LETTER FROM CHARLES SKINNER MATTHEWS, ESQ.  TO MISS I.M.

“London, May 22. 1809.

“My dear ——­,

“I must begin with giving you a few particulars of the singular place which I have lately quitted.

“Newstead Abbey is situate 136 miles from London,—­four on this side Mansfield.  It is so fine a piece of antiquity, that I should think there must be a description, and, perhaps, a picture of it in Grose.  The ancestors of its present owner came into possession of it at the time of the dissolution of the monasteries,—­but the building itself is of a much earlier date.  Though sadly fallen to decay, it is still completely an abbey, and most part of it is still standing in the same state as when it was first built.  There are two tiers of cloisters, with a variety of cells and rooms about them, which, though not inhabited, nor in an inhabitable state, might easily be made so; and many of the original rooms, amongst which is a fine stone hall, are still in use.  Of the abbey church only one end remains; and the old kitchen, with a long range of apartments, is reduced to a heap of rubbish.  Leading from the abbey to the modern part of the habitation is a noble room seventy feet in length, and twenty-three in breadth; but every part of the house displays neglect and decay, save those which the present Lord has lately fitted up.

“The house and gardens are entirely surrounded by a wall with battlements.  In front is a large lake, bordered here and there with castellated buildings, the chief of which stands on an eminence at the further extremity of it.  Fancy all this surrounded with bleak and barren hills, with scarce a tree to be seen for miles, except a solitary clump or two, and you will have some idea of Newstead.  For the late Lord being at enmity with his son, to whom the estate was secured by entail, resolved, out of spite to the same, that the estate should descend to him in as miserable a plight as he could possibly reduce it to; for which cause, he took no care of the mansion, and fell to lopping of every tree he could lay his hands on, so furiously, that he reduced immense tracts of woodland country to the desolate state I have just described.  However, his son died before him, so that all his rage was thrown away.

“So much for the place, concerning which I have thrown together these few particulars, meaning my account to be, like the place itself, without any order or connection.  But if the place itself appear rather strange to you, the ways of the inhabitants will not appear much less so.  Ascend, then, with me the hall steps, that I may introduce you to my Lord and his visitants.  But have a care how you proceed; be mindful to go there in broad daylight, and with your eyes about you.  For, should you make any blunder,—­should you go to the right of the hall steps, you are laid hold of by a bear; and should you go to the left, your case is still worse, for you run full against a wolf!—­Nor, when you have attained the door, is your danger over; for the hall being decayed, and therefore standing in need of repair, a bevy of inmates are very probably banging at one end of it with their pistols; so that if you enter without giving loud notice of your approach, you have only escaped the wolf and the bear to expire by the pistol-shots of the merry monks of Newstead.