THE HOUSE OF CHANDOS. [From the Times, August 14.]

New Zealand Spectator and Cook's Strait Guardian, Volume V, Issue 359, 10 January 1849, Page 4

THE HOUSE OF CHANDOS. [From the Times, August 14.]

Duting the past week the British public has been admitted to a spectacle of a painfully interesting and gravely historical import. One of the most splendid abodes of our almost regal aristocracy has thrown open its portals to an endless succession of visitors, who from morning to night have flowed in an uninterrupted stream from room to room, and floor to floor — not to enjoy the hospitality of the lord, or to congratulate him on his countless treasures of art, but to see an ancient family ruined, their palace marked for destruction, and its contents scattered to the four winds of heaven. We are only saying what is notorious and what therefore it is neither a novelty nor a cruelty to repeat, that the Most Noble and Puissant Prince, his Grace the Duke of Buckingham and Chandos, is at this moment an absolutely ruined and destitute man. Our advertising columns have introduced to the public the long list of estates, properties, and interests, which are no longer his, and will not revert to his heirs. The last crash of this mighty ruin is that which now sounds. Stowe is no more. This morning the tumultuous invasion of sight-seers will once again be endured, and to-morrow the auctioneer will begin his work. As every thoughtful spectator has spoken to the peculiar and most lamentable character of the scene, one may be permitted to dwell for awhile upon circumstances of such rare occurrence and indelible recollection. Under the lofty arch which crowns the long avenue from Buckingham, and opens the first view of the magnificent Palladian facade, has lately passed a daily cavalcade which, except in its utter absence of style, might remind one of the road to Epsom on a Derby day. Barouches, flies, stage-doaches, "busses" pressed from the metropolitan service, and every gradation of " trap" down to the carrier's cart Tiastily emptied of groceries, dragged to Wolverton, and filled with the unfortunate holders of return tickets to town, constituted a dreary antithesis to the cortege which so lately brought royalty to Stowe, An elaborately circuitous road conducted the impatient visitors to the park front, before which, in the vast amphitheatre formed by its side colonnades, so often the scene of rural festivities, the enemy encamped. One might imagine a great county picnic had suddenly entered at Stowe. Even stalls were there under the branch of a noble beech and a pair of scales on which venison was weighed. An advertisement posted on the front door particularised the very moderate prices at which a buck, a half, or a quarter might be obtained. In the distance were fallen trees, timber waggons, and extempore sawpits. The enormous edifice was a human hive. Every window showed the crowd within passing to and fro. But once admitted — ; once standing under the Pantheon-like vault of the central saloon, and glancing right and left at the endless vistas of gorgeous apartments, then one indeed realised the sacrilege that was going on. Every scholar must have thought of the scene related by. iEneas, when the Greeks had burst open the gates of Priam's palace, and when the splendid interior, the spacious halls, and the sacred haunts of an ancient dynasty were presented to the eyes ,of the furious assailants. The house was well set out for the distinguished visitors^ Neither Louis XVIII., rior the Duke of Orleans, nor Queen Victoria, rio'r any of the great ones of the earth, whose visits are recorded with pillars and with trees planted by their own hands, saw Stowe so nobly arrayed as the British' public have seen it this week. The bride was dressed for the altar, the victim for the sacrifice. No thrifty coverings, no ghostly brown holland, no neat patterned chintzes were there. King Mob had it all of the best, — the richest damask furniture and the newest state hangings ; only, as that personage rode literally roughshod through the palace, and brought with him cartloads of gravel, there was just an attempt

to save the carpets from excessive trituration, la the state dining-room were set out 60,000 ounces of gold and silver plate ; — one was involuntarily reminded of the weight, for the scales were at work there also, and men were weighing and noting down lot after lot. On a table 20 yards long and on a dozen sideboards stood forests of vases, candelabra, epergnes, groups, goblets, tankards, and every other form and variety of plate, from the elaborate designs of Italian artists to the simple elegance of the old English school, and the pretentious richness of the last generation. Among fifty other pieces of historic value, the gifts of, Royal personages and distinguished men,|Btood a vase, made from snuff-boxes, presented by the cities and corporations in Ireland in 1779, the mace of the old corporation of Buckingham, purchased by the Buckingham Conservatives, and presented to the duke as an everlasting possession ; and the Chandos Testimonial, for which the gentry and yeomanry of the country lately subscribed, we believe £1500. During the whole week this testimonial has been surrounded by a crowd of agriculturists, the very originals of the figures thereon represented, telling of the guineas they had contributed to the ill-fated fabric, but avowing with unwearied gratitude, worthy of a safer, if not a better cause, that they would gladly give the money over again. In all the other rooms it was the same. " Put thy house in order for thou shalt surely die." Caesar died with grace. The obsequies of Stowe have been marshalled with befitting pomp. On what treasures of art will the sun set this day never to rise again on a similar airay within those walls ! The quantity is beyond conception, and if the taste is not always the most refined, it is because the vastness of the accumulation and the accidents of its history forbade a more fastidious rule. The Duke of Buckingham is the representative, not of one, but of many families. It is a mighty wreck of ages that has been accumulated in this place, swollen indeed, and somewhat overwhelmed, by recent additions, but still full of historical, national, and poetical associations. The galleries of family portraits, and collections of family memorials, seem to connect all the great achievements of modern Europe with the names of Chandos, Temple, Cobham, Nugent, and Grenville. But beyond the somewhat extensive circle of family affection, the original portraits of famous men aad women here assembled are of the greatest interest and value. Here, too, is the victor's portion in the spoil of celebrated seiges, the memento of historical friendships, and the favourite gem of Royalty or beauty. In the Manuscript-room is the most extensive and valuable collection of Irish documents anywhere to be found. For the pictures, marbles, bronzes, antiques, articles of verlu, curiosities, china, glass, and wines, we leave them to the auctioneer, and his catalogue of 5,000 items. It is not our purpose to speak of that which money has collected, and may collect again. Such things are only scattered for a fresh reunion elsewhere under new and more favourable auspices. But the heirlooms of many great families, the records of many great events, 'and the memorials of many great persons, all spontaneously collected into one great whole, constitute a singular and most significant fact, the obliteration of which we can only compare to the overthrow of a nation or a throne. And everything is to be sold. The fatal ticket is everywhere seen. The portrait of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, the first founder of the family, by Holbein, is now lot 51, in the 21st day's sale. That every other ancestor should go to the hammer, whether by Van Dyk, or Lely, or Kneller, or Gainsborough, or Reynolds, follows of course. But there is one item of which no preparation can remove the shock. The Chandos family is descended from Frances Brandon, eldest daughter^ of the above Charles Brandon, by Mary, daughter of Henry VII., and Queen Dowager of France. Some Time since certaiu savages or dilettanti at Bury exhumed that Mary Brandon from her grave, and took from her head a lock of silken hair, which thus constitutes a visible link between the present Duke of Buckingham and the throne of these realms, to which lie has a reversionary claim.] That lock of silken' hair, inits glass' case, is now to be sold to the. highest bidder. "What can we say' more to^show the extent of the devastation ! After 'this it . is idle to mention that the Temple of Friendship is rifled of its illustrious tenants, and they are all to be sold. We repeat that everything goes. In two months' time there will not remain in that vast house one pewter spoon, one cracked cup, or spoutless teapot, to give a last vestige of hospitality to the last vestige of the ducal interest ia^Buckinghamshire. The subject of one of the pictures now on the walls is too near akin' to" sre reality which surrounds it not to force itself on the memory. Hezekiah's vain glory prompted him to show his'treasures to an insidious embassy from

Babylon. " All the things that are in my house," he said in answer to the prophet's inquiry, ** have they seen. - There is nothing among my treasures which I haye not showed them." The reply was equally emphatic, — " Behold ! the day is come, that all that is in thine house, and that which thy fathers have laid up in store unto this day, shall be carried into Babylon. Nothing shall be left." It is a most deplorable, and 'we must now add a most disgraceful event. On this point the truth shall bes poken. These columns have spare_d neither people nor prince. We have recently had to pronounce the judgment of public opinion, and to call for the vengeance of the laws upon the rash men who have perverted the first gushes of youthful genius and the rude instincts of popular freedom to an impious rebellion. We have been forced to do so, and we have done so not without a pang. Should we deal fairly if we spared the destroyer of his house, the man whose reckless course has thrown to the ground a pillar of the state, and struck a heavy blow at the whole order to which he -unfortunately belongs?. The public opinion of this country respects the House of Lords, but not a degenerate aristocracy. It is apt to canvass and to censure noble names, because it measures their ill deeds with their great responsibility. The Duke of Buckingham has filled all minds with the painful presage of a wider ruin. Such events speak in these days. When dynasties are falling around, and aristocracies have crumbled into dust, disgrace acquires the force of injury, and personal ruin is a public treason. For an event of peace we, have known nothing more serious and lamentable. This has not been in war or revolution. It is not a pillage by force of arms or revolutionary dogmas. In the midst of fertile lands and an industrious people, in the heart of a country where it is thought virtuous to work, to save, and to thrive, a man of the highest rank, and of a property not unequal to his title, has flung all away by extravagance and folly, and reduced his honours to the tinsel of a pauper and the baubles of a fool. 'Were it only weakness, that might ask our contempt. But there is more than weakness here. It is notorious that the Duke, by the use of a passionate and overpowering persuasion, has induced his amiable son, now in his twenty-fifth year, to cut off the entail of all the property in which his Grace was interested. If the ruinous compliance' was yielded to representations which subsequently proved to be incorrect, — if the Duke urged the step only as a formal act, which he would soon set right by re-settling the estates, we will gladly concede to him the excuse of utter ignorance or frenzied desperation. Let it be that he did not know what he was about. The world, however, will view the act as a whole. The world has a certain opinion of the sou who ruins his father, and it will not have a more, favourable opinion of the father who has ruined his son, or rather both his children. This not the place to discuss the general question of entail, or to enquire whether public benefits may not spring from a private ruin. That may or may not be; but it is beyond our present thoughts. A particular act, the act of a public man, an hereditary ruler, and the conservator of a noble house, is what weare now called upon to review. The Duke of Buckingham has persuaded his son to sign away his birthright, and to divide it among creditors who had no sort of claim upon the son's reversion, whatever they might have upon the father's interest. There are doubtless circumstances in which it is reasonable that the son should cut off an entail. In the present case there is neither reason nor excuse. A ducal house is overthrown to atone for one man's wilful folly, and to give expensive tradesmen and extortionate money-lenders better security than they contemplated when first they sold their ] goods and lent their money. I