Greville Memoirs. Chatsworth [Map], September 27th, 1830.

Got to Sprotborough last Sunday; Lord Talbot and Lady Cecil, William Lascelles, Irby, Lady Charlotte Denison, Captain Grey. It rained all the time of the races. They offered Priam to Chesterfield for £3,000 before his match, and he refused; he offered it after, and they refused. There were a number of beautiful women there—my cousin Mrs. Foljambe, Misses Mary and Fanny Brandling the best. Came here on Friday night, and found as usual a large party, but rather dull; Granvilles, Newboroughs, Wharncliffes, G. Seymours, Sir J. and Lady Fitzgerald (very pretty), Talbots, Madame Bathiany, Beaumonts, G. Lamb. Yesterday Brougham came with his brother, sister, and daughter-in-law, in the highest spirits and state of excitement, going about Yorkshire, dining and speechifying; he was at Doncaster too. Lord Granville was just returned from Huskisson's (deceased) funeral at Liverpool. It was attended by a great multitude, who showed every mark of respect and feeling. He died the death of a great man, suffering torments, but always resigned, calm, and collected; took the Sacrament, and made a codicil to his will, said the country had had the best of him, and that he could not have been useful for many more years, hoped he had never committed any political sins that might not be easily forgiven, and declared that he died without a feeling of ill-will and in charity with all men. As he lay there he heard the guns announcing the Duke of Wellington's arrival at Manchester, and he said, 'I hope to God the Duke may get safe through the day.' When he had done and said all he desired, he begged they would open a vein and release him from his pain. From the beginning he only wished to die quickly. Mrs. Huskisson was violently opposed to his being buried at Liverpool, and it was with great difficulty she was persuaded to consent to the repeated applications that were made to her for that purpose.

Diary of Caroline Girlie. After having spent our time most agreeably with our Derbyshire, as we had before done with our Yorkshire friends, our London party set out on our return to the Metropolis, but in our way back was to stay a few days at Matlock [Map] and see Chatsworth [Map]; the latter we did the morning we left Mr. Slater's, it being about ten miles distant. This celebrated seat in the Peak of Derbyshire of his Grace of Devonshire I must own does not quite answer what report had taught me to expect, tho' undoubtedly striking; but I was told it would appear less so to us than to strangers in general by the Slaters having a key to go through his Grace's grounds, a better and much shorter road than the public one, but that did not give one near so picturesque a view of Chatsworth's [Map] situation as if we had gone down to it all at once from the barren moors. The house is of stone, and the architecture thought very fine, twenty-two rooms on a floor; the windows of the principal storey, seventeen feet in height, are all looking-glass, of panes two feet wide, the frames double gilt; the door, and window-frames, and staircases of marble; ceilings and some apartments painted by Verrio and other celebrated artists; there is some fine tapestry, and in one chamber a most elegant bed, and furniture of fine old print set upon Nankeen, which has a very pretty effect, as the colour of the ground sets off the work. There are many fine pictures; one range of rooms they still style Mary, Queen of Scots, as she was some time here, as well as at his Grace's other seat of Hardwick; there is a very elegant chapel, the altar and font fine marble, seats and gallery cedar, the walls and ceiling painted. The front towards the garden is esteemed a most regular piece of architecture. The frieze under the cornice has the family motto upon it, in gilt letters so large as to take up the whole length, tho' only two words, "Cavendo Tutos," which are as applicable to the situation of the house as the name of the family. The waterworks, which are reckoned the finest in England, were all played off, may be said to be more grand than pleasing, as there is a formality in them, particularly the grand cascade, which takes off every idea of the rural scene they are supposed to afford one, and a kind of triflingness (if I may make a word), in the copper¹ willow-tree, and other contrivances beneath the dignity of the place. The gardens are fine. The very disadvantages of the situation contriving to their beauty. On the east side, not far distant, rises a prodigious mountain, so thick planted with beautiful trees that you only see a wood gradually ascending, as if the trees crowded one above the other to admire the stately pile before them. 'Tis said that Marshal Tallard when he returned to his own country, when he reckoned up the days of his captivity, said he should always leave out those he spent at Chatsworth; and I must own this magnificent (tho' at the same time gloomy), place may justly be stiled one of the wonders of the Peake.... In speaking of the waterworks, I forgot to mention the length of the great cascade, 220 yards long with twenty-three falls. In prosecuting our journey of about eleven miles, 'tis hardly possible to describe the variety of beauties; sometimes we were like Don Quixote, almost imagining ourselves enchanted, at another terrified by the huge rocks, which by their stupendous height seemed to threaten every minute to crush us by their fall. In the greatest of our terrors (when in a very narrow road, the above-mention'd rocks on one side, and an immense precipice down to the river on the other), we could not help laughing at the calm answer of one of the postillions, who by often going, I suppose, had not an idea of the danger we apprehended, for only calling out to beg he'd let us walk, and saying, "Where, friend, are you going?" "Only to Matlock Baths [Map], ladies." So indeed we knew, but at that moment doubted the wisdom of our driver, who, however conveyed us very safe to the destined spot. Ceremony seems banished from this agreeable place,. as on entering the long room strangers as well as acquaintances most politely made inquiries about the terrors of the way, &c, which themselves had before experienced. The very early hour of rising at Matlock [Map], gave us the next morning a still finer idea of the uncommon beauties of the place, as a most glorious day gave it additional lustre. The time of bathing is between six and seven, the water warm, and the pleasantest to drink that can be; at eight the company meet in the long room to breakfast in parties. This room and baths were built in 1734 by Stephen Egglinton. 'Tis a very good one, fifty feet long, windows all the way on each side, commanded the most romantic views, one way a fine terrace, beyond that a lawn extended to the river Derwent, which latter is a continual pleasing murmur by the current forcing itself over large pieces of rock; over this rises a most picturesque and natural shrubbery, to an immense and perpendicular height on the crag of rocks. On the left is seen Matlock High Torr [Map], a rocky mountain which, from the surface of the water 1757 to the top, is 445 feet. As there is always a cool spot among the woods, walking seems the particular amusement of the place. At two the bell rings for dinner, and, as before said, ease without unnecessary ceremony reigns here. Every one sits down without any form, those who come first by the rule taking the uppermost seats at the long table. There is a gallery for a band of music, who play the whole time of meals, The fatigue of dress, too, is at this public place quite avoided, as hats are general, as the company walk again till evening, when there is a ball in the long room till supper, and sometimes after. Every one retires very early, as few card-tables are seen, gaming not having yet reached this rural spot. The Boat-house, as 'tis call'd, we went one afternoon to drink tea at, where we bought curiosities of spars, &c, of the miners, men employed to the number of above ten thousand about Matlock [Map] only. We went, too, one morning to see them melt lead at a village near, call'd Cumford, but the heat was so intense we did not stay long among them; and the poor souls told us was often very prejudicial to them. That evening we went in a barge on the river, but it being not navigable, 'tis but in few places the stones and craginess of the rocks will allow of boats. Every evening almost we found new company on our return to supper. Tho' the numbers perhaps were lessn'd, as most likely as many were gone off the same morning, about a hundred generally assembled at dinner. I heard Miss Slater, who sometimes makes a stay there, say that two or three days has made a total change of inhabitants. We tried one evening to ascend the prodigious rock I before spoke of, call'd Matlock High Torr [Map]. Many do, it seems, perform it, but I own I was frighted before I had got a quarter of the way up, and each object below began to appear so diminutive that I, even with some others, consented to be ridiculed for my fears, and with vast joy got down again as soon as possible, and even thought I felt giddy for hours after, and thought myself most happy when I got into the grove, one of the sweetest walks in Matlock [Map].

Note 1. On pulling a string this sham tree deluges the stranger with a shower-bath.

Memorials of Francis Chantrey RA in Hallamshire and Elsewhere Part IV The in Sheffield. Ridiculous as it would be to look for the germ of his genius in any of those fictions of boyhood which I have previously mentioned, it does not seem equally immaterial here to remark, that at the time when Ramsay's apprentice first began to try his hand at modelling, there was not perhaps a large town in England that afforded fewer examples or incentives to such a pursuit than Sheffield. Three recumbent figures, and one kneeling effigy, in the "Shrewsbury Chapel," at the Parish Church [Map], comprised the monumental statuary-probably the work of Italian artists; while out-of-doors there were a respectably executed figure of Justice, by Waterworth, of Doncaster, at the head of the Shambles; a spirited profile of Shakspeare, with some dramatic symbols, on the pediment of the Theatre, executed by a wandering stranger of the name of Renilowe; a poor exhibition of the "Norfolk Arms" on the old Hospital Chapel, the joint work of one of the masons-Peter Skinner, of Gleadless and a rambling genius called "Jem Officer," from York; a small lugubrious lion over the door of the Assay Office, by H. Mozley, once an employé of Ramsay's; and, best of all, an "Angel, "in terra-cotta, with a brazen trumpet, as a sign on the inn and in the street denominated there from - the early work of Rossi, who, while a youth, lived with his father in a house opposite. Of course our young aspirant saw what works of the chisel were to be seen at Wentworth House - the present noble gallery at Chatsworth [Map] did not then exist: indeed, with the writer in the Atlas, I "happen to know that the few collections of ancient sculpture which were within his reach while he lived in the country were visited by him, and that in particular he paid two visits to Newby, whilst still a young man and still younger artist, and came away deeply impressed by the works of sculpture in that mansion." Perhaps it should be added, as somewhat remarkable, that, with the exception of the figures of the Marquis of Rockingham at Wentworth, and the Earl of Strafford at Stainbro', there did not at the period of Chantrey's apprenticeship - nor am I aware that there does at this day -- exist a single standing life-size statue, of modern man or woman, in marble or gritstone, within doors or without, either in Sheffield or within the circuit of more than a hundred miles around the town.