Chatsworth...Or Should I Say Pemberley?

I have never been one to deny that I thoroughly enjoy visiting castles, mansions, and anything else that could remotely qualify as a historic home. Heck, I've visited more than a couple "castles" that are no more than piles of rubbles, and I still enjoy it. Also, being a woman, I happen to thoroughly enjoy Pride & Prejudice--especially a character you may or may not have heard of named Mr. Darcy. Ah yes, the man that women everywhere swoon over and the role that Colin Firth will never escape being pigeonholed in. Therefore, it really was a no-brainer when my grandparents asked me if I would like to visit Chatsworth, a country home nestled in the Peaks District of Derbyshire (3 miles northeast of Bakewell) which served as Mr. Darcy's Pemberley in the 2005 adaptation of Jane Austen's novel.

Chatsworth has been voted "Britain's Best Historic House" a number of times, and it was immediately apparent why when we got our first glimpse through the trees to the right of the road--even if it was a miserable, gray day. The house, sitting on its own small hill in the distance, was a striking golden hue and stood in contrast to the lush green hills behind. Surrounding it were perfectly manicured gardens in various shades of green. Atop the hill above the house was the Cascade, a man-made "waterfall" that is the source for many of the gravity-fed waterworks in the gardens.

I couldn't think of a more worthy setting for Pemberley (although Lyme Park, located in Cheshire, does a pretty decent job in the 1996 BBC mini-series). It is known that Jane Austen spent a fair amount of time in nearby Bakewell while writing her most famous novel, and although she mentions Chatsworth itself in the book, many think that the house was her inspiration for the fictional Pemberley. I could just imagine Elizabeth Bennet being totally at home in the woods and sprawling gardens visible all around us.

Quick Tips:

Entry into Chatsworth is pretty expensive by any standards. If this were just another historical house, it might not be worth to pay the £11.55 adult admission (explained in more detail below, as it is somewhat confusing at first) to spend an hour ooh-ing and ahh-ing at tapestries and expensive china. However, the Chatsworth website states that you need to budget at least five hours for your visit to Chatsworth, and I wholeheartedly agree. You can lose yourself easily and spend half or nearly an entire day on the grounds, and because of that, I believe admission is worth every penny.

Buying admission into Chatsworth isn't quite as easy as simply looking at a price and paying it. There are three different attraction tickets you can buy individually, plus a family pass that gets your entire family into all the attractions Chatsworth has to offer. Each attraction ticket is divided into subtickets depending on whether you fall into the adult, child, student, senior, or family category. But that's not all! There is more than one price posted for each subticket, which definitely made Nanna and me look twice as we were trying to determine our ticket price. Now, if you are an international resident, you do not have to worry--you are only allowed to pay the standard admission price (which goes to the Chatsworth House Trust). For a student or a senior, admission to the house and gardens is £8.50, and for an adult it is £10.50. However, if you are a resident of Great Britain, you can choose to either pay the standard price or the gift aid price, which is slightly higher at £9.35 (student/senior) or £11.55 (adult). Since admission goes towards Chatsworth's charity, a gift aid donation allows the charity to reclaim the 28% tax you paid to the government on that money. As an added incentive to donate with gift aid, you are given a voucher for a certain percentage of your ticket to use in the gift shop how you wish. In the case of the prices I mentioned above, a student/senior would receive a voucher worth £1.30 and an adult would receive a voucher worth £1.60.

Best Way To Get Around:

First, a little more about tickets:
The three different attraction tickets are for 1) the house & gardens, 2) just the gardens, and 3) the farmyard and adventure playground. I recommend the first unless you have children, in which case you might want to tack on the third as well and buy the whopping £49.50 family ticket that gets you into all three.

To top it all off, you can get in for a couple pounds cheaper just by booking a ticket online before you head out to Chatsworth. Since I did utilize this system (not knowing about it beforehand), I'm not sure exactly how it works, but it looked pretty straightforward.

As if that is not enough to know, these prices are only valid until 2 November, when the Christmas season kicks in and it costs even more to visit. During the flower show in September, prices also rise.

Opening times:
The park around Chatsworth is open all year, but parking may not be provided in low season. The garden is open 11am-6pm every day, and the house is open from 11am-5:30pm. Other opening times (for restaurants, the farmyard, etc) can be found here. The open season this year is from 23 March-23 December.


Now, on getting there:
To get there, we took the M1 South and exited at Junction 29, which was signposted to Chesterfield. On the hill overlooking the motorway is Hardwick Hall, another grand estate built by Bess of Hardwick, but it was unfortunately closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, so we did not visit. We took the A619, which led past another historic house (Bolsover Castle, a home in surprisingly good repair that also might be worth a look on your daytrip) and into Chesterfield. Here, I got to see the crooked spire of the Church of Saint Mary of All Saints--a wooden spire that has twisted 45° and leaned 9 feet from the center since it was built. We continued along the A619 in the direction of the brown Chatsworth signs until reaching Baslow, where we turned onto the road leading into the estate. There is provided parking for a fee around £5.

As for public transport, the closest train station is in Chesterfield, which the website estimates to be 30 minutes away. That's a pretty penny on a cab fare there and back, so driving is probably the best option.

The first house at Chatsworth was built by the inimitable Bess of Hardwick with her second husband William Cavendish. (The Cavendish family name survives to this day in the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire that live at Chatsworth). This was in the mid-1500s (1552 to be exact), and the house survived relatively intact until the first Duke drastically altered it in the late 1600s. His complete remodeling of the south front (featured in the 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice, starring Keira Knightley) made Chatsworth the vision it is today.

One of the first glimpses Nanna and I got of the inside of Chatsworth was also the first glimpse a movie-goer gets. As we walked into the Painted Hall, I immediately noticed colors in my peripheral vision, and looking up, I saw that the ceiling was a sprawling restored mural depicting Julius Caesar and lots of other robed figures. The walls were sickeningly ornate and there was another mural on the left-hand wall, but our eyes didn't linger on them for long. We kept looking back up towards the ceiling, craning our heads back and nearly losing our balance before realizing that mirrors were provided on a nearby table for the very purpose of keeping people from getting dizzy and falling on their heads!

It's fortunate the ceiling is still there, since it sagged to the point of collapse in 1936 before it was frantically restored. This is definitely one of the most vibrant rooms in the house in terms of the paintings, since both the ceiling and wall murals have been restored, making the colors much more vivid than many of the older paintings.

The Great Stairs were quite interesting, since the paintings on the stone walls looked like real (albeit somewhat monochrome) tapestries from afar. It was only until we got much closer that we realized no tapestry could possibly be that thin!

Each room we walked into made sure that it was not outdone by any of the others; I can only recall one or two rooms that did not have expansive murals covering their ceilings and ornaments carved into all parts of the walls. The Great Chamber, for instance, had wooden walls with a flock of birds carved all around the mantlepiece of the fireplace.

Adding to the built-in glory of all the rooms were the furnishings and other wares throughout them. Like in most historic houses, most of this was blocked off by a rope so the visitors don't sit on the hundred-year-old loveseats or try to eat with the golden cutlery! Yes, there was golden cutlery, along with golden bowls, dishes, and the works. One room held a huge display of the shiny dishes. I can see buying china--which looks nice, rather than tacky--but goldenware? I can't imagine spending that much money on something to eat from!

This entry is continued in Chatsworth House, Part 2.

This entry is a continuation of my Chatsworth House entry.

Every room had a large sign to say exactly what the room was used for and why some of the furnishings or paintings were important. This meant we didn't have to have an audio tour, a guided tour, or even a guidebook to find our way around the house, as was the case with Hampton Court, which had absolutely no signage to speak of. All of the tidbits were quite interesting, especially the one about Penrhos College. During World War II, the Duke offered his house to the girls of this school in North Wales. Nearly twenty of the girls slept in the State Drawing Room.

Another room of note was the State Music Room. Again, the ceiling was beautifully painted and the walls had gold inlaid in them, but the most striking addition was the Violin Door. This door stands behind another door, left open just wide enough to see the violin hanging on the Violin Door. I thought it was interesting, but nothing special, that a violin was hanging on the door until I read a sign saying the violin was just a painting. It very much deceived both Nanna and me, who had to look quite hard to see that the shadows and highlights were indeed painted on.

Towards the end of our tour through the house, Nanna and I came upon some relics that were most puzzling. Set into the wall just outside the oak room was what looked like an Egyptian ledger. Where in the world could that have come from? I couldn't figure it out, so I asked a guide (standing right next to a sitting statue of the Egyptian goddess Sekmet), who told us that the 6th Duke enjoyed collecting anything and everything. The two statues of Sekmet were sitting in the hallway after being moved from the garden to save them from the wear-and-tear of rain and frost damage.

The last room on the tour, just before the gift shop, is the Sculpture Gallery. The 6th Duke had this room specially built for his sculptures, and unlike the rest of the house, its walls are plain stone, which lends itself nicely as a backdrop. We saw a wide array of sculptures, from Achilles pulling the arrow out of his heel on one end to crouching lions at the other (I especially liked the glaring lion, waiting until you turn your back to pounce on you). All of these sculptures are seen in Pride & Prejudice when Elizabeth wanders through the gallery before being transfixed by the sculpture of Darcy. Unfortunately, I didn't see the sculpture of Darcy while I was there!

Overall, I found Chatsworth to be one of the best-presented historical homes that I have ever visited. The house is a treat to look at, but there is no way I could live in such excessive opulence--give me a shack in the garden any day!

The first part of the gardens that people tend to flock to is the Canal Pond and its Emperor Fountain. Shooting over 90 feet in the air, the fountain is a spectacular water display that is sure to both wow you and coat you in a fine spray. If you are lucky enough (meaning you visit on a certain, scheduled day), you might even see the fountain shooting extra high--to a world-record-breaking 294 feet, in fact. The fountain was amazing enough when I saw it; I can't imagine it being three times as tall!

The height record that the Emperor's Fountain broke is for gravity-fed fountains. This means that no other power is used to propel the water so high into the sky except for gravity itself, which pulls the water, through pipes, 400 feet downhill from the Emperor's Lake. This lake, along with many others in the estate, were built solely for powering the many waterworks located in the garden; otherwise, even being located in the rain capital of the world (England) wouldn't provide them with enough water to keep everything running!

It may seem a bit odd that it is called the Emperor Fountain, seeing as no emperors have ever lived at Chatsworth. However, the name isn't just a misnomer or just randomly picked. The 6th Duke--the same one that liked to collect anything, including the Egyptian relics found inside the house--found out about Czar Nicholas' impending visit to England and wanted to impress him with a gravity-fed fountain even taller than the one found in Peterhof, Russia. Frantically, men worked day and night and finished the fountain within six months, only to have the Emperor not visit Chatsworth at all. Nevertheless, the fountain still kept his name.

The Canal Pond, which the Emperor Fountain sprays out of, has been around a lot longer than the Fountain itself. It was dug in 1702, the hill that previously occupied the area being "perfectly carried away" in the words of Daniel Defoe. The first view of Chatsworth/Pemberley seen in Pride & Prejudice is from the end of this pond, this picturesque sight having been created by "some genius (who) set the Canal Pond a few inches higher than the South Lawn, (so) when seen from the far end of the pond, the house appears to rise from the water." The Canal Pond originally was home to the Great Fountain, which shot 94 feet in the air and was the tallest in England. Since it is no longer there, I can only assume that this was replaced by the 6th Duke's Emperor Fountain.

I had already gotten a good glimpse of the Emperor Fountain from various windows in the house; however, I wanted a closer look, so the Fountain was the first thing I headed to when I was let loose in the gardens. (Side note: the gardens book, which costs £3.50, is a great buy and is full of interesting tidbits about the garden. Plus, it has a very handy map that tells you where and what everything in the garden is. I didn't buy the guide until I left, and there are definitely a few places mentioned in the book I would have liked to have seen. Therefore, I recommend getting a book before setting out!)

The large dirt pathway to the left of the house leads along the Canal Pond to the end, although it is separated from the Pond by thick trees for much of it. However, there is a turnoff just before the trees begin that takes you to the top of the pond and well within the radius of the spray from the Fountain. There is a bench here to have a nice relaxing spray shower, along with a signpost that details the basics of the fountain's workings. You can walk along the banks of the Pond from here, but the left side is much steeper than the right and the bushes grow closer to the water line. I chose to walk along the wooded Broad Walk, partly because it was pretty and secluded, and partly because I was curious about the giant trophy-looking sculpture in the center of the walkway at the top of the hill. All I managed to find out was that, well, it was a large trophy-like vase named "Blanche's Vase."

A few trips off the beaten path, down the hill towards the Pond, were well worth it. Here, I got some fantastic views of the house, the Pond, the Fountain, and plenty of flowers. I especially enjoyed one vantage point that featured a fiery yellow and orange bush with the house peeking out behind.

At the end of the Pond is a clearing with a couple sculptures. The first is a bust of Angela Conner, a good friend of the 11th Duchess and a sculptor with many pieces throughout the house. The other is the "War Horse," also by Angela Conner. The horse stands facing away from the house towards the purple-flowered bushes at the end of the clearing.

This point is where many of the most famous pictures of Chatsworth have been taken from, and it is where, as stated in my "History" entry, the house appears to be rising from the Pond itself. It really is a breathtaking view any way you look here, as there is not only the house and Pond to see but stunning Derbyshire countryside scenery as well. Did I mention there were snow white swans gliding across the pond as well?

This entry is continued in The Emperor Fountain & Canal Pond: Psycho Geese.

This entry is a continuation of The Emperor Fountain & Canal Pond: My Visit.

If I had continued on the path that leads to the east of the Canal Pond, I would have found the Azalea Dell, the Ravine, the Trough Waterfall, and the Grotto Pond, all of which look well worth visiting from the pictures in the guide book. The Azalea Dell is supposedly unforgettable at the end of May, and judging from the azaleas I saw in the rest of the garden, it is probably nothing short of jaw-dropping.

As I rounded the end of the pond--this, of course, after I managed to stop taking pictures--I found myself very close to a small gaggle of geese. Two mothers, with heads as black as coal except for one chalky white patch around the throat, stood guard over their fuzzy, brownish-gold goslings. It is really too bad that geese do not stay goslings for their entire lives, since I actually found them cute and they didn't appear to have the nature of devil incarnates that all geese develop, possibly around the time their fluff turns into feathers. There were three of them, and two were huddled closely together near the edge of the pond. I thought it would be a nice (and different) snapshot to have the cute toddlers on the grass in front of the house's facade, so I kneeled down--at a safe distance where I wouldn't harm the babies in any way--and got a couple shots. The goslings did not notice or care that I was there, but mother goose certainly did--and let me tell you, she wasn't interested in telling me a nursery rhyme! With every movement I made--mostly just to steady myself so I didn't fall into the foot-deep pond--she squawked at me. Funnily enough, she didn't move until I pushed myself up and was in the process of leaving. This must have gotten on her last nerve because, with a loud honking noise, she charged towards me. I had a bad experience (at the age of six) with a goose that grabbed onto my nose for dear life, and I have never forgotten the sheer agony of not being able to pry a goose's jaw open and rescue my poor schnoz from the wrath of an angry bird. I backed away quickly and nearly fell into the pond, so eager was I to get away from the rampaging poultry.

Safe from the likes of coal-and-chalk avians, at least for the moment, I continued on my path on the flat side of the pond. I meandered about, taking advantage of the approximately 1,000,000 different angles at which I could see both the house and the surrounding Peaks District. The day was not a spectacular one--I was still wearing my raincoat and waiting for the next rain shower to hit--and I just stood and imagined what a sight it would be to see the sun's rays glinting off the pond, reflecting the cobalt-and-white mixture of the cloud above.

The path leading east from the northern end of the Canal Pond encircles a pond called the Ring Pond with a small gravity-fed fountain in the middle. The interesting thing about this fountain, which I did not notice at the time, is the fact that the spout of the fountain actually is in a lead duck's beak. This duck originally came from another pond, which according to my guidebook, was "inevitably called the 'Sick Duck Pond.'"

Not content to just follow the path, I wandered off into whatever corner I could find, which in this case, happened to be a hedged walkway to the northeast of the Ring Pond. This quickly opened up into what I later found out was the Strid. And what an idyllic scene the Strid is.

Imagine this: you are walking through hedges, not really sure where you are going to come out. Then, the world seems to widen around you as you spill out of the hedges and onto the banks of a pond, glinting with the occasional sun peeping out of the clouds. Even when the sun is nowhere to be seen, the muddy brown water perfectly reflects the rocks encircling it and the wood-and-stone bridge crossing it. Tall reeds block part of the view across the pond as they sway in the light wind. All around you, foliage blooms in different shades of green with the occasional purply-brown of the copper beech thrown in to catch the eye. Behind the bridge, a waterfall feeds the pond with a trickle of water, and beyond that, the large boulders of the rock garden loom. Now tell me you wouldn't like to visit the Strid.

The Strid struck me as somewhat of an odd name, and the guidebook does not expound upon the meaning, instead pointing out that this part of the garden is named after the Strid at Bolton Abbey. However, the description of this Strid--"a famous section of the river Wharfe...where the water has worn a deep and narrow chasm through the rocks"--pretty much tells you exactly what a strid is ("a narrow passage between precipitous rocks or banks, which looks as if it might be crossed at a stride," according to Dictionary.com). The Chatsworth Strid is not quite a deep raging torrent though--being only five feet deep and full of lazy brown trout--and it certainly didn't look to me that it could be crossed in one stride. Nevertheless, even if it is a bit of a misnomer, the name adds a bit of intrigue.

I wandered all around the banks of the Strid, discovering the rim of the rock gardens in the process before circling back to the pond and crossing over the bridge. From there, a path leads to the east into the heart of the rock gardens.

The Rock Garden is one of the most visible and prominent parts of all of Chatsworth's gardens. Built by Paxton, a man integral to the creation of Chatsworth's gardens, in the early 1840s, the goal of this garden was to "copy the most picturesque assemblages of natural rocks," which explains the "haphazard" placement of many. Indeed, it looks like, with just a small poke, some of them would come tumbling down from their posts, but this is not the case as all have been very firmly fixed in place. However, they have not always been so, as is obvious from a quote by the Lord Desart in the 1860s when he said, "In one place a sort of miniature Matterhorn apparently blocked the path but with the touch of the finger it revolved on a metal axis and made a way to pass." Blame safety regulations for this nifty little feature no longer being in the garden.

Now "miniature Matterhorn" may be a slight exaggeration of the size of the rocks, but they are certainly massive and it must have taken quite an effort on Paxton's part, with his steam-powered machinery, to put them in place. In some places, you can wander all around these rocks, with muddy paths leading you up steep slopes between their varying levels. However, the rocks themselves are off-limits, and it is preferred if you do not try to put your weight on them or climb them in any way. Doing so will undo Paxton and many others hard work and cause the rocks to fall down, rendering the paths impassable for future visitors.

There is a large pathway that cuts through the rock garden to the east of the Strid and the Ring Pond. Along this, you can see all varieties of flowers and other plant life, which includes a tree that very much surprised me--a huge red-barked tree that seemed more at home in California than in Derbyshire. A (pipe-fed) waterfall flows down a giant rock wall on the east side of the path.

From the path, you can take a much smaller path into the heart of the rock garden. It winds underneath short rock arches, through narrow rock-lined walkways and deposits you at the top of a rocky promontory. This walk was not possible until just a few years ago, when the 11th Duke and Duchess began a massive project to revamp the rock gardens. This was to comply with the aforementioned safety regulations and to make sure that visitors didn't have to worry about 3-ton rocks falling on their heads (which would possibly be somewhat of a downer). These renovations began in 2002 and involved removing all of the rocks in the precariously balanced area of the garden before pouring a concrete foundation and replacing them. Of course, this was done with slightly more advanced machinery than in Paxton's day.

This entry is continued in The Rock Garden, Part 2.

This entry is a continuation of The Rock Garden entry.

Along with making the pathways safer, these renovations also added what I think was the most impressive part of the rock gardens: the viewpoint. Now, if you don't feel like walking up the semi-steep dirt paths through the gardens, you can also get to the viewpoint by wandering up the much lower-grade walkway from the coal walkway to the south. Essentially, the viewpoint is just an open area on top of the promontory where you can see much of Chatsworth's gardens, and even a little bit of the house itself. Stretching before me were the calm waters of the Strid and the perfectly manicured beech hedges surrounding the Ring Pond. To my right, I could again see the red-barked tree. The flowers were blooming in every color imaginable and the trees, leaves, and bushes were all vibrantly green. The sun had finally decided to make a bit of an appearance, and part of the sky had cleared to reveal a blue-and-white patchwork. I could have stood there all day, staring in admiration.

By this point, I had decided that while I would not like to live in a house as ornate and huge as Chatsworth, I would have gladly lived in a shack in the middle of the gardens if it meant I got to play in them all day. If I had to take care of them, that would be a completely different story--and people would certainly stop visiting Chatsworth because the gardens would turn into a brown, dead mess! But yes, to have all of this space to roam about and enjoy nature would leave me totally content.

I mentioned the Coal Tunnel before, which is where I headed to after finally tearing myself away from the viewpoint. The path was very shaded and led past a small stone building on the left hand side. This stone shack, I would later realize, was the beginning of the Coal Tunnel and is called the "Cole Hole." Here, men used to shovel coal to transport to places like the Great Conservatory (which no longer exists) before taking it through the Tunnel, which has been excavated and opened to visitors in recent years. Essentially, I think it is a small, dark tunnel that leads through a cave. In any case, the door was closed and locked, and it appeared there was no way to get in, so I assumed I had the wrong place and continued walking. The path quickly turns on itself and runs downhill back towards the rock garden and left me with no other choices as to where to find the Coal Tunnel, so I assumed it was just closed for the day.

At the corner where the path turns and continues downhill, there is a staircase and a tiny pathway into the thin trees. Here, I saw my first and only glimpse of the maze, where children were running in between the hedges having a blast.

The Cascade is both an amazing work of architecture and an integral part of Chatsworth's immense waterworks system. It was originally built in 1696 and six years later was redone on a much grander scale. Essentially, the Cascade consists of the Cascade House and twenty-four groups of steps that make their way down the hill above Chatsworth. Interestingly enough, the steps are all different in length so the "noise of the falling water varies," and as you walk along, it is loud but soothing music to your ears.

I arrived at the Cascade having walked on the path leading underneath it through a tunnel. The tunnel is dark and damp, and you have to watch your step or else you might end up under a tiny Cascade that soaks you to the bone! I came out on the northern side and walked up the small hill to the edge of the falling water. As I walked up, I noticed a sign that stated visitors were allowed to walk in the Cascade and then proceeded to list all the different emergency phone numbers and first aid stations in the area. I suppose it achieved its goal though, since I certainly was not inspired in the least to walk on the slick stones of the fountain, preferring to stay out of the A&E on this trip to England. In fact, I only saw two of the many visitors venture into the Cascade while I was there.

At the top of the Cascade is the Temple, also known as the Cascade House. This is an intricate piece of architecture that stands proud on the top of the hill and can be seen from far across the Chatsworth grounds. The guidebook best describes the fantastic roof when it says "water flows over the roof and is forced through 13 spouts, including the mouths of two dolphins precariously hung between pilasters adorned with 'froste-worke.' The stone carving...includes a river god asleep on the roof." There are also lion's heads and many other fine details in and around the House to please the eye.

I walked into the Cascade House and stood at the doorway, admiring the waterworks and the countryside, which was lit up by a day that was now devoid (at least to the west) of the threatening clouds that had marred the earlier hours. This was yet another sweeping view that took in part of the house and plenty of copper-beech dotted peaks and valleys.

This entry is continued in The Cascade, Part 2.

This entry is a continuation of The Cascade.

Before walking back down the other side of the Cascade, I noticed a staircase leading behind the waterworks and further up the hill. I took this and found yet another gravel pathway through the tall grass. Alongside the walkway was a tiny babbling brook that I followed for a while. It wound further up the hill, presumably towards the large Emperor Lake 400m above Chatsworth. Searching for the waterfall that could be clearly seen from the Cascade House, I tried to continue up the hill. Quickly, I realized (once the path disappeared and turned into a crossing over algae-covered rocks in the stream) that I would probably either get lost or hurt myself before I found the falls.

My trip down the southern edge of the Cascade was the last of my wanderings in Chatsworth's gardens. My grandparents had been waiting in the car for quite a long time and I thought I had covered most of the gardens (when, in reality, I had covered barely half!). A short stroll to the south would have brought me to the Willow Tree Fountain, which will be one of the first things I see when I return to Chatsworth. How could I not visit something that Celia Fiennes described in 1696 to be "...in the middle of ye grove stands a fine willow tree, the leaves, barke and all looks very naturall... and all on a sudden by turning on a sluice it raines from each leafe and from the branches like a shower, it being made of brass and pipes to each leafe..." The guidebook shows the tree hidden in a small dell and surrounded by rainbows, and claims that "this 'squirting tree' delighted a thirteen-year-old Princess Victoria when she visited in 1832." If it delighted Victoria, she who was never amused, then it must be worth a visit.

I cannot say enough how much I thoroughly enjoyed Chatsworth as a whole. I generally do not visit castles and historic houses once I have been there once, but Chatsworth is on the top of my to-do list for the next time I am in Britain. Next time, I may not go inside the house, but I will probably pack myself a nice picnic lunch and enjoy it in one of the hidden dells or other wonders the garden has to offer.

Much of my information for this journal came from "Explore the Garden at Chatsworth," available at the entrance, exits, and gift shop for £3.50. Unlike many guide books that you buy, look at once, and then store for posterity, this is one you will keep paging through to learn more about the history and about gardening in general. It would also make a great gift for anyone who loves gardens--my grandparents, gardeners extraordinaire, both thoroughly enjoyed it.