s ornaments in
strong relief) is as fresh as if just painted, and the beautiful cornice
round the four walls of this stately gallery is still preserved, with its
three gilded mouldings, but the seventy-two emblazoned shields that
formed an integral part of the frieze have been ruthlessly torn off. The
roof of the vaulted corridor with its gilded belts is the most perfect of
the series of rooms, and that of the sanctum is beautifully rich; it is
fretted in the most elegant way with long drops, pendants, or hangings
like icicles, at least nine inches deep. Here alas! the hands of vandals
have knocked off the gilded roses and ornaments that were suspended.
These three apartments are painted in oak, and gold is most judiciously
introduced on prominent parts. But the ceiling of the last compartment
is beyond all praise; it gleams as freshly with purple, scarlet, and gold
as if painted yesterday. Five slender columns expand into and support a
gilded reticulation on a dark crimson ground. In the centre of the
ceiling is still hanging the dark crimson cord which formerly supported
the elegant golden lamp I had formerly admired in Lansdown-crescent; it
seemed to have been hastily cut down, and its height from the floor and
its deep colour, the same as the ceiling, has probably prevented its
observation and removal. The southern end of the gallery has been
stripped of its floor, and it was with difficulty, and not without
danger, I got across a beam; and, standing with my back against the brick
wall that has been built up at the end, where were once noble glazed
doors opening into the grand octagon, I surveyed the whole lovely
perspective; the length from this spot is 120 feet. The beautiful
reddish alabaster chimney-piece still remains, but it is split in the
centre, whether from the weight of wall or a fruitless attempt to tear it
out I know not. The recesses, once adorned with the choicest and rarest
books, still retain their sliding shelves, but the whole framework of the
windows has been removed, and they are open to the inclemency of the
weather, or roughly boarded up. The stove, once of polished steel, is
now brown and encrusted with rust as if the iron were 500 years old. It
is impossible for an architect or artist to survey the ruthless and
wanton destruction of this noble wing, unscathed and uninjured but by the
hands of barbarous man, without feelings of the deepest regret and
sorrow. How forcibly do the lines