ing in the centre, then, and looking first on a level with our sight, we see before us, supposing our back to be turned towards the great Western entrance, a lofty arched vestibule and portal (20 and 21) opening into a grand state apartment (22), all that we can discover of which is an immense mirror reflecting the external scenery presented to it through the opposite entrance from the grounds. Turning to the right, through a similar vestibule (16) we look down a superb oak gallery (74) with a rich stone ceiling covered with fan-shaped tracery, and terminating in a gothic oriel window of three compartments. On the left again, through a corresponding arch and vestibule, (31) we discover, first a long gallery (32) somewhat similar to the last named, except that the ceiling is flat, and of brown oak richly carved and ornamented in continuation of this, ascending one step, is a vaulted corridor (33) dimly lighted by rich painted windows and the ribs of the vaulting riehly gilded; in continuation, a smaller apartment called the sanctuary (34), rising another step, hung with crimson satin damask, with a superb fan-shaped and gilded ceiling, and dimly lighted by pierced gothic doors lined with crimson cloth; and last of all, rising another step, the perspective is terminated by a still smaller apartment called the Oratory (35), hung also with crimson satin damask, the mouldings richly gilded, and the ceiling being still more superbly worked than either of the preceding. This apartment consists of five sides of an octagon, and is finished, in the centre compartment, by a large mirror, which repeats the whole opposing scene as far as the 'oriel window which terminates the other long gallery.

From the centre of the Saloon, where we are now standing, the detail of these apartments cannot be distinguished quite so plainly as would appear by this description: but they have been brought a little forward here, and just looked into, in order that we may avoid passing through them again in performing our regular routine. We have now seen three points of this view. The fourth and last, which presents itself on turning to the West, is infinitely finer than either of the preceding, and is perhaps quite unrivalled by any thing else of the kind that can be seen. Instead of looking along a level, as in the preceding views, the eye, immediately on reaching the extremity of the octagon, or saloon, descends down a spacious staircase, which terminates in a grand entrance-hall, built in the old baronial style (19); which hall opens on the great western Avenue, or lawn, by a pair of arched gothic doors, more than thirty feet in height. Immediately over this great arched doorway is an organ-gallery; over that a high narrow painted window; and then the pointed roof shoots upward to a height of eighty feet, at once supported and ornamented by massive beams of dark. brown oak, richly carved and fretted. The effect of the view through this door, up what is called the Great Western Avenue, is highly characteristic and impressive; and it is imagined in fine taste-blending together, as it does, the outer domain with the inner, and forming them into one stately and magnificent whole. This avenue consists of a smooth-cut lawn, extending about half a mile, and about the width of the great saloon itself-bounded on either side by low shrubs, which jut into it somewhat irregularly, so as to take away any stiffness and formality, yet of sufficient uniformity to preserve the general unity of effect. Immediately behind, or rather out of these shrubs, rises a

plantation, consisting chiefly of firs and larches, which have not yet attained a sufficient height to give them a character of grandeur; but, from the spot we are now situated on, they produce all the required effect.

Having gazed our fill at the magnificent coup-d'ail which presents itself from the centre of this saloon, we must now proceed in our routine. We quitted it at number 17; or rather we have been remaining there all this while, and only making excursions, with our eye, into the adjoining apartments. Passing on, then, through the eastern vestibule and portal (leaving 18 and 19 behind us-as we have looked down them in our last coup-d'ail), we enter the Great Dining-room (22), the first of the grand state-apartments. This is of great height, and is hung and carpeted with crimson; and the ceiling is of solid square oak beams, finished with gilded carving at the extremity of each beam. And it is here that we first find ourselves among the ornamental riches of this extraordinary place. Pictures, cabinets, vases, candelabras, and curious objects of various kinds, here crowd upon us in a profusion which so entirely distracts the attention, that we will not pretend to concern ourselves with them at all; for, however rare and valuable many of them may be, they are unquestionably much too numerous to produce any distinct and satisfactory effect; and they are, in fact, altogether unadapted to the situation in which we find them. Once for all, then, we will here take leave of the mere curiosities of Fonthill Abbey, as in no way connected with that permanent and characteristic part of it, which it is alone worth while for us to endeavour to fix on the visitor's memory: confessing our belief, however, before we finally dismiss them, that they offer to the taste (or want of taste-whichever it may be) which hungers after such matters, the most gorgeous and costly assemblage of the kind that was ever collected together under one roof, in this portion of the globe at least; and that they go near to give one a glimmering and indistinct notion of the treasures of the preadamite sultans themselves *! The pictures, however, we would not willingly pass over so lightly, as there are many in this collection which deserve the utmost attention and admiration that can be bestowed upon them. But we must restrain ourselves altogether on this point for the present; or the resolution we had formed, of not encroaching on more than double our allotted limits, will be of no avail; to say nothing of such encroachment including another, which we are still less disposed to make, on the department of our coadjutor, the author of " British Galleries of Art."

From the great dining-room we pass into the Crimson Drawing-room (23) another noble apartment-square, lofty, with a ceiling of solid beams, and a "great gazing window," occupying nearly the whole side on which it is placed. This is followed by another drawing-room (24), of similar character, but still larger in its dimensions, and more rich in its architectural decorations, as well as those appertaining to art and virtû. This apartment is hung with blue satin damask, and is probably the first time this kind of hanging has been used as a ground for the exhibition of pictures. The effect, however, is extremely good. The unrivalled cabinets, tables, chandeliers, &c. which enrich

* Vide Vathek.

this and the last room, may be glanced at as we pass on, but must not be attended to in detail.

Passing out of this grand suite of rooms, through what is called Becket's Passage (from the great painted window at the extremity of it representing Thomas à Becket), we again find ourselves among the small cabinet apartments; and here, to say the truth, we feel ourselves more at home, and would more willingly pause and reflect, than in the more imposing and gorgeous portions of this vast labyrinth--for such the visitor will suppose that it has the air of being, when we tell him that he has not yet passed through one-third of the different parts enumerated in the routine which we are following. But he need not be alarmed at this information; as we will contrive to hurry him through what remains, in a manner that shall not fatigue him, in order that we may have a little time left, before our day" closes, to look at the external

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objects which appertain to this spot.

Pausing, then, for a moment, in the little octagon cabinet (26),— which is another of those exquisite little apartments that we have noticed before, it is impossible to avoid looking at a few of the gems of art which it contains--for we shall find nothing like them in any other part of our search. But we must only look at, not describe them; for if we once begin to do that, adieu to all hope of completing our circle to-day.

Quitting this lovely little retreat, we pass on through the Northern Passage (27), which contains a fine bronze statue of the Venus de' Medici, the size of life; and, peeping into the Crimson Breakfast Parlour (28) as we pass by, continue our route through (29) the Porcelain Room--which is only another name for a mere china-shop. This room is in by far the worst taste of any in the Abbey, and deserves all the censure that the most carping ritic can bestow upon it-as being altogether out of keeping with any other part of the building. Passing through, and forgetting it as quickly as we can, we find ourselves again in the long grand gallery noticed in our coup-d'ail from the centre of the octagon. Passing over, then, this noble suite of apartments, from number 30, to number 35, we continue our route, by turning up a narrow staircase (36), which passes out of the sanctuary on the left, and leads to the upper Lancaster room (37). This is a billiard-room, and is hung with many pictures. It is followed by the State Bedroom (38) a fine and characteristic apartment, containing a superb bed of crimson damask, with solid ebony pillars and framework, covered with a quilt of the richest Brussels lace. As our fair companions take an interest in these matters, it may be well to let them know, that if rarity alone deserves their admiration, they cannot bestow too much upon this same coverlid; for they may search all the royal palaces in Europe, and not find another of the kind. There are various other articles in the economy of this rich apartment which will attract and deserve their attention; but we must leave it hastily, and pass on through the ante-room (39), and the little yaulted gallery adjoining (40), into what is called the Tribune Room (41.) Here we must stop a moment to admire the stupendous and truly impressive view from this room, which opens on to the great saloon, in the form of a parapet or tribune. The view is, above, to the top of the great tower; around, to the galleries and vestibules that occupy this part in correspondence

with the room in which we are standing, and between each compartment of which is an immense painted window; and below, to the great Saloon itself, where the gorgeous shadows from those windows are falling; and, across these, down the stairs of the Great Hall, and through the lofty arched door-way, on to the great western avenue and lawn. In the above we may confidently reckon on looking upon a view altogether unique in its way; and not only so, but conceived in admirable taste, and executed in a manner as nearly as possible faultless, and producing an effect on the spectator which cannot be experienced without emotions of the most rare and valuable kind.

We will now pass on again, and, taking but a glance, as we go, at the series of apartments, &c. from number 41 to number 47-descend the winding staircase of the Lancaster turret, and passing across the grand saloon, arrive at a lobby (48) which leads us to the great staircase of the tower (49). This, though it is rather tiresome work, and will scarcely repay us for our trouble, we must hastily ascend, or we shall be accused of not having seen the chief lion of the place. Mounting, then, a tedious number of stairs-which are a little relieved by the looks-out that we now and then get through the loop-hole windows that give them light-we arrive, at last, at a sort of gallery, or arcade, which runs round the upper part of the great tower, and communicates with four small apartments, called Nunneries, which fill as many of its sides. These occupy the numbers from 50 to 57. Having passed through these, in which there is little to admire except the view on to the great saloon below, we again ascend the great staircase, till we reach an open platform (58). As we have mounted thus far, we may as well complete our ascension, from this platform, up through the interior of the central tower (59) and the Gazebo, or star-chamber, (60) to the Tower Gallery itself-which is the highest point to which there is any regular means of ascent. Here we stand, then, on the summit of this far-famed tower, overlooking a spot which, even within the memory of most of us, was a barren heath-an interminable extent of bare down, with scarcely a tree upon it; and which now, by the means of one man, and under the inspection of one superintending assistant, has become what we now see it--a magnificent domain, including nearly all the natural beauties that can belong to a spot of the kind, and crowned by a building of unrivalled extent and grandeur.

But it is not for Ciceroni to indulge (themselves) in reflections upon what they see; otherwise here would be a fine opportunity for so doing. Leaving this, then, till we have cast off our present character-(which we must be allowed to do so soon as we have shewn our company fairly through the labyrinthine mazes of this extraordinary building)we will pass on again, first commending to their attention the view that presents itself from this tower; chiefly on account of its enabling them to glance, as on a map, at the plan which has been pursued in arranging the grounds within the inner circle of the domain: for the surrounding country presents nothing peculiarly entitled to notice, or that may not be equalled, if not surpassed, by most other views taken from an equal height.

Descending now the Grand Staircase (which, by the way, is any thing rather than grand, except as compared with the exceedingly confined ones which lead to every other department of the building,

with the undernamed exception) we reach, at the foot of it, the great hall; and again descending the staircase of that, which really is a fine one, and correspondent with its situation, we turn to the left at the foot; and crossing the western cloisters (62),-leaving on the left a little court-yard with a small and insignificant fountain in the centre,-we once more, by passing up a narrow staircase leading from the oak dining-parlour, find ourselves entering upon a new suite of internal apartments, as richly arrayed as those which we have already passed through, and as gorgeously ornamented in the way of pictures, cabinets, curiosities, and costly articles of virtû of every denomination. The first of these is called the Western Yellow Drawing-room (72), which is hung with yellow damask, and gilt mouldings; and fitted up in parts with gothic oak bookcases, carved and arranged in admirable taste. This room also contains the grand show-piece of the place, in the shape of an enormous ebony cabinet, occupying nearly the whole side of the apartment, and reaching to the ceiling; and which is filled with a nondescript and nameless variety of what, for lack of a better generic title, we are obliged to call, in the language of catalogue-makers, "articles of virtû," but which are, generally speaking, in as vicious a (want of) taste as any thing can well be; being costly merely in virtue of their rarity and remoteness from all pretensions to either beauty or utility: using the term "beauty" to signify a quality founded in some natural principle of taste; and "utility," as that which is, or may be made, in some way or other, subservient to our mental wants and propensities;-in which sense, indeed, the one quality may be said in some degree to merge in the other; since beauty is, in this view of it, the most useful thing in the world.

Passing out of this gorgeous apartment, through a little ante-room (64), we find ourselves in another of those sweet little retreats which are the exclusive boast of this spot, and which in some sort redeem the splendours by which they are surrounded, by permitting the latter to be used as contrasts to them. But there is no feeling the rich repose and still sweetness of this and similar apartments, unless we could visit them alone; so, glancing round for a moment at the really beautiful works of art which this little cell contains, and looking out upon the flower-crowned terrace on which it opens (71), and, through the loophole windows which light it, upon the rich prospect below, we will pass through another yellow drawing-room (73) nearly similar to the one above-named, and across the gallery noticed in our first coup-d'œil, and finally close our peregrination by resting our somewhat wearied forms for there is no denying that, by this time, they are soon one of the couches which stand before the mysterious curtains that fill the recesses of the great Saloon.

Thus, gentle reader,-for "gentle" we will evermore proclaim you, if you have borne with us, pleased and patiently, all through this long, and (which is not our fault) somewhat monotonous range of splendours-thus have we led you through every open apartment of a building which is, with all its faults, calculated to excite a deeper interest in the spectator than any other of the kind that we could any where point out: and we have endeavoured to indicate to you chiefly the merits of what we have met with. The defects (as we hinted in the outset of our examination) we are ready to expatiate on at equal length, on the con