We paused an instant before leaving the dining room to admire a lovely bit of perspective. It is a line of open doors, exactly opposite each other (never seen but in large houses), piercing and uniting the three lower rooms. The effect is vastly increased by a mirror placed in the lobby leading to the second staircase, which mirror terminated the view. “L’une perspective bien ménagée charmait la vue; ici, la magic de l’optique la trompoit agréablement. En un mot, le plus curieux des hommes n’avait rien omis dans ce palais de ce qui pouvait contenter la curiosité de ceux qui le visitait.”
You may imagine I did not forget Mr. Beckford’s invitation, nor cease pestering my friend till he at length fixed a day for accompanying me again to Lansdown. My curiosity to see the Tower was excited. I longed to behold that extraordinary structure, but still more to see again the wonderful individual to whom it belonged.
We proceeded in the first place to the house, and I had an opportunity of examining the pictures and curiosities in the ante-room. Here are two cabinets, containing curious china, and small golden vessels. Most of the china was, I believe, painted at Sèvres expressly for Mr. Beckford, as the ornaments on several pieces indicate, being formed of his arms, so arranged as to produce a rich and beautiful effect without the slightest formality. I counted in one cabinet ten vessels of gold, in the other five: these were small teapots, caddies, cups, saucers, plates. I am told that they are used occasionally at tea-time.
Over the door is a magnificent drawing of the Abbey, by Turner, taken I should imagine at a distance of two miles. The appearance of the building with its lofty tower is grand and imposing. The foreground seems to have been an old quarry. The great lake glitters in the middle distance, from the opposite banks of which the ground gradually rises, and the eminence is crowned by the stately structure. Here are also a fine interior by Van Ostade from Fonthill, representing a noble picture gallery; a drawing of the interior of St. Paul’s; one by Rubens, representing Christ and the two disciples at Emmaus; a fine Swaneveldt; a glorious Weeninx, game
and fruit; with a lovely bit by Lance, and many smaller pictures.
I was informed that Mr. Beckford intended meeting us at the Tower, and that a servant was in readiness to conduct us thither by the walk through the grounds. We therefore issued by a private door, and presently entered the spacious kitchen garden, containing, I believe, seven or eight acres. A broad gravel walk, bordered by lovely flowers and fruit trees, leads to a magnificent terrace, which bounds the northern side of this beautiful enclosure, the view from which is enchanting. This noble terrace is screened from the north by a luxuriant shrubbery, from which arises an archway of massive proportions, erected chiefly to shut out the view of an unpicturesque object. The tout ensemble reminds one of Florence. You pass this gigantic portal, and ascend the hill by a winding pathway through the fields, the grass being always kept clipped and short. At the distance of half a mile from the house we crossed a lane, and our guide unlocking a gate entered the grounds at the brow of the hill. We again ascended, till we reached a broader way between two flourishing plantations, branching off to the left, and leading by a gently winding walk to a rustic sort of bungalow, which was discovered about a quarter of a mile off. “You must walk along here,” said my friend, “and behold the prospect before we mount higher, for you will find the view repay you.” It did indeed repay us: the grassy pathway extends along the side of the southern brow of Lansdown, and the view from this spot is unrivalled. The whole valley of the Doon stretches beneath you. Looking towards the east you discover in extreme distance the Marlborough Downs; then somewhat nearer Kingsdown, Bathford, the hills above Warleigh, with Hampton cliffs and the neighbouring woods, where Gainsborough, Wilson, and Barker studied Nature so well, and where is shown the flat rock called Gainsborough’s table, on which the first of this picturesque triumvirate so often ate his rustic meal. To the south Bladud’s splendid city, with its towers and stately buildings, backed by the long line of Wiltshire hills, and Alfred’s Tower is faintly traced in the clear, grey haze. The little conical hill of Englishcombe, where the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth drew up his army during his rash and fatal enterprise, awoke a thousand recollections,
whilst the lovely river flashed occasionally in the noontide sun. To the west are seen Newton Park, the Mendip Hills, Dundry Tower, and the Welsh hills, whilst the hazy atmosphere marked the position of another great city, Bristol. At the extreme western point, too, are seen the waters of the Bristol Channel, glittering under the glowing rays of the setting sun, and shining like a vast plateau of burnished gold.
After feasting our eyes on this lovely panorama and tracing out well known places, at one moment lost in obscurity from the shadow of a passing cloud and the next moment appearing in the full blaze of sunshine, we retraced our steps towards the path to the Tower. We again ascended the hill, and soon reached the sort of tableland on the top, which seems to me to have been once an immense quarry, and no doubt furnished stone in vast quantities for the building of the splendid city at the foot of the eminence. The remains of these quarries are most picturesque. At a little distance they seem to present the wrecks of stately buildings, with rows of broken arches, and vividly recall the idea of Roman ruins. I afterwards mentioned my impressions on seeing them to Mr. Beckford, who replied, “They do indeed put one in mind of the Campagna of Rome, and are vastly like the ruins of the Baths of Caracalla.” We were now on the brow of the hill, and soon felt the influence of the genial breezes from the Bristol Channel. We quitted the open Down, and passing under a low doorway entered a lovely shrubbery. The walk (composed of small fossils) winds between graceful trees, and is skirted by odoriferous flowers, which we are astonished to find growing in such luxuriance at an elevation of nearly a thousand feet above the vale below. In many places the trees meet, and form a green arcade over your head, whilst patches of mignonette, giant plants of heliotrope, and clusters of geranium perfume the air.
We next enter a beautiful kitchen garden, and are presented with a broad and noble straight walk fully ten feet in width and nearly four hundred feet long, between beds of flowers, and on either side beyond fruit trees and vegetables. The garden terminates with a picturesque building, pierced by a lofty archway, through which the walk passes. This garden is about eighty feet wide and about twelve feet below the level of the Down, being
formed in an old quarry, besides which a lofty wall on either side shelters it. One cannot describe one’s sensations of comfort at finding so delicious a spot in so unexpected a place. I said to the gardener, “I understood Mr. Beckford had planted everything on the Down, but you surely found those apple trees here. They are fifty years old.” “We found nothing here but an old quarry and a few nettles. Those apple trees were great trees when we moved them, and moving them stopped their bearing. They blossom in the spring and look pretty, and that is all master cares about.” We left this charming enclosure, passing under the archway before mentioned. And here I must pause a moment and admire the happy idea of placing this pretty building at the end of this cultivated spot. It closes the kitchen garden, and as its front is similar on either side, it harmonizes with the regular garden we have left, as well as with the wilder spot which we next approach. This building forms a complete termination to one of that succession of lovely scenes with which we are presented on our walk to the Tower. Each scene is totally distinct in character from the others, and yet with matchless taste they are united by some harmonious link, as in the present case.