Chatsworth's "Revelation" Fountain: The Rhythm of Life is A Powerful Beat!

A couple of posts ago I was rambling about Blanche's Vase at Chatsworth.


Chatsworth House has other hidden corners just as restful but a bit more modern. The Revelation Water Sculpture is a hypnotic and stunning fountain, designed by sculptor Angela Connor, installed at Chatsworth in 1999.


The most famous water feature at Chatsworth is definitely the Cascade, 300 years old, a picturesque liquid ribbon flowing down 24 stone steps cut into the landscape above the House.

The Cascade in the grounds of Chatsworth House originally completed in 1696 and fed by four lakes

The 'Revelation' is less well known, but is a piece of simple modern engineering that will stay in your heart forever. Like a well oiled piece of organic clockwork, it sets its own rhythm. As you stand or sit to watch its elegant, unhurried cycle, perhaps it has something to teach us about the pace of our own lives.

Its in the form of a flower bud opening and closing its petals. Its motion is down to the pressure of water flowing from the sculpture. These photos I took show the stages of its dance:

Closed bud with water flowing over its shiny surfaces

Gradually the weight of water within causes the petals to unfold outwards...

...revealing the golden heart within.

As the flower fully opens, the water drains back into the surrounding lake

Letting the flower close again

Ready to start the cycle again, drawing visitors away from the rush of life to share the healing heartbeat of nature

Chatsworth's sculptures blend with the natural landscape beyond

Water and stone in harmony

Chatsworth's formal and natural gardens and buildings set in the splendour of the Derbyshire Peak District

Pseudoacacia Robinia 'Frisia', an Australasian visitor holds its own special sunshine at Chatsworth

Blanche's Vase: Urn-ing a special place at Chatsworth

Blanche's Vase (or Urn) at Chatsworth House, Derbyshire UK

You may feel you already know Chatsworth House in Derbyshire's lovely Peak District.


Even if you've never been there!


Chatsworth House has become famous on movie screens all over the world, wearing its film star face!

In 2005, it became Mr Darcy's home, Pemberley, in the film adaptation of Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice".


In 2008, it starred as itself in "The Duchess" telling the tale of its most glamorous and famous former occupant Georgiana, the 5th Duchess of Devonshire.


In 2010 it again featured on the big screen, when the cameras filmed "The Wolfman" there.

Chatsworth House, or the 'Palace of the Peak', Derbyshire, England

 I've been coming to Chatsworth since I was a kid. Getting familiar with its nooks and crannies long before I was old enough to know its history or read the maps and guidebooks. One of the first sights I remember belongs to the memory of one of Chatsworth's lesser known occupants, Georgiana's granddaughter Blanche, the 7th Duchess.

Blanche's Vase - a lasting memorial to a life ended far too soon

The first time I held a guidebook in my own hands (as opposed to visiting with my parents on their motorbike and sidecar), I noticed the words "Blanche's Vase" next to a spot at the end of an avenue of my favourite beech trees, sometimes referred to on maps as "Broad Walk" or "Long Walk".


I walked up the long avenue flanked by these stunning beech trees towards what looks from a distance a very ordinary stone pot, positioned on the highest point of the path. There are many different statues around Chatsworth. I wondered how exactly I would be sure this was what I was looking for.

From the back, nothing but bare stone. I started to walk round the huge pot and made out the letter "E". Then an "H" carved next to it. Then a "C". I was doubled up with laughter as I saw that, of course, the monument is exactly what it says in the description. A giant flowerpot crafted from local sandstone with the name of "Blanche" chipped into it by a stonemason back in 1840!

Blanche did not live a memorably glamorous life like her famous grandmother Georgiana. Her mother, Georgiana's daughter, also called Georgiana, was married to George Howard, 6th Earl of Carlisle. Young Blanche was born on 11th January 1812, full name Blanche Georgiana Howard. Blanche became the favourite niece of the 6th Duke of Devonshire, her mother's brother and the famous Georgiana's heir.

Blanche Georgiana Cavendish, nee Howard, standing by a column not unlike the pedestal of her vase!

Known as "Hart" because of one of his titles, Marquess of Hartington, William Spencer George Cavendish, was also called "The Bachelor Duke" for obvious reasons. He was a close friend of the Prince Regent and a prominent Whig politician. He doted on Blanche and when she married another of the Cavendish clan, Hart's cousin once removed, William Cavendish 2nd Earl of Burlington, they were very close to him and became his heirs at Chatsworth.

Hart, (William Cavendish), the 6th Duke of Devonshire, and Blanche's devoted uncle

 However, Blanche sadly died aged only 28 on 27th April 1840. Hart was devastated.

He had the vase placed in the grounds  so his niece would never be forgotten. He also left an inscription to her memory in Chatsworth's Painted Hall. It says that he completed the restorations to the House in the year of his bereavement. Neither her uncle nor her husband ever really recovered from the blow of losing Blanche. That's an amazing testament to her character and lovable nature, more than can be graven in stone.


Her uncle Hart once wrote:

"There are many things at Chatsworth that I should not have allowed myself to do had I not reposed in the thoughts of being succeeded by a person so indulgent, so much attached to me as Blanche." (Quote from 'The Garden at Chatsworth' by the Dowager Duchess of Devonshire).

A play on the Cavendish name in the family motto "Cavendo Tutus" meaning "Safe through Caution", graven in gold around the outside of the house

 
 Some speculate that Hart's fondness for Blanche and her husband William influenced his decision not to marry. Chatsworth House mounted an exhibition about him recently, calling him: 'Britain's Most Inspirational and Eligible Bachelor'.  Hart certainly is reputed to have had his fair share of mistresses positioned at handy distances from his ancestral home! He was known in contemporary accounts as 'the most princely of England's nobility'.

Certainly, if it wasn't for Hart's lasting tributes to Blanche, we would know even less about her than we do. She has always fascinated me since I first discovered her vase perched at the end of the beech avenue. The impression she left in this most beautiful corner of England, echoes sweetly from far beyond the grave.

Stunningly lovely Chatsworth House and Gardens

If you haven't had the joy of a visit to Chatsworth yet, and even if you have, there is always more to discover. You owe it to yourself. Blanche and her kin will be waiting with the warmest welcome!


Chatsworth House Official Website

The Bottom Obelisk? A ginormous grave, at any rate!

Just had a text from a dear friend. He says he and his wife are standing in the huge churchyard attached to St Thomas's Parish Church, Kimberworth, Rotherham, at the foot of "The Bottom Tower".

Don't bother looking it up on Google maps! You won't find it!


I texted back joking that maybe English Heritage should rename the monument referred to, as "The Bottom Obelisk" or something equally grand, and start charging! Though maybe not in the current economic climate!


Knowing my obsession with family history, my friends had found their way, on my vague instructions, to one of my ancestor's graves. I explained that they could hardly miss it. It's the biggest, tallest monument in the whole graveyard!

John Bottom's inscription on monument in his memory

It was built to commemorate and mark the position of the remains of the family of my great great granduncle John Bottom, formerly a local Labour councillor in the Rotherham (Masborough) constituency back in the 1880s, and a prominent local small businessman and publican.


He was the middle brother of three, the sons of William Bottom of Hatfield Woodhouse, a cobbler, and Hannah Huddleston. 

The eldest boy, also William, b 1835, married my great great grandmother Charlotte Barrass in 1861. If he had done so a few years earlier, before the birth of her son Thomas in 1857, who I have many reasons to believe was actually William's son, my own family name would have been 'Bottom'. I am thankful for small mercies, even though my own surname 'Barrass' causes more complications of spelling with the double consonants and the vowel possibilities than 'Bottom' would, though possibly less hilarity!


William Bottom was the closest thing to a father figure my great grandfather Thomas knew, and I count him as my ancestor on those terms. John was the middle boy and moved away from the tiny village of Hatfield Woodhouse where brother William was a farmer, yeast and bacon dealer.

The wrought iron railing round the foot of the Bottom family monument

John and his youngest brother Francis set up a shop on the corner of Providence Street on Masborough Road at Kimberworth. By the size of this grave, his will and the fact he found his way onto the council, he seems to have been relatively successful. John must have been the business brains, the name over the shop, while Francis was the one who made deliveries round the town and liaised with customers, from what I see on census returns.

John worked his way from very humble beginnings as a farm labourer. He married his first wife Frances Earnshaw of Cliff House in the shadow of nearby Conisborough Castle, in 1866, and by 1871 was starting his business as an egg and butter trader while running the Royal Standard pub in Masborough. He then started the shop with Francis, and in 1880 was elected Rotherham Councillor in the Masborough Ward. His will shows that by the time of his death his effects came to £6755 16s 10d.  He also had shares in property on Moorgate, Rotherham, and owned a ring in the form of a snake with a diamond for an eye!

Words commemorating John's first wife Frances and their two infant sons

Sadly, his personal life was shot through with tragedy. He and Frances lost both their sons, Arthur and John before either boy reached his first birthday. Frances followed her babies to the grave in 1889. You can see their names on the Bottom monument.


John remarried, to Annie Moore from Misson over the border in Nottinghamshire, in 1891. They had also had two sons, another John, who died at the Second Battle of Ypres in WW1 in 1915, a Lance Corporal in 18th (Queen Mary's Own) Hussars, and Stuart, who died a few months after his first birthday.


Annie, who was 26 years John's junior, died in 1896. John himself passed away two years later, aged 60, on 2nd January 1898.

The 1901 census shows that his only surviving son John was living with his Uncle Frank at the shop, which carried on trading into the 20th century. Frank and his second wife Annie Elizabeth Wordsworth, a local Kimberworth lass, both survived to see their nephew John lost in the Great War, and the death of his elder brother, my great great grandfather William in 1917, back in their home village.


Frank and Annie's grave is a great deal more humble and modest than John's. They lie in the little cemetery in Masborough itself:

John's younger brother Frank and his wife and son lie in peace in a nearby cemetery

Frank had gone from being porter and assistant to his brother John, to inheriting the business. He is listed on the 1911 census as "Wholesale and Retail Provision Merchant" at the old address, 136, Masbro Street, Kimberworth. No room at "The Obelisk" for him, though after the War!

St Thomas's Parish Church at Kimberworth, South Yorkshire, UK

Cusworth Hall: Butterflies and Bumble Bees, and what the Butler saw!

If you happen to be passing CUSWORTH HALL near Doncaster today, be sure to check out their BUTTERFLIES AND BUMBLE BEES event this afternoon. The weather seems to be fine today, in spite of a spot of summer rain earlier!

Cusworth Hall near Doncaster

Boring old M.E./CFS has spat on my attendance chances, but don't miss yours!


I have a bit of a vested interest in Cusworth. My poor long-suffering friends and family will know this by heart, but in case you don't, my link is this: my paternal great gran, twin Eliza Barrass, nee Wright (1857-1905) had a sister Lucy, the baby of the family born in 1865.

 Lucy married the love of her life, Charles Betts, on 22nd December 1890 in her native Warmsworth, at the little church now demolished and its site entombed under the M1 motorway! 

Charles became the butler ("You rang, Milady?") to Lady Isabella Battie-Wrightson, her ladyship at Cusworth in the early 20th century. Lady Isabella presided over the Hall in the last of its glory days before it passed after her death to the last squire, Robert Cecil Battie-Wrightson, pictured here in Doncaster:

Robert Cecil Battie-Wrightson in Doncaster

 Charles Betts, a dapper little man, judging by the existing photos, came originally from Thorne and moved to Warmsworth where he met and married my great grandaunt Lucy. As butler to Lady Isabella, Charles moved into The Lodge, the gatehouse at Cusworth with his family.

They can be seen outside the Lodge c1908. In this photo, you can see great grandaunt Lucy (who sadly died shortly after this photo was taken, aged only 42, of colon cancer and cardiac failure in Doncaster Royal Infirmary), their daughter Mary Ann, who became a housemaid at the Hall, and Charles himself.

Lucy Betts nee Wright, my great gran Eliza Barrass's youngest sister, her daughter Mary Ann and husband Charles circa 1908 outside their home, The Lodge of Cusworth Hall. The Hall itself is visible though the gateway arch, while the Betts family lived rather more humbly behind those net curtains! The original photo of which this is only a scan, can be found on p 42 of the wonderful guidebook 'Cusworth Hall and the Battie Wrightson Family'  and remains copyright of its author Gordon Smith.  I was overjoyed and overwhelmed to discover it quite by sweet serendipity while researching my own family history.

Daughter Mary Ann worked at Cusworth Hall until after her marriage to Richard Ormerod Walshaw in 1936. The Betts family is mentioned in some of the excellent Cusworth guidebooks available around Doncaster, including the one that includes these photos, and another,  'Caring for Cusworth: servants recall a bygone era...' by Alison Morrish, the Curator at Cusworth when that book was produced in 1982. I bought mine, giddy with joy as I spotted the name Betts and this photo of Lucy looking the very image of a Barrass, at Doncaster Museum and Art Gallery .

Another photo in Gordon Smith's book, shows Charles (if I'm recognising his distinctive features rightly!) at Lady Isabella's right hand side, enjoying one of the Hall's famous fancy dress balls before the Great War. Her Ladyship is enthroned as a rather magnificent Britannia! 

Fancy Dress Party at Cusworth Hall prior to WW1, showing Lady Isabella and everyone on the Cusworth Estate, including my ancestors the Betts family. Scan of original photo on p 43 of 'Cusworth Hall and the Battie-Wrightson Family' copyright Gordon Smith, Doncaster 1990.

During the First World War, Charles Betts was caught on camera when Lady Isabella entertained the King's Own Yorkshire Light Infantry at Cusworth. My paternal grandfather, Bruce Aaron Barrass, (1891-1973) was in the same regiment.  I wish among granddad Bruce's endless loquacious stories of the past, which so fascinated me as a child, he could have spoken about his uncle Charles, butler at Cusworth Hall! Instead I had the fun of discovering this rich vein of ancestry for myself!

Housemaid, handyman and my great granduncle Charles Betts the Butler at Cusworth Hall, c 1910 (photo detail from p 41 of 'Cusworth Hall and the Battie Wrightson Family' original photo copyright Gordon Smith, Doncaster 1990)

If like me, you've missed those bees and butterflies, don't waste the opportunity through the summer of spending some time with your family, or just relaxing on your own, exploring Cusworth's beautiful and interesting Hall set in its peaceful rolling grounds with magnificent trees, lawns and soothing water features. 

Cusworth Hall is one of the real precious jewels in Doncaster's battered but beautiful crown!

Some more info on this link


and on Cusworth Hall's own excellent website: http://www.cusworth-hall.co.uk/

All hail, English Summer!

Hailstorm in Yorkshire, England at noon 19th July 2011

I love a good storm. Yesterday lunchtime's was truly epic! The video clip on the link above taken on my cellphone doesn't do it justice!


First the clouds took on a a smoky shade, the colour of a drenched woodpigeon's neck. Then a few tickles of electric and chuckles of static and the party kicked off!


A huge thunderclap rattled the windows in the little conservatory where I was sitting. The rain began lashing down in diaphanous sheets of sting and fizz. What one minute was liquid bouncing up from the startled concrete patio, was the next transmuted into rattling white pearl-sized hailstones. Within a few minutes the lawn was white over with nuggets of diamond.

The drains couldn't cope with the sudden downpour and before I could poke my mobile phonecam out the back door, a flash flood three inches deep was pooled along the edge of the patio right round to the side gate. I did a mental inventory of boat-building materials I might have to hand!

Before I could do my Noah bit, though, I heard an ominous dripping from between the edge of the conseravtory roof and the spot where it joins onto the back wall of the house. Towels and buckets in place I watched the show going on all around!


Even the feeding birds and the squirrel enjoying the nut hopper had run for cover! The sound of the hail ringing on the roof shut out everything but the white luminous noise of the storm. I got a little footage of the hail and managed to wrestle the door shut again against the capriciously playful elements. I found myself mentally quoting lines from one of my very favourite poems, Tennyson's "Locksley Hall" inspired by his living not far from here, in Lincolnshire:

Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over heath and holt,

Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt.

 

 

A blast was certainly being crammed against my door! But it left as quickly as it had arrived. An hour later, after a further quick shower, the sun was glittering calmly in the puddles and the balmy air hugged me with a reassuring woolly kiss as I ventured out. The dripping stopped, the carpet dried and by teatime, the ground was dry and the grass was only dusted white with clover.

 

The sun has got his hat on...

 

 

I always feel blessed to enjoy days like this. Also blessed to open the mail this morning and find a rare letter from my landlords in London saying they're about to survey my rented house. This month or next they're sending somebody to take an inventory of maintenance tasks that they may need to tackle in the future, funds permitting.

 

Though I'm not holding my breath, I should probably mention the conservatory roof when they're in the area!

 

I often wonder if the amount of the national budget spent on the Met Office is wholly justified. I admit that yesterday, for once, we were warned!

 

 

Baby hedgehog's mealworm munchtime

Nom nom nom! Must admit, the dried mealworms I put out for the birds do smell surprisingly appetising! I scatter them on the raised pebbled border just outside my back door.

The yummy smell comes as a bit of a surprise, actually. It's in direct contrast to the infernal stench of the "Maggot Factory" at the end of my lane when I was growing up, where maggots were bred for the fishing and angling trade. The horrific stink that wafted over the fields to my house at the edge of the village was truly gut-wrenching on hot summer evenings!


But these days, I didn't realised these little dried buddies' aroma would attract the baby hedgehog so close to the house. This delightful close enclounter happened yesterday lunchtime. I saw the little hedgehog toddling along towards me over the concrete patio. As I went out with my mobile phone to capture him on camera, keeping downwind so he wouldn't ball himself up in fright, he clambered up onto the mealworm-scattered pebbly "bird table."

There his little face took on an expression on bliss. Gourmet fare! All for free! The photos here show him enjoying his outing to my humble local restaurant. One of his parents visited again in the afternoon, but didn't venture quite so close. Enjoy!