nbsp;
The windows in both are in one large plate, and the shutters of plain
oak.&nbsp; The colour of curtains and carpet crimson.&nbsp; 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
S&oelig;ur.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Then there
is a magnificent Houdekoeta, the landscape part painted by Both most
inimitably.&nbsp; A beautiful cabinet designed by Bernini, another with
sculptured paintings, in the centre the story of Adam and Eve.&nbsp;
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, &ldquo;Dejanira and
the Centaur,&rdquo; admirably done.&nbsp; Here are tables of the rarest
marbles, one composed of a block from the Himalaya Mountains.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; In the
lower room was a vase containing the most lovely flowers, that perfumed
the apartment.&nbsp; In this room, from the judicious introduction of
scarlet and crimson, you have the effect of sunshine.&nbsp; The ceilings
are belted; the interstices painted crimson.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; I was reminded most forcibly
of similar scenes in Scott&rsquo;s novels.&nbsp; In particular the ancient
Tower of Tillietudleni was presented to my mind&rsquo;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.&nbsp; Such moments
are worth whole years of everyday existence.&nbsp; 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 &ldquo;Italy&rdquo; on a similar occasion&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>O ora, o georno, o ultimo momento,<br />
O stelle conjurate ad impoverime, &amp;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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The day was auspicious.&nbsp;
I ran up the staircase and wonderfully enjoyed the prospect.&nbsp; Looking
through the middle window towards the west you have a delicious picture.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; The pieces of plate-glass that compose the
twelve windows of this beautiful room cannot be less than 5&frac12;ft.
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, &ldquo;Dominus
illuminatio mio.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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,
&amp;c., in the foreground remind one of St. Rosa.&nbsp; A cluster of
cherubs hovers over the head of Mary.&nbsp; In the smaller room on the
upper floor is the picture by West of the Installation of the Knights
of the Garter.&nbsp; From the contemplation of this picture I entertain
a higher opinion of the genius of West than I ever did before.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; It is difficult to
believe that this picture is not 200 years old.&nbsp; The head of a
child by Parmigiano; a large picture by Breughel.&nbsp; The enameled
glass vase brought to Europe by St. Louis; this must be of Arabian manufacture,
for the figures on horseback have turbans.&nbsp; A large cabinet by
Franks, the panels most highly finished, different passages in the history
of Adam and Eve form small pictural subjects.&nbsp; In the larger room
is the cabinet by Bernini, inlaid with mosaic work in the most finished
manner, surrounded by three brass figures; Bellini&rsquo;s two pictures
of the Doges of Venice.&nbsp; Over Bernini&rsquo;s cabinet a large piece
of looking glass is most judiciously introduced.&nbsp; In this and the
lower room are two lovely crimson Wilton carpets; the ceilings of both
are painted purple and red.&nbsp; Holbein&rsquo;s candlesticks are really
gold! the chasing is elegance itself; an inscription states that they
were made in 1800 for the Abbey at Fonthill.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; In the passage leading to the
garden are the two ivory cups by Frainingo.&nbsp; One is much better
carved than the other; it is copied from an antique vase.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Nothing can be more happy than the way the
colour of this apartment is managed.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; <!-- 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.&nbsp; Over the
fireplace is a charming little Dietrich, and on either hand a Polemberg.&nbsp;
On this side of the room the two De Vos, two singularly shaped cabinets
of oak finely carved; on one is a gold teapot.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; A picture on the other side of the door by Canaletti.&nbsp;
On the opposite side of the room a large Pastel, ruins of foliage fine
but figures lanky.&nbsp; I had not before to-day seen the Tower from
the road entrance.&nbsp; The effect of the whole building is grand,
and improved by the arches which support the terrace.&nbsp; 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&rsquo;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. &ldquo;Arabian Nights.&rdquo;&nbsp;
He studied Arabic very deeply in Paris, and had a Mussulman master.&nbsp;
He read to me part of a tale never put into the ordinary edition, translated
into English tersely and perspicuously.&nbsp; He is much indebted to
Arabic MS. for &ldquo;Vathek,&rdquo; and reads Arabic to this day.&nbsp;
He says Lord Byron and others are quite mistaken as to the age when
he wrote &ldquo;Vathek,&rdquo; not seventeen but twenty-three years
of age.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;if you want a description
of Persepolis read &lsquo;Vathek.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; He laughed heartily
at the different sorts of praise bestowed by Lord Byron on &ldquo;Vathek,&rdquo;
equal to Rasselas, like Mackenzie.&nbsp; Lord Byron tried many times
to get a sight of the Eps [?], often intreated the Duchess to intercede
with her father.&nbsp; He once called with &ldquo;Vathek&rdquo; in his
pocket, which he styled &ldquo;his gospel.&rdquo;&nbsp; Moore&rsquo;s
&ldquo;Lallah Rookh&rdquo; has too much western sentimentality for an
Oriental romance, the common fault of most writers of such stories.&nbsp;
Beckford prefers Moore&rsquo;s Melodies, and likes the &ldquo;Loves
of Angels&rdquo; least of all.&nbsp; &ldquo;Fudge Family&rdquo; 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: &ldquo;Oh, my great uncle did more than me.&nbsp;
Did you never read &lsquo;Memories of the Duke of Grammont?&rsquo;&nbsp;
Voltaire told me he was entirely indebted to my great uncle for whatever
beauty of style he might possess.&nbsp; French is just the same as English
to me.&nbsp; He showed me the Eps.&rdquo;</p>
<p>October 31.&mdash;Went out and accidentally met Mr. Beckford speaking
in praise of his West, who painted expressly for Mr. Beckford.&nbsp;
I said, &ldquo;How did you get him to paint it so soft?&nbsp; I suppose
you particularly requested him to do so.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh no.&nbsp;
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!&nbsp; Oh no, that
would never have done.&nbsp; The only way to get him to avoid his hard
outline would be to entreat him to paint harder.&nbsp; West came one
day laughing to me, and said, &ldquo;All London is in ecstasy beholding
the Lazarus in Sebo Deltz, painted they say by M. A.&nbsp; Ha! ha! they
don&rsquo;t know it is my painting.&nbsp; L., who brought the picture
over, came to me in the greatest distress, &lsquo;The set is ruined
by the salt water; you must try and restore the Lazarus.&rsquo;&nbsp;
I was shut up for two days, and painted the Lazarus.&rdquo;&nbsp; On
my asking if he believed it true, Mr. Beckford replied, &ldquo;Perfectly
true, for I saw it lying on the floor and the figure of Lazarus was
quite gone.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Then you don&rsquo;t value that picture
much?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;All the rest is perfect, and I offered &pound;12,000
for that and four more.&nbsp; I saw in the Escurial the marriage of
Isaac and Rebecca, now belonging to the Duke of Wellington.&nbsp; In
fact, of all the pictures in the collection there is not more than one
in ten that has escaped repainting.&nbsp; The picture given by H. Carr
I cannot admire, the outline of the hill is so hard.&nbsp; It is just
the picture Satan would show poor Claude, if he has him, which we charitably
hope he has not.&rdquo;</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!&nbsp; My father was very fond
of music, and invited Mozart to Fonthill.&nbsp; He was eight years old
and I was six.&nbsp; It was rather ludicrous one child being the pupil
of another.&nbsp; He went to Vienna, where he obtained vast celebrity,
and wrote to me, saying, &ldquo;Do you remember that march you composed
which I kept so long?&nbsp; 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.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;In what
opera?&rdquo; asked I.&nbsp; &ldquo;Why in the &lsquo;Nozze di Figaro.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Is it possible, sir, and which then is your air?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;You shall hear it.&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. Beckford opened a piano,
and immediately began what I thought a sort of march, but soon I recognized
&ldquo;Non piu andrai.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;When I was in
Portugal,&rdquo; said Mr. Beckford, &ldquo;I had as much influence and
power as if I had been the King.&nbsp; The Prince Regent acknowledged
me in public as his relation (which indeed I was).&nbsp; I had the privilege
of an entrance at all times, and could visit the Royal Family in ordinary
dress.&nbsp; Of course, on grand occasions I wore Court costume.&rdquo;&nbsp;
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&rsquo;s estate; another
from the Grand Prior of Aviz (in French).&nbsp; Mr. Beckford was treated
as a grandee of the first rank in Germany; he showed me an autograph
of the Emperor Joseph.&nbsp; Voltaire said to him, &ldquo;Je dois tout
&agrave; votre oncle, Count Anthony H.&nbsp; The Duchess was acknowledged
in Paris by the Bourbon as Duchess de Chatelrault.&nbsp; On going to
Court I saw her sitting next the Royal Family with the Duchess, whilst
all the Court was standing.&nbsp; The Duchess has fine taste for the
arts, quite as strong a feeling as I have.&nbsp; The Duke also is amazingly
fond of the arts.&nbsp; The Marquis of D. has a spice of my character.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The Claude looked more blooming and pearly than ever.&nbsp; I observed
that I had never seen such a tone in any Claude in existence.&nbsp;
I know many pictures which had that hue, but they have been so daubed
and retouched that they are no longer the same.&nbsp; He showed me the
Episodes.&nbsp; One begins, &ldquo;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 &eacute;t&eacute; tromp&eacute; en ecoutant un navis malheureux;
mais moi, pour me d&eacute;sobir d&rsquo;une amitie la plus tendre,
je suis precipit&eacute; dans ce lieu d&rsquo;horreur.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The origin of Beckford&rsquo;s &ldquo;Lives of Extraordinary Painters&rdquo;
was very odd.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh, very well; I&rsquo;ll
write down some particulars about them.&rdquo;&nbsp; He instantly composed
&ldquo;Lives of Extraordinary Painters.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;Not believe?&nbsp; Ah, that&rsquo;s
because it is only in manuscript.&nbsp; Then we&rsquo;ll have it printed;
they&rsquo;ll believe when they see it in print.&rdquo;&nbsp; He sent
the manuscript to a London publisher, and inquired what the expense
of printing it would be.&nbsp; The publisher read it with delight, and
instantly offered the youthful author &pound;50 for the manuscript.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; &ldquo;I really don&rsquo;t know what to say&rdquo; was the
answer, &ldquo;you must do as you think proper.&nbsp; 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.&rdquo;&nbsp; I accordingly determined to
make a bold stroke and call on him, remembering the old adage, &ldquo;Quidlibet
audendum picturis atque poetis.&rdquo;&nbsp; The weather was most delightful.&nbsp;
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&rsquo;d rise to-morrow.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>I therefore called at the great man&rsquo;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.&nbsp; I waited in anxiety in the hall a few moments.&nbsp;
The footman returned, saying his master was engaged, but if I would
walk upstairs Mr. Beckford would come to me.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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 &ldquo;Vathek&rdquo; entered, his countenance
beaming with good nature and affability.&nbsp; He extended his hand
in the kindest manner, and said he was extremely glad to see me.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; &ldquo;I
shall be delighted to see them&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;but for
some days I am rather busy; I will come next week.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;You
have had a visit from the author of &lsquo;Italy&rsquo;,&rdquo; I observed;
&ldquo;people say that you like Mr. R.&rsquo;s poem.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Oh
yes, some passages are very beautiful.&nbsp; He is a man of considerable
talent; but who was that person he brought with him?&nbsp; What a delightful
man!&nbsp; I suppose it was Mr. L.&rdquo;&nbsp; I replied, &ldquo;I
believe they are great friends.&rdquo;</p>
<p>&ldquo;What an awful state the country is in (he observed)!&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
Their prayer will never succeed.&nbsp; No, no, their solemn prayer is
but a solemn mockery.&nbsp; They seemed to have forgotten the name of
the only Mediator, without whose intercession all prayer is worse than
useless.&nbsp; Well, well (said Mr. Beckford), depend upon it we shall
have a tremendous outbreak before long.&nbsp; The ground we stand on
is trembling, and gives signs of an approaching earthquake.&nbsp; Then
will come a volcanic eruption; you will have fire, stones, and lava
enough.&nbsp; Afterwards, when the lava has cooled, there will be an
inquiry for works of art.&nbsp; I assure you I expect everything to
be swept away.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;Some
reforms,&rdquo; I said, &ldquo;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.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;There you are right,&rdquo; he exclaimed.&nbsp; &ldquo;If anything
can save us &rsquo;twill be pounds, shillings, and pence,&rdquo; meaning,
I suppose, a union of all classes who possessed property, from the pound
of the peer to the penny of the plebeian.&nbsp; &ldquo;But the present
times are really very critical.&nbsp; Have you time to go through the
rooms with me?&rdquo; he demanded.&nbsp; I replied that nothing would
give me greater pleasure.&nbsp; &ldquo;But perhaps you are going somewhere?&rdquo;&nbsp;
I answered that I was perfectly disengaged.&nbsp; Passing along the
landing of the stairs he paused before the Alderman&rsquo;s portrait,
and observed, &ldquo;Had my father&rsquo;s advice been taken we should
not now be in danger of starvation.&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;You
are mistaken,&rdquo; he replied.&nbsp; &ldquo;As long as I remember
anything there was always discontent, always heartburning; but at the
time of my father&rsquo;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.&rdquo;&nbsp; (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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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&rsquo;s room.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
&ldquo;I have been to Fonthill,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;since I saw you.&nbsp;
I don&rsquo;t think much of what Papworth has done there.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; That was pretty
well, eh?&rdquo;&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; We procured the aid of a clownish
bumpkin to carry our carpet bag, and left Warminster on foot.&nbsp;
About four miles from that town those barren and interminable downs
are reached which seem to cover the greater part of Wiltshire.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; We followed his direction, and
left the high road.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
Curiosity as to the place was at its utmost stretch, but our ignorant
bumpkin could tell nothing about it.&nbsp; It surely cannot be Fonthill
was the instant suggestion?&nbsp; Impossible.&nbsp; Can we see the remains
at this distance?&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; It is impossible to describe the feelings of interest
experienced by the sight of these gigantic remains.&nbsp; The eastern
transept still rises above the woods, a point, pinnacle, and round tower.&nbsp;
Descending the hill towards Hindon we lost sight of the Abbey.&nbsp;
A most singular specimen of country life was presented by an old shepherd,
of whom we inquired the way.&nbsp; &ldquo;How far is it to Hindon?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;About four miles.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Is this the right road?&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Yes, <!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>you
cannot miss it, but I haven&rsquo;t been there these forty years.&nbsp;
Naa, this is forty years agone save two that I went to Hindon: &rsquo;twas
in 1807.&rdquo;</p>
<p>This place, which once sent members to Parliament, and which the
author of &ldquo;Vathek&rdquo; himself represented for many years, is
not so large as the village of Batheaston!&nbsp; There are neither lamps
nor pavement, but it possesses a most picturesque little church.&nbsp;
It was one of the rotten boroughs swept away, and properly enough, by
the Reform Bill.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Soon after leaving
Hindon the woods of Fonthill were reached.&nbsp; We mounted a somewhat
steep hill, and here met with a specimen of the gigantic nature of the
buildings.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
The beech trees, now arrayed in gaudy autumnal tints, seen through this
archway have a lovely effect.&nbsp; Emerging from the tunnel, the famous
wall, seven miles long, was just in front.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The ground
is broken and varied in the most picturesque fashion.&nbsp; You pass
some cottages that remind you of Ryswick, and soon come to the church
of Fonthill Gifford.&nbsp; This church is perfectly unique in form,
its architecture purely Italian; one would think it was designed by
Palladio.&nbsp; There is a pretty portico supported by four tall Doric
columns, and its belfry is a regular cupola.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; A soft haze had prevailed the
whole afternoon, and as there was still an hour&rsquo;s daylight I determined
on instantly visiting the ruins.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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 &ldquo;the gem and the wonder
of earth.&rdquo;</p>
<p>The road is broad and entirely arched by trees.&nbsp; Emerging suddenly
from their covert an astonishing assemblage of ruins comes into view.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; Oh what a scene of desolation!&nbsp;
What the noble poet said of &ldquo;Vathek&rsquo;s&rdquo; 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&rsquo;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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; We passed through briars and brambles into the great
octagon.&nbsp; 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?&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Looking up, but
at such an amazing elevation that it makes one&rsquo;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.&nbsp; And what is more wonderful
than all, the noble organ screen, designed by &ldquo;Vathek&rdquo; himself,
has still survived; its gilded lattices, though exposed for twenty years
to the &ldquo;pelting of the pitiless storm,&rdquo; yet glitter in the
last rays of the setting sun.&nbsp; We entered the doorway of the southern
entrance hall, that door which once admitted thousands of the curious
when Fonthill was in its glory.&nbsp; This wing, though not yet in ruins,
not yet entirely dismantled, bears evident signs of decay.&nbsp; Standing
on the marble floor you look up through holes in the ceiling, and discover
the once beautifully fretted roof of St. Michael&rsquo;s Gallery.&nbsp;
We entered the brown parlour.&nbsp; This is a really noble room, 52
feet long, with eight windows, painted at the top in the most glorious
manner.&nbsp; This room has survived the surrounding desolation, and
gives you a slight idea of the former glories of the place.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; As there are eight windows there
are thirty-two figures, drawn most correctly.&nbsp; What reflections
crowd the mind on beholding this once gorgeous room!&nbsp; There stood
the sideboard, once groaning beneath the weight of solid gold salvers.&nbsp;
In this very room dined frequently the magnificent &ldquo;Vathek&rdquo;
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.&nbsp; On the right
hand is the famous cedar boudoir, whose odoriferous perfume is smelt
even here.&nbsp; 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 &ldquo;Giaour&rdquo;
describing Hassan&rsquo;s residence amidst the ruins of Fonthill, so
striking, so tangible, is the resemblance.&nbsp; He says of the fountains&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>&rsquo;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&rsquo;er the ground.<br />
&rsquo;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.&nbsp; We entered its thick and umbrageous covert, and were near
losing our road before we reached the barrier gate.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; We were not long dispatching our comfortable breakfast,
and hastened to the barrier gate.&nbsp; We here met a venerable woman,
whose noble features and picturesque dress would have served as a splendid
model for Gainsborough or Ben Barker.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; &ldquo;I have seen him, sir,
many, many times; but he is gone, and I trust&mdash;I do trust&mdash;to
rest.&nbsp; He was a good man to the poor, never was there a better.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;You astonish me; I had heard that he never gave away anything.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;Good gracious, sir, who could have invented such lies?&nbsp;
There never was a kinder friend to the poor, and when he left they lost
a friend indeed.&nbsp; Not give away anything!&nbsp; 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.&rdquo;&nbsp;
&ldquo;You surprise me.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;I saw him coming once with
his servants.&nbsp; I had my baby in my arms&mdash;that&rsquo;s she
that lives in that cottage yonder, <!-- page 43--><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>she&rsquo;s
grown a woman now&mdash;and I was shuffling along to get out of his
way, when he called out, &lsquo;What a beautiful little babe, let me
look at it,&rsquo; 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.&rdquo;&nbsp; I confess I was delighted at the little anecdote,
and I am sure the good woman&rsquo;s praise was perfectly disinterested.&nbsp;
Those who know anything of the poor are convinced they never flatter
those from whom they can never again derive any benefit.&nbsp; 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 &ldquo;steeds are vanished from the stalls.&rdquo;&nbsp; We
inquired if we could see the remaining apartments, but found the bailiff
was gone to Hindon, and had taken the keys with him.&nbsp; Here was
a difficulty indeed.&nbsp; &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; said his daughter,
&ldquo;you can get into the great Tower staircase; I think the door
is open.&rdquo;&nbsp; We proceeded thither, but alas! a ponderous door
and locked most unequivocally denied all entrance.&nbsp; &ldquo;Perhaps
father has left the key in his old coat; I will run and see&rdquo; said
our interesting young cicerone.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
My joy was as great at hearing the lock turn as was ever &ldquo;Vathek&rsquo;s&rdquo;
when he discovered the Indian at the gate of the Hall of Eblis with
his <i>clef d&rsquo;or</i>.&nbsp; The great circular staircase survived
the shock of the falling tower.&nbsp; The stairs wind round a massive
centre, or newel, three feet in diameter; the ascent is gentle, the
stairs at least six feet broad.&nbsp; They form an approach light, elegant,
and so lofty that you cannot touch with the hand the stairs above your
head.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Two hundred and ten steps lead to a leaden roof, the view
from which beggars description.&nbsp; You have here a bird&rsquo;s eye
view of the lovely estate.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The absence of enclosures produces breadth
and repose, and the local colour melts gradually into the grey distance
in the most charming manner.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; On the south side the view is most fascinating.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; The immense plantations of dark pines give it this sombre
hue, but in reality the waters are clear as crystal.&nbsp; Beyond these
groves, still looking south, you discover the woods about Wardour Castle,
and amongst them the silvery gleam of another sheet of water.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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&mdash;</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.&nbsp; A winding staircase from the kitchen court leads you
at once to that portion of the gallery called the vaulted corridors.&nbsp;
The ceilings of four consecutive rooms are beautiful beyond all expectation.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; King Edward&rsquo;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.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; Here alas! the
hands of vandals have knocked off the gilded roses and ornaments that
were suspended.&nbsp; These three apartments are painted in oak, and
gold is most judiciously introduced on prominent parts.&nbsp; But the
ceiling of the last compartment is beyond all praise; it gleams as freshly
with purple, scarlet, and gold as if painted yesterday.&nbsp; Five slender
columns expand into and support a gilded reticulation on a dark crimson
ground.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; The stove, once of polished steel, is now brown and
encrusted with rust as if the iron were 500 years old.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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&mdash;</p>
<blockquote><p>For many a gilded chamber&rsquo;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.&nbsp;
The enormous plate glasses still remain; the ceiling is of carved oak
relieved by gold ornaments.&nbsp; With what emotion did I turn through
the narrow gallery, leading to the state room, to the tribune, which
looked into the great octagon.&nbsp; A lofty door was at the extremity.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp;
How deep were my feelings of regret at the destruction of the loftiest
domestic apartment in the world.&nbsp; Twenty years ago this glorious
place was in all its splendour.&nbsp; High in the air are still seen
two round windows that once lighted the highest bedrooms in the world.&nbsp;
What an extraordinary idea!&nbsp; On this lofty hill, 120 feet from
the ground, were four bedrooms.&nbsp; Below these round windows are
the windows of two of the chambers called nunneries.&nbsp; Landing on
this balcony I quickly conjured up a vision of former glory.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; From
that pointed arch once descended draperies 50 feet long!&nbsp; The very
framework of these vast windows was covered with gold.&nbsp; There was
the lovely gallery opening to the nunneries, through whose arches ceilings
were discovered glittering with gold, and walls covered with pictures.&nbsp;
Exactly opposite was another tribune similar to this; below it the immense
doors of St. Michael&rsquo;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.&nbsp; The crimson list to exclude draught still remained
on these folding doors, but the lock was torn off!&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Finding the stairs still intact I mounted
them, and found a door, which opened on to the roof.&nbsp; We were now
on the top of the Lancaster Tower.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; But
it is so buried in wood that it was not without some difficulty we found
it.&nbsp; Never in happy England did I see a spot that so forcibly reminded
me of Switzerland.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; It is much larger than I anticipated.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; We followed the
banks of the lake.&nbsp; Passing some noble oaks that were dipping their
extended boughs in the water, we soon gained the opposite side.&nbsp;
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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; In this spot the
formality of gardening is absolutely lost.&nbsp; These enormous exotic
plants mingle with the oak, the beech, and the pine, so naturally that
they would delight a landscape painter.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; In this sheltered and sequestered spot the
oaks, though brown and leafless elsewhere, are still verdant as July.&nbsp;
Every varied shade of the luxuriant groves&mdash;yellow, red, dark,
and light green&mdash;every shade is reflected in these clear waters.&nbsp;
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.  Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.



*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://www.gutenberg.org/license).


Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

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

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.

1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.


Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf.


Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director
     gbnewby@pglaf.org

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit:
http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate


Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.

Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

     http://www.gutenberg.org

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

</pre></body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-04-25 08:41:44 +0000