Hardwicke Hall is situated about six miles from Chesterfield, and the same distance from Mansfield, in the picturesque and beautiful shire of Derby. The name does not occur in Domesday Book: Hardwicke, at the Conquest, formed part of the manor of Steinesby, which was granted to Roger of Poictou; by King John it was transferred to Andrew De Beauchamp; in 1258 it passed to William De Steynesby, whose grandson, John, died possessed of it in 1330. Soon afterwards, the family De Hardwicke were here established, and remained in possession for six generations: their pedigree closes with Elizabeth Hardwicke, the wife of Sir William Cavendish; and Hardwicke, with its princely domains, has continued in the possession of her lineal descendants, through the noble family of Cavendish, to their representative, the owner of the Mansion and Estate, His Grace the Duke of Devonshire and Baron Cavendish of Hardwicke.

Previous to the erection of the present Hall, a still more magnificent structure existed here; but, from vestiges of the ruins which yet remain, its date is not placed at a very remote period from that of the building we describe, which was erected between the years 1590 and 1597, by the lady of Sir William Cavendish, then the relict of the Earl of Shrewsbury.[16] The character of the founder is thus recorded by Lodge:—“She was a woman of a masculine understanding and conduct; proud, furious, selfish, and unfeeling; who lived to a great old age, and died immensely rich, without a friend;” Fuller writes of her as “a woman of undaunted spirit;” while her monument, in All Saints’ Church, Derby, describes her as “beautiful and discreet.” She was the wife of four husbands—but had issue by only one, the founder of the famous family of Cavendish.

Hardwicke has, for a very long period, derived romantic interest from the popular belief that it was one of the prisons of the lovely and persecuted Queen of Scots. It is, however, certain, that although for a time in the custody of the Earl of Shrewsbury, she never was immured at Hardwicke, her prison having been one of the Earl’s “strong castles at Sheffield;” where she passed twelve weary years in “melyncholy and grefe,” in “sickness and despair”—the victim of unceasing suspicion, “in the hopeless monotony of sedentary employment, with an impaired constitution and a restless mind”—treated with so much severity by the Countess as to extort from the more humane Earl, in one of his petitions to the Queen, a complaint against his “wyked and malysious wyfe.”[17]

The House, which has undergone no material change since the time of its erection, according to Lysons, “exhibits a most complete specimen of the domestic architecture which prevailed among the higher ranks during the reign of Queen Elizabeth;” and it remains in its original state, “with little or no alteration.” The Poet Gray, adopting the popular error, pictures it as so primitive in character that “one might think the Scottish Mary was but just walked down into the Park;” and Mrs. Radcliffe, who described the mansion at some length in her “Tour to the Lakes,” (1795,) notes the “proud, yet gentle and melancholy look of the Queen as she slowly passed up the Hall,” and contrasts it with the “somewhat obsequious, yet jealous and vigilant air” of my Lord Keeper Shrewsbury.

The name of the Architect who designed and superintended Hardwicke is unknown; “Gerard Christmas, John Thorpe, and the Smithsons, father and son, who built Wollaton Hall, in the vicinity, present a probable claim to this monument of their professional talents.” It is built of stone, and round the top is a parapet of open work, in which frequently appear the initials of the founder—E. S.—“memorials of the proud Dame’s vanity.” The principal front comprehends two hundred and eight feet in extent.

The structure crowns the summit of a small hill, that commands an extensive view of the adjacent country, and overlooks a valley of vast extent, which combines every component of the best English scenery. The eminence rises somewhat abruptly but very gracefully, and terminates in a terrace, from whence the prospect is inconceivably grand and beautiful. Looking over the tops of magnificently grown oaks and yews, and other forest trees, with which the slopes, immediately beneath, are thickly studded, the eye ranges over a wide-spreading landscape, to which Nature has been abundantly bountiful; and the whole is bounded by the far-famed Peak.

The mansion is of great extent—massive and firm in construction; solemn and stately grandeur is the great characteristic of the time-honoured pile; its general form is square; at each corner is a high tower, square also. The exterior retains all the peculiar features of the age of its erection. The Entrance Hall is large, and fitted up with oak wainscotting and rich old tapestry—said to have been woven from the designs of Rubens. It contains a statue, by Westmacott, of the unhappy Queen whose melancholy history is so intimately associated with that of the founder of Hardwicke. The Minstrel Gallery is still there, recalling the days of its ancient hospitality and festivity. The litho-tint print, from a drawing by Mr. Lake Price, exhibits one of the finest of the apartments—the State-room, or Presence-chamber; the walls are partly of wainscot and partly hung with tapestry—an adornment with which the rooms at Hardwicke are profusely enriched. The cabinets, chairs, and other articles of furniture, are in admirable keeping; and among them is a large table of the time of Elizabeth, curiously inlaid with an odd mixture of heraldic badges, musical instruments, and games. The State-bed shown in the centre of the picture was brought hither from Chatsworth; it is never used, but is kept “for show.” The Picture Gallery extends in length 169 feet; and is filled with family portraits. Scattered about this Gallery are

curious specimens of ancient furniture. Among them is an interesting couch, which is said to have belonged to the old House. It is of plain but elegant design: the cushions being elaborately wrought in silk and gold on velvet, that may almost be said to be falling to pieces with age.

The passages and two principal staircases are broad, massive, and commodious; here, as in all other parts of the mansion, every available space is covered with tapestry, pictures, rich carved work, or subjects in relief. The house may, indeed, be likened to a richly illuminated black-letter history; every wall tells a story, and every piece of furniture suggests one,—all being of a quaint but impressive character, and in happy unison with each other and with the genius of the place. On the whole, perhaps this famous house is, in all parts and points, as deeply interesting a relic of the olden time as can be found in England. It is a treasury of antiquities, where, in a brief hour or two, a rich store of knowledge may be gained of the size, general character, furniture, and appointments of an English mansion of the seventeenth century.

The old Hall, as we have observed, stands very close to that which, for the purpose

of distinction, is styled “the new;” although much of it remains in a tolerably safe condition, it is somewhat perilous to explore the interior. A correct idea may be formed of its present state from the annexed engraving. Some of its windows still contain the old rough glass of diamond shapes set in lead; but, for the most part, they offer free ingress and egress to the winds, and succour to the ivy that twists luxuriantly about the mouldering mullions and broken walls, reaching above the ruins of even the highest summits. The only specimens of its interior decorations now existing, are

subjects in relief over the fire-places, and the most remarkable of these is in a large room on the upper floor. We engrave one of them, taken from a lower room.

The gratitude of all who venerate Antiquity, and enjoy the refreshment derived from ancient Art, is due to his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, who freely permits the visits of those who desire to examine the two structures—the old and the new. Unceasing care and vigilance are exercised to keep them in order, and prevent as far as possible the inroads of Time. This object is not achieved without great expense; expense incurred entirely to give pleasure to others—the thousands by whom the seat of his ancestors is examined every summer. We deeply lament to add, that utterly unworthy persons occasionally obtain access to the apartments—that fellows who richly merit a flogging at the cart’s tail, have defaced many of the decorations by scrawling upon them, not only their own degraded names, but words even more deserving the epithet “infamous.”