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KINGSTON SEYMOUR MANOR-HOUSE, CO. SOMERset.
(With a Plate.)

THIS interesting old mansion is of the age of Edward the Fourth, whose favourite badge, the rose-en-soleil, appears on the west gable. The manor was divided; but the resident lord, to whom the erection of the house may be ascribed, appears to have been one of the family of Kenn.

This is one of the most perfect and interesting specimens of ancient domestic architecture in the county of Somerset. It is a small building, its extreme length not exceeding 67 feet. The hall occupies the centre, and is 28 ft. 6 in. long, by 18 ft. in width. It has a window on the north, and another on the south side; the latter appears between the porch and the bay, which is a square of seven feet and a half on the inside, and forms the only means of communication between the hall and the withdrawingroom, which occupies the western wing of the building, and is 24 feet in length by 13 ft. 6 in. in width. The staircase is attached to this room, and entered from it, on the north side. The eastern wing, which is 31 feet and a half in length, and 18 feet eight inches in width, including the thickness of the walls, is separated into two rooms, the front and larger portion of which was the kitchen. The room beyond does not seem to have been devoted to mean uses. It has no external doorway, and it is difficult to imagine where space was formerly found for the offices which must have originally belonged to this handsome residence. As it does not appear that any subordinate buildings were ever attached to it, it is reasonable to suppose that they were included in some building detached, but not far removed from the main edifice. There is no chimney-piece in the hall, so that we may conclude that the fire was kindled on a hearth in the centre of the room. The chimney-piece in the withdrawing room is of stone, and singularly ornamented, and the ceiling is of wood-work, handsomely panelled.

The hall in this, as in the greater number of instances, has a lofty roof of timber, very finely constructed and

of good proportions, but not distinguished by many ornaments.

I should not, however, omit to notice a little window handsomely canopied, which appears high up in the wall at the west end. It opens into the spacious apartment over the withdrawing-room, and was sufficiently large to give the host a commanding view of his assembled guests.

We must now speak of the exterior, which presents a highly decorated elevation towards the south. The west wing and the bay on one hand, and the north wing and the porch on the other, leave the hall deeply recessed in the centre, and their double gables rise so high as nearly to conceal the long line of its steep roof. The arch of the porch, and the upper windows in the wings, are distinguished by Pointed arches. All the other windows have square tops, with very highly enriched tracery. The windows differ in size; several have transoms and several are without, but the whole appear with their original ornaments complete. The masonry and construction of this house are good and perfect.

It is now the property of John Hugh Smyth Pigott, of Brockley Hall, Esq. and will be henceforth preserved with the care it merits.

The following particulars are entered in the parish register of Kingston Seymour, and dated 1727, by Mr. James Tuthill, then Rector.

"Kingston, the manor and estate of John de Burgh, grandson of the great Hubert de Burgh, Earl of Kent, who leaving only three daughters and heirs, Hawise, Dervergild, and Margery, this manor and his other estates was parted between them; and Dervergild, who married Robert Fitzwalter, had this lordship for part of her share. It did not come to the said John from his ancestors, but as he was heir to Hawise de Llanvalley, his grandmother, upon failure of issue in that family. John de Kingston, who seems to have taken his name from his lordship, which was his seat, was Knight of this county and Dorsetshire in the 6th and 12th years of the reign of King Edward the Third."

This curious document is imperfect.
Yours, &c.
B.

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MEMORIALS OF LITERARY CHARACTERS.-No. IX.

LETTER FROM HUGH LORD POLWARTH, AFTERWARDS EARL OF MARCHMONT, TO AARON HILL, ESQ.*

1 RECEIVED your letter, Sir, with the same sensation that one receives an excuse from a friend for whom one has waited several hours. The excuse is very kind; but as the pleasure which the friend himself would give, often consists in some degree in what one has to say to him, nothing he can say can atone for the being disappointed of saying what one had to say to him.

I did expect you in town with great impatience, so long as I imagined you was on the road; and when I learnt that you had put off your journey, I submitted to it as I do to the frost, or Sir John Eyles's curiosity, which renders the invention of letters useless or dangerous. I had a great deal to say to you, and nothing to say to him. And by what I could say, that he might see, I knew I could add nothing to your entertainment; for assurances of my constant admiration, gratitude, and respect, I knew, or I hoped, were unnecessary. But I will not now particularize to him the reasons why I did not write to you. I heard of you with great pleasure from several of your friends who took the pleasure of writing to you; and who had the charity in this hard weather to load you with their farthings; but as I knew you had a flame within, the warmth of which has often animated me, and the light of it directed me, I thought it the wisest part I could take to keep my copper to myself. Could I have sent you a letter I have lately received from the Forest, I would have done it from mere vanity, or would do it now to explain to you what you enquire after in the beginning of your letter. One must be very insensible to the love of society not to make the approbation of such as you and him a principal motive of action; or one must have very low views indeed, where that approbation will not be a principal instrument to obtain one's end. But if the end proposed be not low, be not wages, be not money to hoard or to squan

* From Mr. Long's Transcripts; see p. 146.

That is, from Pope. EDIT.

der, what can it be so properly as the approbation and good will of those, whose opinion every man is determined by, and whose voice bespeaks merit. Ambition and vanity are both gratified by it. One sees it in the behaviour of others, and one feels a pleasure in that phrase of Tully—“ virtutes sine virtute assecuti sunt, sed tantorum virorum studia sine virtute nemo assecutus est." You will easily perceive why this sentence struck me so much. To find a foundation for one's vanity without oneself is the task of most men, to rest upon so sure a foundation for it as I do has been the lot of few. No wonder, then, if I am covetous of preserving it; if knowing the penetration and virtue of the men, I take more pains than others to preserve the foundation on which I rest, a stranger in this country this day was seven years, and at present a friend to the most (if not the only) valuable men in it. So far now from wondering, as you flattering do, I dare say you will not be surprised that I think of retiring, like the bears in the cold weather, after pampering myself dur ing the sunshine, to hide myself in a northern den, and suck my paws to subsist my vanity upon, or that I should follow the example of your Horatian lord mayor's horse—" ne ilia ducat."

I dare not even here [blank] you a receipt in full, there is so much more matter in your three lines than in his six pages, that even from a spirit of economy which he is possessed with for carrying on the War, he would never forgive you. Besides, the last time 1 saw him he rail'd at wit for two hours to Lady Hervey, which I told him was cruel, since no doubt he supposed she had none, or he would have been civiller to one of her qualifications. Perhaps he was angry at you for not answering him, as he is at me for not communicating to him a pamphlet, which he says you have wrote upon my furnishing you with materials.

1 am, with the greatest truth, Sir, your most obliged, faithful, humble servant, POLWARTH. London, 19th Jan. 1739-40.

HUGH EARLOF MARCHMONT TO AARON HILL, ESQ. ON THE DEATH OF SIR WILLIAM WYNDHAM.

Redbraes Castle, 5th July, 1740. I cannot express, dear Sir, the sense I have of your friendship, nor how much I owe to you for the kind letter I have received from you. It is the first thing has made me look back upon England with some ease. But the prospect is not to be dwelt upon by me; what a dreadfull void do I find there. You know the greatness of the loss-it is national, it is irreparable. But you have not a just opinion of me, when you imagine any thing within myself can be a consolation. I have neither strength nor virtue enough: no man ever lost a better friend, and no man was ever less fitt to do without such an one. It was this weakness that gave him opportunities of showing to me how much and how sincerely he was so. Little did I imagine that those marks of honour he bestowed on me, those proofs of his affection that convinced me of what my vanity could not persuade me that I could merit, should ever confirm me unhappy. But even now that it is so, I value them more than the objects of the fondest hopes of those wretches who are such strangers to virtue that they forget decency. Let it be remembered that they smiled at his death. I would have that epitaph upon his tomb. And if they ever arrive at the power they long for, the History of Britain will shew the importance of the man who could alone stem the torrent of their insolence and tyranny. I feel so much for myself upon this occasion, that I am not surprised at these men doing the same. They had never felt the pleasure of acting with him for their country; and they found the discovery of their intentions had got the better of that candor they had long endeavoured to impose on. What creatures must we be when you, who know the species so well, expect some are to be merry in a week after this death. I am sure his widow nor his heir will not be so: and will a gang of patriots be so? am sure his loss is greater to all real patriots than to his son, or to his widow tho' either in his character of father or husband 1 never saw a better. And I am persuaded his son and widow have a just sense of it. They do not

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smile at his death. Let it only be known who rejoice at it, let him be reckon'd by those who knew no more of him; only opposite to these, he needs no other panegyrick.

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Forgive me, nay I am sure you will, for the faults of this letter; a man more resigned than I have virtue enough to be, would be oppressed in this case. I have not the small relief of year after year. I have no expectation, dear Sir, but that of a long life after the loss of every man I love and esteem, of every friend, and of every amusement, -unless I co'd bring myself to take up with the modern pleasures of operas and Vauxhall; or attend the levees of those grinning scoundrels who rejoice at every national misfortune; or hunt, drink, and riot with those who delight in the pleasures of the country. No, Sir, if I could relish the friendship of a Wyndham, a Bolingbroke, and a Pope, those are no resources. I have nothing left but to continue to play the mole, and fling earth over my head as fast as I can I am too unlucky a traveller to think of travelling with you. Friendship for me carrys a poison with it, that I am afraid is fatal. I would wish to think that I have lost all my friends, in order to preserve the other two, for happier friends and more successfull endeavours. I am sensible how foolish this is, but I think I am growing more so every day. I am sorry you think of my neglecting you; it is not you that people neglect, nor those in my situation who neglect others. Who or what is there in England now, to make it tolerable to me, but you and the thought that you sometimes think on me like a friend? Was I able to lay before you things in the light I see them, you would be convinced of it. And what is there in this place to induce me to neglect the only men and the only place 1 had a pleasure in? But I have made too many stops before I came to this part, to be able to go on with this subject. I had a letter from the Forest, dated June the 13th, before he knew any thing of the misfortune that has befallen all honest men. He had been ill of a fever himself, and was not perfectly recovered. How he may be able to support the news concerns me. soul so sensible of friendship and the loss of such a friend, must make the

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