May  7,  1896 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
415 
BELVOIR  IN  BEAUTY. 
Belvoir  Castle,  the  ancestral  home  of  the  Duke  of  Rutland,  has 
long  been  famed  for  the  beauty  of  its  pleasure  grounds  and  the  imposing 
display  of  spring  flowers,  disposed  in  most  cases  in  charming  informality 
along  its  picturesque  rock-studded  slopes.  For  many  years  the  late 
Mr.  William  Ingram  found  congenial  employment  in  turning  to  the  best 
account  the  natural  features  of  the  position  and  beautifying  by  artistic 
touches  various  nooks  and  dells.  He  was  not  slow  to  perceive  that  the 
natural  shelter  afforded  by  a  lofty  crescent-shaped  ridge  with  one  point, 
so  to  say,  resting  on  the  north-eastern  spur  on  which  the  Castle  stands 
and  the  other  curving  to  the  south-west  was  an  ideal  position  for  early 
spring  flowers,  and  in  the  course  of  time  he  made  ample  provision  for 
them.  The  ridge  and  slopes  are,  moreover,  well  timbered,  as  they  have 
been  probably  for  many  a  century,  and  this  has  rendered  the  shelter 
more  complete  ;  yet  it  is  only  the  crest  that  is  thickly  wooded,  the  trees 
being  more  sparsely  disposed  down  the  sides  of  the  bold  declivity.  In 
some  places  they  have  been  removed  by  landslips  ;  but  be  the  causes 
of  the  openings  what  they  may,  they  have  afforded  opportunities  for 
the  introduction  of  rocks,  grass,  and  flowers,  and  added  charm  to  the 
grand  natural  surroundings.  _ 
It  is  along  this  horseshoe-shaped  embowered  enclosure  that  a  walk 
far  below  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  yet  much  above  the  flat  ground  level 
below,  was  formed,  and  on 
each  side  of  this  walk  are 
the  flowers  ;  on  the  right 
numbers  peering  from  the 
grass  between  the  trees,  yet 
some  in  beds  for  which  the 
soil  has  been  held  up,  and 
in  one  open  space  where  the 
grass  is  cut  smooth  a  sort  of 
starry  design  is  formed  (fig. 
70,  page  427)  on  a  steep 
declivity,  and  glitters  as  the 
sunbeams  pass  between  the 
trees.  On  the  opposite  or 
lower  side  of  the  walk  a 
series  of  informal  terrace¬ 
like  beds  have  been  formed, 
the  soil  kept  in  position  by 
rocks,  which  appear  to  jut 
out  in  a  natural  manner, 
not  only  along  the  edges 
but  all  among  the  flowers. 
Nor  are  these  mere  pin- 
cuBhion  beds,  but  large 
enough  in  places  for  pass¬ 
ing  through  and  between 
them  on  stepping  stones. 
Between  the  groups  of 
beds  or  flowery  rock-sup¬ 
ported  mounds  are  ever¬ 
green  and  flowering  shrubs 
of  various  kinds,  including 
Himalayan  and  other 
Rhododendrons,  Camellias, 
Azaleas,  and  a  host  of  others, 
including  bold  clumps  of 
Bamboos,  not  often  seen 
flourishing  so  well  together 
more  than  100  miles  of 
London  and  on  the  borders 
of  marsh  land  that  stretches 
eastward  to  the  sea.  Cer¬ 
tainly  Mr.  Ingram,  during  his  term  of  fortyjj  years^at  ’Belvoir, qleft 
lasting  mementoes  behindf  him  ;  and  "now^a  gardener  not  less  ap¬ 
preciative  of  his  beautiful  “charge,  noN  less]  competent,  reigns  in  his 
stead  —  Mr.  W.  H.  Divers.  So  much  before  commencing  a  little 
description  of  Belvoir,  and  now  we  hark  back][for  a  start. 
It  was  about  the  middle  of  April  that  Mr.  Divers,  having  business  in 
Grantham,  was  espied  near  the  station  in  his  basket  carriage — an 
appropriate  vehicle  surely,  as  illustrative  of  the  great  law  of  compensa¬ 
tion  which  it  is  said  pervades  all  nature  ;  for  it  may  be  expected  that 
during  years  of  practical  work  the  ducal  gardener  had  carried  many 
baskets,  so  it  seemed  fitting  that  a  basket  on  wheels  should  eventually 
carry  him,  with  a  brother  in  the  craft,  too,  who  in  his  day  was  no 
stranger  to  baskets  of  weeds,  vegetables,  flowers,  and  fruit.  He  had, 
however,  nearly  missed  his  share  of  compensation,  for  he  was  just  about 
taking  his  ticket  for  Redmile  when  the  basket  made  for  two  rolled  up 
to  the  station.  _ 
Redmile,  on  the  line  between  Grantham  and  Melton  Mowbray,  is  the 
nearest  station  to  Belvoir,  at  least  from  Grantham,  though  from  the 
Nottingham  side  Bottesford  Station  is  the  more  convenient.  Thousands 
of  visitors  arrive  at  these  stations,  and  either  walk  uphill  for  about 
three  miles  or  take  one  of  the  conveyances,  which  seem  plentiful, 
especially  during  the  season  of  the  year  when  Belvoir  is  in  beauty. 
They  also  find  an  excellent  hotel  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  almost  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Castle,  but  not  outside  the  gates  of  the  demesne, 
for  Belvoir,  like  Drumlanrig  and  a  few  other  notable  aristocratic  seats, 
appears  too  big  for  gates,  on  the  north  side  at  least,  and  their  absence 
gives  a  welcome  to  all  comers. _ 
Multitudes  of  persons  avail  themselves  of  the  grand  and  graceful 
privilege  afforded,  and  their  appreciation  is  best  shown  by  the  gratifying 
fact  that  it  is  rare  to  find  a  flower  interfered  with  or  the  least  damage 
done  to  anything  wbatsover  in  gardens,  pleasure  grounds,  or  woodland 
walks.  True,  opportunities  are  afforded  for  indulgence  in  the  irresistible 
habit  of  carving  which  seems  inherent  in  the  British  race,  and  knives 
and  trees  or  other  impressionable  surfaces  come  into  contact,  resulting 
in  initials  and  dates  of  varying  sizes — the  oldest  form,  perhaps,  of 
registration.  The  ancient  custom  does  not  seem  likely  to  die  out,  and  it 
will  not  improbably  continue  for  a  few  more  centuries  on  this  old  estate, 
the  more  attractive  portions  of  which  are,  as  just  indicated,  generously 
open  to  all  who  can  enjoy  the  flowery  slopes  and  sylvan  shades  so 
delightfully  provided  by  Nature,  Art,  and  the  kind  disposition  of  noble 
owners. 
From  Grantham  to  Belvoir,  the  basketmen’s  route,  the  distance  is 
seven  or  eight  miles  through  an  agricultural  district  of  pasture  and 
arable  land,  the  former  predominating.  The  ground  is  sufficiently 
undulated  and  timbered  to  render  theijdrive  pleasant,  and  stretching 
away  on  the  right  is  an 
extensive  vale,  apparently 
as  flat  as  a  table  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  see — a 
happy  hunting  ground,  no 
doubt,  of  lovers  of  the  chase 
from  time  immemorial.  The 
route  traverses  the  charm¬ 
ing  and  evidently  cherished 
village  of  Denton,  the  patri¬ 
mony  of  the  Welby  Gregorys, 
whose  home  is  close  by.  The 
cottages  are  numerous  and 
commodious,  with  ample 
garden  frontages,  and  still 
more  ground  beyond,  so  well 
stocked  with  fruit  trees  that 
the  large  village  seemed  to 
nestle  in  a  cloud  of  silvery 
blossom. 
Onwards,  and  to  the  left, 
is  the  mansion  of  Harlaxton, 
approached  by  a  drive,  ap¬ 
parently  a  mile  or  two  long, 
as  straight  as  a  line  could 
be  drawn.  There  was  no 
time  to  diverge  for  a  call  on 
Mr.  Vinden,  the  gardener, 
and  to  see  the  most  wonder¬ 
fully  architectural  garden 
walls  in  the  kingdom. 
Shortly  Belvoir  comes  in 
view,  and  the  approach  is 
through  an  avenue  of 
Beeches,  splendid  trees  and 
healthy,  each  having  happily 
room  for  development,  not 
spoiled  as  so  many  trees  in 
avenues  are  by  murderous 
overcrowding.  Emerging, 
the  pretty  Lincolnshire 
village  of  Woolsthorpe 
nestles  in  the  valley  on  the  right,  overlooked  by  the  Castle  on 
its  Leicestershire  eminence  above.  To  reach  this  we  have  to 
cross  an  extensive  lake  by  a  bridge  of  many  arches,  and  turn  and 
twist  through  woodland  drives,  along  which  pheasants  and  rabbits  seem 
to  know  no  fear,  till  we  skirt  the  foot  of  the  huge  mound  on  which 
Belvoir  stands  on  foundations  laid  by  Robert  de  Todeni,  the  standard 
bearer  of  William  the  Conqueror,  some  800  years  ago  ;  but  our  par¬ 
ticular  quest  is  the  home  of  the  gardener,  commodious  and  buried  in 
creepers,  with  gay  flower  gardens  on  each  side,  and  its  little  conservatory 
bright  and  sweet — a  pleasant  home,  verily,  as  welcome  as  hospitable 
after  a  cold  drive  on  a  drizzly  day. 
The  afternoon  wore  on,  and  as  it  was  evidently  useless  waiting  for 
the  rain  to  cease  entirely,  and  the  sun  to  shine,  a  sally  was  made  and 
the  necessary  climb  to  see  the  flowers.  Yes,  it  is  a  “  climb,”  for  the 
Castle  though  so  near  is  200  feet  higher  than  the  level  of  the  kitchen 
gardens.  It  is  reached  by  a  curving  walk  flanked  with  Rhododendrons, 
even  then  fading,  Daffodils,  and  other  flowers,  a  foretaste  of  what  is  to 
follow.  A  massive  supporting  wall  is  covered  with  Vines,  Figs,  and  old- 
fashioned  creepers,  and  a  narrow  twisting  walk  leads  to  a  dungeon-like 
door  in  the  masonry.  The  gardener  turns  the  key  and  we  enter,  closes 
the  door,  and  we  are  in  the  dark,  or  with  only  just  sufficient  light  from 
a  shaft  above  to  show  the  arched  foundations.  The  shaft  is  a  stone 
spiral  staircase  up  which  we  poke  our  way,  and  emerge  in  a  garden  of 
flowers — a  long,  narrow,  unconventional  terrace  garden  of  Primroses. 
fig.  68. — MR 
- - - 
■ 
TiitiSt® 
I 
W.  H.  DIVERS. 
■  —MW 
Sit 
