Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1869-04-02
NEWSTEAD AND ITS LORD,
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.

BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
One breezy, fragrant June morning, al
ter a rain-yOu can date anything IN Eng
land, Just after, Just before, or during ram
i set out on my pilgrimage 10 Ne"steau
and UpcknaI from the old town OF Noting
ham, once a royal seat and stronghpld; In
its castle. the Old one, King John, and Rich
ard Calrr de Leon, held court. Iwas the
last scene Of the intrigue between Roger de
Mortimer and Queen Isabellai ihe prototype
of the late sovereign of Spain. Here Rich
ard the Third heard Of the landing at Milford
Haven. From here, he marched to Bosworth
Field, to have that momentous combat with
Richmond and his doubles, we all know SO
weIl-that prolonged and prodigious fight,
up and down the stage, from L. to B.--cut,
thrust, lunge, and parry, clash and clang-
and to die r0val s. game at last. with his
feet to the f6otlights, ana all the galleries.
in a roar.
Here. in 1912, Charles the First planted
his standard, and here, that very night,
high Cromwellian wind blew it down and.
four years later, Charles was brought here
prisoner. 1t seems scarcely to have been
healthy abode for royalty.
=
two friends, young gentleman and lady
Friends, indeed, for they belonged TO a fam
ilv Of English Quakers, of the straitest sect.
They were pleasant and cultivated persons,
but they hardly shared my enthusism for
the ancient kings, feudal lords, stern men of
war, bold outlaws, and unhappy poets, that
make all that region the enchanted ground
Of historic romance and poetry. Quakerism,
.F u hf al Eo- al I'm n
type sits better. | think, on young women
than on Young men. In the fair maiden
with me that day, it was graceful quiet and
serenity-in the youth, gravity, stiffness,
and unnatural repression. In both the drab
seemed to have " struck in, giving &c
thought and feeling a certain cool, neutral
tint
Our way-the old Mansfield road-lay
through an open tract of Sherwood Forest
Robin Hoods ground, and past Fountain
Dale, the abode Of the Jolly Friar Tuck
nine miles, to Newstead Abbey. This wa
founded as far back as ITO by Henry the
Second, and was a friary Of Black Canons
There are in its plantations some gnarly
superannuated yew-trees, more than sever
hundred years old, SO old that they hay,
forgotten it is time to die, and look mor'
of the park-gate stands gigantic oak, one
Of the old forcst-trees. 1t gives one thrill
to think that in Its young days, Robin Hood {
merry men have stretched themselves under
its light shade. drinking and singing songs,
making game Of mobiles and sherltfs, and
roaring over scandals Of the Church, and
the diyerting story Of % The King and the
Miller Of Mansfield - On reflection, | don
think thev could have known the tree at all,
but Richard the Third may have cut r.
ding-whip from it.
At its dissolution as an Abbey, Newstead
was granted to Sir John Byron, whose great
grandson was created peer by Charles the
First, with the title Of Baron Byron, Of Roch-
dale. The Byrons were Royalists, and four
out of seven brothers fell at Marston Moor.
Newstead. after suffering good deal from a
siege, fell into the hands Of the Purltans'
but Charles the Second gave it back to the
Byrons. Tie boy peer, George Gordon
Byron, took possession Of it in lI9o, and was
compelled bv his debts TO sell it in 1915.
The purchaser was Colonel Wildman, an old
school-fellow, and a warm friend Of the poet
--f0rtunately gentleman Of sufficient means
20 put It into the repair It so much needed.
4 large part of the Abbey, including the
chapel, was left the picturesque, ivy-garlan-
ded ruin it had become through years and
wars, while all that portion suited for an
elegant residence was resorted in manner
almost magical, made comfortable, and even
sumptuous.
We entered first on long avenue Of som
bre frs, each side OF which the grounds
had a bleak and barren aspect. |
rec0llect perfectly, however, coming upon a
wide, open space, thiekly overgroWn with
wild fern, which had a peculiarly beautiful
effect, swaying in the wind, like the green
waves Of a shadowed sea. Then we came
upon some pine-trees, then the lake, and
then the lovely old Abbey.
We were shown all through the house,
garden, and plantations by communicative
old house-keeper and by condescending
gardener. In the drawing -room-a noble
apartment, with beautiful appointment
we saw the Phillips portrait Of Byron, con-
fronted by very forid and plethoric full
length Of the Duke Of Sussex, the last Of
George the Third hopeful sons. Mrs. Wild
man was, it was said, a natural daughter Of
the Duke, and SO, one Of the Queens nu-
merous cousins behind the ~ bar sinister.
The Duke spent much time at the Abbey
and 1t was plain to see that here, with th'
servants, at least, the live prince was o
more account than the dead poet. In TIM
room the hOusekeeper also showed us that
sacrilegions practical Joke of Byron-the win
cup made Of the top Of a human skull, polish
ed and silver-mounted and not looking sucl
a terrible goblet after all But what il tn
old monk who once owned it had returned
for his headpiece, some night, when it wa
circling round the board in the wild revels 0
Newstead
There are several beautiful show-rooms il
the Abbey, butmore interesting than these
the chamber Of Byron, kept precisely as h
left it, very simply furnished, with a fe,
prints on the walls.
From the windows, the poet had a view
the home of Mary Chaworth, the 4" Hills {
Annesley, - and Of that particular hill, :" gree
and of mild declivity," which was the seen
of the 4" Dream"
No guest ever lodges in this room, except
brother of Colonel Wildman, who, poo
little chap was Byron's - fag'' at Harrow
- Does Ada Byron (Lady Loyelace) eve
visit at the Abbey2' | ventured to ask c
the house keeper.
Yes, madam was the reply; " sh
came here with Lord LOvelace, soon afte
her marriage Colonel Wildman himsel
handed her from the carriage and led her in
to the hall, saying Welcome to the hous
of your ancestors?' And she, looking round
says: A most desirable place-most desir
able And then-she is strange lady
she turned to her husband, and says Now
if | had married my cousin George, We nigh
have kept this in the family, where it shoul,
be- And then Colonel Wildman he speak
up, and says Madame, you forget that
purchased Newstead before you were born
from your father. | have made it a ittin.
memorial of him, and not even his daughte
could purchase it from me- Then she begg
ed pardon, and laughed it off. never heart
her speak Of her father. She did not seem Il
care for Newstead for his sake
Twas afterward told by lady, who haC
been her governess, that, as a child and /,
young girl, Ada Byron knew absolutely
nothing of her fathers poetry, and very
little Of him She was not taught to hate
his memory, but his name was tacItly avoid
60 oy those around her. Lady Byron, sht
sald, give no charge against the mention o.
hn or his works, but her example wa,
enough. Doubtless, the thought of him wa,
ocverpoweringly painful to her; to speak bui
ms nams was to accuse him, by the agony
that made her pale face rigid. and crepl
along the cold, measured tones of her voice