rough stone to avoid the tax -a pigsty under the carved orielthe gatehouse occupied by poultry, and the chapel turned into the cart-stable. Even the villages of this part of the county have a stamp of antiquity about them. In the chalk districts the cottages are of a meaner kind, being usually of brick or compressed clay, and thatched. They lie buried in the bottoms, invisible to a traveller over the high downs, who is apt to think this part of the county wholly uninhabited. The towns have rarely any good architectural features of early date, with the exception of a few interesting market-crosses, one of which, that of Malmesbury, is remarkable for its elegance. Of late years several handsome town-halls, corn-exchanges, and other public buildings have been erected. Among the modern mansions of note may be mentioned Wilton House, the seat of the Earls of Pembroke, to whom the monastery was granted at the dissolution. Of the original abbey, nothing remains, nor, of the mansion that succeeded it on the same site, either the famous Holbein porch, or the Inigo Jones south front. James Wyatt in the last century modernized, or, as he imagined, Gothicized, the whole. More recent alterations have, however, greatly improved the character of the building. The interior is rich in well-known and admired treasures of art -the marbles collected by James eighth Earl, and the paintings, especially the Vandykes of the great saloon, and among these the large picture of the Herbert family. After all, the great interest of Wilton lies in its family and historical associations, in the reminiscences it evokes of the author of the 'Arcadia' and its principal personage, 'Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother.' Similar associations, though of a more recent stamp, will ever haunt the halls of Bowood, the favourite retreat of more than one generation of great statesmen, the hospitable resort through a lengthened period of wit, poetry, philosophy, literature, and high art. Tottenham Park and Savernake Forest, the Marquis of Ailesbury's, together compose perhaps the most magnificent breadth of sylvan scenery in the island, to which the neighbouring chalk hills, some of which rise above 1000 feet in height from the sea, add a fine effect. Of its original mansion, Wolfhall, the ancient seat of the Sturmys and Seymours, little is left but the old barn in which Henry VIII. and the Lady Jane held their marriage-feast. The long rambling galleries of the neighbouring Littlecot Hall still present a fit scene for the traditionary tale of Wild Darell's deed of darkness, which, in spite of the doubts raised by sceptical archeologists, will find believers to the end of time on the faith of Walter Scott's 'Rokeby' note. Besides, Besides, the bed-curtain still shows the fatal patch; the grate is to be seen in the bed-room; the stone stile still exists on which the hero of the tale broke his neck after it had by luck or favour escaped the gallows. These are material proofs such as no lover of the marvellous will discredit-in spite of Lord Campbell. There are many other county tales, equally strange and more authentic. More than one Wiltshire gentleman has been the hero of deeds of violence or assassination. The murder of the Hartgills by Lord Stourton in 1556, for which he suffered with a silken cord,' not less, it is to be supposed, than his four servants, who met their fate at the same time in hempen ones, is a wild and scarcely intelligible story. Another is the murder of Henry Long in 1594, a younger brother of Sir Walter of Draycote, by Sir Henry Danvers of Dauntesey and his brother Sir Charles, who, with a body of retainers, burst into a room at Corsham, where Long was dining with a large company, and shot him dead on the spot. The brothers Danvers fled to Titchfield House, the seat of Wriothesley Earl of Southampton, and thence escaped across the Channel. The cause of the quarrel was never known. Though a sentence of outlawry was passed against the murderers, it was soon reversed, and, indeed, was so little acted on that Sir Henry was positively created a peer, Baron Danvers, while the outlawry was still in force against him. The crimes of Mervyn Audley, Earl of Castlehaven, of Fonthill, in South Wiltshire, for which he suffered execution in 1631, are too well known to be more than alluded to here. The assassination of Thomas Thynne, of Longleat-Tom of Ten Thousand -by Count Konigsmark in 1682, though it took place in the streets of London, occupies a page in Wiltshire story. The interest turns on the romance attached to the motive of the deed and the character of the fair mischief, the heiress of the Percies, at the time affianced to Thynne, but married within four months after his death to the Duke of Somerset. Swift insinuated, in some doggerel lines, that she had been privy to the murder, and is said to have lost thereby the bishopric of Hereford. Konigsmark himself escaped conviction through management and court interest, though his instruments, the actual perpetrators of the murder, were executed. One, Stern by name, protested 'his was a hard case that he was going to die for the sake of a man he had never spoken to (Konigsmark), for a lady whom he had never seen, and a dead man whom he never had a view of'-Thynne having been shot inside in his coach. The Romance of the Peerage contains few wilder tales than this. It was Count Philip, brother of this Count Charles Konigsmark, who was the ill-fated lover lover of Sophia of Zell, and himself assassinated and buried in a gallery of the palace of Hanover in 1694. So much for the safety of life and the impartiality of justice two or three centuries back In nothing, perhaps, has society more improved than in these points. It is worth while to read such events, as affording a contrast to the present happier times. Among the modern seats of Wiltshire, one we have just mentioned, Fonthill, a few years since attracted very general attention. It affords an instance, such as old Aubrey delighted in recording, of the frequent changes that, as if by a sort of fatality, befal certain families, places, or properties. The ancient mansion of the Mervyns fell a prey to the flames. The second, built by the Cottingtons, and purchased by Alderman Beckford, shared the same fate in 1755. The third-Fonthill splendens, as it was called-erected by him at a cost of a quarter of a million, was for the most part pulled down in the beginning of the present century. Then sprung up that fairy fabric the Abbey, a wonder and a mystery for the years through which it arose on the summit of a lofty hill, no one, except the workmen, being admitted within the high walls of the surrounding grounds, six miles in circuit, and topped with chevaux de frise to keep out curious adventurers. And then it fell, first into the hands of Mr. Robins, who, in 1822, admitted all the world to it, and, through him, into those of Mr. Farquhar, an unknown old bachelor, just arrived from India with a million in his pocket, who paid down near four hundred thousand pounds for the Abbey and its contents. And then, after another sale by Phillips, which lasted twenty-seven days, and was attended by thousands, it fell bodily, leaving much wreck and rubbish behind. We remember visiting it shortly after the catastrophe, and admiring the ingenious construction of the great pillars of the lofty Gothic hall. They had been broken through, and the fractures disclosed literally but a few pieces of packthread, connecting some nails at the top with others at the bottom, upon which strings plaster of Paris had been run in a mould into the form of clustered columns. The more substantial framework of the building-if such an epithet can be applied at all to it—was of thin brick and lath-work. None can wonder that Mr. Beckford slept on stormy nights at a lodge some way off. The miracle is that the tower, which was more than 200 feet high, and was often seen to vibrate, stood for a single day. But Fonthill is now about to revive under its present owner, the Marquis of Westminster, who, undeterred by the fate that has attended so many previous structures, is erecting another palace on the spot. Absit omen! Time has marked with vicissitudes of anothe character the Great Great House at Marlborough, built on the site of the old castle of Bishop Roger by Sir Francis Seymour, grandson of the Protector, and brother of the Earl of Hertford, who then owned, and occasionally resided at, Tottenham. In the commencement of the great rebellion, Sir Francis sided with the King, and was raised to the peerage as Baron Seymour of Trowbridge; but his mansion was held for some time by the Parliamentarians under Sir Nevile Poole in 1643, against the King's forces. Afterwards it was restored to Lord Seymour, who, compounding for his delinquencies, resided there peaceably until the Restoration, shortly after which he sumptuously entertained in it Charles II. and his Queen, with the Duke of York, on a progress to the West. When the estates of Savernake passed to the Earls of Aylesbury, Marlborough Castle was still retained by the Seymours, and in the early part of the eighteenth century was the residence of the Countess of Hertford, whose fantastic correspondence with her intimate friend Lady Pomfret is dated from thence. The poetic tastes and friendships of this lady are well known. Mrs. Rowe, Thomson, Dr. Watts, and Alexander Pope, were her occasional guests and frequent correspondents. On her decease the mansion was converted into an inn, which continued to be its destination up to a very recent date. It is now, after much enlargement and alteration, appropriated to the purpose of a college, founded for the education of sons of the clergy, and which under the able management of Dr. Cotton has obtained a wide and well-deserved reputation. We must not linger over this tempting topic, otherwise much might be said of many other Wiltshire houses of no little note. Trafalgar, formerly Standlynch, the gift of a nation to her greatest naval hero; Spye Park, for a time the residence of the witty and profligate Rochester, then of the equally eccentric Bayntons; Amesbury, where dwelt the charming Duchess of Queensbury, Prior's 'Kitty, beautiful and young, and the happy retreat of Gay, who here composed his Beggar's Opera; Erle Stoke, on which the late Mr. Watson Taylor expended a princely fortune; Draycote-Cerne, the ancient seat of the elder branch of the Longs, whose large Wiltshire and Berkshire estates, together with those of the Earls Tylney, were inherited in early life by the unhappy Mrs. Long Wellesley, and conferred upon her a melancholy notoriety some forty years ago; Dinton, the birthplace of Clarendon; Lydiard, the ancient seat of the St. Johns Lords Bolingbroke, Everley, Stourhead, Grittle ton, ton, Weston Birt, Rood Ashton, and many more, which might detain us pleasantly enough. A word must be bestowed on the many treasures of art which Wiltshire possesses. The sculptures and paintings of Wilton House have been already alluded to. Longleat, together with its magnificent Lion-hunts of Rubens and Snyders, contains a rich collection of historical portraits, second only to that of Hampton Court or Windsor. Its neighbour, Stourhead, possesses many admirable specimens of the Italian schools. The pure taste of the owner of Bowood has adorned, without over-crowding, its walls with chef-d'œuvres of the best masters of every age and country, among which it is not easy to say whether modern or ancient art triumphs most, the lovely females and children of Reynolds, Etty, and Newton, or the golden Madonnas and Magdalens of Titian, Luini, and El-Mudo,-the landscapes of Gainsborough, Calcott, Cooke, and Stanfield, or those of Hobbema, Ruysdael, Claude, Wouvermans, and Cuyp. The wonderful Murillo, purchased by the Marquis of Lansdowne at the Erle Stoke sale of Mr. Watson Taylor, is to our mind the most admirable portrait in existence. The Gallery of Wardour Castle is justly celebrated, not only for its paintings, but for other gems of art worthy of the collection of a series of Counts of the Holy Roman Empire. That of Longford Castle is noted for its remarkable series of portraits by Holbein, Velasquez, Titian, Rubens, Giorgone, Mabrise, Zucchero, and Vandyke. Of many first-class pictures, once the pride of Charlton Park, we must say, alas! Fuerunt,' since their mysterious disappearance on the night of the 10th of October, 1856. The thief had planned his villany most coolly. Having come down from London by a late train to the nearest station, he effected an entrance through a cellar-grating into the ground storey of the house, and, making his way to the saloon in which the pictures hung, took them down, and out of their frames, which he hung again upon the walls, packing up the canvases with paper and cord which he had brought with him. He was seen walking back to the station in the early morning with the large square parcel; but from that moment all trace of him was lost, and as yet nothing has been heard of the pictures, nor, from their well-known reputation, is it easy to suppose they could ever find a purchaser, or be offered for sale without discovery. Corsham House, together with the greater portion of the Methuen Gallery, contains many paintings of value collected by the late Mr. John Sandford, the father of the present Lady Methuen. The newlyerected Grittleton House has recently been made the depository of the fine works of art, both in statuary and painting, purchased by the late Mr. Neeld. Vol. 103.-No. 205. K From |