that you think yourself an hundred miles off and an hundred
years back. The old furniture is so magnificently ancient,
dreary and decayed, that at every step one's spirits sink, and
all my passion for antiquity could not keep them up. Every
minute I expected to see ghosts sweeping by; ghosts I would not
give sixpence to See, Lauderdales, Tollcmaches, and Maitlands.
There is one old brown gallery full of Vandycks and Lelys,
charming miniatures, delightful Wouvermans, and Polenburghs,
china, japan, bronzes, ivory cabinets, and silver dogs, pokers,
bellows, etc. without end. One pair of bellows is of filigree.
In this state of pomp and tatters my nephew intends it shall
remain, and is so religious an observer of the venerable rites
of his house, that because the gates never were opened by his
father but once for the late Lord Granville, you are locked out
and locked in, and after journeying all round the house, as you
do round an old French fortified town, you are at last admitted
through the stable-yard to creep along a dark passage by the
housekeeper's room, and so by a back-door into the great hall.
He seems as much afraid of water as a cat; for though you might
enjoy the Thames from every window of three sides of the house,
you may tumble into it before you guess it is there. In short,
our ancestors had so little idea of taste and beauty, that I
should not have been surprised if they had hung their pictures
with the painted sides to the wall. Think of such a palace
commanding all the reach of Richmond and Twickenham, with a
domain from the foot of Richmond-hill to Kingston-bridge, and
then imagine its being as dismal and prospectless as if it
stood "on Stanmore's wintry wild!" I don't see why a man should
not be divorced from his prospect as well as from his wife, for
not being able to enjoy it. Lady Dysart frets, but it is not