CLANDESTINE ARCHITECTURAL STUDIES.—A VISIT TO THE MARQUIS OF
WESTMINSTER’S STUD.—STABLE MATTERS.
_Monday, June 3d._
Early in the morning we visited the old church of St. John’s, and
afterwards several curious places, relics of Romans, Saxons, and
Normans, in the suburbs—after all, nothing so interesting to me as
the commonest relics of Englishmen but two or three centuries old. As
we returned through the town at seven, the early risers seemed to be
just getting up. Passing the cathedral as the bell tolled for morning
prayer, we turned in. There are services every day at 7, 11, and 3
o’clock. The service was performed in the Lady Chapel, which we did not
enter. The attendance must have been rather meagre, as we saw no one
going to it but two ladies with an old man-servant. We remained some
time hunting on tip-toe for traces of the _Norman transition_ in the
architecture, and found we had had already practice enough to readily
detect it in various parts. Stealing softly into the choir, from which
the Lady Chapel opens, we examined the bishop’s throne. It is adorned
with many figures of saints and angels, kings and queens, and having
been once broken to pieces, in the repairs upon it the old heads were
generally put on young shoulders, and _vice versa_, producing in
some instances a very ludicrous effect, particularly where the men’s
heads, beards and all, are set on female bodies. We then got out into
the _cloisters_, and from them into the chapter-house, in which the
heavy-groined arches, simple, and without the slightest ornament, have
a grand effect. The date is about 1190. We saw here some very strongly
_marked_ faces which in stone represent certain Norman abbots whose
graves were under us.
[Sidenote: _ELECTION ROWS.—AMERICAN BOOKS._]
Without the cathedral yard, the ruins of the old abbey appear
frequently among the houses, the old black oak timber and brick work
of the time of Cromwell, mingling picturesquely with the water-worn
carvings of the older, old masonry. This morning we saw a stout, round,
old Saxon arch giving protection to a fire-engine, which brought to
mind the improbability of the present race of New-Yorkers sending
down to posterity such memorials of itself. Well, it will send better
perhaps, and more lasting than in stones—or stocks.
On the town-hall is a large statue, said to be of Queen Anne, but so
battered and chipped, that it might stand for any body else, in a
long dress. The hands and nose, and all the regalia are knocked off.
And how, do you suppose? By the _super_-sovereign people in election
demonstrations. Thank God, we may yet boast, that in our thoroughly
democratic elections, where the whole national policy is turning, and
the most important private and local interests are at issue, we leave
no such memorials of our time. (I beg pardon of the “bloody Sixth.”)
Going into a book-shop for a direction, we saw Emerson’s
“Representative Men,” and Irving’s “Sketch-Book,” on the counter, with
newspapers and railway guides, and the proprietor told us he had sold a
great many of them.
We passed through a crockery shop to see a Roman bath, which had been
discovered in excavating a cellar in the rear of it. Such things are
being every year brought to light.
After breakfast we once more took our knapsacks, and left Chester by
the foot-path on the bank of the Dee.
[Sidenote: _THE ETON STUD._]
The Marquis of Westminster owns some of the finest horses in the
kingdom; in passing through Eccleston, we asked a man if he could
direct us where we could see some of them. He informed us that he was
head groom of the stud to the marquis, and he would take pleasure in
showing it to us. He took us first to _the paddocks_, which are fields
of from two to five acres, enclosed by stone walls, ten feet high, some
of them with sheds and stables attached, and some without. In these
were thirty or forty of the highest bred, and most valuable mares and
fillies in the world. Unfortunately I am not a horse-_man_, and cannot
attempt to describe them particularly. It needed but a glance, however,
to show us that they were almost any of them far the most beautiful
animals we had ever seen. The groom, whose name is Nutting, and whose
acquaintance I recommend every traveller this way to endeavour to
make, was exceedingly obliging, not only taking us into every paddock
and stable, and giving us an account of the pedigree, history, and
performances of every horse, but calling our attention to the _points_,
all the peculiarities of form which distinguished each individual. It
was evident his heart was in his business, and that his regard was
appreciated, for as soon as he unlocked the gate, and showed himself
within the enclosure, some of the older mares would trot up to be
caressed with the most animated, intelligent, and gratified expression.
The most celebrated among them was _Bee’s-wing_. She is seventeen years
old, and very large, but most perfect in form; I should think better
than her daughter, _Queen-Bee_, who is lighter and more delicate. The
extraordinary beauty of “Ghuznee” and “Crucifix,” both distinguished
on the turf, was also obvious. These, I think, do not belong to the
marquis. In one of the paddocks were a number of foals, pretty, agile,
fawn-like creatures. They came around us dancing and capering, catching
our knapsacks with their teeth, then springing off, and coming back
again, like dogs at play. The mares, fillies, and colts were all of
dark bay colour, but one, which was dark iron-grey, nearly black.
Just as we left the colts, a great cart-horse, belonging to the
marquis, was passing on the road. The contrast was wonderful. He was
_seventeen hands and one inch_ high (within a trifle, six feet), and
putting both my thumbs to the smallest part of his leg, I could not
make my fingers meet around it.
From the paddocks we went to the stables to see the stallions.
They were all loose boxes (no stalls), thirteen feet by sixteen,
some with rack and manger across the side, some with the same in a
corner. Touchstone is a magnificent creature, beyond conception. It
is impossible to imagine such high _condition_, indicated not less
in the happy and spirited expression and action, than in the bright,
smooth, supple, and elastic _feel_ of his skin. I never saw any thing
to equal it in America; and it was nearly as remarkable in the mares.
Five thousand guineas (over $25,000) have been offered and refused
for Touchstone.[16] _Springy-Jack_ is a younger stallion; by Nutting
esteemed even higher than Touchstone. Nothing in the world of animal
life can be finer than the muscular development of his neck. Touchstone
is a little coarse in the withers. They were intending to put him in
pasture the next week, and in preparation for it, he had some fresh
grass mixed with hay to eat. He stood in a deep bed of straw, and was
not curried—groomed merely with a cloth, yet he was so clean, that it
would not have soiled a white linen handkerchief to have been rubbed
upon him.
[16] Mares are sent here from all parts of the kingdom, to be served by
_Touchstone_, perhaps the most esteemed stock-getter in England. He is
allowed forty in a year, and the charge is $160 to $200, and $2.25 a
week for pasture.
In the granary we saw some very plump and bright Scotch oats. They
were bought for 42 lbs. to the bushel, but would overweigh that. The
common feed was oat and bean meal mixed with cut hay. The hay was cut
very fine (not more than ⅛ inch lengths) by a hand machine. I believe,
cut as it usually is by our machines (½ inch to 1 inch), it is more
thoroughly digested. I use Sinclair’s, of Baltimore, which is intended
for corn-stalks, driven by horse-power, and cuts hay and straw from one
to three inches, which I prefer to the finer.[17] The machine here cost
£6 ($30), and was in no way superior, that I could see, to Ruggles’, of
Boston, which is sold at half that price.
[17] I do not wish to recommend this machine for hay and straw, which
it does not cut as rapidly as some others, but for stalks it cannot be
surpassed—cutting and _splitting_ them in small dice.
The farm buildings were not fine or in good order, manure wasting, old
carts and broken implements thrown carelessly about, and nothing neat.
Nor were the cattle remarkable—most of them below the average that we
have seen on the road-side. It is evident the marquis is more of a
horse-jockey than a farmer.
The groom’s house, which we entered, was very neat and handsomely built
of stone. All the cottages hereabout are floored with tiles, nine
inches square. They vary in colour, but are most commonly light brown.
Nutting showed us a cow of his own, which I took to be a direct cross
of Devon and Ayrshire, and which had as fine points for a milker as I
ever saw in any thing. She was very large, red and white, and a good
feeler. He assured us she was giving now on pasture feed thirty-two
quarts a day.
[Sidenote: _DUTCH BARNS.—A POLITE GROOM._]
The hay was partly stored under slate roofs, supported by four
strong stone columns, the sides open. This plan differs from the hay
_barracks_, common where the Dutch settled in America, in which the
roof, thatched or boarded, is attached to posts in such a way that it
can be easily set up or down, and adjusted to the quantity of hay under
it. These erections are here called Dutch barns. Nutting thought hay
was preserved in them better than in any way he knew, and this has been
my opinion of that from our _barracks_. Close barns he particularly
objected to. Probably hay suffers more in them here than it does in
America.
After showing us all about the farmery, he walked on with us to a shady
pasture by the river side, where was a herd of fine mares. We sat here
under an old elm for some time, looking at them as they clustered
around us, and talking with him about the agriculture of the district.
He was so easily good-natured, and conversed so freely, asking as
well as answering questions, that we were greatly puzzled to tell
whether he expected a fee, or would be offended by our offering it. At
length, when he was about to leave, we frankly stated our difficulty,
explaining that we were foreigners, and not familiar with the English
customs on such occasions. He answered pleasantly, that he was always
glad of a chance to converse with gentlemen on such subjects as we
appeared to be interested in; if they liked to give him something he
did not refuse it, but he did not wish any thing from us. We assured
him that we were much indebted to him, and begged that he would not
make an exception of us, handing him a half crown, which he dropped
into his pocket without looking at it or thanking us, but politely
replying that he considered himself fortunate in having met us. He then
said he would walk on a little further to direct us on a path much
pleasanter than the regular travel, and from which we might see one
of the best dairy farms in the country, with an excellent herd of one
hundred and fifty cows. The path would run through the park, and was
not public, but if we would mention his name at the lodges they would
let us pass.
We soon came in sight of the cows. They were large, half-bred
Ayrshires, which seem to be the favourite dairy stock throughout the
country. Pure-bred stock of any breed were not in favour, but the
Ayrshire blood was most valued.